#anyways for your humble consideration | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

riricatria · 1 month ago

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Hi, hi~

I got some comments on the last post about if I'm going to write a profile for Phainon. You better believe that I will, I'm just as big of a hoe for the blond-blue-eyes six-feet-tall-and-super-strong fuckery he has got going on as the next person, but his stupid ass isn't oUT YET RAAAHHHH. Judging from the leaks, the patch in which he's released will drop a considerable lore bomb, so we'll have to wait and suffer together until then ( ;´ n `;)

In the meantime, though, I'm going to write other profiles. Stay tuned for *drum roll*... ☀️☀️☀️ (◕‿↼)

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CONTENT WARNINGS INCLUDE: Dark content (dead dove), cisfem!Reader, drugging (and needles along with that), the general stuff that comes with yandere content (obsessiveness, possessiveness, imprisonment, stalking...), one slap on the face, a gun is involved, gambling, threats of violence (both towards reader and their family), forced non-schmexual touching, vomit mention, NONCON, coercion, rope, fingering, oral in both directions, booty stuff, toys, overstim, brief edging, the boss form, some exhibitionism, this is 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀𝓎 𝒶𝓈 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀.

Disclaimers can be found in my pinned post. The template is heavily inspired by @/cinnamonest!

S-FW

˗ˏˋ ★ 1. General look: How are they like? How do they behave around the darling? Are there any warning signs?

The Gambler. Stay away from the gambler, they all say.

Aventurine of the Ten Stonehearts is a figure you have only heard and read about. He's something akin to a manager, you've conceived. You know of his existence and have a vague understanding of what he does, yes, but that’s where it ends. There's not that much information about him online aside from a few rumours and some fans' musings. Judging from the pictures of him on the news and whatnot, he seems like a flashy yet charming person.

However, all of the people around you, literally every single one of them, are telling you not to pursue any further information about him if your own mental well-being holds any value to you. He’s a dangerous individual — the amount of power his people hold over the entire cosmos is copious.

And, more importantly, he’s an insufferable guy — or so you've been told. One of your friends has seen him face-to-face. They scoff and tell you that the man is just like everybody that has actually been in the same room as him says he is: cocky, cunning and downright malicious. He never lets his smile fall, he never shows anything but the particularly irksome kind of confidence that people who have never been humbled tend to have. Although, to his credit, nobody seems to have been able to knock him down a peg. He's an anomaly that spends his free days travelling and indulging in the art of wagering. He has taken a particular liking to the planet you're currently on, Penacony, for that very reason.

Well, everyone but one single person has told you to stay away from him. Everyone except one of your friends who happens to have caught a tiny little crush on the guy. They're showing you pictures of him, articles, gushing about how mysterious and suave he is. The opinion is contradicting everything you have heard about him so far. Of course, your friend holds no chance of actually getting with him, they know it very well themselves, but it's harmless fun to just imagine, right? You entertain their thoughts, and in the end, the chat does manage to pique your interest a bit.

You shouldn't pry further. Even your own gut is screaming at you not to. Oh, but you just have to see him for yourself. You need to witness him with your own eyes, you need to understand what all the fuss is about. Under the watchful eye of the Family, what’s the worst thing that could happen? And besides, you’re not planning on making a scene anyway — just taking a glimpse at him is enough for you. It would be a miracle if his eyes even managed to land on you out of all the people surrounding him. You’re not worried.

It doesn’t matter if you’re a citizen or just a passing tourist; you could be a member of the Astral Express, an employee at the Reverie Hotel, it’s all the same. There’s a single reason why anybody would decide to visit a planet like Penacony, and that reason is the Dreamscape. It’s all about having fun, it’s witnessing sights beyond anyone’s imagination and experiencing things that you normally couldn’t in the waking world. Surely you have enough things to keep yourself busy with without deliberately engaging yourself with difficult people. But after having heard that the man is around, an opportunity to conduct some research has presented itself. It would be a shame to miss it.

And so, you dip your feet into the pleasantly warm bubbles of the seashell-shaped bath. The liquid is faintly fragrant, a dreamy shade of lavender in colour, and the moment it touches your skin, you feel how all of the accumulated strain is released from your muscles. The room is locked, there’s nobody but you around, and you feel safe enough to settle into the Dreampool and close your eyes.

