ARGHHHHHHH,,,, I'm supposed to be writing the seele!reader x wanderer fic,,,, but i wanna write about sub! draco where the reader denied his orgasm because he was teasing her earlier 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤 chat plsssss
♰⎯⎯ warnings. rough sex, light choking, multiple rounds, unprotected sex, creampie, porn with a little bit of a plot (draco let his frustration out during sex) slight, obsessed! draco, mating press, let me know if i miss anything, MDNI
♰ ⎯⎯ a|n. making my comeback with a draco malfoy fic, I've come back to my draco phase.. rewatching the harry potter films after this, this is written in third person pov. all of them are of age! is it obvious i gave up halfway? Also next fanfic— Seele!reader x wanderer so stay tuned!
the sound of skin to skin slapping filled the empty room of the Malfoy Manor, bed creaking under the pressure of draco’s erratic movements, mind going fuzzy at the sheer pleasure that is running through her whole body, moans spilling out of her mouth without any shame as every thrust sets all of her nerves alight.
draco looms over her in such a menacing way as his hips rolled, pelvis hitting her clit just right earning another whimper from her swollen lips, red and bitten by the harshness of his kisses as he continued to ram into her without any second thought, the noises were fucking obscene.
“d-dray—! too m-much..!” a whiny moan left (name)’s lips as he continued to ram in and out of her desperately, as if wanting to mold her inside to the shape of his length, his grip on her hips were bruisingly tight, that will sure leave a purple mark tomorrow if he ever decides to stop.
he didn't respond, just continued to take what’s his. The tip of his length was hitting her cervix earning a broken, choked moan from her. draco’s grip tightened, adrenaline rushing in their veins.
“m-mhm.. ffuuck—” a guttural moan escaped from his swollen lips as he looked down at the mess that they did, draco grabbed both of her legs and bending them till they're dangling in her ear making him go overwhelmingly deeper.
The new position made her eyes rolled back to the back of her head, toes curling as she felt him more in this position. He was too big, too much for her to take that she was fighting the urge to pull back from the pleasure that is tiring her body out.
a sob came out from her, exhausted and overstimulated from everything, from how balls deep he is inside of her.
“dray— baby.. p-please! s-sho deep—!”
“shh.. you’re gonna be okay.. you can take it, i know you can, you’re my good girl aren’t you? you’re gonna be a good girl f’me and take it right?”
damn him and his filthy words, it was so hard to resist him especially when like this— on a mating press, his cock buried so deep inside of her and how he was taking his frustration while having sex yet sometime gentle with her.
(name) couldn’t do anything but nod weakly earning a pleased groan from him, draco’s large hand were on her neck, not choking, just there to remind her who is making her feel good and to keep him planted in this world without having to remember the pressure of being a death eater.
the pressure of his hand on her neck was enough to made her cum, clenching around him violently as she orgasmed, soaking his cock with her juices as she breathed heavily.
draco let out a small “fuck, just like that” underneath his breath before his pace quickened, his orgasm approaching as the grip he has on her legs tightened as he continued to thrust till his pace got sloppy.
“nngh.. shit— fuck, fuck, fuck! g-gonna cum.. fuck— let me cum inside you, please..? let me creampie you..”
he begged! Draco bloody Lucius Malfoy begged for her— and she couldn't resist him, with the very last strength she have left, she nodded giving him permission.
draco didn’t need anymore permission, one more hard thrust and he’s spilling inside of her, painting her insides white as the two of them panted, tangled in each other’s arm with cum dripping down their thighs yet neither of them could careless as draco looked at her, rubbing his thumb on her cheek before planting a kiss.
“thank you..”
he murmured, she smiled. yet he wasn’t just thanking her for giving him permission to cum inside, he was also thanking her for staying, for letting him make love to her, for understanding and most of all, for loving him. no matter how broken he is.
“one more round?”
he asked teasingly, rubbing her back as she huffed, annoyed before slapping his arm
cw: dead dove do not eat — stalking, kidnapping, dubcon/noncon, somnophilia, stockholm syndrome, emotional manipulation, yandere obsession, psychological horror, identity erasure, psychological abuse, self-harm (cutting), forced cohabitation, coerced dependency, trauma bonding, obsessive behavior, derealization, intense psychological distress, confinement/isolation, possessive behavior, toxic relationship dynamics, coercion, and generally fucked up shit guys — proceed with caution.
a/n: i got this idea for an identity obsession au — where you look exactly like scara’s past lover but you’re not them, just a really unfortunate doppelgänger — and honestly, i couldn’t stop thinking about it. so here we are. ururhhhhhghhh.
PLEASE NOTE: i do not condone any of this behavior in real life. this is strictly fiction — don’t cancel me pls, i still wanna go to college. 🙏
…also not proofread. i aint reading allat. 💯
you moved through your days with an effortless grace — a quiet kind of happiness that wasn’t loud or flashy, but soft and steady — like sunlight filtering through delicate curtains. your laughter came easy, your smile genuine, untouched by shadows. you loved the simple things: the smell of fresh pages in a bookstore, the warmth of tea on a rainy afternoon, the gentle hum of city life outside your window.
people said you were gentle, kind — the kind of person who made others feel safe just by being near. you didn’t carry any heavy weight from the past, nothing hidden beneath your calm. life was simple and easy for you.
then one afternoon, everything changed.
he saw you.
across a crowded square, scaramouche’s eyes locked on you, and for the first time in years, he stopped — caught by a sudden recognition that shook him inside.
you weren’t his.
but you were everything he’d lost.
time felt like it slowed as he stared, the busy world around him fading.
for a moment, he was still — frozen by longing and pain.
to scaramouche, seeing you was like stepping into a dream he never dared to want — and yet, he never wanted to leave.
years ago, there was someone. someone who had been everything: his lover, his solace, the only light he’d ever let in. she was warmth in a world that had only ever taught him cold. but she was gone — taken not by fate, but by his own hands. it hadn’t been planned. it hadn’t been clean. just a blur of anger, fear, and power he couldn’t control.
he told himself it was an accident. a mistake. but the truth festered in his mind like rot — he had killed her. and that loss never healed. it carved out a hollow place inside him that nothing ever filled, a gaping wound he carried beneath his skin, bleeding guilt and grief with every breath.
and now, here you were.
you weren’t her. you didn’t carry her memories or scars. you had no past with him.
but you looked like her. the same curve of your jaw. the same way your hair caught the light. the same soft look in your eyes.
in that moment, scaramouche’s world tilted — fate showing him a ghost alive and untouched.
his heart raced with a desperate ache, mixed with obsession.
he froze, not because you were you, but because you weren’t.
you were everything he’d lost — everything he wanted back.
✦ —
days passed. weeks.
you went about your life, unaware of the cold eyes watching your every move.
scaramouche stayed back, a shadow blending in — silent, patient, calculating.
he watched you laugh with friends at a café, the light catching your smile and stabbing at his chest.
he saw you pause by a bookstore window, fingers tracing a book’s spine — innocent and unaware.
you lived in a world so different from his — one where hope still lingered, where the shadows hadn’t touched you yet. you moved through life unaware of the darkness crouching just beyond the edge, untouched by the things that haunted him.
but somehow, every time you looked over your shoulder — every fleeting glance, every moment your eyes searched for something — it pulled at him, like a thread winding tighter around his heart. because even if you didn’t see the dark yet, he knew it was coming. and he didn’t know if he wanted to shield you from it — or pull you into it with him.
he learned every little thing — how you tilted your head, how your hair fell, the sound of your voice.
each detail both comfort and pain.
because you weren’t her.
and yet somehow, you became the center of his broken world.
at night, scaramouche sat alone in his dim room, trembling fingers tracing your face in his mind.
his obsession grew like a sickness — relentless and all-consuming.
but the truth was simple and harsh: he needed you.
not because you were her.
because you were a chance.
a chance to fix a past he never could.
✦ —
it started small.
a strange feeling at the back of your neck — like someone was watching you.
something you could brush off easily. just your imagination. you were tired. it’d been a long week.
but then it happened again.
a flicker in your peripheral vision. a shadow that shouldn’t be there. footsteps behind you when you walked home, vanishing the second you looked back.
and that cold shiver running down your spine every time.
at first you laughed it off with friends. joked maybe you had a secret admirer. maybe you were paranoid. maybe you needed to sleep more.
but then the little things started.
your favorite flowers left on your doorstep — no note, no explanation.
a book you mentioned showing up in your mailbox, perfectly wrapped.
your apartment window cracked open when you swore you’d locked it.
no signs of a break-in. nothing stolen. just… things moved. shifted. adjusted.
like someone had been there.
like someone wanted you to know they were watching.
you stopped sleeping well.
started double-checking locks. closing curtains early. glancing over your shoulder too often on empty streets.
you never saw anyone.
but you felt it.
watched.
wanted.
followed.
and somewhere close, scaramouche waited — silent, patient, a faint smile curling his lips.
he knew he was scaring you.
but you hadn’t run.
not yet.
you were still within reach.
he could feel it.
and soon… you would understand.
you were always meant to be his.
