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comatosebunny09 · 6 months ago

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carpe noctem [ conflict ] | sylus

— summary: whatever they have is cosmic. which is why you quietly bow out, thinking you never stood a chance. — cw: reader is not mc, reader implied to be femme, assassin!reader, obligatory club scene, alcohol consumption, unrequited feelings, jealousy, sisterly love, self-loathing, suggestive, stream of conciousness, not proofread, mdni — notes: thank you for reading! [ part 1 | part 3 ] — now playing: bad girls like you - tobii

—of course, by unwinding, you assumed Ms. Hunter meant the celebratory clink of whiskey glasses together, with something murky and vicious sloshing around inside. Something to take the edge off, to dull your senses, and to assuage the ache in your muscles where the painkillers couldn’t.

A club was the last place you expected to be after blowing an arms dealer and his men halfway to hell.

Then again, you’re not complaining, swathed in the subdued glow of red strobe lights and fog. You’re in your element, surrounded by sweat-slicked bodies and people just trying to feel.

The club reminds you of Lux, minus the cheap upholstery and subpar drinks. You’re at least 1,000 miles from Linkon, settled on some floating oasis in the middle of glistening aqua waters. You’ve barely had time to enjoy yourself, your trio hitting the ground running as soon as Sylus’ jet touched earth. You’ll be leaving in the morning, swept back into the lonely, glacial abyss of the N109.

So you dance like tomorrow isn’t promised. Like you’re performing onstage, garnering the lust and envy of those around you. You always do, the art of seduction practically ingrained in your DNA after using it to your advantage for so long. Years of luring men to their demise inhabit every sway of your hips, every roll of your body, every sultry curl of your lips.

Besides, being here is also a nice little distraction from the cacophony of your mind, replaced by good music thudding beneath your feet, and your cheeks aching with a tipsy smile. You grab the hunter’s hips. Bring her closer until your chests collide, and she’s wide-eyed with parted lips, unsure of what to do with her hands.

“Relax,” you soothe, your voice slurry as you encourage her to sway. To loosen up. She’s stiff at first but catches your drift, letting you control her with a wonky grin as her wrists cross behind your neck. That’s more like it.

You fed her a few drinks to ease her nerves—it was her idea to come here. And after the three of you cleaned up and rested at the hotel, she suggested it over dinner. You and Sylus traded looks, your faces bearing different degrees of amusement. Ms. Hunter babe isn’t much of a social butterfly, but the pair of you relented, figuring you could use the diversion.

You’re playing up her allure. Whispering praise against her bangs, encouraging her to release her inner sexy.

He’s been watching her from the VIP section since you dragged her to the dance floor. Scarlet eyes peeling through the smog, tuned to her every move. You wish it were you he eyed like that, but you shove those green-eyed thoughts onto the backburner, dancing, grinding, laughing. Losing yourself to the music. You’re on a mission to get her boned tonight. Living vicariously through her, knowing that it’ll never be you he beds. At least one of you can end the night on a good note.

The song slides into something sultry. Ms. Hunter slips out of your grip, a giggling mess, stumbling towards the red velour couch where Sylus sits. You watch her plop down beside him, the cocktails slackening her grace. You can’t make out what they’re saying when he angles closer to hand her a drink. But he’s wearing that customary tilt to his lips, sweeping some hair behind her ear, where he eases in to murmur something against the shell of it. Whatever he’s on about, it makes her laugh, and she playfully smacks the devastating stretch of skin peaking through the slit of his silky button-down.

Your lips twitch, smile falters. Everything around you morphs into a Gaussian blur, the music muddled as what’s left of your senses home into the scene. You swallow against the swell of feelings burbling up when Sylus pulls her closer, a long arm slung around soft shoulders. They exchange a look before the hunter glances up, shaking you from your trance. She raises her glass to you in a quiet toast. As if to convey, I’m alright in case you were wondering. Of course, she is. Why wouldn’t she be when he handles her like glass, the fondness in his eyes as palpable as the bitterness scorching your throat?

Sylus’ gaze tracks to yours. You offer a quiet smirk with a tilted brow, tamping down your envy. Wearing that playful front once more, turning back towards the dance floor.

At least your plan is working, you muse, swallowed up by the crowd of writhing limbs and lust. She’s definitely going to get some tonight if the idle stir of his eyes whilst he painted a triangle between her lashes and lips is any gauge. You did your job. Well at that.

So why do you feel so shitty?

A virile arm snakes about your waist, siphoning your breath as it drags you against a hardened body. You tuck your inhibitions away as the stranger who grabbed you grins, dark hair sweeping over manicured brows. You let him guide you into a slow wind, grateful for the save.

And you’re utterly oblivious to red eyes scrutinizing the stranger’s hand as it splays against the space between your shoulder blades.

—

It’s quiet on the executive floor of the hotel. Then again, it’s a quarter to 2 AM, and you’re sure everyone occupying these rooms is sound asleep. So, you shush your hunter friend for the umpteenth time, stumbling beside her as she giggles drunkenly into your ear.

You can’t help the crack of a smile, her arm slung about your shoulder as you guide her towards her room, and she throws her head back, singing something that makes her voice crack and you wince.

“Quiet,” you chide, your intermingled voices bouncing off the walls. You must be quite the sight. Two barefoot beauties stumbling down the hall, trying to make sense of the world.

The embossed letters of her room pan into view. She laughs as you cautiously frisk her for the keycard after propping her against the door. She’s a little worse for wear. You feel bad, having overdone it with the cocktails. Not your fault you could hold your liquor a little better than she could. So when Sylus left you to close out some “business,” as he so cryptically put it, it was up to you to ensure Ms. Hunter made it back to her room without a hair out of place.

So much for her getting laid tonight.

Finally, you procure the card. You swipe it, taking the hunter by the waist before she barrels in. Instinctively, her arms snake around your neck, and she stumbles into you, nearly knocking you off kilter. She’s all sloppy-grinned, the alcohol on her breath pushed into your nostrils. She blinks sluggishly at you, and you bite back a laugh. Never would you have imagined seeing Ms. Hunter, all prim and pretty and carefully constructed, looking like this.

“You’re pretty, you know that?” she breathes, tapping your nose. You scoff, maneuvering yourself to herd her into her room. She carries on spewing nonsense as the pair of you toddle beneath the dim lighting of the room’s entryway. The king-sized bed slides into focus. You let her fall onto the mattress, steadying her before she can slide off. Her hair falls onto her face, a new onslaught of laughter dribbling from her lips.

You kneel to grab her ankles, almost losing your footing yourself. You might not be as trashed as she is, but you’re still a little loose-limbed. A little tipsy, teetering on that slurry edge, having tamped down your inebriation to play big sister.

“You’re gorgeous,” she continues when you stand, positioning her legs on the bed as comfortably as you can.

You tuck her beneath the heavy blanket, ignoring her nonsensical talk. Scoop dark tresses away from her face, beholding red-speckled cheeks and swollen lips. It’s no wonder Sylus fell for her. She’s a marvel, girl next door pretty. The heroine of a romcom, where you’re a sex symbol, molded to be used and envied rather than exalted.

Ms. Hunter teeters in and out of sobriety, sleep beckoning to her with its ghostly croon. Before you depart, she speaks to you again, her voice abrasive with exhaustion.

“The prettiest girl around. No one could keep their eyes off you, not even Sylus. He was practically drooling. You see that?”

You stiffen, your hand closed around the glacial brass of the door handle. You cock your head towards your shoulder, something warm flushing over your skin. She talks a lot for someone under the influence. But it’s as if she’s read the inner turmoil coloring your mind, not like you do the best of jobs masking your feelings.

It wasn’t me he was drooling over, you want to say. It never would be. He’s too swept up in her. Their history, their past. You’re merely an afterthought in the grand scheme of things. Something disposable. Something pretty to further his agenda. Even if he was looking, it was probably to ensure you weren’t getting into trouble.

He’d have a hell of a time finding someone on short notice to fill your shoes. His pretty little femme fatale. It just so happens you’re unconsciously grooming your replacement, treating her more like an ally than a rival.

You wait until her breaths even out. Until she’s sunken below the depths of unconsciousness before you slip out of her room, your chest heavy as if weighed down by an anvil and a bitter twist to your lips.

Before you can make your grand escape to your room to nurse your impending hangover, a familiar voice curls around the vowels of your name. Of course, he would have a room across from hers, and it is with bitter realization you look up at him from the floor, schooling your expression into one of indifference.

Sylus leans against the doorframe, so very massive in comparison to it. You try to ignore what the playful cant to his lips does to you. How his pretty, scarlet-spun eyes dance when he studies you. Ignore how the tendons in his neck flex when he swallows, how his Adam’s apple bobs. The slither of tanned skin stretched over his pectorals calls to you. Your fingers twitch at your side with the need to touch. You stifle the feeling, barring your gaze from slinking lower. He’s devastating, and you don’t trust yourself not to make a move you’ll later regret right now.

“How is she?” he asks, the husky grit of his voice furling in your chest. Your heart sinks. Of course, he wouldn’t ask about you. You’re a big girl, more than capable of fending for yourself. To inquire about your status would be an insult according to him. You square your shoulders, sighing with that infuriatingly artificial smile to your lips.

“Hammered, but she’ll survive. She’s sleeping it off now.”

He snorts, shifting his weight between his feet. “Of course. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to go out after the day we had.”

You nod, suddenly hyper-aware of everything—your pulse thrumming in your ears. Your throat constricting. You toy with your fingers, taking this time to dismiss yourself before you spout out some nonsense.

“Gonna go get some sleep myself. See you in the morning, bossman.”

“Need some help getting back to your room?”

You peer at him from your shoulder, eyes slightly widened, mouth open, working around words that refuse to come. Something indiscernible lurks in his gaze. It’s as if he’s searching. Looking for something, though you’re sure you’re mistaken.

“I’m alright,” you say with a sticky laugh, starting down the hall towards your room. All the while, your nerves scream through your inebriation, and you squint when you reach the door around the corner, inwardly admonishing yourself for turning him down.

A delusional part of you believes there was more to his offer than what was presented at surface level. But you were too stuck in your head to read between the lines. After all, Sylus would never settle for someone like you. Not when you’re mere costume jewelry in comparison to uncut gems.

You throw yourself against the bed once you’re inside your room. Peer up at the ceiling, studying its texture until your vision slides into a vignette around the corners, and then you drift into the violet embrace of sleep, deciding to deal with this new swirl of feelings later.

preface | masterlist | rising action

#sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus angst #carpe noctem series #limerence series

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selunefae · 2 days ago

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Dirty Thoughts (+18) - Caleb (Love and Deepspace)

You were on vacation, and with Caleb working the morning shift, you’d taken full advantage of the alone time to finally start the book Tara had been bugging you to read – an erotic novel with a highly suggestive cover that left no doubt about what it was. Unfortenly for you, Caleb comes back home earlier than usual.

masterlist | request rules

rating: +18, MDNI

word count: 1,954

tags: caleb (lads) x reader, smut, fem!reader, afab!reader, dom!caleb, established relationship, is not specified if the reader is MC or not (up to interpretation)

content warnings: shameless smut, vaginal fingering, oral sex (fem receiving) dom/sub undertones, use of petnames (babe, sweetheart)

notes: Quickly posting this because tomorrow i work and it's 1AM HAHA. Hope you like it. The ending is kind of rushed, but I didn't want to delay this more. The fragments of the book you're reading are taken from a Zayne x Reader oneshot I wrote a few months ago. You can find it here. :) English is not my first language, not betareader, not proofread.

When Jane finally felt his touch, her fingers wrapped the arms of the chair with a force that made her knuckles turn white. The smooth leather of his glove dragged along her inner thigh in gentle moves, cool at first and warming with each stroke. The sensation sent a shiver through her body, making her legs twitch involuntarily.

“You’re unusually tense today.”

She parted her lips to respond, but the words tangled in her throat the moment he moved his hand again. His fingers slided lower, skimming along her entrance, just barely touching before retreating.

“What’re you reading, Pipsqueak?”

Caleb’s voice abruptly pulls you out of the book you were reading. Your entire body jolts. The book snaps shut in your hands with a loud whump as you cross your arms over the cover.

It’s only midday. He wasn’t supposed to be back yet.

“You’re home early!”, you squeal, voice higher than usual.

He’s already halfway into the living room by the time you look up, still in uniform and with his jacket halfway down his shoulders. You glance at the hallway at his left, and start to think of an excuse to escape in advance.

“I was going to surprise you,” he says with a lazy grin, dropping his keys into the dish by the door as he makes his way closer. “So, what are you reading?”

He heads straight to the couch, and you feel a rush of panic bloom in your chest. You sit up in a move a bit too quick to be casual and hide the book behind your back, plastering on an awkward smile. “Nothing! Just a dumb romance that Tara recommended.”

Caleb arches an eyebrow, not truly convinced with your answer. His gaze drags over your arms and the tension in your posture. Then, he leans to the side, angling his head forward in an attempt to peek behind you – but you’re faster. Like it comes as second nature, you spring to your feet and twist your body so your back stays between him and the book, successfully hiding it.

But he doesn't give up.

He steps left, ready to round you. You instantly pivot to block him, mirroring his every move. He leans forward, you rise on your toes. He goes right, you go left.

“Really?” he laughs, amused. “Is that how you wanna play?”

You’re about to reply when your body stiffens at the sudden change in the air. The weight in your limbs disappear, and for a second you feel your feet hover off the floor. The book slips from your arms in a sudden tug, yanked upwards by some invisible force. You whirl around just in time to see it floating through the air and landing neatly into Caleb’s open palms.

Your jaw drops. He has used his evol to win! “Caleb, you damn –!”

“Mmh, let’s see…” he flips it open with exaggerated interest, eyes scanning the page you left off on. Then, he begins to read aloud, voice dripping with mock like he’s reciting a bedtime story. “His hand finally found her core. His fingers glided through the slick folds, the oil on his gloves mixing with her arousal. She was already so wet.”

“Caleb!!” Your stomach twists. You lunge forward, reaching for the book, but he easily lifts it just out of your reach. “Give it back!”

“Jane knew this was part of the treatment and it didn’t mean anything more when Dr. Smith touched her; but for some time now, this has stopped being just a treatment for her,” he continues, eyes flickering over all the words piecing together the context. He looks at you again, but this time his eyes have a different type of glint. “Doctor, huh? Is that what you’re into?” he says as he closes the book and gives it to you.

You take the book with hesitant hands, eyes fixed somewhere near his collarbone, too embarrassed to look him in the face.

Guilt starts coiling tight in your stomach. He probably thinks you’re gross, reading such nasty things when you’re alone. You must have hurt his feelings, and now he thinks he’s not enough. And it’s all your fault. Why would you even need to read something like that when you have Caleb – ?

“Babe,” he interrupts your spiraling with one single word. “I’m not mad.”

He takes a step closer, and you take a step back, the back of your legs bumping into the edge of the couch. Before you can even think to retreat further, he reaches up and gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I just think,” he continues, voice an octave lower, “if you’re gonna spend the morning getting all worked up over a book…”

His hand slides around your waist, and as if you weigh nothing, he puts you down. The cushions catch your back, and he leans over you to trap you between him and the couch. The warmth of his solid body makes butterflies flap in your stomach. You blink up at him, breath caught in your throat as he plucks the book from your hands. He flips it open to a random page, then settles it back into your grip, angling it so it rests against your chest ready to be read again.

“...you might as well have an immersive experience.”

He shifts downward, lips brushing your stomach through your shirt. His hands part your legs until he can settle between them. “So, why don’t you lie down and keep reading? Out loud this time.”

His voice is low and full of heat, but he’s not asking you: he’s commanding you.

You blink down at him, wide-eyed and lips parting like you’re about to protest, but words won't come out. Not when he’s looking at you like that, with his head between your thighs, mouth so close to your core you can feel his breath even through the fabric of your pajama pants. Your entire body prickled with heat.

“Go on.” He nods towards the book, voice darker than before. “Read.”

You feel warmth rush to your face in an instant, because God. You want to hide, to cover yourself or make some weak excuse to leave, but instead, you swallow the nerves down and drop your gaze back to the pages. His voice leaves no room for negotiation, and his presence leaves you too dizzy to disobey.

You clear your voice, voice small but steady. “She… she let out a soft gasp when his fingers returned, thumb finding her clit and giving it an experimental rub –”

You stop mid-sentence.

A breath punches out of you when Caleb’s hand slides into your pants. He finds your clit immediately, like he knows your body better than his own, and as if he’s following a script, his touch mirrors the words of the book. Your head tips back with a soft gasp and your eyes meet his.

He smirks up at you.

“No panties on…?”

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pajamas and begins to slide them down, eyes never leaving yours. You lift your hips without having him to order you, and he takes them off. He throws the fabric somewhere behind him. He leans in closer to have a better view, the sweet smell of your bare cunt filling his lungs. You stare at him agape, freeze in your place. He notices and reaches up to gently caress your thigh with one hand.

“Keep going.”

You blink down at the book again, hands trembling as you search the line where you left on. “Dr Smith stopped his movements to spread her lips apart –” you read, “and stare at her… winking hole –”

You feel the pressure of his hand again, opening you up.

“ – rubbing it with one of his fingers before gently… prodding at it!!”

You gasp. His long finger sinks in without warning, stretching your tight walls. Your hips twitch, thighs clenching around his wrist. Caleb doesn’t seem to reach, just watches you from down there while he waits for you to continue.