You’ve been told that there is one single location in all of Penacony where the guy is sure to be found. Taking his infamous nickname into account, it should come as no surprise that that place is a certain casino in the Dreamscape’s Golden Hour, and it’s exactly where you’re headed.

You wander through the bustling streets, crossing the oblique intersections, making your way towards the building with hearts and clubs painted on its high windows. The atmosphere is as lively as ever, the crowds are thick, there are people all around you enjoying what the realm has to offer.

Your heart is strumming in excitement; it feels like you're doing something forbidden — which you kind of are, in a way. Nobody knows where you're at, you didn't dare tell anybody about the adventure you were about to go on. It's supposed to be a surprise for your friend, you're maybe going to snap a few pictures to show them later. That, and the rest of your social circle's opinion on the matter would most likely not be very enthusiastic. Nevertheless, you're your own person: You can do what you want, and if that is wanting to go take a glance at some weird celebrity, that's what you're going to do.

The casino is packed as full as it could possibly be. There are people everywhere, drinking, revelling, and most noticeably, gambling. There’s poker, there’s slot machines, bets, roulette, two men are even playing chess with money on the table, and they have gathered a small audience around them. The atmosphere is surreal, almost: People are yelling, chanting, egging each other on. It’s nearly intoxicating. You have never experienced anything like this before.

However, the reason you’re here is, without a doubt, hidden behind the largest wall of spectators near the back wall. It’s clearly the main attraction of the place.

The multicoloured lights dye the vast room in all the shades of the rainbow. Bass-heavy, upbeat music plays on a volume that's just on the edge of being too loud, and there are men and women alike jumping and dancing all around you. You need to push through rows and rows of people, shoving them aside until you reach the front line of the crowd. There, you’re faced with the sight of a blond, sharply dressed man sitting at a blackjack table, leisurely leaning back in his chair, legs crossed. On his side of the board, there’s a tall tower of chips that’s nearly falling over due to its height.

It's him. Aventurine. You recognize him from all the clips your friend has shown you. The fair hair, the fedora, the extravagant choice in clothing — he's hard to miss. The guy looks nothing but relaxed and sure of himself as he finishes his turn.

His opponent, on the other hand, is sweating bullets. He has a single piece on his side, and as Aventurine proceeds to turn the played cards around, it becomes apparent that even the final chip is about to switch owners. The audience erupts, both in cheers and in anger. You remain quiet, eyes fixated on the man's form.

He carries a strange energy. You’re almost mesmerized. The way he presents himself is so… exaggerated. No, that’s not quite the word. It’s ostentatious. From the hat to the numerous rings adorning his gloved fingers, he practically radiates the aura of someone who could ruin just about anyone’s life within a heartbeat. You don't recall ever being in the presence of somebody with so much sheer charisma that you can feel it seeping into your skin. It fills the entire space. It's intimidating.

He’s looking at you. He’s looking at you.

Your gaze locks with his. As he pulls away from the table, his face pauses mid-expression, leaving behind a strange mix of a smirk and what looks like bewilderment. His eyes, despite being shielded by a pair of tinted sunglasses, pierce into you like daggers. Even through the lenses, you’re able to make out the distinct, peculiar pattern of his irises.

In a split second, he composes himself. The man on the other side of the board is in actual, genuine tears. You only get to witness his outburst for a moment, though, because the casino’s personnel drag him away from his seat, just barely dodging his frantic kicks and punches. His foot hits the table leg as he protests, and the pile of chips on Aventurine’s side topples over and scatters over the cards. The man is spitting out insults, trying to claw at the numerous arms holding him down. You would fear for your own safety if the staff didn't seem to be used to this kind of behaviour.

It's the nature of places like this. People come here and either lose everything they have or leave so rich that they could as well paint a red dot on their forehead. And, the worst part is that it's all agreed upon. You don't belong in a place like this, but you realize the truth of the matter a tiny bit too late.

Aventurine is a showman, through and through. It comes very apparent to you when he turns his attention to the people surrounding him, this time with a courteous smile. You can hardly believe your ears when he opens his mouth.

”Come play with me”, he suggests, pointing a single gloved finger at your chest. He taps the nail against the tabletop, beckoning you closer.

