#Day 6 | Sorcery

[blametheeditor]

Voretober Day 6 | Sorcery

Voretober Prompt List

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If given the opportunity, would you take the chance to go to space and travel the stars? What if the person offering to take you was someone you trusted more than anyone else?

What if that person is no longer entirely human?

MENTIONS OF SOFT VORE

Content Warnings: Soft, non-sexual vore (only mentions for now). Mentions of body horror. Mentions of experimenting on people. Mentions of death and murder, violence. Being trapped against one's will. Dehumanization. Abductions. Cursing. Darker themes/tone

___________________________________

”Hey Vince?”

“Hm?” 

“What song are you singing?” Scott asked before he could lose his courage. He already felt bad for interrupting said singing, but he wanted to know what kind of song deserved to have the beat tapped out with a wooden spoon.

“’When The Doves Cry’,” Vincent responded, flashed a smile as he turned away from stove that was boiling some kind of pasta. “Prince came out with it a few months ago. It’s been everywhere, though, so I’m surprised you haven’t heard it.” 

Scott suddenly wanted to take back his question. There were reasons why he both hated and enjoyed asking Vincent questions. Because while his best friend always answered him and never made him feel stupid for asking something considered common sense, it always tended to snowball after that. Led the older teenager to discovering something about Scott that needed to be rectified. 

That wasn’t the part that worried him. When Vincent learned he had a rather limited palate that didn’t include candy, Scott started receiving random pieces whenever they saw each other, as well as the Cawthon’s kitchen getting taken over about once a week. But when he considered just how much Vincent adored music and constantly sings whenever he can, Scott couldn’t help feeling genuine fear this might be the last straw. 

So Scott decided to shrug. Turned back to his homework. 

A hand was placed over his notebook almost immediately, forced him to look up to meet a curious expression. “What aren’t you telling me, Scotty?” 

It was said teasingly, the way Vincent always asked when he knew he found yet another thing Scott was in the dark about. But all he could imagine was the cheshire grin turning into a fierce glare. 

Scott didn’t say anything. Earned a thoughtful hum. “Do you know who Prince is?” 

He couldn’t stop his eyes from widening in terror at getting found out. It made Vincent’s smile grow wider. “Scotty, don’t tell me you don’t know any current artist or songs.” 

“...no,” came out in a near silent whisper as his eyes dropped to the floor. He waited for the door to slam shut. For the food being cooked thrown down the sink. 

Neither happened. Vincent started to laugh. “All this time, and you’ve been letting me sing songs you’ve never heard before, and not once you wanted to ask if I was some kind of lyrical genius.” 

Scott tentatively looked up, surprised there was nothing but amusement on Vincent’s face. “I...I knew they came from somewhere. I just, uh, I-I like to hear you sing.” 

Because Scott had never met someone so loud before, unafraid to announce his presence and fill the air with words or singing just because they just felt like doing so. He also never thought people liked being musical outside of church, yet Vincent wouldn’t go anywhere without so much as humming something. 

It was nice. He knew Vincent was there even when the taller stood behind him. It always made everything less daunting, including the large house that surrounded them while they were the only ones inside. 

“For my voice, or for the music?” Vincent asked. 

“The music.” Scott then sputtered, tried to backtrack. “N-Not that your voice isn’t nice to listen to!” 

“You’d be hearing it if you didn’t like it,” the older sneered. “I’ll bring you some CD’s so you can sing with me, though.” 

Scott was suddenly scared for a different reason. “I don’t have, I mean I’d really appreciate it, but I can’t play them.” 

Vincent stared at him long and hard for a moment. “Because your parents wouldn’t approve, or because you have no CD player?” 

“Both,” he murmured. 

“You’re getting a player.” 

“B-But-!” 

“With headphones,” Vincent added as he turned back to the stove. Was careful as he drained the noodles to dump them into the sauce he made earlier. “Every teenager needs to know the national treasures that are Prince and Phil Collins. Including you, Scotty.” 

That was the end of it, Scott wouldn’t be getting out of it no matter how hard he tried. A small part of him didn’t want to somehow manage to change Vincent’s mind, though. 

He gave a thankful smile. “I don’t have to worry about there being any hymns, do I?” 

”Who the hell do you think I am, a priest?”

It hits Scott why watching Vincent cook doesn’t feel right. 

It has nothing to do with the distinctly alien ingredients being used, or the high-tech kitchen setup that provides only one utensil that can turn into anything from a knife to a spoon. They’re currently on the dubbed ‘small’ side of the ship so everything isn’t being done by a giant, and he’s much too familiar with the purple by now for it to really throw him off. 

No, it’s the distinct lack of singing. Vincent’s completely silent as he cuts open a fruit before dicing it up. A concept so foreign he listens intently in case the purple man is only humming. 

There’s nothing. Not a single note or even words being mouthed. It makes the kitchen feel stifling. 

“Aliens don’t have radios, do they?” 

He knows Vincent was expecting him to ask a question at some point, that’s the whole reason why the purple man is cooking. Doing something he finds to be calming while they have a much needed talk so difficult answers can be given instead of needing to take breaks. 

The look of surprise over the shoulder tells Scott that hadn’t been expected. “They do, though it’s used for reporting which sectors have been closed, if there’s a warrant out for someone’s arrest. Music can only be found on planets, and some have recordings you can buy if you know where to look, but nothing sounds like anything found on Earth.” 

It’s silent once more save for the sound of a knife slicing through the fruit. 

Scott takes a deep breath. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

The blade cuts through the skin completely, thunking against the counter. “About being able to become a giant?” 

“Yes.” 

Vincent slides the pieces into a pan. “I didn’t know how to bring it up.” 

“I’m not saying I would’ve done any better,” Scott begins, careful to keep his voice level. “But I would’ve appreciated a heads up. Maybe before I was face to face with a giant.” 

“That was a significant lapse in my judgement,” the purple man concedes as he starts cutting up another fruit. “I should’ve warned you instead of just saying I needed to show you something.” 

“Maybe even back on Earth?” Scott hedges. 

Vincent stops mid cut. Goes so still it’s hard to tell if he’s even breathing. “Would that have changed your decision?” 

It’s said almost fearfully. And with the purple man’s back toward him, Scott can’t see Vincent’s face. Can’t tell what he might be thinking. “Of coming to space with you?” 

“Yes.” 

“No,” is said so quickly, so vehemently, it has Vincent turning around so they’re facing each other. He might as well be stone, however, expression completely stoic. “It wouldn’t have changed my mind, Vincent.” 

It wouldn’t. It might’ve prepared him a little better for what he was getting himself into, but Scott still would’ve followed. Would’ve climbed onto the ship and went to space. Because like he’s said before, it’s still Vincent. Whether he’s purple, or giant, as long as it’s still his best friend he won’t care. 

Will certainly need time adjusting. Will put down rules he demands be followed with no exceptions. But he will never let Vincent leave without him. He just can’t be left in the dark, by his best friend of all people. 

“Scott,” Vincent begins almost monotone, fixing Scott with a stare that can easily be mistaken as a glare. “I need you to be honest with yourself. Would you really have come with me if I told you on your front porch that I could become big enough to hold you inside my hand.” 

“Why wouldn’t I have?” Scott borderline snaps back, admittedly a bit confused by the question, unsure where the conversation is going. 

The purple man’s brow furrows. “I’m not human, Scott.” 

“So?” 

“So?” Vincent all but spats. And finally, the confident attitude he’s been holding onto crumbles away as the purple man straightens up, using his height to properly loom over Scott. Starts talking with his hands as they gesture to accentuate his frustration. “What do you mean so? Look at me, Scott. Even if you didn’t know what I could do, you can tell after looking at me for two seconds that I'm some kind of monster. So even though I admit it was shitty of me to not tell you everything, what was I supposed to expect? That you wouldn’t immediately run away the moment I told you what I’m capable of?” 

“I wouldn’t run away from you!” 

Scott feels his fists clench as Vincent glares down at him, the distrust toward the proclomation obvious. And that's something that upsets the shorter more than he thought it would. Is a bit surprised by the anger coursing through him. 

Until he realizes he’s not just angry, he’s hurt. He’s hurt that Vincent thought Scott would’ve cared about it so much he wouldn’t have just been elated to finally have his best friend back. He’s hurt that Vincent assumed Scott would’ve taken one look at him and ignored everything they’ve been through together. He’s hurt that Vincent clearly doesn’t understand just how much Scott missed him. 

“Do you think that little of me?” Scott snaps. Ignores the burning feeling of tears threatening to spill. “My best friend vanished, gone without a trace, for 6, whole, years. And the moment I see him standing on the sidewalk right outside my house, you think I’d be focused on the fact you’ve changed? You think my first thought was ‘he’s a monster’ and not ‘oh God, my best friend is alive’?” 

Vincent’s glare starts to melt away. “No, I didn’t mean it that way.” 

“Oh, so you mean I would’ve been fine up until you tell me you were abducted by aliens, and therefore I would hold that against you?” Scott demands. “That I wouldn’t trust you anymore for something they did to you? Tell you to leave and say I never wanted to see you again because of something you couldn’t control?”

His chest heaves as he waits for a response. When Vincent is too stunned to do anything except watch him, Scott angrily wipes at his eyes. Looks away for a moment before sighing as meets his best friend’s searching gaze. 

“Vince, I don’t know what they did to you, and you don’t have to tell me everything unless you want to. The only thing I ask is you tell me things like being able to turn into a God forsaken giant so I’m ready for it. But I’m not going anywhere,” he swears. All but pleads for his words to be taken as the promise they are. “You’re not a monster. I’ll admit, you suddenly being 20 stories tall was terrifying, but not because I was scared of you. I was scared of the fact you were a literal giant because someone didn’t tell me such a thing was possible.”

The purple man stares at him for a moment, slightly perplexed. “You’re really not scared of me?”

“You’re Vincent,” Scott growls in exasperation. “There’s nothing to be scared of. Just the next time there’s going to be a hundred feet of you, warn me for God’s sake.”

Amber eyes stare uncomprehendingly. Then Vincent slowly nods his head. “Okay. I’ll warn you.” 

“Good.” Scott crosses his arms as he looks away, content on ending it there. When the purple man doesn’t say anything else or give any indication he’s also happy with this conclusion, the shorter adds “And if you want to talk, I’m always here.” 

They’re both silent for a good minute. When Vincent finally speaks, it’s in a soft whisper. “You...really don’t care?” 

Instead of validating that with a verbal response, Scott reaches up to smack the taller upside the head. Glares daggers when he’s given nothing except a blink. “Say ‘ow’.” 

His best friend’s lips are haltingly tugged into a smile. “Was that supposed to hurt?” 

“Say it, and then go finish cooking.” 

“Ow,” Vincent deadpans, complete with a small bow as he quickly steps away so another whack can’t be given. 

Scott doesn’t chase him down, opting to watch through narrowed eyes as his best friend obediently finishes cutting everything up to toss into the waiting pan. Feels his pounding heart slowly begin to calm back down, his curiosity getting the better of him as something starts to sizzle without a visible flame. 

He inches his way forward for a better position to watch the sorcery that is Vincent cooking, complete with soft humming as the fruits are seasoned and sauteed with a dramatic flare. 

“I’m sorry for not telling you, Scotty.” 

“I’m sorry for yelling.” 

"Not for the whack, though?” Vincent smirks. 

“You earned that,” Scott huffs. 

The very last of his anger from before dissipates with the rising steam as a bowl is passed over to him. He has no idea what any of the ingredients are, what they’re meant to taste like or what kind of dish is made when they all come together, but the smell makes his mouth water. 

He doesn’t need any encouragement to take a bite once a vaguely shaped fork is passed over. Though he does jolt in surprise at the rather sweet flavor flooding his mouth, it reminds him of potatoes. Specifically ones of a recipe Vincent made so long ago he had completely forgotten about until now. 

“What do you think?” the purple man asks. 

“It’s delicious,” Scott murmurs earnestly. His best friend has yet to ever make something that wasn’t. “I can’t believe you learned how to cook space food.” 

Vincent looks like he wants to say something. Goes so far as to open his mouth. Whatever it is, he decides against it as he looks toward a hallway opposite of where their original ship is docked. “So, about my offer on a tour.” 

Scott shifts. “I'm up for a tour.” 

[allpromarlo]

don’t let sukuna being a hater ass bitch distract you from the fact that yuji is HIM

[miscreantahead]

Bruhh I was so disinterested in the Elden Ring DLC even tho i didnt wanna be but I knew i had to kill Mohg in order to access it and I was like Im gonna be really mad at myself if I have to play some base game before I can play the DLC on the 21st. But, I forgot to kill Mohg or even do the second part of Mohgwyn Palace at all in my first playthrough, so it was all new and exciting unlike the stuff I'd already done, and tbh I forgot how much I love playing these games when it's something new.

[sburator]

"So what did you do on your vacation?" Me, closing my google doc gently because that old man and his older vamp are basking in post-orgasmic bliss and I don't want to disturb them. "Nothing."

So about a month ago I got bitten by the writing bug again. Seven thousand words and change, written after so long, felt like getting back on a bike. As in shaky, trying to remember what's what, feeling like I would fall at any time, and not knowing what I'm doing.

And then I couldn't stop. Seventeen thousand words and counting, just finished chapter 4. Has it always been easy? (no)

[harmoonix]

🌃⚡Stormy Astrology Notes⚡🌃

⚡ - Moon aspecting Mars can end up with anger issues, is because sometimes they know how to control their emotions and sometimes they don't

⚡ - Mercury in Sagittarius/Gemini might have a different way of expressing their words and the way they communicate might be also different than others

⚡ - Neptune aspecting Moon gives beautiful eyes and face features, definitely i think of angelic placements

⚡ - Natives with heavy Aquarius or 11th house placements are THE BIGGEST defenders of their friends, they won't let you to talk bad about their friends

⚡ - Heavy Taurus or Cancer placements can possess cooking talents or they just may like to cook and try different types of food

⚡ - Moon prominent in a chart makes the native sensbile, spiritual and magic, they have a mix of everything honestly because of their imense intuition and power

⚡ - Asteroid Devine (3561) in the 7th house can have a blessed relationship and the type of "I wish to have this type of relationship just like they have"

⚡ - Asteroid Pandora (55) aspecting Ascendant can be seen as someone who is always curious and looking for things to do, their curiosity might be too much sometimes

My reaction: 😍😍

⚡ - Mercury aspecting Moon or Venus are AMAZING artistically people, they are extremely talented in arts, acting, music painting etc..

