May I request Senku developing a crush on his childhood friend after the petrification? fem!reader if possible (if not gn!reader is completely fine)
hope you have a good day :)
Something is different.
Senku isn’t referring to his environment, which is so far removed from everything he used to know and love. Instead of brick buildings and concrete pavements, there is seemingly never ending forestry, green and gravel beneath the heels of his makeshift shoes.
It isn’t Senku’s clothing, which is only some thin tattered animals skins that he had spent days working to hunt down the material for, then skin, then tan, and then stitch together with whatever he could to make the haphazard, ugly garment he wears on the regular to provide him with whatever kind of protection from the elements he can with the resources available to him. It’s a stark contrast to the color he used to wear long ago.
It isn’t even the new friends (and enemies) he’s made since freeing himself from his petrified state. A whole village of people, now, who look toward him for guidance and instruction, upon him with admiration and reverence. People who help him against the newfound stakes, newfound work, newfound responsibilities that haven’t in the slightest been easy to take on.
Something is different, and amongst nearly everything in his life becoming dirt and dust nearly overnight, Senku is referring to something different about you.
But he isn’t referring to the environment he’s used to seeing you in, a school setting, perhaps a park, maybe his own room. There’s no new observation to make about a change in your room or a decoration in your locker, because like him, those things are long gone.
It isn’t your appearance, a similar reflection of your new environments and state of the world. Random pieces of tanned skin poorly stitched into something that resembled clothing, a Frankenstien’s monster of a garment. More simple and plain assuming compared to the various designs and fabrics you wore way back when you’d spend time on an experiment with Senku. He watched you mature from one phase of your life into the next, and this was no different.
It wasn’t even the new people you surround yourself with, found comfort within. It wasn’t listening to their stories, the things that made these people, so far removed from your time, human. It wasn’t the small, pleasant things that he knew grounded you when you got too caught up in your head, the new habits you made out of retrieving materials, crafting things to keep your hands (and mind) busy, new skills you learned (or were forced to learn) and previous skills you learned to develop.
But for the life of him, Senku cannot figure out what it is that’s different. He drives himself a little further mad each time he looks on at you. There’s something in his mind, almost like an itch, that intrusively takes hold on the rest of his senses when there’s a moment between the two of you, whether it’s a quiet one, whether it’s one of shared excitement or mutual understanding. There’s a warmth and a chill that wash over him at the same time when your gaze settles on him a little too intensely, or when you say something wise and agreeable. There is something he’s missing, and he can’t figure out what.
Maybe it’s your laugh that’s different, though Senku doesn’t know why that would be a thing of prominent notice, or notice at all. It’s a little rougher, and at times with a little less heart than he’s accustomed to after so many years of hearing it bright and enthusiastic. But it’s still kind, and most of all, genuine. Perhaps something about that makes it distinguishable from another.
Or perhaps it was your new approach to, your new outlook on, life. No, perhaps it was the way you applied your already existing approaches and outlooks to your new, unique circumstances. To help cope, to help others, to help him.
It was something different, Senku was sure of it. However, he hasn’t had much time to linger on what could possibly be the source of such…irritation, for very long.
Perhaps a more irritating point was the fact that Senku could hardly place a time when he first observed this difference.
At the very least, he could estimate it to be sometime after the both of you emerged from the stone.
The simplest solution, perhaps, could be for him to just ask you directly. It’s the easiest way to confirm or deny hypotheses’. He would ask if you had gotten haircuts in the past, ask if you had gotten any sleep after noticing prominent circles under your eyes and sluggish movements. This was no different.
But when Senku finds himself hesitating on an evening when the two of you are working in the lab together, Senku thinks that maybe this is the different thing. For some reason, he’s slower to communicating such personal things, despite it being nothing more than simple, casual and menial conversation.
You’ve had hundreds of conversations about a million different things over the years, from careers you aspire to pursue in earnest to the more daunting topics about love and loss. He’s seen every side of you, good and ugly, he’s heard every side of you. Every insecurity, every point of pride, about every friend who’s come and gone and stayed behind; and in a more Senku like fashion, you’ve heard the same from him, in that straightforward and logical way of communicating that you’ve always been able to see through from the wavers in his voice to the passionate glints in his eyes.
But something is different. Something has been different.