There's a horrible, instinctual feeling boiling up in your stomach. Every single thing about him, every last inch of him, is like a blaring warning sign plastered right in front of your eyes. For perhaps the first time in your life, you experience the true weight of what people mean when they talk about the gut feeling. There is, quite literally, a cold, thick sense of imminent doom deep in your guts. Adrenaline floods into your bloodstream. You're suddenly extremely aware of what's happening in your body.

All the eyes are on you, boring holes through your back, scrutinizing the way your hands twitch, how your jaw clenches. Your vocal cords fail you, and the words that are meant to come out as resolute are reduced to a mere mumble. You try to explain to him that you can’t, that you don’t have any money with you, you don’t understand the least bit about gambling. However, he simply shakes his head and makes a come-hither motion with two of his fingers, saying that ”it’s alright, he’ll pay for you”.

You value your life enough to take the offer without further objections. You pick up the chair that has fallen over amidst all the commotion and set it back on its legs. You take a seat on the other side of the table, sitting across from him. In contrast to your ruler-straight back and clenched fists, the way he picks up one of his chips and fiddles around with it is almost humorous. He spins it between his fingers with an impressive amount of dexterity. Then, after a moment of flaunting his tricks, he slides the item over to your side.

He asks you if you know the rules to blackjack. That you do, at least to the degree of being able to play, and you give him a meek nod. He gives you an acknowledging hum in response. He gathers the cards from under the fallen mount chips and begins shuffling the deck. He doesn’t save his skills in this act either: He twiddles with the cards, twirling them around with little effort, all while wearing a somewhat complacent smirk.

He sets the deck in front of you before asking you to cut it. You do, cautiously picking up a portion of the cards and laying it beside the other half. Judging from the way the corners of his mouth tug up, he’s pleased with your performance. Then, he trails the tip of his finger along the wooden top of the table, all the way to where your singular piece lies. He asks you to place your bet. You comply, pushing the thing forth. You don’t even know how much it’s worth, not saying anything to accompany the action, but despite the bad etiquette, he gives you a pleasant smile.

”All in”, he then states. Mortified, you can only watch silently as he pushes the entire pile of his chips towards you. Some of them fall off the table, rolling onto the floor and in different directions. A few people in the audience discreetly pick them up and slip them into their pockets. You look up at him with a questioning look on your face. However, judging from his expression, it appears that he could not care less about whatever ridiculous amount of money is tied to his haul. He begins dealing the cards.

You should’ve listened to everyone. You should never have even thought about stepping foot into this hellhole, but there's very little you can do about that now. He tells you to play. After a brief moment of contemplation, you open your mouth, speaking the word ”hit” in a quiet, dry tone. He places a card on your side of the table. You ask for another one, and then one more after that.

You need to get as close to 21 without going over the number, right? So, the total of 18 you have currently is a bit of a risky number. You end your round there. You don’t even know why you’re stressing so much; it’s not like you’re actually even playing with your own money — you’re not playing for anything, really. The singular chip can't be worth more than a few hundred credits. Besides, this is basically his other profession; a side hustle. You don't stand even the tiniest chance at winning.

You watch as he lays his cards on the table on his side, expression serene and calculated. He doesn’t look the least bit bothered, obviously, as his fingers glide over the black and gold backs of the cards in accustomed motions. Soon enough, his hand moves to hover above the upside-down one on his side. He taps the tip of his nail on it, prolonging the suspense. Then, with a smirk, he turns it over.

You can’t believe your eyes. He has gone over the limit of 21.

7, 2, 4, 10, it’s 23. You count once, twice, thrice, making sure you're not miscalculating. It's easy addition. You must be seeing things. There's no way. You’re sure that if there is a possibility of dreaming inside the Dreamscape, then this has to be it.

Aventurine spreads his arms and shakes his head in an expression of disappointment, but the gesture couldn’t be further from genuine. His smug face gives it all away; he’s not the least bit dismayed about the result. ”Oh, looks like I’ve lost”, he states in a completely unbothered tone, shrugging before he goes to push the pile of chips towards you. The pieces fall into your lap, in his lap, at your feet, under the table, everywhere. The audience erupts into yells that are just loud enough to drown out the sound of your own hammering heartbeat in your ears.

You leave the casino with heavy bewilderment and an absurd amount of credits that night. You can’t truly fathom a single thing that has happened in the past twenty minutes or so, nor do you really want to. The entire experience is comparable to an acid trip, almost — loud, intense, and completely and utterly incomprehensible.