⚡ - Lilith in Virgo/6H house is not an easy placements but is definitely not for the weak because Virgo who is the (Virgin) meets Lilith who is like the baddie who does naughty things and in this placement Lilith can embody both dark and light energy

⚡ - Lilith in Gemini/3rd house have kinks to love and hear their partners moaning or calling their names during breaking bed time, they love this

⚡ - Lilith in Cancer/4th house might be obsessed with their partners chest, or muscles they just habe this secret addiction to chest and muscles

⚡ - Aries Mars/Scorpio Mars and Sagittarius Mars are no joke when it comes to breaking bed time, they are REALLY into it without stopping...all day all night 🌃

⚡ - An UNDERATTED thing about Lilith - Sun aspects is that they love the dark aesthetic, dark movies, dark books, dark clothes everything basically who has this Darcie/Villain type of energy

⚡ - Asteroid Lilith (1181) aspecting Ascendant can't help it to make other people fall over them, they are always in someone's eyes and in someone's else heart

⚡ - Gemini in the 5th house/Gemini Venus may have multiple crushes or can end up as a love triangle between them..Yes I know this is not K-drama material but can feel like it

⚡ - You tell me you have Aquarius Venus or Aquarius Juno and your friends didn't fall for you?That's an rare event because people with these placements often end up with their friends falling for them or vice versa

⚡ - Hekate (100) - aspecting Ascendant is extremely spiritual gifted, and also embodying Hekate's energy, i love people with such placements..it always makes me think to Hekate putting them in the right path

⚡ - Hekate (100) aspecting Moon could have been a witch or having some business with sorcery in a past life because moon can repsent past life topics

⚡ - Having 11°, 23° degrees in your (Sun, Moon, Rising) can show gaming addiction, they might have a passion for gaming or playing games in general

⚡ - Having 4°, 16°, 28° degrees in your (Sun, Moon or Rising) can show an aesthetic related to sky/stars/celestials/ and even astrology they can love astronomy and study it

⚡ - Having 6°, 18° degrees in your (Sun, Moon or Rising) shows that you prioritize your health a lot, you like to keep yourself healthy and in good form and always trying to keep an balance

⚡ - Virgos and their obsession with cleaning is something else, if they find even a little crumb on the floor, they would clean it until their floor shines

⚡ - Libra/Taurus in Sun. Moon, Rising is the IT placement for being the "lover girl" kind of thing. Love is their thing since they are the being kids of Venus

⚡ - Nothing is as juicy as someone with Capricorn and Scorpio placements in their chart, they are the juiciest people you will ever met

⚡ - Psyche (16) - or Vesta (4) in water signs... How does it feel be a starchild?? Is honestly intense and beautiful, they were always giving this type of "I'm not from this world im just visiting"

⚡ - Neptune can repsent addiction aswell so people with a heavy Neptune in their chart may have different addictions to different things

⚡ - Pluto aspecting Mars placements are on the list of being the naughtiest people...Life can always get crazy if you have these aspects in your chart

⚡ - Air Placements really love the cloudy weather...well it kinda makes sense because they are represented by the air element but I mean the vibe this cloudy weather brings them

⚡ - Having 5°, 17°, or 29° degrees in your Sun, Moon or Rising gives that type of person who is always in the spotlight, they receive a good amount of attention and it can be anytime of it. Like people staring at you because they are curious or interested in you

⚡ - Not me discovering at 3 A.M that having Chiron in the 2nd, 4th, 8th and 12th houses just means you inherited pain 😭 like you have to carry some pain but that is coming from other people not you #staystrong

⚡ - Moon in Sagittarius/9th house can be really outgoing if you give them that chance, like you can see them dancing in the middle of the floor on some Nicki Minaj songs and you'd be still wondering if they are drunk on is just their personality (Applies if you have Moon in Sagittarius Degrees 9°. 21°)

⚡- Having 2°, 14°, 26° degrees in your Sun, Moon or Rising makes you so charming and lovely, this is truly someone who is beautiful inside and out and shares a good energy to people

⚡ - Girlie be having Pluto/Saturn in the 11th house and has either that type of friends who betray them either their friends become a lesson for them 😭

My reaction:

⚡ - Saturn in the 6th house/12th house natives be getting tried so fast, is like the energy goes out of them in the moment they wake up 😭😭

⚡ - People with the sister signs in their chart and either get along or hate eachother forever, for example: 2 Cancer Risings can like eachother and it can happen for 2 Virgo Risings to hate eachother

⚡ - Is very important for natives with Neptune in the 1st house or Neptune aspecting ascendant to be around good and positive people, because if they are around bad people these natives can get really easy influenced by others so please take care of your surroundings

⚡ - "I think I'll miss you forever" gives Pluto - Venus aspects and it's so true because those natives love the deepest

⚡ - Storms are magnificent and dangerous in the same time, especially seeing it at night, it's wonderful how mother nature wants to show the world how amazing she is ⚡

⚡- Hope you enjoyed the post, may your day be with a good vibe and light energy 🌃

H a r m ⚡ o o n i x

Harmoonix2023®

[cmdrfupa]

“Perfect match.” Was all Shoko could say before she introduced you to Kento upon his return to the world of sorcery. It was always no marriage until he retired from his role and Nanami knew he should’ve kept his word. But you were a welcomed change to his always-exhausted mental and a challenge to his monotonous life. He just wishes he could pinpoint where it went wrong.

Hello! Refer here for information about this ongoing series! I appreciate you reading and sharing! I hope you enjoy ✨

REFORM

We're only a train ride away. Love you, and come to us anytime.- Iori

You read the attached card to the cotton percale duvet set Utahime and Shoko got you months ago. They never saw the light of day during your separate room trial. Nanami and you seemed to find yourself in the comfort of each other's arms against your therapist's better judgment every time.

The room echoed as you shuffled around, throwing the rest of your undergarments in your duffel. The new room smell had been gradually overtaken in the past few weeks by the orchid-scented soy wax candle you had treasured in your once-shared bedroom.

"It is important to maintain physical and emotional boundaries while you sort through your emotions."

Your brain was buzzing with your therapist's words as you rechecked the dresser's drawers for good measure. 

You were used to the house being cold, as you and Nanami agreed that anything above 68 degrees was inhumane. But the lack of furniture in the guest bedroom brought it to a bone-chilling cold. 

Air humidifier quietly hummed in the distant corner, the last bag of belongings on your shoulder as you walked down the hall one more time.

"Ken?" The living room showed no signs of him, and his keys were gone.

Was probably for the best he wasn’t there.

You left the note against a short glass on the wet bar in den. “Can’t say he didn’t see it if it’s sitting here.”

No argument. No tempting to keep you home.

You were gone.

  Divorce was going to be your demand until your mother said that was too harsh for a couple who hadn't tried counseling yet. Initially, you and Nanami decided on therapy and a few more date nights.

After the first two sessions, you both promised to make the pertinent changes to save your marriage. You almost had a bit of faith for a while as you made minor adjustments per your therapist's suggestion. But that never occurred from his end. 

You asked for a separation that would become legal once you figured out the following steps: living arrangements or possibly going back to your sorcerer clan and training whoever Gojo sent to you. Your options were not only limited but far more depressing than you realized. That night, Kento watched you move your belongings to the guest bedroom, giving up on making things right far too soon.

Living in the same home but being separated created a surreal and often uncomfortable atmosphere Nanami didn't expect. 

After six years of marriage, a sense of familiarity came with your daily routine—the smell of Chickory coffee brewing promptly at 6:30 as you hummed your gentle tunes, precisely putting on your makeup was his wake-up call. However, the feeling of being disconnected and distant became far more prominent when he reached over, and only a decorative pillow was in your place. Your hums were too far away to enjoy. Another rough morning. He sat on the side of the bed, gruffing as he scooted his feet into the slippers.

The sleep wore off as he walked towards the kitchen, the bright, smelling coffee filling his nostrils with each slothful step. As he hit the threshold, your familiar happy hum hit his ears. With your back to him, you stood there tasting your coffee, your robe hanging off your shoulders, your scarf wrapped to protect your hair loosely held on. "Mm. Just a little more creamer."

"Think of agreeing on scheduled times to use spaces like the kitchen. They can still make enough coffee for both of you if they like, but allow the other person time to make their coffee and leave the kitchen before you go to make yours."

The therapist gave the piss poor idea, and you ran with it. A stranger telling you what needs to be done regarding your marriage. And yet he did it because he wanted to make anything work with you, even if he genuinely thought it was a waste. You knew him; you knew everything about him. You'd known him at his worst and wanted marriage counseling to help pick apart something good from Kento's perspective.

He turned and stood in the hallway, putting himself directly in line with you. His heart ached, wishing he could steal a kiss and wrap himself around you the same way he had for years.

_____________________

The ticking clock filled your den's silence as you and Kento took a break from verbally jousting for the fourth time that week.

He'd come home after not calling you back much earlier in the day. You’d heard about a special grade curse roaming between the school and the local city hall he volunteered to see about. No communication, no sign of remorse.

"We've made strides." Kento slumped back into the chair, watching how your leg shook with each empty moment he created. "I'm home more; only every other Saturday is mandatory now, and we've been going to counseling. Is this not enough for you? Am I the only one expected to change?"

"We've gone to two sessions. Which the first you left early and the second you showed up in the last 15 minutes." Patience had run thin and the grace you were always willing to extend had worn. "You avoid discussing scheduling the next one even when its a good day for you. I have done everything but change my fucking first name for the sake of trying, Kento."

Kento swirled the bourbon absentmindedly. The conversation was going in circles yet again. "I have changed everything you've complained about. I asked what you needed from me as your husband, and you gave me nothing to work with other than you want to know how I'm feeling. Honey. I'm fucking tired is how I’m feeling and this isn’t helping. What's missing?"

You could only muster a laugh to keep the flood of tears from invading. "I feel like I'm forcing you to tell me anything more than half the time, Ken. Like I only get parts of you while everyone else gets all of you. Do I not deserve that? What's changed? What are we doing?"

His rich eyes found yours for a quick moment. "We're doing what you've been begging me to do. We're talking now."

—————————

"Well fuck, you said that? No wonder she's staying with Utahime."

A bitter taste punched the back of Nanami's throat before he looked over in Gojo's direction. 

It had been four months since that night, and he'd made it everyone's problem since. More annoyed than usual at work, Nanami had a quicker temper towards all staff and was facing his hell going back to an empty house night after night.

  "Despite me being the hottest, most desired person you've known since high school-"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Let me finish, Nanami." Gojo sipped his piña colada and licked his lips in the most bothersome manner possible. "Despite being gorgeous and desired, I am also very knowledgeable about relationships and everyone else's business."

From the end of the bar, Kento signaled for another whiskey sour.

"Alright. Tell me what you've perceived, six eyes."

Gojo sat up straight on the bar stool as if he had an audience to entertain. "Your wife often called me when she couldn't contact you. She called me asking if I'd heard from you when you would go on missions alone. I was giving her status updates on you. Why?"

Celebratory sounds filled the bar as the college students slammed another round of shots in the brightly lit booth in the corner. 

The ring on Kentos' finger suddenly felt five sizes too small.

"Utahime, of all people, called me when you weren't answering because she showed up scared shitless." boisterous cheers filled the space as someone named Jai chugged a pint down. 

"Your partner got on a 3 1/2 hour train ride to Kyoto when she didn't hear from you. When were you upset about seeing me at your house after midnight that night? I was there because I happily drove over 6 hours back and forth to get your wife."

"Enough, Gojo," the drinks seemed weaker as he downed this one in a single gulp before getting the barkeep's attention. "Another one, please."

Gojo knew he had a few more buttons to press before he could stop. "The day after her birthday, she called Shoko and started crying. Sobbing, really." slurping the last remnants of his colada, Gojo sighed heavily.

"Gojo." Nanami gripped the glass before him, muttering his name.

"Upset that you found something to nitpick before completely shutting her out. You're a real piece of work, you know."

Gojo had no time to move before Kento grabbed him by the collar.

"If I shove the stem of this glass through your ears, how far do you think it'll go?"

"Someone's touchy, Nami." The bar quieted by a few decibels as nearby patrons watched Nanami hold Gojo by his neck. "Those whiskey sours are starting to get to that blonde head of yours." Gojo's cheeky tone was like that of a toddler who had gotten someone in trouble.

Gojo cheesed as Kento let go of his collar.

Nanami downed the remainder of his drink, and the bartender wasted no time making his next one.

"Wanna talk now instead of making empty threats?" Gojo drank a sip of water before licking the sugary rim of his glass.

"I fucked up, Gojo." He was left with this: a late Saturday evening at a college bar, talking to Satoru about his failing marriage. Patting his breast pocket, Nanami seethed at the words written on the note you left him. "She said she doesn't recognize her Kento. That I'ma ghost of him or whatever."

Part of Gojo hated seeing Nanami sulking this way. Sure, they never saw eye to eye for years, but you were a common factor in their lives.

A positive one. And Nanami knew just as well as Gojo that they were the two men who knew you best.

You were hurting, but so was Nanami. And Gojo knew why.

"Nanami. Talk with your wife."

"We talked every damn day."

"No. You talk to her like she’s some intern you have a grudge against. It would help if you talked with her like a man who's afraid of losing his wife."

"How the fuck do you know so much about this?" Nanami managed to squint, his vision officially tanking as Gojo became a slightly hazy figure of himself.

"Elle magazine talks about shitty husbands pretty frequently. I read it often and can confidently say you aren't alone in the shitty husband community."

Sleep wasn't coming easy for you. You tossed around for 3 hours before getting up to sit out on the balcony, hoping the late-night breezes would calm you. The clouds broke sparingly, allowing the moon to peek through while you watched the stars try to shimmer through the thick blankets.

Four months of staying at Utahime's old home back in Kyoto led you to return to Tokyo because you knew putting off the divorce was doing more harm than good. You weren't running away. You just needed a break from seeing him in every hallway or advisory meeting.

With some help from Gojo, you hired a great lawyer who drew up the divorce papers within 12 hours, giving you a chance to serve them yourself when you stopped thinking about how the opportunity to do it would come up.

Feeling slightly more relaxed, you shuffled back in, locking up until a recognizable tone struck your ears.

"It's your husband. Please open the door," A familiar voice groaned from the other side of the door.

"Please. Gojo told me you were back in town staying with Shoko." His words slurred as he pounded on the door. The neighbors were definitely not pleased to hear a drunken ruckus this late.

"I need to see you. I need you." A thud got you to move swiftly to the door, opening it to find Kento with his forehead against the wall next to it. "Thank fuck." He lifted his head slowly as if it weighed more than the earth.

"What are you doing here? Did you drive?" The warm air of the hallway rushed into the condo as you stood in the doorway.

He was like a lost puppy. Warm eyes low like he couldn't look at you without guilt eating him alive. "No. No no. Gojo got me a cab." You saw blood on his hand as he brought his phone to your face. "Can you tell him I made it safely?"

Gojo got him a cab. Here. You'd be talking to him about this stunt later.

"Ken, you're bleeding."

"It's just a small scratch. It'll be fine."

Come in, and I'll wake Shoko to look at it."

"She already hates me for being a shit husband to you." The gash in his palm wasn't urgent, but the amount of blood on his arms showed it still needed attention. He finally dared to look you in the eyes as he spoke, "I'm fine."

"Can you fucking stop and let me help?" You tried hiding your longing behind your voice's assertion, but that didn't escape him. He couldn't stop trying to push you further away. Distance, at this point, felt like the only solution.

"I'm fine. Stop." The firmness in his voice forced you to take half a step back.

This wasn't a buzz from a few drinks with Shoko after work; this was Kento hammered, which was hard to get to but possible.

This state of drunkenness only happened once, and it was after being released from the hospital post-Shibuya. You watched him drink himself to sleep for months, telling yourself everyone has a vice while trying to have understanding. But it became too much for you and everyone close. Nanami's drinking was getting unmanageable yet again.

You grabbed his uninjured hand and led him into the apartment. Inert moonlight streamed across the room, and the dimly lit recessed lights were your only lighting source. You placed him in front of the kitchen sink, letting the water run over the wound. "Stand here, don't move your hand from under the water, and don't talk."

He watched you march away to rustle through the guest bathroom cabinet before emerging with a first aid kit. Without uttering a word, you stood beside him, watching the pinkish-red water circle down the drain until it cleared.

Gently patting his hand dry with gauze before spraying saline solution around the wound, you broke the silence. "How did you cut your hand."

A deep breath that smelt of pure alcohol filled the gap between you. "Grabbed a broken glass at the bar." hiccuping, Kento pressed up against the counter. "Broke it after some guy said Gojo and I were a cute couple."

