cw: dubcon, manipulative dynamics, reader is mentally ill, reader is in a foggy/dazed state, soft coercion, gaslighting, medication tampering (implication of non-consensual drug use), emotional dependency, psychological control, power imbalance, praise kink (“good girl”), possessiveness, nonverbal hesitation, consent confusion, somno-adjacent behavior (not explicitly asleep but mentally checked out), fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, aftercare with ulterior motives
you wake up drenched, sheets clinging to your hips — twisted, damp, uncomfortably warm. sweat cools slow at the nape of your neck, sticky and thick, mixing with the haze of dreams you can’t quite hold onto. everything aches — like your body’s been moving without you, like your mind got left behind. your head feels foggy. heavy. like it’s been held underwater too long.
you try to move but the stiffness in your muscles reminds you how little sleep you really got.
this isn’t new. the nights have been like this lately — hazy, broken, your thoughts slipping away just as you reach for them. you never know if you took your meds before bed, or if you just forgot entirely. sometimes it’s hard to keep track of the days, the hours, yourself.
albedo has been there, always hovering somewhere near the edges of your fractured mornings. not just a friend, not quite something else, but something you don’t fully understand — someone who knows the parts of you that you try to hide even from yourself.
he’s not what you’d call gentle — more like pressure that never lets up. but he’s always there. steady hands, steady voice, steady ruin.
this morning is no different.
“morning” he says, his voice low, almost soft, but there’s an edge beneath it — a quiet warning hidden behind the tenderness.
his eyes catch the empty pill bottle on the bedside table without needing to ask, a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips.
he slides onto the bed beside you, his fingers threading through your damp hair, tugging your face toward him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. his breath is warm on your skin, and his gaze burns with an intensity that makes your chest tighten.
“you’re restless again” he murmurs, voice smooth like silk. “you don’t have to fight it. i’ll keep you steady.”
his hand slides down your ribs, settling possessively on your hip. you want to pull away—but your body won’t let you.
you don’t want to.
the haze clouds your mind — confusion folding into something darker, something sharper and far more dangerous.
he leans down, lips brushing the sensitive skin beneath your ear, whispering, “i’m the only one who knows what you need.”
his fingers tighten slightly, claiming you like a secret.
you taste the salt of your own fear, mingled with something electric that leaves you trembling.
because you don’t remember the last time you said no.
his hand slips beneath the waistband of your clothes, fingers ghosting over the heated skin beneath. your breath catches — shallow, quick — your body responding before your mind can catch up, every nerve alive despite the fog clouding your thoughts. the pill bottle lies forgotten now — empty, just like everything else he’s taken from you.
he leans down, lips trailing along your jaw, a whisper against your skin. “you don’t have to hide from me.”
your body trembles, the haze swirling around your thoughts as his fingers press lower, tracing the delicate curve of your hip, sliding beneath the fabric. your breath hitches, a knot of want and hesitation tightening in your stomach.
you try to pull away, the last flickers of resistance burning like flames. but his touch is steady, insistent.
before you can find the words, his fingers part you gently, exploring with slow, deliberate pressure.
his fingers don’t stop. one slips inside you, slow and probing, and despite the fog curling in your brain, your body tightens around him — a reflex you don’t control. you try to pull away, a soft whimper escaping your lips. “albedo… please…”
his fingers don’t stop.
one pushes deeper, slow and careful, dragging along your walls in a way that makes your thighs twitch and your breath stutter. the resistance in your voice melts into something breathy, pleading — but not for him to stop.
“albedo… i don’t…” you try again, weak, words tangled in your throat.
he kisses the corner of your mouth, hand still working between your legs, fingers moving in a rhythm that makes it impossible to think straight. “you’re doing so well” he whispers. “your body always knows what it needs, even if your mind tries to resist it.”
he curls his fingers just right and your hips jerk before you can stop yourself. shame floods your chest.
“you don’t have to be scared” he murmurs, voice sweet and cruel all at once. “i’ll be gentle. i always am, aren’t i?”
you barely have the strength to nod.
the moment you do, he withdraws his hand — wet with you, glistening in the low light — and licks his fingers clean like he’s tasting something he made himself. like he’s savoring it. savoring you.
you blink up at him, dazed, and he’s already pushing your legs apart again, slow and reverent.
“good” he murmurs, unbuckling his belt, voice turning velvet. “let me give you more. let me make you feel full.”
you whimper, legs instinctively trying to close, but his hands hold you open with quiet, terrifying patience.
“you can take it” he says, lining himself up, cock brushing hot and heavy against your slick entrance. “you always do.”
before you can form a protest, he pushes in — slow, steady, relentless.
you gasp — he’s thick, stretching you open inch by inch, your walls fluttering helplessly around him. your body betrays you, slick and ready in ways your mind hasn’t caught up with.
albedo moans softly at the feeling, burying himself deeper. “so tight” he breathes, like it’s a gift. “so perfect like this… molded to me.”
he bottoms out with a final roll of his hips, stealing the air from your lungs. you shake beneath him, too full, too sensitive, too overwhelmed to move.
his lips brush your temple. “that’s it. just like that. don’t fight it.”
and you don’t.
you can’t.
you press your palms weakly against his chest, barely a push, the last thread of protest in your body.
