#MLBB fanfic

[issacballsac]

Tangent Line

Julian (Smith)

Gender Neutral Reader

-

Another average day of work finished its gruel passing on your day. As you began to close up the bar; wiping the spilled drinks from before and collecting any leftover trash. One person remained at the end of the bar. God, why couldn’t they just leave like everyone else.

“Hey we’re closing up soon.”

An audible choke erupted from them as they sheepishly apologised before going to gather their belongings, the already rusty door burst open.

Dropping everything they were previously picking up, the straggling customer made a run for it.

Noise akin to a metal chain gravely disturbed your ears while the blue—weapon? Fell to the floor.

“Don’t. Run.”

A figure shrouded in shadows stepped forward into the bar.

At least the day would get more entertaining.

“Where? Exit?”

His newly seen scarlet hair came into view as he hastily questioned you.

“If you go out the employee entrance over there you could probably catch ‘em”

Motioning behind yourself, you took no time in ratting out your paying customer. Perhaps you should add no wanted felons on the entry requirements.

Immediately taking off without giving the chance to take a second look. Or you didn’t get a second look at least, as a cry rang out from outside of the bar. Someone else surely did.

“Man, definitely got him.”

You sighed, continuing your work to close the bar for the day. Cleaning up the glasses and flipping the sign over. It wasn’t unusual to spot purifications taking place across the Moniyan Empire.

Until tomorrow. And there tomorrow came.

With a melodramatic routine of opening the bar once more, the afternoon air flooded in. Setting out chairs and stools, the right ding emitted from the doorbell.

“Already? Well that’s fine what can I get for...you.”

The man—the assassin—the purifier stood in the door frame before all else. With a certain cold gaze that would make the devil shiver. The heels of his boots clinked against the wooden floors with each and every step closer to you.

“Thanks.”

Is all he managed to mutter out. Words don’t seem to be his strong suit, but, he pulled out a chair and sat down with the unease of a child whom had been scolded.

Rummaging through his slim pockets he tossed a few coins over the bar counter whilst shifting into a more comfortable position.

“Oh! You want a drink? What kind?”

Planting his hand firmly underneath his chin he began to lose himself in thought for at least a minute before pointing to a clear—granted almost empty bottle.

“Just the liquor straight?”

“Fruit taste? Please.”

Doubting you’d get anything else from him, you began doing what you did best. Making drinks.

With no time at all the fruit like concoction had been crafted and served to you only customer for the hour it seemed, strange.

Downing the well scented beverage in one swing he slid the glass back to you.

“Name is Julian.”

Finally a semi-coherent sentence.

“Nice to meet you.”

You reluctantly hid your own name as you went to clean the used glass.

“You, what is yours?”

“Oh I’m not from the Moniyan Empire.”

“Name?”

Man was he determined to get your name. The bright red light corresponding to his eyes beamed at you in wait.

Finally giving in after two minutes of intense staring you told him your name.

With only a soft hum the man departed.

“What the actual fuck was that.”

His strange pop up visits began to cease over time but the feeling of his gaze never fell from you.

It had to been—what? Months? Before that familiar desertion of the bar was restored.

“Slow day.”

Was the cursed words that triggered the door bell once more.

“Welcome!”

Beginning your daily customer service, as a group of three strutted inside. Three importantly dressed individuals. With a fourth shyly tagging along that you knew all too well.

“Hey it’s you again! Julian right?”

His piercing stare loosened, properly taking you into his sight. In contrast to all three sets of eyes now straying to him.

“You know this guy? No way, you do have friends!”

"Don't tease him Melissa. We are just here for a break."

A seemingly older member of their group chimed in. With two out of the four's names being disclosed. "I don't like alcohol, do you guys have anything else?" A boy-teen-person? With long tamed hair leaned over the counter scouting out the drinks. The rest of the group scoffed in unison. "Don't huff at me you guys aren't even allowed to drink!" Pony-tail wasted no time ratting out his fellow travel mates.

"Damnit Yin, now I'll never get to try some."

"How about you just wait like normal people!"

Awkwardly third--fifth wheeling the conversation you rested the glasses back into their caddy.

"So cola for everyone?"

"From before, the drink. Thank you."

Deviating your eyebrows from resting position your stare intensified. "I thought you were not allowed to drink? Oh man-I already served you before."

"I can. Thank...you." The coins flew across the counter once more. He did not seem interested in arguing the matter. And neither were you, prepping the fruitful concoction once more.

"WHAT? I want one too!" The girl, Melissa? Had taken coins from the elder's pockets and dished them forward. "Would you mind me asking, just how old you guys are? Just for my sanity."

"Not old enough. I will take a Gimlet. Mocktails if you can for the rest." He whispered the last bit , concealing the truth from the party.

"That makes two of us--four of us?"

"What." The man of blaring blue hair had dilated his eyes in a concerned manner. "Oh yeah I can't drink either, I just work here."

A sly series of stares burned holes through your soul as you stood awkwardly. “So, I’ll get those drinks for you.”

Glass clinking across the island perked the eldest’s attention to retrieve the beverages. “Hey we should probably get goin’ soon so we get there in time.” Yin dutifully commented downing his faux liquor.

Viciously digging through his pockets, the blonde boy wearily peered over at Xavier. And with his reluctant sigh, the bill was paid. “Thank you for your service. Let’s go.” The group exchanged bids of farewells, while exiting the doors.

With a boiling confliction within himself, your new regular slid a note on the counter. “I will return. Maybe, you—us can go.” Evidently struggling with his words, you briefly cut him off.

“Of course, if I’m not working that day, then of course.”

An acute smile disguised as a smirk fought its way onto his face as he regrouped with his friends outside. Eagerly awaiting to see you again.

I love Julian sm I’m kicking my feet in the air

Totally not proof read either I made this on my phone 😨

[aftmostreaper]

Hiii!! Hru? I was wondering if you could do a top!male reader with Vale with pure fluff?

Like vale getting jealous about the reader not giving them any attention at all for a whole day?

Tysm <3

I tried hehe

Three Strikes

Where vale waited a whole day for his beloved Fiance

Strike 1

It was yet another bright and breezy morning in the wind throat, the few early citizens walking by and going along their ways as the sun slowly rose to the orange sky, rays hitting through the curtains and into the city’s leader’s room. Vale

His fluffy white hair sprawled across the pillow under his head, body wrapped in his fiance’s arms, and face planted between the other’s chest… well that’s what he thought before the lack of warmth finally hit him.

With eyes still shut, he groggily reached out to the opposite side of the enormous bed, calling out his fiance's name, y/n, as he did so. But when he was met with nothing but the whispers of the wind, his eyes darted open, and his body quickly sat up, slouching down just as fast as he felt the pain in his lower back.

Recovering, he started to scan around the room, and when his eyes met his own reflection, his face quickly turned red as he looked at the scars and hickeys his fiance left, making a bashful smile bloom on his face.

Noting the absence of his fiance once again, he turned to the nightstand where he found a note. It read. “Sorry, I had to leave early today, There are urgent matters I have to attend to. I’ll meet you later at breakfast. With love, Y/N” A soft chuckle left his chest as he slowly rose up to start his day as well.

Breakfast soon rolled around and y/n was still not there. vale waited and waited, expectantly looking at the doorway, the hope in his eyes slowly disappearing as he ate his now cold breakfast. “Maybe he’ll meet me at lunch”

Strike 2

The morning sun soon rose to its peak, and lunchtime rolled around, again, he expectantly kept glancing to the doorway, slowing his pace when eating as he did so. Yes, he had matters to attend to as well for today, but they can wait, they were nothing but light matters that could be dealt with in his own time. But the time that will and has been spent with his fiance will always be more special.

Soon enough, he finished his meal, though the ate less than expected, he stood up and left the dining table, the food reserved for y/n being left to the wind.

Strike three

Vale went along his day, while gloomy, he still did his duties as the head of the wind throat, signing papers, passing laws, and solving disputes between his own civilians and connections between other nations.