Surely, you misheard him. "What? You tried to stab him?"

Kento smirked as he watched your bewildered eyes. "I'm not one for stabbing. You know I'm more of a slashing type of man, baby."

It's like the wires in your mind got sewn together. The tired smile growing on your face soothed that itch Nanami had for weeks. "I suppose."

Nanami scanned your arms and shoulders as you remained in close contact with his left side. He knew your skin was just as soft as it was months ago. Supple and warm when he would run his knuckles across your thighs during his evening unwind. A dull pain from the cold feeling of tweezers in his hand brought him back. "Shit." grunting through the uncomfortable feeling.

Small glass fragments clanged into the dish as you dropped it. "None of the pieces got too deep into the wound."

As you finished cleaning the wound, a few drops of blood surfaced. You quickly grabbed another clean gauze, tenderly covering the wound before applying gentle pressure to Nanami's palm. His fingers instinctively gripped around your hand as if holding on to you would make sure you wouldn't vanish from his side.

The close proximity made your throat dry as you dried the wound again, patting it more than necessary to avoid his knowing gaze. "Almost done." You opened the sterile pad and placed it on his wound, holding it down while you tried unraveling the rolled bandage with the chin and hand combo.

He watched you intently, knowing that all he needed was for you to look at him. He was burning to see a sign that you still hadn't totally given up on him. Kento needed to know he had someone with his best interest at heart, even if he couldn't be vulnerable without being an intoxicated mess.

You carefully tore the bandage and expertly wrapped it around his hand before tying it off. "And there we go." Trying to prolong the cleanup only made the air heavy while Kento watched you closely. For every two steps you took, he took four to stay close to you. "Are you close enough?" the heat from his upper body radiated on your back as you wiped the counter down. "Unfortunately, no. I'd rather be under your skin and inside of you, but I'm trying to work on earning that privilege back." "Kento." "Yes, my love?" Any attempt at a casual facade was gone, unable to shake the emotions that threatened to consume you both. "You can take the guest bedroom, and I'll take the couch. It's too late for you to go anywhere." Kento closed in a few inches. "We could both sleep in the guest bed. Ample space, no?" The low lights in the kitchen cast a warm, intimate glow over the room, and you became keenly aware of the scent of whiskey and his Initio Phsychadelic Love cologne as you moved closer. "Nothing more than sleeping." "Nothing more than sleeping. What else would we do in bed?"

There would always be a chance of falling back into the same routine. Apologies, sex that silenced the blaring alarms in your mind, a week of cohabitating in peace before the cycle of low-effort communication and quiet dinners would resurface. But, you allowed the only intimacy you yearned for the last month.

His arms surround you like a tight-fitting sweater taking you in. His arms were your shelter, and your heartbeat motivated him to live. You'd settled into the queen-sized bed after both successfully fighting off very apparent sexual tension marinating between you both. His lips traveled across your chest. Faint kisses left on every available part of your skin as you combed through his light locks. "I want to go back to therapy. I promise I'll be open and try." The feeling of his stubble-covered chin rested on your sternum. Looking down to meet those glossy brown eyes that showed exhaustion and the early stages of sobering up.

"I want honesty. No half-ass truths while there, Kento." "No half-ass truths from me as long as you are transparent about your thoughts. You can't HR yourself out of sharing your raw thoughts." Sticking your pinky out, you waited for Kento to link his. No hesitation, he locked his pinky around yours.

"We'll make it work. I swear on my life.”

[tolkienhorrorweek]

Welcome to Tolkien Horror Week! This is a new event, following in the footsteps of Terrifying Tolkien Week, last run in 2019. This event celebrates all things spooky and creepy in Tolkien's work—both the things he tells us explicitly and the things he leaves up to our imaginations.

The event will run from October 27th to November 2nd and accepts all types of fanworks. There is an AO3 collection for the event here.

Below are some suggested prompts for each day of the week. They are not mandatory; feel free to combine them or disregard them entirely.

Day 1: Angband & Utumno | seeth all things crooked | captivity Day 2: Angmar, Rhudaur, & Minas Morgul | of such dread and dark enchantment | sorcery Day 3: Mordor & the Dead Marshes | the pitiless land | control Day 4: The Barrow-downs & the Old Forest | the clinging mists | corruption Day 5: Mirkwood, Nan Elmoth, & Taur-nu-Fuin | the shadows grew long in the forest | hunting Day 6: Nan Dungortheb & the Paths of the Dead | by perilous paths | terror Day 7: Isengard, Moria, & Númenor | we cannot get out | trapped

Please mention @tolkienhorrorweek in the body of your post and tag #tolkienhorrorweek and #tolkienhorrorweek2024 in the first 10 tags. You may also submit a post.

Given the nature of the event, please also tag for any potential triggers or content warnings and place any NSFW content beneath a read more/link to AO3.

For more information, please see the FAQ. If you have any questions, drop them in the ask box.

Art is by Alan Lee.

[esggs]

Obeisance to the Arrow - Noritoshi Kamo

#7 : Jealousy, Jealousy  

[Who are you calling 'onii-chan'? And why does Noritoshi hate it so much?]

[tw: noritoshi kamo x reader, arranged marriage, forced marriage, child marriage, mentions of adultery, couple slurs ig, jealous and pissed noritoshi, reader gets a crush on a non-noritoshi entity, fluff]

#6 - Husbandly Duties #8 - Ice-Cream Date

Noritoshi Kamo was nothing if not a responsible man. If he’s been given a wife to be responsible for, he’ll damn well make sure that he’s doing it properly. It doesn’t matter that the said wife is 14 years old. That’s why he’s already halfway through ‘Raising A Strong Teen Girl: Tips and Tricks for the Single Mother’ in the Kamo library, only two days after the wedding ceremony. Noritoshi Kamo, as we asserted earlier, takes his responsibilities seriously. 

The family is still mad at him for agreeing to Gojo’s demands yesterday. But what’s done is done: you will be attending Jujutsu High. In a week, in fact. The best way to proceed, Noritoshi believed, was to arm you to do your best there. 

You’re scrolling through Instagram when Noritoshi sits on the sofa next to you. Just as the book says, Rule 1: Always maintain a comfortable environment with your difficult teen. “Morning” He greets you. You ignore him. Fucking brat. “Alright then, I see you’re busy. I had some extra dango I wanted to share, but I can-”

“- I’ll have it.” Your attention is still on your phone, but at least you’re talking to him. The book’s working. Rule 2: Offer incentives for good behaviour. 

“The dango comes after though. We have to talk about your schooling first.” 

“UGH!” You look at him with such disgust in your eyes. It’s okay, Noritoshi, she just lacks proper communication skills. Remember, you're the older one. Be calm, be calm… “Fucking fine! What’s there to talk about?”

It must be noted here that this behaviour was reserved only for Noritoshi. With the servants you were kind. With the elders, you were polite and obedient to the bone, having been training to be so since childhood. And with the young Kamo kids, you were jolly friends. 

You weren’t stupid though. Your relations with the above mentioned people were set in stone. With Noritoshi, you know, that the relationship you set when your marriage is still raw will set the tone of your relationship for the rest of your lives. If you were to behave with subservience now, he’ll expect you to lick his feet forever. No, now is the time to be difficult, to upset the power balance, to get the upper hand – 

How the fuck did I get stuck here?

Noritoshi is droning on and on. You’ve lost track a good while ago. Ancient sorcery clans…past users of Distillation… respectable martial arts for nobility…Kamo heritage…proper curtsies…student discipline… Everything that Noritoshi deems important for you to know, he's making sure that you know it. He's even got the whiteboard out.

At least you can chew on the dango Noritoshi gave you. You simply nod along to whatever Noritoshi is saying, not hearing a word, happy to be given dango. From Noritoshi’s point of view, even though you’re not participating in his lessons, you’re still acting decently. Rule 3: Expect only minor behavioural improvements over time. You're not snappy; your husband is happy enough. 

Or so he thought. Why then, is he watching you giggling and playing around with, of all people in the universe, his goddamn half-brother?

—-

Miyumi, the wife of Noritoshi’s father, never extended her open and visceral hatred of Noritoshi towards you. She’s been like a caring aunt to you all your life, helping you adjust to the Kamo household when you first stepped foot in there, letting you go without doing any chores, and supplying you with as much freedom as she could vouch for. Like most of the Kamo women, she pitied you too. 

Of course, not a drop of that pity extended to Noritoshi. Not only was he constant proof of her husband’s adultery, he had also replaced her son, Kanato, as the rightful heir. Unlike most Kamo couples, Miyumi and Noritoshi’s father had actually married out of love. She had remained in love, devoted, beautiful, caring, high-status, respectful, obedient to him all her life, even bearing him a firstborn son– only to be replaced in one fell swoop. And by whom? A low-class non-sorcerer whore? With a dirty little kid simply because he could toss some blood around? 

Miyumi couldn’t even bear the sight of Noritoshi.

She didn’t mind hearing you complain about him though. She liked it when you visited her chambers, she liked talking with you. After so many years, she knew that her hatred was pointless, but the inertia of the hate did carry her forward in this stifling household. As she poured you another cup of tea while you talked about Noritoshi’s newfound determination to be a (boring) teacher who only talked about martial arts without actually letting you practise it, Miyumi smiled and called for her son. 

“He’s just back from Oxford for a week, he’s studying political history there. You haven’t met him, I suppose, little one?”

You shake your head. “I haven’t, Miyu-chan.”

Kanato’s heavy footsteps on the wooden flooring herald his arrival. 

You remember this moment for the rest of your life. Kanato Kamo, your first ever crush. Tall, lean, angel-faced, short hair dyed blonde, wearing pearls on his neck and opals on his fingers, eyeliner on his thin eyes, and a piercing above his smiling lips. Why was he walking in slow-motion? Why did your heart jump when he petted your head? Why did his voice sound like rich dark chocolates when he asked you to call him ‘onii-chan?’ Why… why does his face look so much like Noritoshi?

Your husband, Noritoshi, and his half-brother, Kanato, both look exactly like their father. Even though Kanato is a thousand times cooler and he’s in college and he wears his yakuta like a prince and you call him ‘onii-chan’ and he says he’ll teach you how to spar hand-to-hand.

Miyumi is pleased that you two get along well. Kanato chuckles at his mother's adoration for you, promising with a wink to take great care of you. You think you almost swoon.

—-

For one, Noritoshi didn’t know that Kanato was back home. Two, he definitely didn’t know that Kanato was back home to fool around with his wife. Why then is he now watching you giggling and playing around with, of all the people in the universe, his goddamn half-brother?

“Kanato.” Noritoshi slides open the door to the training rooms. It’s pretty big, stored with various weapons, targets and dummies to practise with, and lined with a soft mattress to break falls. Noritoshi was just here to shoot some arrows when he chanced upon this scene. “I did not know that you were here.”

All three of you noted that Noritoshi called his elder half-brother by his name. Yes, Noritoshi did rank higher than Kanato, but he was still younger in age. So it’s like that, huh, Noritoshi?

“It’s a big house, Noritoshi-san. It’s hard to keep track of everyone.” Noritoshi watches as Kanato winks at you and you laugh again, a blush on your face. (“Everyone, including your young wife.”)  “I was just teaching my little sister here the basics of karate. Since she’s going to Jujutsu High and all.”

“I see.” Noritoshi’s voice is measured. For the first time, it clicks in your head that he might not be happy seeing you so comfortable with his half-brother. And for whatever reason, you actually feel a little bad about it. “I’ll finish her lessons today then, Kanato. Why don’t you go rest a bit? You'd need it, I presume.” It’s clear that there’s bad blood between the brothers. Both just toe the line between politeness and hostility. 

“Presume less, little brother, you worry too much about me. I’m afraid I’ll have to finish her lessons myself, though.” Kanato grins wide. “Since she asked me to, herself.” 

For a second, you think they’ll throw hands (they don’t). You’re starting to think that it isn’t even about you. They simply cannot stand each other. In that case, you choose to pipe up, “I think I’d like to retire actually, I’m tired. Thank you for the tutorial, onii-chan.” You smile at Kanato, who returns the smile, and turn to appease your husband. “Noritoshi-san, if you could help me to my chambers?”

“Of course.” Noritoshi gives you an arm. You wave Kanato good-bye as you walk down the long corridors to your room. As soon as you two are out of earshot, his words bite. “Antagonising me will get you nowhere.”

You get it, really. Kanato’s very existence ruffles all of Noritoshi’s feathers. And to see him get this questionably friendly with his wife… yeah, it’s best not to mention the crush at all. You decide that even though you haven’t done anything wrong per se, but it’s still hurtful to Noritoshi. All right then, you decide. I’ll humour him this one time. 

So imagine his surprise when he actually hears you apologise. You've never been anything but rude or indifferent to him; to hear you say that you didn’t realise how your actions looked on the outside, and promise that you won’t be like that again! It genuinely shocks Noritoshi out of the sulky angry mood he’d slipped into. Rule 4: Always reward any good behaviour. 

Noritoshi gets you two things: another plate of dango and a promise to teach you to spar himself. Maybe, you decide, cheeks full of sweet dango, it’s okay to be nice to Noritoshi, just now and then.

bonus:

“Noritoshi’s still being an ass, I see. Not a lot’s changed here.” Kanato is lazily scrounging through his mother’s collection of jewellery. Kanato likes the more minimalistic ones, a tad bit on the high-fashion hippie line. Miyumi is happy to oblige her son, despite his father’s disapproval. Not like he approves of Kanato in any way. Not since Noritoshi, the perfect son, exists. Besides, he’ll be back to England soon. 

Miyumi’s eyes sharpen at his mention. “My god, did that brat do something to you again? I swear, I–”

“Whoa, mother, no.” Kanato, ever smiling, calms her down. “He was just super jealous that I was training with that kid. y/n. Honestly, mother, I think it was adorable. I just don’t like the way he speaks to me.”

“He has no manners. Do you know he goes out of his way to avoid me?” Miyumi sees her son pick up two lockets, one a Kamo family crest engraved on hard mahogany, another a pattern of ducks in emeralds and rubies. “Don’t bother choosing, take both.” 

“You sure, mother? I’ll kidnap some of your earrings too.”

“Yes, yes, when do I even wear them? Just don’t get them rusted.”

Kanato smiles.

next chapter: #8 - Ice-Cream Date

a/n: are they.. no i shan't say it... warming up... caring about each other's feelings... oh my...

what if reader gets jealous? here u go: Hey Handsome!

img

[sorcerous-caress]

Meta Magic Seduction | Rolan

[ smut, fluff, starts intense then becomes playful, Dom!reader, Nb!reader, Bottom!reader, sub!Rolan, magic foreplay. ]

[ Reader is a sorcerer ]

"Cat got your tongue, wizard?"

If only looks could kill, you'd have been 6 feet under by now. And if things were any different, maybe a spell or two would've done the honours instead.

Alas, wizards tend to be quite useless with their mouth all gagged and pretty. Such a shame they can't comprehend the simplest magic tricks of sorcery.

Pushing your fingers deeper into his mouth, Rolan's incomprehensible mumbling only got worse as you reached the back of his throat.

Looking into his abyssal eyes, two golden rings met your gaze. You dared him to bite down or even think of scratching your delicate skin with his teeth.

"Where's your magic now?"

You rolled your hips, forcing a moan after another out of him. His leaking cock squeezed between his own body and your plush thighs. Teasing the thing each time you moved and grinded your hips on top of it.

Light began bending around his hands, sparks flew and a faint glow grew brighter and brighter as he attempted to channel the weave yet again.

