#trying to remember that i'm not weak for being vulnerable it's hard

[chaoticdelinqueerwithglitter]

[personal vent with some sprinkles of tr]

Today I feel emotionally exhausted. Completly drained. But not physically, with doesn't help because my body have too much energy for just laying down and be sad.

But I can't stop crying for everything and anything at the same time. And I know the sadness, the pain, the tears, are real. I know it bc I feel it. But at the same time I feel like nothing happened to me to be like this, like I don't have a 'real reason', that I'm not allowed to be this exhausted when from the outside it looks like I did nothing.

(And I know that's not true, I know I was burn out from the managements I had to do for having internet back, I know it scares me having an uknown man in my home, even if the internet technician was really nice and kind with my dog, what relaxed me bc if my traumatized dog doesn't feel danger and it someone treats him so good, that means everything is safe. And I know the day before I had a job interview and I had to go to the center what makes me be activated as fuck and my anxiety goes high being inside such a crowded small space like the metro. I know that all this things are a lot for me, I know it but if I don't write it is too easy to forget)

(And I also know that I'm finally talking about things in theraphy that broke me just too mention, I know there are real and valid reasons for be like this, I know I should be proud of myself. But I hate that the past can still hurt me, I hate how weak it makes me feel. Even if I know the fact that I'm finally open this box means I did a lot of progress with myself for getting here. But suddenly the old fears are screaming again and it seems like all the work I did for accepting my own vulnerability and not be terrified of feeling old pains just disappeared. And it sucks so much and only makes me be harder on myself)

Weirdly, if this was like my usual burnouts were I just don't have more spoons or an emotional flashback were I need time to feel safe it would be easy to manage. I would be more compasionate with myself, I'll know what to say to my intrusive thoughts.

But is not that. I'm emotionally exhausted to pretend to be strong, to be fine, to not be broke, to not be fighting with my mind constantly bc I wanna be better, I wanna get better, I can't slip into the same coping mechanisms again (even if it feels so easy to do it).

And I just feel like a kid, starting to cry again and again without "reasons". I just feel like a kid that doesn't want to be this weak, that wants to smile and to not make everyone worried bc it's fine, I'm fine, I'm strong, I'm resilient, of course I'll stand up again, ofc the past is not going to drown me, I'm strong and strong people...

Strong people cry.

Strong people are able to admit that they are scared and want to run away.

Strong people fail. And fail again.

Strong people have a lot of flaws and do a lot of mistakes.

Strong people allow themselves to feel the pain, the sadness, the fear.

They broke. Again. And again. Because they admit when something hurts them, they don't deny the pain, don't pretend to be unharmed.

And after that, they try again. Because they never give up. But they ask for help, the show weakness, they show their tears, they show they are vulnerable.

Because maybe being able to be vulnerable is what real strenght mean.

(and yes, I chose this image on purpose because the contrast with this empty Mikey and Takemichi is so huge, Mikey isolating himself on the top, never breaking until he can't take it anymore... I see myself so much in Mikey and it hurts, but it's also a good reminder of how much I need to remember the lessons that Michi showed us)

And I don't know if any of what I just said makes sense or if it's just me rambling around and remembering to myself what ment for Mikey being so strong and so unbreakable and how Takemitchy being openly vulnerable and showing his feelings to the whole world, saved him. Saved us.

Because Takemitchy saved me too and he does it again every time I'm about to not allow myself to cry and go to the old-repress-and-denial.

So yeah, thanks our crybaby hero. I needed you so much and even if I don't say talk about you enough, I love you a lot 💜

[shxuga]

Not said | Sylus

I'm in love with this man, and I wanted to introduce myself by writing something about him in the best way… fluffy and self-indulgent! I hope you enjoy the read, English is not my first language ;; Likes and respoted are aprecciates!

It was crazy...

Yes, crazy. Because... How did you go from repudiating and fearing the infamous leader of Onychinus... to... to this?

His soft hair shook as he rocked his face to the left, settling his sleeping form better into your bed. And, clearly, as the mature woman you are and not at all affected by his celestial beauty, you did not annihilate the voracious impulse to shake your legs and slide your fingers through his pretty grayish strands.

You sighed, feeling out of place in your own home. In your own bed! With the curtains closed, somehow trying to wipe most of brightness of Linkon's sun, that your... Ally? Buddy? Lover...?

Gosh, you weren't even sure about that...

Yes, definitely, crazy.

You couldn't even try to figure out Sylus. No matter how hard you tried to collect each piece of his complex puzzle... Most of the time you felt at a dead end.

You blame his pretty voice, his sharp but gentle features, the damn way he pronounced your name, and how he acted when it came to you. God, his damn treatment of you...! That started being so cold, almost spiteful, as if with his words and behavior he will "subtly" (because the bastard wasn't subtle at all!) demand that you remember something he didn't even bother to explain.

The memories in your mind were confusing, blurry and melancholic.

It was strange...

You did not remember exactly that mysterious past, and your "first" meeting was undoubtedly bitter... And now, much to your regret, is the moment where you most feel that your relationship with him wanders on a different astral plane! Completely unrelated!

Because... What the hell were you two?!

There was something implicit there, something mutual that, for better or worse, neither of you had dared to utter. Plus, he completely contradicted himself at times like these. Where the words become extinct, the walls collapse and only that soft perfume of vulnerability remains that surrounds both.

When the cold, calculating and demanding leader became a mirage, leaving only a man... just Sylus.

When he laughed at your antics, and his pretty eyes crinkled in tenderness. Or when he poured honey from his lips, calling you affectionate nicknames that made the butterflies in your stomach flutter. The stolen pettings, where his fingers lingered longer than they should along your hair, those times when his knuckles subtly traced your shoulders and the sides of your arms, or those moments where he let his fingers protectively around your waist.

Moments like these... Where without warning he arrived at your apartment, and took over your bed. If you had a nickel for every time his actions nearly gave you a heart attack, chances are your wealth would begin to rival his.

"Can't you sleep?" His hoarse, sleepy voice startles you, tearing you out of the limbo of your thoughts.

"How could I? It's past twelve." You complain, to which he hums, slowly opening his eyelids.

And there it is again.

Those damn eyes... Those eyes that looked at you as if you were the most important thing to him, with absolute adoration. Full of that affection that made your skin tingle and your knees weak. God, how come this man who initially acted like a demon... Did it end like this?

Overwhelmed, you decided to look away.

His large hand cupped your chin with a firm softness, encouraging you to return your gaze to him.

"Yeah? Is that why you haven't taken your eyes off me?"

Damn.

At this point, it should no longer surprise you that he'll notice those things... But damn! That didn't make it any less embarrassing.

He must have noticed your embarrassment, because his sly smile widened.

"You were looking at me with such intensity that I thought you were going to pierce my face, kitten."

"I-I don't...!" Excuses die out in your tongue, there is no use arguing. You push his hand away and sigh. "Just... I was just thinking."

That gets his attention. He rests his face on his bent arms, and you try hard to pretend that it is something as banal to other mortals as settling into bed, they make it look so perfect, so ethereal, like a muse out of a painting.

It was driving you crazy.

"Yeah? And what were you thinking, pretty?"

Once again, you have to do your best to put on your best poker face to disguise the effect that their disgustingly (wonderful, perfect, amazing) cloying nicknames have on you.

"Nothing in particular..." Your lie is evident, especially by how you avoid his gaze and nervously play with the bedsheets.

He hums, of course he doesn't believe you, in fact, you're sure he already gets the idea... But, as always, he gives you your space, followed with silent reverence the path you chose, and sticks to you with each of your decisions.

Instead, he pulls your arm and wraps it around you lazily, settling your face into his chest, barely hidden under a thin tank top. You can feel his nose on your hair, gently inhaling. Shame pulses through your bloodstream. 

"Sy-Sylus...?!"

"Just pretend I'm one of your plushies and try to get some sleep." Sylus pronounces, and you perceive how drowsiness quickly takes over him. There's nothing you can do, not when those strong arms have you happily captive in their embrace. You can only huff and resign. You listen carefully to the pulse of his heart, as erratic as ever, even when he is in this calm state.

The haze of your memories returns to you for an instant. The smell of sulfur and blood, your fingers on a sword and his voice encouraging you not to stop pressing the dagger... Or else, there would be no turning back.

Absently, your fingers outline where the scar should be, unaware of the effect your touch has on it. He shivers, one of his eyes opens and you feel how his gaze shines with intensity, while he holds your wrist firmly with his fingers.

"Kitten..." He warns, and you lower your hands quickly. He laughs, that rich tone, snuggling back into you.

Once again, a sigh leaves your lips. You imitate him, burying your face in his chest, delighting in the persistent rumble of his heart and the manly scent of his cologne.

Yes, there was a lot he hadn't said... But his actions were very clear. And that was enough, at least for now.

[woahjo]

katsuki rarely drinks. it's not something he enjoys. but one one night, he shows up at your once-shared apartment, smelling like liquor. something sweet and fruity, liked he'd tried to wash a bitter taste from his mouth. to someone who doesn't know him the way you do, a tired sobriety may be assumed. he's that sort when he drinks.

he smiles when he sees you, a bashful kind of smile, despite not having spoken with you for months and you realize that maybe he's forgotten. maybe he's forgotten the last few months when he moved his stuff out of your place, the period of time after the break up where no one would bring up your names in front of the other.

"katsuki? it's the middle of the night," you say to him through the half open door. "what are you doing here?"

katsuki looks at you, clearly tired, and he swallows thick before opening his mouth and closing it again. you wait for him to find his words.

"i wanted to see you," he says.

"you don't live here anymore," you remind him gently, though you're not sure why you assume that he believes he does.

katsuki glances at the ground and then uses the doorframe to steady himself. you can tell that he's trying not to scare you, trying not to use the sheer size of his body. there's something cautious and equally careless about his motions and you tilt your head.

"katsuki?"

"why don't we talk anymore?" he asks you, swallowing again. you wonder where his friends have gotten off to and at what point int he evening they'd noticed that he wandered off.

the question tugs at your heartstrings as you stare at the man in the doorway. it's a pathetic sort of feeling, a weak longing in your chest. you're not sure how to answer. after the break up, things just sort of... fell off. there was nothing to say anymore.

"I want to talk to you," he admits.

this is a side of katsuki that only you are privy to. a quieter, gentler side of him. one where he can openly admit his wants and faults. an exposed bleeding wound that katsuki has never really been able to sew shut.

you shake your head a little.

"talking's hard," you tell him. you're being honest. talking to him is hard. there is so much history there.

"we used to be friends," he reasons, almost as if he's reminding himself.

"yeah," you nod, "we did."

"and now we're not," he adds. "and that fucking sucks."

you nod again.

"it's late, katsuki," you say to him. "you should get home and sleep this off."

katsuki nods, but he lingers. his eyes wander past you into the inside of your apartment, almost as if he can picture himself wandering in. you keep the door half shut.

"we'll talk soon?" he asks, something hopeful in his voice. this vulnerability makes you ache.

"yeah," you respond. "we'll talk soon. fix things."

katsuki nods and then, as if something sobering has come over him, he straightens his back. you furrow your brows as he looks at you, a pink tinge over his cheeks, and wait for what he has to say next.

"sorry to- sorry to bother you so late," he says, a little less gently. he's let a mask slip carefully over his features.

"it's fine," you shake your head. "get home safe, okay? do you need me to call someone for you?"

katsuki shakes his head insistently. "no, no," he says firmly— soberly. "i'm good. i'll see you around."

"okay."

he turns from your step and you watch his back for a moment before quietly shutting the door to your apartment. it feels too quiet now, and you briefly miss the light from the street as you turn back to the empty, darkened rooms.

you wonder if he'll remember coming to your door tomorrow and kick himself for it. you wonder if he'll wake up in the morning, his head pounding, with the mortifying memory of having shown up on your doorstep, telling you that he misses you in a set of different words. or, you wonder if he'll forget. will he wake tomorrow with no memory at all of the first conversation you've shared in months?

it's probably best if he doesn't remember it. then, there'll be nothing to follow up on and nothing to apologize for in the sobering light of day. you won't have to talk to him and be reminded of just how painful every aspect of this is. you have no intention of keeping your promise to talk soon, as much as you might like to fix things. it's best, for the both of you, if you let him fade into the background. then, you can meet him again as strangers—friends of friends—and pretend that the history between you both never happened in the first place.

[evillysilly]

5 | check out.

content warning: nsfw (lewd), blowjob, dubcon, hair pulling, sub francis, dom doorman reader

a/n: i feel like the last drabble i made was ass so why not make another one hehe. holy shit word count is around 1.3k

(⸝⸝๑ ̫ ๑⸝⸝⸝) , (,,¬﹏¬,,) , ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) 

"mmm.. is this.. really necessary?" your lovely and attractive neighbor, Francis, asks you, sitting on the desk right in front of you. your warm hands sending electric shocks through his body, exploring his body.