He usually doesn't mind the chatters carried by the wind, but upon hearing his fiance’s name being spoken, he was on full attention.

“Ah, yes, I think I heard that he was going on the fire throat to meet up with Valir” the civilian said.

Now, he was not one to jump to conclusions… but… What could his fiance be doing with Valir? Was he cheating? Was this the urgent matter he missed breakfast for? Thoughts ran through his mind as he angrily floated to their bedroom. The setting sun shining down on him.

Dinnertime was… uneventful to say the least, Vale eating angrily as the winds flew across the room, the workers keeping note to leave their leader be for the meantime.

Soon enough he was finished with dinner and started washing up. And that is when he heard the bedroom door open from the shower.

“Vale?” Y/n Called out, but when he saw the light peeking from the bathroom door, he decided to get some dinner before coming back.

And when he came back, he was met with a very angry and angsty windy boi sitting on their bed. “Love? What has gotten you so worked up?” he was answered with a grumble “You know exactly why” Dumbfounded, he walked to the side of the bed and sat down, “Is it because I wasn't here all day?” crossing his arms, Vale avoided eye contact.”Valir”

That was when he realized. “Babe.. Are you jealous?” quickly facing him, “Am not! I don’t care what you do all day” Heartily laughing, Y/N wrapped his fiance in his arms, “You totally are”

Soon, a comfortable silence blanketed the two as they relished in each other’s warmth, but that was when Y/n spoke “What if I prove that I am only yours” a sly smile on his lips as he looked into his lover's golden eyes. “Then ravish me” y/n didn't need another second before kissing Vale on the lips.

This was going to be a long night for the two.

[whathaveidonetoyou]

Ok so- 

I'm not in the mlbb fandom but my bff is and she has written a Guinevere x Aamon fic, And I wanted to share it here so that more people could see it to encourage her to write more (w/ permission obviously) 

So pretty please, check it out!!

[fangdokja]

Fleeing is futile. The hunt has only just begun.

❤︎ Synopsis. As they claim you piece by piece, the silence of your resistance is the sweetest melody to their madness.

♡ Book. Forbidden Fruits: Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Granger x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Gusion x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Aamon x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Xavier x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanons. When Love Kills - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 3,966

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, non con, psychological manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, hints at rough play and sex, forced relationship, psychological and emotional trauma, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non con kissing and touching, implied kidnapping, bondage and restraints, stalking, BDSM

♡ A/N. Why can't I find any quality reader insert for my favorite game of all time. Gusion + Granger + Xavier combo wohhh. I've now fulfilled a childhood want. So gonna do this again, I don't care if it's fanfic underrated. Granger's cooked so hard.

♡ Granger.

The shadows of the dimly lit room press against your skin like the cold fingers of death itself. His gaze—piercing, calculating—lingers on you with an intensity that makes your breath catch. Granger does not speak; words have never been his forte. It’s the weight of his silence that crushes you, the unspoken symphony of violence and desire that thrums between you like an electric current.

You stand there, your arms bound, the rough cords biting into your wrists, a grotesque imitation of the violin strings he cherishes so dearly. He leans against the far wall, the red scarf draped over his shoulder like a swath of blood, his pale hands meticulously cleaning the barrel of Dirge. The metallic sheen of the weapon glints in the low light, and for a moment, you wonder if the cold steel of the muzzle will touch your temple tonight, a kiss of death laced with his deranged affection.

He has always been methodical, deliberate. Granger does not rush, for he finds no pleasure in haste. His every movement is a calculated note in the sonata of your despair. His leather gloves creak softly as he sets the gun aside and steps closer, his boots echoing ominously in the confined space. The smell of gunpowder and faint, acrid sweat follows him, a scent you’ve come to associate with your cage—both physical and emotional.

His touch, when it comes, is featherlight, a mockery of tenderness. His fingers trace the curve of your jaw, tilting your face upward to meet his shadowed eyes. They’re not cruel, not overtly violent, but they burn with a simmering hunger that no amount of carnage could sate. He studies you like he’s dissecting a prey he’s already gutted, curious and detached yet filled with a predatory satisfaction.

"You think you can scream," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through your bones. "But here... no one hears. No one comes. This silence—" he leans closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear—"is the sweetest part of the requiem."

The violin case rests nearby, its ominous presence a constant reminder of his duality. Inside lies Requiem, a weapon that has sung the dirge of countless demons, yet in his hands, it becomes something more—a symbol of his madness, his grief, his obsession. You’ve seen him caress the case with more reverence than he’s ever shown another human being. It’s as if his soul, fractured and jagged, resides within its confines.

His hands trail lower, the leather of his gloves scraping against your skin, leaving a path of gooseflesh in their wake. You shudder, but it’s not from the cold. It’s the way his touch feels like ownership, like a brand searing into your flesh.

Granger is not gentle. He doesn’t believe in softness. The world has never been kind to him, and he sees no reason to extend that courtesy to anyone, least of all you. Yet there’s an artistry to his cruelty, a methodical precision that speaks of his inner torment. You are his audience, his instrument, and tonight, he intends to play you until you break.

His lips curve into a faint smirk as he tilts your head back, his gloved hand gripping your throat with just enough pressure to make your pulse quicken. "Do you know," he whispers, his tone almost conversational, "why I keep you alive?"

You don’t answer. You can’t.

"It’s not for love," he continues, his voice dark, melodic. "It’s not for affection or warmth. Those are luxuries I cannot afford. No..." His thumb brushes over your racing pulse, savoring the way it flutters like a trapped bird. "It’s because you make the silence bearable. Your fear, your resistance, your tears—they’re the melody that drowns out the noise."

And then, with the same eerie grace that defines him, he steps back, leaving you gasping for air. He retrieves the violin case, opening it with the care of a man unveiling a sacred relic. The instrument gleams in the dim light, its polished surface unmarred by the bloodshed it has witnessed.

He plays for you sometimes—not out of kindness, but to remind you of the life you’ll never reclaim. The mournful notes fill the room, echoing off the walls like a dirge for the living. It’s beautiful, haunting, a stark contrast to the violence that defines him.

As the final note fades, he sets the violin aside and turns to you once more. His eyes gleam with a dark satisfaction, a predator surveying his prey.

"You won’t leave," he says, his voice soft but firm, like a command written in stone. "Not because you can’t... but because deep down, you know. You belong to me."

And as the darkness closes in, you realize with chilling clarity that he’s right.

────────────

♡ Gusion.

The moon hung over Castle Aberleen, a luminous scythe against the abyss of the night. Its light seeped through the jagged cracks of the ancient stone walls, pooling on the icy floors in fractured streams. The chill that crept through the air was unnatural, a biting presence that clung to your skin and made your breaths visible, each exhalation dissipating like ghosts lost to the void. In the suffocating silence, he waited, cloaked in the shadows that seemed to bend to his will, as though even the darkness obeyed his command.

Gusion watched you from the far corner of the room, his lean figure blending seamlessly into the dimness. There was a precision to his stillness, a calculated tension coiled in his frame like a blade poised on the verge of unsheathing. His eyes, sharp and unforgiving as cut glass, traced the fragile contours of your form. Every rise and fall of your chest as you slumbered, every shift of your limbs under the thin blanket, was etched into his memory with surgical exactness.

He had always been fascinated by fragility—how effortlessly it could break, how its destruction revealed the truth beneath. You were no different. Soft, vulnerable, utterly unprepared for the monster that had breached the sanctuary of your quarters. You were an enigma he sought to unravel, a riddle written in the language of skin and bone, breath and pulse. And oh, how tempting it was to solve you.

You stirred faintly in your sleep, your lips parting as a muted sigh escaped. The sound was nearly imperceptible, but to him, it resonated like a siren’s call. His fingers twitched at his sides, where faint tendrils of light magic flickered like the dying embers of a fire barely restrained. It would take so little to touch you—to mark you—and leave behind evidence of his existence in the hollows of your being.