Yet the two of you work away in the lab as if it were any other evening, the twinkling stars in the sky he admires so much hidden away by the walls and bamboo roof. It’s what you’ve been doing since you’ve established some sort of lab to work out of ever since the petrification. Senku has felt quite disturbed by this difference of yours, but at the very least, he finds it comforting that it doesn’t affect this routine that the two of you established early on in your relationship. The content, collaborative efforts the two of you put in to create something satisfying, worthwhile; exciting.
It’s what he’s always felt with you in your relationship. Thrill to indulge in something he’s passionate about together, thrill to create something with you, thrill to be with you--
Senku pauses his work for a moment. He shifts his gaze from the notes in front of him to where you stand just down the opposite end of the table, completely enamored with the tests you were performing.
Something is different. He thinks, at that moment, that he’s almost figured out what.
But the realization he was about to reach disappears from him suddenly, and he can’t seem to become conscious of the conclusion when he stares at you. He tries desperately to recall it, reach for it in his mind, through a frantic look at your features. The warm light against your skin, the gentle movement of your hands, the concentrated furrow of your brows.
His heart feels like it might burst out of frustration the more he looks at you, and he forces himself to turn away. It’s there, it was there!
(And it still was.)
He’ll figure it out eventually.
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nothing (besides everyone ignoring Orym's deal) has made me angrier than watching Dorian keep up this facade. Dorian Storm has always been a type of mask he's worn. At first he called himself a liar because of it. The happy go lucky bard was a way of escaping for him. He was escaping Brontë so he created Dorian. He didn't believe he was Dorian. Until the Crown Keepers made Dorian real. And for a while, he really believed he was Dorian. That he has this new family and new life and he could be who he truly wanted to be.
And then his brother came back and made his problems Dorian's problems. Until he had to put Brontë back on. Because even if the Crown Keepers + Cyrus called him Dorian, he was Brontë. He had to be who his brother thought he was.
When Cyrus dies, the thread to Brontë had snapped. He was going to see Orym, back to the Bells Hells, back to Dorian Storm. But the foundation of Dorian had shattered. Dorian was created in order to run from his place in life, family, Cyrus. Now he was gone. The Crown Keepers had fallen apart. His friends fell through his fingers and he couldn't do anything to stop it. He was once ready to side with a betrayer god for these people and now they're in the wind.
So Dorian shows back up to Bells Hella and he's completely broken. The foundation of both of his lives has been thoroughly rocked. No brother. No Crown Keepers. The two things that forged Dorian Storm. He wears that mask so fucking well. Because he still wants to believe in it. He said it live on stage that he should "believe his own backstory". The one he made up. The one where he was a bard.
He wants to be Dorian so bad. He spends all his money on Orym, he spins the bottle so he can kiss his friends, he flirts, he blushes and giggles at compliments. Exactly how Dorian would, should.
But he wears the gold of the heir. He has a festering animosity inside his chest. He doesn't sleep. He's thinner than he was. He doesn't sleep. He sicks abominations after their creators. He talks to God's without an ounce of self preservation, daring them to strike him down. He does not acknowledge them as they taunt him.
The god of beauty and magic calls him beautiful and he does not smile.
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I heard you wanted a request?
So i will request!
Could you write some fluff for ryusui from dr stone please?
Could you please write about ryusui trying to catch an oblivious crush attention?
Thank you!
Yes! Omg I got a request 🥺🥺🥺. I should re edit my acc to be open kehehe. Anyways, since there's no specified gender, it's an automatic gender neutral, okay?
"ᴅᴇꜱɪʀᴇᴅ, ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟʟʏ."
(GN! reader x Ryusui Nanami)
Extravagant, bold. Two definitive terms that quite describe the heir of the Nanami conglomerate. He wasn't Ryusui without that, was he?
He does not shy away from stating what he wants, nor does he wither from encouraging anyone from doing the same. A person who knows himself. Direct, precise.
Yet, he somehow starts to doubt those very same facts the moment when it comes to you.
With how much Ryusui talked about desire more than the average person, it was easy to get used to how he worded his wants and his passionate pursuit of it. In fact, you nearly choked when he yelled out what you thought was a confession.
"I desire you!" was what he said, leaving you to awkwardly stand with your hand out to shake his. Luckily, this misunderstanding was quickly cleared, and your hesitance faded out the more time you've grown used to his presence.