"juuust checkin' for something, Mister Mosses, no need to worry." you reassure him, fingers stroking his navel softly and deliberately. "mmm.. I see..." he murmurs, he couldn't help but if everyone in the apartment building got this treatment, he tried to focus on his breathing, telling himself that you're just doing your job.

he could feel his hands on the edge of the desk twitching, wanting to grab yours and pull you closer, but he keeps them still, not wanting to get ahead of himself at all... while you trace delicate circles on his sensitive skin, his breath hitches, a soft whimper escaping his lips. his eyes closed, his mind racing with such thoughts. he does not know why he's reacting this way, but he couldn't deny the burst of pleasure flooding through him.

"mmm.. a-apologies... I..-" he stammers, his voice barely audible. he feels vulnerable, exposed, but there's an undeniable thrill coursing through his veins. Francis clenches his grip on the desk, trying to calm himself down as you shush him.

"hey, it's fine. it's normal to feel like this when getting checked." you reassure him, acting like you have done this to the other residents— spoiler alert— you have not. literally not at all.

Francis swallows hard, trying to keep his composure as you continue tracing your fingers on his navel, wanting more noises to come out of him. you were making him feel things he hasn't felt in probably years. he could feel his head spinning, he quietly sighs as you continue to trace your fingers across his skin, his heart pounding. He can't help but lean into your touch, his breath hitching again.

"mm... alright..." Francis mutters quietly, his voice shaking. he doesn't know why, but he wants this to continue, even though it feels wrong. he's never felt this excited about being checked, but there's something about you that makes him want more.

you relax your eyes, loving Francis' reactions, you never thought you'd be doing this to the resident you were always drawn to because of how mysterious and how pathetic he looks, you couldn't help but be drawn to him just because of that! but here we are now!

"well, what do we have here?"

your fingers trailed down to Francis' crotch, the unknown bulge showing visibly and it was tightening the milkman's pants. Francis softly gasps at the touch, his breath hitches, his whole body tensing up. he's not sure if he should be embarrassed or if he should be enjoying this. his mind is spinning, unable to process the sensations coursing through him.

"wuh- what are you doing..?"

"look, it's growin'."

Francis blushes deeply, realizing what was happening. his heart pounds in his chest, his breath coming in short gasps. he can't believe he was getting aroused just because of you touching him, but there's no denying the evidence in front of him. his eyes dart to the side, avoiding your gaze as embarrassment washes over him.

"mmm.. I- I don't.. didn't know... I'm-"

"now, don't apologize, Mosses, I'm here to check you out, remember?" your lips curve up into a smile, hands going up to Francis' waistband, slowly pulling them down along with his boxers. Francis could feel his knees going weak, his heart pounding. He can't believe this is happening but.. he doesn't want you to stop. at all.

as Francis lifts himself up slightly for you to slowly pull down his lower clothes, he bites his lip, his eyes locked on you. he can feel the heat creeping up his face, his breathing coming in short gasps. "mmm..."

his body trembles, his cock standing, begging for attention as you look at it in awe, it was twitching already, you look from the shaft to Francis, smile widening. "well, didn't expect you to be wet already."

you look behind Francis just to check if someone's there, but luckily for you, there's nobody there, before someone could catch you two, you shut the blinds by pushing one of the buttons on the desk, looking back to Francis and his dick that's been needy for attention.

you finally lean down, blowing the bright red tip a kiss as you feel Francis jolt, his heart hammering in his chest. he can't believe what's happening, his mind racing with thoughts and emotions. he swallows hard, his breathing was so uneven. he feels like he's in a dream, a beautiful, erotic dream.

"mmn.. you.. you don't have to..." he whispers, he's never felt so turned on, so desired, and it's both terrifying and exhilarating. he doesn't know what to expect, but he can't help but feel a sense of excitement.

you look at him with a smile, sticking your tongue out. "but I want to." you proceed to lick the tip that's been leaking with pre-cum, hearing Francis let out a soft moan, his hips slightly jerking, wanting more. "ahh.. please.. mm.. more..." he doesn't know what's coming over him, but he can't help but plead for more. he feels like he's on a precipice, and he's not sure if he wants to jump.

you hum in response, taking Francis' hand and placing it on your hair, gesturing that if he needs to stabilize himself, he can just grip your hair.

after that, you begin to put all inches of Francis' shaft in your mouth, feeling the tip hit the back of your throat.. that would definitely leave some kind of mark there. you slightly gag on it, covering his dick with your saliva.

Francis grips your hair tightly, relishing the feeling of your mouth slobbering on his cock, your mouth enveloping his aching erection, your tongue swirling around it. he feels like he's in a fantasy, something he never thought he'd experience.

"mm.. oh..." he breathes out shakily. he feels alive, like he's experiencing something he's missed all his life. you're taking him deeper, and he can't help but let out another soft moan, his hips bucking as you take more of him.

you close your eyes and hum around his cock, sending vibrations as you start bobbing your head, hearing more of those lovely noises from the resident you're sucking off on. his body was trembling. your mouth moving up and down his member, tongue lapping the pre-cum spilling out of his slit up, your warm breath brushing against his skin. your hands grip his hips, holding him in place.

"mm.. yes.. m-more..." he whines, trying his buck his hips but couldn't due to your hands gripping his hips firmly. your mouth moves in perfect rhythm, receiving more moans from the resident, those noises got you addicted, ever since you've heard it earlier, you were having a raging hard on.

you swirl your tongue around the sensitive head, fastening your pace just a little bit, feeling Francis' grip on your hair tightening, making you moan around him. he feels like he's on the edge, and he doesn't want to come down.

"mmmngh.. o-oh God..." he breathes out, his voice scarcely heard. he can't help but let out more soft moans, his back arching slightly. this feeling is unlike anything he's ever experienced, and it was thrilling.

his orgasm is building, and he can feel it coming, his body tense, his breath coming in short gasps. he doesn't know what to expect, but he can't help but want more, more, more.

and then, it happens. a wave of pleasure washes over him, and he lets out a soft cry, his body arching slightly, his hands gripping your hair tightly. you're there, catching every drop of his release greedily as his body trembles.

as you swallow every drop of him, you pull away, licking your lips. "guess we're done here, hm? you're free to leave, Mosses."

"a-ah, yes." Francis slides himself off the desk, pulling his boxers and pants back up and hastily buckling his belt as he steps out of the security booth. "..thank you." he mutters, before leaving.

let's just say you two were definitely gonna meet up more often after this.

[skateordiebitch]

I LIKE HER || D.F. x reader

‘i’d give the world to her

as long as my heart's still beating

as long as she's next to me

because i like her’

summary: dominic goes to your house for thanksgiving. to say he's nervous... is an understatement.

inspired by '20191009 i like her' by mac demarco! this was so cute to write, even though my parents are definitely not like this and i have never invited a significant other over... like ever LMFAO. i also wrote after i smoked and made it an reader x elliot story. (???) so i had to re-edit all of it this morning. last time i'm ever doing that😭

enjoy, and as always, requests are open <3

The drive to your parents’ house was quiet, but not in the usual, comfortable way. 

The silence hung in the air, thick with tension and anticipation, rather than the easygoing, relaxed kind you’d grown used to in the car with Dominic. 

His fingers gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were bone white, his jaw clenched in concentration, and every now and then, he glanced at you with a nervous, half-smiling look that almost made your heart ache. 

It was endearing in a way, but also a little disconcerting. 

This was the same guy who could walk on stage in front of hundreds of people without flinching, who seemed to breeze through life with his trademark devil-may-care attitude. 

Yet today, in the face of Thanksgiving dinner with your parents, Dominic was unmistakably, undeniably terrified. 

You watched him for a moment, your mind spinning with a thousand thoughts. You’d known Dominic long enough to know how much he hated being vulnerable, how much he hated showing weakness. 

But here he was, acting as though he were about to face a firing squad instead of a family dinner. It was hard to reconcile with the confident, magnetic man you knew. 

“Babe, you’re acting like you’re about to go into court or something,” you teased gently, reaching over to rub his shoulder in a reassuring gesture.

He let out a breathy laugh, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

His gaze remained fixed on the road, his expression still tense. “I might as well be. Your dad hates me, doesn’t he? I mean, he’s gonna hate me for sure. I’ve heard all about him.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting back a smile. “My dad doesn’t even know you yet. Besides, you’re gonna charm him just like you charm everyone else. Remember when you met my friends? You had them in love with you in, like, ten minutes.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to marry your friends,” he muttered under his breath, still staring at the road with a furrowed brow.

Your heart skipped a beat at his admission. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d hinted at something more serious between you two, but this was the first time he’d put it so plainly. 

His face flushed as soon as the words left his mouth, and he cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to cover up his slip. “I mean… I’m just saying, meeting your parents is a big deal. Like, huge. And what if I mess it up?”

His voice trailed off, and you could hear the uncertainty in it, the raw vulnerability that was so unlike the confident, carefree persona he usually put on. 

You leaned in, your hand resting gently on his arm. 

“Dominic,” you murmured softly, your voice full of affection, “You’re not going to mess it up. Just be yourself. That’s the guy I fell in love with, and I promise, it’s the guy they’ll love, too.”

He glanced at you, his eyes softening just slightly, the weight of his worry easing a little. He gave you a small, almost shy smile. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It is easy,” you reassured him, squeezing his hand gently. “Trust me.”

—

When you finally pulled up to your parents' house, the scene that greeted you was exactly what you’d expected: a whirlwind of activity. 

The smell of roasted turkey and pumpkin pie wafted out the door as your family bustled around, setting the table, carrying in food. 

Your mom was the first to spot you, her face lighting up in a smile as she hurried over to pull you into a tight hug. 

“Y/N! I’m so glad you’re here,” she exclaimed, pulling back just enough to look at you. Then her eyes shifted to Dominic, her gaze appraising but friendly. “And you must be Dominic! Oh, we’ve heard so much about you.”

Before he could react, she pulled him into a hug as well, surprising him. He blinked in surprise, eyes wide for a second, but recovered quickly, offering her a warm smile. “Thank you for having me… It’s an honor to be here.”

Your mom laughed, waving him off as though he were a nervous child. “Oh, please, don’t be nervous. Come on in and make yourself at home.”

As you walked inside, your dad was standing near the kitchen, his arms crossed in a way that made him look more intimidating than he actually was. 

His thick eyebrows were arched in that signature skeptical way you knew all too well. Dominic swallowed hard, his anxiety creeping back up as you nudged him gently forward.

“Dad, this is Dominic,” you said, your voice casual, but your heart was hammering in your chest, too.

Dominic extended his hand, his palm a little damp, and your dad took it with a firm grip. “Dominic, huh? So, what’s this I hear about you being a musician?”

“Yes, sir,” Dominic replied, his voice a little tight but polite. “It’s something I’m really passionate about.”

Your dad gave him a measured look, nodding slowly. “The music industry can be tough. I hope you know how to fix a car, too. It’s good to have a backup plan.”

You stifled a laugh, nudging Dominic’s shoulder with playful affection. “He’s got more talent than you’d think, Dad.”

Dominic cleared his throat, trying to shake off the nerves that still clung to him. He rubbed the back of his neck and gave your dad a tentative smile.

“Yeah, it’s... not the easiest career, but I love what I do. And I’m lucky to have people who support me.”

Your dad hummed, his expression still unreadable. He motioned toward the dining table. “Well, dinner’s almost ready. Why don’t you two take a seat?”

Dominic followed you to the table, but he felt your dad’s eyes lingering on him, sizing him up. He leaned close to you as you sat down, whispering, “Is he always this intense?”

You smirked, whispering back, “Only when he thinks I like someone.”

Dominic laughed nervously, glancing at you for reassurance, and you shot him a quick wink. The tension in the air seemed to lessen just a little.

---

As the evening went on, Dominic started to find his footing. 

He was surprisingly good at navigating the conversation, drawing people in with his self-deprecating humor and lighthearted stories. 

He told everyone about his disastrous attempts at joining his school’s basketball team—complete with exaggerated, comedic flair—and regaled your family with embarrassing anecdotes from his childhood. 

The more he shared, the more relaxed everyone became, and your mom, who was already refilling his drink and piling mashed potatoes onto his plate, seemed to be warming to him more with every passing minute. 

“So, Dominic,” your dad said, setting his fork down and fixing him with a serious look. “What exactly are your intentions with my daughter?”

You groaned softly, shooting your dad an exasperated look. “Dad, don't—”

But Dominic cut you off, his voice steady despite the tremor of nerves beneath it. “I like her,” he said, his eyes meeting your dad’s. “A lot. Like, I really, really like her.”

The room went silent, the only sound the faint scrape of your mom’s fork against her plate as she froze mid-bite.

You blinked, stunned, your heart doing a flip at the raw honesty in Dominic’s words.

Your dad raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “Is that so?”

“Yes, sir,” Dominic continued, his voice gaining strength. “I know this might not be the usual way things go, but your daughter... she’s incredible. She’s smart, funny, talented, and honestly, she inspires me. I don’t take that lightly.”

Your dad stared at him for a moment that felt like an eternity before finally nodding. “Well, Dominic” he said gruffly, “I can respect a man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to say it.”

Your mom beamed, breaking the tension. “I think that’s sweet. Don’t you, honey?”