✦ —
you didn’t mean to start crying at work.
but there’s something about the way your coworker says, “you look tired” — too gently, too kind — like they see something unraveling in you, something you’ve been holding together with fraying threads. and that’s all it takes.
tears come sharp and sudden, and you have to excuse yourself, muttering something about allergies or a migraine.
you sit in the breakroom, breathing shallow, hands shaking around your phone.
you don’t know how to explain any of this.
the strange gifts.
the subtle shifts in your home.
the cold metallic scent on your sheets some nights.
you just don’t know what to say.
and then your phone buzzes. the sudden noise slices through the silence—sharp, intrusive. your chest tightens, heart pounding as you stare at the screen, fingers trembling just above it.
you look down. the screen lights up with a message from an unknown number.
did you sleep better last night?
i made sure it was safe.
your heart stops.
your breath catches in your throat. you reread the message five times before you can even blink. the screen stays steady in your hand, glowing too bright. the room feels too quiet.
you don’t respond. you don’t know how.
seconds later, another text comes through.
you looked so peaceful.
that’s when it hits you — he’s seen you sleep.
you stand up too fast, the chair scraping against the floor. you feel like your body isn’t your own — skin crawling, vision swimming.
you leave work early.
you didn’t say much — just mumble something about a headache, force a small smile, and grab your things with shaking hands. no one questions it. they never do.
outside, the air feels too sharp against your skin. every shadow stretches wrong. every passing face feels like it’s looking too long.
you keep your head down.
you don’t look back.
you don’t run — but you want to.
you take a different route. you stop and buy pepper spray, even though your hands shake so badly you drop your card twice. the cashier gives you a look — maybe pity, maybe concern — but doesn’t say anything.
you don’t go home right away. you sit in a quiet café near the edge of the city, tucked into the corner with your back to the wall, eyes on the door. you stare out the window like it’ll tell you something, like it might ground you.
you tell yourself you’ll call someone. maybe the police. maybe a friend. someone who can help. someone who can do something.
but you don’t.
not because you don’t want to — but because you can’t think straight. your thoughts chase each other in circles, spiraling faster and faster until nothing makes sense. your fear is a vice, wrapped so tight around your chest it feels like you might break apart.
eventually, you stand. your legs are stiff. your coffee’s gone cold. and despite everything in you screaming not to — you go home.
your apartment is quiet when you finally return. too quiet — the kind of silence that presses in on you, heavy and unnatural. every creak of the floorboards sounds sharper, every breath louder than it should be.
you lock the door behind you, the click of the deadbolt echoing through the stillness. your hands tremble as you double-check the windows, sliding the latches back and forth until you’re certain they’re secure. you don’t stop there — you peer into your closet, eyes scanning the shadows between hanging clothes. beneath your bed, you crouch low, fingers grazing the dusty floor. nothing.
relief should come. but it doesn’t.
because when you finally step into your bedroom, everything changes.
there, resting on your pillow, lies a single violet flower.
it’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen before — petals so soft they seem almost translucent, edges perfectly curled like it was crafted by careful, deliberate hands. it doesn’t belong to any bouquet you’ve ever bought or received. no store, no garden you know could grow something so delicate and precise.
you don’t reach out to touch it. your fingers stay curled tight at your sides, your breath caught in your throat. instead, you just stare, heart hammering loud enough to drown out the silence.
slowly, you take a step back. then another. your back hits the wall and you slide down until you’re sitting on the floor beside your bed, knees pulled tight to your chest. your arms wrap around yourself, a feeble shield against the cold dread crawling up your spine.
your heart races — erratic, wild, pounding with a fear you can’t name.
you don’t know who he is. you don’t know what he wants. you don’t even know why he chose you — why you, of all people, ended up the focus of this unseen gaze.
your mind spins, grasping for answers that won’t come.
you keep telling yourself it’s nothing. just paranoia, your imagination running wild. a coincidence — some stranger’s careless gesture, meaningless and accidental.
but deep down, you can’t deny the truth that clings to the edges of your thoughts: you’re scared.
and somewhere out there, someone is watching.
✦ —
he watches you from the shadows — breath held, heart hammering like he’s afraid you’ll disappear before he can touch you again.
to him, you’re more than a stranger.
you’re a ghost — the flicker of the only person he ever loved and lost.
your face, your scent, your laugh — they’re fragments of memories twisted tight into obsession, tangled with grief and longing.
he’s followed you for weeks, tracing your steps like a shadow that never blinks. he knows when you leave for work, where you stop for coffee, what you order without looking.
he leaves quiet marks of his presence — a violet petal slipped under your door, a folded note with a word only you’d recognize, small, carefully chosen gifts left just where you’ll find them.
to you, they feel like threats — cold reminders that you’re never truly alone.
to him, they’re love letters — fragile, desperate attempts to reach a ghost he can never let go.
✦ —
it’s been a while since the messages started — long enough that you jump at every noise, flinch when your phone vibrates.
the texts keep coming.
did you sleep better last night?
you looked so peaceful.
you don’t have to be afraid.
you want to block the number, but part of you is trapped — terrified and drawn in all at once.
because someone’s watching.
and you don’t know why.
and you don’t know if you’ll ever be safe again.
you don’t tell anyone what’s happening.
what would you even say?
that the feeling of being watched is so thick it clings to your skin? that your apartment creaks differently now? that every time you blink, you expect someone to be there when you open your eyes?
you’d sound crazy. paranoid. dramatic.
so you go about your days like nothing’s wrong.
you wake up. brush your hair. press your lips into a smile in the mirror even when your hands won’t stop trembling.
you leave the lights on when you sleep now. you keep the bathroom door shut tight, even when it’s empty. you check your locks twice — three times — every night before bed.
you still hear footsteps sometimes.
and the gifts haven’t stopped.
a porcelain ribbon hairclip you’ve never seen before, placed neatly on your pillow.
a scarf, soft and expensive, folded carefully over your desk chair.
flowers — rare ones — in a vase that isn’t yours.
but nothing ever has a name. no note. no evidence.
just the silence. just the feeling of eyes that never leave.
you go to work.
you smile.
you pretend it’s all okay.
and when you find a letter on your kitchen table — handwritten, with a name that doesn’t belong to you curled beautifully on the front — you open it with trembling hands and silent tears.
you’re doing so well.
i’m proud of you.
you always were elegant like this — quiet, perfect, mine.
you stare at the words for a long time.
then, you tuck the note back inside and put it in your drawer.
next to the others.
✦ —
it’s been months.
the stalking never stopped.
you just… adjusted.
the fear didn’t disappear. it twisted, settled deep beneath your skin like a second, cold layer you can’t shed — invisible but always there.
you don’t remember what it feels like to walk home without glancing over your shoulder. can’t recall the last time you left a room without checking every corner twice.
your locks are all upgraded now. curtains drawn tight, never letting the outside world peek in. your phone’s location settings switched off, a strip of tape hiding your webcam’s eyes.
but none of it really matters.
because you know he’s still there.
the gifts don’t stop. the notes don’t stop. the texts come too — from different numbers, all sweet, all signed with the same name you don’t recognize but have learned to dread.
sometimes he tells you what you wore that day.
sometimes he repeats what you said to your coworkers.
sometimes he compliments how you did your hair that morning.
you never respond.
but you don’t block the numbers anymore.
you’ve learned he always finds another way.
he never hurts you. never touches you. not directly.
but you feel him everywhere — tangled in your sheets, lurking in your dreams, hiding in the silence between your breaths when your chest tightens for no reason.
it’s broken you, a little.
your friends say you’re quieter now. say you space out more, flinch too easily.
you just smile and say you’ve been tired.
and you are. exhausted.
being terrified all the time wears you down in a way no one else can see. it makes your bones heavy, your heartbeat deafening. and the worst part? the world keeps turning. the sun still rises. people still laugh and love, falling asleep without checking their closets.
but you —
you haven’t known peace in months.
you used to hope the silence meant he was gone. that he grew bored. moved on.
but you know better now.
when he’s quiet, it means he’s watching more closely.
waiting.
for something.
and you don’t know what.
✦ —
you went to work like any other day, trying to keep things normal — even though nothing about your life felt normal anymore. your smile felt paper-thin, your greetings automatic, your footsteps carefully measured like each one might shatter you.
but you made an effort. you got up early, took a shower, even packed a lunch. it was the first real thing you’d eaten in days. nothing special — just a simple sandwich, some cut fruit you rinsed and tucked into a little container, something to ground you. something that felt… normal.
you ate alone in the break room. quiet. slow. the taste didn’t matter, but the act did — it was something to hold onto, a tiny victory over the fear that lived in your ribs.
but not long after, something felt off.
the hours crawled by with a strange heaviness clinging to them. the fluorescent lights buzzed louder than usual. your hands trembled slightly when you typed, your vision dipping in and out of focus like your eyes were underwater.
by the time your shift ended, the dizziness had bloomed into something worse — your head swam with every step, your stomach churned with nausea. your limbs felt heavy, your thoughts slow.
still, you made your way home, stumbling slightly on the sidewalk, breath catching in your throat. the city lights blurred around the edges, the noise of traffic distant, muffled, like you were moving through a tunnel.
your key slipped once, twice, before it found the lock.
you stepped inside and dropped your bag to the floor, barely managing to shove the door closed behind you.
you didn’t bother turning on the lights.
your skin was clammy, your shirt stuck to your back, but the effort to change felt impossible.
you stumbled to your room. collapsed.
the cold sheets pressed against your flushed skin, anchoring you briefly before the weight in your limbs pulled you under.
you didn’t fight it.
you couldn’t.
your breathing slowed. your muscles went slack.
your mind tried to scream — something’s wrong, this isn’t just exhaustion, this isn’t normal — but the words dissolved before they could reach your lips.
your eyelids were too heavy.
your body wasn’t yours anymore.
you passed out in seconds.
you didn’t see the second shadow that moved across your hallway once you stopped stirring.
you didn’t feel the hand that brushed a loose strand of hair from your cheek.
you didn’t hear the whisper.