“You’re doing so well,” he whispers right against your core, the vibration sending sparkles straight to your brain. “But don’t stop now, sweetheart. You need to finish the chapter.”

You force your eyes back down to the page, vision a little blurred from everything going on below. Your voice comes out strained this time, “he starts working her tight hole with his long fiingeeer…” the words tumble clumsily from your lips. His finger pushes deeper, then pulls out completely before sliding back in. “E-each time he pushed… ah… in, his palm ground down on your sensitive clit…”

Caleb’s hand tilts, and the heel of it massages your sensitive spot at the same time hsi finger enters your cunt. Your entire body reacts at once. Your spine completely arches off the couch, a long moan escapes your throat, and one of your hands flies to his shoulder to steady yourself.

“C-caleb I –”

He looks at you through his lashes, the corners of his mouth curling into something dark and satisfied. “Continue.”

You don't even know where you're supposed to continue. Your eyes glaze over the words, every line swimming on the page. You just pick the first sentence that makes sense.

“Then, finally… Jane felt something warm and wet pressed against her c– AH!”

Caleb replaces his fingers with his mouth. His hands curl around your legs, anchoring you to the couch and holding you open for him. His tongue does slow moves at first, but he soon speeds up, matching every ragged breath you take. He hums at your taste, savouring every part of you. He’s not even following the narrative of the book anymore, just enjoying the taste of your cunt.

“A-and begins sucking it…” you try to keep reading, but the words move incoherently and you’ve long forgotten what you were even reading. You moan and your back arches. The book tilts in your grip, then slips entirely from your fingers and lands forgotten on the floor.

Caleb doesn’t seem to mind, because he doesn’t stop.

His hands stay firm on your thighs, grounding you as his mouth explores every corner of you. The measured licks grow messier, eating you out with desperation. Every now and then, his lips close around your clit. Your hips jerk closer, the pressure inside you building fast.

“I…” you breath, barely able to speak. “I’m gonna…”

That’s all he needed.

He lets go of one of your legs, free hand now moving lower again – and then he’s inside you. He thrust two fingers inside you like it’s nothing, the mix of your juices and his spit helping ease the pressure. He sets a pace that robs you of thought, matching the rhythm of his tongue with the thrusts of his fingers. He angles them just right, hitting your sweet spot every time he sucks your clit. Your hips jolt back into his face, your toes curl, and you finally feel your climax hit you.

“Mmmh… that’s a good girl,” he praises, slurping your juices while you come hard on his fingers.

He waits for your body to relax, then lifts his head to look at the mess he’s made of you. “You didn’t finish the chapter.”

You manage a breathless laugh, still dizzy. “Think I lost my place.”

He smirks, brushing his knuckles along your thigh. “Then we’ll just have to start again.”

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unintentionalseductress · 6 months ago

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this has been on my mind for a while the Lads with an aerial silk acrobat mc, that while they know that's she's an acrobat they have never seen her practice her speciality and 1 day they find her practicing it. If possible would love to see what you think they would be like when they see it (sfw or nsfw your pick)

Hey there! Thank you for your patience as I worked through my queue. Ok, aerial silk acrobatics is insane, Cirque Du Soleil always leaves me in awe.

Dancers of the Air

A/n: No warnings needed, mildly suggestive for Sylus maybe.

Zayne:

He watches you practice in silent admiration. He knows your livelihood depends on your ability to perform, so he's aware of how much effort you put into taking care of your body, but this is the first time he's seen the other side of it.

His mind starts to name the muscles needed for each move you make, realizing how much internal strength each one takes.

He's not the type to make his presence known. He waits till you're done and safe on the ground, then approaches you to tell you how impressed he is.

Rafayel:

He's an artist, and he appreciates all art forms including acrobatics.

When he sees you practicing it takes all his willpower to not shout out his admiration. He doesn't want to distract you though, but he will discreetly take pictures of you so he can see you like this whenever he wants.

Despite the safety net beneath you he can't help but feel nervous as he watches you suspended so high up on those silky sashes. This probably stems from his fear of heights.

Sylus:

He's a patron for the performing arts, giving generous donations regularly.

That's how he met you in fact, during a show. You stood out from the other performers and by the end of the night he couldn't resist asking for an introduction.

Your practice sessions leave him in awe of your flexibility and the coordination needed between your teammates. Unlike Zayne and Rafayel, he'll sit right in the middle of the stage, looking up at you encouragingly while you blush trying not to get distracted by his presence. He wonders if there's a way to get those sashes into the bedroom.

Caleb:

There's always a part of him that's going to worry for your safety despite the reassurances that many precautionary measures have been taken.

His heart hammers in his chest as he watches you flip through the air and are caught by another team member. But your fluid movements and graceful form leave him intrigued.

He likes making his presence known when you're practicing and he does it by using his evol. You'll feel the sudden lack of gravity as you float too high, then the sudden increase as he carefully brings you to the ground and into his arms. You roll your eyes but secretly love it.

Xavier:

Has his eyes glued to you the whole time. Can't bring himself to look away.

He'll do pretty cute things while you practice, maybe create some small fairy lights using his evol and have them hover and trail behind you with each movement. This is how he makes you aware that he's in the vicinity but he doesn't expect you to look for him. It's just his way of letting you know he's around.

He'll call you adorable names based on your profession - Moon Dancer, Sky Chaser, Cloud Ballerina. They might sound a little odd but you know he's doing it out of love.

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dollyswishingwell · 1 month ago

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Okay, hear me out on this one. I've been getting a bunch of Sabrina the Teenage Witch on my fyp and now I can't stop thinking about a specific scenario where MC is a witch and has a talking cat or familiar of sorts. Idk if anyone else has done this, bit I know you'll do my vision ✨️justice✨️

Thank you pookie dookie bear ❤️❤️❤️❤️

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Witch

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ as someone who dabbles in witchcraft i had to write this immediately, it’s so fluffy and cute

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ The boys with a witch reader

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

- Constantly accuses your familiar of stealing your attention. “Why do you kiss it goodnight first?!”

- Helps you label spell jars with glitter stickers and makes potion videos for fun, “just for us, not the internet.”

- He makes you make a love potion so you can drink it for each other.

- Uses your cauldron to boil candy. You get mad. He pouts and gives you a handful of enchanted gummies.

- Sneaks into your moon bath rituals and dumps petals in dramatically. “For love! For beauty! For me!!”

- “Witch? Please. You’re my goddess. The stars work for you.”

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

- He insists on calling your spells “experimental treatments” just to cope. But you caught him reading your grimoire once.

- Your black cat familiar hates him. It always glares from the windowsill while Zayne brushes your hair in the morning.

- He’ll let you enchant his scrubs with protective charms (as long as it’s subtle). He thinks it’s silly…until they actually work.

- Brings you rare herbs from hospital imports and makes sure you have fresh rose quartz on hand.

- If you’re tired after a ritual, he puts your familiar on his shoulder like it’s part of the household. “Come on. Your witch is passed out again.”

- “You’ll kill me one day with those potions, sweetheart.” (drinks it anyway, just because you made it.)

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

- He understands your familiar perfectly. They often whisper to each other behind your back, plotting treats and surprise naps.

- You once caught Xavier floating while dusting the library, a candle balanced on his head. “That’s not a spell,” you said. “Isn’t it?” he replied.

- He loves your nightly tea rituals. You stir sugar clockwise to sweeten your fate together. He watches you, eyes soft.

- Always falling asleep with your spellbooks in his lap and your familiar curled against his neck.

- The two of you once enchanted your entire penthouse to shift its decor seasonally. Xavier added a snowflake charm in the corner just for you.

- “Your magic tastes like honey. I like it.” (He nuzzles your neck while you stir a love charm.)

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

- “Why settle for potion jars when I can build you an underground crystal lab?” (He does. With biometric locks.)

- Your familiar is oddly loyal to Sylus. It sits on his throne and only moves when you tell it to.

- He lets you read his enemies’ fortunes with your cards, then kisses your knuckles as you whisper who’ll betray him.

- Brags that his wife could curse anyone in high society, and they’d still beg her for tea.

- Secretly wears a cursed ring you gave him “for protection.” He pretends it’s just a fashion statement.

- “You’re my little witch. My spoiled, dangerous, sweetly wicked housewife.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

- Walks into the kitchen to find you chanting over a jam jar and nearly faints. “Pipsqueak, are you summoning something?”

- He built a protective rune wall around the penthouse but pretends he did it “just for fun.”

- When your familiar gets sassy, he picks it up by the scruff and lectures it like a tiny general.

- Gets you to make love charms so he can carry it around with him cause it makes his head woozy with overwhelming love for you (more than normal…don’t know how it’s possible)

- Brings you moon-charged water from the Skyhaven labs for your potions. Won’t admit it’s sweet.

- “You’re not allowed to go into the astral plane alone again. I nearly lost my mind.” (Hugs you so hard your spell candles flicker.)

170 notes · View notes

astracora · 5 months ago

Text

Cold Metal, Warm Sensation

Characters: Poly!LADs x gn!mc, Caleb x gn!mc (Caleb POV)

Warnings: Spoilers for Caleb's story.

Word Count: 3363

Written: 18th February 2025

Notes: Established-relationship with gn!MC with all LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me. Ok I finally got this done, amidst the pain... This is pre Caleb joins Polycule fully, but it's post Caleb stops trying to lock MC in a box. (Unless they ask nicely). Polycule understand the agony of not being able to touch your loved one, lucky (and unlucky) for Caleb.

Now Playing: I'm With You, by Avril Lavigne

Masterlist AO3

The first time his arm comes up, is after he says goodbye to you one morning. You have a mission with Xavier in the Fusion No-Hunt Area, so as you say goodbye to everyone, Caleb takes your right hand in his own.

It's become something of a routine for him, or a ritual, he thinks. He can't feel the metal of your prosthetic against his unfeeling right hand, but he can squeeze without worrying about hurting you. He looks down at your clasped hands, and watches as you squeeze back. Your other hand goes to his cheek and then you press a kiss to his skin.

It's fleeting, and quick, as you release and race off to follow Xavier. Yelling a final goodbye behind you, Mephisto follows on a gust of feathers.

He sits back at the kitchen counter, staring down at his hand, raising it to his cheek, and exhales a sigh.

No matter how much he touches you, it never seems to be enough. Like he is always missing something. An unending yearning or greed he can't sate properly. He can touch you with his left hand all he wants, but he still cannot stop feeling the loss of emptiness in his right like an eternal agony.

"You should let me take a look at it, if it bothers you that much tin-man." Sylus speaks from the side, glasses perched on the end of his nose as he reads through some documents the twins have handed him.

Caleb is trying not to chafe around your polycule. He is, he tells himself. Even if he glares or huffs, faking smiles when you're around to not hurt you. They care about you, almost as much as he does, he supposes. So they'll do, for now. If nothing else than shields if things get bad.

If EVER want access to you, they can get through these four first.

Instead of responding to the N109's king, he turns away, grabs his coat and leaves.

He isn't their tool to experiment on. He's only ever a tool in your hands.

The second time it comes up is much later, he was injured in a fight, throwing himself in front of a Golem to protect you. Taking the things fist to his raised arm. He'd pushed through the pain, even as his arm was mangled in the process. Firing rounds into the thing's head.

As soon as it was felled, you'd pulled him to the side, furious and agitated. He'd laughed, "I'm fine." He promised, even as he felt the fever rising up through his body. His body failing him as the agony ripped through his system.

He vaguely remembers collapsing, hearing you call his name, and then talking to someone. When he wakes, he's back at your home. Their home. His home? In one of Sylus' rooms where he tinkers on Mephisto.

Spread out over the table, as the man works, humming along mostly in tune to a song Caleb has heard you singing to.

He feels like he's floating, and it's hard to speak, when his body feels so dreadfully heavy. The flash and heat of a soldering iron as parts are repaired, is familiar, though not comforting. Taking him back to cold lab walls, and agonising electrical storms through neurons.

It is one point of heat in his left hand, that tells him he's not there. Your head is on the table next to him, asleep as you grasp onto him like he'll disappear without your hand anchored to his.

Caleb thinks for a moment, that he probably hasn't given you reason to believe he wouldn't.

"They didn't stop crying until you stabilised." Zayne speaks as he enters the room. Mugs on a tray, as he places them down out of the way. "At least your recklessness hasn't changed, Caleb."

There's something quite disconcerting about the disapproval he sees in Zayne's cool eyes. There's a familiarity to it, one he's seen multiple times growing up, as the man had tended to wounds he'd gotten trying to impress or amuse you.

Climbing trees, jumping off a roof, trying to fly with his EVOL, standing up to bullies.

Any manner of reasons that had ended up with him with torn skin or bruises, that Zayne had then sat him down and tended to. Bandaged with careful, and far too steady hands for a child.

Zayne goes to hand him a mug, before realising he has no free hands, smiling softly down at you with warm eyes. Caleb feels his heart and chest twinge and twist. For all the ways he knows you better than he believes anyone else has, that he is the only safe harbour for you… he feels like he's banging up against the wall of realisation every day.

It feels like he's been sent out without coordinates for where his home base is. Waiting for you to walk away and leave him behind.

Not needing him, where he knows he still needs you.

Is he so easy to replace?

"You're thinking stupid things again, tin-man." Sylus speaks, pausing his work to reach over for his drink, and to tug Zayne down by his tie to place a kiss of thanks to his forehead, "Always staring like you're waiting for the doors to close in front of you. Loving someone isn't easy. It's a choice."

Caleb wants to snap, that he doesn't need lectures from a criminal, but truthfully what part of his hands aren't caked in blood that marks him one too. Battering against the realisation that every choice he has made, has made him someone you argue with, struggled with. That your heart is kinder than his is, because he only cares for you, and you care so much for so many.

Even though his heart aches, as he goes to pull his hand away from your tight grip, you stir. The three watch as you blink awake, one eye opening to look up at him. A sleepy, soft smile tugging scarred lips up into endearment, as you tighten your hand again. You exhale a 'morning', on an airy voice, and then nestle closer, "I'm glad you're ok Caleb."

He watches as your eyes close and your breathing evens out again, exhaustion clear in the lines on your face, but the strain softened by relief, and feels the deep urge to cry.

"Maybe you should give us a chance to help you. Instead of continuing to close doors on yourself." Zayne offers, indicating where Sylus has resumed his work, fixing Caleb's arm.

Despite himself… the man's work is clean, and careful.

He files it away to think about, but not now. When your hand is so warm in his.

The third time, is when he's watching Rafayel paint your prosthetic. Occasionally, you flinch under the brush, laughter spilling out. When he questions it, you smile at him, mismatched eyes twinkling. "It tickles."

He watches as the fish gets gleeful at this, dipping it back into the metal-safe paint and swirling it up and down your arm. Your laugh escapes you in a boom, and you pull away from him, "Raffy, stop!"

Xavier's head is jostled out of your lap, and you fling yourself forward, to take the brush from the man's hand, painting over his nose, then his cheeks, then his throat. When you're satisfied, you pull away and nod, "What a good piece of art I've created." Sticking your tongue out at him.

Rafayel pouts and pokes your nose in retaliation, taking his brush back to draw a heart and then a fish on your cheek, "But you've smudged my masterpiece." He indicates the smeared paint on your prosthetic.

Caleb has watched this routine several times, every now and then, you need to get the casing of your prosthetic properly cleaned, not just wiped down. When this happens, the 'decoration' Rafayel paints on, has to be replaced. You say this like it's of the utmost importance, and he doesn't really understand.

He would never have thought about decorating his own, hiding it away often, because that's easier. It's better. If he doesn't see it, maybe he doesn't have to think about it. Even if the abyss of sensation reminds him every moment.

Still, he has seen you look down at the finished paintings, turning your arm to smile at them, and the way your eyes soften.

So that day he asks why, why is it so important? While Xavier complains about being disturbed, and finds his way to Rafayel's lap, who uses one hand to brush through his hair, and the other to clean up the mess of your arm.

You look at Rafayel, then back at Caleb, reaching out with your left hand to brush strands of hair away from Xavier's eyes.

He watches the way you tilt your head, the way you flex your fingers, and then the way you turn to look back at him. Serious, and considerate. Like you'd never actually put it into words before, just felt it.

"I didn't like it originally, my arm. It was a reminder of failure, a reminder that I was different." The words ache in Caleb's chest, like a dagger through the heart. He wants to pull you into his arms, tell you you're perfect, but he watches how carefully you hold your arm for Rafayel's work and stills himself. "When Raffy first painted it, it looked pretty. I wanted to look at it." Caleb watches, as the fish takes your metal hand in his and places a kiss to the wrist, before resuming his work.

The brand has gotten softer over time. Less painful.

He doesn't grate and ache and burn, to watch them hold you. He's not sure when he changed so much.

"Over time it just became a routine, it made me like it more. Like my body more, to decorate it. Now I can look at it without the art and not hate it, but I still like to see Raffy's art on my body." You kiss the man in question's head.

"I have a good canvas, cutie."

Xavier nods against Rafayel's lap, "Pretty." is mumbled against his legs.

You look over at Caleb then, eyes bright, hopeful. Warm. He's always likened you to the sun, and every moment you grace him with your presence is a moment he's too lucky, too blessed and too spoiled. "I bet it'd be nice on yours too?"