Your dad grunted, which, in his world, was as close to a blessing as Dominic was going to get.

And at one point, while you were helping your mom in the kitchen, you couldn’t help but sneak a glance at the dining room. Dominic was seated next to your dad, who was animatedly showing him how to carve the turkey. 

Dominic, who you knew had probably never held a carving knife in his life, was listening intently, his expression one of exaggerated concentration. 

“Well, look at that,” your dad said with a proud smile as Elliot made a rather passable slice through the turkey. “You got it!”

Dominic looked over at you, beaming as if he had just won a prize. 

He came back to the table and offered you a slice of turkey, his grin practically glowing with pride. 

“Guess I have a new backup career,” he said, his voice low, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculously pleased he looked.

“You’re doing amazing, babe,” you whispered, squeezing his hand under the table. “And by the way, you’re definitely passing the test.”

He squeezed your hand back, the relief in his smile obvious. “Thank God. Your dad was terrifying for a minute there.”

“He’s just protective,” you said, your voice soft as you glanced at your dad from across the room. “But he likes you, trust me.”

As the evening wore on, the laughter and conversation grew more relaxed. Everyone was at ease, sharing funny stories, teasing each other, and enjoying the food. 

Your dad had even stopped making “backup plan” comments, and you could tell that Dominic was starting to truly feel like he belonged. 

—

When dinner was over, you and Dominic decided to step outside for a quick walk to get some fresh air. The cold night air was crisp and refreshing, the stars shining brightly above, and you both walked hand in hand down the quiet street. 

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” you teased, nudging his shoulder.

He let out a long breath, pulling you close to his side. “Honestly? I was more nervous than I’ve ever been for a show.”

“Well, you pulled it off,” you said, smiling up at him. “And now my parents love you.”

Dominic let out a long breath. “Not gonna lie, I think your dad just aged me by ten years.”

You laughed, slipping your hand into his. “No, you did great. And for the record, I like you too.”

Dominic dramatically froze, his eyes wide as he looked down at you. “Wait. No way. You do?!”

You smiled, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Yes, idiot. I do. A lot.”

Dominic grinned down at you, his forehead pressing against yours. “I didn’t want to just impress them, you know. I wanted them to… see how much I care about you. How serious I am about you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you just stared at him, breath caught in your throat. “Dom…”

He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his eyes soft and steady. “I don’t want to be with anyone else. And I wanted them to know that.”

You stood there, frozen for a moment, the weight of his words settling over you like a gentle but undeniable truth. 

The crisp night air seemed to fade into the background as you searched his eyes for any sign that he didn’t mean it. 

But there was nothing but sincerity, nothing but warmth.

Your chest tightened, and you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth, even as a lump formed in your throat. “Dominic,” you breathed again, your voice barely above a whisper.

He lowered his hand from your face, but not before his thumb traced the curve of your cheek, his touch lingering like he couldn’t quite bring himself to pull away. 

The tension that had gripped him earlier in the evening—his fear of not measuring up, of not being good enough for your family—seemed to have dissolved completely. 

Now, standing under the vast, quiet sky, he looked like a man who knew exactly what he wanted. And what he wanted was you.

“I mean it,” he continued softly, his voice steady. “I’m in this. With you. All the way.”

You felt your heart swell, that familiar warmth spreading through your chest, pulling you closer to him. 

The way he said it—so earnestly, with so much confidence—left no room for doubt.

You had always known Dominic was passionate about his music, about his career, but hearing him talk about his feelings for you, about how serious he was about the two of you, made everything feel… different. Bigger. Realer.

“I’m glad,” you said, finally finding your voice, your hands slipping around his waist as you leaned into him. “Because I don’t want anyone else either.”

He smiled then, a soft, private smile just for you, and it felt like everything you needed to say was already understood between you. 

There was no need for more words. 

Instead, he cupped your face gently, pulling you in, his lips brushing against yours in a slow, deliberate kiss—one that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

After a long moment of silence, he finally broke it with a grin. “So, do I still have to do the dishes to make a good impression?”

You laughed, pulling back to meet his eyes. “Absolutely. That’s part of the initiation.”

Dominic groaned dramatically, throwing his head back in mock despair. “The things I do for love...” 

You laughed again, the sound light and carefree, the weight of the evening finally lifting. 

He pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you as he lifted you off your feet in one smooth motion, spinning you around as you squealed in surprise. You both tumbled into a fit of laughter, your heart soaring in his arms.

When he finally set you down, he kept you close, his hands still resting on your waist as you both stood there in the quiet street, the laughter tapering off into contented silence. 

For a moment, everything felt so right, so easy, and the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you, standing under the stars. 

“You know,” Dominic said quietly, his voice low and serious again, “I think I could get used to this.” 

His thumb traced small circles on the back of your hand, the same thumb that had strummed a guitar for hours in front of audiences but now held your hand like it was the most important thing in the world.

You leaned into him, your head resting against his chest. “What, the being nervous part? Or the Thanksgiving dinners?”

He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Well, I didn’t think I’d ever say this, but… Thanksgiving dinners are kind of great. Even with all the anxiety.”

You smiled up at him, feeling a surge of affection that was almost overwhelming. “I’m glad you think so,” you murmured, “because there are going to be a lot more of them. I’m kind of attached to this family, you know.”

His eyes softened, the playful teasing replaced with something deeper, more earnest. “Yeah, well… I plan on being around for all of them. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your breath caught again, and this time you didn’t try to hide the way your heart swelled in your chest. He wasn’t the type to say something like that lightly, and you knew he meant it. 

There was a certain finality to his words, a quiet but unmistakable promise.

Before you could respond, Dominic nudged you gently, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes. “But seriously… dishes?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hold back a smile. “Yes, seriously. You’ve got to pay your dues somehow.”

Dominic groaned again, but his grin was back, and it was impossible to miss how relieved he seemed. 

The tension that had been building in him all day, the worry about impressing your parents and meeting their expectations, seemed to have melted away completely. 

It was as if the approval he’d so desperately sought had been given, not through grand gestures or perfect words, but through simple moments of connection, laughter, and genuine sincerity.

“Alright, alright,” he said, pulling you closer again and pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “Dishes it is. But you know, I’m going to need something in return.”

You arched an eyebrow, sensing a tease in his voice. “Oh? And what might that be?”

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “How about a lifetime supply of Thanksgiving dinners?”

Your heart skipped, and you could feel the heat in your cheeks as you laughed softly. “Sure,” you whispered back, “Maybe, you’ll even get something else, too.”

Elliot’s eyes darkened with playful curiosity. “Oh yeah? And what would that be?”

You leaned in closer, your lips just a breath away from his. “You know what I mean,” you said, letting your words linger in the air, a teasing edge to them.

His breath hitched, his grin widening. “At your parent’s house?!” 

“Okay, maybe not here… But, when there’s a will there’s a way— I have a car, you know.”

“Well, then I like the sound of that,” he muttered, and you could feel the heat between you shift, the playful tension suddenly charged with something more electric.

“I’m gonna do those dishes so damn fast,” he said, his hand sliding down your back as he pulled you closer again. 

You leaned into him, lips brushing against his in a kiss that was a little slower, a little more promising this time. “Good,” you whispered against his mouth, “because I always keep my word.”

—

The quiet of the night stretched on around you, but you didn’t mind. It was peaceful, comfortable, and for the first time all evening, it felt like everything had come full circle. The anxiety, the awkwardness, the moments of uncertainty—gone, replaced by something so much more real. 

Something you both could stand on.

Dominic squeezed your hand one more time, and you both stood there for a few moments longer, just holding each other, as if savoring the last remnants of the day.

Finally, with a small but contented sigh, he let go of you reluctantly. “Alright, we should probably head back in before your dad starts hunting me down for that backup career.”

You laughed and took his hand, tugging him back toward the house. “I think we’ve earned our place here, don’t you?”

He smiled, his arm slipping around your waist as you walked back toward the warmth of the house and the sounds of family inside. “Yeah. I think we have.” 

And as the door closed behind you, you realized you couldn’t have asked for a better Thanksgiving, a better future— one where Dominic, despite all his nerves and uncertainties, could be part of the family.

And that was more than enough.

[yanderestarangel]

⸺:･ﾟ✧ CRYBABY | BI HAN X AFAB READER

TW: unreliable narrator, mourning, blood, death, smut, mentioned death, hallucination, angst.

Everyone in the Lin Kuei wondered if Grand Master Bi Han ever had any type of feeling, besides hatred, anger and a sadistic and morbid pleasure in power. And the answer was yes, but no one would ever know, no one could see the hard, well-built shell he had made of himself for so long.

But, one person knew and that person was you... Or better said, it was you.

The fog of the cold winter corroded anyone's bones, but Bi Han felt nothing, being with you there, beneath him, making hot and passionate love with bodies drawn in a divine brush and venerated by mortals. Bi Han shed some tears, as always, he was a crybaby but only you knew that. The emotions so guarded and engrained for so many years, all the rapturous encounters of lust stood out.

"-Why are you crying, Bi Han?" -You asked in a soft voice, bringing one of your hands to meet the smooth skin of the man's face above you, staring at the brown immensity of his iris, while more tears fell from his eyes, eyelashes stained by salty drops as he whispered "sorry" softly moving his hips again, moans were heard, echoing through the dark and freezing night of a dark winter.

"-I'm alone, without anyone... Without anything, you're my last hope, you know me like no one else (Y/N)... I want this to last forever I-" -Bi Han spoke with a voice weak and vulnerable, it was one of the few moments that he allowed himself to be himself, when he was with you, he didn't have a cold and cruel heart, he was just angry with the future and present, the present was painful with the death of his mother , with the guilt of having let his father die for the greater good with the fear of the future, losing you... You.

Bi Han continued moving, skin on skin, the wet sound resonating through the walls, a touch of love and possession and fear, the feeling that gnawed at the man's already shaken heart and soul, he groaned as he felt your warm touch on his cold skin. Of him, he couldn't tell you how much he loved you, how afraid he was of losing you, he wanted to be the perfect man for you but he knew he was just an assembled reflection of what he once was.

"-You're a crybaby, Bi Han..."

You smiled, that smile that always warmed him, drying the tears that still insisted on falling more and more, making him place a chaste kiss on your forehead, while placing his lips to yours, whispering more and more uncertain promises that were lost by the wind that now let the requiem play, purifying your soul, distilled by a man who once loved you.

He still kept his wedding clothes, locked in a box in his room. Bi Han always arrived in the room after training, picking up the fine fabrics with a little dust, but even that didn't stop him from bringing the clothes up to his nose, feeling your perfume already spreading in the air while he felt his heart beat and ache, the Longing rotted him inside. His brothers always saw Bi Han reciting his wedding promises and vows to himself as he walked around the house, a daily habit that no one dared question.

Everything was so fast that night, but Bi Han remembered it well... After all, he was the one who killed you, he knew it was an accident, but that would never cancel out the guilt of having your blood on his hands, not even in the worst hellish nightmares drawn By the worst devils, he would think about killing you, but he did.

He remembers... The poorly lit night, with only the blessing of the moon's rays guiding the way to one of the villages that was being attacked by some beings from the outer world, you insisted on going with him, after all, you were a Lin Kuei ninja too and he blames himself for letting you convince him so easily. He was distracted for just a few seconds, which led you to try to stop some invaders alone, but it didn't work, you were cornered and killed.

Killed because of him, a cruel and fateful accident.

He remembered the screams of agony and pain of the villagers, but everything had become silent from the moment Bi Han found his body, bleeding, with cold blood in the middle of the snow, he fell to his knees, breathing and feeling the world. He fell when he saw your lifeless eyes, the smell of blood entered his nose, while he picked you up, he wanted you to wake up again, tell him that everything was a bad joke and that he was a "crybaby" as you always called him, but now, your voice was mute, quiet, empty, there was no longer you in existence, just a pile of flesh, of what you once were, a lifeless piece, of what Bi Han once loved , a dead doctrine.

It was his fault, he shouldn't have given in, he shouldn't have let you go, he needed to be colder and stronger... But at what cost?

The shadows now haunted Bi Han, the quiet stillness, cut by the sound of running water that the man used to wash his own hands, he still smelled his blood, he felt dirty, he felt guilty, he wanted When that stopped, he couldn't even cry anymore, yours echoed in his mind, disturbed by endless mourning and punished by some mocking divine being. The grand master always returned to the same blizzard that your body was in, he looked at the ground, now clean and covered by a new layer of clean ice covering the sad reality that he saw on that red and unhappy night, he heard your voice, he saw your shadow, or something that his mind designed to be you.

"-It's okay... I can be real for you Bi Han."

"-Real to me...? You... Not real... Angels call (Y/N), return your night, go, don't stay in my chaste shelter, my chest is already sore... Go in the infernal storm that threw you here..." -Bi Han whispered, making the shadow disappear, a malicious joke from the man's own mind, death, grief, guilt and cold consumed him, the great master, was ultimately,a crybaby, but the little humanity he had left with you.