“sleep well.”
✦ —
you wake up to the soft sound of something humming.
not a song — not quite — but a low, steady vibration in the air. mechanical. distant. a vent, maybe. a fan. it’s quiet but constant, and it’s the first thing your mind latches onto when consciousness starts to claw its way back in.
your body feels wrong. too heavy and too light all at once. like your bones don’t quite belong to you. like you’ve been asleep for too long. sedated.
your fingers twitch against the fabric beneath you — sheets — but not yours.
you know it instantly. not from texture, but from absence.
no faint scent of your laundry detergent. no familiar crease from where you always curl up. these sheets are too crisp. too clean. they don’t feel lived-in. they don’t feel like safety.
your heart picks up before your eyes even open.
when they finally do, the room that greets you is dim, washed in a sterile gray. four walls. no windows. a single lamp glows in the far corner, casting a sickly yellow circle that doesn’t reach the bed.
your breath catches.
this isn’t your apartment.
you sit up too fast, panic overtaking reason — and the dizziness slams back into you like a wave. your limbs respond slow, uncoordinated, underwater.
and then you see him.
a silhouette in the corner, seated just beyond the lamplight.
still. poised. too composed. his posture is straight, elegant — not stiff, but practiced. his hands rest loosely on his lap, unmoving. head tilted ever so slightly, like he’s been watching you sleep for hours.
like he’s been waiting.
your mouth goes dry.
you try to speak. nothing comes.
your heart is pounding so loud you can hear it in your ears.
he moves — just a little. enough for the light to skim the edge of his face.
porcelain skin. impossibly long lashes. and then his eyes —
indigo. pale. bright. too bright for the dark.
he looks calm.
worse than calm — content.
“you’re safe” he says softly. his voice is smooth, low, warm in the way heat feels when it’s just a little too close. “you needed rest.”
you flinch at the sound.
your voice comes out hoarse. broken. “wh—where am i?”
you already know you won’t like the answer.
his gaze softens — and that, more than anything, makes your stomach drop.
“home” he says. “with me.”
your chest tightens.
the room tilts. but it’s not the drugs this time. it’s the realization.
him.
it’s him.
the one who’s unraveled your life piece by piece.
the one who turned your home into a cage.
the one who made fear your shadow, your second skin.
you’d felt him in the silence. in the shadows.
and now—
he’s here.
he’s real.
he takes a step forward.
you don’t move.
his voice cuts through the hush like it belongs here — like it was always meant to fill the cracks in your world.
“you kept everything” he says softly, as if he’s sharing a secret. “the notes. the flowers. even the hair clip.”
his eyes flicker across your face, drinking you in.
“i was right. you remembered more than you think.”
you don’t answer. your throat is locked tight, your body frozen. fear roots you in place.
“you never threw them away” he continues, almost tender. “even when you were scared. even when you hated me.”
he steps closer.
you flinch.
“that’s how i knew” he says, quieter now. “that deep down, part of you still knew who i was.”
his eyes shine under the lamplight — not with malice, not even cruelty.
with devotion.
something worse.
something terrifying.
“i waited” he murmurs. “i waited so long. followed so carefully. never touched. never pushed too hard. i was patient.”
he kneels again, just like before. not touching, not quite — but close enough to feel his presence crawling across your skin like static.
“and you were so good, all that time” he whispers. “so beautiful. so perfect. even in your fear.”
his hand hovers over the edge of the bed. he doesn’t move it closer. just lets it linger — an invitation or a threat, you can’t tell.
your mouth opens — dry, desperate, trembling.
“i don’t know you” you whisper, voice shaking like it’s barely holding together. “i’m not who you think i am.”
the words taste like metal in your mouth — cold and bitter and sharp with fear.
your throat tightens the second they leave you. not just from panic, but from the look he gives you in return.
he doesn’t blink.
he just… looks at you. like you’ve said something impossible. like you’ve betrayed him somehow.
his face doesn’t twist in anger. there’s no rage, no yelling, no storm behind his eyes.
just a silence that’s louder than anything else.
his head tilts, slightly. that same calm tilt, the one that makes your stomach churn. like he’s studying you. like you’re a puzzle he’s already solved, and he’s just waiting for you to catch up.
“you don’t mean that” he says softly.
you flinch.
“you’re scared. i understand” he continues, in that same quiet voice that makes your skin crawl. “you always are, at first.”
you shake your head, backing up instinctively even though there’s nowhere to go. your spine hits the headboard. your fingers claw at the sheets.
“i’m not who you think i am” you say again, louder this time, but still breathless. still crumbling. “i don’t remember anything. i don’t know you—i never have—”
his lips twitch. not into a smile, but something smaller. sadder. something that pretends to be understanding, but behind it is something else entirely. something wrong.
“not yet” he murmurs.
you go still.
his hand, still resting on the edge of the bed, flexes slightly. like he wants to touch you — like it’s hard not to.
“you always say that” he says, almost to himself. “every time. you look at me like a stranger. like i’m the one who’s lost. but that’s only because you don’t see yet.”
you want to scream. not out of anger, but out of sheer desperation. out of the unbearable wrongness of hearing a stranger speak to you like he knows every inch of you. like you’re the one forgetting something real.
“you’ve been following me” you whisper, your breath catching on a sob. “you broke into my life—you ruined it—i’ve been terrified for months—and you’re telling me it’s love?”
his gaze stays steady. gentle. unshaken.
“it is.”
you feel something inside you splinter.
because he means it.
he believes it. every word. every breath. every delusion.
and that’s what terrifies you most.
not that he’s mad.
but that he’s calm. convinced. utterly devoted.
like he’s already rewritten the story in his head — cast you as his deceased lover, the missing half, the soul that slipped through his fingers once and won’t escape him again.
he looks at you the way someone might look at a prayer they’ve spent lifetimes repeating. reverent. fragile. terrifying.
you were never given the choice.
and that’s the part that sticks in your throat like glass —
that no matter what you say, no matter how many times you tell him i don’t know you,
he’ll keep hearing not yet.
he’s not angry.
he doesn’t need to be.
because in his mind, you’ll remember.
in his mind, you’ll come back.
and in his mind, this isn’t a kidnapping —
it’s a reunion.
one you never asked for.
one you were never allowed to refuse.
✦ —
it’s been days since you woke up in this strange place.
or maybe it’s been weeks. you can’t tell anymore. the concept of time feels like a joke — a distant memory of something you once understood.
the ceiling above you is a dull, oppressive gray, unchanging, and the light never shifts beyond a muted yellow glow that seeps into every corner like a disease.
there are no windows here. no clocks. no way to mark the passage of hours except the rhythm of his presence — the subtle scrape of his footsteps, the click of a door closing, the soft clatter when he sets something down nearby.
at first, you couldn’t speak.
terror had locked your tongue in place, had frozen your limbs, had pinned your mind into a panic so deep you didn’t know how to breathe.
you spent hours, maybe days, lying perfectly still, eyes wide open, too afraid to close them lest you lose yourself completely.
he was always there — watching.
never harsh. never violent. never cruel in an obvious way.
but the silence between you screamed louder than any threat.
your heart hammered so loudly you thought he’d hear it.
and maybe he did.
then, one day, something shifted.
you’re not sure exactly when.
maybe it was the gnawing hunger. the ache in your stomach that was sharper than any fear.
maybe it was the crushing loneliness that wrapped around your ribcage like ice.
maybe it was the sickening realization that this place — this cage — was your new reality, and resisting meant nothing.
because he was the only constant here.
and you needed that.
scaramouche moves around you with an eerie grace.
his footsteps are quiet, deliberate — never rushed, never clumsy.
he inhabits the space like it’s his domain, like he’s carved it out just for you — and him.
there’s something unnerving about the way he carries himself.
his posture is perfect, unyielding — like a statue come to life.
and his face…
too beautiful to be real.
too flawless.
he doesn’t look at you with hatred or anger.
he watches you with something colder, sharper.
devotion.
one morning, his voice breaks the silence, low and smooth, like a lullaby you don’t trust.
“you’re doing so well.”
the words feel strange — like a cruel joke whispered in the dark.
doing well? what does that even mean?
he kneels beside your bed, careful not to invade your space, but close enough that you can see the shadows under his lashes and the faint rise and fall of his chest.
in his hands is a small bowl — filled with fresh fruit.
apple slices, grapes, peeled segments of orange — bright and colorful, stark against the stale, suffocating air of the room.
“eat” he instructs softly, but there’s no question in his tone.
your fingers shake as you reach for the bowl, your skin cold and clammy.
you chew slowly, the sharp sweetness of the fruit cutting through the metallic tang that seems to cling to everything here.
he watches, eyes dark and unreadable, like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen.
days blend together after that.
the silence between you becomes less suffocating, more like a fragile thread connecting two broken things.
you begin to talk — not out of trust, but out of desperation to hear your own voice, to remind yourself that you’re still here.
your words are small, brittle.