He notices the fish's eyes flicker to him, sees the careful observation, and forces a laugh through a tight throat, "Maybe." Is all he can offer.

Because truly, wouldn't it be too good for him, to be given the right to love the thing that helped make him a monster.

The fourth time, he brings it up himself. He's watching the stars on the balcony, as Xavier and Sylus play a game of kitty cards they're both far too competitive with. As Zayne reads and Rafayel sketches.

You're in his arms, staring up at the sky, eyes flickering closed as you become more and more drowsy.

As Caleb looks at you, he reaches his right hand, to entwine your metal fingers with his own. Running his thumb over your hand, the ache deep in his bones to do it with his left hand so he can feel it.

He wants to feel it with both. He wants to hold you in both hands and feel complete again.

Instead of staring and willing himself to suddenly know the heat of your skin under his right hand again. Instead of seeing agony in your face when he's in pain, and that's the only time his right hand responds to the sensation of you.

His throat is tight, when he speaks, turning his head slightly to the others, "If you can fix it, then do it."

Caleb is not used to asking for help, or letting anyone see his weakness. He has always been told all through growing up to protect you, that you need him to be strong, that you need him to keep you safe. If he was weak, how could you ever want to rely on him?

He's had to learn through yelling matches, and doors closed in front of you. Through bitten off insults and frustration. Through you leaving and threatening not to come back. Through days of struggling to get himself to breathe, to see you again. To listen to what you were saying, before he could let you walk next to him.

Even if his heart still won't relax. Even if he still thinks about that maze he wants to build, that world just for the two of you.

He doesn't want to capture the butterfly and watch it die in his hands.

He thinks if that happened, he truly would hate himself.

When eyes turn to him, including yours, blinking in disbelief, he turns to face forwards. "If you can, anyway." His voice steady, he forces his heart to be stable, his emotions to stay level. Every part of him is trembling under the weight of being watched by people who see more than he wants them to.

"Sure tin-man. You can trust us." Comes the chuckle from the side.

"I'll get in touch with some specialists." Zayne adds, placing a bookmark in his page and leaving the balcony.

You turn in his arms, so you can sit facing him, hands releasing his, and moving up to hold his cheeks. He's sure there's a blush colouring his cheeks at the way you lean in, small smile twisting and press your lips to his forehead. "You can trust them." You affirm, nestling against his neck, when he finally wraps arms around you. A lump in his throat he fights back, "You can trust me."

He knows, above all other things in this world. Caleb knows he can trust you.

He always has.

He sits through testing, but instead of the kind of tests he'd faced with the Fleet and EVER, you are there. A warm familiar presence that reminds him he's not a lab rat. A weapon. A tool. He's Caleb, he always remembers he's Caleb when you're there.

He sits there while you talk to him, and he follows along with the specialists Zayne has called in, while Sylus and Xavier work on his arm.

Both far more adapted to technology than he'd have known.

It's a slow process, as they adapt and change his circuitry. He sits and he tries to be patient, gritting his teeth through when the pain is clawing, and tries to remember what he's aiming for.

It's always easier when you're holding his hand.

During the time he grows somewhat used to the more constant presence of the others.

Zayne seems to fall back into old habits, of taking care of his childhood friends, though you often now sit him down to make him tea, instead. It doesn't stop him asking questions, 'Are you alright', 'where does it hurt most', 'do you need anything?'. The guilt at how he'd reacted to Zayne on their reunion bites at him most when he sees real warm concern in the man's eyes.

He's been offered snacks by Xavier, while he sits through tests. While it had never crossed his mind to question the safety of them, it was odd being offered the kindness. He isn't sure when he last was.

Rafayel mostly pokes his head in to snipe at Sylus as he works, and occasionally comments on Caleb's 'really bad poker face', as he tries not to respond to the taunt. He always comes with some water though, shoving the glass into Caleb's available hand, and then leaving.

Sylus' idea of comfort is singing while he works, and Caleb often wants to remind the man that doesn't comfort anyone but himself. You sometimes join in though, and he bites back the retort. It's not that out of tune, anyway.

He finds himself face to face with a lot of things, he doesn't feel he has the capacity to process in these moments. Pushing them down to deal with when the agony isn't great, and he's tired after long days.

On the day they finally finish, he feels as though he wants to sleep for weeks afterwards. He's drained and worn and though the tests and the refittings had been nothing as bad as under EVER's hand, it is tiring nonetheless to be changed.

Despite himself, however, he is glad for the careful hands. Though he would never admit this too loud to them.

When Xavier and Sylus step back, putting tools down and do one last check over with the screen next to them. You sit nearby, your leg shaking up and down as you wait, none too patiently.

He's seen you like this before, excited, nervous and stressed. Waiting and waiting and waiting. All the energy built up, ready to be released.

He can't say he doesn't feel the same.

"Ready?"

He nods, but he cannot make himself speak. He's waiting for this moment for too long. When the electronic voice rings out with 'rebooting', he doesn't feel anything. No change, no adjustment, his arm doesn't feel any different.

There's a drop in his stomach, like he's waiting for the realisation that it's failed, that nothing can help, that he'll never feel like anything but a robotic tool for EVER again-

Then there's warmth, as a hand slides into his, squeezing.

His heart jumps, and his throat becomes impossibly tight. Eyes moving to where your hand is inside of his. He can feel the pressure, and as he goes to squeeze, he has to remind himself to be careful, because you're flesh and blood. Warm skin, soft and real against his metal.

You're familiar and you're warm and you're there.

And he can feel you. The weight and the reality.

You wrap your metal arm around him to pull him closer and he cannot release your hand no matter what, because he finally, finally, finally, feels you. Careful cool fingers wipe the tears spilling from his eyes, as you hold him, smiling against his cheek as you pull him as close as you can, as he hiccups.

When he finally releases your hand, it's only so he can run his fingers over every part of you, letting you adjust yourself onto his lap, so that he can run fingers through your hair, over your cheek, your nose, across your lips. When you part them, to exhale, the gust against his hand makes his shoulders jump.

So he places his hand around the back of your neck, and kisses you. Salted tears and gasping desperation, as he traverses metal over the column of your throat, absent through the air he's stealing out of your lungs. Over your arms, that steady yourself around him, over your ribs, feeling every dip and every roll, he squeezes at your thighs to feel the weight in his hands, and gasps. Pulling away only because he needs to, as he rests his forehead on your shoulder.

You run fingers through the back of his hair, over his neck, as he tries to stop shaking. To stop shuddering at all the feeling of you in his arm, your skin against his hand. It's overwhelming and too much, and everything, but never enough. Like his brain could short circuit and he'd die in bliss.

Like he finally found everything he wanted again.

Like he feels whole.

He's acutely aware for the audience, as he sits overwhelmed on the table, so wrapped around you, he doesn't want to ever be two separate people again, and this time when he looks at his metal arm. Where his hand rests on your skin, where he can feel you alive and under his touch, where he sees the flesh give under his grip and can feel it once more.

Maybe he understands why you love to have yours painted.

Maybe he thinks about how he'll let Rafayel paint his own, if he wants.

Maybe he chokes out a thank you to the people he isn't sure he hates anymore.

Maybe you've led him back home once more.

209 notes · View notes

matchavellichor · 2 years ago

Text

A Losing Game

A/N: was in the mood to write pure filth so here's some jealous sebastian smut lul. also i left the context intentionally vague so that i could maybe write a prequel sometime but i hope it's clear they absolutely hate each other loool

Sebastian Sallow x f!MC - NSFW - 4.4k words - ao3

Summary: Watching his long-time rival and dueling partner kiss someone else ignites feelings in Sebastian that has him questioning just how similar hate is to desire.

Tags: Yule Ball, Enemies to Lovers, Pining Sebastian, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Mild Prey/Predator, No Safeword

For the first time in their many years of friendship, Sebastian is the one being dragged to a social event he has no interest in being a part of. Ominis, taking no small amount of pleasure in this, leads them into the Great Hall with an amused smirk on his face, only biting his tongue because he’s respectful of present company. Sebastian frowns.

His robes are scratchy, his date is doused in a nausea-inducing amount of flowery perfume, and there’s not nearly enough firewhiskey in the spiked punch this year.

He tells himself pointedly, as if it’s a matter of public record, that he isn’t looking for her.

Even as his eyes comb over the crowd, and there’s a little pang of disappointment in his gut when he still doesn’t spot her after the third sweep.

“Stop sulking,” Ominis murmurs from beside him. “You look miserable.”

Sebastian proceeds to sulk even more. “How would you know how I look?”

“I’m blind, not oblivious.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes, sitting down at the table the blonde had chosen and preparing himself for an entire night of brooding.

He’d have no qualms in remaining seated in their desolate little corner for the entirety of the evening, but his date—Bianca or Beatrice or, maybe something with a D—has other plans.

She titters something about dancing, and then she’s suddenly tugging on his arm and dragging him towards parquet floors. In no mood to protest, he lets himself get weaved through pairs of students who are doing anything but respecting Headmaster’s Black rule to maintain a Potions textbook length apart.

So much for leaving room for Merlin.

He manages a tight-lipped smile when they stop under a cloud charmed to sprinkle snowflakes, small flurries of white blending into a halo around them. It’s a truly beautiful sight, a winter wonderland of silver and gold englobing them, yet despite this, Sebastian’s demeanor is tight and forced, starkly unhappy.

He pretends he doesn’t understand the reasoning behind his sour mood. Pretends he isn’t thinking about someone else’s hands, someone else’s smell, someone else’s eyes, and the obvious absence of them.

Sebastian feels dreadfully pathetic clinging to the prospect of even simply seeing her as a motivator to suffer through the remainder of the night.

He wonders when he became such a pining, spineless idiot and deduces it must’ve been somewhere during the first dozen times she’d knocked him on his ass in a duel. Surely, a screw was knocked loose then. Or a couple.

Sebastian swallows his displeasure and takes hold of a hand that’s not the right size, that doesn’t have the calluses and rough edges in the places he’s already far too familiar with. It’s easy to fall into pace, but it’s hard to enjoy it. Hard to pretend he’s dancing with someone else.

It’s then, glancing over his date’s shoulder through the haze of floating candles and snowflakes, that he finally catches sight of what he has decidedly not been thinking about all evening.

From the way he stills and all his attention narrows in on one person, you’d think Salazar Slytherin himself just made an appearance butt-naked on a unicycle.

Breath-taking is an understatement. Asphyxiating might be a more valiant contender. Sebastian would be impressed with himself if he managed to get enough oxygen in his lungs to keep his brain functioning for an entire night of staring at her across dance floors.

His eyes comb over every inch of the blood red floor-length gown she has on, head-to-toe, gaze rising to dust over the blush high on her cheekbones, even further up to the gems crested in her hair.

He takes a deep, fortifying breath, though it doesn’t do him any good.

Then, his attention narrows in on the person accompanying her and it’s like his stomach immediately pitches, falls down six flights of stairs, and subsequently plummets into a dark abyss, landing at the bottom with a pathetic, defeated sort of sound.

Because her arm is tucked into the crook of someone else’s elbow, and she’s smiling at something someone else is whispering in her, and despite being only a few feet away at this point, she doesn’t even spare a glance at Sebastian.

Instead, she drapes an arm around her date’s neck, which he reciprocates with a hand at the small of her back, pulls their bodies closer and—

Sebastian squeezes his eyes shut and refuses to look, turning away from what feels like betrayal, though he knows is the farthest thing from it.

Maybe that’s what feels the worst. What makes his mouth taste so bitter he could gag from it. It’s the realization that he has no right to feel so upset about any of it. That he can’t expect anything from her.

That she isn’t his.

His shoulders stiffen and he suddenly stops any movements, letting his hands drop from where they were rested at a chiffon-covered waist, stepping away.

His date calls his name, emitting some cross between a petulant whine and indignant scoff, but he doesn’t really hear her. He’s busy high-tailing towards the drink table and doing the mental math for how many teal-coloured glasses of spiked punch he’ll have to drink to self-induce a coma.

Ominis, with his hell-anointed sixth sense, meets him three-quarters of the way there, falling into step as they weave through pairs of students.

“This is your own doing, you know.”

He’s right, yet Sebastian would still throttle him if there weren’t so many witnesses around. He ignores him.

“Sebastian,” Ominis sighs. “You’re being childish.”

“You aren’t helping.”

“I’m not trying to,” Ominis says. “I thought I’d already made myself clear that I was on her side concerning this.”

Sebastian scowls. “Some friend you are.”

“All you had to do was ask her.”

“Asking her is admitting defeat,” Sebastian mutters over the rim of the glass he just poured himself. “She wouldn’t have ever let me live it down.”

“I don’t understand this game you two play,” Ominis frowns. “Would it have been so hard for you to humble yourself for just a moment?”

Sebastian takes a long drink. “Yes. In front of her, it would’ve been.”

“Then enjoy watching her dance with someone else for the remainder of the evening.”

Sebastian has just about decided to actually throttle Ominis, witnesses be damned, but he’s already making his way back into the crowd, out of reach.

Sebastian groans, yet doesn’t go after him. Refuses to.

From his position on the outskirts of the dance floor, he’s in blissful ignorance of whatever it is she’s doing at the moment. Despite the curiosity eating away at him from the inside, it’s some form of solace that at least he can’t see the smile he’d caught on her face. Can’t see the glow in her eyes, or her hands on her date’s robes, or all the affection he craves so ardently misdirected towards someone else.

Somehow, it’s worse.

And then, as if Fortune, on his damned quarry smiling, has decided Sebastian hasn’t endured enough for one pitiful night already, the steady crescendo of a waltz begins to build.

The crowd pulses and sways in tempo with the symphony, leaving breaches and eyelets, brief openings that he can’t tear his eyes away from, because even if it hurts, he needs to see her again.

That’s how he catches sight of her for the second time that evening. Like the seas parting to reveal a miracle, she finds herself right in his line of vision.

Sebastian conveys the tightening he feels in his chest into an ice-cold glower, features hardened. He prays she’ll just look. Even if it’s something fleeting, a split second of a glance.

Once again, her eyes never make their way anywhere near him.

It’s almost intentional, in a way that drives him insane. As if she knows where he is, and she’s skirting over him pointedly, antagonistically. Sebastian wouldn’t be surprised if it were intentional, a gleaming testimony to all the other ways she manages to get under his skin.

The dancing body of students continues to shift, like a pendulum, back and forth, revealing and concealing. He clings to the momentary sight of her, and still, like a fool, hopes that at some instance she’ll look back. Acknowledge him.

Give him some form of recognition so he doesn’t have to admit defeat so quickly. So that he knows that they’re still playing their game, that he’s not just losing alone.

The composition nears its apex, surrounding gowns and robes reaching a swirling mass of glitter and silks, and something heavy sinks inside of him, an impending sense of foreboding.

He knows what’s coming, somehow.

The orchestra finally reaching its climax.

Her fingers threading through the hairs at the nape of her date’s neck.

Her leaning forward, nose slotting against his, lips hovering over another’s and yet—

He doesn’t look away. Even if it feels like being split open, sternum cracked across the middle, until he’s left with a slick-red, yawning chest cavity.

He can’t look away, because her eyes are open and for the first time in the entire evening, they’re meeting his.

Like most instances involving her, he isn’t sure if he’s winning or losing anymore.

She doesn’t look away, and he can’t bring himself to either. It’s like he’s standing there, split from top to bottom, voluntarily exposed for her to prod at, to ruin. And yet, there’s a bittersweetness to it all.

Her lips aren’t on his, yet she’s looking at him as if she wishes they were.

There’s something taunting in her eyes. Something he might’ve mistaken as a threat if they were in their usual setting, mid-duel in the Undercroft.

A challenge.

It takes him a moment to realize that context shouldn’t matter. This is an invitation for battle, a glaring provocation. He stares.

The sight of her mouth on someone else’s makes bile rise in his throat, makes him so filled with rage and revulsion that he thinks he might suffocate on it all. Yet the sight of her eyes, the sheer amount of longing she’s able to convey in such a short glance, is enough to invigorate him, to channel all his rage and wanting into something else.

His legs move of their own accord.

Her reflexes are as sharp as they are in battle.

The second she sees him coming towards her, she reacts. Murmurs a hurried apology towards her date, who looks so confused Sebastian would almost feel bad for the bloke if he didn’t want to strangle him so violently.

She’s immediately cutting through the crowd towards the opposite direction, her eyes trained on one of the exits. He picks up his speed, but she’s quicker than him, smaller, able to duck through bunches of students with ease, even with her dress hindering her movements.

Adrenaline trickles up his spine. She throws him another glance over her shoulder and smirks, sly and knowing, a look that writhes under his skin in the way her glances always do.

Even if he’s the one chasing her, Sebastian feels awfully like the rodent in their little game of cat and mouse.

They both step into the quiet of the dimly-lit hallway, the sounds of the party bleeding away as the door shuts behind them, casting them in silence.

There’s a split moment where she spins around to look at him, chest heaving. The live-wire tension between them is pulled so taut it’s a miracle the air doesn’t crackle with static.

Neither of them move for a long moment, until her lips curl into a smile.

She breaks into a run and Sebastian doesn’t miss a beat.

He chases after her, his heart pounding with something primal, something instinctive. Like his self-control might slip away from him when he catches her, like he might just sink his teeth into soft flesh, dig his nails into supple skin. She runs as if she’s just as aware of this fact as he is.