You pressed your fingers harder against his tongue, holding it between your two fingers and rubbing it.

The magic fizzled immediately. Without a spoken incantation, his cute little studious magic education was worthless.

You've wanted to do this since the first time you met him, his cocky attitude, his air of false superiority. They just let anyone become a wizard these days, apparently.

But even then, these wizards really forgot their place, first Gale and now Rolan. It's about time you reminded them that no matter how much knowledge they shove down their throats, they will never be chosen by the weave itself like you were.

You are magic incarnation itself. and the only use you have of any wizard is to serve you. That's their true purpose that they forgot.

"And you call yourself a mage, pathetic." After his second failed attempt at casting anything, not even a simple cantrip, you retracted your fingers from his mouth.

Grabbing one of his horns, you pulled his face closer to yours as you observed the mess you made out of him. A look of anger and shame filled his eyes, breathing heavily with drool dripping down the corner of his lips.

But you weren't blind. You saw clearly behind the curtains of hate he veiled his every emotion with. You saw pure arousal.

Pressing your lips against his, Rolan tried resisting you at first, but that act of his quickly faded away as he melted into your mouth. Forgetting his own anger for a second at the taste of your lips, your tongue against his and god, did you always smell so good-

A sudden heat sparked at the tip of his tail, making him jolt as his eyes flew wide open.

With the hold on his horn, you kept him in place, your other hand raised as a flame slowly evaporated from your hand.

Deepening the kiss, you silently cast another spell. A sharp shard of ice resembling a knife. Carefully holding it between your fingers as you ran it over the tip of his tail, slowly teasing the ridges and bumps.

"Look at me." You broke the kiss, "open your mouth wider."

With a look of disbelief, Rolan's eyes darted between you and the ice knife. "You can't be seriously considering-"

Another pull on his horn, "I said open wide. Wizard."

You felt his cock twitch under you. He closed his eyes before opening his mouth in defeat, hands clenched and lips trembling.

"Good, now look at me." For a person who's supposed to be good at following spell instructions, it was honestly embarrassing how much wizards struggled with simple orders.

Rolan begrudgingly obeyed, eyes looking up at you in total submission as his mouth stayed open wide.

"Good boy."

Pressing the flat side of the ice knife on his tongue, the coldness contrasted against the heat inside him. His attempt at squirming to escape the cold only led to his cock getting rubbed against you ever more.

Dragging the knife slowly on his tongue, you watched the sharp edges dull and melt away, leaving nothing but a trail of water dripping from his mouth alongside his own drool.

"You really are a mess if you only could see yourself right now."

Leaning behind, you grabbed his cock from under you as you held the swollen thing in your hand, giving it a firm pump.

"A leaking mess from both ends, very fitting."

With a few more pumps, you forced moan after moan from his mouth. You've been edging him for what felt like hours, and you had no doubt he'd do anything you ask of him for release.

"Tell me, wizard, do you know what education sorcerers get about their magic?" You pressed your thumb against the slit on his cockhead, toying with it and rubbing the sensitive head.

Any attempt Rolan made at speaking ended up being incomprehensible, nothing was even gagging his mouth. Maybe you accidentally fried his brain, how disappointing.

He settled for shaking his head instead.

"None. We get nothing." You tightened your grip against the base of his cock while still toying with the head with the other hand. "You either control it, or die trying."

Your hands were drenched in his precum, the wet sounds of you pumping his cock got louder the faster you went.

"We grew up very aware of our own fragile morality, which is why you don't see us blowing up ourselves very often, you know like your kind tends to do." He was nodding along, clearly brainless and not even comprehending a single word you're saying.

He was getting close, his tail was moving wildly and his thighs were shaking under you.

"You think you can just throw money to buy scrolls and learn spells, as if true magic can ever be bought."

Keeping up the brutal pace, you kept speaking. "Rolan, do you want to cum?"

His haze filled eyes stared at you in desperation, tears collecting at the corners of them. Somehow his skin was even redder than it normally is.

"Ple…" his breath was shaky, "please." He frantically nodded.

You smiled at him.

"Then beg."

Stopping your movement, you gave his cock one final squeeze before leaving it to the cold night air.

"No…nonono you can't I was" To your disappointment, his hand unconsciously reached over to stroke his cock.

You slapped his hand away. To your surprise, he reacted quickly as his hands glowed, lips moving to whisper an incantation.

Not wasting a second, you were even quicker in altering your magic. It barely took any effort to conjure a square beneath him that completely paralysed his body.

"You really don't understand it, do you? Or maybe you simply just can't? It's embarrassing to still be unable to comprehend how much better I am than you in every way." Concentrating on keeping your spell active, you let him completely drink in the feeling of being bound and unable to move below you.

"I thought wizards are supposed to be intelligent, But what's the point of being very smart if you have the wisdom of a magic 8 ball?" Dismissing the square of magic, Rolan was free to move again.

"How did you-"

"I am faster than you, and I can cast more spells in less time. It was never a competition to begin with." You looked at him with disappointment, "and I thought you agreed to obey beforehand when we negotiated how this would go. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Taking a deep breath, Rolan steadied himself as he spoke. "I wasn't thinking….I apologise. My lips moved on their own, and I don't even remember what spell I was casting."

Your gaze softened as you cupped his face gently, "do you want a break? Maybe get some water or just completely stop."

With a quiet chuckle, Rolan shook his head, "by the nine hells no. But thank you, for stopping me"

You smiled at him, "Now, where were we?..."

Moving your hand from his face, you reached upwards as you tugged his horns again. "Oh yes. Beg."

A whine died at the back of Rolan's throat, "please…let me cum" his cock throbbed.

"And why should I? You've been nothing but useless this entire time. What do they even teach you at these schools?" You pulled his horn more, making him wince in pain as he bit his lips to try and suppress the sounds.

Rolan swallowed his pride as he looked at you with pleading eyes. "Please…please mighty sorcerer, let this pathetic wizard cum."

With a snort, you let go of his horns at his embarrassing words. "Maybe there is a use for you after all."

Raising your hips, you moved his cock with your hand until it pressed against the tightness of your entrance. Rolan's breath hitched as his lips trembled. His cock smearing precum against your opening.

Leaning over, you pressed your lips to his again. With a slow sensual kiss, you left his mouth hanging open afterwards. Looked him in the eyes as you opened yours just above his, spitting into his mouth.

"Maybe if I get enough of my fluids inside you, you'll end up with some of my magic." You watched him keep your spit in his mouth, struggling not to swallow it yet. "I guess in a way that'd make me your patron wouldn't it."

Giving him the permission to swallow, you felt his needy cock pressing more against your hole.

"Although you'd end up as a warlock then, wouldn't you?" Pushing your hips down slowly, you felt him stretch you open. "Ah I'm just kidding, after all who would ever want to fuck a warlock?" You saw the corners of his lips curl into a smile as he suppressed a laugh.

Your tightness enveloped him, inch by inch until he bottomed out inside you. His hands held onto your thighs as the pleasure overwhelmed him. Never daring to move his hips as he handed all of the control over to you.

Rocking yourself, you moved your hips at a slow pace. Your insides memorising the shape of his cock and making you the perfect fit. Pressing against all the good spots that made your hips stutter.

Rolan was struggling not to crumble, especially after all that edging. He just entered you, and he can feel his orgasm approaching fast. The way you bounced on his cock, the way your hips moved and how powerful you looked above him, it was all very overwhelming.

"I don't think…I can hold on much more." He breathed out, leaving marks on your thighs from how tightly he was gripping them.

"You may cum, Wizard. Be a good boy and do it for me, completely humiliate yourself for my amusement." You moved your hips faster, in and out, using his horns to steady yourself as you kept riding him.

True to his words, he barely lasted a minute more before white clouded his vision. Filling your insides with his seed and becoming a moaning mess in the process.

You felt him soften inside of you as you came to a stop. Giving a chance for the both of you to catch your breath.

You gave him another kiss, a quick one as you kissed the corner of his lips, moving to his cheek, then finally his forehead.

His arms wrapped around you in a hug.

"How are you feeling?" you whispered against his skin.

With an amused expression, he said. "Like I have more magic inside me now."

"I should've kept you in that hold spell, Rolan."

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

A Cat in the Kitchen

Part 1 (ft. Riddle and Silver) I Part 2 (ft. Trey and Kalim) I Part 3 (ft. Jade and Lilia) I Part 4 (ft. Deuce and Jamil) I Part 5 (ft. Malleus and Ruggie) | Part 6 (ft. Cater and Rook) | Part 7 (ft. Sebek and Floyd) | Part 8 (ft. Ace and Idia) | Part 9 (ft. Leona and Epel) | Part 10 (ft. Jack and Vil)

In which Gordon Ramsay-kun is isekai’d into Twisted Wonderland. Part Food Wars, part Hell’s Kitchen, all Master Chef—Night Raven College isn’t ready to take on this Michelin Star celebrity!!

Ready for a short supplementary cooking class?🌟 A day in the life of Prefect Gordon and his familiar Grim, told in three parts: breakfast, lunch, and dinner. After all, food is tastier when it's shared with friends and family~

Imagine this…

Gordon Ramsay stirred before the rats and the ghosts of Ramshackle dorm did. He was up by 5 am most days, first exercising and then rustling around in the kitchen fighting the gas stove to light (and stay that way!) and taking inventory of the dwindling ingredients in the pantry. At 7 am, the delicious smells would start up, rousing his housemates from their slumber.

This was the magic of a human incapable of spellcasting or sorcery.

"Mm... You're up super early again," Grim muttered from the doorway as he rubbed at his eyes. He yawned, still struggling to shake off the last remnants of sleep that clung to him. "I dunno how you do it."

"Not so hard once you've got the hang of it," he grunted in response. Gordon wiped his hands off on a dish towel before sliding a plate toward Grim. "Eat up now, we don't have much time before classes start."

"I dunno, I'm not too hungry."

"You? Not hungry?" Gordon's brows raised. "That's new. You feeling under the weather?"

Grim leapt, looking as though he had been caught with his entire body stuffed into a cookie jar. "N-No, I'm not! Yup, there's my hunger comin' back to me!"

He hurriedly yoinked a tuna sandwich and chowed down.

"See?! Ah'm jus' fine," Grim insisted, cheeks stuffed.

"Hmm, alright." Gordon tucked into a small bowl of oatmeal--prepared with baked bananas, almond milk, and dried cranberries.

"You got class today too or what?"

"Yup. Ashengrotto and the smaller Shroud this time."

“Think they’ll drive ya mad like the rest of them did?”

“I’ll hold my tongue until I’ve seen how they are in the kitchen for myself.”

“Keh, you’re no fun.”

The beast’s ears flattened. The blue fire that burned so brightly seemed to dim. Something weighed on his mind—of that, Gordon was certain.

“That means you'll abandon me before lunchtime again..." Between chews, Grim complained, "How come I gotta be just a student and you get to be a teacher too? The great Grim-sama oughta be showin' these newbies a thing or two!"

"I only teach what I know. I'm still a student in some ways, learning new things about food every day." Gordon shrugged, giving his friend a rough ruffle on the head. "You can be a teacher when you've mastered everything there is to master--neither of us is quite there yet."

"Why can't it be? I wanna fast forward to the part where I become an archmage already!!"

"Don't be impatient about making progress. I’ve made hundreds of dumplings in a day and still came nowhere near the level of perfection of a dim sum master.“

“Tsk, that sucks. Didja at least get to eat the bad dumplings?”

“It was all I had that day. They weren’t fit to serve to customers.” Gordon shook his head. “My point is, you’ll get there one day. Nose to the grindstone, Grim. You've got to work hard to earn it."

He spooned up the remainder of his oatmeal, then deposited his dirty bowl and spoon in the sink. Gordon plucked up Grim, who still had a mouth full of tuna, and tucked him under one arm.

“M-Myah?!“

“Right then, let’s head out. Brisk morning jog to wake up the senses—it’s a brand new day!”

“Lemme finish my breakfast first, sheesh!!”

Three classes before lunch, and they all went about as well as Gordon had expected them to. (That was to say, not well at all.)

During first period Alchemy, Grim had earned the ire of Crewel by disregarding the potion recipe. In spite of Gordon's reminders and warnings, Grim had taken one too many missteps. The wrong ingredient, the incorrect amount, the temperature too low or too high, the stirring too much or not enough.

He was then caught catnapping during Magic History and extensively told off by both Trein and Lucius. (The meowing had gotten very intense.) Gordon had apologized profusely in Grim's place.

Flying had not fared any better--Grim struggled to concentrate, his unsteady magic causing his broom to wildly buck, attempting to chuck him off. Gordon had to stop his rep of 100 push-ups to fetch his friend out from a shrub. Twigs poked at him, leaves caught in his fur.

By the time they were dismissed back to the locker rooms, Grim had melted into a furry puddle on Gordon's shoulder. "Maaan, I'm beat!! That was rough!"

"Rougher than usual." Gordon crunched on an apple. He had taken to the habit of eating small platters or snacks throughout the day over whole meals—it was more efficient for his lifestyle. “Something you want to tell me, or…?”

“N-Nothing’s up!” Grim snapped. "Quit worryin' about me. It's the boss's job to do that for their minion."

The chef rolled his eyes as he set Grim down on the floor beside him. He handed off a boxed lunch wrapped in a checkered cloth. "I'm off to teach. You'll be fine on your own, right? Find Trappola and Spade, settle down with your food, and don't cause trouble."

"I got it already!" Grim huffed. "Catch ya after...?"

"Always." His smile was strained, a bit tired but true. "Maybe I'll bring back some disastrous stories to share with you over dinner."

One last pat on the head, and then he was gone. Hustling down the hall, the white of his pristine chef’s jacket vanishing behind a corner.

Grim managed the rest of the hike to the cafeteria, balancing his lunch in his paws. He squeezed past the legs of various mob students, emerging safely on the other side. They rushed to line up for trays of food.

Suckers, Grim thought, paying in cash for food. Luckily for me, I’ve got something way better than whatever they’re serving.

“Oiiii, Grim! Over here!!” someone called to him. He looked—and there they were, the duo of troublemakers, marked by a heart and a spade upon their faces.

“Ace! Deuce!”

He scampered over to the two Heartslabyul freshmen. They had already secured their lunches, as well as an open seat for him.

“Hard night? Looks like you didn't get much sleep," Deuce commented. A fluffy omelet wobbled atop a mountain of ketchup fried rice on his plate.

“He's right, you really do look awful," Ace added cheerily--blunt as ever. He had opted for a slice of some savory pie, vegetables and meat oozing out from a buttery crust.

"Sh-Shuddap! The great Grim-sama was up all night cookin' up something big!" He slammed a paw down on the table. "Just look at your sorry lunches. They can't compare to what I have!"

"Did Prefect make your meal again? You should try to not trouble him too much.”

"’S not like I tell’m to! He does it on his own!” Grim snickered to himself. "He takes all these cheap ingredients and throws'm together to make these tasty dishes."

"Well, don't keep us waiting in suspense," Ace groaned. "Show us what you have already."

“Let’s see, let’s see!”

Grim undid the fabric knot that held his lunch in a swathe. The checkered pattern peeled back and the lid, once removed, yielded a creamy, cheesy bed of tuna bake.

Gordon had taken his beloved canned tuna and fried it down into flakes. It was then combined with a special mixture of seasonings, pasta shells, melted cheeses, onions and broccoli, and topped with bread crumbs. After a generous bake in their ancient oven, the dish had come out golden brown and bubbling.

“Whoooa, smells delish!!” all three of them drooled.