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[ampblamp]

AU: Here's How Billford Can Still Win

(part 1: make that triangle miserable)

tl;dr: i want bill to have his ability to live in denial about what he did shattered by several important figures from his past BEFORE he can enact weirdmageddon. this way the yaoi can be messy and toxic (at first) but NOT doomed. it's self indulgent for sure but i'm doin my best to keep it IC as i can 🫡

this first post is just me figuring out how i think things would have to go down on bill's end for billford to have any chance of working out. take my hand. come away with me to my autism world

i'm still figuring out all the details of what would have to change to like. weaken bill's mental defenses enough because he HAS been able to shove his guilt down for so long. i do think everything with ford would be one of the key factors cause he had never connected so much with any of his prior human partners and obviously things souring fucked him up enough to have a turbo breakdown. (i know it's also because of the amount of times the plan has failed but i think he's also feeling rejected by so many humans not liking him lolll)

i think his breakdown after getting wasted at o'sadley's would happen like in canon, save for its repercussions. once bill starts thinking about his mom and everyone else from euclydia around when he's about to be arrested, maybe it would open the door for thoughts of them to keep slipping through his defenses. and suddenly thinking about weirdmageddon and hearing himself and other people talking about it could have a chance of triggering him.

i know personally that trauma can jump in and completely drag you back in time regardless of any logic, and i think him having that kind of episode sooner might be the key to getting him to face that he doesn't want to keep repeating what he did to euclydia because it's never going to be enough to convince the small, small voice in his head saying 'stop'.

because that's just the thing. bill has forced himself down a path of destruction to Prove to himself that its actually for the best to tear down "miserable reality" and replace it with his own vision. his drive and impatience to get weirdmageddon going is BECAUSE he wants to permanently cement that narrative in his mind with the ultimate "proof". because if the narrative fails, not only will he not be able to mentally cope (without help) he'll completely fail the henchmaniacs, who he promised a new home, and look vulnerable and weak, which he's TRAINED them to view as what should be destroyed.

i think the o'sadley breakdown and my proposed worsened repercussions of it would destabilize him, but it wouldn't be enough to stop him. what would push bill over the edge in this hypothetical would be several powerful entities from bill's past like the axolotl, the oracle, and time baby working together to somehow target his mental weak point. cause remember, time baby canonically KNOWS bill's weak point.

also like. To Me. the axolotl and the oracle are people bill was close to and has seen himself in at one point* but they matured and he didn't, and that's why he's SO hostile towards them.

*the oracle being an ex-henchmaniac is canon but i say this about the axolotl because of xolotl. look him up, it'll freak your bean.

alsooooo... ford not being as immature and vengeful as bill hoped he was is probably why bill broke down so hard - because it reminded him of the axolotl and the oracle. all the people who he actually connected with on a deeper level have left because of the same reason. but bill was always too terrified to confront everything he's done, which would be necessary to follow them.

so ends part 1... next, i think i'm gonna try to figure out how ford and bill would meet again (haha). ford is sucked into the portal right after (maybe even during?) the whole o'sadley's deal iirc sooo... fun point in the timeline to play with!

also hopin to draw stuff for this AU in the future :]c calling upon the power of my newly aquired ADHD meds lmao

[can-ya-guess-my-curent-obsession]

since you did the clingy 2d and reader one, i think its only fair theres a clingy murdoc and clingy reader one

Clingy Murdoc with a clingy GN!S/O

Author note: Well, the logic checks out to me, soooo-

[Extra note: I think I enjoyed writing the little scenario to much, I think I'm gonna take it and write a longer ending and turn it into a one shot later... ]

Requests: Open

Edited: no

Pairing: Murdoc x GN!reader

Phase: Any phase after plastic beach

TW: Clinginess, trauma from plastic beach, attachment issues, lack of communication, Murdocs inflated ego?, lack of boundaries, Murdocs a bit of an ass?, I dunno tell me anything I missed.

Remember how I called Clingy 2D and Clingy S/O two peas in a pod, well you two are just two peas in hell

If you had noticed, I had placed the phase as any time after plastic beach, because that's when Murdoc would become the most clingy, especially right after plastic beach

You see, plastic beach was a very traumatic event for him

Being isolated from the outside world, he lost most of the comforts he had become accustomed to

And while it wasn't entirely visible by just looking at him or his actions

I could see him developing attachment issues, paranoia, and maybe even some fomo(fear of missing out)

As he's scared to lose it all again

And its most visible in his relationship

Clingy Murdoc is just kinda terrified you'll leave him at any time as he's come to the realization of how fleeting everything he has in is his life is and that he could loose everything and anything at any moment and that scares him

And it's not like he communicates any of this to you, no

So clingy S/O is left blissfully unaware as to why their boyfriend wants to keep them within eye range constantly

And he'll gladly accept being loved up on

well first because it inflates his ego, and because he's scared if he says no you'll be just that much closer to leaving him

He gets very clingy when hung over, but if you're clingy when he's hung over, he gets weird

Murdoc likes to be in control of situations and if S/o's clingy to no end he feels a bit like he doesn't have control over the situation and it makes him feel vulnerable, and we all know how he feels about being vulnerable

He also has an issue with if his S/O is to clingy in public or infront of the camera

Side note Mudz refuses to be clingy much when in public or infront of a camera

He has a reputation to uphold

He doesn't want to be seen as soft or week

And I'm a fucking broken record when I say this, but

Murdzy thinks showing love and real emotions is weak

And so if Murdoc feels his S/O being too clingy in a situation where he thinks it reflects on him in a way that makes him look soft, he will start getting pissy

And may start pushing S/O away

And than S/O gets upset because Murdoc doesn't communicate why he's pushing them away, and than it becomes a fight

So there needs to be some boundaries please

But it's a different story for the most part when at home

And none of the band members are around

Because then he's a clingy little shit who whines like a little bitch if you do as much as get up to go piss

And you can't image how hard it is to get out of bed it is with his clingy ass

You shift around in bed, trying to ignore your blasting alarm. All you can do is groan as you try to get up but are unable as the weight of your boyfriend holds you down. Sighing you crane your stiff neck to look at the green man as he lays atop of you seemingly unbothered by your alarm, though all you can see is a mop of greasy black hair as his face is lodged in-between your shoulder and neck, this was accompanied by the sound of his snoring, which the second loudest thing in the room besides your alarm. It's amazing he could sleep through it, really, but you sure as hell couldn't. So, with a sigh, you tried gently moving Murdoc off you so as not to wake him because you idoticly left your phone just out of reach. You were doing well with getting Mudz off you, you could hear his snoring up until his back connected with the mattress, then you heard a husky groan, a chilling sound curtesy of your boyfriends morning voice. "Shit, sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up..." You apologize as you sit up. Without opening his eyes, Murdoc roled over onto his side and threw his arm over your waist, his hand landing on the other side of your hip. "Where ya go'in..." he said more like a statement than a question. "Can you not hear the alarm?" You say as you run your hand through his hair, enjoying the contact. "Juz, throw something at it....." Murdoc answers as he shoves his face into your side and breaths you in. "Murdoc, I have to get up," "nooo, no, you don't." "y-yea, I do," "noo.." This back and forth would continue, with the alarm screeching angerly in the background, and you truth be told didn't really want to leave the embrace of your boyfriend, so you stayed there for two hours, till you actually really needed to get out of bed, like seriously.

I mean good thing S/O's clingy to because his behavior can be straight up intrusive at times

Like, privacy? who's that?

Type of guy to walk in while you use the bathroom to brush his teeth

If you take a shower, than he's taking a shower, and I don't mean that entirely inappropriately, he just enjoys showering with his S/O

He has a need to be in your vicinity constantly

Not to mention how touchy this fuck is

Physically can not keep his hands to himself

And his S/O fucking loves in

Which inflates his already inflated ego

S/O soaks up his attention like a sponge, and he can't get enough of it

Also while may be a bit sadistic

He enjoys seeing is S/O mourn not being being close to him while he's away

Because again it inflates his ego

Watching you love him cling to him or generally just crave being around him brings him much joy at just the thought

[doumadono]

hi. I'm not sure thus counts as an emergency request but if it dose then,

ive been dealing with horrible feelings and don't want to feel like a burden with telling the people that are around me but if they have a problem then they shouldn't feel like a burden and they should come to me.

could you maybe do a bakugo with reader that has feelings of being an emotional burned and won't go to anyone else but when someone else needs them, their arms are always open?

so sorry to bother you if this doesn't count as an emergency request

A/N: I'm truly sorry to hear that you've been going through such challenging times. It's important to remember that your feelings are valid, and reaching out for support doesn't make you a burden. Just as you encourage others to come to you with their problems, it's okay to share yours too. We all need a helping hand sometimes, and you're not alone in this. If you ever feel like talking, I'm here for you ♥

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST

Bakugo watched you from a distance, his usual scowl softened by a mixture of curiosity and concern. He had noticed the way you seemed to pull away from others, a protective wall around you that was both intriguing and, in his own way, frustrating. He couldn't quite put his finger on why you carried this emotional burden, but he was determined to understand.

One day, after a particularly intense training session, he found you sitting alone, staring into the distance. Deciding to take a chance, Bakugo approached you. "Hey, you alright?" he grumbled, trying to sound less concerned than he actually was.

You looked up, meeting his fiery gaze, and offered a small, wistful smile. "Yeah, just the usual stuff, you know?"

Bakugo huffed, sitting down beside you. "Don't give me that vague crap. What's eating at you?"

You hesitated for a moment before sighing. "It's just… I feel emotionally burned. Like, I can't trust people with my feelings. But at the same time, when someone needs help, I can't say no. It's like my arms are always open for others, but I can't let anyone in."

Bakugo raised an eyebrow, his irritation shifting to something more thoughtful. "Well, that's dumb. If you can help others, you should be able to let someone help you too."

You chuckled, appreciating his straightforwardness. "Easy for you to say, Bakugo. You're not exactly the poster boy for vulnerability."

He scowled, but there was a flicker of understanding in his eyes. "Doesn't mean I don't get it. Sometimes, you gotta let people in. It doesn't make you weak, dumbass."

With those words, he surprised you by pulling you into a tight hug. It wasn't the explosive, brash Bakugo you were used to; instead, it was a gesture of genuine support. You hesitated for a moment before allowing yourself to melt into the embrace, feeling the warmth of his presence.

"There, not so hard, was it?" he grumbled, but there was a subtle reassurance in his tone.

And as Bakugo held you, you realized that maybe, just maybe, opening up to others wasn't a sign of weakness, but a courageous step toward healing.

[depravitycentral]

im sorry if this is a lame ask, but i just had the idea and thought i would share it to see if it would strike any inspo! of course on this blog you’ve talked about all the things our beloved troupe members are into, but have you ever considered what their absolute turn offs are? like things that pull them out of the mood almost immediately? or kinks that would seem to fit certain members, but end up not being their thing for one reason or another

Ooh yes anon this strikes inspo !!

This is a good point - it's all fine and dandy to imagine sex with your yandere as being so bad but so good, as if they know every secret, dirty kink and fantasy you have. (That's because they do know, whether through extensive stalking, pouring through your search histories, or raw, natural sexual chemistry with you. They all think they've got that last one, but normally any positive sexual encounters between the two of you will be a consequence of the former two rather than the latter.)

But of course, everyone has turn offs, and while your yandere would be willing to do pretty much anything to please you, even the most obsessed, unhinged yanderes have a few hard, fast exceptions.

I'm assuming you meant just hxh yanderes for this, so let's proceed moving forward with that in mind! If you meant for another fandom, please let me know and I'd be happy to discuss those yanderes too <3

Let's discuss !!

(Tw for petnames, watersports, recording, anal, pegging, crying, hitting, and other smutty things)

Chrollo Lucilfer is pretty hard to frazzle in bed, and is one of those who have done extensive, eager research into both your own personal sexual preferences, and made educated guesses on kinks that seem to correlate with ones he already knows you possess. That said, Chrollo himself isn't especially risky in bed - he'll indulge you, sure, but he doesn't have a strong desire to try anything especially crazy unless you're a big fan. And while he'll let you have your fun (particularly in the beginning of your sexual relationship, just because promising you that he'll choke you or dominate you or whatever else you may like just to get you into bed with him and somewhat willing, just because he needs to pleasure you and get you warming up to him) , most of the time sex with him is quite vanilla. He's open to listening to whatever you want, with one very, very large exception: there is no amount of pleading or bargaining that will let you peg him. He doesn't inherently believe that men should always be dominant over women, but he does believe that he should always be dominant over you. And if you were to peg him, this power structure would collapse, allowing you too much control over both his pleasure and him. He doesn't mind being in a more physically submissive position (he'll never deny you when you straddle him and tell him that you're in charge for the evening, the only response you get being a twinkle in his eye, a soft smirk and a hummed we will see, my love), but the idea of you fucking him just rubs him the wrong way. He's more vulnerable with you than he is anyone else, but Chrollo has his limits. (Besides, the idea of absolutely falling apart for you is both alluring and terrifying, because the moment you discover his prostate, he'll be a gasping mess, his cheeks tinged a light pink and his grip on the sheets below him very, very tight. It would be embarrassing, and he can't allow you to see him in such a weak position - it would derail all the hard work he's done to convince you that you need him.)