“You sleep so peacefully,” he murmured under his breath, his voice a low cadence of menace and reverence. The words were not meant for you to hear, yet they seemed to hang in the air, heavy and undeniable. He stepped closer, his movements so deliberate, so unnervingly silent that not even the creak of the floorboards betrayed him.

The room itself seemed complicit in his intrusion. The faint scent of lavender that clung to your skin mingled with the metallic tang of the cold, creating an intoxicating blend that muddled his senses. He stopped mere inches from your bed, his gaze devouring every detail of you. The delicate curve of your neck, the vulnerability in the way your fingers curled loosely against the sheets—all of it was an invitation, whether you realized it or not.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?” he whispered, his breath brushing against the shell of your ear. His words were a scalpel, slicing through the stillness with surgical precision. You stirred again, a faint whimper escaping your lips, but his hand was already on you, firm and unyielding, pinning you to the bed before consciousness could fully grasp your predicament.

Your eyes snapped open, wide and glazed with panic as they met his. The sheer intensity of his gaze rooted you in place, a predator’s focus locking onto prey. He loomed over you, his presence overwhelming, suffocating, as though the air itself had been stolen from your lungs.

“Shh...” His voice was deceptively gentle, a soft croon that barely masked the razor edge beneath. “Don’t scream. You wouldn’t want to make this harder than it needs to be, would you?”

His fingers brushed against your jaw, tilting your chin upward with an unsettling tenderness that belied the bruising force of his grip. The juxtaposition was calculated, designed to disorient and unnerve. His touch was cold, clinical, yet imbued with a possessiveness that sent a shiver racing down your spine.

“You’re trembling,” he observed, his lips curving into a smile that was equal parts amusement and malice. “Is it fear? Or something else? I wonder…”

Your body betrayed you, trembling under his scrutiny even as your mind screamed for escape. The struggle only seemed to amuse him further, his expression darkening with satisfaction as his hands began to roam. Every movement was deliberate, methodical, as though he were dissecting you with his touch alone.

“So fragile,” he murmured, his voice laced with something akin to awe. “So exquisitely breakable. It’s almost poetic, really.”

The faint hum of his magic grew louder, a pulsating rhythm that resonated in your very bones. The light it emitted cast eerie shadows across the room, distorting reality into something nightmarish. He leaned closer, his breath hot against your skin, as his lips ghosted over the sensitive curve of your neck.

“Did you think you could run from me?” he asked, his tone conversational yet dripping with menace. “Did you truly believe you could hide?”

His teeth grazed your skin, a fleeting threat that sent a jolt of terror coursing through you. The pressure increased, sharp enough to draw blood but not quite enough to break the skin. He reveled in your reaction, the way your body stiffened, your breaths coming in shallow, desperate gasps.

“You belong to me,” he growled, the words a binding oath that echoed through the room. “No one else will ever touch you. No one else will ever have you. Do you understand?”

The air was thick with the scent of blood and magic, an intoxicating blend that blurred the line between pain and pleasure. His hands tightened around you, his fingers digging into your flesh with bruising intensity. The room seemed to close in around you, the walls pressing in like the jaws of some monstrous beast, trapping you in this twisted tableau.

“Stop struggling,” he hissed, his voice a venomous command that left no room for defiance. “It’s pointless. You’re mine. You always have been.”

When he finally pulled away, his expression was one of dark triumph. His fingers trailed down your body one last time, leaving behind a searing heat that felt like a brand, marking you as irrevocably his. The faint glow of his magic lingered in the air, a haunting reminder of his presence.

“Remember this,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “No matter where you go, no matter how far you run, I will find you. And when I do, it will be as though you never left.”

As he disappeared into the shadows, leaving you trembling and broken in his wake, the echo of his words lingered, a sinister promise that etched itself into your soul. And in the oppressive silence that followed, you knew with chilling certainty that he was right.

────────────

♡ Aamon.

It begins in the silence of Castle Aberleen, where the cold moonlight filters through stained glass, painting the stone walls with fractured colors of blue and crimson. Aamon, the Duke of Shards, watches you with an expression carved from ice and fire. His pale eyes are unreadable, glinting like his conjured mana shards—beautiful, sharp, and merciless.

To him, you are not just a curiosity but a challenge—a test of his resolve, his discipline, his control. Yet control is a tenuous thing, a thread stretched too tight. He doesn’t break it outright; no, breaking things is for common men. Aamon unravels control strand by strand, methodically, purposefully, until there is nothing left to bind him but his own desire, raw and unrelenting.

You never asked to be caught in his orbit. Perhaps it was your misfortune, or perhaps it was his. He doesn’t care to decide. He only knows that you are here now, your shadow crossing his domain like a streak of sunlight piercing the abyss, and that alone is enough to condemn you. Not to death—no, death is too fleeting, too easy—but to him. To the cage he will forge from his affection, his obsession, and his cruelty.

When he first touches you, it’s almost gentle, almost tender—a gloved hand brushing against your arm as he leans close, his breath cold against your ear. He whispers something, words meant to soothe, but the undertone is unmistakable. It's a warning, a claim, a promise. His lips curl into a faint smile, but his eyes betray him. They are dark, bottomless, promising horrors you can barely fathom.

You try to resist, of course. It’s in your nature, as much as it’s in his to pursue. Resistance makes it sweeter for him. He thrives on the dance, the back-and-forth, the tension stretched so tight it threatens to snap. Each time you pull away, he tightens his grip, his patience fraying but his desire sharpening. Aamon is not a man to be defied lightly, and you learn this in ways both subtle and brutal.

In the shadows of the castle, he strips away your defenses with a precision that speaks of his training. His words are daggers, cutting through your resolve, leaving you raw and exposed. He speaks of duty, of loyalty, of love twisted into something unrecognizable. His voice is a low murmur, smooth as silk and just as binding. "You don't understand," he tells you, his tone almost mournful. "Everything I do, everything I am, is for the ones I love. For you."

But love, in his hands, is a weapon. He wields it expertly, slicing through your will until there’s nothing left but your trembling submission. When he finally claims you, it is not an act of passion but of possession. His touch is scorching, his hands roaming your body as if to memorize every curve, every shiver, every desperate gasp. He moves with calculated grace, his strength tempered by an unyielding need to dominate, to control. Every kiss, every caress, is a mark of ownership, a declaration that you are his and his alone.

He takes his time, savoring each moment, each sound you make, each futile struggle. His voice, low and commanding, pierces through the haze of fear and desire. "You belong to me," he says, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "Every breath, every thought, every inch of you. Mine."

And yet, there’s a fragility to his madness, a crack in the armor. In the quiet moments, when the heat of his rage and desire subsides, he looks at you with something resembling vulnerability. He doesn’t apologize—he never would—but there’s an unspoken plea in his eyes, a desperate need for you to understand, to accept him for what he is.

But acceptance is not your choice. He has stripped that from you, just as he has stripped away your freedom, your dignity, your sense of self. What remains is a hollow echo of the person you once were, a reflection of the man who has claimed you.

Aamon is not kind. He is not gentle. But in the rare moments when he allows himself to be soft, it is almost worse. Because in those moments, you see the man beneath the monster, and it becomes all too clear: he is not beyond redemption, but he chooses this path, this darkness. And he has chosen you to walk it with him, whether you will it or not.

And so, the Duke of Shards keeps you close, his most precious possession, his most exquisite torment. He watches you as he would a star in the void—something beautiful, distant, and entirely his.

────────────

♡ Xavier.

The silence drips like blood, thick and suffocating, pooling around the dim chamber where you stand paralyzed. Shadows lick at the edges of the barrier Xavier has erected, its stark light casting cruel illumination on the scene. His eyes—blue, sharp, and cold as a blade—are fixed on you, and though his lips curl into the faintest approximation of a smile, there’s nothing but venom beneath it. He looms over you, impossibly tall, broad-shouldered, and clad in the pristine vestments of his station. A contradiction: the embodiment of light, yet soaked in a darkness that seeps from every pore.