“what day is it?”
“why am i here?”
“what do you want from me?”
sometimes he answers. sometimes he doesn’t.
but you keep asking.
one day, your lips part and his name slips out before you can stop it —
“scara.”
he freezes.
for a moment, the elegant mask cracks, and something soft flickers in his eyes.
“i like that” he murmurs, almost tenderly.
after that, everything changes.
or maybe it’s just that he steps fully into the role you’ve given him — the keeper of quiet moments, the calm in your endless storm.
he speaks more now.
asks how you slept.
tells you stories about a life you don’t remember.
he watches you with careful attention, memorizing the way your hands tremble, the rhythm of your breaths, the way your eyes dart around the room.
and you, exhausted and hollow, find yourself clinging to him — because what else is left?
but beneath the gentle words and small kindnesses, something darker pulses, a slow and patient danger that seeps into the air like poison.
scara’s patience is a weapon.
✦ —
you’ve been drifting through this foggy, endless haze for what feels like forever — days, weeks? months? you don’t even know anymore. the walls are cold, the silence so thick it almost presses on your skin. and scaramouche — he’s always there, watching, waiting. it’s this endless loop of quiet tension that’s started to swallow you whole, blurring everything until nothing feels real.
lately he’s different. quieter, yeah — but not calm like before. there’s this sharp edge to him now. restless, urgent. like something inside him’s unraveling and you’re the only thing holding it together. you can feel his gaze lingering, dark and desperate, like he’s trying to burn you into his skin.
he doesn’t just want you to obey. no, he needs more than that. he wants your love — broken, twisted, real love. the kind that’s desperate enough to choke you, that rips everything apart until all that’s left is him.
one night, exhaustion finally drags you down past the edge of fear and aching.
you lie there, curled up on the cold floor — or is it a bed? it all blurs together now. your limbs heavy, trembling, your chest tight from the weight of everything.
your eyes flutter shut even though your mind screams to stay alert. the silence presses in so thick you can almost taste it — bitter and metallic.
there’s a dull ache behind your eyes, a tiredness that feels like it’s eating you alive from the inside out. your body wants to rest, but your heart is still pounding, too scared to stop.
your breath is uneven, shallow, a ragged rhythm you can’t quite control. the faint sounds of scaramouche moving nearby slice through the quiet, like distant thunder waiting to crash.
but you’re so, so tired. your muscles finally surrender, your eyelids grow heavy, your thoughts slow to a crawl.
the world tilts and blurs — shapes melting, sounds fading. your body softens, sinking into a fragile stillness.
and then — finally — sleep takes you.
there’s a shift — subtle at first, like the brush of a shadow against your skin, a quiet breath too close. a pressure, barely noticeable, starts to press down on your chest, heavy and insistent. warmth blooms beneath you, but it’s the wrong kind of warmth — not comforting, not safe. it creeps in slow, seeping into your bones, thick and suffocating.
your body twitches once — a soft, unconscious flinch. your legs shift restlessly. your brow furrows like your mind is trying to surface, even as sleep holds you under. your breathing stutters, shallow and uneven.
the air feels wrong. the room is too hot. too still.
your skin prickles, damp with sweat, like your body already knows what your mind hasn’t caught up to yet.
even in sleep, your instincts are screaming. something’s wrong.
your body stiffens. your eyes flutter open, confusion and fear crashing through the fog of half-sleep. everything feels wrong — off — your limbs heavy, sluggish, like they aren’t yours. like someone else is pulling the strings, bending you to their will.
the cool air that usually clings to the room is gone. in its place: heat. suffocating, unbearable. it presses in from all sides, thick and damp and wrong.
and then you feel it — hands on your body. rough, insistent. they move with purpose, with a kind of twisted tenderness that turns your stomach. they don’t belong to you, and you know exactly who they belong to.
his body is flush against yours, pinning you down. steady. dominant. controlling.
your heart hammers against your ribs, panic pouring through you like ice water under your skin. your thoughts are loud, frantic — but your body won’t move. won’t listen. like it’s already surrendered to something it didn’t agree to.
and then it hits you, the sickening clarity of it: he’s fucking you.
no warning. no choice. just him — taking, claiming, breaking you piece by piece as you lie frozen beneath him.
your heart is pounding so loud you’re sure it’ll tear right through your ribs. panic crashes over you like a wave, your mind spinning, shattering every bit of fragile calm you’d been holding onto.
you try to move. try to push him away. but your voice is just a hoarse whisper, cracking with fear.
“no. please, no.”
but the words get swallowed by the thick air around you. you want to scream but the sound gets caught deep in your throat, strangled by shock and terror.
tears spill down your face, blurring your vision. you’re trapped — violated in your sleep by the one man who’s haunted your every moment, who claimed you without asking, without caring.
your mind reels — horror slicing through you, colliding with a twisted, aching yearning you don’t want to admit. you’re sobbing quietly, your heart fracturing into a thousand pieces you can’t pick up.
and your body — god, your body betrays you again and again. it trembles beneath him, caught between revulsion and something darker, something twisted. the unbearable heat, the pressure, the strange, impossible pleasure — you don’t want it. you fight it. but it feels good. it hurts so good.
every unwanted touch, every careless thrust twists the knife deeper, blurring the lines between pain and something dangerously close to desire. you hate it. you hate him. but your body — your body remembers a language it never wanted to learn.
and you’re breaking. piece by piece.
scaramouche’s breathing is ragged now, frantic even. his usual patient coldness has shattered into something raw, violent, desperate.
he’s lost control.
his eyes flash with wild obsession, possession — a hunger you can’t escape.
“mine” he hisses, voice thick with need and fury.
you’re trembling, sobbing beneath him, but he’s relentless. his hands roam your body like you belong to him — possessive, demanding, unyielding.
“you belong to me” he murmurs, voice low, dark, dripping with menace. “i’ve waited so long to have you like this.”
you try to push back, to say no, but your voice gets caught again, swallowed by fear. his grip tightens, holding you down like you’re nothing more than property.
“i know you want this” he growls, voice eerily calm but cruel, “you’re mine. and i’ll show you what that means.”
he thrusts slow and deliberate, eyes locked on yours — cold, calculating, like he’s trying to burn his claim into your very soul.
your sobs break harder now, tears streaming, your body betraying you even as your mind screams in silent protest.
he leans down, breath hot and heavy at your ear, each word a venomous caress:
“say my name. say it, and maybe i’ll be gentle.”
your lips quiver, trembling like brittle glass, your throat raw from the fear and silent screams. you swallow hard, voice barely more than a broken whisper slipping through the chaos inside:
“scara… no.”
his smile twists, cruel and possessive, like a predator savoring the thrill of the hunt. the light in his eyes darkens, obsession bleeding through every syllable as he hisses,
“that’s it.”
he doesn’t hear the no. doesn’t care. to him, your refusal is just another form of submission.
his movements grow sharper, faster — relentless and unforgiving. each thrust rips through you, splintering your fragile sense of self into fractured shards. terror curls in your gut, desperate and cold, spreading like poison through your veins.
you’re utterly lost — drowning in the suffocating weight of his possession, a storm of agony and something far darker burning behind your eyes.
tears spill freely now, hot and helpless, tracing silent rivers down your cheeks as your sobs catch in your throat, raw and ragged.
he’s so close, his breath shaky, uneven, like he’s holding himself together by a thread. that knot in his stomach tightens, twisting with desperate need — and suddenly he can’t help it anymore.
“you’re mine” he growls, voice rough and low, almost strangled by emotion. “so fucking mine.”
his hands grip you harder, possessive, like if he lets go, you’ll slip away forever. his eyes darken with hunger and something raw, pleading beneath the dominance.
“you feel so good” he rasps, voice breaking just slightly, as if admitting it’s not just control driving him, but something fragile and fierce. “so damn good.”
he leans down, voice dropping to a rough whisper, thick with need and something dangerously close to love.
“i love you” he murmurs, and even in the midst of chaos, you can hear how desperate those words are — like a fragile prayer he’s clinging to.
he cums inside you with a harsh, guttural growl — raw, possessive, claiming you in a way that feels like fire and chains all at once. every thrust pulls you deeper into a whirlwind of pain and twisted need, your body arching against him even as your mind screams in desperate silence.
warmth floods through you, thick and overwhelming, pooling deep inside like a mark — his mark. you feel it, heavy and undeniable, filling you completely, tethering you to him in the darkest way.
his breath hitches as he presses down harder, his hands digging into your hips with fierce ownership. “mine” he rasps again, like a curse and a promise.
your tears come harder, mingling with sweat, tracing the path of your broken sobs as your body shakes beneath him — fragile, shattered, yet tethered, marked, his forever.
the harshness fades, the desperate need slows — he collapses beside you, chest rising and falling, the wild fire in his eyes dimming to something quieter, more raw. his hands reached out to brush your hair back from your sweat-slicked face.
“hey” his voice is low, rough around the edges, barely more than a whisper. “i’m here. it’s okay.”
but you’re barely there. your body feels foreign, like it doesn’t belong to you anymore, a fragile shell cracked wide open. your limbs tremble uncontrollably, and every breath is a ragged, shallow fight. tears still drip from your lashes, unbidden and endless, and your mind floats somewhere distant — numb, broken, trying to hold itself together.
he senses the distance inside you, that hollow space where you’ve retreated to protect yourself. his fingers linger on your jawline, trembling slightly as if trying to hold together the pieces of you. his voice drops to a soft, cracked whisper, thick with something like regret.