He almost wants to punish her for it. Bite and scratch and mark as if in vengeance for her thinking she could ever get away from him. For her forgetting that she’s anything but his, as if she should simply know it by now.

She’s fast, but she’s nearly tripping over the dress she has fisted in her hands, and her heels don’t help. All it takes is for her to stumble around a corner and he’s on her, grabbing her gown, pulling her towards him.

He spins her around, and she grunts when he slams her against the wall. Teeth bared, strands of the elegant updo she’d had her hair in falling down over her shoulders, glittery makeup smeared down her cheeks — she looks like something savage.

For some reason, it makes something deep-set inside Sebastian ache.

“Let go,” she grits, struggling against the hold he has on her wrists, under the weight of his body that has her molded to the wall.

His grip only tightens, frustration simmering low in his gut. Sebastian has never known desire like this, shadowed by fury. Want and anger, love and hate, repulsion and obsession.

“I know what you’re doing,” he hisses.

She stills her thrashing in favor of looking up at him through her lashes with an expression so innocent, it’s crucifying.

“Attending a dance?”

His jaw sets. “Don’t get smart with me.”

“Why, are you having a hard time keeping up?”

He stares at her for a long moment, jaw working in tandem with his thoughts. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and she tilts her head, amused at how worked up he’s gotten.

“I know what you’re doing,” she says.

“And what’s that?”

“Thinking about how badly you want to kill me, probably,” she says. Her eyes fall to his lips and his breath stops in his throat. “Or kiss me. Haven’t quite worked out which one yet.”

“So certain that they’re mutually exclusive,” he murmurs, his gaze falling to mimic hers despite himself. “I think you forget that I’m very multi-faceted.”

“That I’m aware of,” she tilts her chin up, almost as if inviting him to press his mouth to hers, a siren’s call. “You manage to be mind-numbingly stupid and brilliantly obnoxious, all at the same time.”

He scoffs. “And you manage to be the most infuriating person on the planet.”

She seems starkly proud of the title. “What can I say, I invoke passion.”

“You invoke homicidal thoughts.”

“Not the only kinds of thoughts I invoke in you, is it, Sallow?”

He reddens. He’s spent too many showers hunched over his own fist with silencing charms plastered around the tiles for his response to be anything more than a blurted, evocative reaction.

“Anything you think I feel for you is precisely the opposite. I fucking despise you.”

He only notes a split second after that it’s not an outright denial.

Evidently, so does she. Because then, as if she were made to crawl under his skin, writhe underneath it until his nerves were a mess, she smiles.

What he truly despises is how pretty he finds it.

“You don’t hate me.”

He sneers. “Is that so?”

“Hate isn’t the opposite of love. Indifference is,” she leans in. “And I’d hardly call chasing me through the castle simply because I kissed someone else…indifferent.”

He decides then — or more accurately, his too-horny, too-angry, too-impulsive brain decides for him — to wipe the pleased grin off her face the most effective way he knows how.

With a hand fisted in her hair and his mouth crashing against hers.

It isn’t tender or sweet, nor the remotest definition of kind, but it’s fitting and dreadfully familiar, because it’s not like they’ve ever been nice to one another.

He lets go of her wrists to give her some fighting chance, because he’s cruel, but he prides himself on being fair. Instead of pushing him away, or going for her wand, or doing anything to indicate she doesn’t want this, however, she pulls him in. As if she knows exactly how to bring him to his knees, in any and all contexts, and revels in any opportunity to destroy him.

He almost thinks it’s a trap, another one of her grating ploys, but when she tangles her fingers in his hair and drags her nails down his scalp and kisses him back with just as much fervor as he does, it’s hard to believe it’s simply a farce.

Her tongue finds his and Sebastian wonders if they’ll ever do anything together that doesn’t mimic a battle. She fights for dominance in every stroke of her tongue against his, and his stubbornness refuses to grant her it.

“Fuck,” he groans against her mouth, because he’s learning just how much she kisses the same way she duels.

Dirty, unfair, brutal. Like she’s never been afraid of blood, or getting messy, or breaking things.

She stokes a fire that’s been simmering inside him until it’s red-hot and all-consuming, flames licking at the inside of his throat. He pulls her bottom lip between his teeth and bites until he tastes copper, finding some sick form of satisfaction at the pained little whine she lets out.

“You kissed him,” he pants, and there’s something raw in his voice. He rests his forehead against hers and stares at the crimson pooling on her lip. “You kissed him.”

She swallows. “I did.”

Sebastian despises how hurt he sounds. “I could kill him.”

“You won’t.”

“I could.”

“I know,” she nods, chest heaving against his. Her voice grows suddenly soft, until it’s barely a whisper. “I wanted it to be you.”

He groans, almost pained. “Did you?”

She nods.

“Has he ever touched you?”

She shakes her head.

“Tell the truth,” he says, fingers threading through the tangled remains of her chignon, tilting her face up towards him so he can meet her eyes. “Did you let him touch you?” He presses a leg between her thighs, barely able to feel her through layers of tulle. “Here?”

“No,” she gasps from the contact, nails scrambling to drag down his forearm. “Never.”

“Fuck,” he sighs, and tips his head down to press against her throat, drags his lips over her jaw. “Only me, hm? Say it.”

She shakes her head and his gaze darkens, pulling back to tighten his fingers still tangled in her hair, to tear a whimper from the back of her throat.

“No? Who then?”

“No one,” she whispers, and despite the tight angle her neck is at, despite the fear dancing behind her eyes, she smiles up at him again. “You haven’t touched me yet, though, have you?”

She’s baiting him, and he’s aware of it, and still it manages to work.

He feels his self-restraint slipping through the cracks of his fingers like sand. There’s traces of scarlet on her teeth he wants to drag his tongue over. He wants to suck the marrow from her bones.

He spins her around, presses her cheek into the cool flagstone of the corridor they’re in, and molds his body to hers.

“S-shit,” she curses when his patience wears thin and he yanks at the fabric hiding her body away from his, pulling at the skirt of her gown until it rips. “Asshole.”

“Looks better this way.”

His fingers coast up her thighs to hook into her knickers, tugging them down before she can protest. She gasps and he smiles against her cheek, pushing her hand away when she tries to cover herself.

He nips at her ear, his hand reaching between her legs to cup her sex, reveling in the way she tries to squirm away from him.

“What’s wrong? Going to act shy now?”

“Someone could see,” she grits, though something in her tone tells him she’s not going to stop him.

“Wouldn’t they be lucky.”

His breath stutters when he finally dips his fingers between her folds and finds how soaked she is. Something about the revelation is dizzying, the notion that she could possibly want this as badly as he does. He grinds his hips into her arse so she’s just as aware of how gone he is.

Immediately, his hand is fumbling with his belt, the other pressing bruises into her hip to keep her still. He kicks her feet open wider, spreading her for him. His fingers flex on her hip in anticipation.

“You have full permission to use any Unforgivables you want on me if you want me to stop,” he murmurs, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling deeply. He groans. “You’re not getting me off of you in any other way.”

When she doesn’t make any move for her wand he positions himself at her entrance, rubbing to coat himself in her fluids. Her breathing is heavy against the wall she’s pressed against, her gasps coming out in soft little pants. He revels in them for a long moment.

Then, he’s impaling her and all of her breathing stops. Replaced instead by a strangled sort of sound, as if he’d managed to knock out all of the air in her lungs with a single thrust. His jaw falls slack.

He manages to composure himself enough to murmur in her ear, voice hoarse. “Hurts?”

She chokes out a sob, nodding weakly. Her head falls against the wall, clenching around him as she tries to adjust to his size.

His hips snap forward again, even harsher this time, burying himself to the hilt and tearing a yelp out of her throat. “Good.”

“S–Sebastian—”

He pauses, so deep inside her he can feel every little pulse, hips flush against her arse. “Want me to stop?”

Miraculously, she shakes her head. It’s never like her to back down from a fight, after all.

“Of course,” he chuckles, though it sounds uncharacteristically strained, imprecise. Like he’s losing his grip. His head falls to her shoulder and he moans, grunting feverishly against her skin as he starts a brutal, unforgiving pace. “You can take it. Look so pretty taking it.”

“Please,” she whines. “Too much, I–I can’t,”

“You’re a tough girl,” he whispers, tone vicious despite his words. “You’re going to shut your fucking mouth and take my cock.”

She nods fervently, obediently, and Sebastian thinks he deserves a medal for not finishing right then. He yanks her hips back from the wall, shifting the angle and she gasps when he feels him push in even deeper.

“Oh my God,” she moans. “Good — feels s’good, yes, yes. Plea–please don’t stop.”

“Fuck,” he grunts, voice sandpaper-rough. He snakes a hand to her front to rub tight little circles between her legs. “Look at you babbling. Dumb little cock-drunk slut. Can’t even think properly with me inside you like this, can you?”

Her response is too garbled for coherence, a mess of moans and pleas. He groans in a way that’s almost just as saturated with desperation, that tells her she’s not alone in her unraveling. He pulls her head back to smash his lips to her, stifling all kinds of confessions that threaten to escape him.

She breaks the kiss to gasp for air and his fingers swirl against her just right. She tightens. “Gonna — m‘gonna cum,”

“Yeah? Come for me, baby,” his voice breaks on the word, and he’s aware he’s practically begging. He’s too far gone to care, so he scrapes a kiss to her heat-flushed cheek and properly pleads.

“Please. So fucking beautiful. Let me see your pretty face when you come undone for me,” he stares down at her through half-lidded eyes and briefly contemplates the possibility that he’s died and gone to heaven when she looks back at him. “That’s it, look at me.”

He studies her as he sends her over the edge and pulls himself over along with her, her lashes fluttering as she struggles to keep her eyes on his.

The sight is enough to ruin him.

Her makeup a mess from the tear tracks running through them, the hair fisted in his hands in an even worse state, and somehow— she still manages a lopsided smile, as if beyond pleased with herself.

He’s faintly aware of the fact she’s won. He makes peace with the realization.

There’s nothing but the sound of their heavy breathing to fill the silence in the hallway as Sebastian tries to regain his bearings, still buried inside her. Neither of them move for a long moment, and Sebastian likens it to the peace following a war, a brief period of prosperity.

He’s conscious that it’s temporary.

She winces when he finally pulls out of her, their shared spend trickling down the insides of her thighs, her knees nearly giving out to the point he has to hold her up, even if his own legs feel dreadfully unstable.

It doesn’t take her long for her to detach her body from his own, to duck under his arm and slip away. Panic suddenly seizes his chest, dread trickling up his spine. For some reason, he can’t bear to watch her leave. He opens his mouth to say something—an apology, maybe—but she beats him to it.

“That was fun,” she says plainly, glancing back at him over her shoulder. It’s as if they’d just finished another duel. Hardly anything to bat an eye at. Sebastian is at a remarkable loss for words.

She hasn’t continued down the hallway, but she looks as if she’s prepared to.

He’s faintly aware of the fact he probably looks like a fish right now, jaw still slack.

When he doesn’t say anything, she turns her attention to righting her underthings and fixing the tattered remains of her gown. He watches her.

“Goodnight, Sebastian.”

Suddenly sprung to life by the threat of her absence, he takes a step forward. “I’ll walk you back.”

She snorts. “Ever the gentleman.”

“Unless, you’d like to, uh,” he stares down at his shoes, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. “I could transfigure something for us in the Undercroft.”

She looks amused. “My god, you’re insatiable.”

He reddens. “I didn’t mean—oh, Salazar, to sleep…I meant to sleep.”

She turns to face him fully and raises her brows. “You’re asking me if I’d like to forego my own bed in order to spend the night with you in a dusty cellar?”

Mortification washes over him. Why would she? He should’ve kept his mouth shut and walked her to her dorm room instead of deluding himself with the notion that this could’ve been anything more than a quick fuck.

She stares at him expectantly and his fingers twitch at his side with the desire to grab his wand and promptly Avada himself.

It’s then that she decides to saunter over to him, taking her time, until she’s right beside him and can tuck her arm into his. She gestures forward, almost impatient.

“Go on then. I’m little spoon.”

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy smut #hogwarts legacy imagine #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #dark sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian x mc #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3

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lilyinavalley · 1 month ago

Text

Refractions🪞

𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎 - 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙼𝚒𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛

You go on a mission with Sinostra's Ghouls, but as usual something goes wrong. Taiga gets trapped in his own psyche, where past, present and future are nothing more than words written in pencil. Thanks to the anomaly's power he can relive some memories that he had completely erased - Will he be able to uncover even more, especially about his kitty-cat?

Taiga Hoshibami x mc Ao3 Ao3 versione italiana Warnings! stigma speculations [Masterlist] Welcome to my new series!

The velvety notes of a jazz song sweeten the evening in this discreet nightclub. Violet lights caress the rosy cheeks of people speaking in hushed tones among the scattered tables. Sparkling glasses of the most diverse shapes are languidly brought to the lips by fingers adorned with priceless rings. These people, with scarlet-stained lips and immaculately trimmed beards, exude wealth from every pore.

From a table in the corner of the room, I’m closely observing everything unfolding in front of me. It feels like watching a Manet painting—people chatting with honey-drenched words pouring from their lips, while pure poison drips from their eyes.

An olive, skewered by a toothpick, floats alone in my Martini. From time to time, I bring it to my lips to avoid drawing attention, without drinking a single drop. I can’t afford to lose clarity.

“Romeo, have you noticed anything strange?”

I say in a bored tone.

Romeo: “No! What a waste of time…”

Taiga: “Lulù’s right, let’s go look for this anomaly ourselves.”

Ritsu: “Absolutely not, we can’t draw attention. Do you want to cause chaos like last time? If we stir up trouble, we lose four times as much time.”

At my table there are also the three ghouls from Sinostra, elegantly dressed in tuxedos—as usual chosen according to Romeo’s impeccable taste. Even my midnight blue evening gown isn’t bad. The only thing that worries me are my high heels, which could be a problem if we have to run.

We’re here on a mission assigned by the headmaster, and as usual, I’m the inspector. In this venue, at least one person vanishes every night. After some investigation, the Darkwick agents discovered rumors about an individual who lures people by promising to let them relive memories from their past, asking for nothing in return. Those who agree vanish without a trace. With the possibility of a serial killer ruled out, we’re left with the assumption that it’s an anomaly.

And so here we are, pretending to drink while trying to understand what’s going on—everyone except Taiga, who’s already on his third whiskey and seems completely uninterested in the mission.

So nothing out of the ordinary...

It’s already a miracle he hasn’t vanished to do his own thing. So it’s fine...

While I absentmindedly watch a couple whisper sweet words to each other, I finally notice something strange: a woman, sitting at the table behind them, looks distraught and is speaking with a man in his thirties.

They’re too far away for me to hear the conversation, but I can do a bit of lip-reading.

…Come with me…memories…offer…

Excited, I elbow Romeo.

“Romeo, look! I think we found him.”

Annoyed by the sudden blow, Romeo glares at me, but still leans in to align his gaze with mine.

Romeo: “You’re right, BB. So you are useful sometimes.”

Not impressed by the vulgar nickname he’s been using for months, I don’t even bother to respond.

Ritsu: “So, what do we do? Follow them?”

“Yes, but not all together.”

Taiga: “I’ll go. I’m sick of sitting around doing nothing.”

Romeo: “No way, BTH! I’m not letting you destroy or devour another anomaly. This time, we need to capture it.”

With a theatrical sigh, Taiga throws his head back and downs the rest of his whiskey.

Ritsu: “We better decide quickly, or we’ll lose them.”

I watch the movements of the potential victim and think for a moment.

Yes, this is probably the best idea

“Taiga and I will go.”

I set my drink down decisively and stand up.

“It’s better to keep him close and give him something to do than let him cause trouble out of boredom. Don’t you agree?”

Ritsu and Romeo stay seated, thoughtful. They don’t argue, but they’re not fully convinced either. Not that it matters—Taiga doesn’t give them time to disagree. He stands right after me, taking my arm.

Taiga: “Gyahahaha, let’s go, kitty-cat, before we lose them.”

Romeo: “Keep your phone handy. Call us if anything happens.”

“Of course. Talk soon.”

No one pays us much attention as we leave our table. Without raising suspicion, we begin following the woman and the suspicious man from a safe distance.

We walk down a long, winding corridor. When the couple turns a corner, we follow, leaving the previous one behind.

The dim lighting, black carpet, and mahogany-red walls create an eerie atmosphere. The melancholic music fades into the distance. The sound of my heels is muffled by the soft floor, and an unsettling silence surrounds our steady breathing.

The eyes of the crowd have long since left us. Yet, my hand is still wrapped around Taiga’s arm. He doesn’t show any sign of wanting to let go either. If I didn’t know him, I might think he was helping me walk in these heels.

Let me dream...

After four turns, they stop in front of a door. The man opens it and, with a half-bow, invites the woman in, the he enters after her, closing the door behind.

We wait a few seconds—no sound of a key turning.

Perfect, he left it unlocked.

Taiga: “So, what’s the plan, kitty-cat?”

“We approach the door and try to listen. Then we call the others and decide what to do. It’s better not to act alone without informing them.”

I look into Taiga’s eyes, but they show no emotion. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing. Even if he did show something, he remains highly unpredictable—calm one moment, unhinged the next. His mustard-colored irises are fixed on me, silently. I start to feel uneasy. Sometimes his empty stare is even more piercing than his crazed one. It’s like he’s rummaging through your soul while also looking straight through you.