Every single thing people said about him was true. You had planned out how you were going to tell your friend that you saw him, you had envisioned how excited they were going to be when you showed them the pictures you had taken, but all of a sudden, you don’t feel like ever speaking a word about him in a conversation ever again. Right now, you acknowledge that the correct course of action would be to refrain from visiting the entire Dreamscape for at least a month, if ever again. Your face is going to be recognized. Maybe you're already in the news somewhere. The notion fills you with horror. You can only hope that the insistent feeling of trepidation has left you alone when the morning comes.

But that’s not what is coursing through Aventurine’s mind. The sight of you is burned into his eyes like an afterimage of a bright flash. To say that he’s intrigued would be the understatement of the century. He’s amazed, he’s mesmerized, he’s completely and utterly enthralled by the maiden that happened to wander into the depths of the casino. It’s just his luck, he thinks.

He let you win the round on purpose, of course. There’s no way he could actually lose to some amateur like that. The fortune that has blessed him wouldn’t allow such a thing. It was a split second decision. Losing in front of an audience like that does sting a tiny bit, of course, but this, this is a result far better than any expectations he ever had. His wealth is practically limitless, so a few dozen million credits off his bank account is nothing compared to what he got to witness. He feels euphoric long after, even when he exits the Dreamscape and rises from the pale purple pool. Oh Aeons, he has to find you.

Aventurine doesn’t consider himself to be a person that’s easily affected by emotions and whims. Despite the amiable way he presents himself, he’s very guarded, very mindful about what he shares with others. He seems nonchalant, but inside, all of his alarms are going off at the sheer thought of you. He isn’t used to being bombarded with these kinds of sensations at all. He feels extremely vulnerable all of a sudden, and the feeling isn’t helped by the fact that you’re basically just some passer-by, a meaningless face amongst the crowd. Compared to someone like him, there's nothing that remarkable about you. However, it seems that the universe has decided otherwise.

He has experienced his fair share of fleeting crushes in his life, and he knows how those are: They’re brief, mushy, imaginary scenarios of people that you don’t truly even know, and they dissipate just as quickly as they form. This time around, however, it doesn’t feel like one of those. Whereas he daydreamt about that one person for a couple days a year or so ago, you won’t leave his mind even for a second. The quality of his work is deteriorating. He becomes more aloof, more absorbed in his thoughts. He has trouble concentrating in his own job, and for someone of his rank, anything less than perfection is unsatisfactory. His colleagues are a bit too frightened to comment on it, most likely, but he notices the effects you have on him. You’re indirectly hindering his life.

Truthfully, he’s terrified at the feelings that are growing inside of him. With all he has gone through in his life, personal relationships have always been sort of a taboo to him. His family died, he had to abandon his home, he went to hell and back just to get to where he is now. That, and he’s an especially volatile kind of a person in general. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that what started as brief fascination quickly turns into a full-blown obsession — ”quickly” meaning in a span of a couple of weeks. There’s a part of him that’s telling him to hit the brakes, to stop whatever he’s building up to doing. However, he ends up deciding that, if these emotions truly are a crime against humanity, he will gladly fall even further into depravity; further than he already has, anyway.

When it comes to you and Aventurine crossing paths, you’re under the impression that the casino was the first and last time you ever interacted with each other. That much is actually true, in a way. You see, his story, however, is just a tiny bit different to yours. The IPC has eyes all over the planet, the galaxy, the entire universe. He himself doesn’t need to be the one keeping track of where you are.

He doesn’t stalk you in the classic sense. What he does, however, is find your room number, your phone number, your social media accounts, the names of your family members, your home planet, your friends’ contacts… Nothing is too far out of his reach. Aside from the trivialities (stuff like your social security number), he starts fishing for any and all pieces of information about you that he could possibly want. Your favourite food, what you like to spend your free time doing, your pet’s name, your pet’s favourite food, your shoe size, your pet’s shoe size — nothing is off-limits for him.

There starts to be weird activity in your bank account. Money begins appearing out of nowhere, and the senders are untraceable. The amounts are not that huge, it’s only a few thousand credits at a time, but it’s still very strange. An anonymous account starts following yours. A free meal is delivered to your hotel room. It’s all alarming, and there’s a tiny suspicion in your mind about who the culprit might be. However, even the mere idea is so horrifying that goosebumps rise on your skin. You deliberately turn your back to it.