Feitan Portor really detests being called Daddy. He thinks it's weird, and even if you - sweet, perfect, irritatingly attractive you - were to say it, he still wouldn't like it. There's just something about it that rubs him the wrong way - it feels too paternal, and while he doesn't remember having a family in any biological capacity, it still just makes his skin crawl. He won't get soft immediately upon hearing you say it (he's always just slightly hard when you're in his vicinity, so rarely ever is he truly flaccid around you), but he'll need to pull out and take a breather, mentally trying to erase the sound of the petname rolling off your tongue. He can deal with other petnames - he'd be okay with sir, if only because he's always kind of had a thing for roleplaying, or at least having some sort of overarching power dynamic present during sex, and being called sir would place him in a position of absolute authority, meaning he could do whatever he wants to you and you'd just obediently obey. (You already kind of do, too scared to say no to him, but it doesn't feel as authentic - he feels less comfortable, more vulnerable and exposed and raw, and he doesn't like that.) You could even call him master if you really wanted to - similarly, it feeds his desire for playing a powerful, dominant role, but he doesn't have any sort of particularly liking towards maid costumes or anything of the sort, so it wouldn't do too much for him. He's good with nearly anything else you could throw at him, but never Daddy. Frankly, he really just prefers his own, actual name - it just sounds so damn good when you gasp it, the sound going straight to both his cock and heart.

Phinks Magcub's brows always get pinched and his lips quirk down when he thinks about the idea of you bleeding during sex. It makes his hands itch, this protectiveness welling up inside him that makes him antsy and nervous and jittery, the energy all pent up and needing to be released because god, he doesn't like seeing you hurt. Even if it makes you feel good, your moans increasing because of the pain twinged pleasure, he's unwilling to indulge you - he couldn't bring himself to purposefully make you bleed, and while he does occasionally (often) leave you bruised and incredibly sore after having his way with you, that's a whole different thing from seeing that crimson color against your pretty skin. It just makes him uncomfortable - if you asked nicely enough he'd consider maybe lightly slapping you or getting rough with you (though he's already pretty rough when he gets lost in the moment - finger shaped bruises litter your body and hickeys dance along your collarbone and neck), but he'll draw the line at drawing blood. (Similarly, he doesn't really want to bleed himself either, but he'd be more willing to be in the position of pain than putting you into that position of pain. Besides, it might help him last longer, the pleasure warded off by negative stimulation - and god knows Phinks needs all the help he can get in delaying his orgasms.)

Uvogin is pretty adventurous in bed, all things considered, but even he has a few hard turn offs, one of which being degrading you. He doesn't mind calling you needy or possessive terms of endearment, but anything with even a slight negative connotation is always preceded by a 'my', so that when he's calling you a slut it always becomes my slut. Even then, he doesn't like doing this - his natural default when he's naked with you is to be praising you, because those are honestly the thoughts running through his mind when he's got his hands on you and he's feeling your soft skin against his. He genuinely only has good, lustful, reverent things to say about your body and the fact that he's getting to touch, kiss, squeeze, and fuck you, and he's not shy about telling the truth. And so, if you were to request for him to degrade you a bit in bed or be a little meaner, he'll oblige, but it'll feel just slightly forced, his words not holding their usual deep, growling timber that always sends shivers down your spine. He ends up compromising by mixing praise and degradation, but absolutely destroying you with his thrusts and well placed circles on your clit, channeling all the harsh, humiliating energy of verbal degradation instead into how he assaults your body with an overwhelming amount of pleasure. He just doesn't like the idea of lying to you, even if it turns you on in this context, because it just feels wrong to tell you that you're only a hole for me to fuck, and holes don't talk. You're not - you're so much more than that, and he doesn't want you to think otherwise. Hell no, not with all the work he's put into making you get comfortable with him and want him. One roll around on the liviing room floor (he'd gotten impatient and didn't feel like making the thirty step journey to the bedroom) isn't worth reversing months worth of warming you up to him. Not even if you leave his back scratched up or end up so stuffed full of his cum that you're literally leaking.

Nobunaga Hazama is, frankly, just thankful and elated that you're touching him. He's delusional, compeltely out of touch with reality, and fucking weird, but he's also a major sap and literally gets heart eyes everytime he sees you. And so, in the bedroom he wants everything to be as close and sensual as possible, and for every bit of pleasure and love shared between the two of you to be expressed in full. This, of course, includes any and all noises he draws out of you - that is, Nobunaga has to have you gasping and keening and moaning. He's loud himself, and he expects sex to be full of wanton cries and a cacophany of sound; one that you are expected to eagerly contribute to. And if you don't deliver? Well, Nobunaga will just try harder, licking at your faster or thrusting harder or pinching tighter - anything and everything to get you to make a damn sound, to give stop him from having to confront the reality that you aren't enjoying this nearly as much as he is. He gets turned off when you're quiet, which is a real bummer if you aren't naturally loud - you have to be, because he won't quite until you are, even if that takes hours and hours and hours.

Alternatively, Franklin Bordeau can tell when you're faking it, and he doesn't like that. At all. He doesn't want your forced moans or fabricated shaking or anything that isn't real - he wants you, your genuine reactions to his touch, and your genuine personality in bed. He doesn't want you to sound like some pornstar - with your moans constant and high and shrill and more pained than pleasured - for two main reasons, the first of which being that it's just annoying. He's never understood the allure of a woman screaming during sex, and even in the context of actual, real pleasure, it still makes him uncomfortable. It's too close to the sounds he hears when he's working a heist - he doesn't want you to sound like them, because he has no intentions of hurting you and just the mere thought of you bloodied is enough to get him soft immediately and clutching onto you like you'll disappear any moment. The second reason why he doesn't want you to be forcing anything is because although he's decently confident in his sexual abilities, he knows he isn't making you feel that good. He's sure him fingering you isn't capable of getting you gasping and whining his name constantly - sure, it feels good, and you'll probably moan and sigh, but still. When he's fucking you, he's hopeful that you'll cry out his name, but he knows you shouldn't be screaming and rythmically, shrilly moaning. He values honesty, and hearing your real, raw reactions to his touch and his presence feels a thousand times more pleasurable than anything you could ever forcibly manufacture - especially your orgasms. He can always tell when you're faking, so don't try it. Don't.

Honestly, it's pretty difficult to get Shalnark turned off. He's kinky, adventurous, and misinterprets a lot of your responses during sex - he likes to think you're just as wild as he is, and even when you clearly don't like something, he still thinks seeing you struggle is just as arousing. (Besides, most of the time he will get you to orgasm - and seeing the internal dilemma of hating what he's doing alongside the pleasure you can't hold back is absolutely delicious.) That said, there are very specific situations that Shalnark doesn't find any attraction in - specifically, he absolutely is not willing to be cucked. Having another person in the room while he fucks you hard enough to make you cry isn't a problem at all - on the contrary, he's very, very interested in that idea, because having another man watch him claim you makes both his possessiveness and nostrils flare, his palms getting sweaty and his pants feeling tight. Cucking, on the other hand, implies that there's someone else touching you - another person sullying you, getting their disgusting hands on your perfect skin that's all his his his, and that's just simply unacceptable. He didn't go through all that trouble of kidnapping you and keeping you in a secure location just to have you touched, fucked, loved by another man. It doesn't matter if it's a stranger or someone Shalnark trusts with his life - you will not be getting intimate with another soul for the rest of your life, simply because he firmly sees you as his property, and him yours. So don't even bother bringing the idea up - he'll fuck you in front of the stranger, no problem, but they're prohibited to strictly watching. (Or, maybe, they'd be good at helping get those camera angles that are really tough to capture - right up in your face, or right zoomed into where his length - flushed red and swollen - is sinking into you over and over, the home video the perfect thing to watch tonight as he cuddles you to sleep.)

Alternatively, Machi Komacine can't stomach the thought of doing anything public. It's not that she fears getting caught, but rather that it makes her uncomfortable that anyone could see the two of you. Someone could just pass by and happen to get an eyeful of you - your pretty skin and curves, your lovely body that her eyes always seem to get stuck on, watching, wanting, yearning. She's not spontaneous in any way when it comes to sex, and she just doesn't see the allure of the risk or danger involved. She's too possessive; it takes her so long to even allow herself to see you naked, and to have a stranger do that and even see your face while she's pleasuring you, while you're coming? The thought makes her nen flare up, the urge to wrap you in her arms and keep the world from even catching a glimpse of you only growing stronger. Even aside from her possessiveness, the idea of doing something where others could see you makes her nervous, too, because Machi isn't entirely confident in her abilities to actually please you in the bedroom. Sure, she understands female anatomy and has a good sense of what you like from all that stalking, but actually doing it? That's a different thing entirely - and the pressure of pleasing you coupled with the pressure of other people potentially watching her struggle makes her feel uncomfortable, a foreign, heavy sense of self doubt settling heavily in her gut. It's just not for her - sex belongs in the bedroom, or perhaps the couch or kitchen table. Not outside of your 'shared' apartment, and certainly not where someone else could get an eyeful of what's hers.

Pakunoda will still jump on the opportunity to pleasure you and be pleasured, but in general she'll be hesitant if the both of you are still fully clothed. She doesn't see the appeal of clothed sex - she wants you completely bared to her, utterly raw, your body on display for her to worship and touch and mark. She thinks keeping the clothing on is not only impractical, but diminishes the intimacy between the two of you. You'll get all sorts of sticky, hard to clean things staining the clothes, and because she can be a little snobby about materialistic delights like luxury clothing, she's not exactly keen on getting your slick all over her nice clothes. (Although, she wouldn't be entirely opposed to having your slick all over her skin, like you're leaving a mark of possession on her. Just not the clothes.) Clothes stop her from being able to fully explore your body, and, as much as she'd never admit it, when you have your clothing on it makes it much harder to use her nen on you. That is, while it makes her feel a little dirty and slimy, she will be using her ability to dig into your memories for any information on your kinks and fantasies, just because she wants to make sex as perfect and pleasurable for you as she possibly can. So shed the layers with her - it makes things so much better. Plus, the sight of you bare and squirming underneath her, looking all pretty and submissive and cute is certainly a drool worthy sight.

All things considered, Shizuku Murasaki is actually kind of picky about sex. She likes things to be her way or the highway, and as her darling you'll be forced to go along with all of her preferences and wants. And while she loves all things oral, there are a few things she's absolutely unwilling to do. Namely, while she worships you and cherishes you as much as a mass-murderer can, she will not indulge you in anything involving your asshole. It's a cleanliness thing for her; she knows you're clean (she'd just bathed with you this morning and personally hand washed you, paying very, very careful attention to your cunt), but she has a mental block against having her mouth anywhere near that part of you. She's always felt this way with every partner she's had - she just doesn't understand the allure of anal, whether that be fingering, oral, or penetration. She'd much, much rather pay attention to other areas of your body - your pussy, your thighs, your breasts, your mouth. She'll always shy away when she's got her face between your legs, but unfortunately for you, this courtesy does not extend to you too. She doesn't expect you to do anything with her ass, but she certainly won't stop you if you're getting too close, or if you get the desire. She'll just blink at you and tell you to be careful, then pull your head in by your hair and get you closer and closer and closer, enjoying the experience despite herself. Shizuku is a little hypocritical in a lot of aspects in sex, but this is one particular area where she's absolutely unfair.

Hisoka Marrow is a freak in every sense of the word. Genuinely, there is very, very little you could do that would cause him to fall out of the mood, or to rid him of the insistant, raging boner nearly everything you do gives him. He'll try anything once, and he firmly believes in keeping your sex life interesting and varied. That said, he certainly has preferences, and one thing that sits quite low on his list of preferred bedroom activities is to be worshipped. It's not that he doesn't want your attention and praise (he does, urgently), but rather that there's something about the position of being the one drowned in compliments and confessions of love that makes him a little uncomfortable. Perhaps it's because he's not used to being in such a submissive, vulnerable position, or maybe it's because he doesn't feel like he's got enough control of the situation. It doesn't really matter, because Hisoka will always send teasing remarks your way when you get the courage to be the dominant one, and that will almost always derail you enough to get you steering away from any territory that gets dangerously close to becoming too vulnerable and real for him. He loves you in his own twisted, strange way, but he's not ready to open himself up fully to you, to let you take full charge and just take care of him. He may never be ready, really, so any dreams you have of fully dominating him and reducing him to a trembling, fucked out mess will have to remain just that - dreams.

In general, Illumi Zoldyck will try most things you suggest. It's not that he's especially adventurous in the bedroom, but rather that you're the first person he's ever had any sexual contact with, and everything with you feels good, so he wants to try it all. He has very few boundries when it comes to you, and so consequently, there aren't too many things that turn him off. However, he does have two surefire things that he'll immediately and vehemently outright refuse. Firstly, he will absolutely not wear any protection. He turns his nose at the thought of condoms, and will only laugh in your face if you suggest using them for obvious reasons. He will be entering you in the most natural way possible, and he will be finishing as deeply inside of you as he can manage. Secondly, he absolutely will not allow another person to be involved in your sex life. There will be no third person in your bed, no other person for you to be pleasuring and be pleasured by. There is only you and Illumi - it's your sex life, and it makes his possessiveness flare up to dangerous proportions to imagine another person seeing you in such a vulnerable, intimate position. So really, don't even bother bringing up the idea - he won't even consider it, already shooting it down before you're finished getting the sentence out. (And after he finishes lecturing you about how another man or woman has no place in your bed, he'll promptly fuck you right then and there - no matter where you are - just to prove his point. He's all you need, after all.)