Unable to bear the pressure any longer, I turn toward the door.

“Let’s hurry.”

We approach the room quietly. I lean my ear against the door, making as little noise as possible. Through a few centimeters of wood, I can hear faint voices. The room must be small, otherwise I wouldn’t hear them this clearly.

“…I just have to go through this mirror, right?…”

“…Exactly, miss. Once inside, you’ll finally reunite with your son…”

“…And you want nothing in return? Nobody does things for free in this world. Who are you?…”

“…I’m just a gentleman trying to bring peace to lost souls. You should feel lucky to have found me. After all, what do you have left in this life? Would you rather suffer in solitude until death?…”

A long pause follows that statement. I turn to Taiga, who is also listening, and see that his brows are furrowed.

A terrible premonition gives me the chills…

Whispering so that the two behind the door don’t hear, I lean into Taiga’s ear.

“Taiga, is anything wr—”

I don’t even finish before he flings open the door I’m leaning on, causing me to fall flat inside.

My heart races—from both the shock and the fear of what’s about to happen.

The two inside turn toward us, startled.

Taiga pulls out his special artifact and points his submachine gun at the man.

Taiga: “Step away from the mirror, bastard.”

The man smirks defiantly and disappears into the mirror in a violet cloud.

Taiga groans in frustration, lowers his weapon, and turns to me.

Taiga: “Tsk, take care of the woman. I’m going after that bastard.”

I leap to my feet and step closer, keeping a two-meter distance.

Just in case...

“Don’t even think about it. Stay put. We’re calling the others. You have to stop acting before thinking. One day it’ll get you killed.”

Frustrated, I open my shoulder bag to grab my phone and call the others. As I raise my head— Taiga is gone.

Only I remain in the room now, along with the woman still in shock on the floor, and a large mirror with an ornate golden frame on the wall across from the door.

It’s my fault. What the hell was I thinking bringing Taiga? I’m an idiot. Yes, a complete idiot!

I approach the mirror. As soon as I look into it, I stumble back, shocked.

“What the hell?...”

Instead of my reflection, I see Taiga—standing, head lowered, eyes closed.

I try calling out to him, but there’s no response.

Better not touch anything—or I’ll get pulled in too.

Frustrated, I press my hands to my face and rub my eyes in circles. I inhale, exhale deeply, then call Romeo—bracing for the ear-splitting scream I know is coming.

Shit.

Once I cross the mirror, I’m greeted by absolute nothingness—I'm suspended in a place without boundaries, no way to tell up from down, no shapes, no corners. Everything is black. The only thing I can see clearly is my own body.

Which doesn’t make a damn bit of sense, considering there’s nothing illuminating it.

With no other options, I try walking. There’s no solid ground under my feet, I feel like I’m floating in midair, yet somehow I can move forward.

The kitty-cat is probably pissed off as hell, but following the anomaly isn’t the only reason I threw myself in here.

Because of my stigma, I feel like I’m living in the eye of a hurricane—my memories are swept away by its violent currents. Sometimes they flash before my eyes, only to be sucked away again by its centripetal force.

Maybe here, I can trick this curse. If not, I’ll just destroy everything and get out.

Simple.

I’ve been walking for almost an hour when I finally see a white glow in the distance. I pick up the pace, and soon I find myself at the center of a strange art gallery. Instead of paintings, there are enormous rectangular mirrors suspended in the void, arranged in two parallel rows that seem to stretch into infinity—or at least, so far they blur into the surrounding darkness.

With hesitant steps, I approach the first mirror on my left. At first, I see only my reflection. Then the image distorts, and a kind of video begins to play.

Romeo, the kitty-cat, and a familiar guy with ash-gray hair and blue eyes are arguing with each other, but they move their lips without producing a sound. Every now and then, they look in my direction—as if they really are speaking to me.

So these are my memories…?

In the other mirrors, countless different scenes are reflected. Some familiar, others completely wiped from my brain.

I continue forward, staying in the middle of the two rows. In most of the scenes, Romeo is there in various stages of fury, yelling at the screen—or rather, at me.

Then the scenes shift: bloodbaths, remnants of anomalies I was devouring on the floor, poker tables, and memories of a past I don’t want to remember.

Further ahead, the kitty-cat starts to appear more and more often. A mischievous grin spreads across my face—her terrified expression always cheers me up.

In many memories she stays in the background, hidden in Romeo’s shadow. Then little by little, she starts to gain courage, stepping into the foreground, talking to me, even getting mad.

But at a certain point, something changes. The bloodstained and violent memories are gradually replaced by the kitty-cat’s innocent face, caught in various activities.

Her sitting on the grass, sipping a drink.

Her laughing carefree in front of a Sinostra slot machine.

Her napping on the Galaxy Express, and my hand brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

Something’s off.

I stop in front of one mirror. In this "memory," the kitten seems a few years older, her hair longer. Wrapped in sheets, she’s lying in bed reading a book. Then she looks up—subtle expression lines frame her face. She gazes in my direction with an expression I’ve never seen before, reaches out a hand toward me, gets closer—and then everything goes black.

…

These aren’t memories of the past—or the present. This must be the future I saw… and then forgot.

?: “I’ve never seen a corridor so vast and chaotic.”

I spin around and see the man I’d been chasing earlier just a few meters away. This time, a white mask covers his entire face. I reach for my artifact, but it’s gone—just like everything else I brought with me.

?: “Welcome to the realm of your consciousness. Here, you can’t bring anything but your soul.”

I glare at him without saying a word. I’m not in the mood to argue with an anomaly.

?: “Oh, come on, don’t act tough. I know you’re curious.”

The man steps closer to the mirror where the kitty-cat is still immersed in whatever story she's reading.

?: “I know perfectly well you and your friends came here to eliminate or contain me, but I’ve never hurt anyone. In the end, the people I bring here choose to stay of their own free will.”

He turns his back to me and walks toward the beginning of my memories.

?: “Come with me.”

I shouldn’t be listening to a fucking anomaly, but something urges me forward—a sharp temptation prodding me from behind. So I shove my hands in my pockets and follow him.

He stops in front of a memory where the kitty-cat is sitting at the end of a worn wooden pier, still wearing her Darkwick uniform—must be a recurring memory.

Next to her, a pair of shoes and a wicker basket full of fruit.

?: “To relive this moment, all you have to do is step through the mirror. You’ll exit when the memory itself ends.”

Taiga: “Do I look like a fucking idiot to you?”

A laugh echoes from under the anomaly’s mask. He draws a vertical line in the air with his index finger, opening a kind of portal. On the other side, the kitty-cat is on the phone, and the older woman from before is sitting on the ground with her back against the wall.

?: “The exit is this way. The choice is yours.”

And with that, he vanishes into nothingness again.

…

I turn my back to the exit and tentatively touch the mirror’s surface. As soon as I brush it with my fingers, they pass through—rippling the image with tiny waves that expand outward in circles.

Slowly, I push my whole arm through, but as soon as I reach the elbow, some unknown force pulls me entirely inside.

And once again, I’m swallowed by darkness.

Dividers by: @strangergraphics

#tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker x reader #taiga hoshibami #taiga hoshibami x reader #taiga hoshibami x mc #tkdb

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anna-the-undertaker · 10 months ago

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Do you have hc for Solomon with a teen apprentice? (Platonic obviously) Thanks if you do this♡

Solomon & Teen Apprentice MC

A Chaotic Mentor with a Purpose: Solomon thrives in chaos, and that’s exactly how he teaches. When MC first becomes his apprentice, they quickly learn that there are no structured lessons or neatly written textbooks. Instead, Solomon prefers throwing them straight into the deep end. One minute, MC might be practicing basic spells, and the next, they’re scrambling to contain a magical explosion caused by one of Solomon’s half-baked experiments. Solomon watches with that mischievous grin, completely at ease while everything around him is in disarray. "You’ve got to be prepared for anything," he’ll say with a chuckle. "The best way to learn magic is to see what happens when things go wrong." But even as chaos swirls, there’s a method to his madness. Solomon is always watching, guiding with subtle corrections, making sure MC learns through experience. He believes in trial by fire because that’s how he learned—and in his mind, it’s the only way to become truly skilled in magic.

Endearing Moments Hidden in the Chaos: Amid all the pranks and unpredictability, Solomon has his softer moments. After a particularly rough day of training—when nothing seems to be going right for MC—he’ll sit with them, his usual playful tone replaced by something gentler. "You’re doing better than you think," he’ll say, handing them a cup of tea with a knowing smile. It’s in these quiet moments that Solomon lets his guard down, sharing pieces of his life that no one else gets to hear. Stories from centuries ago, about the mistakes he made when he was younger, and the people he’s met along the way. "I didn’t get everything right the first time either," he admits, surprising MC with his vulnerability. "But that’s what magic is—making mistakes and learning from them." And even though Solomon usually plays the role of the jokester, in these moments, it’s clear how deeply he cares about MC’s progress and well-being.

A Father Figure in Disguise: Though Solomon never outright calls himself a father figure, his actions speak louder than words. He’s protective in subtle ways—making sure MC eats properly (even if his own cooking is questionable), giving them a stern talking-to when they push themselves too hard, and staying up late when they’re struggling with a particularly difficult spell. When MC feels overwhelmed or insecure about their abilities, Solomon’s there to reassure them, but in his own, teasing way. "You’ve got potential," he says with a grin, ruffling their hair. "And you’ll get there eventually. Just don’t expect to be as great as me anytime soon." He acts like it’s all a joke, but the affection in his words is unmistakable. For Solomon, who has lived for centuries, MC is a refreshing reminder of what it’s like to be young and eager to learn. They bring out a side of him that’s more nurturing, even if he’d never admit it.

Solomon’s Pranks—A Lesson in Mischief: Solomon’s love for pranks is well-known, and he sees no reason to hold back just because MC is his apprentice. In fact, he sees it as an essential part of their training. One day, MC might be practicing a simple levitation spell, only for Solomon to tweak the spell behind their back so that objects start flying around the room uncontrollably. "Oh, you didn’t know that could happen?" he says with a laugh, watching as MC frantically tries to get everything under control. "Consider it a lesson in improvisation." Another time, he’ll give them a seemingly ordinary potion to brew, but as soon as they finish, the liquid turns into rainbow-colored bubbles that float around the room, popping harmlessly in MC’s face. Solomon just watches, grinning the whole time, enjoying the chaos. "Magic should be fun, too," he’ll say afterward, handing them a towel to wipe off the soap-like residue. "If you can’t laugh at it, you’re not doing it right."

MC Gets Even—Their Own Pranks: MC eventually catches on to Solomon’s chaotic nature and starts pranking him back, much to his delight. After one too many magical mishaps caused by their mentor, MC decides to get revenge. During one of their lessons, they cast a spell that turns Solomon’s hair into a giant, poofy cloud of pink cotton candy. At first, Solomon doesn’t realize what’s happened, too busy explaining the intricacies of spellcasting, but when MC starts giggling uncontrollably, he catches a glimpse of himself in a nearby mirror. His expression goes from confusion to amusement, and then full-on laughter. "Touché," he says, admiring the ridiculous sight. "I see you’re learning more than just magic." He’s genuinely proud of MC for getting the upper hand, and their playful banter only strengthens their bond. In fact, Solomon encourages their pranks, seeing them as proof that MC is becoming more confident in their abilities.

Accidentally Calling Him 'Dad': The first time MC calls Solomon "Dad," it’s completely unintentional. They’ve been working together for hours on a complicated spell, and Solomon’s been unusually patient, walking them through each step with care. After finally getting it right, MC, exhausted and grateful, mumbles, "Thanks, Dad," without even realizing it. The room goes silent for a moment, and MC’s eyes go wide as they realize what they’ve just said. They expect Solomon to laugh or tease them mercilessly, but instead, he just looks at them with a soft smile. "I suppose that’s not the worst thing you could call me," he says, his voice unusually gentle. For once, there’s no joke, no prank—just a moment of quiet understanding between them. Though neither of them acknowledges it directly, there’s a shift in their relationship after that. Solomon doesn’t bring it up again, but from then on, his protectiveness over MC becomes a little more obvious, his care a little more deliberate.

Challenging MC in Unexpected Ways: Solomon believes that the best way to learn magic is through challenges, and he’s not one to go easy on MC. One day, without warning, he teleports them to a mysterious, enchanted forest and tells them to find their way back using nothing but the skills they’ve learned. It’s a test of everything they’ve practiced—spellcasting, critical thinking, and, most importantly, trusting their instincts. MC stumbles at first, but Solomon’s voice echoes through the trees, offering cryptic hints and riddles, pushing them to solve the puzzles on their own. When they finally make it out, tired but triumphant, Solomon is there waiting with his usual grin. "Took you long enough," he says, though the pride in his eyes is unmistakable. "But you did well. See? You’re getting stronger every day."

Affection Hidden in the Chaos: Though Solomon’s default mode is chaotic, his affection for MC is always present, even if it’s hidden beneath layers of teasing and pranks. He shows it in small ways, like making sure they have a cup of tea ready after a long day of training or draping a blanket over their shoulders when they fall asleep during late-night study sessions. He never makes a big deal out of these gestures, often brushing them off with a casual, "You looked cold," or "Can’t have my apprentice catching a cold." But MC knows better. Solomon’s care might be subtle, but it’s there in every little thing he does. And though he’ll never say it out loud, he’s proud of the bond they’ve built together.

The Disaster That Is Cooking Together: Every now and then, Solomon tries to teach MC how to cook, though it’s less of a lesson and more of a catastrophe. Solomon’s cooking skills are, to put it kindly, disastrous. But that doesn’t stop him from enthusiastically throwing ingredients into a pot and declaring, "This is going to be amazing!" MC, already skeptical, watches as the mixture turns an alarming shade of green. When the dish finally finishes, it looks like something out of a horror story, and MC can’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Solomon takes a bite, makes a face, and then bursts into laughter himself. "Okay, maybe I’m not the best chef," he admits, "but hey, at least it’s memorable, right?" Cooking together becomes a tradition of sorts, where neither of them expects the food to be edible, but they have fun with it anyway.

Solomon’s Quiet Protectiveness: While Solomon’s chaotic nature often takes center stage, his protectiveness over MC becomes more obvious the longer they work together. He’s not one to hover or coddle them, but if MC is ever in danger or overextends themselves, Solomon steps in without hesitation. During one particularly dangerous magical experiment, when a spell goes wrong and nearly backfires, Solomon is there in an instant, casting a protective barrier around MC without a second thought. He plays it off later, acting like it was no big deal, but the look of concern in his eyes lingers longer than usual. "Next time, don’t push yourself so hard," he says, his tone light but with an underlying seriousness. "I’m supposed to be the chaotic one, remember?"

The Bond Between Them: Over time, the relationship between Solomon and MC deepens. What started as a mentor-apprentice dynamic slowly evolves into something more familial. Solomon continues to be his unpredictable, mischievous self, always pushing MC to their limits and challenging them in unexpected ways. But there’s a mutual respect that grows between them—MC learns to appreciate Solomon’s unconventional teaching methods, while Solomon grows attached to MC in ways he didn’t expect. For all his centuries of experience, MC brings something new into Solomon’s life: a sense of connection and responsibility that he hasn’t felt in a long time. He watches with pride as MC grows into their abilities, knowing that, despite all the chaos, he’s helped shape them into a powerful sorcerer.

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me mc #obey me solomon

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glubglubgurgle · 3 months ago

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bruised apples (con.) CHAPTER 10

caleb's willing to wait forever for you, but why would you like someone else?

pairings: Caleb/unnamed afab MC

tags: NSFW!!! fluff and romance, dry humping, fingering, teasing, over the pants action...caleb pov third person, established relationship

word count (C10): 1.9k

a/n!: cross posted on ao3! this is my first time posting a fic on tumblr...idk how to format everything prettily like everyone else TT this is also my first time writing a fic in forever and first time writing anything smutty in general. there is def some grammar issues...sorry!!! but i hope u enjoy anyways :3

Chapter 1-9 HERE

ONGOING!! Chapter 10 below!

Chapter 10

The cool breeze outside was miles different from the stuffy air inside the shooting range. A lot happened that day, and Caleb was beginning to doubt if he was even awake. He spent the night before freaking out, and now everything he was worried about floated away. He looked up at the sky and the street lamps to make sure nothing was hazy and a sign that he was hallucinating. Then her hand squeezed his, grounding him again.

“You’re probably so bummed that I beat you, sore loser.” She cheesed at him, stopping the two of them from walking. She reached up to poke his cheek, sticking her tongue out.

Caleb couldn’t resist from leaning down to grab her tongue with his teeth into a deep kiss. A small groan of surprise came from her before she let go of his hand to wrap around his neck, tiptoeing. His hand behind her head, pushing her closer to him and tilting her head to get even deeper.

Her hands move down from his neck, lightly caressing every exposed inch of him, making him shiver. They lowered to his chest for a bit and then she slightly pushed him away. Breathless, she asked, “What if someone sees us…we’re in the middle of the walkway.”

There was an uncontrollable jump in his pants, like he secretly really wanted that to happen. “Let them.” He said, swooping in again, a deeper kiss, like he wanted the two of them to merge together. His other hand roamed down her side to sit above her hip, squeezing lightly. Her body was flushed against his, and there was no way she didn’t feel what was happening below.