“you’re so fragile” he breathes, “i didn’t mean to — i’m sorry.”
but even as he says it, the weight in his eyes is tangled with possession, like remorse and hunger are bleeding into one another.
you want to speak, to tell him how broken you feel, but your throat closes tight. the words won’t come. instead, you shake your head faintly, unable to explain the tempest inside — the terror, the shame, the hollow numbness swallowing you whole.
he pulls the thin blanket over you, wrapping you carefully, as if afraid you might shatter into nothing if handled too roughly. his hands linger, tracing small, tentative circles along your arms and back — trying to anchor you, trying to remind you you’re still here, still real.
“you’re safe” he murmurs, voice trembling now with something like regret, or maybe just exhaustion. “i’m not going anywhere.”
but the words barely reach you. your eyes stare blankly, unseeing, glazed with shock and terror that hasn’t faded — that maybe never will.
he presses a kiss to your temple, soft, desperate, like a plea. “i’ll take care of you” he promises, voice shaking with raw need.
✦ —
the room is heavy with silence, broken only by the faint scrape of something sharp against skin. your hands tremble uncontrollably, gripping a small shard — a broken piece of glass maybe, or a razor you found hidden somewhere in the shadows of this twisted place. the cold bite of it presses against your wrist, a burning line cutting through the numbness you’ve carried for so long.
your breath comes in ragged gasps as you slice again — and again — each cut a desperate punctuation mark on the quiet devastation blooming inside your chest.
the sting spreads quick beneath your skin, raw and real, a cruel kind of comfort.
you don’t cry.
not this time.
no, this time… it feels nice.
for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel something other than the hollow, echoing numbness that’s carved itself into your ribs. it’s sharp. hot. alive.
the kind of feeling that reminds you you’re still here — still trapped, still breathing, still you.
blood beads up and rolls down your wrist, slow and crimson and mesmerizing. it looks delicate, almost pretty in the low light of the room. you watch it drip, fascinated by the quiet way it stains the floor, like your pain is finally spilling out of you in a language someone might understand.
and that’s when you hear the door click open.
you don’t turn around.
you don’t flinch.
you just go still, hand still trembling, blade clutched loosely between blood-streaked fingers.
there’s silence — for a moment. a heartbeat.
then his voice, low and soft, laced with something unreadable.
“…what are you doing?”
you expect anger. a threat. punishment.
but it doesn’t come.
instead, you feel the slow press of footsteps behind you. then the warm, familiar weight of his presence kneeling beside you, close enough that you feel the brush of his breath on your cheek.
he sees everything. the trembling in your shoulders. the thin, shallow slices. the way you won’t look at him.
and god, it does something to him.
he should be horrified. afraid.
but all he can think is —
you’re so vulnerable like this.
so soft. so fragile. so his.
he doesn’t say it. he swallows it down with a slow inhale and reaches instead for your wrist, gently prying the blade from your fingers. you don’t resist. you just let him take it.
he lifts your arm, inspecting the cuts — careful, slow, methodical. his fingers ghost along the torn skin, touch feather-light but possessive in the way he holds you steady.
“you shouldn’t do this” he murmurs, thumb brushing a smear of blood like he’s memorizing it.
you say nothing.
“you’ll hurt yourself” he adds, like it isn’t already too late for that.
he disappears for a moment — returns with gauze, antiseptic, bandages.
you sit there, letting him clean you up, letting him care for you like he’s not the reason you’re falling apart in the first place.
he works in silence, brow furrowed in focus, movements so tender it almost makes your stomach turn.
and when he’s done, he lifts your hand to his lips and kisses the bandages like it means something.
“i don’t want you to disappear” he says softly. “not when you finally belong to me.”
his words land heavy.
you still don’t speak. you just lean into his touch without thinking, letting him tuck your broken body into his arms like you’re something precious, something worth protecting.
✦ —
you don’t feel safe — not really. not ever.
but you’ve grown… comfortable.
his presence used to make your skin crawl. now it just lingers — a constant, like breath or heartbeat. you’ve gotten used to the quiet creak of his footsteps, the scent of him in the sheets, the way his eyes never really leave you.
there’s something sick about it — how your body no longer flinches when he touches you. how it sometimes aches for it.
you hate how good it feels.
his hands — the same ones that held you down, tore you apart, branded you — they make your breath hitch now. the same voice that whispered horrors against your skin now makes you tremble for all the wrong reasons.
it makes you feel disgusting.
you tell yourself it’s survival. that you’re just playing along. that you’re tricking him.
but deep down you know.
after being with him for… days? weeks? months? years? it all bleeds together — you finally let him have your body completely, without fight or tears or screams. you don’t say no anymore.
in fact… you start to love it.
when he takes you rough, when he uses you hard and fast, when he grabs your hips like he owns you and tells you how good you are for him — your body reacts before your mind can catch up.
you moan for him. you beg for him.
and afterward, when your skin is raw and your limbs are shaking, you stare at the ceiling and feel sick.
because that shame never leaves.
you hate yourself. you hate him.
but you crave him anyway.
you can’t tell if he’s broken you, or if he’s simply uncovered something that was always there — something dark, needy, hollow.
and scaramouche?
he notices. he always does.
he can see it in your eyes — that twisted flicker of need.
and every time you give in, every time you let him ruin you again, he smiles.
because to him, this means one thing:
you’re finally his. completely.
and you’ll never leave.
✦ —
his touch was there again, creeping up your thighs, his mouth trailing down your skin like a fever you couldn’t shake. and you let him. you always let him now.
your body moves on instinct, hips rolling to meet his, breaths hitching and catching in your throat like broken glass.
you’re so used to this now — being used, being touched, being his.
but tonight, it’s worse. or better. you can’t tell anymore.
his thrusts are deep, punishing, each one pulling a soft whimper from your lips. his hands are everywhere — gripping your waist, sliding up your ribs, curling around your throat just hard enough to make your head spin.
and it just slips out.
a broken whisper.
“i love you.”
he freezes.
for a heartbeat, everything stops. his body stills, his breath catches. his eyes — always hungry, always watching — go wide with something raw.
“…what did you just say?”
you blink up at him, dazed, fucked-out and hazy. your lips part again, barely moving, and you whisper it again.
“i… love you.”
you don’t even know if you mean it.
but he does. oh, he does.
his pupils blow wide, a low, guttural sound rising from his throat. and then he moves — harder, rougher, like he can’t help himself.
“say it again.”
you do. you moan it this time, his name tangled in the words like a prayer.
“i love you, scara—”
he growls, crashing his lips into yours, tongue desperate and wild. he kisses you like he’s starving, like he needs to consume you to survive.
his hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise, dragging you closer, deeper, until there’s nothing left between you. he fucks you like he owns you — like this is what he’s been waiting for all along.
and maybe it is.
“mine” he breathes between kisses, each one sloppier than the last. “you’re mine. you’ll never leave me. never again.”
you cling to him, body shaking, head spinning.
you don’t know if it’s real — the love, the heat, the unbearable ache in your chest.
but right now, it doesn’t matter.
because you said it.
and now, he’ll never let you go, not again.
✦ —
you don’t remember how it started — i mean, you barely remember anything now.
your memories are soft around the edges, blurred like fogged glass. moments bleed into each other — flashes of light and shadow, touch and silence, pain and something that almost feels like warmth.
you think there was a time before him.
you think there was a you before him.
but now?
now, there’s only him.
his hands, his voice, the way he watches you like you’re something precious. like you’re something he owns.
and maybe you are.
you wake up to him.
you fall asleep with him.
you breathe him in like second nature, like instinct, like survival.
he brushes your hair behind your ear in the mornings. he kisses your forehead before bed. he tells you what to wear, what to eat, when to speak, when to smile.
and you do it all.
you do everything he wants.
because the world outside doesn’t exist anymore. not for you.
only this room. these walls. his voice.
he says he loves you.
and now, you say it back.
not because you mean it. not at first.
but because it makes him happy.
and when he’s happy… you get to rest.
when he’s happy… he’s gentle.
but somewhere along the way, the lie got sticky.
you said i love you so many times that it started to taste real in your mouth.
it started to sound like the truth.
and now — god, now — you’re not even sure you’re lying anymore.
you miss him when he leaves the room.
you ache when he doesn’t touch you.
you need him, in a way that makes your stomach twist and your chest feel hollow and your skin crawl with shame.
but still.
you look at him and think: he takes care of me.
he feeds you. he holds you when you cry. he brushes your hair and hums lullabies in a voice softer than the monster you know him to be.
he tells you you’re beautiful when you’re broken. he kisses your scars like he didn’t put them there.
and maybe that’s enough.
maybe that’s all love really is.
not freedom. not safety. not kindness.
just permanence.
just someone who stays.
and he will.
he always will.
because now you’re his.
and now — you love him, don’t you?
even if it feels like drowning.
even if it started with fear.
even if your love is carved from survival.
you love him.
you repeat it when he asks, when he holds you, when he takes you apart like he’s worshipping something sacred.
you say it until it tastes like truth.
and maybe one day you’ll forget there was ever a time you didn’t mean it.
maybe this is what forever feels like.
warm hands. a locked door. the quiet hum of a lullaby.