“Did you think,” he begins, his voice a measured hum, low and dangerous, “that you could slip from the light’s grasp? Even shadows are born of its radiance.”

You flinch against the searing gaze that seems to strip you bare, his power coiling like a serpent around your chest. The mystic energy that crackles in the air is suffocating, a living thing that laps hungrily at your skin. Each breath you take feels stolen. He has caged you here, the walls of light forming an inescapable prison—your last, bitter sanctuary. His presence dominates the space, a crushing inevitability that consumes the very concept of escape.

He steps closer. The sound of his boots on the stone floor echoes with deliberate finality, each step a nail driven into the coffin of your freedom. The heat radiating from him is overwhelming, oppressive, and alive with a silent promise. You try to look anywhere but at him, anywhere but at the man who stands as both executioner and savior. But his gloved hand is there, tilting your chin with a gentleness so at odds with the storm raging behind his eyes.

“Look at me,” he orders, and the authority in his voice strikes something primal within you. Reluctantly, trembling, you obey. His sapphire eyes gleam with an unholy intensity, a fire that threatens to consume you. “That’s better. I prefer seeing the truth written on your face.”

His thumb brushes over your lower lip, slow and deliberate, as though testing the boundary between what is his to possess and what he has yet to claim. The contact burns, not with heat but with the cold inevitability of a man who has decided he will not be denied.

“You defied me,” he whispers, his tone threaded with something more dangerous than anger—a quiet, simmering madness. “You spat in the face of everything I’ve sacrificed. Do you understand what that means?”

You want to answer, to plead, to scream, but his grip shifts faster than thought. In one smooth motion, he’s seized your wrists and pinned them above your head, his strength inhuman, unyielding. The barrier at your back thrums with energy, and its light burns against your skin. You can feel his breath against your cheek, warm and steady, even as yours comes in ragged, panicked gasps.

“Ten years,” he growls, the words rasping out like a confession to the abyss. “Ten years of serving hypocrisy, of fighting for a world unworthy of salvation. Ten years of losing pieces of myself, piece by bloody piece.”

His voice breaks, but only for an instant. The mask slips, revealing the depth of his despair before the cruelty returns, sharper than before. He leans closer, his lips brushing the curve of your ear.

“And now you dare to defy me? You, of all people?”

The question is rhetorical; he’s not interested in answers. His other hand, gloved and steady, moves from your chin to trail down your arm, each touch a cruel mimicry of affection. Your body reacts against your will, muscles trembling under his predatory attention. There’s nothing soft about his touch—it’s clinical, calculated, the touch of a man dissecting his prey to savor its fragility.

“You’re afraid,” he observes, his voice tinged with something akin to delight. “Good. Fear suits you. It’s honest.”

There’s a glint of amusement in his eyes as he tightens his hold on your wrists, forcing your body flush against the barrier. The light behind you flares, casting his features into stark relief. He is beautiful, impossibly so, but it’s the kind of beauty that scars—the razor’s edge of a man who has abandoned all pretenses of humanity.

“Do you want to know what I’ve learned in all these years?” he asks, his tone softening to something almost mournful. “Righteousness is a lie. Justice, mercy, hope… illusions spun to keep the masses compliant. There is no light without darkness, no salvation without sacrifice. And you—” he pauses, his lips brushing against your temple, “—you were supposed to be my solace. My tether.”

His words hit like blows, each one carving a deeper wound in the fragile armor of your resolve. Tears prick at your eyes, unbidden, and he notices. Of course, he notices. A cruel smile spreads across his face, and his thumb brushes away the first tear that falls, smearing it across your cheek.

“But solace is a luxury I no longer deserve,” he continues, his voice dipping into something darker, more intimate. “So instead, I’ll take what I need. What I’m owed.”

The mystic energy in the air thickens, the barrier behind you pulsing in time with your racing heartbeat. He presses closer, his body a furnace against your trembling form. There’s a hunger in his eyes now, an all-consuming need that has nothing to do with the righteousness he once championed. He wants to break you, to carve his name into your soul, to make you his in every way that matters and some that don’t.

“You can struggle,” he murmurs, his lips so close to yours that the words seem to linger between you, “but it won’t change anything. The light consumes everything it touches, and you… you are too exquisite to remain unclaimed.”

His lips brush yours, a ghost of a kiss that’s more cruel than tender, leaving you gasping. His grip on your wrists doesn’t falter, even as his free hand moves to cradle your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze. You search his face for humanity, for some shred of the man he once was, but all you find is the abyss staring back.

“Hate me if it makes you feel better,” he says, his tone almost gentle. “Fight me. Curse me. In the end, it won’t matter. You’ll belong to me.”

The barrier flares one last time, bathing the room in blinding light. For a moment, you’re weightless, untethered from everything but the reality of his presence. Xavier’s lips curve into a smirk, and his voice drops to a whisper that cuts deeper than any blade.

“One way or another.”

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Forbidden Fruits: Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Forbidden Fruits”: @uniquecutie-puffs , @ikevampharem , @tnsophiaonly , @mokingbrd78k , @cooldeermagazine , @mimitk , @xileonaaaa , @acacia-koi , @purple-obsidian , @waterfal-ling , @jjune-07

[fandomofone]

DMs and fanfic and identity reveals, OH MY!

I'm so excited to finally share a new fic I've been working on with @kuromori4 for @mlbigbang2024 !!

On Good Author-ity is a collab (about a collab!) that features loads of flirty late-night DMs, two unwitting partnerships and three separate reveals. Join Adrien & Marinette as miscommunication abounds and (identity) shenanigans ensue- and they get to know one another far more intimately than they ever expected.

Rating: M (Mature)

Check out the summary and Adrien's teaser below! (And be sure to visit @kuromori4 's profile for Marinette's!)

See you in January! 😉

Summary:

When the Ladyblog debuts a new fanfiction feature, Marinette wants nothing to do with it… until an unlikely recommendation piques her curiosity. She discovers— much to her dismay— that fans are writing salacious, and frankly, quite shocking things about Ladybug and Chat Noir! Scandalized, she’s ready to write fanfiction off for good, until she receives a link to a fic that’s too tempting to resist— leading her to #1LadyFan, a surprisingly good author that writes convincing romance, and seems to have an alarming amount of insight on the duo’s dynamic that isn’t public knowledge. Flustered, irritated, and admittedly a little intrigued, Marinette creates the username PolkaDotPrincess and contacts the author to offer constructive criticism on what she considers to be glaring inaccuracies. 

Meanwhile, Adrien is thrilled to learn that his Ladynoir fanfiction is gaining popularity, and over the moon when a reader reaches out. After weeks of increasingly flirty late-night conversations with his mysterious online friend, Adrien notices that she seems to know an awful lot about Ladybug and Chat Noir. Eager to learn more about her, he puts her critique to the test and challenges her to join him in a collaborative effort to write a more ‘realistic’ romance featuring Paris’ favorite superheroes.

Snippet:

Adrien sat down in his seat, ignoring Alya and Nino’s cutesy love play in favor of his coffee, when he heard the group of girls behind him exclaim, “Ooooooh!” in unison. Turning around, he caught Rose’s eye as she wailed, “He’s soooo romantic!” Amused, he hitched a thumb over his shoulder and asked Alya, “What are they looking at?” “New Ladynoir fic just dropped late last night. I’ve already read it twice myself. It is capital H- Hot.” Her voice, and her eyebrows, climbed suggestively on the last word as she punctuated her statement with a sharp nod. “Different from the rest too.” “What do you mean?” Adrien asked casually, not conceited enough to actually believe that she might be talking about his story. Still, the wayward thought crept into his head- he had posted his story in the wee hours. “Hot, Agreste. Steamy. Smoking. Sex-y.” She enunciated both syllables as if Adrien was a small child. “Surely you know what that means.” Alya arched one eyebrow, pinning him with a knowing look. His cheeks pinked up at both the words and her mockery; he couldn't help it. “I know what sexy is, thank you very much,” he muttered. “Do you think I live under a rock?” Alya’s eyebrows climbed, and she and Nino exchanged an amused look between them. “Don't answer that,” he grumbled, annoyed that it was even slightly true. “I meant, what do you mean by ‘different from the rest’?” “I meant that I hope Ladybug doesn't know who #1Ladyfan is, or she's probably gonna be knocking their door down when she gets her hands on it.” Adrien coughed, choking on air as he sat up straighter at the mention of his pen name. She was talking about his fic! And she thought it was sexy!! And the other girls in the class were into it too!!! He was glad his cheeks were still slightly pink from earlier because he could feel them heating up again. He smiled to himself as he turned back around to face the front, his day already looking up.