When it comes to courting, there’s one (1) proper attempt Aventurine makes at trying to woo you, and it’s in the most diabolical way imaginable. It’s a few weeks after the casino incident, and you’re making your way down the streets of Golden Hour yet again. You have managed to get over what happened in your prior visit, promising yourself that you’ll never catch yourself in a spot like that again. After a good few days of feverishly scrolling the news only to find that your face is nowhere in sight, the panic has finally worn off. Instead of engaging in the thrill of gossip, you’re going to spend your stay enjoying the Scape’s delicacies and seeing the wonders of the theme park.

Just as you're about to turn a corner, a couple of hands come up behind you and cover your eyes. ”Guess who”, a male voice whispers in your ear. Huh, you don’t remember any of your friends mentioning that they would be around today, strange. You respond to the person with a sarcastic remark and turn around on your heels, fully expecting it to be an old acquaintance.

Whatever is in your hand drops to the ground. You stare at his lilac and turquoise eyes through the pink shades, your feet frozen on the ground, completely paralysed. It’s a miracle that your stomach doesn’t empty itself on the sidewalk on the spot. Right in front of you, with an uncomfortably slim distance in between, stands none other than Aventurine.

He’s holding two bottles of SoulGlad in his hand. He’s about to open his mouth, but before he can get a single word out, you bolt in the opposite direction as fast as your feet can carry you. It’s easily the most surreal and terrifying experience of your entire life — making the previous scene drop to the second place — and you make the decision, right then and there, that you’re never going to step foot into the Dreamscape ever again. At least not while he’s on the planet, and maybe not even then. Unlike him, Lady Luck must have abandoned you completely. With how your head is spinning and the world is turning, it’s a miracle the encounter didn’t scare you right out of the slumber you're in.

Aventurine, on the other hand, is left standing in the middle of the street with one of his hands still half-extended. Despite what has just occurred, his pleasant expression hasn’t cracked the least bit. This just means that he's forced to take a detour to get what he wants; it’s no big deal, really. He has many aces up his sleeve, after all, and more than half of those are completely out of your control. It's a wicked game you've entangled yourself in.

All in all, there’s not much you can do to change the course of events that is about to follow. You didn’t respond well to his ”advances”, and you clearly won’t let him even approach you, so you leave his hands tied. You have a time frame of a couple of days to leave the whole planet if you’d like to avoid your rapidly approaching fate, but if you don’t manage to do that, it’s game over.

˗ˏˋ ★ 2. Securing: How will they abduct their darling? When, where and how?

He’s nothing if not resourceful. Aventurine, when it comes to just about everything, is used to having his way in, well, one way or another. It’s a selfish way to go about things, he knows, but considering his past, he would say that he deserves as much.

His method of choice in kidnapping you is a bit unconventional, but it works nonetheless. It's his day off, and you haven’t left the hotel yet, he sees, to his delight. It’s a bit foolish of you to assume that the only way he can reach you is via the dream world. There are so many ways he could go about abducting you, there are so many open opportunities, but ultimately, it ends up being a single meal that seals your fate.

You’re having dinner at the hotel restaurant. You have made the decision to leave Penacony — maybe it’s via the Express, maybe it’s on a random spaceship — but you only have a few hours more to spend on the planet. You have decided to indulge yourself a bit, having a nice supper all by yourself while watching people pass by, going on about their day, excited to visit the Dreamscape. You wish you still had that same enthusiasm, but in light of all that has gone down, seeing what the rest of the galaxy has to offer is for the better. You're relieved, actually.

However, not long after you’ve finished your plate, your stomach starts feeling weird. Soon enough, the sensation grows into full-on, unbearable nausea. The meal must have had something wrong with it, is your first thought. Maybe it’s food poisoning, you’re not really sure, but you do start panicking the slightest bit when your vision starts shifting not long after. Your insides are twisting and turning, your head is spinning, you’re losing feeling in your limbs. It’s like you’ve just drank an entire bottle of whiskey. You're not sure if a single sound comes out when you attempt to call for help.

Everything is hazy. You don’t understand what’s happening around you. A person appears in your field of view, at least you think that it’s a person, and they ask something. Simultaneously, you feel a weight around your shoulders. Another voice speaks. You can’t make out a word. You’re barely clinging to your awareness. Then, as the two voices continue chatting, you feel your form being lifted.