“Lucky bastard,” Ace muttered. He quickly put on a cheeky grin, his spoon prepared. “Ne, ne~ Lemme try some, Grim!“

“D-Don’t be cheeky, Ace! You can’t demand to mooch off of someone else’s lunch,” Deuce scolded his peer. “… Even if it does look really good.”

“Paws off!!” Grim shielded the box with his body. “My minion made this for me and me only!”

“Tch.” Ace’s expression dropped. “You get to eat like a king for free while the rest of us have to shell out and make do with whatever’s on the school’s menu.”

“It’s not that bad,” Deuce pointed out. “It’d be nice to be able to eat for free but I’m happy with the quality of food we get for the price.”

“This comin’ from the guy who was running low on pocket money for a snack the other day?” he smirked.

“H-Hey, I need to budget, okay?!”

While the duo bickered, Grim had started to shove his face into the box (silverware was too difficult to maneuver) and wolf down his meal. Cheese sauce painted his fur, bits of broccoli and tuna dotting his jaw.

It was heaven—or as close to heaven as he could get on the earth.

He licked his lips appreciatively, mopping up what was left on his face. Not even a little could go to waste. Grim was determined.

As he went back in for another mouthful, he felt a phantom hand cascade across his head, his back. Advice from that morning filled his mind.

“You’ll get there one day. Nose to the grindstone, Grim. You've got to work hard to earn it."

He shut his eyes, making a silent vow.

I’ll definitely… definitely pay ya back for all the hard work you’ve been puttin’ in too, partner.

Gordon bid farewell to the ghost chefs on his way out of the kitchen. The day’s leftovers and unused ingredients overflowed from his arms—a perk of the teaching gig, which helped to feed him and his feline roommate. He mentally parsed through what was available, dreaming up new dishes for the days to come.

There was a nice chunk of fresh tuna (Grim would love it) in his brown paper bag. Perhaps he’d sear it with a sesame crust, then drizzle the seafood in a yuzu-lime dressing to brighten it. He’s plate it with a microgreens salad. Chives, arugula, celery, radish, and ruby sorrel to encourage Grim to eat a variety of vegetables.

He made his way out of the school building and down the long, winding path to Ramshackle dorm. The sun was still out, warming the worn Prefect.

On the front porch, he rustled around in his pants for the keys. When he finally fished it out and inserted the teeth into the lock, Gordon swore he heard a series of suppressed giggles from beyond the door.

Odd.

The door swung open, and he was immediately accosted.

"Welcome baaack," the Ramshackle Ghosts chirped. One ushered him in from behind, another too his groceries off of his hands, and a third tugged him along by the arm.

"Come this way! Grimmy's got a treat for ya!"

"He's been working hard on it the second he got back from his last class."

"Oooh, you're gonna LOVE it!"

"What about dinner?" Gordon protested, watching his beloved ingredients sail off.

He was thrusted into their dingy kitchen--which doubled as the dining room, thanks to the table and chairs set up in one cobwebbed corner. The same old Ramshackle he woke up to every day. Rusty knobs and hinges, chipped cupboards, electricity and running water that blinked in and out.

But there, set on a table with uneven legs and splintered wood, was something extraordinary.

It was a stout cake, iced in light blue with a layer of dripping white and several lit candles stuck into the top. Black frosting formed the vague shape of a fish, TUNA piped over it in white. A single lollipop--pale blue, and in the shape of a paw--casually rested against the cake, as if it had been tossed on top for an extra flair.

A furry mass tackled and hugged Gordon's leg.

"Grim?!"

He was suited up in his own little chef's uniform. It was deep gray, verging on black, his apron tied with a striped-purple ribbon. A tiny toque--a chef's hat-- sat between his ears, a bandage over the bridge of his nose. A smear of white icing decorated his left cheek, and he carried with him a telltale piping bag squeezed thin.

Gordon blinked. "You did this?"

"Nyahahah! Were you surprised?"

"You told me you couldn't cook to save your life."

"He can't," a ghost piped up as he deposited the groceries onto a counter. "He's worse than I was when I was alive!"

"That's why Grimmy's been getting up in the dead of night lately. Been, what? Gotta be a few weeks now."

"He's been practicing his baking and then cleaning up the traces of his crime before you get up."

"What..."

"I wanted to pay ya back, yanno! For all the cookin' and cleanin' and whatever," Grim mumbled shyly, kicking at the ground. "So I figured I'd treat ya for once! I was thinking of a sticky toffee pudding at first since that's your favorite, but... it gets so sticky, it was hard to work with!"

He patted his stomach. "I couldn't put my stuff in the trash can or else you'd notice, so I had to eat up all my mistakes too! It was a lotta effort and way harder than it looked, so you'd better be grateful!!”

Grim looked away, rubbing at his bandage.

“… It helped me better understand and appreciate all the things you do on the daily.”

It clicked.

Everything suddenly made sense. Grim's tiredness, lack of focus, decreased appetite, defensiveness—it was all for this very moment.

"... I see." Gordon bent down, a smile taking shape on his mouth. A steady kindling in his chest. “This is your way of saying ‘thank you’.”

“M-Maybe! An archmage has gotta take good care of his minion,” Grim muttered.

The prefect laughed softly. “And you’re doing a great job at it. Hang tight, I'll get the stove going and whip us up some seared tuna to go with the cake."

“Myah?! Y-You’ve got tuna? Like, the real stuff?!” Grim’s eyes were wide and sparkling. A line of drool ran down his chin. "Fancy tuna...!!"

"Yeah. We can plate some for the ghosts too--so they can join us for a meal in spirit." Gordon nodded at their other roommates. Their pale faces brightened with excitement.

"Can we really?"

"It's been so long since I was last invited to a celebration like this!!"

"Oh, but we can't eat... Ghosts don't have digestive systems. The tune would pass right through us."

"... Grim, you have eat their shares. More importantly, it's being together for the occasion that matters, right?"

"Whoo-hoo!! You're the best minion an archmage could ask for!!" Grim cheered, leaping into the air, furry fist pumping.

“Let's get this dinner party started…!”

[say-hi-intrepid-heroes]

alright let’s go over the junior year clues we got in the rick perry documentary thing (disclaimer: i’ve definitely missed stuff, but i think i got the big things, feel free to reblog and add with stuff that i missed though)

[at the bottom of this post I've typed out the decipherable words that plan out some combats and NPCs from Rick's screen. it's the most interesting thing but it's super long so it's at the bottom under a cut]

We get a blurry look at some minis. I’m seeing at least the PC’s minis, as well as what looks like Baxter the Gryphon.

There’s some major shots of this battle. Includes a Baby mini, the Hangvan with some kind of laser canon on top, a stingray-esque monster that is likely Night Yorb (see below), something that looks like maybe an ice elemental or the crystal (see below), and some large bugs and shirtless people. Clearly set in the Red Wastes. Detailed info of the planning for this battle below.

One of the shots had reference boards in the background. One is clearly for the Hangvan (see earlier screencaps), but the other is unclear. It looks like it includes some sort of tennis or tennis-adjacent sport.

Confirmation that Mordred Manor is a set piece.

Finally, one shot showed Rick’s computer screen with some critical info about planning. I’ve put what I’ve been able to decipher below the screencaps. and under a cut, as it’s very long.

EP. 701 DEFEATING NIGHT YORB CHASE (RED WASTES) Hangvan, Night Yorb is giant flying Manta Ray thing? Rainbow road, being chased by night yorb while trying to throw crystal into portal. Crazy gun on rough [roof] that gorgug made, I can’t get a lock on it. Just need one last final thing to defeat night yorb. Red wastes, chasing the night yorb around, flying bats teleporting onto rough [roof] of van, NPC allies, Balthazar, two other cars they are in contact with, tiefling bakers or sidekicks are reveals Stormchaser twister, trying to get a lock onto it, Night Yorb is escaping the world. Maybe night yorb gets away, why didn [didn’t] you get it? And Balthazar died? Murph invented the Night Yorb. Don’t fuck with the Night Yorb. Exploded out of riz’s chest, needs to be dumb as hell. it’s the jabberwocky, it burbled, hugely terrifying, Horrifying cursed thing. Unending night for two months. Dragon sized, bigger than the Hang Van, 30’ wingspan Stars and moon. While the night yorb flies it is night and not day. Not malevolent force, but everything on earth will die Have giant ghost busters canon, Honey I shrunk the kids cannon Driver, mechanic, gunner, navigator (using SW 5e mechanics) Hang Man - Fabian motorcycle Tether is attached to night yorb, either magic or harpoon Night Yorb could out pace them. Could smash van. Cultist of the night yorb appearing on the road, mad max style ”The night yorb is our god” Red Wastes Cultists: Riding skeleton horses, classic fantasy cultists, Manta ray night yorb masks Sword and Sorcery vibes, MUSCELY, oiled, black leather, rings Shadow of Night Yorb Tether must be reeled in over 4 rounds Success Meter - 4 rounds or it escapes Pop up cultists in the middle of the road 4 maps Straight away, gully bridge crossing, rap popping up, giant portal It’s going to another world but if it gets away thats just as bad Ayada [Ayda?] thing built in. Chekov’s gun. Gun has cool helix of energy that is getting cranked in. Gun is on the back and on the hood is a binding circle that Adaine does. Cultists are making the portal. YORBIES if they catch it, it gets bound into the paint of their van Gun is gorgug’s stuff and circle is adaine 6 cultist perusing them, 4 or 5 at the portal, 1 or 2 back up Single person traps, Vulture with cactus MINIS: Night Yorb - Giant shadowy manta ray, inky black dripping, made of liquid, different underbelly, deep indigo or bone white. Made of shadows, dripping aberration, flat plane, long tail, two weird eyes coming off front on stalks. Second set of PCs TERRAIN: Red Wastes! NOTES: favorite crazy dnd monsters, beholder, [unclear word, bu…ette] Fungal Black light portal battle! Dr. Strange battle set, pseudo pods of elder pod night yorb, day glow run fragments, purple stone castle night yorb temple, floor is octopus made of shadows. Starting mid battle. [blank sections] PROJECTION: Counter here of some kind?

POTENTIAL LOCATIONS Basrar’s icecream shop? Mordred Manor Seacaster Manor [crossed out] Strong Tower Luxury Apartments SAT Prep class [screen cuts off]

EP. 704 DENTENTION [detention] STEALTH CHASE SEQUENCE/ QUIET LIBRARY/ Aguefort chase sequence? Combine sets interrupted by having to make it past a hall monitor Underwater? Books suspended floating, everything is affected by water Don’t wake daddy? Start in Library to get to Aguefort’s office Hallway Classroom Bathroom Lockerroom [blank sections] DYNAMIC ELEMENT: Water

CONCEPTS Dicks! SPIRITUAL GUARDIANS - Full service on minis, summons, etc Psycadelic fungal giant, black light, trippy, beautiful Revisiting old set [screen cuts off]

[fyi everything past this point was very blurry, so I could only decipher pieces here and there]

EP. 706 OUTDOOR CONCERT COACHELLA Music feature? Flaming [?], giant [?] [???] Fig and Gorgug on stage [???] Lighting effects, [???] Floating stage or something [???] Demons? PROJECTION: Lasers?

NPCS/ VILLAINS/ MONSTERS/ ETC. PORTER CLIFFBREAKER is secret servant of nightmare king tactical battlefield combat that [?] 2-3 times larger than PCs LED buried inside him [???] Porter was [???] basketball player [screen cuts off]

[the rest was too blurry to make out anything other than a blank section titled ROLE PLAY/ NEUTRAL BOARD and a section that seems to be for EP. 708 and says EXTRA with some blurry words after it]

[dellalyra]

Hi! Do you remember in the "Family formations" part "Kind" Megumi said that he hopes his future partner will be kind. Imagine when Megumi and Yuji finally start dating, reader will tell Megumi that he found the perfect partner, because he is very kind, like Megumi wanted. I think about it and this is soo cute! (actually I requested it like a week ago by anonymous, but I'm pretty sure something is wrong with my anonymous function. But if you already got it, I'm so sorry, I just wanted to make sure)

“I’ll do this dishes!” Yuuji clambers off his chair at the dining table, gathering all plates and silverware at once before you could even protest.

“Ya know, if sorcery doesn’t work out then you’d make one hell of a waiter.” Satoru laughs from beside you.

Megumi moves to stand and help his boyfriend, but is quickly shoved back down with a warning to stay with his parents.

Three and a half year old Akio is sitting on his boosted chair, more pasta on his face than in his tummy and your 5 month old baby girl, Mirai is cuddled on her father’s lap as she suckles on a bottle before bedtime.

You can hear the dishwasher being loaded, with a soft humming and the occasional muttered word from Yuuji to your cat who is presumably receiving clandestine leftovers.

Megumi is looking at him through the kitchen door, and the soft lamplight shines on his sharp features - making his beautiful eyes look like the greenest emeralds and casting shadows from his long lashes. The look on his face - you’ve seen that look.

That contentment, the adoration, respect and gratitude mixed with amusement and amazement.

You’ve seen that look before.

In your husband’s face, when he looks at you.

That’s the look of real love, the true kind.

It’s the look you give your Satoru, too.

Many years ago, one night when you were barely 21 and the kids only small children - you remember them witnessing the aftermath of a gripping nightmare that had you reliving the loss (albeit, temporary) of the love of your life. You remember them both crawling into bed beside you - and speaking of the love they hoped to find. A blueprint set for them, tried and tested, in the couple who raised them. The plan and image of a love for the ages, a ride-or-die devotion and marriage of soulmates.

You remember your little Tsumiki - hoping for a prince, or a king. A fairytale to sweep her off her feet.

Megumi - his was so simple it shook you to your core. When asked what he wanted in the one he loved, the then 6 year old only listed one thing.

He wanted his love to be kind.

In the moment you sat there, both sons and baby daughter, your lover of 14 years and future son-in-law in the kitchen you know the wish came true.

The innocent wish of a 6 year old boy for his future love to be a kind one.

The stars listened that night.

“He’s kind.” You say, soft and almost reverent.

“Huh?” The black haired young man tilts his head in confusion.

“Yuuji.” You nod your head toward the kitchen.

“You’re only realising this after 4 years of knowing him…?” Megumi raises an eyebrow.

The cogs seem to click into place in Satoru’s head as he looks at you - then toward the boy. He remembers too, he looks at you smiling before tossing his head back in a melodic laugh that’s soothed your aching body since you were 16.

“When you were 6, you came with ‘Miki into our room in the middle of the night after hearing me crying out from a nightmare. The nightmare was about the day your dad was - was stabbed.” You begin, watching as Megumi takes Mirai from Satoru’s arms and you’re immediately pulled into your husbands lap as Akio runs off to play in the playroom.

“Okay…?” Megumi asks, his little sister absentmindedly chewing on his fingers.

“I explained why losing someone I loved as much as I love your dad left deep scars on me, and Tsumiki began talking about what she wanted in a future lover. She said she wanted a king or a prince, someone who treated her how ‘Toru treats me.” The boy nods, remembering the night.

“Do you remember what you said, kid?” Satoru asks, absentmindedly tracing patterns into the flesh of your hips through your jeans.

Megumi furrows his brow in thought, deep consideration required for memories from so long ago.

Then it hits.

A small smile, barely noticeable graces his proud features as he looks at the table.

“Kind.” He whispers.

“Hey - sensei! Can cats have broccoli?” A pink head pokes out around the kitchen archway.

“You feeding that cat extra? No wonder he’s so damn fat.” Satoru exclaims. He had tried to get Yuuji to stop calling him Sensei many times - to no avail.