All the thanks to my co-author, @kuromori4, for taking on this insane project with me, and the artists joining us on this crazy journey, @ayekasong and @eclipsesmoonshine14 . Big thanks also to the entire @mlbigbang2024 discord server- y'all have been super helpful every step along the way, and been even more fun to hang out with!!

[kuromori4]

FIC-CEPTION!

I'm so pleased to finally tease this collaboration between @fandomofone and I for this year's @mlbigbang2024

Our collaborative fic (About a collaborative fic!) is jam-packed full of flirty late-night DMs between two anonymous penpals who get to know each other far more intimately than they ever expected! Miscommunications pave the way for delicious identity shenanigans that take you on a wild ride with two unwitting partnerships and three different reveals!

Rated: M (Mature)

Check out the summary and teaser for Marinette below! (And be sure to visit @fandomofone's profile for Adrien's!)

Summary:

When the Ladyblog debuts a new fanfiction feature, Marinette wants nothing to do with it… until an unlikely recommendation piques her curiosity. She discovers— much to her dismay— that fans are writing salacious, and frankly, quite shocking things about Ladybug and Chat Noir!  Scandalized, she’s ready to write fanfiction off for good, until she receives a link to a fic that’s too tempting to resist— leading her to #1LadyFan, a surprisingly good author that writes convincing romance, and seems to have an alarming amount of insight on the duo’s dynamic that isn’t public knowledge.  Flustered, irritated, and admittedly a little intrigued, Marinette creates the username PolkaDotPrincess and contacts the author to offer constructive criticism on what she considers to be glaring inaccuracies. Meanwhile, Adrien is thrilled to learn that his Ladynoir fanfiction is gaining popularity, and over the moon when a reader reaches out. After weeks of increasingly flirty late-night conversations with his mysterious online friend, Adrien notices that she seems to know an awful lot about Ladybug and Chat Noir. Eager to learn more about her, he puts her critique to the test and challenges her to join him in a collaborative effort to write a more ‘realistic’ romance featuring Paris’ favorite superheroes.

Teaser:

Marinette sat perched on the edge of her chaise in her pajamas, staring absently across the room at her computer as its Adrien-themed screensaver played across the screen. She squeezed the ends of her wet hair with the towel draped around her shoulders, soaking up the water that dripped down her neck.  She’d thought that maybe a nice hot shower would help take her mind off of the intrusive thoughts that had been plaguing her all day. Instead, all that the hot shower had done for her was to conjure up some equally hot images in her mind…  Adrien Agreste, casually lounging on his bed in only slippers and a bathrobe, wearing reading glasses (for some entirely inexplicable reason, as his vision was perfect, like him), with a laptop balanced on his lap. His vibrant green eyes were half-lidded as if in a trance, so deeply absorbed as he was in his reading…  Marinette stood up abruptly, her damp towel dropping to the chaise. Suddenly, it had become all too clear to her that— Adrien reads fanfiction. She stiffly marched the three paces toward her desk, her head swimming as she processed this morning’s shocking revelations. It's not that big of a deal, really. It’s just that— Adrien reads FANFICTION. And not just any fanfiction, but LadyNoir fanfiction! Okay, maybe it’s a bit of a big deal, because she couldn’t help but make the connection that— Adrien reads fanfiction about her! Marinette plopped into her desk chair, swiveling around to face her suddenly intimidating computer screen.  Sure, there was no way that Adrien could know he was reading about her, but the truth of the matter is that she is Ladybug! So if Adrien was spending his nights reading fanfiction, then that meant— Adrien reads fanfiction about her… being with another man!! She groaned loudly, her forehead falling onto the keyboard with a series of clacks.  Oh, this is just too cruel.

Neverending thanks to my co-author @fandomofone for putting up with me, and the artists on this project, @eclipsesmoonshine14 and @ayekasong And to everyone in the @mlbigbang2024 Discord server who have made this entire event a blast!

[goszixx]

Unexpected

Notes: totally didn’t make this two weeks ago-

Warning: reader is a meanie :(, slight crying, overstimulated, no protection, semi public (a common theme in my smut’s apparently)

What a loser. The way his cock sloppily slammed into you, the wet sounds echoing throughout the classroom that he was suppose to be tutoring you in. Not that you need it. You simply asked him as a dare, knowing how it should plan out. A dare to have sex with the cockiest and most uptight kid in the grade. Sometimes you wonder how such a priss is vice president of the student council. With how big the stick is up his ass you wondered how he could focous in anything else.

His pace grew, his thrusts not stopping, jamming into your tight hole as his fingers clenched your legs. They pulled at the fat of your thigh, your eyes narrowing on the vice’s tilted back head and exposed neck. It would have been better if you got to fuck his brother, the president, instead. Aamon was hotter, smarter and all around better person. It drove Gusion mad whenever someone could compare the two. The thought of moaning his brother’s name instead, just to fuck with him, has crossed your mind.

“God I’m fucking yo-u dumb.” Gusion huffed as sweat clung to his bangs. His shirt was off, exposing his slightly tanned skin and lean figure.

“Like hell you are.” You mumbled under your breath after giving a fake nod. Sure the action of sex turned you on but seeing Gusion try to act dominate didn’t. Though what else could you expect from the lesser brother. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m going to cum!”

Semen surged into Gusion’s condom, his head spinning as wet pants left his abused lips. His head fell, brunette locks going everywhere. You rose a brow when he stopped thrusting, noticing how his body seemed tense afterwards. Usually having sex with you has the opposite reaction. However, when you saw a single tear drip down his chin you couldn’t help the scoff that came from you.

Gusion froze, biting his lip. He quickly wiped the tear from his eye and tried not to stammer over his words. “I-I better get going.” He rushed before beginning to pull out. Curiousity got the better of you. You clenched around him, watching as the cutest and dirtiest moan came from his lips. His upper body fell on yours, your legs wrapping around his fitted waist while his face burried in your cupped breasts. You didn’t bother taking your bra off since he seemed to get off just fine.

With your legs, you pulled him closer. He whined in your boobs, hands gripping tightly on your hips. “Is little old Gusion sensitive. Don’t tell me you’re a sub, makes sense why you can’t fuck for shit.” You smirked. It was unexpected, but you could feel the vice president grow inside of you, twitching. You would be lying if you said it didn’t intrigue you.

He picked up his head, chin still resting on your chest, “I’m n-ot submissive you dumb slut.” He bit back with a hiss. Though it’s hard to take anything he says seriously with red dusting his cheeks, the blush blazing to his ears.

The slut comment was fair, he was fucking you in a classroom with you on top of a desk mostly naked. But, that doesn’t mean you’ll let it slide, “Calling me a slut when you can’t even make me cum? For the vice president you sure are stupid to think a person with straight A’s suddenly needs tutoring.”

Gusion choked back a moan as his cock ached in your hole. “I-I-”

“You what Gu Gu?” You teased, your hands cupping his face to bring him closer. His eyes were glossy as tears filled them. “I never d-i-d be-fore!” He argued, though it was more of a cry. His cheeks were hot in your hands, burning and ablaze from the humiliation that seeped through his body.