Sex with Kurapika Kurta is soft and sensual. It can be a little rougher if he's had a particularly bad day, or if he's recently had a run in with the Troupe, but for the most part he makes love rather than fucks. And because of this, he really, really doesn't like seeing you cry during sex. It makes him uncomfortable, his instincts begging him to comfort you and eliminate whatever caused your tears. He associates crying with the early days of when he'd kidnapped you, back when you were still terrified of him and much too scared to even stand to look at him, much less allow him to touch you. And particularly in the context of sex, he does not want to be reminded of all the horrible things he's done to you - things are good now, happy, and you've finally come around to the idea that he loves you, that you'll spend the rest of your life with him. And so, the moment there are tears beading at your eyes, he's immediately going soft, his palms cupping your cheeks as he stares wildly at you, asking in a rushed, still breathless voice if you're alright, if you're hurt, if you're upset and who he needs to kill to right this wrong. He overreacts, and it always, always turns into either self hatred aimed at himself for ruining your happiness, or a bloodthirsty desire to kill whoever is upsetting you. The only exception to his hatred of you crying is when it's done because you're too overstimulated, the pleasure too much for you to even process. When you're so fucked out from the pleasure he gave you, then the tears are acceptable. He still doesn't like them all that much, but it's at least a sign that he's treating you well, that he's able to make you feel good and pleasured, and it makes pride swell in his chest. So in general, try not to cry in front of him - he goes flaccid in mere seconds, his protective nature ramping up and any semblance of sexiness gone immediately.

When Leorio Paradinight has you in bed, he's almost in a state of utter awe, almost unable to really process what's going on. He's just so incredibly aroused by you, even if you're just laying beside him with your clothes fully on, and because of this he's game to try pretty much anything you want in bed. He's genuinely just so fucking excited to be with you that he'll do basically anything you want, no matter how degrading or gross or off the wall. That said, however, he doesn't really understand the appeal of pet play. He doesn't harbor any fantasies of you donning a set of bunny ears or a tail or anything of the sort, simply because he doesn't really like fantasies that change you, even if it's something as trivial as your ears. He thinks of you as perfection, and that includes every proportion of your body, every freckle, mole, hair and blemish you could have, and he doesn't want to pretend that you aren't exactly who - and what - you are. Besides, he just doesn't see the appeal; he wants you to talk and moan for him when he's touching you, not have you purr or whine or any other animal noise. He thinks it's a little weird, if he's being honest, and while he'll begrudgingly agree if you beg him to try it out (he'll do anything to see you smile, after all), his orgasm won't come as pathetically easily as normal. This extends to pet play where he's the one dressing up as a pet, too - he's more likely to enjoy it this way, but there's something humiliating about the butt plug tail and the fox ears, and it's humiliating in all the wrong ways. He's just not too big of a fan - now if you wanted to get some sort of ownership roleplay going that didn't involve pets or animals, he'd be all over that - the moment you refer to yourself as mommy or his mistress, he's practically creaming his pants, getting on his knees for you and begging for you to touch him. (And maybe even step on him, depending on how needy he's feeling that day.)

Razor, despite sometimes losing control in bed and getting a little rougher than he means to, will never willingly hit you in bed. He doesn't like the idea of slapping you. He might gently pat your ass when you're bouncing on top of him, but it's only just enough to make you yelp, only enough to make a slight smack noise of skin against skin. Hitting you - even in the context of sexual pleasure - reminds him too much of his younger days, back when he was a criminal and was much less controlled, much more dangerous. And really, that's the last thing he wants you to see him as - he wants you to take comfort in him, to want him to hold you and touch you, and he's sure that even if you want him to get rough with you and manhandle you, to smack your cheek and tell you to behave for him, you will start associating him with pain and violence. And he just can't have that - not after all the work he's gone through to prove that despite kidnapping you, he's not the monster you think he is. (Besides, there's just something more meaningful about softer, sweeter sex - he's fucked more women than he'd care to admit, but you're the first one he's gone slow with, the first one he's really taken his time with. And while it might be stupid, that makes you different in his eyes - like he's saved something special for you, like the passionate, romantic side of him that comes out when he's got you naked and stretched out on his fingers is something only you'll ever get to see.)

Another man who tries to keep things a bit vanilla in the bedroom (not for the same reasons as Razor, but rather because he just genuinely prefers more intimate and tame sex) is Knuckle, who can't stand the thought of recording your intimate times. He does objectively think the idea is a bit hot, but he's too worried that somehow the recordings will get leaked, that somehow other people will get their hands on precious recordings of him making love to you, of him making you moan and sigh and fall apart on his tongue and fingers and cock. He views the time you both spend together in the sheets as being almost sacred, like something special that's reserved only for the two of you, and having a camera rolling would just make everything feel too impersonal. It would make him nervous, too, because he'd want to rewatch the tapes with you just so he can see your face the whole time (he tends to lose himself the closer he gets to his orgasm, and always buries his face in your neck to try and make himself last longer, so he misses seeing your facial expressions when he's finishing inside you), but he'd be worried about the way he looks, about whether he looks attractive to you, dominant to you, sexy to you. However, despite his reservations about recording himself fucking you, he will photograph you in the pretty, feminine lingerie he buys for you. He'll get a new color or cut, and have you try on the set, posing for the camera while he takes a few shots, his pants visibly straining around his swollen cock because god, you look good. He'll keep the photographs in his pants pocket and never, ever share them, always looking back at them when he's away on missions and missing you. He's a bit hypocritical, but the moment a camera gets trained on him, he's turning red and clamming up.

Morel is another one who's very flexible in the bedroom, and would be difficult to completely turn off. However, one thing that Morel just simply can't get behind is watersports. He'll try it, if you really beg him to, but he just doesn't like it. It feels unsanitary to him (and god, the mess), but even beyond that it just feels a little degrading, and not in a good way. If you really, really pushed him on it, he'd give in and do as you please, reluctantly forcing himself to release onto you, but the entire time he'd be feeling guilty, discomfort eating at him because isn't it horribly disrespectful to be literally pissing on you? He loves you, and it just sits wrong with him. He'll refuse after that first time, and while he's not particularly into it, if you really, really wanted to, he'd let you reverse the roles. He's not particularly eager to have you wet yourself or piss on him, but that's better because now at least you're the one in the position of power. Plus, you're begrudgingly a little cute when you get all embarrassed about it. But still, it's most definitely not something he desires, and while he'd entertain your fantasies once in a blue moon, it certainly won't be a regular occurrence in your sex life together.

[gxr25256]

The Reunion - Overlord x reader (4)

🌵 Story belongs to PotatooftheLand (they deleted the work and I'm really sad).

🌵 I just rewrote the story according to what I remember reading and according to my imagination.

🌵 Enjoy reading!

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The air around him is thick with the scent of spilled energon and burnt metal, hanging over the lifeless forms like a heavy cloud. But that’s not what stills his servos, bringing the warmth he’d long forsaken back into his frozen, fractured spark. No, it’s the voice—your voice—cutting through the silence. A voice so familiar, it slips through the cracks in his armor, slips into the darkest corners of his mind where your memory has been imprisoned for so long.

“That’s enough.”

It's a gentle command, but one that halts his every movement, every thought. He knows it could only belong to one being—the only one whose approval could tame the wild beast that lurks within him.

He drops the broken body of his latest victim to the ground without a second thought, forgetting the rush of the kill, the dark satisfaction it brings him. Instead, his optics flicker with a strange light, something almost soft in its glow. He takes a step closer, drinking in the sight of you. It’s been so long. So many vorns, countless oceans of absence between you, years spent searching, reaching, hoping against hope that you might return to him.

"Sweetspark," he purrs, his voice dripping with relief, like a predator that’s finally cornered its prey. He takes another step forward, emboldened by your presence, his optics alight with a twisted, possessive glee. "There you are."

You remain still, barely a flicker of emotion in your gaze. But he notices, as he always does, the way your shoulders stiffen, the slight trembling in your frame. You’re trying so hard to stay firm, to stay strong, even as he invades your space, looming closer. His servos reach out, brushing lightly against your arm, a barely-there touch meant to test your reaction. His fingers graze against you with all the delicacy of a lover’s caress, before they settle firmly on your waist.

The grip is possessive, grounding him in this moment, yet your expression is nothing like the love-drunk gaze he remembers. He hates the way you look at him, with such cold scorn in your optics. You used to gaze at him with warmth, with love so gentle it seeped into his very spark, a warmth that had comforted him during long, lonely nights in his habsuite. He remembers the way you’d trail butterfly kisses across his faceplate, the way you’d whisper words of hope into the silence, urging him to believe in a goodness he never quite grasped. He had never understood it, but he had craved it all the same.

Now, that tenderness is gone, replaced by a coldness that strikes deeper than any wound he’s ever suffered.

Leaning in, he presses his lips close to your audials, his voice a low murmur meant for your hearing alone. “I missed you.” His words carry a darkly tender note, twisted and dangerous, yet painfully sincere. They come from the fractured remains of his spark, a truth he’d never dare confess if it weren’t for this vulnerable, surreal moment. Saying it aloud makes him feel exposed, weak—a feeling he despises, even as he holds you close.

The softness in his tone unsettles you, and you pull away, disgust twisting across your face as if his mere touch sullies you. And then, you spit out words he didn’t want to hear—words that shatter the delicate fantasy he’d harbored.

“You’re a monster.”

The words slice into him with a precision he can’t ignore, nearly forcing him to flinch. His spark burns with the realization that you mean every syllable, that your bitterness is real. He steels himself, masking the hurt with a smirk that he hopes hides the cracks beginning to show.

“Oh, and why is that?” His tone is mocking, hiding the bruised ego beneath a veneer of indifference. He’s lost you—he can feel it in his lines, the agony twisting deeper with every passing moment. But he won’t let you see him bleed.

He had known, of course. He had always known that you wouldn’t want someone like him, not truly. You had been so innocent back on Cybertron, unable to stomach even the refereed gladiator matches broadcast on the public holo-networks. A sigh of amusement slips past his lips at the memory of your protests, your wide-eyed horror whenever he’d try to justify his need for the thrill, for the violence that kept his circuits alive.

And yet, in his most desperate dreams, in the throes of long nights of solitude, he’d allowed himself to hope, to imagine a version of you that would accept him. In those dreams, he’d imagined you would come to him, throw yourself into his arms, clinging to him with a love that transcended logic or sanity.

“Overlord! I was so worried about you,” he’d imagine you crying, your words frantic, urgent with relief. “After the war broke out, I kept searching and searching—“

The fantasy fades, dissolving like the ashes of a burnt-out spark. Here, in the cold, bitter reality, your eyes are filled with something far different. There is no tearful reunion, no joy or relief, only fury and heartbreak.

“Do you need me to spoon-feed you answers?” you snap, voice laced with venom that makes his spark seize. “You just killed an innocent Cybertronian, for starters.” The irritation in your voice like sandpaper against his circuits. The bite in your words is harsh, uncaring, and Overlord’s entire being hums with a fury he barely controls. Yet all he can do is smirk, his expression twisting into a mockery of amusement.

“Is that all?”. A veneer he uses to mask the guttural scream building in his chest. Because he knows the truth, even if he’d sooner shatter every piece of his own spark than admit it: you’ll never love him. Not anymore.

You are walking. He’s falling, grasping for anything to cling to, anything to stop this downward spiral that you’ve triggered just by speaking, by being here, by existing in a way that makes him remember everything he tried so hard to forget. The smirk he holds is so fragile, more like a mask stretched too tight over the roiling turmoil beneath, and every bit of hurt you hurl at him shatters him more than he’ll ever admit.

He’d imagined a reunion a thousand times, each one a small flicker of twisted hope—hope that, perhaps, you would forgive him, that you’d see him as a misunderstood soul forced by circumstance into brutality. He’d envisioned you clinging to him, desperate to hold onto the being he once was, sobbing and reaching for him as he explained, in his carefully constructed dreams, that he had to do this. That violence was simply his nature, born of necessity, not cruelty.

But here, in the cold light of reality, you’re staring at him as though he’s already dead to you, as if he’s just another broken piece of metal discarded in the battlefield. A scream builds in his processors, but he chokes it back, refusing to let you see how deeply he’s hurting.

The weight of your gaze made something in his processor spin. He’d believed, against all reason, that the connection you shared would endure, that your patience and love could withstand even the most damning of his crimes. It was a delusion, he knows now.