And he knew this was the case when her right hand trailed down. Pulling away, she looked up at him, “Can’t we go on a date now…?” The intentions behind her words, extremely evident.

Caleb smirked, shaking his head. He pulled her into a hug, speaking just above a whisper into her ear. “You have to be patient, Pipsqueak. We already ate, too. You can wait until tomorrow, can’t you? Be a good girl.” Pulling back, he placed a kiss on her forehead and then peeled away from her. Grabbing her hand, he started walking them back to his dorm. He may have acted patient, but he was fighting his own inner demons to not take her right then and there. He wanted to make it special for her and show her that he wasn’t just in it for the physicallities. And he wanted her to feel loved and appreciated. His self-control was nearing empty, and he knew that hers was already gone. He had no idea how he was going to get through the night with her right beside him.

As they made it inside the dorm room, her phone rang. Caleb took a quick glance and saw the name.

Eric.

She awkwardly looked at him and her hand reached for the door knob. “I’m just gonna ta-”

His hand was faster. He pressed the door shut, making it impossible for her to open it. “You can take it here, Pipsqueak. Unless you’re hiding something.” He took a few steps towards her, sandwiching her between the door and him. His eyes darkened as he looked at her from above. Despite the fact that the two solidified their relationship, a large wave of jealousy and possessiveness came over him.

Her breath hitched as she looked up at him. She gave him a small, hesitant nod and then brought the phone to her ear. “H-hey.”She answered, still making eye contact with Caleb.

He took his free hand and used it to lift her chin, and then leaned down to her free ear. “Speakerphone.”

Obeying, she removed the phone from her ear, hitting the speaker button and Eric’s voice came through the line. Hearing his voice made Caleb tense as he remembered the multiple ways he thought of to make him disappear. “Hey…why weren’t you at school today? And you didn’t answer any of my texts. Did I read it all wrong last night?” Eric asked, his voice lined with melancholy. A bit of Caleb wanted to feel bad for him, he knew all too well what unrequited love felt like. Even if it turned out for the better for him, he knew the suffering. But he also knew that Eric never suffered the way he did. And the feeling of possessivness overtook any shred of sympathy he could have.

Caleb leans into her ear again, nibbling the top ever so lightly, making her squirm. He placed soft, silent kisses down her ear and neck as he waited for her to answer him.

“Oh…I wasn’t feeling well. I must have eaten too much last night. I’ve been in and out of sleep all day, so I haven’t been on my phone…sorry.” She mumbled into the phone mic. She tried to bend her neck to make it less accessible to Caleb, but he held her chin up to stretch it out.

“Are you going to answer the last question?” Eric asked, sadly, yet with a twinge of impatience. Too evident for Caleb to miss, and it made his eye twitch knowing Eric was talking to her with such a tone.

Caleb flipped her around so she was facing the door. A soft but noticeable yelp escaped her lips. He reached down to the hem of his hoodie that she was wearing and pulled it up and off of her.

“Are you okay?” Eric asked.

She nodded, forgetting she was on the phone before saying, “Yeah, sorry. I’ll answer it. I just stubbed my toe.”

Caleb’s lips reattached onto her neck, trailing down to her shoulder blade and then back up, softly. His hands roamed her sides, teasing their way to her chest.

“I’m sorry, Eric. I think I’m the one who was confused.” She apologized through gritted teeth, holding back on any noises that Caleb was eliciting from her.

He started to leave marks on the back of her neck, easy to hide but easily visible with the wrong moves. Despite how upset he was that she was even talking to Eric, his erection persisted. A wave of adrenaline went through him, as he tried to keep her from being caught by Eric through the phone. His hips grinding on her plush bottom as his hands explored her body. His right hand cupped her right breast as his left teased at the waistband of her bottoms. Caleb’s lips never left her skin for even a second.

She let out a soft sigh, her free hand balled into a fist. She rested her forehead against the door, attempting to keep her composure. Slightly breathless, she kept going. “I just don’t think I want to be in a relationship, right now.”

Liar.

Caleb smirked against her neck as she lied to him, his pants growing even tighter, knowing the truth. She didn’t want to be in a relationship with HIM. And she never did. His hips grinded onto her even harder, and he unbuttoned her jeans before tugging them down her thighs. Keeping her panties on.

“Oh…did I do something wrong?” Eric was full of questions. Yet Caleb was somewhat glad. He was able to keep teasing her, so long as Eric kept the call going.

“No, Eric. I think I just want to focus on graduating, right now. I’m sorry for leading you on.” Her voice was rushed to avoid any slip-ups. “I think I was just confused, but I still want to be friends. I’m sorry.”

Caleb took two fingers to rub through her thin underwear. He almost came on the spot from how damp the fabric was, making him buck his hips roughly into her. He ran out of patience and he let go of her bust to end the call, exhaling a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding to keep quiet.

A sigh of relief immediately left her lips and she dropped her phone, without care, to grip his wrist that was touching her intimate parts. “You’re…crazy, Caleb.”

“For you, sweetheart. And I can tell you like it.” He moaned into her ear, his fingers working her through the fabric. His other hand went underneath her top to knead at her bare breast. “You can explain in the morning, I didn’t want to risk him hearing you. Only I can hear these sounds…understood?” He didn’t know where the confidence came from.

She let out a lewd moan, nodding quickly. Her hips pushing back to meet with his thrusts. “Please touch me.” She guided his fingers to move her underwear to the side to make bare contact with her sex, her knees buckling from the pressure. Her other hand moved atop the one under her shirt, squeezing with him.

Caleb came in his pants the moment he felt how slick she was, riding out his orgasm with uncoordinated thrusts against her. Groaning into her ear, praying she couldn’t tell, “Fuck, you’re driving me insane. You’re so wet.” He kept moving his fingers around the small nubbin while he rested his forehead on her shoulder.

She threw her head back onto his shoulder and moaned even louder. “Kiss me,” she begged, nuzzling her cheek onto him to make him look at her.

He captured her lips in a sloppy kiss, his fingers movedeven faster. She panted against his lips, unable to kiss back as moans and groans spilled out of her, her eyebrows furrowing together.

She pushed his hand even further back, starting an ache in his wrist, but Caleb couldn’t be bothered to care. “Inside me, Caleb…I’m so close.” His middle and ring finger easily slipped inside from how slick her entrance was. “Oh my god.” She groaned, “Move…faster..I’m going to–” Breathless she guided him to scissor his fingers in her faster.

His wrist was burning, but so was his desire to please her. He didn’t know how many times he came, he couldn’t tell if it was one long orgasm or multiple. He just knew it was getting stickier and hotter inside his pants. Caleb could feel her getting closer as she squeezed around his fingers. “Come for me.” He growled into her ear as he held her up, his thumb rubbing on her clit simultaneously.

She instantly came undone in his arms and on his fingers, a cry of pleasure ripping out of her. He continued to move his fingers inside of her until she was the one to pull him out by his wrist, squirming even more before falling limp from exhaustion.

He slowly lowered her down with him onto the floor, keeping her on top of him as he laid back on the ground. Her lower back pressed against his sensitive and recovering crotch. She twitched slightly from her own recovery, making him wince. “You’re really going to kill me.” He removed his arms from her and splayed one out while resting his forearm on his forehead. A small chuckle coming out of him from disbelief.

After a few long moments of trying to catch their breath, she sat up and turned to look down at him. “I can’t believe you’re willing to ruin your boxers again just because we haven’t gone on a proper date.”

Caleb sat up with her, resting his forehead on hers. “I’ve got to do one thing right, at least.” He sighed, kissing the tip of her nose. “I want us to start right…but god, it’s so hard to keep my control around you.” Another kiss to her cheek. “You’re intoxicating. I can’t get enough of you. Truly…my biggest weakness.” A soft and slow kiss on her lips. He pulled away to look her in the eyes. “You’re my everything.”

#lads caleb #caleb smut #lads caleb smut #love and deepspace #lads caleb fic #caleb fic #love and deepspace smut #smut

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sweetbootslink · 6 months ago

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So I took this picture in Glint because I wanted to see my dragon!MC with Sylus in his “normal” clothes:

And since I took it, it has consumed my very being?? To the point where…I wrote a whole tiny one-shot about it???

Anyway. Here’s some Sylus angst, and also the first fanfic I’ve posted on the internet in a very, very long time.

Only slightly angsty, and I guess spoilers(?) for Sylus’s myth.

————————

Sylus doesn’t often dream. If he does, it’s usually vague flashes of a fight, swirls of his Evol clouding any actual definitive images of anything, sometimes just various shades of red bleeding into one another behind his eyes.

Every so often, though, whenever he least expects it, Sylus has a different type of dream.

Dream might be too kind a word.

He’s having this dream tonight, having fallen asleep sitting straight up in his bed, his glasses still resting on his face and a few various papers curled gently in one of his fists.

This dream, unlike the others, he can see with breathtaking clarity.

He’s sitting in a sea of flowers, their fragrant blooms swaying in the warm breeze, the sun hanging low and heavy in the sky, casting warm reds and golden yellows across the wide expanse of the field.

This place is so familiar that it hurts, even though the logical side of his brain is telling him that he’s never even been here before, but it feels as real as any memory.

And maybe that’s because it is.

Shakily, he raises one hand to the top of his head, but feels nothing except his hair moving through his fingers, no protrusions sticking out from his skull.

He feels his face, his neck, looks down at his chest and hands. He’s wearing the same clothes he’d been wearing earlier that day in the N-109 Zone, the same black button down and pants. His skin feels smooth, with just the barest hint of stubble prickling his fingers.

Speaking of -

Sulus looks again at his hands and flexes his fingers, almost waiting for them to shift, for scales to develop, for them to change into something monstrous.

But no. Just his hands as they are now, his skin unblemished save for the small scars that he’s accumulated over the long years.

He gazes up again, looking out at the horizon, and there’s a sense of peace that flutters in his chest that he wants desperately to ignore.

Because Sylus knows what happens next.

He’s had this dream before.

He tries to stop himself, tries in vain to wake himself up, but he can’t, he never could, he was always going to have to watch this part play out. Helpless to his own mind, his own memory.

His own heart.

Slowly, Sylus turns his head to the left, and even though he knew deep in his soul what he would see, it still knocks the breath from his lungs.

You stand there, smiling at him over your shoulder, your hair floating softly in the wind, your eyes sparkling in the light of the sunset.

“Took you long enough,” you say with a small giggle, and oh your voice -

Sylus feels like his heart is being carved out of his chest.

Smiling still, you walk over to him and sink down into the grass in front of him. Your scent mixes in with the datura flowers and Sylus wants to drink you in, to consume you as you lean closer to him.

Your hand comes up and your curl your fingers around his chin, your eyes flicking across his face and landing on his lips. His heart pounds in his chest as he leans closer to you as well, wrapping one arm around your back, your skin so warm under his touch.

“Sylus,” you whisper. Sylus closes his eyes, desperate to stay in this moment forever, knowing that it’s hopeless, knowing that the dream always ends here, right before your lips finally meet his.

Just as it did before.

But Sylus doesn’t even care, as his fingers curl into your hair. He’d let you curse him a million times over if it meant he gets to feel you like this one more time.

A sharp wind blows across his face and Sylus opens his eyes wide, because this is not what is supposed to happen next.

You stare at him, grasp his chin a little harder, your eyes bright.

“Find me, Sylus,” you say, hushed and urgent, like you’re doing something that’s not allowed.

“Please come find me,” you murmur, and you lean forward and press your lips right beneath his right eye.

His little sorceress, defying them all as ever.

“I’m waiting for you.”

Suddenly the dream blurs, the soft glow of the sunset twisting into gray, the field transforming into the outskirts of a city, the toiling of a bell ringing through the air, and you vanish like mist beneath his hands.

Sylus wakes up.

Next to him, his phone vibrates. A text from an unknown number flashes on the screen.

It’s the date of the next Hunting Day at The Nest.

His heart thuds dully in his chest, the spark of something flaring to life.

Something that feels a little like hope.

I’m waiting for you.

#sylus fic #love and deepspace #lads fic #lads sylus #angst #fanfic #writing #omg am I actually writing a fanfic omgomgomg

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idorukiss · 9 months ago

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Heres a sorta drabble/headcanon of sorts of how I picture MC's relationship with Xavier would devleop~ I'm not much of a writer but the brainrot is real and im working on making similar ones for the other boys too! 1,029 words || You can also read it on ao3

‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙ Zayne ・ Rafayel ・ Sylus

He would never admit it, but you saved Xavier on that fateful first mission. Not from the wanderers though- He would’ve been able to defeat them all on his own, he’s lost track of how many stronger enemies he's dealt with over the years. What you saved him from was himself.

Life had become dull and monotonous for him- barely floating by and existing for the last eternity of loneliness after losing you the last time. Doing nothing more than throwing away his life against wanderers just to have some sort of purpose. You brought light back into his life once more, Just having you in his life again was more than enough. He didnt even dare to wish for more and let himself get too greedy out of fear of losing you far too soon.

But every day he got to see you for even a moment was everything he wanted and needed, it was a wonderful twist of fate that the two of you ended up being neighbors. He never went out of his way to see you, but you always happened to run into him time and time again whenever he wished to see you the most. Like fate was bringing you together

Between casual hangouts and missions together, you guys clicked hard and fast. You'd think you’ve known this man your whole life instead of just meeting earlier this year with how comfortable and natural everything is between the two of you. When did it become the norm to see him sitting on your couch reading almost every day? You can hardly remember what your life was like before he entered it.

One day the two of you are assigned a mission far away, and despite having separate hotel rooms you found yourself in his bed talking strategy and everything else late into the night. You don’t know at what point you had dozed off, but you found yourself opening your eyes early in the morning due to the sunrise pouring in. There was a sleeping figure next to you as well, with one arm gently draped over your abdomen. He looked absolutely stunning being illuminated from behind, you are almost unable to stop from gazing at his sleeping face.

You carefully reach out a hand to brush some hair out of his eyes to get a better view and he starts to stir a little, pulling you close to him while muttering that it’s too early to get up. Your heart is racing at the closeness. You could spend the rest of your life right there in his arms, it just felt it was where you belonged. Wrapping your arms around him in return, you press a gentle kiss on the top of his head.

Xavier doesn’t talk about himself all that much, greatly preferring to listen to anything and everything you have to say. You always found that odd, you loved to yap on about everything you like after all but you can’t seem to think of anything in particular he does that same for.

“Is there something on my face?” he asks, snapping you out of your thoughts “Oh Sorry, I was just thinking that I don’t know much about you….” “You don’t?” He tilts his head as he thinks “Hmm well just ask me what you want to know. I’ll glady tell you anything” “Then let’s start with an easy one, what’s your favorite movie?” “I don’t remember the name, but I’ll have to say the one you showed me last week” “That's my favorite movie Xavier, you always just agree with the things I like.. I want to know what you like” “But you were the one who showed me it, so of course I’m gonna like it.” he leans in close and gently places a hand on top of yours “And I like anything to do with you” Your face starts to flush bright red, and the only thing you can think of as a response is to nod and clasp your hand around his.

It was like Pandora's box was opened- neither of you could deny your feelings for the other any longer, and it was impossible to tell who was the more clingy about it. Sneakily holding hands at HQ when nobody was looking, spending entire days in his arms as he reads aloud the latest book he got, and not to mention the fact you'd often spend more time at his apartment than your own.

He's a strong and capable hunter, and while you know this you cant help but worry about him on missions. He's of course the exact same to you, neither of you want to lose the other. When you are paired on missions together its like an internal battle to protect the other the most, sure its not the standard way to deal with wanders but you both have the lowest record of injuries as of late because of it.

But every day was nothing but pure bliss with him by your side, you guys were in perfect sync. He always knew exactly what you wanted- sometimes before you even realized it yourself. It was almost like he could read your mind, he just knows you so well. If he could spend the rest of his long life taking care of your every need he would.

Perhaps if he ever told you the whole history behind your shared fate, you could realize just how much love he has for you. How absolutely broken and alone he was before you appeared in front of him again. How willingly he would die for you or destroy the world just to keep you by his side for a moment longer.

You trust him with your life, and let him lead your relationship into each next step without a second thought. From a surprise first kiss one morning before he left on a mission, to everything beyond that. Nothing felt rushed or like you weren't ready for it. The absolute perfect relationship with the perfect man of your dreams.

He is everything you didn't even know you wanted and more. You guys made each other complete

#love and deepspace #xavier #xavier love and deepspace #xavier l&ds #xavier lads #irodruwrite #i originally didnt want to include much about myths in these but i cant seem to write xavier without including it LMAO #anyones welcome to take what ive written for these and expand upon them in proper fic form btw!! ill kiss u if u do xoxo #ALSO THANKS FOR OVER 60 NOTES ON THE ZAYNE ONE IM CRYING I DIDNT THINK YOU GUYS WOULD LIKE THESE SO MUCH AAA #next should be rafayel im thinking btw!! saving sylus for last hehe #budding relationships

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dazyskiie-luv · 2 years ago

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Overblot mc/yuu but...????

TW — mention of vomiting, fighting Crowley and winning (sorry Crowley lovers), past death. I like thinking a lot tbh

not necessarily angst but it is in here! Same with fluff...this was really just me rambling.

* EDIT: WHY DID IT TAKE HOURS UNTIL I FINALLY GOT TOLD I WAS WRITING OVERBLOT WRONG.