⠀꒲ ` premises . being deaf is hard but with your boyfriend by your side it takes your worries away, you’re starting to navigate through the world with him in his open arms and your relationship started off in a slowburn-ish but it started to get more intimate.
⠀꒲ ` warnings . nsfw, p n v, body worship, prasies, pet names (baby, love), fingering, you can imagine if they used protection or not, mentions of belly bulge, kinda size kink? kazuha talks you through it, mostly fluff, deaf! reader, no proofhead this have been sitting on my drafts since june 15
꒲ ` notes . based on that one chapter (manga) of a sign of affection, hehe, anyway you can’t convince me that kazuha and itsuomi i aren’t the same, reader is also based off yuki so reader cant hear even with hearing aids on and choose not to talk. this is so long what
⠀
◟ 𖤝 楓原和葉! KAZUHA KAEDEHARA
itsuomi!bf!kazuha who you first meet on a train after he just got back from traveling to liyue, a large backpack on his shoulder as he help you talk to the foreigner that was asking for directions to a café.
itsuomi!bf!kazuha who you’re drawn to after getting a proper look at him, he’s so beautiful — those soft crimson eyes, fluffy platinum blonde hair with a nice touch of red stroke and his tooth gap. it makes your heart beat so fast.
itsuomi!bf!kazuha who saw that you’re wearing hearing aids, indicating that you’re deaf and immediately started to talk a bit more slower so you could understand what he’s saying but you got distracted because of his kissable lips that you ended up zoning out.
itsuomi!bf!kazuha who goes to the same university as you and turns out to be friends with your childhood friend — scaramouche and is part of the literature and international club and is friends with kokomi.
itsuomi!bf!kazuha who pats your head as his stop arrives, it’s. a gentle form of affection as he mouthed a soft “see you soon” and he stepped out of the train, leaving your heart thumping and beating fast yet silent, like a fluttering Snowflakes on a boundless blue sky.
itsuomi!bf!kazuha who you found out worked in a café that is owned by a senior — Diluc Ragvindr who comes from a wealthy family and is very respected by many, and your friend kokomi is willing to company you and take you to the café as your wingwoman.
itsuomi!bf!kazuha who you finally saw after weeks since your first meeting, he was wearing his work uniform and his hair is tied in his usual high ponytail as he fixes everything in the counter. you and kokomi made your way inside and kazuha immediately turned to look at who walks in and his eyes landed on yours.
itsuomi!bf!kazuha who immediately smiled at the sight of you entering the café as he immediately escorted you and kokomi to your seats on the front, his smile seemed sweeter and more fond than usual — his eyes crinkle as he looks at you, immediately grabbing a whiteboard and a marker and handing it to you so you can communicate and talk without having to get your phone.
itsuomi!bf!kazuha who you made your heart beat so fast with everything he does, making your order and handing it to you with a smile, the prettiest smile you have ever seen, might i add.
itsuomi!bf!kazuha who is so gentle and kind that he offered to walk you home, his hands holding gently on yours as you took the safer side of the road. the snow piling on your hands as you guys both walk in such comfortable silence.
itsuomi!bf!kazuha who offered you his number when you asked for it in such an adorable way (his words, not mine). a smile on his face as he tapped his number on your phone, he’s so beautiful that it’s almost like he’s not even real.
itsuomi!bf!kazuha that you missed after he went away for a month to travel once again, his backpack on his shoulder as he bid his goodbyes to you — mouthing that he’ll buy you a souvenir after he gets back. gosh, you miss him so bad.
itsuomi!bf!kazuha who learned sign language for you to communicate with you better and make it easier for you to understand what he is saying to you and he rarely ever messes up! his fingers are so gentle and forward whenever he signs to you, he communicates with you in such sickening gentleness that makes you swoon.
itsuomi!bf!kazuha who you’re falling for, your feelings run down more than a mere fascination. he’s so sickeningly sweet that it hurts in a good way, he makes you roll on your bed out of flattery, he’s so good with his words. its unfair.
itsuomi!bf!kazuha who finds himself getting more and more in love every time he has the smallest interaction with you whenever he has free time between managing his job and schools, he loves you so much that even a two or three hours is enough for him. he cherishes and enjoys your time together — whether if it’s only a minute or even a second.
itsuomi!bf!kazuha who finally confessed his feelings during a snowy evening at the café he’s working at. he gently excused the two of you away from the others, gently leading you two out of the café as snowflakes fell into the boundless skies.
the winter air was cold, snowflakes are falling through the skies making the evening much more beautiful especially with the lights coming from inside of the café. everyone was busy talking and drinking inside the café but (name) and kazuha stood outside in complete silence but their hearts were beating and thumping in their chest in the most nonhuman way.
you were holding a whiteboard that you always use whenever you’re in the café, you finished what you’re writing on the whiteboard and showing it to the platinum blonde — who eyed you with such gentleness that it almost made you buckle, dear archons he has such a huge effect on you.
“i came here to see you, did i come at the wrong time?” is what was written on the board, kazuha only let out a soft laugh echoing through the chilly evening as he shook his head as a “no” to your question. it’s adorable, really. how can it be a bad time whenever you visit?
the two just stood there looking at each other, a smile on their faces before kazuha decided to break the tension. He raised his hands gently, moving it in a forward yet gentle motion as your breath hitched upon understanding what he was saying after he had finished
“(name)” is what he signed first, “can we become a couple?” is what took your breath away — couple? he wants you guys to be official? you were caught off guard, no scratch that. you’re speechless — too surprised that your eyes started to water. “my sights getting blurry, i can’t read his lips” is your initial thought but you managed to wipe your tears off with the sleeves of your coat.
kazuha, upon seeing your reaction grabbed both of your wrists in a soft manner — careful not to hurt you in any way. he brought you closer to him as he slightly towers over you with his height, looking at your eyes with his soft crimson one before he used your hands to sign.
“your answer?”
you looked up at him with a surprised expression, it was silent for awhile before you gathered your courage and nodded repeatedly. “yes” is what your actions scream — kazuha smiled sweetly at your answer before he gently pulled you closer in an embrace, his warm body heating you up and warming you from the freezing temperature of winter.
“thank you, i promise i’ll take good care of you.”
he said in such a tone, you can’t hear it but you can feel the vibrations coming from his body and that’s enough to comfort you.
itsuomi!bf!kazuha who shows you off in a subtle way to his friends after the two of you finally became a couple, his friends aren’t surprised because kazuha have been ranting about you to them and they often catch the platinum blonde writing poems and haikus all about you.
itsuomi!bf!kazuha who secretly gives you free beverages in the café without anyone knowing, he secretly pays for it and he’s so slick that no one ever noticed — even diluc himself.
itsuomi!bf!kazuha who promised you one day that the two of you will finally travel the world together side by side, the imagination and promise was so sweet that it made you determined to work and get your money to have a passport.
itsuomi!bf!kazuha who throws a celebration party for the two of you after you guys finally graduated along with your friends and you finally got your passport has finally paid off and he gives you the sweetest kiss ever
itsuomi!bf!kazuha who brings a fresh bouquet of flowers when he first visited your house, a small gift for both of your parents and greeted them in your traditional way — your parents immediately love him because he’s just so sweet.
itsuomi!bf!kazuha asked for your parents for their consent to travel with you and settle into another nation, though your parents are very hesitant — they agreed later on because they know that you will get the most stable and happy future and life with kazuha.
itsuomi!bf!kazuha who you finally get to live with alone in a nice and stable apartment that fits both of you and your first stay in your new home was supposed to be awkward but with him.. it feels welcoming..
your first day at your new home was comforting and welcoming, at first. you were just out of the shower, hair dripping wet while you’re wearing a camisole and a pair of shorts, it’s a normal outfit but for KAZUHA, oh no.. he‘s losing his shit.
he respects you, he really does but the way your tits are practically falling out of that camisole, your thighs visible, he just can’t stop this underlying desire he has for you, his beloved lover.
and you seem to be so oblivious about the effect you’re having on the platinum blonde boy — who is fighting the urge to ravish you in your new bed. you joined him on your shared bed and immediately crawled in his arms, KAZUHA put his hands on your waist pulling you closer coaxing a gasp within you.
He had a blank look on his face but his eyes were filled with love, adoration and. . want. his lips parted and so are yours, eyes staring at each other with such intensity it could melt you. KAZUHA leaned in, nose touching and breaths fanning on your guys faces. his crimson eyes were soft, almost as if pleading, asking for your permission for him to kiss you.
you didn’t hesitate on giving him a nod and once you gave him the sign his lips were on yours. soft and gentle, worshipping you with his lips — pouring his undying love and adoration with his kiss. his kisses were always enough to take your breath away, it’s always gentle and intimate yet sultry and needy at the same time.
it didn’t take long until his kisses turned into a needy one, his fingers finding yours and intertwining it. gripping your hand in a gentle manner — not wanting nor risking hurting you, his mind might be in a frenzy and in celestia but it doesn’t mean that he would hurt you.
KAZUHA gently pushed you against the pillow, your head making contact with the soft plush behind you as he pulled away from the heated kiss. you stared at him with a dazed look, want in your eyes that reflects his own desire as he raised his hands to sign.