Your vision starts going in and out. You can't feel your legs or your hands. You don't know which way is up and which way is down. There's a ringing in your ears, two different tones that you suppose are words, but you can't tell anymore. It’s mere seconds after that you fall into unconsciousness.

Oh, goodness, Aventurine thinks. He knows his luck rarely turns its back on him, but this must be a new record. Not a single person questions why he’s dragging a barely breathing woman on his shoulders. Or, maybe they do question it, in their minds, but none are brave enough to intervene. It’s kind of funny, actually, how easy it would be to kidnap any of these people, and the most prominent reaction from the witnesses would be a brief eye contact. Maybe they're trying to convince themselves that you're just a black-out drunk acquaintance of his, that there's an entirely normal explanation to this. Perceived status is a wonderfully rotten thing, he thinks. Plus, he’s in the core of his element: lying, deceiving, bluffing. He would’ve made a good delinquent, no doubt.

Heaving you through the never-ending hallways and sky-high elevators, he takes you to one of Penacony’s countless suites. It’s one of the many under his name, costing millions of credits, but money like that is nothing to him. He likes his place of stay a bit extra, and besides, he would hate to hear that you’re unsatisfied with what he has to offer. You, unlike all of the luxuries, can’t exactly be bought, so he better leave a great impression in this respect, at least. Bribery in the classic sense could only get him so far, and the thing he wants is you, not the idea of you that’s been achieved by throwing some expensive stuff your way.

He sets your limp body on his bed. You have been completely out of it for the better part of the walk to his room. The drug's effects are a bit too potent, it seems, but it will wear off in a good few hours, and he has that much time to get everything ready for you. He did his fair share of preparations, needless to say, but now that he actually has you, living and breathing, in his clutches, he starts considering things that didn’t seem that important before. What will you think about the colour of the sheets? He can replace those in a heartbeat if you’re not a fan, of course. What about the suite itself? It’s really large, there are more rooms than you can count for you to roam in, but if it’s still not vast enough for you, he can just buy a few more. It’s no big deal, really.

Oh, but he can’t let his mind wander for too long. Your sleeping face is so cute. Your expression is all relaxed, unlike when you laid your eyes on him back in the Dreamscape. Oh, how miserable the past few days of waiting have been for him, but it all has become worth it. There’s a bit of drool at the corner of your ajar mouth. He hopes the food didn’t mess with your stomach too much: As much as he adores you, cleaning puke off the carpet really isn’t his thing.

The few hours it takes for you to wake up are perhaps among the longest in his entire lifetime. He lies down next to you, slipping an arm under your head in a loving manner, making sure that your neck is not straining. He scrolls around on his phone, maybe going through your social media, watching some reels, shopping for some clothes for you to wear. He knows your clothing size, obviously, and your preferred style. Oh, that one’s nice, he’s going to get it for you. That one, too, and that one. He’s just idly killing time by spending insane amounts of credits in the span of mere minutes.

And then, you start stirring. He perks up, immediately putting his phone down on the bed and turning to your form. Your eyes flutter open, glossy and exhausted, wearily staring straight ahead. It’s clear that you’re still at least a bit disoriented. He reaches for your face, softly tucking a piece of stray hair behind your ear. Your half-lidded gaze fixates on his features.

Thank god the hotel walls are thick, he thinks. It’s a miracle that the sheer volume of your scream doesn’t shatter the pink lenses of his shades that now rest on his forehead. You attempt to scramble away from him, but the drug still hasn’t completely left your system, so you only manage to twitch around a bit. Your eyes, wide with terror, are flitting around the room, anywhere but his form, unable to truly focus on anything.

He watches you with something akin to intrigue as you continue your weak flailing and screeching. It’s a survival instinct, he guesses, the way your first response is to alert as much attention as possible, even though there's nobody else around. So, unfortunately, the only attention there is to get here is from him. He's sure you'll grow to welcome it eventually.

˗ˏˋ ★ 3. Life: What is it like to live with them? How do they treat the darling?

The first few days after the initial shock are basically just getting to know Aventurine in general. While he knows just about everything there is to know about you, you can’t say the same when it comes to him. He’s just some strange man from the IPC, and on top of that, his public image is basically limited to how wealthy and flamboyant he is. Aventurine isn’t even his real name, but that’s what you learn to call him by.