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[notmorbid]

the vanishers.

dialogue prompts from the vanishers by heidi julavitz.

what happened to me could never happen to you. tell yourself that.

they told me it was all in my head.

you were a mother to me when no one else wanted the job.

why be fair? nobody's been fair to me.

you are all subtlety and whispers.

we were all in some form of love with ____.

in other words, i made shit up.

you really do look kind of dead.

i heard you'd been sick for a long time.

there's nothing you could tell me about yourself that i don't already know.

i recognize you now.

it might be good for you. a disruption to the given system.

according to ___, i'm pathologically territorial.

anything can appear meaningful, at a backward glance.

we are not that sort of people.

most meaningful sentiments are cheapened by articulation.

how would i know, if you never told me?

i am, though. sorry.

i don't hide things from you on purpose.

i practice a no attachment policy. i am all business.

it's no big deal to be used by strangers. it's when you're used by people you know that life becomes unfathomable.

don't worry. your life is about to get better.

when you're ready to fight, give me a call.

what was your authorial intent?

i don't know if i'd call it a career. more of an inspired hobby.

we could be of mutual use to one another.

anything you divulge can be used against you.

i don't go where i'm not invited.

everyone has vulnerabilities. everyone has a weak spot.

when will you stare your sad life in the face?

revenge is not a compelling therapeutic goal.

hate is a form of emotional attachment.

maybe that's your problem. thinking it can be understood.

to forget is to respect the past.

you must have missed yourself.

your good intentions mean nothing.

the past is not past if it is always present.

memory is an act of murder.

i'm an expert at ruining people's lives. it's the one talent i possess.

you might learn things you wish you hadn't.

in some cases, a lie can be more valuable than the truth.

people can be remarkably thoughtless.

tell me why you don't love me.

you are such a parasite.

anything i have of my mother's, i've had to steal.

i know better than to ask anything of you.

what does someone have to do for you to classify them as a monster?

your emotions are like water. they pour onto the people around you.

i tried to say i was sorry.

you're doomed to fail because you're too scared to try.

disappearing isn't very hard when no one is looking for you.

there's no need to be sorry. that's why i don't tell people.

to think i've been afraid of this. to think i've been afraid of you.

come. i'm not going to hurt you.

do you believe i saw a ____?

you really do look like shit.

were you trying not to be found?

i should lie to you, but i don't know you well enough.

to heal is to entomb forever the sickness.

i'm going home, wherever that is.

what good has running away ever done?

there is no knowing the truth from ____.

some people have no taste.

you deserve to have every ounce of marrow sucked from your bones by a hummingbird.

i am not too scared to try.

i want, more than anything, not to be alone.

i'm glad you understand. maybe you can make me understand.

you think i need a massage therapist? what i need is a gun.

it's important to remember that those commit murder are not making smart choices.

i am my mother's daughter. you should be worried.

we don't want people to talk more than they're already going to.

winter in new england is always coming.

sometimes you can resolve the unresolvable by accepting it as unresolvable.

so you're not looking to get better?

reasons are for the survivors. they do the dead no good.

'good health' means being unaware of one's health.

i'm sorry. i can't ever seem to tell you what you want to hear.

don't worry about what i want to hear. tell me what you want me to know.

what you want a person to know is often the last thing you want a person to know.

there's so much i can't tell you. no matter how much i want to.

people overestimate the value of expression.

blame is the cord you can never sever.

[weepingchronicles]

Hey! Do you mind me requesting platonic yandere for both Joel and Ellie? I was literally imagining like what if reader was a part of an enemy group that maybe kidnapped Ellie but like over the course of like maybe a couple of days they became friends until you know Joel comes to get Ellie out of there

platonic yandere joel and ellie with enemy reader! (unedited)

tw/cw: yandere, manipulation, violence, mentions of death, immolation

word count: 1,755

thank you for requesting! for this i went with a reader whose a little bit older than ellie just because it made more sense in my head! hope u don't mind

"Let me go, let me go!"

The pitiful cries of the prisoner next door were hard to ignore, I wince and continue making her meal.

It's been a day of non-stop yelling and screaming, we had to tape her mouth again and again to not attract anyone, especially the man we first found her with. My higherups had told me it was probably dead since he was very injured when they found them and probably succumbed to his wounds, especially in this rough winter. But the prisoner wasn't too convinced, or maybe she was trying to convince herself who knows.

I enter the room and see the girl, sympathy fills my chest as i see her cradled up, still tied to the pole and within a large metal cage. I begin to unlock it, holding the warm oatmeal in my other hand. Her eyes pierce throughout my body, like a blood-thirsty animal trying to spot my weakness.

"I made you breakfast." I say with a weak smile, my higherups told me that this girl deserved this, she was caught stealing food and pulled a gun on them. Besides, we hadn't intended to hurt her but we couldn't exactly let her walk freely either.

"I don't want it." She says, a scowl on her face as she refuses eye contact with me. I sigh and put down the bowl next to her.

"You haven't ate and it's cold down here," I shove the bowl closer to her. "Please."

I see hesitation in her face for a moment but she relents. "Fine, just untie me."

I smile happily and go to untie her. Once both of her hands are free, she elbows me in the nose, knocking me down on the ground.

Blood rushes down from my nostrils from the hit and the prisoner runs out the cage. Trying to find a way out, she runs to a door leading outside.

"No, wait!" I scream, trying to stand up. Two guards who were standing watch outside push Ellie to the ground. I scream, running to them. The guards pull a gun on her, ready to shoot.

"No, don't!" The girl has a wild scared look on her face and I don't even care if she hurt me, wouldn't I have done the same?

The guards look me up and down, "This bitch hurt you! Besides we can't have her escaping again, we should have killed her when we first found her-"

"No, please, she's just a kid! I promise, if she escapes again kill her but not today." I put myself in front of the gun, the girl looking between me and the guards.

One of the guards tsk and lowers his weapon. I let out a sigh of relief and the guards drag her to the cage again, locking her inside. She gives me a look before I'm dragged off somewhere. The look was unrecognizable but it almost looked like trust?

I come back again the next day. "What happened to you?" the girl asks, staring at the next deep scar in my cheek.

"I was the one who almost let you escape, remember?" I say, and the girl looks down almost apologetically.

"So.. why did you do it anyway? I mean, let me live."

"I would have done the same in your position. You're like me."

A few moments of silence pass until the girl speaks again.

"Ellie."

"What?"

"My name is Ellie..." Ellie utters, she doesn't look at me but it's clear she is being vulnerable.

I smile, "I'm (Y/N), how old are you?"

"Fourteen."

"Wow, I'm only a couple years older than you. So.. why did you steal food anyway?"

"I didn't know anyone lived near! And Joel needed medicine..."

Curiosity sparks in my head, "Is Joel your family?"

"Ugh, no! He's just kinda.. looking after me. I'm the reason he got hurt." Ellie lets out, refusing to say anymore.

"Oh. I know how that feels, to have someone you care about get hurt protecting you," I say solemnly.

Ellie doesn't say anymore so I try to change the topic. For hours and the next couple of days we become closer, we learn we like the same comics and music. Ellie has seen stuff that I have never even known about. She often pleads to help me escape but there is only so much I can do, if they find out I helped I would be killed or kicked out to die. Ellie says I can join her and Joel but I'm not sure if I'm ready to leave..

I'm sleeping peacefully until I am woken up by silent shaking. I open my eyes groggily, fully widening once I see Ellie standing over me while shushing me.

"Ellie..? Wha-" "Shh, I'm going to get you out of here."

"What..?" Ellie forcibly pulls me up, hurriedly putting on my boots and coat for me as I stand in confusion.

"I don't understand- how did you get out and why are-"

Ellie hisses in frustration and grabs me by my shoulders, "Listen! The infected got in and there's no time to explain. Joel is waiting for us, we have to leave now!"

My head is swarming with thoughts and anxiety and before I know it I'm rushing out the door into the cold air with Ellie gripping my hand.

"Where are we going!?" I yell, stumbling a bit in the thick snow.

"C'mon!" Ellie yells, not answering my question as she drags me along further, seeming to head nearer to the woods.

In the distance there is smoke and fire, I can hear the faint noise of glass shattering and gunshots. I gasp, hearing the screams if I listen closely enough but I choose not to.

We reach the fence protecting us from the woods, and Ellie throws her backpack and mine over.

"Okay, you're gonna have to jump over. Joel is going to meet us there."

I hesitate, looking back seeing my whole community go up in flames. In a quick decision, I start climbing the fence falling onto the snow once I make it over. Ellie does the same and we both grab onto our backpacks and head further into the woods. Darkness surrounds us, the only thing lighting the world being the fire illuminating the sky into a bright orange. We run in the woods until we can no longer hear the gunshots. It is silent except for our panting breaths, until there is a sound of a branch cracking.

I don't react fast enough, a Runner charges at me with lightning speed. I scream but before it reaches me Ellie tackles it to the ground, using a dagger to stab at its head.

"Ellie!" I rush in to help her, lifting her off the corpse when its finally dead.

"Ellie, your hand." I point to her, and she looks down to see a ring of teeth marks aligning around her wrist, blood already dripping down from the gash.

I begin to break down, my only friend is infected and it was all to save me. I curl into a ball, sobbing. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm-" "(Y/N), no, I'm fine! Look, I'm immune!" Ellie lifts up her sleeve showing a months old bite mark.

"What.. how?" I look up at her, tears still welling in my eyes. "I don't know how, it just is. But all that matters is that you're okay." Ellie hugs me tightly, I relax in her hold finding comfort in the only friend I have that I don't even notice another set of footsteps approaching.

"Ellie!? Ellie!" A man with a Texan accent comes up rushing to us. An instinctual fear creeps up on me as soon as I see the man, he is bloodied and carrying a shotgun. It is clear he has had some kind of training even before the apocalypse, and him being alive nowadays is enough reason to not fuck around with him. Despite all that, Ellie goes rushing to hug him, seeking protection but all I feel is bad feelings coming from him.

"(Y/N), this is Joel, the man who I was with."

"Hi.." I stammer out the best I can. I don't know if I'm shaking from the cold or in fear.

"Hello," Joel says roughly, he extends his hand to hold my shoulder and I try my best to not wince.

"Ellie said you're comin' with us, so let's get a move on before more trouble comes."

I nod and Ellie locks her arm with mine following Joel further away to my burning home. As we walk, I can't help but question everything.

How did Ellie escape? How is Joel seemingly fine although he was injured and needed medicine? Why do I feel so suspicious of Joel?

More and more questions ambush my thoughts and I can't help but seek confirmation to them.

"Ellie, you never answered my question before on how'd you escape..?" I notice Ellie tighten her grip on me slightly which immediately raises red flags in my head.

"Joel found me."

"Right, but I thought Joel was injured but he seems fine to me." Joel stops leading the way, halting in his tracks.

"You sure ask a lotta questions, kiddo."

"Then give me the answers to them!" I plead, I want to believe Ellie and Joel, to believe I didn't just abandon my community to die by itself. Ellie stammers urging Joel not to say something, but he sighs and says "You really want to know? I was never injured in the first place and I knew Ellie was here for awhile now but we planned an attack today because she wanted you."

"Me? Wait, you killed those people? Most of them did nothing and now they're dead because of you!" Tears are streaming down my face now, my only friend has been lying to me, pleading for me to let her go when she could have done it this whole time.

Joel's eyes darken, "I know, so you better come with us because I didn't do all that shit for nothing!" I back up, trying to plot a run from Joel and Ellie even though I have nowhere to go. "No, I'm not going anywhere with you both!" Ellie suddenly grabs me arms, pinning it to my back. I struggle but the smaller girl is more stronger than me, Joel steps closer, pulling something out of his pocket and WHAM, I feel a pain in my skull and the world fades to black..

a/n: sorry if this is bad and i know it took long, i was struggling with the ending and it also just didn't seem yandere enough? constructive criticism is welcome. also i know joel was just kind of mean in this but i feel he'd be a slow kind of yandere, like he wouldn't start to RLLY care about you until way later but yknow

[sinner-sunflower]

P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 4/?

STORY 1, PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 14.5, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22, PART 23, PART 24, PART 25, PART 26

More on the siblings' program.

-----------------------------------------------

Lucifer stifled a chuckle as he observed his brother's expression. If only Michael knew that Lucifer had already been informed of his impending demise. He's more shocked that Heaven might be the cause of his death.

Heaven's really keen on killing him, huh.

Lucifer: I'm immortal! You're being ridiculous.

Michael: And you're being a fool! These threads just made a divine move. This had never happened before!

Lucifer: Then why tell me, huh?! Last I checked, you and Heaven could barely give a rat's ass about whether or not I'm still alive.

Michael: Because believe it or not, I do still care about you! You're my little brother, Samael!

Lucifer: I said my name is L̴͎̭̥͎͊̀u̷̧̨̟̻͓͗̍c̷̢̪̱̄̀̊̎̀͝ì̷̘͚̰̖̦̱f̴̻̮̲̮͈͈͑̓̃̃̊e̸̫̒͑͒͊͗͆r̸̨̤̀̂̚͝ͅͅ!

Sue him if he couldn't control the fiery words that erupted from his mouth. Michael always had a knack for provoking him, intentionally or not.