I think about MC overbloting a lot and I also think about adding it into my own books because of how??? good??? the idea???? is???????

I genuinely imagine that even from the start MC was in danger of overbloting themself, with the stress and despair of finding out they aren't in THEIR world, away from their (family and/or friends) with possibly NO WAY BACK EVER because of some egocentric crow refusing to do more than he wants to???????

They would obviously be hella upset, stressed, depressed, anxious, etc because they know NOTHING of this world and is practically a BABY among people who lived here THEIR WHOLE LIFE.

So as more overblots happen, the more their OWN overblot is brewing. Bubbling, waiting to enter the game. Especially with the magic always getting slashed onto them. I think the only reason why they HAVEN'T overbloted just yet is because of grim

a more personal headcanon; Grim's fire, when you have a close bond with him, sorta starts erasing your blot and fueling HIS flames, making it more powerful. Essentially, think of when you're close friends with someone... you'll find it easier to fight for them right?? like you have more power to do that??? that's what its like

Now think of when MC is just TOO deep in their mind, TOO deep into their emotions and its the ONE TIME grim isn't there to help. They go to throw up blot and after panicking for a bit they just accept it. They accept that "I'm gonna overblot and probably die" because they're just too tired to worry abt themself

They don't tell anyone and since the overblot is already taking over the entire inside of their body, grims flames can't really???? get it all???? It'll always be there and it'll continue to grow and slowly grim notices that when he's feeling more powerful than ever while MC is showing obvious signs of getting ready to overblot

Grim choosing not to say anything to other people would be like... i guess out of character but at the same time i think In character????? He knows how tired MC is with dealing with everyone and honestly he's tired of it too so YASSS SLAY HENCH-BESTIEEE!!!!!

Sooner or later the others would notice too and it would be a little late to help MC since the overblot is already seeping out of their skin like they're crying. and honestly? their body IS crying. it's crying blot. And even as everyone is screaming and panicking about MC, they're just... sitting there.

Like they're annoyed everyone is making a big deal out of it considering no one cared before, and they're just like "stfu we're in class" and then focus on the teacher going "u can continue im sorry abt that."

And everyone is just??? confused?? because why aren't they going haywire or like.....???? idk..... crying in pain....????? what...........

MC just chilling the entire day while overbloting, even their overblot monster just floating behind them in peace and waving at times when people look for too long while everyone else is wary and giving them (+ grim who's always in MC's hold) a bunch of space while the teachers and dormleaders have their pens/wands/wtvr thr fuck at command just incase

but then everyone just realizes that??? MC isn't gonna???? do anything?????? and it kinda irritates them because why aren't you doing shit its freaking them out.

And lets say,,, ortho... as discreetly as he can... scans you. And it shows that you're perfectly fine??? like you aren't dying or in pain. It even shows the Blot monster being alright too like its just a guy standing there.

And now the confusion is up to 100 because WHAT????

MC and the Blot [+ Grim] just doing their everyday assignments and eating in the cafeteria with their friends being visibly tense and MC just raises an eyebrow like "whats wrong with yall tf" before continuing to absolutely DEMOLISH a burger they got for free. FREE!!! best day ever fr they'll tell you that much

I feel like the Blot would get sorta aggressive/protective when it comes to people who has like hurt MC to the point they had to take a nurse visit (half of the school but its alr we gang fr) but when it comes to crowley....??? They'll see the FULL POWER of a magicless blot monster which is actually more terrifying than the others.

The blot going hulk on crowley is so funny to imagine for me cause he'd just be running away and suddenly gets smashed into a pillar from a literal stomp. just one. and it was relatively weak compared to the Blot AND MC picking up and swinging that SAME PILLAR to smash it into crowley.

All that anger and other negative emotion finally coming out the SECOND they even so as HEAR that crows heartbeat nearby. It gave everyone whiplash but then again they also all collectively thought that he deserved it considering he hasn't truly done anything to HELP the students but just to HELP the schools reputation.

I'm half certain a student died there and he just covered it up and they turned into a ghost that haunts places. (i mean... look at the three ghosts in Ramshackle. they used to be students there I'm pretty sure????? i forgot.)

As MC is beating the DOG SHIT out of crowley the Blot is just cleaning everything up slowly because they realized that they dirted up the place :( and when MC is done they help too as the teachers all circle around a throughly beaten and bruised Crowley who has blood seeping out of his mouth while being half awake.

Of course they help him don't die because they honestly don't want the one helpful person to go to the equivalent of jail in twisted wonderland for committing murder and ykw thats so real.

I feel like as Mc stays in this overblot form everyone thats close-ish to them gets memories of things that's happened to them in the past like how MC did. But it's worse. I want an mc thats traumatized im sorry and i want it to be worse than what half of these guys went through.

I need them to feel guilty even more. Like. "Oh my god I really said that when— holy shit" FEEL BAD!!!!! Grim would already know their past because I know I would be cuddling into Grim's stomach and crying about everything.

When Mc finally stops "Overbloting", the Blot would still be there but as its own person :D How does this work????? it works bc I said it does.

The Blot™ would help MC a lot and vice versa, basically acting like parents now with how worried they get over everyone and the other. Grim is eating the attention up though as both Mc and The Blot cuddle as therapy (and bc they wanna)

Everyone (especially idia) would need time to like... get used to that because there's "NO FUCKING RECORD OF AN OVERBLOT BECOMING ITS OWN PERSON AND BEING....NICE?????"(shrouds words not mine ong) and when they do get used to it its like everyone is genuinely happier because! gasp! they are!!!

kick the crow out the seat. Both the Blot and Mc are the new headmaster contrary to the students voting them when Crowley got demoted from it.

I also feel like....??? Instead of MC goinf back home cause they realize just how BAD it was back home, they choose to have a bridge between both realities so that its their (friends and/or families) choice on if they want to be with them in twisted wonderland or not.

MC & Blot beating the shit outta Crowley as everyone watches (and cheers)

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anonymousewrites · 8 months ago

Text

Of Two Worlds (Book 3) Chapter Twenty-Two

Fushiguro Megumi x Half-Curse! Reader

Chapter Twenty-Two: Moon

Summary: Megumi and (Y/N) reach the end, and a new dawn breaks.

Mouse Note: We have reached the end of Of Two Worlds. Wow. What a journey. So many years have passed since I started this series, and I love all these characters so dearly, and their story has finally been completed, and their lives stretch out before them. A special from me, the author, will come out on Monday, but the actual content and chapters of Of Two Worlds is over. I am so sad to say goodbye to MC and Megumi. But I am so thankful for all the support I've gotten through the years. Thank you to everyone!

“Domain Expansion: Malevolent Shrine.”

“Domain Expansion: Solar Eclipse.”

Sukuna’s domain cracked the moment it tried to compete with (Y/N)’s. His shrine was demolished, flattened by the expanse of endless night sky flying out from where (Y/N) stood. The edges of the domain seemed unseeable. Across the battlefield, Itadori, Nanamie, Uraume, Maki, Nobara, and Ren were pulled into Solar Eclipse. Ren’s eyes widened as her game was brought to a sudden halt, and everyone’s eyes went to the center of the domain where (Y/N) stood. There were no buildings to obscure their views of her. There was only the Moon.

(Y/N) stood on a raised dais, the flames of the sun covered by the expanse of the powerful moon. Behind her sat a throne of silver, and she didn’t even have to glance back to sit down. She sat down, leaned back, and gazed down at all the people below her.

“I told you. I am the strongest,” said (Y/N) as Sukuna felt his cursed energy fading as he stood within the expanse of her power. She raised a hand.

Sukuna’s gaze went to Ren and Uraume—standing so far away in the night sky. Their eyes widened, and Sukuna’s cold, dead heart beat in his chest. Ah, yes. The two people he loved and lost and would lose again because of the constant battle, the constant vying for strength, the constant violence.

“Curses always come back,” said Sukuna, the statement not to (Y/N) but to them, to tell them he would find them again—

“Then perhaps in the next life you’re learn to love without seeking violence alongside it,” said (Y/N). She flicked her wrist. “Lunar Cycle: Blood Moon.”

Sukuna felt Cleave be summoned within him, and cuts erupted across his skin. The moment blood hit his tattoos, they glowed silver, burning into him.

“Sukuna!”

“No!”

Uraume. Ren.

And then the stars themselves were blurring through him, the moon was rising above him, and the light—the sun—of his life was being blotted out by the Moon as his own blood turned against him and silver light destroyed him from the inside out.

I love you. Next time…I’ll be—

Sukuna’s body hit the ground, and the last thing he felt was two pairs of hands catching him.

(Y/N)’s domain faded, and she floated to the ground where the dais had been. Megumi moved to her side instantly, and the other sorcerers’ eyes widened. Sukuna was dead. They had survived him. Even the moon had lost its red glow, returning to silver. The edges of the sky lightened as dawn approached. The dawn of a new era was arriving.

“Sukuna…” Uraume knelt by his side, gazing at his empty expression. “Ren, is there—”

“No.” Ren gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut. For once, her emotions were clear to the world. Her grief was written on her face. “There’s nothing to do. He’s gone.” She let out a long breath as she held Sukuna’s hand. “And I…tire. There is no solution to this, just the same cycle.”

Uraume traced Sukuna’s face with their hand. “Then we break it.” They stood and turned to (Y/N). The other sorcerers had still hung back, but (Y/N) met their gaze evenly. “Kill us.”

Ren understood and rose to stand beside Uraume. “Yes.” She saw the only road ahead—she always did. “Kill us.” Give us a chance to come back with him anew.

(Y/N) nodded. Her katana appeared in her hand.

“Maki,” said Ren. Maki looked at her. “Don’t forget our deal.”

“I won’t,” said Maki.

“If you win and sorcerers rule once more, make sure they treat those who are different better. It’s the only way forward.”

Ren smiled. “Good.” Solemnly, she reached out and took Uraume’s hand.

(Y/N) raised the katana and slashed. Two more bodies fell beside Sukuna. It was over.

“We did it,” said Itadori, letting out a breath of shock. “He’s gone.” Unable to hold himself back, he turned and hugged Nanami. Tears rushed to Itadori’s eyes. They had lost so many, but they had won. Grief and relief mixed in his heart.

Nanami held him close and looked at (Y/N). She looked back. As soon as Itadori no longer needed him, he would go to her. He smiled as he hugged Itadori. But she also had someone else to protect her.

“(Y/N).”

She looked at Megumi. He reached out and took her hand. (Y/N) looked down and grasped it securely before looking at him properly.

“We did it,” he said.

“We did,” said (Y/N). She smiled. “We’re alive.”

The first rays of dawn touched the world. The rest of their lives was just beginning.

“Ieiri has almost finished healing everyone,” said Megumi, emerging from within the building where she had hidden and worked. “She said your reverse-cursed technique saved a lot of them from lifelong injuries.”

(Y/N) nodded from where she stood at the edge of the rooftop and looked out across the world that had lived to see another day.

“How are you feeling?” asked Megumi, reaching out to touch her hand.

“Different,” said (Y/N). “So many people are dead.”

“I know,” said Megumi softly. Choso, Yuki, Higurama, Hakari…Gojo. There was nothing more for him to say. Yes, life would move on, but people were still gone. People had died.

“Life is going to be different, isn’t it?” said (Y/N). “You and I—curses. The jujutsu world being rebuilt.”

“We have a chance to make it different. We have to take that,” said Megumi. “And we’ll be able to do that together.” His grip on her hand tightened. “Because we’re together forever.”

“We vowed it,” said (Y/N), holding his hand and looking at him.

Megumi gazed at her, at the curse marks, the sloping horns, the beautiful silver eyes… “(Y/N)—You know that you mean the world to me, don’t you?” He lifted her hand, and (Y/N) looked at him. “When I thought you were dead—that you had left me alone in this world—it destroyed me. I didn’t even think for a moment whether or not I would survive giving you my heart. I just wanted you to live. Because I—I love you, (Y/N). I love you.”

(Y/N) lifted her hand to Megumi’s cheek and smiled at him. He had no heart, but he could feel himself growing flustered as she gazed at him.

“I love you, too, Megumi.” Those were all the words she had to speak. He understood the rest in his soul. After all, theirs were bound together by the very emotion they had just admitted. (Y/N) leaned in and rested her forehead against his. “I love you very much.”

Smiling, Megumi leaned in and kissed her. (Y/N)’s hand on his cheek went to his hair and pulled him closer. Megumi’s hands went to her waist and pulled her closer. Finally. Finally sung their souls.

The Moon and the Shadows were together once more, reunited and in love.

“Nanami-san—”

“We’re beyond that, (Y/N),” said Nanami.

Behind him, Tsumiki and Megumi were hugging each other tightly, finally getting to just be siblings after everything that had torn them apart. Nobara and Itadori were speaking to one another while Maki and Inumaki sat beside Yuuta as he recovered in a cot.

“I’m a curse, now,” said (Y/N), looking at him.

“No. I said it before, and I’ll say it now. You could never be a curse,” said Nanami. “Because you’re a blessing.”

(Y/N)’s heart clenched at the words, and she hugged Nanami tightly. “I’m sorry you had to fight again.”

“For you? I’d do it a million times over,” said Nanami, holding (Y/N) tight. “You’re family.”

“You’re the only dad I ever needed,” said (Y/N), hugging him.

Times would be hard. The world was going to be different. But they had one another and would face the changes together. Over Nanami’s shoulder, Megumi smiled at (Y/N). She smiled back.

“I’m a curse now. Megumi is, too. But we’re not monsters. We have our minds. And our…heart. Sukuna is gone, and you are, too. We’re going to guide the world to be better. It won’t be perfect. But we have to chance to try, and I’m not giving that up.

“But…we miss you. We wish you were here so that you could live instead of fighting. The world asked too much of you. If you…get another chance, I hope you get peace. And joy. And love. You deserve it.

“And Megumi and I will be waiting. Even if you never see us and never recognize us, we’ll be here, keeping the world safe for everyone who gets a chance at peace.”

(Y/N) rose from where she knelt before two gravestones. “Goodbye, Gojo. I hope you find peace.” She looked from the stone labeled “Gojo Satoru” to the one right next to it. “Together.” The name “Geto Suguru stared back.”

“Are you ready?” said Megumi, forming from the shadows.

(Y/N) nodded. “I am.”

Megumi looked at the graves. “Do you think they’re alright?”

“I think they’re together,” said (Y/N). “And they were apart for so long.” She looked at Megumi. “Like us.”

“Do you think they’ll get another chance?”

“I hope they do,” said (Y/N). Her solemn expression shifted into a neutral one. “Is it time to get to work?”

“Yeah,” said Megumi. “Maki has been out recruiting, and Utahime is running point with getting the government to stop trying to figure out how to turn cursed energy into a military weapon, but we have a lot more people with unlocked cursed energy looking for guidance. Nanami is getting through the files, and Nobara and Itadori are rebuilding.” He smiled. “But they’ve organized a proper celebration first. To remember that we’re alive.” He took their hand, and the shadows absorbed them.

(Y/N) let out an honest laughed and leaned back into Megumi as they watched Nobara and Maki dance—Nobara had wanted to, and Maki couldn’t say no to her. At the side of the room, Yuuta and Inumaki were chatting. Tsumiki was sitting calmly at the edge of the room, smiling at all these new people who cared about her and her brother. Ieiri and Utahime were drinking and way too close to be normal. Nanami sat with Itadori as Itadori explained in-detail all the battles he’d been in while waiting for Nanami to recover. If (Y/N) was his daughter, Itadori was his son, that was for damn sure.

(Y/N) looked up at Megumi. The moonlight shone on his face, and (Y/N) traced it. He looked down at her and smiled. He leaned in, and she met his movement in a kiss.

The world was a complicated place. It would always be changing. Years would never be the same. Nothing stayed the same. Curses evolved. Kings fell. Sorcerers changed society. One day a cursed object was a protection against curses and the next it was the catalyst for monumental change. Maybe one day someone would pick up such an object and things would begin again. Or maybe it would simply fade and decay, the curse’s spirit ready for a new life. Maybe one day three people would meet one another in a time of peace, and their strength, intellect, and loyalty would serve them for a better life. Maybe one day a boy with white hair would meet a boy with black hair and form a bond that no one could come between.

But until those possibilities even begin to emerge and even years after, the night would remain. It brought the Moon and the Shadows together. (Y/N) and Megumi’s souls were there to stay. Their love changed only in its growth. They were beings of two worlds with love as the bridge—forevermore entwined in the night.

Taglist:

@snowy-violet

@tsukikoxo

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dutifullynuttywitch · 1 year ago

Text

Dance féerique

(A magical bayou waltz)

Pairing: Cal Lowell x Aurélie Bajolière (f!mc)

Choices Nightbound

Rating: general (fluff)

Wordcount: 700 words

Image credit: madsmikkelsen7161 on pinterest

Tags: @choicescommunityevents for the faeries event 🧚‍♀️ @choicesficwriterscreations

It’s an unusually cool evening in the bayou. Aurélie sits on the small wooden dock behind the cozy home she now shared with Cal and his brother Donny. She looks up at the starry sky, her toes trailing lazily in the balmy water.

They had opened all the windows to let the refreshing breeze flit gently through the house. Which meant she could enjoy her own personal concert.

Cal was seated at the piano, playing her favorite song, Chopin’s Nocturne No. 9 E major.