“Yeah, Yuuji - Grumpy George can have some broccoli.” You laugh out.

“Sensei! Don’t say that! He might hear you and broccoli is a vegetable, it’s one of his five a day!” Yuuji shouts back before you hear muttering of ‘here you go, sir - some broccoli - oh, very yummy, nom nom nom.’

The look is back on his face.

Megumi’s face.

That look.

You briefly wonder if his birth parents had something to do with sending their blessing an angel, and you’re so grateful if they did.

“Kind.” Megumi mutters, stronger this time - sure in his voice and proud of his boy.

pixie says: I loved this so much because when I wrote ‘Kind’ originally I wrote it specifically with Yuuji in mind when Megumi says he wants someone kind and when I said for Tsumiki she wanted a king - it was a nod to Yoruzu loving Sukuna. I cannot BELIEVE someone picked up on this and it’s made me beyond happy.

[just-aake]

Boundless Devotion - Part X

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: MedievalAU. Natasha is the eldest princess of the Romanov Kingdom. As the time of her coronation approaches, she is suddenly forced to make a decision – either find herself a partner or her parents will choose one for her.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Warnings: slight angst, violence/abuse

Words: 6296

The once warm and bright morning sun has since disappeared behind looming gray clouds as a gentle breeze drifted through your open window, bringing a subtle coldness to your room.

Despite the gloomy skies and the promise of rain, you can imagine yourself enjoying this kind of ambiance, sitting in your window seat with a good book, accompanied by the soothing sounds of rainfall as you read.

That would have been a nice way to spend the remainder of the day — if it had been your choice.

At this point, you’ve gotten used to your father’s strict and outrageous behavior. Forcing you to stay in your room is arguably not the worst thing he’s done to you, so there's not much point in getting angry. 

Besides, you have a certain someone who is already upset enough on your behalf.

“That insufferable tyrant of a man! He doesn't care about anyone but himself, always stalking around with that condescending attitude of his...” 

Sitting at your desk, you glance up from your book to look at Wanda, who paces around angrily as she continues her rants of frustration about your father. 

Seeing the familiar red mist emerging around her hands as she gets more heated, you decide to call out to her.

“Wanda, your powers are reacting to your emotions,” you remind her.

Thanks to Carol’s gift of the sorcery books, you and Wanda have learned more about her powers, such as how they work and the things she can do. 

With enough time and practice, Wanda can eventually gain control of her powerful abilities without it causing too much of a strain on her. 

In the meantime, however, as her powers grow stronger, they have recently been appearing more frequently and unexpectedly, especially during emotional moments like these.

Wanda looks down at her hands in confusion before sighing and dissipating the red mist with a wave of her hand. The red glow in her eyes also fades back to its original green color — a new effect of her powers that you both recently discovered.

Your expression twists down slightly in concern at the sight. 

Hiding Wanda’s abilities from others, especially your father, will be more difficult if this continues, and your original plan to quickly find a partner so that you can take yourself and the twins away from him is not progressing as well as you hoped.

Then again, at the beginning of your search for a partner, you never expected to find yourself in a fake relationship with Natasha — the same relationship the princess had pointed out this morning as nearing its end, and you know she was right.

With Rumlow hopefully having given up on pursuing you after the way you treated him as well as Natasha’s encouragement for you to be with someone else, it reminded you to refocus on your original goal of finding a decent partner for yourself.

However, now this time, you have to deal with getting over your feelings for the red-haired princess as you continue your search.

You internally sigh at the difficulty of your situation. 

Why did your feelings for Natasha have to be brought to the forefront of your heart after all this time? 

It was simpler when the two of you just remained as friends, without all of the pretending complicating your relationship. 

Unfortunately, you don’t have time to deal with your confusing feelings right now. 

There is a more pressing matter.

Your eyes glance to Wanda in contemplation.

Maybe you should consider asking Kate about taking in Wanda for a bit to give yourself some time to review your plans.

Though, you already know Wanda would reject the idea since it would mean she has to leave your side.

You wipe away your worried expression when Wanda turns to you.

Placing her hands on her hips, she questions your calm attitude.

“I don’t understand how you’re not upset about this. He’s basically restricting your freedom.”

“Well, I still have you and Pietro,” you point out before shrugging. “Plus I was going to continue my research anyway, so it’s not like I’m going anywhere else today.”

Wanda huffs at your response, crossing her arms and looking away from you exasperatedly to glare at the wall.

With Wanda somewhat calmer, you return your attention to the book on your desk that you were previously reading. 

Despite what you said earlier, instead of continuing your research, you were actually reading accounts detailing the previous war between the Romanov and Stark kingdoms again, specifically focusing on any sections about Captain James Barnes.

His backstory was compelling.

Despite a tragic accident resulting in the loss of his arm, Barnes still rose in rank to become the Captain of the Stark Kingdom where he served with loyalty for many years and was even a formidable force during the war. 

Everything was going well for him — prestige, honor, strength. He was well-liked by all in the kingdom.

Then that one tragic event took everything away. 

All the books depict the same conclusion after the war. Captain Barnes killed the Stark king, queen, and their newborn daughter in cold blood on their way home.

No further details are provided other than that.

Furrowing your brows, an uncomfortable feeling nags at you about the strangeness of the situation.

Why would anyone with his kind of reputation do something like that?

Your suspicion from your previous conversation with Queen Melina about the Black Widow operations emerges again concerning the captain.

Despite your father’s denial of any involvement in that tragedy, this connection could be a possible explanation for the animosity between the two of them earlier.

However, it doesn’t explain the mystery behind why this so-called stranger seems to recognize you or be so concerned about your life here.

A commotion outside your room interrupts your thoughts, and Pietro’s voice echoes from behind your door.

“Move! She’s not going to run out the moment you open the door!” 

You laugh lightly at his words, turning to see the other twin slipping inside with an annoyed huff.

“Man, I hate these new guards,” Pietro comments as he shuts the door behind him.

His hair is slightly disheveled, probably from all the running, and tucked under his arm, he holds an elegantly wrapped box.

You make your way to him and reach up to fix his hair gently as you ask. 

“Did you find out anything?” 

Ducking away from your fussing, Pietro nods and replies, “I overheard some of the guards were taking him to the prison.”

Wanda comes up next to you, folding her arms as she joins the conversation.

“Are you two talking about that criminal?”

She turns to you in concern.

“Y/n, you shouldn’t go near him. He’s dangerous.”

You unconsciously rub your wrist at the memory of Barnes attempting to take you away while saying those confusing comments about you.

At Wanda's expectant expression, you shrug and try to explain to her.

“I know, it’s just…something that he said keeps bothering me.”

But now there’s no way for you to question him since he’s already taken away from the manor.

Your shoulders slump with a resigned sigh, “I just wanted to see if I could get a chance to know what he meant.”

The twins exchange a surprised glance at your words — it was rare that you expressed wanting to do something for yourself.

The two of them silently signal each other with their eyes to do something to distract your mind and cheer you up.

Pietro snaps his fingers as he remembers another piece of information.

“Oh! Princess Natasha and Yelena also came by the manor just now.”

Despite your attempt to push your feelings away for Natasha, you still can’t help but perk up at the mention of her name.

“So where are they now?” Wanda asks.

Pietro winces at the question before replying sadly. 

“They were turned away by Lord Dreykov.”

Wanda huffs and throws her hands up in frustration.

“That man ruins everything!”

Your mouth turns down slightly in disappointment at the news, but you decide that this was probably for the best anyway. You haven’t had enough time to sort out your feelings for the princess yet.

If you were to see her again so soon, you’re not sure whether your heart would skip or break at the sight of her.

Noticing your still sullen expression, Wanda decides to try another approach, nudging your shoulder in a teasing manner.

“You know, with everything going on, you never told me how your 'date' with the princess went this morning,” she probes gently.

Startled at the sudden topic change, you huff lightly and give her an exasperated look. 

“I told you it wasn’t a date. It was just a chance for Natasha to relax for a bit. This is a very stressful time for her.”’

Wanda rolls her eyes at your denial, turning to her brother for some backup before noticing the box at his side.

“What’s that?” she points.

Pietro smirks proudly as he offers the box to you.

“I snuck it away from some of the guards. Apparently, this was another gift from Princess Carol that they didn’t give to you,” he reveals.

Smiling in surprise at the information, you take the box, your fingers lightly running over the cursive letters of your name written in the familiar handwriting of the other princess.

Wanda raises an eyebrow at your reaction curiously before her eyes narrow suspiciously in a teasing manner.

“Wait, you spent a lot of time with her at the festival. Is there something happening between you and Princess Carol?”

Wanda gasps dramatically, her hand landing on your arm and shaking it lightly.

“Is that why nothing is happening with Princess Natasha? Your heart is torn between the two royals vying for your affection!”

Rolling your eyes at her teasing and pulling away from her excited grip, you move to place the box on your desk while replying over your shoulder in an attempt to clear all the misunderstandings.

“Nothing is happening with either of them,” you state firmly.

“Carol is just a friend, and Natasha…” you trail off sadly as you remember your earlier conversation with her.

With a soft sigh, you continue sadly, “Natasha doesn’t—” 

Two gasps of surprise interrupt you, prompting you to turn around quickly toward the twins.

Both of them have expressions of shock and amazement on their faces, their gazes fixated on something across your room. 

Confused, you turn to the cause of their reaction, only for your eyes to also widen in surprise at the sight.

Natasha is outside your opened window, her arms casually resting on your window sill, holding her up.

“Hey,” Natasha greets you normally with a tiny wave and a small grunt of exertion as she adjusts her grip on your window sill.

“Can I come in?” she asks casually.

“Ohmy—Natasha?!”

Hurrying over, you help in pulling her through the window, the both of you stumbling and falling to the ground.

With Natasha on top, she quickly braces one hand on the floor to catch herself, while her other hand covers your head protectively.

After ensuring that the two of you landed safely, Natasha leans her head down in exhaustion against your shoulder, chuckling softly.

“That was harder than I remember," she remarks jokingly.

At her words, you pull back from her embrace and begin to check on her with a small frown. 

“I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t do that anymore,” you chastise her as your hands brush carefully across her face, examining her.

There were times in your childhood when Madam B wouldn’t let you go out to play until you finished the vast amount of studies that she assigned to you. 

During those times, Natasha would sneak in through your window to spend time with you without anyone knowing. 

That is, until one day she had gotten a small cut on her hand from the climb, and you had told her not to attempt it again.

“Well, Lord Dreykov wouldn’t let me in…,” Natasha catches your hand against her cheek, leaning gently into your touch.

Her eyes soften fondly as she looks at you before continuing, “…and I really needed to see you.”

You swallow nervously under her gaze — it is more intense than anything you’ve seen from her before.

You’re not sure of how to respond, her warm presence already dispelling the previous coldness in your room, distracting your mind.

An awkward cough from Pietro catches your attention, snapping you from your thoughts and reminding you of the others in the room.

Pulling your hand away slowly from under Natasha’s, you clear your throat slightly as you stand and compose yourself. 

Wanda wears a sly smile as she raises her eyebrows at you, but you give her a firm look, silently signaling her to refrain from any teasing remarks before she has a chance.

Natasha stands up next to you and dusts herself before giving you a smirk.

“I thought I was the princess, so why are you the one who is locked away?” she teases gently.

You hold back your amused smile as you try to maintain your reprimanding expression, shaking your head at her.

“Natasha, you shouldn’t be here. If my father finds out…,” you begin.

Natasha frowns at the mention of him.

“Yeah, about that, why isn’t he letting you out?”

Wanda steps forward before you can reply.

“Because he’s a terrible person and he treats Y/n horri—”

“Wanda, that’s enough,” you cut her off with a meaningful stare. 

Wanda presses her lips together in a pout but she listens to your words and doesn’t continue.

Natasha raises a brow and tilts her head questionably at you, her eyes glancing between you and Wanda in suspicion. 

You let out a sigh and shake your head as you explain. 

“He’s being temperamental and unreasonable right now…which is why I think it’s best if we get you out without him knowing,” you say while glancing at the door in thought about how to sneak the princess out.

Seeing your worried expression, Natasha takes your hand gently to get your attention, turning you back to face her.

“Hey, I don’t want to get you in trouble. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

Her thumb caresses the back of your hand gently as she searches your eyes before asking seriously.

“Are you okay?”

You open your mouth, hesitating as you consider how to respond.

You know that Natasha isn’t supposed to be here, with Queen Melina having already told you the details about Natasha’s busy schedule for the next couple of days. 

The last thing she needs is to be worried about something as trivial as you being confined to your room.

With a deep exhale, you reassure her with a small smile.

“I’m fine, Natasha.” 

Natasha examines you closely for a moment, a doubtful look in her eyes. She eventually relents reluctantly when you give her a resolute nod.

Turning towards your window with a sigh, she offers, “I can sneak back down if you want me to go.”

Your eyes widen at the suggestion, and you grab her arm to pull her back to face you before she can move, giving her an incredulous look.

“You can't be serious,” you exclaim in disbelief. 

When Natasha just blinks innocently at you in confusion, you give her a deadpan expression as you state firmly.

“You are not climbing down, Natasha.”

Before she can argue, the sound of your door handle turning causes you all to snap your attention to it in panic.

Pietro swiftly blocks the door, slamming it closed with his body.

“Open up!” the guard’s voice calls out from outside.

“Haven’t you heard of knocking?” Pietro shouts back before shrugging his shoulders and gesturing his hands at Natasha frantically.

Ignoring her small exclamation of surprise, you quickly usher Natasha into your closet, closing the door just in time as the guard shoves his way into your room.

He inspects the room critically before looking at you, standing with your back pressed against the closet door.

“I heard another voice,” he asserts, moving towards you in suspicion. 

With his focus on you, Wanda silently steps up from behind him, her hands already enveloped in a red mist as she raises it next to the guard’s head.

She moves her fingers sharply, and the mist shoots towards his head, causing his eyes to glow red for a second.

The guard stops suddenly and shakes his head in confusion before looking around again.

“Never mind,” he says slowly. “It must have been from somewhere else.” 

With that, he leaves the room and begins to walk away to investigate elsewhere.

Once he’s gone, Wanda falls to the ground with an exhausted exhale, and you and Pietro rush to her side quickly.

“How are you feeling? Are you okay?” you ask while checking her condition.

Wanda nods and raises her hand in a stopping gesture at your fussing before replying weakly.

“I’m fine. Just feeling a little tired.”

“That was amazing!” Pietro exclaims. “What did you do to him?” 

“Yeah, what did you do?” Natasha comments as she steps out and looks at the three of you curiously.

The twins turn to you with wide eyes, expecting you to respond. 

At Natasha’s questioning gaze, you wave your hand vaguely in the air, trying to come up with an explanation.

“Um…Wanda just has a special way with people,” you say with a slight wince at your pathetic answer.

Natasha squints at you suspiciously with a knowing expression, already aware that you’re hiding something, but she doesn’t press any further. 

Wanda glances at her briefly before turning to you. 

“You should take this chance to get the princess out before they come back.”

Seeing your conflicted expression as you try to examine Wanda again, Pietro rests his hand on your shoulder, stopping you, and gestures to the door with his head.

“Go, I’ll make sure she’s okay,” Pietro reassures you.

You hesitate, looking at Wanda once again, and she, in turn, gives you a reassuring nod. 

With a resigned sigh, you stand and grab Natasha’s hand, pulling her along as the two of you move quietly through the manor.

After a moment of sneaking through the hallways, Natasha breaks the silence.

“About what Wanda said earlier, with your father—” Natasha starts.