Lucifer: And you have a funny way of showing it. Did you know that the Fall almost killed us?! Lily and I had to lay there, surrounded by darkness, bodies so burnt we couldn't move for weeks.

Despite the looming threat posed by the King of Hell, Michael refuses to back down. Instead, he straightens his posture and closes the distance between them, showing the unwavering protector of Heaven that he is.

Michael: You don't understand! I- it was such a hard decision! It was the best option! I'm Heaven's protector and-

Lucifer: You were my protector too!

The Archangel was taken aback, a rare moment of vulnerability revealing itself in his features. Lucifer, observing this reaction, knows he has struck a chord. Despite Michael's claims of caring for his family, it's evident that Heaven had, and always has been his top priority.

Michael thinks about a lot of things too. Like how everything would've turned out different if he was never given this duty- this purpose.

Michael: They were going to kill you.

Lucifer couldn't remember the last time he had heard his brother speak to him with such softness.

Michael: Your original punishment was death. They wanted you killed. By my blade. We begged them to reconsider. You should've seen it-

The warrior of Heaven laughs wetly.

Michael: -the Archangels of Heaven, on their knees in front of people other than our Lord. It took so many meetings for them to relent. That's why you and Lilith spent a long time held in the Garden.

Lucifer: Shut up.

Michael: So, I'm really sorry that we let you down.

Lucifer: Shut up, Michael.

His brother once again composed himself, his gaze turning cold as it met Lucifer's.

Michael: But if I had the chance to go back, I would do it all over again.

Of course. Heaven always comes first.

Lucifer: You should've killed me when you had the chance. And now you think you can beat me at my own game?

He attempts to crush the thread still held in his hand, its glow resembling the purest gold. It seems to almost be trying to talk to him, to reason with him like Michael every time they meet. But it all sounds like mockery to his ears.

He hates it.

Lucifer lets out a manic laugh.

Lucifer: Divine move? Divine move? You think you have any moves at all?!

He begins to yell at the threads.

Lucifer: Maybe then, Heaven could've killed that weak, naive angel. But me? ME?! Ì̶̢̤̉'̵͙͕͑M̷̱͋̀ ̵̬͌T̴̥͠͝H̸̫́̑E̶̳̠̐̎ ̴̠̣̎̐D̷̼̕E̵̢̳͆V̶̳̩̉̋Ì̶̬L̴̥̗̾ ̴̮͝F̸̝̓̀Ų̸̠͗̑C̵͚͗K̷̺̚̚I̵̠̋̕Ň̸͎͈G̵̘̔ ̵̤͛I̸̩͐N̷̥̰̋C̸͓̒̍A̴̙̓R̵͍͛N̴̤͎͠A̵͇̟̓Ṯ̴̯͊Ḙ̴͑̇,̴̰͆̑ ̵̤́ͅÝ̴̙̫̈́O̵͚͐͒U̵̙͂ ̷̱̆͜͝Ċ̸͍̌Á̷̰́N̸͉̈'̶͇̎͂T̵̠̒ ̶͖́K̶̛̲̮̆I̸͎̘͐̃L̴̟̙̔̿L̴̜̾͊ ̶̱̥̌M̵̳̕E̵͈̯͋́!

Lucifer's disguise falters, his emotions resonating through his disguise as his golden hair reverts back to the darkness Roo had cursed him with.

The threads began humming. Were they afraid of them? Of him? That's funny, Fate itself, afraid of him? He wonders if even Death would tremble in his presence.

Michael splutters in disbelief at the sight of Lucifer's transformed appearance.

Michael: Lucifer—what? Why do you look like that? What did you-

The younger doesn't grace his brother with an answer or allow him to finish. Instead, he summons Keekee once more and swiftly opens a portal back to Hell.

Lucifer: Don't worry, Mika. I won't die that easily because I'll be there to watch Heaven fall.

Nothing matters. Not his brother's shouts of concern, not the short thread, not Roo's cryptic words. What matters is Charlie and her future.

He'll defy Fate if he has to.

-----------------------------------------------

Michael slumps on a chair in exhaustion after Lucifer left. He fears for the worst of Heaven and his brother's fates.

He grabs an orb from his pocket dimension and starts to recite and incantation to call his siblings. He knows he should tell the others, to discuss The Fates, Heaven, and Sa-Lucifer. Lucifer who is clearly hiding something.

But he hesitates.

'Knowing them, they would go down to Hell to confront Lucifer and it might just make things worse with their little brother than it already is. '

Before he could make a decision, there's a loud crash from beyond the door.

Michael: Hello?

He vaguely hears shushing on the other side and a bit of arguing. Slowly, he approaches the door. He grabs the knob and swings it open swiftly.

Michael: Gabriel, I told you not to-

Michael stops in surprise as he stares at his eavesdroppers. One lets out a squeak while the other saluted him.

'A young Seraph and a winner?'

Emily: Archangel Michael! We-uh- we can explain!

Sir Pentious: Your Heavenly Grace!

----------------------------------

A Shameless and Teen Wolf reference??

I miss season 3b. Nogitsune Stiles was the best villain to come out of that show.

Edited some stuff! Moved a few dialogues

[backjustforberena]

i will join you in your corlys thoughts!

the scene in the last ep reminded me of the scene when laena died, though there was no arguing, it was them both trying to make the other see things from their pov, and when it got hard, corlys pulled away, yet again.

which has always been his way.

corlys loves rhaenys, there’s no doubt about that - it’s clear in the way he looks at her, in the way he speaks to her - but it seems he is a bit self-absorbed in the sense that he can’t be there for her when he’s shaken. how can you be someone’s rock when the ground you’re one is shaken? and obviously he can’t be vulnerable with her. he must carry his house on his back. and if he can’t, he might as well be dead, according to the deleted scripts from 1x10.

i think that scene is the most vulnerable that we have seen corlys be, and it’s by no choice of his own - he’s physically weak, injured, and still he tries to make her laugh. still he tries to comfort her by telling her all the things he thinks she’s been wanting to hear. and when rhaenys sheds a tear, his face, you see him look concerned, can basically hear the “oh shit, oh no, how do i fix this!?”

I think one of the very things that attracted rhaenys to corlys (according to the actress at least) - his masculinity, his macho-ness, his the very thing that is pretty detrimental to their relationship.

(sorry for rambling in your ask box!)

YOU CAN RAMBLE IN MY INBOX AT ANY TIME. Because I think you're right.

I don't think Corlys pulls away because things are hard. Bear with me. I think he's absolutely fine when things get hard because if that weren't the case then they wouldn't be such a unit. It would be a fatal flaw in their relationship if whenever things got hard, he just shut down or ran away. If there are external forces threatening them, then he's in it. If there are people who are messing with them or she needs him to be there by her side, then he will, provided he isn't compromised himself. And we do have examples and instances and a general vibe of them being able to have very difficult conversations with each other and being able to argue fairly and come to a settlement.

However, as I alluded to, these are able to happen when he isn't compromised himself. When they can both come at it as pillars of strength, as robust in their own opinion, when it's fire meeting fire, if you like. The biggest example of that is, as you say, 1x07, and alongside 2x03, they both end with Corlys letting go of Rhaenys's hand when she wants him to stay. It's easy to say that both are also conversations concerning succession, but I think it's more to do with mortality, legacy and, something else important to me, Corlys's emotional vulnerabilities. In both cases, he's wounded emotionally. In 1x07, Rhaenys artfully and bluntly deconstructs his heroic notions and his illusions about the boys and his motivations. In 2x03, the circumstances are far less dramatic but he's facing mounting pressure to step up but also to move on: pick a new heir, come to the council meetings, the Queen needs you etc etc. For all he professes not to be an invalid, I think there's a lot to be said by the fact that he feels he needs to point that out. But he's not processed everything, he's still grieving, he can't shut it away, he doesn't want to consider these things.

But both those episode conversation end in Corlys being shaken. Of him not having the answer, not wanting the answer, not wanting to hurt his wife. "History does not remember blood, it remembers names" and "Then we must hope to…see our way forward, in time. [...] Then… it is well that I am a good sailor" are, I'm sorry to say, absolutely flipping insubstantial things to say. They don't MEAN anything except 'I don't want to talk about it, here is a sticking plaster" because he doesn't know what to do! Does he truly believe blood doesn't matter? Or does he hope and pray that it's true because that's the path they are on? Does he truly think his skills will let him survive this war? Or that they'll have the rational discussion about it all later? Or is he just trying to make her smile and not worry for a second because that's all he can offer her?

He's doing what he can. And he's self-aware. The last thing he wants to do his hurt his wife. It's like he has a physical reaction to her pain. He hates it. And it hurts him when he can't ease it, especially if that's linked up to his own failings or simply he's just not feeling able to. Steve said in press for S1 that Corlys doesn't forget about Rhaenys being passed over and that it looked like he cares more than she does. That can be applied to all of this. He cares that she's hurt. He FEELS her hurt.

To me, two things make him unstuck: one is when his wife is hurting, and the other is when he doesn't know what to do. And when those two combine, so that his wife is hurting and he doesn't know what to do (usually specifically to address that hurt), then it's lethal.

At the moment, he does do so much. He is happy to see her, he spends time with her, he's holding her, loving her, listening to her, they're having sex, they're comforting one another, they're connecting. But what she is asking, however indirectly, from him... He can't do. Because those conversations are going to hurt him and he can't take that pain on. He can't risk failing. He can't risk hurting her. He wants to have those talks. He knows he'll have to. But just a bit longer... if Rhaenys holds on a little longer then he'll be that man again.

I also think that seeing Rhaenys being vulnerable scares him and shocks him. As it is two ways: she's his rock. He's not just hers. So if she's feeling the loss of him... He's also feeling the loss of her. The vulnerability is mirrored.

Which is tragic because YOU GUYS ARE LITERALLY HAVING A LUNCH DATE WITH MUCH PDA.

Anyways, this probably went in circles or I've just regurgitated a lot of ideas from this morning.

[yourlocalstranger123]

Genshin SAGAU x Reader. Part 2

You know, when people degrade themselves, saying horrible things about themselves.

So you made a rule that when you hear EVEN ONE thing that degrades themselves, they will be punished personally by you.

It involves lipstick💄 so if you don't like wearing lipstick and being a ✨️bAdDiE✨️ then this ain't for you.

Characters: Xiao, Scaramouche

Xiao

You were trying to find Xiao, you also made some tofu for him. You were about to call him until you heard him. You heard him saying not good things about himself and you publicly said about the rule so you sneaked up on him and hugged him. He was surprised, panicking that you saw him vulnerable, and weak. He tried to get away but your inhuman strength was no match.

"Xiao, remember the rule I made?"

"I'm sorry your grace, I didn't mean to! I'll gladly accept any punishment you give me."

He looked at you, wondering what you were getting out of your pocket. A lipstick? Why? (Oh, He was about to know.) You were putting on the lipstick, (idc if you are a dude, YOU WILL.) And looked at him smugly. You grabbed him and kissed him all over his face, he was a blushing mess! Poor xiao, he's still processing. If you kiss him anymore, he might just be redder than your lipstick and ascend to the celestials.

"Xiao, the lipstick is gonna be hard to get off. This is the punishment. Now everyone can see how much I love you! Also, here's some tofu for you."

He was covering his face with his mask and grabbed the tofu, disappearing into particles. He didn't want to admit he enjoyed it. But the only problem was that Ganyu or Zhongli was asking why was there a smudge of pink, reddish on his face. He was blushing and tried to change the topic.

*bonus*

If you tease him more about it, he will be a blushing mess but silently saying that he didn't mind it, he thought you didn't hear him but oh, you heard everything loud and clear. You will so gonna tease him about that later.

Scaramouche

You were in your bedroom, reading. You were halfway through finishing the book when you heard a crashing sound. You thought it was just one of the vases that fell off of the table, but you were too tired and just put down the book and went to sleep. You felt a presence next to you, you opened your eyes to see Scaramouche holding you tight, crying. He kept repeating the same words, 'Don't leave me, I'll be better, please! Don't abandon me again!' You woke him up and comforted him. He was saying shitty things about himself again. As much as you wanted to just stay silent and let him bathe in your warmth, you had to remind him.

"Must I remind you about the rule? I must punish you now."

He began to hold you tighter.

"Idc how bad is the punishment, so please don't leave me!" He cried harder. Silently begging you to not let go, when you got up and went to your closet.

You got your lipstick and quickly put it on, you grabbed both of his wrists and kissed all over his face.....as the same thing as Xiao, but worse. He is malfunctioning, saying random muffled words that you don't understand but didn't give a damn. If you tease him a bit more, he will scoot away and begin pointing fingers at you. His ego and pride won't let him admit, he wanted you to do more and maybe slyly scoot closer for you to kiss him even more. Well the next day, he didn't even try washing it off. No one would dare ask him about it unless they want to suffer the wrath.

*bonus*

If you were gonna tease him about it, he will just change the topic or say that you are shameless!

(Sir, you are the one who didn't even try to wash it off properly)

~

Part 1

Next part will be albedo, diluc. If you want, you can ask me to do other people.