And so, it seemed that same desensitization was like a curse for him.
As you were part of the power team, he always made sure to meet with you at the end of the day. Walking with you from the field back to where the others were.
"[name]! Great work today! Any plans for tonight?"
"Mhm! I have to go help out Kaseki. He asked me and Kohaku to help him out in carrying some woodworks after dinner."
Then, the time where you were both on the ship. As you both stood out on the deck, overlooking the sea.
"You know, [name], this view is even more beautiful, now that the person I desire most, is right here with me."
"Haha! I just saw a turtle!"
It was frustrating, but also gave a thrill, to which he didn't mind playing along with. The pursuit of passion, how far would he go, for this? Finally, one a little bolder, when the perfect opportunity comes as you're both one of the last ones by the dining.
Here, you both sit across from each other. The sound of the sea outside are faint, and gives the perfect ambience to the silence.
Swirling the wine in his glass, he takes a small sip. "When it comes to desire, I believe that there is nothing that should be worth stopping you from obtaining it."
You nod along, just as tipsy. The wine in your glass sways along. "So true, king."
He rests his elbow on the table, leaning on his fist. His other hand holding the wine glass, points at you. "Your ignorance may know no bounds, but so does my desire. And I'll let you know, that I've never denied myself of anything I've truly longed for."
Groggily, you nod. "You said a lot of fancy words, but whatever you say, king."
Ryusui watches you blink in a daze. Yeah. He's no quitter. Downing the rest of his glass, he decides to just go for it.
"[name], I desire your heart. I desire you." he goes quiet after this, staring intently. His expression is unreadable, and you would tell if you weren't still a little tipsy.
"I'm afraid I still need it, sorry." Your eyes get droopy, and you put your glass on the table. "Not... not a registered donor." you mumble.
Ryusui sighs, putting down his own glass. Nevermind. "I think it's best you go to bed now." Grabbing your arm, he throws it over your shoulder, hauling you up. Drowsily, you only nod. "Yessir.."
Luckily, you weren't that far gone, and could walk properly. So, it was no problem getting you to your room. But before he could leave you by the doorway, you suddenly reach out, surprising him.
"Hey, Ryu." you mutter, leaning on the door. He looks at you curiously, listening. "Yes?"
"I like you." you sway your head, a little sleepy. "It's fun every time I'm with you."
Ryusui stills for a moment. You yawn, letting go of him. "Well, g'night, Ryu." is the last thing you say before entering, closing the door behind you.
A beat, and one more, before, a tint of pink dusts his cheeks.
It wasn't much, but it was progress. He went straight to bed after that, eyes curving with a little more mirth that night.
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i know i said more dom!reader blah blah blah sorry arlecchino rotted my brain severely. tmasc bunny!arle giving me severe brain damage /pos
(he/him prns used for arle)
at a glance, the big ears and small puffball of a tail might temporarily make you think Arlecchino is far sweeter then he actually is. how could anyone who looked so cute be anything but, right?
but you know better. you serve under Lord Arlecchino - literally. tucked under his desk while he makes you slobber and choke all over his strap. you barely get to breathe with his hand fisted in your hair, keeping you right where he wants you. if you've been particularly exemplary on your little missions, he might even let you sit on his lap. though whether thats worse or not is debatable, making you cockwarm him as he works. and you'd better keep quiet, too. he's not above muzzling you or just straight up shoving his fingers into your mouth to silence you while you squirm on his lap.
maybe if you last until he's done he'll fuck you properly. bend you over his desk and pound your pretty little holes until you're unable to stand. he'll still make you clean up his strap afterwards, of course.
it's when he's in a bad mood that he really gets going. sheds the act of polite, dignified little bunny. no, he's here to break you in and use you like the little toy you are. and you'll let him, won't you? drooling all over his strap when he fucks your throat raw, drags you into the nearest room the moment he sees you to watch your eyes roll back into your head as his cock stretches you out..
he's just as much of a mess as you are when he's this pent up, though. he doesn't bother keeping up appearances when he just has some pent up stress to get out. if you could even think straight you'd notice his puffball of a tail wagging and his ears drooping as he ruts into you, panting and grunting against your ear when you cum around his strap for the tenth time. you could almost swear you heard him whimper, but you'll be in a world of punishment if you mention it the next day (he absolutely did).
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