You grasp the basics very quickly. The suite will be your home from now on, at least for the time being. You can wander around as much as you want, but it must happen inside the walls of his living quarters. You can do whatever you’d like — flip the entire place over if you’re feeling like it, he can afford that. Your phone? Oh yeah, he got rid of that thing, you won't be needing it. Here, have a new one! The only person you can contact through it is him, of course, but it’s better than having nothing, right? Go on, say thank you.

Furthermore, he lets you know that the two of you are in a relationship now. Alright, alright, it can only be dating for now if it really bothers you that much. He doesn’t understand why you’re so very hesitant, really, he has an entire queue of people lining up to be his partner. If anything, you should be honoured and relieved, even! He could be some ugly 55-year-old fuck that collects girls half his age to be his sex slaves. He’s not like that, and as a cherry on top, he can make your life way better than it was before this. It just comes at the cost of... a lot of things. But no matter.

The money aspect becomes very clear to you very early into your captivity. He throws credits around like they’re receipts he found at the bottom of his bag. You could do as little as mention something you like; it doesn’t even have to be a specific thing, you could say that ”wow, that flower is pretty”, and bam, a bouquet of them is in your hands in less than half an hour. You have nice clothes, as much food as you could ever want, you have electronics, TVs, basically any streaming services that exist, (he probably downloads some popular gacha on your new phone and buys you a billion of whatever the pulling currency is), and you have his attention basically whenever and wherever you want.

And, he sure likes spending time with you. Whether it’s sleeping together, cuddling, just lazing around or being on work business, he has you with him nearly at all times. It really doesn't matter what he's doing, you're most likely going to accompany him.

His one favorite thing to do is just chat with you about mundane things, life, people, whatever. Or, the correct wording would be chatting to you, because you rarely feel like entertaining him with your words. That doesn't matter, though, because he could blabber away at you for hours on end regardless of if you're answering if he didn't have responsibilities to take care of. It gets irritating pretty fast. You're not a big fan of his monologues in general: There’s always a tiny bit of condescension in the way he talks to you. He kind of treats you like you were stupid, in a way, or that’s what it feels like to you.

Aventurine's job, as inconvenient as it is at times, does require him to travel quite a bit. Leaving you behind would be bothersome for a myriad of reasons, so more often than not, you're coming with him on these trips. He can’t have you be alone for too long, you know? He trusts his security measures, don't get him wrong, and taking risks is sort of his thing, but you’re the one thing he would prefer not to mess around with when it comes to that. So, oftentimes, you’ll end up accompanying him to whatever higher-up business is to be dealt with that day or night. It’s scary, you find, to see all the people that get to pull on the strings that control the entire universe's economy, ogling at the unfamiliar person that accompanies Aventurine everywhere he goes.

Oh, and prepare to be obnoxiously dolled up to the max for all of his gigs. Even if you somehow managed to bump into someone you know, you doubt they would recognize you under all of the bling-bling and makeup. If you didn't already, you'll soon come to understand that Aventurine is very particular about appearances.

˗ˏˋ ★ 4. Rules: What kind of rules do they enforce? How lenient are they? How do they keep their darling in check?

You directly ask Aventurine about the rules one time. You’re sitting at the table, having whatever he guessed you were craving for breakfast. He’s been yapping your ear off for the past twenty minutes, but as you air the question, he goes quiet for a while.

Pondering his answer, he tilts his head to the side, and his smile grows. Just by his reaction, you know that whatever is about to come out of his mouth is going to, if not ruin your entire day, then make you want to punch his stupid face in. He taps the tip of his chin with his finger as if considering his response long and hard, making little clicking sounds with his tongue, resting back in his chair with a thoughtful expression.

"Don’t try to escape", is the first thing he says. Okay, yeah, that’s given with whatever fucked-up logic he’s going by. ”Do what I tell you”, is the second rule he comes up with. Sure, you have kind of been forced to obey that one, too. He goes quiet after reciting the first two, and for a moment, you think that perhaps he's actually being serious about this.

Then, then, after remaining silent for a good while, he speaks out a third rule. And it’s not even a fucking rule. ”Your left heel can’t touch the floor when you walk”, or something equally as outrageous. It’s incredibly stupid, so infuriatingly specific, such obvious bait that you wonder if you should stab the fork in your hand into his eye right then and there. Your jaw clenches with the rage you’re holding back, and judging from how his grin deepens, he got the exact reaction he wanted out of you. He’s deliberately riling you up, making you mad on purpose, pushing your buttons until your circuits overload. It's terrible.