“I’d hope so, no girl should have to go through that.” You scoffed with amusement. His hips jerked slightly as his eyes rolled back, “fu-ck I can’t do more.” He whimpered, cried, and pleaded for you to have mercy on him. He was a virgin, it’s not shocking how sensitive he was, especially since now he’s more turned on then ever.

A little laugh left your lips, “You say that but your cock is aching inside me Gusion.” Pulling him closer to you, you whispered into his ear, “Do you feel dirty, vice? How about you take off that condom, I’m on the pill anyways. Do you want to know how to pleasure women?” Your tongue traced the shell of his ear, feeling him shudder underneath.

Another whine left his red lips as you nibbled on the skin, a hand going up to pull his hair roughly. “You-u dum-ngh!” His voice shattered in a moan the harder you bit on his ear. You sucked the resistance out of him, making him melt on you. You could feel the sweat of his chest on your stomach as his lips quivered around the flesh on your mounds. For a moment you said nothing, hearing him pant as his cock drifted out of your pussy.

He shuffled, moving his hand down to pull off the condom and toss it somewhere on the floor. A tingling sensation filled your chest from the vibration that came from Gusion. He was speaking but seemed to be too embarrassed. You sighed, “What was that Gu Gu, speak up.”

Painstakingly, the Vice picked up his head. His eyes glowed in lust while his cheeks where illuminated in embarrassment. “Teach me…” He mumbled. For someone so cocky he sure seemed to be a puppy. Funny how that attitude melted away as soon as he got a taste of you.

He swallowed thickly from your stare. He knew that wasn’t enough, he knew you wanted to humiliate him more. “Teach m-e how to f-fuck you.” The Vice stated in a too demanding tone. Your finger traced the lump of his Adam’s apple, watching it bob before he spoke again. “Please.”

Your lips tugged into a smirk as you patted his head, his bangs sticking to his forehead from sweat. “Don’t cum until I say so ok?” Gusion gave a weak nod before picking his body up. You sucked in his sloppy cock with ease as he stammered over his words. Its as if his body ached for you, his tongue seeming too big for his own mouth as he leaned over you and babbled nonsense. His body weight shifted to one of his hands while the other held your hips, pushing them down. His nails dug into you but it didn’t cause pain, he bit his lip as he tried his hardest not to hurt you. “Fu-ck you feel really good~” His pleasure was on a whole other level as you pooled around him.

All of it turned you on. The sight of him flustered and drooling. The smell of arousal radiating from a man who has been secretly pining over you for years. That’s why he picks on you, pokes fun at you, not that it ever worked. So when he got the chance to tutor you he couldn’t pass it up no matter how strange it seemed. The classroom echoed with his moans, only making more embarrassment leak out from his drooling cock. You moved one of your hands to take out your breasts, the other grabbing onto Gusion’s. He flinched at the touch but settled down. His eyes went wide at your perky nipples, they were erected and pretty.

Curiousity got the better of the man as he slid his thumb across the bud. Pride swelled up in him when a small sigh left your lips. He continued that pace, watching you twist and turn from the small stimulation. “Move.” You uttered, one of your hands coming up to scratch his back.

Gusion obeyed with a buzzed expression, a small goofy smile being held on his lips. He tried thrusting but could only make it half way before whining. You clicked your tongue, “How pathetic, I said move didn’t I?”

“I- shit you idiot I ca-n’t!” He groaned. “You’re sucking me too mu-ngh~” The vice’s sentence was cut off by you slamming your lips into his. He cried on your lips as you pressed down on his cock, forcing him to take the rest of you. He whimpered as your tongue invaded his mouth, yet his hips started gaining ryhthem. The wet noises of your pussy flooded his flushed ears as your tongue traced the roof of his mouth. You devoured him, dominated him in his own mouth and man it turned him own. Your wetness dropped onto his thighs as he slammed his cock inside you.

Loving the noises your cunt made only made him go crazier. His hand found your breast again. Pinching and pulling at your nipple as a way to take revenge on you, hearing you moan in his mouth as his eyes roll back. Your hips met his, both of you determine to fuck the shit out of each other. Nails dug into his back, scratching his pretty skin enough that he knew marks would form later. He released your lips and pressed his chest against yours.

Both Gusion’s hands returned to your thighs, pinching at the fat on your legs and lightly slapping your ass to test the waters. He’d rub them after smoothly, never wanting to hurt you. “God, look who likes taking my cock now.” He whispered in the shell of your ear as you gripped him tighter. You grit your teeth, “D-don’t get cocky.”

A light laugh game from Gusion before his teeth grazed your ear. He pulled lightly at the lobe, planting a kiss on the shell before biting on it. He sucked it roughly, no doubt creating a hickey. “Fuck-k Gusion~ keep doing that I’m close~”

“Finall-y y/n. Now cum on my cock for me.” He groaned, moving one of his hands back up to pull at your abused nipples. His balls smacked against the curve of your ass. Everything feeling wet and dirty from how much you were leaking all over him. A choked whimper came from Gusion when he felt you clench around him so tight he was sure it was impossible to move. Your back arched as cum surged into you, leaving it oozing out of you once he pulled out.

Deep breaths left your lips from your release. Your boobs bouncing with your chest, your mouth open and ear ear bruised. Gusion bent down in front of the desk, not caring about the mess you both made on the floor. A hiched breath left you as the vice spread your lower lips open with his fingers. “W-What are you doing?” You hissed but didn’t move.

Lustful eyes peered from brunette locks. Gusion’s tongue rolled out almost as if he were in a trance. Drool peeked from his lips in hunger from the sight. How he destroyed your insides and pumped you full. Now all your mixed arousal was leaking out of your pretty cunt. “Let me clean you up. I’m still hungry.”

[deputygf]

I want to cry every match in a mlbb

[kikiwooo]

🎄 | Christmas with them | 🎄

special thanks to @i-love-fredrinn-vance for giving me the idea♥️

Part 2 here.

| reblogs and comments are very much appreciated |

Fredrinn.

Every special event was fun with him, because he always has something to amuse you and never let the moment go boring for the two of you. Be it presents, seeing different places and eating all kinds of food, plus having him by your side as your personal furnace and wallet.

The weather wasn't that cold but Fredrinn insisted that you should take his huge ass warm jacket. The two of you nearly did everything, building snowman, making snow angels even play snowball.

"I got you I got you."

Fredrinn chuckled as he lifted you up by your armpits, through this act of kindness, his eyes glinted with mischief. Smirking slightly and thanks that you can't see the growing smirk on his face, his eyes went between you and that big snow pile in front of him, taking ever slow steps towards to it.

Before you can even realise what's he's going to do you, you were thrown into the snow pile, a deep snow pile that is. But, who would have thought it was that deep when everything was silent for some seconds after he had thrown you into it.

Fredrinn blinked twice before taking steps towards to the snow pile and bending slightly to look over it.

"oops.."

Natan.

Time seemed to be the main problem when you were with Natan. He was always, always busy everyday, every second. Due to him often being in the Future or Past, going back and through, of course he would miss the special events, even confuse the days, months and years.

Natan's lips curved into a small smile after seeing you put hot chocolate on the table, his eyes moving up to meets yours.

"Thank you darling."

His fingers slowly yet gently grabbing the cup and raising it over to his lips and taking a sip, his eyes wandered to window, seeing that it's snowing. He raised his brow in slight confusion, putting the cup down onto the table and turning his head to you only to see you looking out to window smiling.

"It's..snowing?"

It was your turn to raise your brow in confusion.

"Yes it is, it's Christmas remember?"

Natan took a step back in his mind, actually, taking two steps back. His mind, full of questions.

With a nervous smile and a sweat drop, he asked whispering.

"I- ...I thought we were in...march..?"

Aamon.

Never a special event was skipped in the Paxley Household, every one of it was celebrated with great care and attention. Aamon was never late to celebrate it with you, always being on the time, earl if possible, with so much presents with him. Today though, seemed to be different.