“It’s nothing that you need to worry about,” you interrupt with a small reassuring smile over your shoulder before turning back around, not noticing Natasha’s frown at your words.

Deciding to change the subject before she can press further as you check around the corner, you decide to ask her something else you were curious about from the moment you saw her at your window. 

“So what was the reason for this visit? I know you have that meeting today.” 

Natasha rubs her neck nervously as she remembers her original purpose for coming to you. 

“Um…this morning, after you left, I realized something.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, both at her words and at the sight of guards coming from around the corner toward your position.

Turning around, you quickly push Natasha into the nearby supply closet before she can continue and close the door, enclosing the two of you inside.

You hold your breath as you listen carefully until the sound of the footsteps passes by and eventually fades away before relaxing.

“I think they’re gone. We should be able to go now,” you exhale gently.

When Natasha doesn’t move or respond, you finally focus your eyes on her.

That’s when you realize the closeness between the two of you, standing in the small closet. 

Moving your head slightly, your nose lightly brushes against hers as you examine your positions.

Natasha’s arm is propped next to your head, her hand pressing against the wall behind you, which is the only reason there is some distance between your bodies. 

The small light coming in through the cracks lets you make out her face faintly in the dark.

Her eyes appear lost in thought and unfocused as she stares at your face, giving you that same intense look from earlier that made you lose your breath.

You feel a small exhale from her against your lips, making your heart speed up slightly.

“Natasha?” you whisper nervously against her when you feel her face begin to lean in closer.

Your voice seems to bring her out of her thoughts as she reels back in surprise. 

Natasha clears her throat in response, looking away to the door. 

“Y–yeah, let’s go.”

After leaving the storage closet, you and Natasha stand awkwardly in the hallway, with you trying to understand what just happened and her trying to compose herself. 

With a determined breath, Natasha places her hand on your arm to turn you to her.

"Y/n, about this morning—" 

Before she can finish, a figure comes rushing around the corner.

“Pietro?” you tilt your head curiously at his appearance.

He has a sheepish look on his face as he looks between the two of you awkwardly. 

“Sorry, am I interrupting?” He gestures back towards his previous direction. “Wanda is resting already, and she said to go help you.” 

You subtly take a tiny step from Natasha at his comment, not noticing her small pout at the action as you shake your head at him in response. 

“No, it’s fine. We were hiding from some guards.”

Pietro nods in understanding.

“Yeah, they’re swarming the manor.”

Natasha sighs at the interruption, crossing her arms as she asks calmly. 

“Is there a way to reach an exit without running into any more patrols?”

Pietro thinks for a minute before snapping his finger with a thought. 

“There’s the old staff tunnels in the library that leads out to the gardens.”

At your agreement, the three of you make your way to the library where Pietro reveals a hidden door behind a banner in the far back, concealed by the cover of bookshelves.

Right as Pietro pries the door open, the sound of the library door bursts open, and your father’s voice booms in the space.

“Whoever’s in here, don’t bother hiding. You can’t escape.”

Pushing Natasha to Pietro, you whisper to him hurriedly.

“Take Natasha and go.”

“But—” he argues.

You give him a firm look that leaves no room for arguing.

Pietro frowns, but he relents and grabs Natasha’s arm. 

She promptly brushes him off and takes your hand before you can leave, pulling you back to her.

“I’m not leaving you. This was my choice. I can take the responsibility,” Natasha insists.

Gently covering her hand with your own, you give her a small squeeze in appreciation and a bittersweet smile before slowly pulling your hand from her grip.

Your other hand moves up discreetly to her shoulder, and with a hard shove, you push her into the tunnels as Pietro closes the door behind them.

“Hey—” Natasha whispers harshly in surprise at your action.

“Pietro, please get her out safely,” you tell him through the small opening on the door.

He has a displeased look on his face, but he still nods determinedly at your request.

Footsteps come closer to your position as you re-cover the door with the banner.

“Come out now, or I’ll have you dragged out,” your father’s voice threatens.

With a deep breath, you step forward from the shadows. 

Dreykov rolls his eyes at the sight of you and gestures for his guards to stand down.

As if returning to his original task, he hands one guard an envelope and dismisses him with a wave and order. 

“Make sure this is delivered to the handler in the Stark kingdom. Quickly.”

The guard takes the envelope with a bow and turns to leave the room.

Furrowing your brows at his words, you eye the envelope suspiciously, the object giving you a bad feeling.

However, your attention is diverted when your father turns to face you again. His hands cross behind his back as he slowly steps closer menacingly.

“I believe I told you to stay in your room,” he says, his tone low in a displeased manner.

“I just came to get some books,” you lie smoothly. 

Dreykov scoffs and gestures with his hand dismissively.

“Does that servant boy of yours no longer run to fetch you things anymore?”

You frown, and your hand clenches in anger at his words. That protective instinct over the twins washes over you, and you can’t help but correct him.

“His name is Pietro, and he’s not a servant.”

Dreykov eyes you critically in annoyance before shaking his head in disapproval.

“That is why you will always be weak, viewing those orphans as anything other than what they truly are — disposable tools.”

You know you shouldn’t push your luck, but his words cause you to remember your earlier suspicion about him and the old captain, and your accusation comes out before you can stop yourself.

“Was Captain Barnes also a tool for you?”

The room grows cold immediately at the silence that follows, and in response, you wrap your arms around yourself defensively, already missing the warmth of Natasha’s protective presence.

Dreykov's eyes narrow at you, as if trying to gauge your implication.

After a tense moment, he finally speaks up in an indifferent tone, issuing a command to his guard.

“Hold her.” 

Your arms are restrained as he calmly steps closer to you.

You press your lips in a thin line in preparation, already knowing what comes next after such disrespectful behavior. 

His hand hits you hard enough to knock your head harshly to the side, and you feel a small amount of blood drip from the corner of your lips.

Shaking the pain away, you return to your original position defiantly — his reaction already giving you the answer to your question. 

At your expression, Dreykov sneers at you before hitting you again.

This time the impact was strong enough to knock you to the ground. Without giving you time to recover, he roughly grabs your hair to pull your head back to look up at him.

You press your mouth shut to prevent yourself from crying out in pain, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

He presses his finger against your head in a mocking gesture.

“You would think your simple mind would learn already that I do not tolerate such disrespect in my presence.” 

Letting go of your head with a dismissive throw, Dreykov turns around sharply and heads towards the door while gesturing to the guard. 

“Take her back to her room and make sure she stays there this time.” 

The door shuts behind Dreykov as the guard pulls you to your feet and tightens his grip on your arm.

Despite the throbbing pain on your cheeks from the impacts, you feel more relieved that Pietro was able to get Natasha away. 

The guard moves to shove you back in the opposite direction towards the other exit.

However, his grip on you is suddenly removed, and you turn in surprise to see him now unconscious on the floor. 

Natasha stands beside the unconscious body, breathing heavily at the figure in anger before looking up at you, a mixture of fury and concern in her eyes.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Soon after you disappear from view behind the hidden door, Pietro swiftly pulls Natasha further into the tunnels while she is still distracted in shock by your action.

Not too far along in their path, Natasha realizes what is happening and breaks away from his grip, turning around swiftly to return to your side.

However, Pietro is faster, rushing past her to block her path. 

Natasha shoots him an intimidating look.

“Move, Pietro,” her voice is calm with an underlying warning tone.

“I can’t do that. Y/n told me to take you away,” Pietro responds determinedly.

“You would leave her behind like that?” Natasha exclaims.

Pietro’s expression twists down with a painful and regretful look at her words before returning her stare with a defiant expression.

“I don’t like it either, but this is what she asked me to do,” he argues.

“Even if it means you’re abandoning her,” Natasha accuses.

“I’m not abandoning her!” Pietro replies angrily. “You have no idea what Y/n has done for me and Wanda. I am doing what I can to not cause her any more trouble.”

Natasha opens her mouth to argue against letting you sacrifice yourself to take the blame for her actions when a loud echo of what distinctively sounds like a slap travels in the space, causing Natasha’s eyes to widen as she snaps her attention towards your direction, realizing what the sound implies.

Her body moves instantly towards you, but Pietro blocks her path again.

“Get out of my way,” Natasha warns dangerously, her patience thinning by the second. She doesn’t want to hurt him, but she will force her way through if she has to.

“Don’t go,” Pietro pleads, fear appearing in his eyes, though it was not caused by her.

He holds her back, pressing his hands against her shoulder before releasing a shaky breath and shaking his head as he reveals the truth. 

“He’ll do worse if you help her.”

Natasha freezes as she snaps her attention to him.

“What did you just say?”

Pietro’s head falls to his chest in shame.

The memory of the first time Dreykov had hurt you after his return to the manor flashes in his mind, and how his attempt at helping you and doing what he thought was the right thing only ended up causing you more harm.

It took three days for you to recover from your injuries after that. 

You never blame him, of course.

You never blame anyone. 

Since then, he has never been able to get the courage to help you during those times, not that you ever let him. He could only stand back and watch helplessly.

Pietro flinches at the sound of the second hit, and his hands fall back to his side in defeat as he lets the princess rush past him back into the library.

At least, with this, he can let someone with more strength than him save you.

Natasha returns to the library and sees the guard pull you up from the ground roughly, and red instantly fills her vision.

In the next moment, the guard is swiftly subdued, unconscious on the floor.

Looking back up to you, Natasha sees your surprised expression, but she is more focused on the sight of the harsh redness on your cheek and the blood at the corner of your lips.

She instantly makes her way to you and cradles your face gently, inspecting you carefully with a concerned expression.

You wince away from her touch, grabbing her hand and pulling it away slightly.

“I’m fine, Natasha,” you murmur under your breath with a small sigh.

Natasha's eyes widen in disbelief and she shakes her head vehemently. 

“No, you are not fine! He hit you!”

Her eyes instantly snap angrily to the door that your father just left out of.

Recognizing her expression, you quickly pull her into a tight embrace before she can charge after him.

She’s practically shaking with anger, but she doesn’t push you away.

You tighten your hold on her, pressing your head comfortingly into her neck, trying to calm her down.

“Don’t, Natasha,” you tell her firmly against her skin.

With her coronation so close, this is not the time for her to cause a scandal by attacking a noble like Dreykov.

Rubbing her back slowly in a soothing pattern, you whisper into her ear gently. 

“I’m okay.”

Eventually, Natasha lets out a deep shaky breath against your shoulder before whispering to you in defeat.

“How long?”

When you don’t answer her, Natasha closes her eyes fiercely in realization and tightens her grip around you, as if trying to wrap you protectively in her arms.

Meanwhile, your eyes glance up at a movement behind Natasha, and you spot Pietro standing a small distance away, his gaze staring at the floor sadly and his body curled into himself in guilt.

You let out a knowing sigh at the familiar sight, already figuring out what is bothering the twin. 

With a resigned breath, you extract yourself from Natasha’s embrace slowly before gripping her hand and pulling her back towards the staff tunnels. 

“Come on, we can all talk after we get outside,” you remark softly.

As you pass Pietro, your other hand reaches out to grab his hand, and you give him a reassuring squeeze as you pull them both along.

The three of you make your way through the staff tunnels in silence and exit out of the manor and through the garden without any more incidents.

You make your way toward the side gates of the manor near the stables.

The entire time Natasha follows you without saying anything as she tries to process and piece together the new revelations. 

It’s been a year since Dreykov has returned and remained in the kingdom.

During the year, you had avoided her enough that she did not see you as often to be able to notice anything unusual.

Her eyes glance at your hands clasped in hers, and it drifts up to your wrist as she remembers something from before.

Right as you reach the edge of the stables, Natasha stops moving altogether, causing you to stop and turn to her in question.

Her gaze remains fixed on your wrist for a moment before looking up into your eyes with a sad expression.

“The injury on your wrist from before, that wasn’t from an accident in the kitchen, was it?” Natasha asks in realization.

You don’t respond, but Natasha can already tell the answer from the look on your face.

With a resigned sigh, you turn to Pietro and ask him gently.

“Can you get a horse prepared to go?”

Pietro nods wordlessly in understanding and leaves the two of you alone for some privacy.

With a deep breath, you rub a comforting pattern on the back of her hand.

“Natasha, you don’t have to worr—“

“Stop saying that I don’t have to worry about you!”

Natasha closes her eyes briefly in frustration before looking at you.

“Why didn’t you tell me this was happening to you?”

You withdraw your hands from hers and wrap them around yourself defensively.

“I’m handling it, Natasha,” you tell her stubbornly. “You have more important matters to deal with in the kingdom than me. Not to mention your coronation is literally in a couple of days.”

With a huff of disbelief, Natasha holds your shoulders, shaking it slightly to make you understand.

“You are the most important thing that I care about right now.”

Natasha’s face shifts into an expression of pain.

“What kind of ruler can I be if I couldn’t even protect the person that I love?”

Your eyes widen slightly at the word, but you quickly brush away the feeling, remembering how emotional Natasha must be feeling at the moment.

Her instinctive protectiveness of her friends must have made that word slip out as meaning the friendly kind of love.

You place your hand atop hers and squeeze it comfortingly.

“You don’t need to do anything. I do have a plan to get away from him. It’s just taking some time,” you explain. 

“Then come stay at the castle for the time being,” Natasha reasons. "He can't hurt you there."

“Natasha, I don’t think—”

“Please," Natasha brings your hands to her chest, giving you a pleading look as she rests her forehead against yours.

"Let me at least offer you that.”

You hesitate, but before you can respond, Pietro returns with two saddled horses in tow, causing you to give him a confused look.

“What's this?” you ask him, gesturing to the second horse.

Pietro gives you a small smile as he hands you the reins.

“You said you wanted a chance to get some answers. I think this is a good opportunity for you to go get it.” 

You realize he is referring to earlier when you expressed your desire to get more answers from Captain Barnes.

"This is not really a good time," you remark.

Pietro nods in a gesture to Natasha.

“I’m sure the princess can get you access,” he states confidently.

"I'll go with you," Natasha agrees, not ready to leave you yet and determined to continue the previous conversation with you.

You glance at Natasha briefly, already guessing the reason for her quick agreement despite not knowing the complete situation, before giving Pietro an unsure look, but he rests his hand on your shoulder comfortingly.

“Wanda and I can cover for you until you return,” he insists.

Seeing his resolute resolve, you pull him into a hug, remembering how he was like in the library moments ago with that guilty expression that you recognize from before.

“You did good, Pietro. You always have,” you remind him.

He tightens the hug appreciatively in a silent response.

When you finally pull away, you ruffle his hair playfully, causing him to fix it back with a pout as you laugh lightly. 

“I'll be back soon. Check on Wanda and keep each other safe until then, okay?”

He gives you his usual playful smirk as his finger taps the tip of your nose teasingly.

“Always.”

After he secures you onto your horse, he points to Natasha with a serious expression.

“You better take care of her,” he tells her in warning. 

“Pietro!” you chastise his blunt tone with the princess.

Still, Natasha nods firmly in understanding before glancing at you.

“I will,” she promises.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Series Masterlist : Boundless Devotion

a/n: Thank you for reading! This was a hard chapter to condense, but I think this was the best that I could do.