“albedo, stop…” you breathe, voice strained, watery, caught somewhere between fear and guilt. “this isn’t… it doesn’t feel right.”
he freezes for just a heartbeat. his expression barely shifts, but something flickers in his eyes — not guilt. not remorse.
control.
his hands slide to your waist, stroking softly, grounding you as he stays buried deep inside. he leans in close, forehead pressing to yours like a lover, lips ghosting over your skin with a tenderness that twists your chest into aching knots.
“you’re confused” he whispers, soothing, like he’s rocking you through a nightmare. “it’s just the meds, the exhaustion… you always get like this when you forget how much you need me.”
you shake your head, barely. “but i didn’t — i didn’t say yes—”
he hushes you, thumb brushing your cheek. “you didn’t say no, either. and your body… sweetheart, look at how you’re clinging to me.”
shame blooms hot and heavy in your chest. your walls flutter around him with every tiny shift, holding him in like you don’t want to let go. your thighs tremble, slick and open. even now, even through the panic, part of you aches for more.
he smiles — a soft, cruel curl of lips.
“there you are” he breathes, rocking his hips once, gentle but firm, and you gasp, back arching as he grinds against that sweet spot inside you. “you’re okay. i’m here. i’m the only one who’s ever taken care of you like this, remember?”
“good girl” he murmurs low, lips brushing your skin, voice thick with something possessive and proud. “you’re doing so well for me.”
you want to argue, scream, claw your way out — but his hands are warm, his voice soft, and your mind is a fogged-up mirror where your own thoughts can’t find their reflection.
“you don’t have to think anymore” he murmurs, lips brushing your neck. “i’ll do that for you.”
he starts moving again — slow and deep — like he’s sinking his name into you, like he’s making sure you never forget who you belong to.
and all you can do is cry his name.
his pace never falters. he fucks you like it’s a ritual, like every thrust rewires something inside you, slow enough to draw out the torment, deep enough to touch where you can’t reach. your nails drag across his back — not in pleasure, not quite in protest — just a helpless twitch, the last echo of whatever will you had left.
your climax hits like a betrayal. it takes you by surprise, your body clenching around him with a broken sob, muscles locking and trembling. he shushes you through it, praises you. tells you how proud he is. how sweet you feel when you give in.
he follows just after, burying himself as deep as he can, groaning low in your ear as he fills you, thick and warm and overwhelming. it’s too much — spilling out of you, seeping into the sheets, into the part of you that still remembers shame.
you don’t remember how long it lasts — how long he holds you down, whispering soft praises between thrusts, how long your body trembles beneath him until the air tastes like salt and heat and nothing else.
when it’s over, your limbs feel like lead. too heavy to move. your eyes sting. your throat is sore from whatever half-formed protests you made before your voice gave out.
he kisses your cheek, your temple, your jaw — treating you like something sacred he just finished breaking.
you’re still full of him when he pulls out, slow and careful, holding your hips still as your body twitches from oversensitivity. his cock slips free with a quiet wet sound, and you flinch.
he hushes you like a lullaby.
“shhh. it’s alright now” albedo murmurs, already reaching for a cloth to wipe between your legs, movements disturbingly gentle. “i know it was a little too much. you always get overwhelmed when you don’t take the right dosage.”
you blink at the ceiling, dazed. “i didn’t forget” you whisper, paper-thin.
he pauses — just a second too long — then smiles. “mm. must’ve mixed the bottles again. it’s okay. that’s why i keep track for you, remember?”
he moves your hair out of your face, fingers slow and careful, like he’s tidying up something he owns. “you’re so good for me. you did so well. you let me help you.”
his words are warm, loving even, but they feel like cotton stuffed in your mouth — suffocating in their softness.
you try to sit up, but your muscles give out. he presses you back down gently.
“don’t strain yourself” he says, adjusting the blanket over your bare skin. “you need rest.”
your hands tremble. “i didn’t want that.”
he stills.
for a moment, the air turns colder. sharper.
then he smiles again — softer this time — like he’s sorry for you, not for what he did.
“i know” he says, brushing his fingers down your cheek. “that’s why i had to do it. you weren’t thinking clearly. i had to help.”
you want to scream.
but you’re so tired.
so fucking tired.
he kisses your forehead like a reward.
and when he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling your half-numb body close, you let him.
because your mind can’t fight.
and your heart’s already forgotten what safety feels like.
“sleep” he murmurs, holding you close. “i’ll be here when you wake up. i always am.”
Downcastmoth just upgraded their icon and background. Different pics of Kafka. They really love Kafka that much, huh?
I only saw this because I saw a notice for this blog. But yea I agree. Its ok to love a character alot. But future reference send mod asks to my main blog.
With the insane amount of lore and his canon obsession over wishing to build the perfect paradise, I can't help but to picture him in the dark romance trope.