Normally, Paxley Household would hire a big place to celebrate the special events, therefore you stayed in the Paxley mansion to wait for Aamon. Despite your waiting for your beloved to return, he wouldn't come till it's midnight, I should congratulate you for your patience.

Aamon grunted slightly as he slowly cracked his neck, he was tired after running back and forth, Cici was hard to look after. Always getting on trouble and getting on the nerves of the guards. He walked through the cold and snowy streets, his breath came out as a steam, he shook his head and continued to walk.

In the Paxley Mansion, you had already moved to both of yours shared room. The clock nearly showing midnight, waiting for him really did tired you out, so moving to warm bed really did seemed like a nice option..

Aamon finally managed to reach, even if he's late he came to you, only to find you asleep in the huge bed. He chucked breathlessly, finally taking the present off behind him that he got from Cici's performance, something that he's sure you'd like.

He didn't had the heart to wake you up, instead, choosing to slide next to you in the bed. Slightly sighing pleasantly at how much you warmed the bed bu yourself, he slowly yet gently, sneaked his arm around you and pulled you into his chest.

"Do forgive me...I couldn't came to you on time.."

[druh19]

༝ Green Icons |like and reblog if saved|

[heartsia]

amiga, faz uns icons da mathilda (ml) que eu digo se esperava 🫣

ㅤmathilda ♡ mlbb

[wwithoutarmor]

“When you pass through the veil of fantasy, there’s a world with a rhythm for you and me.”

Concept Illustration/Splash Art for Color Your Judgment: Chapter 1 — younger Aamon, Ariadne’s “paint-splattered apron”, plus some details and initial sketches that I love 🥹

I tried a more semi-realistic style with this one because I wanted it to look like it’s an artwork from the official in-game lore 😆

Some notes:

• Aamon’s just eighteen here and not yet the Duke of Aberleen—of course he doesn’t have his scar nor his resting mean face yet 😆

• I purposely drew him at the right-side angle of his face (where he won’t have the scar later on) to symbolize and represent this ‘other’ side of his—the Aamon before all that’s happened in his life, the Aamon that used to be free, the Aamon that “he could have been” (cc: Aamon’s in-game lore).

• Notice how he’s still got a little bit of his cheeks 🥹 Current Aamon has cheekbones and a jawline so sharp it could wound me.

• Look at that smile on his face 🥹 I wanted it to look like a smile that’s just bloomed, and I wanted his general expression to look like someone who’s just realized he’s actually having fun, and maybe falling in love just a little bit. Nevermind that it took me two hours to draw just to capture what’s supposed to look like a captivated or enthralled face lol

• His shirt! I absolutely love those loose white undershirts that noblemen wear. I just had to do this for me 😩

• That paintbrush stuck in Ariadne’s hair to pin it into a bun LOL resourceful queen

—

Q: Girl, why is the update for Color Your Judgment taking so long?

A: ahahaha… so I have this ambitious project… where I intend to include a concept illustration/splash art for each chapter… so ahahaha… I’ve been drawing instead of actually writing…

No, but, really. I am first an artist before I’m a writer, and I want to flesh out and visualize Ariadne as if she were an actual character in his lore 😆 JKJK

Here’s a WIP of this pre-render 🤍

[monpetitchattriste]

a secret I have tucked inside my chest

Here is chapter 7 for my @mlbigbang fic!

The air between them crackled. Ladybug felt a smile tugging at her lips, the fear and anxiety slowly being replaced by a warm lightness. "Is that so? Well, maybe I'll consider it, but only because you're such a good nurse," she teased, tapping his nose gently with her finger. Chat Noir's response was a soft chuckle, his hand moving from her back to gently cradle her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. "Only the best for my Lady," he murmured, the warmth in his voice melting away the last remnants of her nightmare-induced fear. She leaned down slowly and captured his lips with hers slowly pulling the corner of his lip into her mouth before letting it go and leaning back to see his expression with a smirk on her face. "You're burning up, Bug," he whispered. Ladybug's smirk faded into a look of mild concern as she processed his words. "You're just saying that because you don't want to admit defeat in our flirting duel," she retorted, though the lightness in her voice was tinged with uncertainty. Chat Noir's expression sobered, his playful demeanor giving way to genuine worry. "No, my Lady, I'm serious. You feel much warmer than usual." His concern was palpable, his eyes scanning her face for any other signs of discomfort or illness. He took his hand and felt her forehead, unsatisfied by that he reached over and grabbed the thermometer that was laying on the nightstand. He delicately placed the thermometer against Ladybug's skin, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow. The beep of the thermometer pierced the silence, signaling the inevitable truth: she had a fever.

[humanthatlikestuff]

Dinner was served. The food was delectable, desserts were decadent, and everyone was satisfied. Zhask's dinner party was a success. His guests left, leaving him, the little domorey and its caretaker.

"I'd like to assist you in cleaning up." Said the geomancer. The Kastiyan only nodded in response. Though the domorey is illiterate, it sensed that both of them needed help. The three of them cleaned the surroundings; Zhask arranged the used dishes, Luo Yi cleaned the kitchen, and the little domorey gathered the leftovers.

....

The clean-up lasted for an hour until it was finally finished. Luo Yi laid down on the couch in the living room, so did the little spawn sleep on the floor. Zhask drank the leftover wine from the dinner party. Truthfully, the Insect King didn't like cheap liquor, but he doesn't get paid enough by Moontoon.

"Augh." Groaned the woman. "The wine's kicking in..!" She exclaimed. Luo Yi had a decent alcohol tolerance, though she didn't drink much that evening, her headache was painful. Perks of being hungover, I guess.

Zhask stood up from the dining table and went to the living room. Little Spawn was fast asleep, though the same can't be said to the woman. Luo Yi struggled to sit up. Zhask went to her side and took the sofa pillows to cushion her head and back. The geomancer looked at him thankfully, and she closed her eyes.

Zhask remained at her side for some time until she fell fast asleep. Certain that she's not sick, he stood up and went to a bookshelf to entertain himself. Minutes pass and he's still bored. He drank so much wine, but he's not nauseous, not sick, not sleepy, unlike the geomancer on his couch.

Life truly is odd. Back then, no one wanted to approach him. Both human and non-humaoid heroes alike. Though Yve is an exception, because she wanted to end him, and still is planning to do so. Luo Yi wasn't afraid of him, or his swarm. Instead she learned to tame it, to accept, and to love it. This fact still shocks the Swarm King to this day.

Though Zhask didn't realise it, the liquor was working. Rather than the usual sickness, fatigue, and vomiting, it put him in deep thought and contemplation. He thought of the things he usually denies when sober. He thought of himself, her, and them.

Her...

Zhask ended his trance and sat on the chair beside the couch. He looked at both the woman and domorey sleeping soundly. He also wants to join them. He closes his eyes and listens to the thumping of his heart. Then darkness fell over him as he too fell asleep.

....

Morning came. Zhask woke up to the smell of chicken. Though he guessed, Luo Yi woke up first. Little Spawn was on his feet, purring and cuddling him. Zhask carries the domorey and puts it in his lap. The spawn wails and squeaks, which urges Zhask to pat it. The smell of chicken congee intensifies, and Luo Yi calls them both to have breakfast.

The spawn jumps down from his lap and proceeds to the kitchen, and the Swarm King follows it. Upon entering, they saw the geomancer. She looked tired, and sick.

Very sick.

Zhask was hurt to see her that way. But he felt it would be rude to point that out on the dining table. The three of them ate breakfast. It was silent, outside of the quiet groans of the geomancer and the domorey's little squeaks.

Zhask offered to clean the dishes. After all, she already had done so much. He let Luo Yi take some paracetamol and she rested on the couch. Thirty minutes later, he was done. He washed his hands and went to her side.

"Rest." It sounded like an order. "Until you are better." He added. Luo Yi stared at him. "I... am grateful for your support. I'll pay you back." She weakly declared. Zhask shook his head and he touched her forehead. It was hot.