Taglist: @lightwhoranoutoflight, @taliiiaasteria, @romanoffprentiss, @canvascoloredin,  @silentwolfsstuff, @blacklightsposts, @arcturusseer, @presser24, @dvrkhcld, @jujuu23, @screechcat, @vivs46, @cd-4848, @youneversawmehereooooooo, @pancakefan7529, @confusedspaceotter, @natbelovasblog, @izzy-b09, @iamheartless, @mrsrushman, @fxckmiup, @natty-taffy, @2silverchain, @traveler-at-heart, @autorasexy, @natsxwife 

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ᴺᴬᴺᴬᴹᴵ ᴷᴱᴺᵀᴼ ᴵᴺ

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐈𝐓'𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

it seems there is never an activity too lackluster or intimate for this couple to find pleasure in each other's company with their busy lives.

husband!nanami kento x wife fem!reader.

catalogue. fluff, slice of life content, non-sorcery au/ non-curse, modern au, salaryman!kento, sick & soft kento, (1) mentions of praise kink. wc: 1.95k thea’s preamble. inspired by this incredible art, i must admit i look at this at least once a day. → ✨ also this is my first published work, it's a bit rough but hopefully with time it gets better. thank u for reading <3

kento is a man of routine and order, we all knew that. he wakes up at a set time, kisses his beautiful sleeping wife, carries out his morning routine of showering and oral hygiene, dons his best suit, light breakfast, and is out the door by 8 AM. the evenings he returns home aren’t any less lax, whether he’s home at 6 PM on the dot or late by a few hours, he’ll always greet and kiss his beautiful wife, have dinner in his study whilst he continues more work while the lovely missus reads on the chaise or continues unfinished work of her own as well, then shower and oral hygiene, sleep. 

perhaps that was an oversimplification, but don’t be fooled one may think the man adopts and follows this lifestyle out of a need for security, financial or otherwise. or that he loves the unrelenting and perpetual cycle of working painstakingly 10-hour days, he certainly isn’t given highly-coveted tasks for being a slacker. he’s grateful for what the occupation provides, the salary and bonus that come with his overtime, to lavishly spoil his family, but that's all.

he has no ambition to climb the ladders that will put him in places he doesn't care to be, to rub elbows and kiss ass with scummy executives, leeches, and conceited thugs, only to trash talk and scheme against the moment he steps foot in his home.

all he asks is for saturdays and sundays, as they happen to be Kento’s favourite.

the days he has off from his draining 9-to-5, to be spent properly with his lovely wife. who was ever so patient with him, ever so supportive, and ever so his to love and cherish so as long as his body would allow him. even if his body was battered down to a pulp, he’d find alternatives as necessary, but let’s hope it never comes to that.

there would be times when not much would differ from the previous weekend, and well into the next, spent doing the same activities, or nothing at all. he never wanted to take for granted the time you spent together, and sometimes that meant not always making the most of those days, and he’s okay with that.

whether the two of you lazed in bed until the afternoon or spent a whole day cooking a feast completely from scratch, starters to dessert. visiting the farmers market to cook said feast, reading in your cozy home library, or even the sudden bouts of spring cleaning. 

there is always a welcome invite for spontaneity, a picnic under the stupendous aspen tree you simply adored at the local park. a quick overnight trip to a scenic and quaint town, whether your destination is reached by train, plane, automobile, or even boat. the occasional painting date has become a more frequent activity as of late. but there is one “special” activity that some might consider, unique. one that is relatively low cost, that is done from the comforts of your humble abode, that further advances the intimacy (according to kento), and is reserved solely for you, one that kento absolutely adored, shaving. 

usually, it was something he’d done alone after showers with either a rechargeable or disposable razor or by his barber when it came time for his bi-monthly hair trim. but recently it became a task that you’d undertake by kento’s request, sort of.

while you didn’t mind what would grow from a days of not shaving, he preferred maintaining a clean shave for the clean-cut classification for a man of his occupation, it also became supplemental to his hygiene routine that he grew to love.

it wasn’t something you saw often, kento so dishevelled with the most tragic undereye bags from the lack of sleep from what you’d think was months suffering from insomnia, condensed into a few days. a coarse stubble emerged from the days he’d spent in bed, and his nose was flushed with how often he’d been blowing it with the nearly empty box of tissues that was full just the night before. his eyes were dull and watering, a sight you truly hated. 

"honey, have you seen my hard drive?" he'd sorely asked for the 3rd time today, "it's in the laptop, kento." you called back, changing the towels in your bathroom.

he was delirious, with a runny nose and little to no comprehension of where he was or what day it was, thanks to the combination of flu medicine and kento’s determination to finish a work proposal whilst in bed, common sense would also call it overworking. despite your gentle commands that he needed rest, there was no triumph on your end, as duty calls. he was relentless, in his defense there was a conference that was meant to be held in person had it not been for his sudden ailment. though a live video conference was able to be arranged, owing to the urgency of the matter at hand. 

so you figured the fastest way to get the man back into bed was to help him complete this ordeal swiftly, that meant helping him in the shower, given his sore muscle ached. applying small dots of concealer under his eyes as to not bring attention to his fatigued face, deterring from the presentation at hand.

dressing him in his warmest wool suit, but only the upper half, kento was sound enough to know there was no need to abandon his fleecy Pompompurin pajama pants. the executives were only to see from the shoulders up after all. and lastly ridding him of a heavy five o'clock shadow that was speckled with smears of dried rice from the porridge you had made him earlier. 

“ok, that should be enough,” you whispered, carefully taking off the damp towel that no longer retained warmth, and squeezing out the shaving cream from the canister into your hand.

you proceed to spread the milky foam in a thin layer across the lower half of his face, letting out a soft chuckle at the finished outcome. you picked up the brand-new razor from the counter, puffing your cheeks and letting out a deep breath.

“i trust you.” kento whispered, his voice scratchy and hushed. 

you smiled in response, quietly informing him that you were starting. you crouched to his eye level, pulling his cheek upward with one hand, so the skin where you would shave would be taut. you intently watched his face as well as the area that you had just removed facial hair, making sure that there were no nicks or alter in his relaxed expression, verging on sleep. once you gained confirmation of such, you proceeded to shave the next row, and the next, working inwards towards his lips. 

rinsing the razor after each use, and wiping on a towel you had draped on the counter. though nerve-wracking for a first try, it had been executed well and was quite therapeutic. your eyes were attentive and your hands steady with every down stroke. as you continued to rinse and repeat, literally, you looked up into the bathroom mirror to see your husband rotating his head to view the work that had been done, then looking straight at you with a simple grin and tired eyes, asking what he thought so far.

“you’re doing so good, my love.” he plainly states, but those watery eyes said otherwise with an innuendo you couldn’t miss, in a singular eyebrow raise. stupid praise kink, you thought, looking him up and down, wondering how even in this state, where he acquired the audacity. it wasn’t long until the two of you burst into a fit of laughter, kento being cautious as to not rub off the shaving cream with one hand that covered his eyes as he leaned back in the chair. 

“what even are you.” you snickered, quickly calming yourself with the reminder of the razor in your hand.

you proceeded to shave, on the brink of completion, now focusing above his lip, where you took even more caution than you had before, due to the sensitivity of his skin in that area. opting to sit on his lap, nearly chest-to-chest with his sore arms that maintained enough strength to have a secure hold on you, even though your knees were bent, and your feet touched the heated floor effortlessly. 

a few stolen kisses on kento’s behalf, and nothing more than a restrained smile that he was fighting from getting any bigger as you finished the last few strokes. in his mind, it was anticipated that the minute kento finally got better, you were going to contract what he had afterward anyway. and in turn, he’d take care of you. 

so what's the harm in a few more kisses?

“so my dear husband, how would you like to start our weekend?” you asked, still cozily tucked under the blankets, looking at your husband who was similarly bundled under the toasty blankets, with your hand situated on top of his, placed gently on your cheek.

“well dear wife, it’s been days since i’ve last shaved.” he simpered, looking down at you with sly eyes.

it was something the both of you saw coming, once again he hadn’t been shaving for a while, but of course, it was deliberate. you softly laugh in response with your voice still heavy in slumber, “i’ll go get the facial steamer— in a few minutes, i want to savor every second of this vacation.” further burrowing yourself into his chest.

it had been a few months since the first time you had to shave kento’s while he was recovering, the proposal went flawlessly if you omit the booming sneezes that startled the executives even through the screen.

you had since made the switch to a straight blade like the ones you’d see used in old school barber shops, watching tutorials on methods exercised by professionals for efficiency and safety. 

invested in a proper kit that supplied everything you’d need. from shave oil, pre-shave oil, shave cream, a velvety brush to spread the lather, after-shave (which smelled phenomenal), and blade replacements.

it’s been even longer since his barber last gave him a proper shave after a haircut, and that time will only continue to be prolonged. he loved how close you’d be when focusing, but time after time you’d only grown to relax the tension in your muscles. you’d sit on his lap for more of the session, and those sessions would only go longer from the last.

where there would be conversation taking place about your lives, now and the future. sometimes there would be easy-listening music playing from the speakers that would lay the cornerstones of an “impromptu” dancing session, where kento’s hands would be politely placed on your lower back, and his hand strong in yours, waltzing all around your bathroom for what felt like forever.

he was shirtless, and truth be told a little chilly, and you were wearing an old shirt of his, to him you always looked beautiful. even though there was still plenty of shaving cream on his face, it would eventually be smeared on yours. there wasn’t much more he wanted in life.

if you ask him, any weekend is well-spent, even if you do spend the entirety of it in bed, painting beautiful sceneries, cooking your favourite dishes, dancing with ardour despite having taken one class on ballroom waltz, or you shaving his grown-out stubble. as long as you're by his side, nothing is ever a waste of time. that’s how it’s been, that’s how is it, and that’s how it’ll be.

and who knows, maybe next time kento will convince you to cut his hair.

[interactions] reblogs, comments & likes are appreciated ₊˚⊹♡

[voraciousvore]

Voretober Day 1: Space

I've been wanting to redesign a cover for my story "The Colossal Starship" and this prompt gave me the perfect opportunity to do so! I haven't posted that story to Tumblr but I plan to eventually.

Day 2 Thrill | 3 Drowsy | 4 Vanish | 5 Exchange | 6 Sorcery | 7 Slide | 8 Haven | 9 Craving | 10 Book | 11 Flattery | 12 Fall | 13 Peaches | 14 Pool | 15 Urgent | 16 Serendipity | 17 Rescue | 18 Fool | 19 Takeout | 20 Bond | 21 Ginger | 22 Drenched | 23 Wrap | 24 Omen | 25 Fruit | 26 Acceptance | 27 Rampage | 28 Miss | 29 Industrial | 30 Make | 31 Believe

[creativewaygrace]

Bible Verses About Witchcraft

1 Chronicles 10:13- Saul died for his unfaithfulness to the Lord because he did not keep the Lord's word He even consulted a medium for guidance.

1 Samuel 15:23- For rebellion is like the sin of divination, and defiance is like wickedness and idolatry. Because you have rejected the word of the Lord, he has rejected you as king.

1 Samuel 22:23- Stay with me. Don't be afraid, for the one who wants to take my life wants to take your life. You will be safe with me.

2 Chronicles 33:6- He passed his sons through the fire in Ben Hinnom Valley. He practiced witchcraft, divination, and sorcery, and consulted mediums and spiritists. He did a huge amount of evil in the Lord's sight, angering him.

Leviticus 19:31- Do not turn to mediums, or consult spiritists, or you will be defiled by them, I am the Lord your God.

Leviticus 20:6- Whoever turns to mediums or spiritists and prostitutes' himself with them, I will turn against that person and cut him off from his people.

Leviticus 20:27- A man or a woman who is a medium or a spiritists must be put to death. They are to be stoned; their death is their own fault.

Revelation 18:23- The light of a lamp will never shine in you again and the voice of a groom and bride will never be heard in you again. All this will happen because your merchants were the nobility of the earth, because all the nations were deceived by your sorcery.

Revelation 21:8- But the cowards, faithless, detestable, murderers, sorcerers, idolaters, and all liars, their share will be in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur, which is the second death.

Galatians 5:19-20- Now the works of the flesh are obvious: sexual immorality, moral impurity, promiscuity, idolatry, sorcery, hatreds, strife, jealousy, outbursts of anger, selfish ambitions, dissensions, factions.

Galatians 5:19-21- Now the works of the flesh are obvious: sexual immorality, moral impurity, promiscuity, idolatry, sorcery, hatreds, strife, jealousy, outbursts of anger, selfish ambitions, dissensions, factions, envy, drunkenness, carousing and anything similar. I am warning you about these things, as I warned you before, that those who practice such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.

Micha 5:10-12- In that day, this is the Lord's declaration, I will remove your horses from you and wreck your chariots. I will remove the cities of your land and tear down all your fortresses. I will remove sorceries from your hands, and you will not have any more fortune tellers.

Acts 19:17-20- When this became known to everyone who lived in Ephesus, both Jews and Greeks, they became afraid, and the name of the Lord Jesus was held in high esteem. And many who had become believers came confessing and disclosing their practices, while many of those who had practiced magic collected their books and burned them in front of everyone. So they calculated their value and found it to be fifty thousand pieces of silver, in this way the word of the Lord flourished and prevailed.

Isaiah 8:19-22- When they say to you, "Inquire of the mediums and the spiritists who chirp and mutter, shouldn't a people inquire of their God? Should they inquire of the dead, on behalf of the living? Go to God's instruction and testimony! If they do not speak according to this word, there will be no dawn for them. They will wander through the land, dejected and hungry. When they are famished, they will become enraged, and looking upward, will curse their king and their God. They will look toward the earth and see only distress, darkness, and the gloom of affliction, and they will be driven into thick darkness.

Isaiah 19: 1-4- A pronouncement concerning Egypt: Look, the Lord rides on a swift cloud and is coming to Egypt. Egypt's idols will tremble before him, and Egypt will loose heart. I will provoke Egyptians against Egyptians, each will fight against his brother and each against his friend, city against city, kingdom against kingdom. Egypt's spirit will be disturbed within it, and I will frustrate it's plans. Then they will inquire of idols, ghosts, and spiritists. I will hand over Egypt to harsh masters, and a strong king will rule it. This is the declaration of the Lord of Armies.

Acts 8:9-13- A man named Simon had previously practiced sorcery in that city and amazed the Samaritan people, while calming to be somebody great. They all paid attention to him, from the least to the greatest and they said, "This man is called the Great Power of God". They were attentive to him because he had amazed them with his sorceries for a long time, but when they believed Philip, as he proclaimed

Deuteronomy 18:10-14- No one among you is to sacrifice his son or daughter in the fire, practice divination, tell fortunes, interpret omens, practice sorcery, cast spells, consult a medium or spiritists, or inquire of the dead. Everyone who does these acts is detestable to the Lord, and the Lord your God is driving out the nations before you because of these detestable acts. You must be blameless before the Lord your God. Though these nations you are about to drive out listen to fortune-tellers and diviners, the Lord your God has not permitted you to do this.

Isaiah 47: 8-14- So now hear this, lover of luxury, who sits securely, who says to herself, I am, and there is no one else. I will never be a widow or know the loss of children. These two things will happen to you suddenly, in one day, loss of children and widowhood. They will happen to you in their entirety, in spite of your many sorceries and potency of your spells. You were secure in your wickedness, you said No one sees me. Your wisdom and knowledge led astray. You said it yourself, I am, and there is no one else. But disaster will happen to you, you will not know how to avert it. And it will fall on you, but you will be unable to ward it off . Devastation will happen to you suddenly and unexpectedly. So take your stand with your spells and your many sorceries, which you have wearied yourself with from your youth. Perhaps you will be able to succeed, perhaps you will inspire terror! You are worn out with your many consultations. So let the astrologers stand and save you, those who observe the stars, those predict monthly what will happen to you. Look, they are like stubble, fire burns them. They cannot rescue themselves from the power of the flame. This is not a coal for warming themselves, or a fire to sit beside!