Whether or not you're a human or a god are irrelevant to him - he adores you with every fiber of his being and there is no creature in the world which can change his stance.
He has built you enormous palaces, gorgeous gardens and hand crafted the finest jewellery the world has ever seen. He wishes to cloak you in his secure embrace but he is consumed by non stop worry.
Those same palaces quickly turn into prisons, meant to keep you at bay and most importantly, safe. Taken cared for. Nothing brings him greater pleasure than to dote on you.
I love that the modern-day tumblr post equivalent of chain emails only requires me to reblog a relatively pleasant image instead of forward an email to a bunch of my friends and family members to quell my raging anxiety.
fucking hell the way Xavier loves it missionary was enough to make your toes curl. he's always been the type to fuck you slow and deep, cock grinding up your gummy walls, tip prodding your cervix while his balls kisses your cunt, filling up the room in the most obscene sound possible. the first few rounds he still had rhythm, hugging you so close to keep you from inching away as he fucks load after load in you. oh how he loves seeing your fucked out state, how your eyes can barely stay open, jaw slacked from sheer overstimulation. he loves to pull back, spreading your cunt wide open to admire his seed deliciously spilling out, using his cock to gather it by the tip and plugging it back in.
"X-xavier, s'toomuch–" you choke back another moan, legs shaking because you're just so fucking full.
"baby please, please, i know you can take more, please" he cups your face and peppers your cheeks with kisses. fuck how can you deny him when he's starting to beg like that? you helplessly nod, cunt still twitching around his cock who refuses to be soft. he thanks you in whispers before flipping you on your tummy, spreading your ass as he starts fucking you prone bone. the lewd squench of his dick inching in had you moaning face flat in his pillows.
"take it baby, please—fuck—more, yeah?" you clenched his sheets the way his hands clenched your ass, eyes rolling back when you felt him hit the spot that would make you squirt all over him. you were always shy of making a mess, meekly flailing your arm to tap out before it crashes all over his sheets.
"n-no—ngh—if you keep hitting that—"
"fuck you're so wet baby please let me keep going your pussy's too good" he's babbling his words, hips so focused to hit the same sensitive spot over and over again. you can only moan in return, nails digging into his sheets, cunt so dripping wet you could feel it in the way it puddled his bed. oh and Xavier loves it. loves the way you make a mess just for him. love the fact that this sight was just for him. so fucked out all for him.
"i-im comin—ngghh" another wave of release washes out of you, legs clenching and shaking to handle another orgasm for the nth time. Xavier leans down, grunting as ropes of his own cum ram into you. you breathe out breathlessly, his sweat-slicked body was pressed up on your back as he whispers in your ear.
"nonono please tell me you're not done yet baby—y'can take more—please baby tell me one more?"
all you remember was seeing stars that night.
hi im back! <3 i'm also on X here don't be shy to also interact and be moots w me there! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡
I feel as though yan! Anaxa would not only act strange around his darling, but that the man would have a full on epiphany when he realizes that he's caught Feelings™
He is absolutely disgusted with himself for falling into such an unfathomable state, but he's still human, he reckons.
Granted, he's the best of the bunch but even so...
Doesn't matter. Now he'll just pester you till the end of time. It's your fault for this and he'll make sure to rub it in your nose as much as he can.
By all means his third form. His tail is more, visible, no? His Imbibitor Lunae form isn't really, visible.
So, sit down and hear me out.
AND NO, I have not continue the Amphoreus quest. This is simply just a brainrot.
Dan Heng just minding his own business, doing his own thing. Feeling comfortable as he continue doing his job, unintentionally lowering his guard down—
And then something just—
Plop!—..
A sudden weight felt on his tail, making him jolt on the spot as he immediately sense a threat at the sudden weight— only to see his lover clinging onto his tail when he turned to see the culprit.
He let out a soft sigh as soon as you came into his vision, "It's you," he softly stated as he then reach out to you to pat your head.
"Why are you hugging my tail?" He asked, quite curious of your choice of suddenly hugging his tail. Instead of him. "No reason, just wanted to hug your tail." Your response made him raise a brow. Staring at you skeptically, as if he doesn't entirely believe there's no reason behind your actions.
"Okay then.." he stared as he sat down now, looking at you who seemed to be happy about how he doesn't seem to be bothered with you clinging onto him, "Is it comfortable?" He suddenly ask as he started to fidget on the spot.
Oh? What's this? Is he Jealous? Of his own damn tail?
Now, that's cute.
"Your tail?" "Yes" "I mean, yeah.. it's quite comfortable." Silence occur as he then stare at you again, his mouth doesn't spat out any more words— but his eyes. His eyes says everything. His tail twitched in your hold, and he, did not say anything. And do you want to know what he did next?
He just casually drag his tail that has you who's clinging onto it towards him, and immediately took you off from his tail and wrap your arms around his neck, his arms then wrapped around your waist as he nuzzle his face at the crook of your neck. He exhaled softly before whispering—
origamiaround
gamechangershow