....

Luo Yi enjoyed a sip of sweet Kastiyan Black Tea, when Zhask came back with reheated congee. "Eat." He commanded. Though Zhask was doing her a favour, his manners of speaking seemed like he was in charge. She sometimes disliked that, but it was perhaps his idiolect when he was still ruling Kastiya. Old habits die hard.

She puts the tea cup on the coffee table. Zhask settled beside her while offering her a spoonful of congee. She eats it. The Kastiyan feeds her, and after a dozen spoonfuls, the small bowl of congee was empty.

"I can feed myself, Zhask." Luo Yi uttered. "You're too weak." He bluntly replied. Ouch, her pride was hurt by his brutal honesty. As if it didn't hurt her before.

"Sorry." Zhask whispered.

"Hm? For what?" She asked. "...nevermind." He replied. The geomancer sighed. Zhask left to refill the bowl with congee. The silence was very loud.

Little Spawn was on the floor near the couch. It was wailing silently, because its mother fell sick. Earlier, it was a hassle to force the spawn to move away from her stomach. She knew it sensed her symptoms. But she still succeeded either way. She was grateful Zhask didn't wake up then and there.

The spawn approached her, and sat directly below the couch. It pouts at her. Luo Yi chuckles at it, and half-heartedly apologises. It irritated the domorey, but it can't help but smile as she was getting a bit better.

Zhask came back, and sat beside her. He feeds her again. She wanted to insist, but decided against it, since he does have a point. This was unlike the Zhask on classic matches who doesn't give a damn about the battle and goes with the flow. She only saw him serious and meticulous when planning strategies on ranked matches, or when he's cooking.

"I'm full." The geomancer stated. Zhask put down the bowl and spoon on the coffee table. "How are you feeling?" He asked. She yawned, "Sleepy." "Then sleep." He asserted. There it is again, his manners.

....

"You're awake." Was the first thing Luo Yi heard when she awoke. It was already afternoon. She slept for hours. She looked at the Kastiyan then the domorey who was guarding her. "I'm awake." She repeated. Her health and well-being was now much better.

"You have bad hangovers." Zhask commented. She looked at him, and smiled meekly. "This was... the first time it hurt that much." She commented. In honesty, it actually was the first time her hangover was that bad. Her age might contribute to this. Though she looks youthful, she doesn't get any younger.

"I reheated the tea for you." He said, then poured her a cup of Kastiyan Black Tea. She accepted, and drank it. Warmth enveloped in her chest and stomach. She felt her heart pound and cheeks flush. Her stomach felt tingly.

It must be the tea... not anything else.

"Your... fever worsened while you were asleep." Zhask recalled. "I used cooling patches to stabilise you." He added. Ah, that might be why she felt something cold in her forehead while asleep.

"Thank you." Luo Yi said sincerely. Zhask fell silent. "I'm very grateful. Let me repay you." She insisted. "Your payment isn't required." He replied.

"But-"

"Take this as an action from a friend, geomancer."

The Swarm King was stubborn, she can't convince him if she doesn't give him a good reason. Oh well, she'll just give him something anyway.

While lost in thought, Zhask cupped her cheek, then touched her head. "Temperature's normal." He said.

"No, I feel warm."

"Warm? Do you need more refreshments?"

"No... your hand's warm."

The woman held the alien's hand, and grasped it tightly. His hand was warm.... Accidental touches and caresses made Luo Yi conclude that Zhask was cold, literally. But today was an exception.

Zhask fell silent yet again.

Luo Yi learned to the alien. His insect-like body was warm. "It's.... comforting." She commented, contentedly. She was still grasping his hand. The warmth enveloping her body and hand was enough to lull herself to sleep again.

....

The Swarm King cannot breathe. His heart is pounding very hard. He was shocked by the geomancer's boldness. Was she an idiot? Or was she oblivious?

His eyes went at the woman leaning against him. Why is he warm? Why is he flustered? Since when did he become weak? Might as well let him be consumed by the God of the Abyss!

This woman! How did she do this? How dare she do this!? What did she do to him!?

....oh, how he longed for this.

After experiencing endless Light Years of destruction and invasion, he became numb to the feeling of warmth.

"You love her, father." Little Spawn uttered.

Only Zhask understood the domorey's language.

Zhask can no longer deny it.

The alien adjusted himself and held the geomancer. He embraced her.

Little Spawn also joined them.

"Mama's still sick." Little Spawn observed.

"Let's... take care of her together, then." Zhask declared.

....

Though today is happy, the future is uncertain.

The three of them fell asleep together. Little spawn was on top of Luo Yi's lap. Zhask was holding her, in a semi-embrace. Luo Yi was leaning to the alien's chest, holding his hand where it rested on top of the spawn's back.

They seemed like a very happy family.

Enjoy the present.... because the future is unforgiving.

Will this ever end?

@goldemas1244 @kikiwooo @gremlinthatdevourscontent

I might make some art corresponding with this story.

A ZhaskYi fluff.

Yey. I have shit writing.

[kirai0daisy]

Hello, I wanted to start an account here because I wanted to write things too.

Here is some information:

I'm (right now) mostly active on those fandoms:

° Genshin Impact

° Love and Deepspace

° Obey me! & Obey Me!Nightbringer

° Blue Lock

-! I wont really do Character X Character unless some inspiraion, my account is mostly for Character X (Reader) (There can be more then 1 character in the same request, whether together or not)

-! I'm taking every kind of requests;

°Fluff °Angst °Spicy/NSFW °Yandere °SFW etc..

-! I dont write Lemon/Smut/NSFW/Spicy for child characters or looking-like-child characters. I wont do those kind of quests

-! Anyone can give more request then 1. I'm willing to do everything.

-!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This account was DEAD for like, 1.5-2 years? And im taking this acc, so if u maked a req or smt like that before, i probably wont do that anymore but if u have new reqs, tell me.

I both write for;

°Headcanon(s) or °One-Shot(s) or both at the same time.

I think this all is enaugh for now. Please ask me/write in the comments if you have any questions or quest for me

[natanverse]

Origin of The Spacetime Walker

Chapter 1

"Greatness are destined for you, Natan". As a child was born, a proud parents stare at their child with full of smile. They enjoy the moment like the world is stop for a while. A baby that still cry to adapt in this confusing world that he will realize later, in the end life is about what you did time after time.

Natan, born from a military father and his mother, a well-known scientist in the most civilized city, raised and grew as a smart and full of curiosity. He is the smartest kid in the Academy of Science and Magic since he was still a 5 years of age. Always talk about science with his mother and always talk about weapon technology with his father, Natan always curious about inventing something.

While other kids is always seek for joy in playing together, laugh together, do some mischief act together, Natan is not one of them. Books and his parents activity really drew his attention. The most fundamental question he asked to their parents respectively is, "What is the purpose of this thing?". And their parents always have the same beginning to answer that question, "Everything in this world has its own purpose, son.".

A simple question, asked by Natan every single day to their parents. His mentors and teacher on the academy also asked about this by Natan. Such as what is the formula of this and that, as he believe anything in this world has its own purpose and a fundamental start to become something.

One day, on the way home, Natan just walking around the city park and saw a man with filthy clothes, isolate himself from everyone that on some gathering. Natan approach the man, and see the man is controling an apple without holding it to his own hands. The apple is on the air, just slightly away from his right hand. Natan saw that the apple is always changing from fresh to rotten and bitten and then back to fresh again.

Natan is shocked and amazed at the same time. And then, Natan asked, "What are you doing, sir?". Suddenly, the man that control the apple slowly stop doing his thing and raise from his ground. "This is space and time, kid.". Natan quickly asked with a slight feeling of scared, "Wha.. what do you mean? I've never know about this from my mom and dad and my academy?". The man replied, "O' kid, there is still much time to learn and so much space to explore, because you are the spacetime walker.".