“are you sure you want to continue? we can always stop, I don’t wanna rush you.”
your eyes soften at how he was still attentive to you, he was fighting his desire and still wants to make you feel comfortable, you smiled at him and nodded — giving him a signal that you guys can continue. he smiled back as he pressed one last kiss on your lips before it went to your cheek, then to your nose, forehead, jawline till it reaches your neck.
pressing soft kisses then and there, trailing from your neck to your chest. his hands lifted the camisole that you’re wearing, raising it just slightly to show your abdomen before he kisses your stomach as well, showing his devotion through his open mouthed kisses.
“let me take care of you, okay? relax.”
soft moans filled the room accompanied with the squelching sounds of skin to skin meeting, KAZUHA’s hands were on yours gripping it like it’s a lifeline as he thrust his hips gently and slowly. making sure you’re getting the pleasure he wanted to give, he is too big! you didn’t expect him to be this big, he’s almost bulging in your tummy.
praises after praises continue to fall on his lips, hips stuttering as he buried himself to the hilt of your velvety cunt. so tight and warm, almost as if eager to suffocate his dick and archons, he would be lying if he said he doesn’t enjoy the life of him getting sucked out if it was your pretty pussy squeezing him.
“you’re doing so well, love. taking me so— ngh. . well.” he murmured, his words sending vibrations throughout your whole body. his thrusts getting sloopy and uncoordinated yet somehow manages to hit every sensitive spot inside you without even trying, his fingers still laced with yours as every thrusts coax out every moans from you making KAZUHA’s dick even more harder.
he lifted his head away from your neck and stared at your face, eyes hazy and teary with your lips parted, swollen and wet from all of his sloppy kisses. you look absolutely breathtaking, so breathtakingly beautiful. something out of a fairy tale. he could make love with you all day without ever getting tired of seeing your face twisted in ecstasy.
“k-kazu. .!” you whined dumbly, he halted his movements upon hearing your voice whining and moaning his name. KAZUHA was surprised, speechless even in a good way, you sounded so cute and beautiful moaning his name like that.
you whined when he stopped, your eyesight finally getting clearer as you looked at him. you had thought that you did something wrong, immediately pulling your hand away to touch his face but he just gripped it making you squeal.
“moan my name like that again please. .?” his words caught you off guard, you didn’t even acknowledge that you accidentally talked, the pleasure was too much it made your mind hazy but nonetheless you nodded.
KAZUHA gave you a kiss before his hips resuming his past pace earning a high pitch moan, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix coaxing out a moan from him as his hands continued to grip yours. Pushing it against the sheets, one particular hard thrust has you coming undone on his cock. eyes closing, rolling back as your release hits you like a wave.
but it seems like KAZUHA wasn’t done yet, he leaned back again kissing your lips, taking it in a sloppy, messy kiss with his soft ones before he mumbled.
“one more. . give me one more yeah, baby?”
who are you to deny him for the release he desperately craved?
♡゛staristseyo . 2025, my works aren’t meant to be plagiarised, stolen, copied, posted on a different platform without my consent.
(๑•́ -•̀) rants : i know i have promised that i’m working on request but academics are getting harder with every day getting bombarded with works and performances task, i dont have much motivation nor energy to write so i sincerely and deeply apologize if your requests are getting way too long to get published — i currently have 10 requests, i’m really trying making content for you guys. i hope you won’t mind ! Thank you for understanding.
navigation . links will be listed here along with the request rules, there will be do not interact rules here.
𝗗𝗢 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗧 . things that wouldn’t be appreciated or acceptable here.
DNI 💭 : supporter of pedophiles, abusers, rapists, groomers, gooners, sexualization of minors, sa jokes, normalizing making fun of people’s insecurities or traumas, pressuring writers, rape, sa, romanticizing sensitive topics and saying it’s “dark romance”, bringing up people’s exes in front of their significant others, racism, israel pro, sexism, toxic christians, toxic LGBTQ members, shipping a gay person to a lesbian + more.
𝗗𝗢 𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗧 . things that are acceptable and tolerable in this safe space.
INTERACT 💭 : take sarcasm lightly except if it’s very personal and offending, gender equality, wlw, mlm, has the same humour as me + more ! anything that isn’t listed in the dni part is acceptable !
𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗜 𝗗𝗢𝗡’𝗧 𝗪𝗥𝗜𝗧𝗘 𝗙𝗢𝗥 . these are the things that I will not be comfortable writing for, please keep this in mind before requesting.
EW NO 💭 : non-con, rape, sa, abuse, heavy degradation, period sex, hate sex, threesome, foursome & gangbang, foot fetish, heavy dark smut, knife play, piss kink, gun play, minor x character unless platonic, minor x minor, character x character, heavy bdsm + more.
𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗜 𝗪𝗥𝗜𝗧𝗘 𝗙𝗢𝗥 . please keep this in mind before requesting because if you don’t follow i will ignore and delete your request.
OMG YES 💭 : wlw, mlm, soft sex, body worship, unprotected sex, protected sex, creampie, hard sex, choking (light), praises, light degradation, cock-warming, breeding, any type of normal kinks, fluff, teethrooting fluff, yandere themes, obsessive behaviour, stockholm syndrome, angst, hurt with no comfort, hurt with comfort, fluff + nsfw, fluff + angst, angst + fluff, nsfw + fluff, angst + fluff + smut, specific reader is acceptable ! + more.
⏰ drabbles 🍮 nsfw 💿 titled works 📩 currently working
HATES EVERYONE, BUT LOVES YOU 💿 (adeptus xiao) : he hates everyone, that’s what he thought but somehow he doesn’t hate you, in fact he feels the opposite when it comes to you — love.
WELL MY BOYFRIEND’S PRETTY COOL 📩 🍮 (kaedehara kazuha) : being deaf and navigating through the world without hearing any sound is difficult, though fortunately for you, you managed to make the renowned kaedehara heir swoon at your feet.
HOW DOES HE LOOK AT YOU? 📩 (kinich, albedo, xiao, wanderer) : he looks at everyone with a neutral expression though it doesn’t escape them at how they look like at you, but how?
WANDERER WITH A SEELE S/O! 📩 (wanderer) : a sweetheart and a mean cocky arrogant dickhead! an odd pair isn’t it? stay tuned to see how their love story goes!
BABYING THEIR S/O 📩 (albedo, kazuha, kinich, xiao, wanderer) : you’re strong and capable of protecting yourself, you know that and you’re sure that your boyfriend does too. so why does he keeps babying you?
WIND BREAKER ⭑ MAIN
🍈 drabbles 🥛 various 🏐 titled works 📸 currently working
SOFT RULES 🥛 (suo, nirei, sakura) : you were born with a disability and that said disability is with you not having to hear anything around you but luckily for you, your beloved boyfriend is there with a gentle, guiding hands for you to take and hold while the two of you navigate through the world along with their soft rules they made to remind themselves.
FASHION SENSE 🥛 (kaji, nirei) : (f. name) was quite different from the townfolks of makochi, most people wear colorful, calm and dark colored aesthetics but you had a different style. instead of wearing all those types of clothing you proceeded to wear all gothic style. in which, your boyfriend — finds interesting.
ANXIETY BE GONE! 🥛📸 (suo, sakura, kaji, tsubakino) : they know what they’re entering and getting themselves into for, handling with their significant other’s constant anxiety but they would never get tired of taking care of you, so just lean back and relax while they calm you down okay?
SOFT RULES 📸 (tsubakino, kaji) : you were born with a disability and that said disability is with you not having to hear anything around you but luckily for you, your beloved boyfriend is there with a gentle, guiding hands for you to take and hold while the two of you navigate through the world along with their soft rules they made to remind themselves.
💌 upcoming 💐 aus 🦢 chatfics 🐑 modern
LOOK OF LOVE 💌 (soshiro hoshina, reno ichikawa, narumi gen) : they look at you like you hung the stars and moon, it’s so sickening to see them helplessly look at you in such adoration and lovesickness.
BOYFRIEND TEXTS 🦢 🐑 (wanderer) : unhinged messages between you and your dickhead of a boyfriend, wanderer.
BOYFRIEND TEXTS 🦢 🐑 (xiao) : soft messages yet also unhinged with your boyfriend, xiao.
LOVE AND WAR 💐🐑 (wanderer) : your group band have always had a beef with a boy band, 6reeze and you being the troublemaker and the rebel made a post about them that causes.. ruckus.
DRACO MALFOY ⭑ MAIN
🍏 fluff ☃️ smut ❄ angst ☄️ currently working
JOHNNY DON’T LEAVE ME ☄️ ☃️ (draco malfoy) : the pressure of constantly pleasing his father and bearing the mark of being a death eater, having to kill innocent people in exchange of not getting killed has draco stressing out, he seeks refuge on you— his lover and he lets out his frustration during sex.
THEY FELL FIRST, HE FELL TOO LATE, THEY MOVED ON, HE CAN'T LET GO ❄ (draco malfoy) : you know loving someone who has a high ego like draco would be a bad idea, a really terrible one yet you can't help yourself— even with the constant insults and jabs about your family, your house and yourself coming from him has been taking toll on you until you finally let go, the feelings fading. but as you finally distance yourself, Draco was falling, falling deeply yet he was too late.