The soft notes float up to her, carried by the cool breeze, evoking feelings of immense tenderness for this man who had become her rock, her everything during the recent trials. Fighting terrible enemies. Realizing she was half-fae. Losing her father so soon after finally meeting him. Dying.

Sometimes she’d wake up still wondering if the past weeks had been nothing but a fever dream.

Though tonight, resting under the immensity of the cosmos reflected in the calm waters in front of her, the beautiful melody flitting in soft waves, it felt more like a moonlit reverie.

As she gazes out into the confines of the bayou, Aurélie notices white specks of light twirling over the mirror-like water, seemingly dancing in sync with the melody.

Curious, she squints her eyes, trying to make out the dazzling forms. They slowly near the dock, floating on the wind.

As they get closer, Aurélie’s breath catches.

Tiny wood fairies!

Their shimmering, iridescent wings flutter daintily as they twirl and dance. Soon, the ethereal creatures encircle her, their giggles like soft chimes as they joyfully twirl, raise and dip all around her.

“Well, hello, you’re quite graceful.”

Aurélie smiles at the fairies. They grin and chatter, a few fluttering in her long wavy hair, tickling her, while others pull at her blouse, inviting her up.

Laughing, she complies and starts twirling around the yard along with the fairies, in absolute awe at this magical moment.

“You’re a sight to behold, ma chérie.”

Aurélie turns towards the house to find Cal leaning against the frame, observing her with a tender expression, a sparkle in his eyes.

The fairies pick up their chatter, a delicate symphony of windchimes now replacing the night’s melody. Inviting the newcomer to join their magical waltz.

“Well, what are you waiting for, handsome?”

Aurélie beckons him over, smiling playfully. Cal doesn’t need further encouragement. He tenderly gathers his girlfriend into his powerful arms and leads her into a slow waltz.

As always, Aurélie is amazed that this beast of a man is capable of such gentleness. Always so careful around her, protective, attentive to her needs and attuned to her emotions. He had captured her heart so easily with his kind soul.

And she fell in love with him all over again every day, through his many small gestures, gentle touches, daily bouquets of fresh wildflowers, private moonlit concerts. Countless little reminders that he cherished her.

The fairies seem to approve as they increase their wild ballet, surrounding the couple with their ethereal beauty, lighting up the air brighter than the billions of flickering stars.

Cal gazes fondly into his love’s sparkling blue eyes. He bends down to capture her lips in a languid kiss.

Aurélie melts into his strong arms, feeling his intense warmth envelop her. She parts her lips, inviting him in, relishing in this magical moment.

They feel a soft breeze as the fairies excitedly spin around them, then float up high into the air. They bid their farewell in melodic chimes, softly flitting into the dark woods.

Watching the little specks of light disappear, Cal murmurs, “You have such a beautiful soul, even the wood fairies want to be close to you.”

“You’re the one who drew them here with your wonderful moonlight concert.”

“Hmm… and here I thought I was playing only for ma douce moitié.” He kisses her nose. “Shall I continue?”

“Yes please. Though I’ll come sit with you. I love watching you play.”

They turn their backs to the serene bayou and its magical inhabitants as they head towards the brightly lit house.

Their home.

#playchoices #choices nightbound #cal lowell #cal lowell x mc #nightbound fanfiction #choices community events #choices faeries #Spotify

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jackalopesao3 · 2 years ago

Note

Hi! Can I pls get a fluff nsfw of Lucifer x Female Mermaid MC?

Sure can! Sorry for the wait! This took several months for me to write as writing beginnings and endings are my kryptonite! Hope you enjoy!

Lucifer x Mermaid MC

CW: homesick reader, enemies to friends to lovers (enemies to friends implied), nsfw warnings under the read more

Reader/MC is AFAB and uses they/them pronouns

🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧

Salty Tears & Turning Tides

NSFW CWs: oral sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, Luci is dominant, light bondage, spanking, slight body worshipping

Even with his god-like powers, Diavolo’s artificial sun could not compare to the real sun of the Human Realm and you found yourself longing for that warmth on your skin. You sighed, a myriad of bubbles escaping from your lips as you floated under the waves.

The ability to breathe under water was pure bliss on days like today when the brothers were wreaking havoc during your shared beach getaway. You could go undetected for a while, letting the currents rock you into a light nap. It was a curious thing, this peaceful silence that you could only obtain by hiding away under the ocean’s glimmering surface.

You weren’t able to be in your mermaid form often in the Human Realm. There were too many eyes almost anywhere you went. Regular humans believed mermaids to be a fairytale and for your kind it was much safer that way. Here, in the Devildom, there were plenty of “fairytales” that could live their lives without hiding. You were envious of the mermaids that lived here permanently.

A pact mark suddenly tingles on the back of your neck and groan. The brothers were looking for you. You swam towards the surface, breaking through right in front of a startled Mammon who nearly falls off his inflatable raft.

“Ya almost gave me a heart attack, MC!” He quipped as he steadied the raft.

“Then maybe you should just be more alert,” you replied with a shrug before swimming to the shoreline.

You rose up, tail transforming into legs as you walked along the shore towards the glow of the campfire, Mammon trudging behind you and grumbling about mermaids.

The brothers just about scrambled over themselves to make room for you but you were feeling overwhelmed. A warm hand gently but firmly took you by the arm.

“Sit with me, MC,” Lucifer murmured into your neck.

Goosebumps pricked on your skin and you felt your cheeks heat up ever so slightly before the eldest pulled you down to sit with him.

“Thanks,” you murmured, your eyes fixed on your lap.

If you’d have known the Avatar of Pride would be flirting with you like this when you first came to the Devildom, over a year ago, you would hardly believe it. The two of you had a turbulent relationship during your first year as an exchange student. How many times did he try to kill you? You dismissed those thoughts from your mind as you had dinner with everyone.

You were quieter today than you normally were and Lucifer was the only one who picked up on it. The six younger brothers eventually meandered off either to bed or to cause mischief, you weren’t sure. The eldest stayed by your side.

“You barely spoke a word during dinner,” he remarked, scarlet eyes studying the profile of your face.

“I suppose I’m just missing the Human Realm a bit,” you answered to his unasked question. “The sun here can’t compare to the one back home. I miss swimming in our oceans, finding a sunbeam to float in beneath the waves, and I miss my family. It’s weird having no other mermaids around.”

The eldest gave you a nod before he spoke. “Would you like to go to the Human Realm next weekend?”

Your eyes lit up but you found yourself biting down on your lower lip, hesitant. “Don’t you have a lot of student council work to catch up on? I’m sure your brothers do too.”

You caught the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

“They do not have to come with us. I would prefer just the two of us. My brothers can catch up with council duties while we’re away.”

You felt your cheeks burn and your heart thud, surely he didn’t mean? A cool hand on your chin gently tugged your head in his direction.

“They’re always taking up so much of your time. I want you all to myself,” he professed, fingertips running along your jawline.

“I’d like that,” you sputtered out while your stomach did cartwheels.

His eyes flickered to your lips, his thumb suddenly brushing over them and you gasped in surprise.

“I want you, MC. All of you. I want more of you than my brothers will ever have. Will you allow me this indulgence?”

Your entire body felt like it was going to combust at any second but you managed a nod.

“You’re sure? You know I do not intend to let you go. You will be mine and I will be yours,” Lucifer smirked, despite his confident demeanor you could see the tiniest bit of apprehension in his eyes, as if afraid you might change your mind and reject his advances.

You rallied up your courage, eyes still locked on his, “Kiss me.”

And he did, all the built up tension released into a passionate, warm kiss. You could feel his want, his desperation, and his devotion to you as his lips dominated your own.

You let out a soft yelp as he suddenly pulled you on his lap, his tongue snaking through your parted lips to dance with yours’. Your arms wrapped around his neck while his hands grasped onto your hips.

You could feel his length harden, suddenly pressed up against your core and you moaned into the kiss while he held you by the hips and ground against you. He groaned your name into your lips and pulled back to meet your gaze, eyes darkened with lust.

“Y/N, I’m going to claim you now,” he rasped, hips grinding against your own as he waited for your response.

“P-please, Luci-AAH!” You cried out as you felt his teeth sink into the soft flesh of your neck.

His tongue swiped over the fresh mark and he hummed in approval.

“MC, my beautiful, darling mermaid, no one is ever going to question who you belong to after tonight,” he murmured against your skin before peppering your neck and chest with kisses and bites.

He pulled back to admire his work. “Gorgeous but I see there is more to be done.”

Before you can question what he meant, you felt him untie your bikini top, the cool air causing your nipples to harden. The prideful demon suddenly lifted you from his lap so that you’re on your back, on top of the towel. He settled between your legs and lowered his head to your breasts.

You softly moaned his name as his tongue danced patterns over the delicate flesh. Your hands dove into his hair as you desperately ground against him, trying to relieve the ache between your legs as he took a nipple into his mouth and began sucking, his fingers rolling and pulling at the other one.

He sucked, licked, and bit all over the sensitive mounds as you let out strangled cries of pleasure. Your hands clenched around fistfuls of his hair as he suddenly bit down on the super sensitive flesh right under your breasts, sucking hard and leaving a huge welt.

“Lucifer!” You cried as you tried desperately to grind against his erect member.

He growled in arousal and you felt his cock twitch against your cunt. In one swift motion he pinned your hands above your head with one hand and held your hips in place with the other.

“I’m going to take my time with you, Y/N but your touches are distracting. Be still unless you want to be punished,” he hissed.

You debated questioning him on the type of punishment briefly before he’s suddenly kissing down your stomach while sliding the bottoms of your bikini off.

His hands slid along the inside of your legs, mouth leaving hot, sensual kisses from your ankle to your thighs. You couldn’t help but to curse and pant as his he took the flesh between his teeth and bit.

“Oh fuck! Lucifer! I can’t! Please!” You begged, no longer able to form sentences as he ran his tongue over the huge welts he left on your inner thighs. You squirmed under his touch, forgetting his rule of no moving.

You yelped as he suddenly pulled your legs up and folded them over you so your bare ass was facing him. You didn’t have time to contemplate this new position as a firm smack to your cheeks had you squeal in surprise.

“What did I say about moving?” Lucifer tutted before delivering several more swats to your delicate rear.

“I-I’m sorry! P-please Lucifer!” You begged the demon as he admired the marks he left on your cheeks.

“Have you learned your lesson?” He asked, punctuating his question with another spank.

“Y-yes!” You trembled and yelped as he gave you one more smack before lowering your legs to rest on the ground.

“Good girl.”

His hands spread your legs further apart and you let out a soft whine as the cool air hit your pussy.

A finger swiped along your slit as you do your best to remain still.

“Already so wet for me, Y/N, perfect,” he smirked as he sucked on his finger tip.

“Delicious. I want a better taste,” he purred before kissing your outer lips, tongue slipping between then to shallowly lap at your labia.

“Luci! Mmm! Please!” You begged as your hands fisted the towel beneath you.

“I suppose I can reward you for asking nicely,” he smirked against your cunt, hands sliding under your ass to raise it slightly for a better angle.

“Keep them spread, Y/N,” he commanded as you spread your legs further, nearly biting through your lower lip in anticipation.

You whimpered and gasped as he stroked your swollen cunt with his tongue, swirling it deep in the folds of your sensitive labia, avoiding your opening and clit for now. Your hips bucked as his tongue wiggled closer to your clit and you squeaked at the harsh warning smack he gave you, hips stilling.

“Oh fuck! Aaaaah!” You shriek as his tongue swirls over the sensitive bud of nerves.

“Mmm! Fuck Luci! Yes yes yes!” You moaned as he alternated between flicks and swirls of his tongue against your clit.

A lewd cry escaped from your throat as his lips wrapped around your clit and he suckled firmly on the stiffened bud. You wanted nothing more than to grind against his face but you didn’t want him to stop and punish you again.

You felt your orgasm rapidly approaching with each suck and lick against your very swollen clit.

“Luci! G-gonna! Mmm! Come!”

He suddenly pulled back causing you to whine in indignation and your hands push his head closer to your cunt, trying to grind on his face. A series of sharp smacks reminded you to still your movements and you whimpered.

“Patience,” he warned, lust-filled eyes meeting your own.

His eyes remained locked on yours’ as he slipped a finger into the opening of your cunt, shallowly pumping it.

“So tight…so wet, Y/N,” you willed yourself still as his breath tickled your pussy and he swirled his finger deep inside you.

He sinks another finger in to join the one already at work, thrusting them deeper and curling them against the sensitive spot along your walls. Lewd squelches from your pussy filled the air as he pumped you and you looked away in embarrassment.

“Look at me,” Lucifer demanded with a growl, causing your eyes to lock on his.

“Would you like to come, Y/N?” He asked, never breaking eye contact.

“Y-yes! Please!” You gasped out as he added another finger and quickened his pace.

Sharp, scarlet eyes remained focused on your own and you squirmed under his scrutiny.

“Do not take your eyes off of me. I want to see your face as I make you come undone,” he ordered, planting an almost chaste kiss on your clit while curling his fingers against your sweet spot.

“A-aaah! Yes, sir!” You whined as your pussy clenched and quivered around his digits.

“Good girl, I’ll allow you to move. I want to see your body react while you come on my face,” he smirked against your cunt, tongue swirling along your folds before flicking your clit.

Your hands flew up to knead your breasts as he stroked your sweet spot with his fingers and he let out an almost feral growl. Your eyes were blown wide with lust as you watched him work you towards your climax.

“Yes! Luci! Yes! Don’t stop! Please!” You begged as his lips latched onto your swollen bud.

Your hands groped and fondled at your breasts desperately as you feel yourself peaking. Lucifer sucked harder while quickening the thrusts of his fingers, maintaining eye contact as you suddenly lost control and ground your pelvis against his face.

“I’m coming! I’m going to…fuck! Mmm-AAH!” You shrieked and pinched your nipples as your orgasm suddenly crashed through you.

Your face burned hot while he looked into your eyes, savoring the feeling of you squeezing his fingers and drinking in the site of you coming undone but he didn’t stop to give you a chance to come down from your high.

His free hand gripped your ass and pressed your cunt against his mouth while he sucked so hard on your clit that you thought he would detach it. The deep strokes of his fingers and his lips’ assault on your clit had you spiraling fast into another orgasm. An unfamiliar pressure building up in your cunt.

“I-mmm! O-oooh! Luci stop! I’m gonna! Fuck! Aaaaaaaah! Fuck! FUCK! So good! No! Wait!” Your babbling turned into another scream as you lost control of your self and and a hot liquid burst from your cunt with such force and volume that you felt the towel soaking beneath you. You quickly forgot your embarrassment in the overwhelming pleasure.

“Mmmmm a-aaah! Oh fuck! Ooooooh! Hnnngh!” You keened as you squirted again with your orgasm. Your hands were gripping your breasts so tight that you were sure you were going to leave bruises right along side of his hickeys.

Lucifer groaned into your cunt as you bucked your hips and ground his face with wild abandon. He reveled at the way you came undone a second time for him, his cock straining painfully against the fabric of his swimsuit.

He gradually slowed his ministrations as you rode out your high, tongue lapping up your leaking juices.

“You taste divine, Y/N,” Lucifer smiled against your skin before kissing back up your body to your lips capturing them with his own.

He slipped out of his swim trunks, pressing his erection against your thigh, the head wet with precum.

“Do you feel what you do to me, Y/N?” He teased and positioned himself over you.

“W-what about your shirt?” Your hands went to grab the bottom of his swim shirt but he caught your wrists.

“I will keep it on,” he hesitated, eyes not quite making contact with yours.

His scars. You quickly realized, remembering how he fought in the Celestial War. You frowned and shook your head, giving him a reassuring smile.

“I want you, Lucifer, all of you.” You repeated the phrase he said to you earlier, now saying it back to him.

With that, you helped him out of his shirt and gently pushed him down so his back was on the towel.

“You’re gorgeous, every last part of you,” you praised as your lips kissed over each scar on his chest and torso.

A gasp escaped from his lips while he shivered at your touch. You winked mischievously before kissing up the underside of his shaft.

“Never hide any part of yourself from me,” you smiled and kissed back up to his lips as he positioned you over his throbbing erection.

“A-aaah! Luci-s-so good!” You moaned as he sunk you all the way down on his cock.

“You better find something to hold onto,” he growled, “I’m not going to go easy on you.”

With that he began thrusting, your body bouncing up and down with each thrust. You tried to keep up with his pace, grinding down against him the deeper he hit but soon fell behind as you cried out in pleasure, writhing against him. One hand holds you by the hip to steady you and the other slides over your thighs and to your swollen, stuffed pussy. You let out another cry when his finger began circling your clit.

Overstimulated, it doesn’t take long before you come again, spongy walls milking his cock for all its worth. It didn’t take long for Lucifer to follow, filling you to the brim with his seed. Your body went slack on top of him, forehead resting against his own while his arms encircled your waist.

“Your stamina needs some work, Y/N,” he purred teasingly in your ear, “but we can work on that during our vacation, hmm?” With that he nipped your earlobe and stood up, carrying you bridal style to the ocean where he washed the two of you off before helping you redress.

As the two of you entered the beach house, you felt him tug you away from the direction of your room.

“Where do you think you’re going, my love? My room is this way,” he smirked before quickly you pulling you into his bedroom before his younger brothers noticed.

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