⠀꒲ ` @dolletelia , my works aren’t meant to be plagiarised, reposted, copied, stolen without my permission. biggest thanks to my editor who edited this! ncoami.
꒲ ` yuki’s diary . i’m working on probably 5+ requests &. a nsfw fic with itsuomi!bf!kazuha because you cannot convince me that the two of them aren’t the same — anyway, please be patient ! i’ll try finishing them and get them posted but it will take long because school is starting tomorrow ! thank you for understanding, love you all.
⠀꒲ ` premises . he hates everyone, that’s what he thought but somehow he doesn’t hate you, in fact he feels the opposite when it comes to you — love.
⠀꒲ ` warnings . out of character xiao, xiao just being himself, teeny tiny bit of angst, reader’s gender not stated but can be gender neutral / female / male ! no proofread, we die like xiao’s friends.
⠀꒲ ` notes . my cousin requested this trope after he had read something on wattpad ! and i immediately thought of xiao, it’s giving cold to others but soft to you type of trope
◟ 𖤝 ⠀ 曉! XIAO
XIAO have never once cared for the mortals, sure. he does protect them from the dangers roaming around— but he doesn’t engage with them. he’d rather stay in the inn than involved himself with mortal matters. most people avoids the adeptus while others converse with him but not for too long — the intimidating aura he gives often scare people away.
most people says that his height is taller than his temper, in which — xiao himself, even though offended, agreed with the mortals words.
he scowls 24/7, he disappears in a cloud of smoke whenever someone visits him in the inn. He’s hard to pursued, he’s snarky and stern but he’s an eye candy.
But there’s a shift in his attitude when it comes to a certain person — you, who managed to gain the affection of the infamous adeptus. who cracked his walls without even trying.
his scowl softens into a small smile, his sharp tongue hesitates, his words getting stuck in his throat. you just make his heart accelerate in the most ungodly way. dear archons, he needs to get a grip. He’s not acting like himself, what’s wrong with him?
xiao’s feelings run deep in his veins, his palm get sweaty whenever you’re within in his zone. he’s scared, afraid that he’s gonna hurt you with his karmatic debt — that’s why he sometimes avoids you, trying to protect you away from what he might do to you if his karmatic debt gets worse.
but you, you‘re way too persistent. insisting on visiting daily, bringing him almond tofu and even adding a small yet fresh bouquet of qingxins that is wrapped in a cute teal silk on the side of the food you had brought and cooked for him.
xiao had tried your cooking once, it tastes different from what the usual almond tofu he always ate but.. it’s somehow pleasant and gave him a sense of comfort. the tofu was soft yet perfect in texture that it melts in his mouth, he likes it.
every now and then, he might not admit it but xiao will always like your cooking and will gladly eat it without any complaints. but he sure does love the one who cook it more.
your writing is so good omg !! If it’s not too much trouble, could you pls write about the windbreaker boys with a gothic reader? preferably with nirei and/or kaji but any of them are fine tbh ^^
no pressure though obvi !!
ᰋ. FASHION SENSE : # 002
premises. (f. name) was quite different from the townfolks of makochi, most people wear colorful, calm and dark colored aesthetics but you had a different style. instead of wearing all those types of clothing you proceeded to wear all gothic style.
in which, your boyfriend — finds interesting.
characs &. warnings. ren kaji &. akihiko nirei ft. their gothic significant other. warnings : probably ooc, no proofhead because i’m half awake writing this, so i apologized for the convenience — this is also on schedule so it's probably an old draft and theres no editing here lol and i’m currently working on the other requests. also i don’t know what kind of gothic you’re asking for so I hope this suits you! love all of my gothic qingxins. ALSO THIS IS FINISHES BUT WHEN I FINALLY TAPPED SAVE TO DRAFT IT DIDNT SAVED EVERYTHING AH. darn you tumblr.
◟ 𖤝 ⠀ 梶 蓮! REN KAJI
REN finds your choice of style endearing and interesting, he haven’t seen someone fully wearing Gothic styles. he mostly seen people either wearing designer clothes, casual and a bit of both. and most of their colors are either leaning from pastel or light or warm to dark.
so seeing you— his ever gorgeous, majestic lover wearing your own sense of fashion really impress him. REN adores you and how you style your attire from the top, to the pants or skirts to the bottom. HE ABSOLUTELY loves it — which he doesn’t admit because he’s just too shy but the way he looks at you says it all.
the way you just look good in everything and how good you are with styling yourself. making you more drop dead gorgeous.
REN also loves how you carry yourself with such confidence never letting those incompetent people make your self-esteem low, how you never let anyone’s words get through your pretty head. though people never dared to say something like that after all—
your boyfriend — REN, will never tolerate any disrespect towards you.
◟ 𖤝 楡井 秋彦 ⠀! AKIHIKO NIREI
in all honesty, you and him are the absolute opposite of each other — you who wears dark colors with a hint of light and warm colors, him who wears clothes that screams loud and bold and colorful, he has a lot of characters patterns on his shirt. A huge contrast to your sense of fashion.
even though the two of you we’re never in the same page of sense of style, the two of you complements one another — in which, in others eyes you two both look good together. the real definition of opposites attract.
AKIHIKO adores your sense of fashion and how different you dress from other people, he likes how you style yourself. the two of you comments on each other’s attire, advising one another what to wear and what to pair the attire the two of you are going for.
your boyfriend absolutely loves how you dress, how your clothes suits you, how it shows every majestic and beautiful curves you have. AKIHIKO also helps you what to accessories that go well with your clothes whether it will be baggy pants or skirts or leg warmers or piercings and bracelets.
AKIHIKO is good with fashion, just not on himself. He helps you with anything you‘re having trouble on, you don’t know what skirts to weat? he already has all the skirts you have splayed on your bed and commenting what goes well, having a hard time picking a main accessories that will make your clothes stand out? he already grabbing every accessories and put them on you to see which one is better.
so, whenever you’re having a hard time picking. your boyfriend will be on his way to help
⟢ wind breaker boys with a deaf!reader and the soft rules they made. [ not requested ]
ᰋ. SOFT RULES : # 001
premises. you were born with a disability and that disability was not being able to hear, navigating through the world without hearing anything was difficult especially since you’re experiencing everything differently from others.
but— your ever beloved, boyfriend was there to navigate the world with you with a soft, guiding hands. ready for you to take in any moment, as they navigate with you.
they have their rules, soft rules they made just for you.
characs &. warnings. suo, nirei and sakura : out of character (?) , no proofhead , please let me know if i missed anything.
◟ 𖤝 ⠀ 蘇枋 隼飛! HAYATO SUO
soft rules. never make them feel small
HAYATO made himself that rule to constantly reminds himself that to never make you feel like you’re small (if you’re taller than him then congrats) and by not making you feel small is by—
leaning down to your level whenever you’re signing something or just standing there in general, he wanna make you feel at least taller than him whenever you’re doing and it’s a win-win situation because he gets to see your features more clearly whenever he’s doing it.
sometimes he crouches down too, it happens when you’re fixing your shoelaces and insisted on doing it for you.
and that makes your heart flutter.
◟ 𖤝 ⠀ 楡井 秋彦! AKIHIKO NIREI
soft rules. never make them feel left out.
AKIHIKO made that rules because he knows what it feels like to be left out or how tough it is for his significant other to join in conversations because of your hearing impairment. That’s why he made it his job to make you feel like you’re never left out and alone.
and by that, he means that whenever you guys are in a big group and people are laughing and chatting, he always signs to you or message you (even though you guys are together) to tell you what the other’s are talking and laughing about.
he always make sure that you don’t feel left out or alone at all, and it makes you super happy to have him as your lover.
◟ 𖤝 ⠀ 桜 遥! HARUKA SAKURA
soft rules. always be gentle with them.
in all honesty, HARUKA will try, i mean TRY to be gentle with his significant other. not because you’re weak and vulnerable but because he’s scared that he’ll hurt you in any way. he’s trying his best to be gentle with some struggles of course.
he tries to tone down his voice because we know he’s loud whenever he’s flustered, he also slow down his lips movement because he talk so fast and he wants you to understand what he’s saying.
he doesn’t admit it but HARUKA will have a sense of comfort whenever he’s being gentle with you, he always make sure he doesn’t come as someone who’s rough especially to you because you’re precious to him.
—﹙🍡﹚⑅ please follow these rules before requesting and to avoid getting blocked from this blog ♡ ₊
◟ 𖤝 ⠀禁止! PROHIBITED
𖤝 dont ! basic criteria, homophobia, zoophiles, racism, sexism, rape jokes, rapist defenders, sa jokes, sexualizing minors, pedohpilia, groomers, false rumors or false accusation, dramas, heavy bdsm, knife play, gun play, piss kink, foot fetish, anything that is weird, character x character, heavy gore, child x character, child x reader, proships + more.
◟ 𖤝 ⠀許容できる! ACCEPTABLE
𖤝 do ! teeth rooting fluff, hurt w. no comfort, angst, hurt with comfort, marriage, age-up characters, selfships, pre-established relationship, pinning, any kind of normal tropes ex. sunshine x grumpy, smart x dumb, oblivious x obsessed, long-distance relationship, platonic relationship, romantic relationship, wlw, deaf!reader, mute!reader, black!reader, blind!reader, any specific reader, nsfw (no minors) + more.
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