No, but seriously, all he actually requires of you is you staying where he wants you to: by his side and preferably with at least a neutral expression on your face. Ah, and don’t talk to anybody. As much as he doesn’t think that anyone would care enough about the ramblings of some random woman, he can’t take the risk of his reputation taking a hit because of it. On the side of all his hustle, he does serious business and represents the IPC, and if you don’t respect that, he’ll have to come up with a more creative solution to keeping you quiet.

When it comes to keeping you docile, Aventurine uses the classic method of locking the door. Since he is a powerful figure, the places he stays in aren’t exactly easy to break into, or in this case, out of. The windows are bulletproof, the locks would require a jackhammer level drill to break, and bursting through the walls is an idea you wouldn’t even entertain, he trusts. All in all, he doesn't really have to take any drastic measures to make sure that you don't escape.

There’s one exception to that, though, and it is if you’re seriously being a threat to yourself or him. Like he said, you can wreck the entire place if you’re feeling like it, but don’t hurt yourself while at it. If it looks like you’re doing less demolishing and more indirectly beating yourself, he might drug you much like he did when he abducted you. He keeps a syringe ready in the locked drawer of his nightstand in case you refuse to calm down. If you're refusing to listen to his warnings, he’ll just come up to you and stick the needle into whatever body part is available. Soon after, you’ll be nice and peaceful again. Don’t worry, it’ll wear off in an hour or two — you can take a nap with him in the meantime.

Oh, and he definitely uses threats to keep you in check. With all the power he holds, he has the ability to seriously affect the lives of those you hold dear. Wouldn’t it be a shame if one of your family members were to lose their job? It would, he bets. So, behave.

˗ˏˋ ★ 5. Consequences: What kind of punishments will the darling face? How do they punish different offences?

He’s… a bit stumped when it comes to punishing you. There’s locking you up, there’s tying you down on the bed, there’s drugging you, but beyond those, he hasn’t really thought about you being disagreeable to the point of him having to step up with actually disciplining you. He’s kind of lenient in this way; you can get away with a lot of stuff without any real consequences.

A big thing about him is that he refuses to make you suffer through things that he had to do back when he was a slave. Regardless of what you do, you’ll always have food on your plate and a bed to sleep in, that kind of thing. He doesn’t know what it is about it exactly, but even thinking of exposing you to those horrors makes his stomach sink. They’re completely out of the question.

What he will do, however, is firmly remind you about who holds the authority here. If you’ve done something really bad like managing to get into his phone or trying to talk to some poor IPC employee while he was away for a minute, you can be sure that you won't get off with a mere warning. He’ll grab you by your jaw or your neck, dig his nails into your skin, squeezing your cheeks together while looking down at you, directly in your eyes. It’s one of the rare times you’ll see him show anything else but self-assurance, and for once, the smile disappears from his face. He hisses right into your ear, telling you to never do whatever you did ever again if you’d like to keep all your fingers and the ability to speak. The point gets across.

The one thing that gets the worst reaction out of him, like with most yanderes, is managing to escape. It’s not only the action itself but also the fact that it takes a considerable amount of wit to be able to pull it off. He’s pretty damn meticulous about his ways of keeping you captive, and if you somehow succeed in slipping past those, he will be livid, both at you and himself.

If you do escape, it’s while on a business trip. As much as he would like to, he can’t always get a maximum security room to stay in, so your best opportunities to flee are when you're staying in a less guarded place. They are few and far between, but they exist.

With both physical and intellectual efforts, you may be able to make it out of the room you're residing in. Maybe it's via an unlocked door, maybe through a window, it doesn't really matter. What matters is that there is an entire nine minutes in between the moment of your breakout and when an extremely nervous assistant interrupts his business meeting to bring some urgent news to Sir Aventurine. She lets him know that ”something that belongs to him has been captured in the VIP lounge”. Digesting the information, he does his absolute best to keep a straight face in front of his expectant business partner, but he can’t help the way his eye twitches. He shortly excuses himself.

The moment you have to face him after his men have caught up to you in the lobby and carried you back to his room is… terrifying. The situation itself is awkward, certainly, at least to the two agents who are holding you up by both of your arms all the while you’re flailing your limbs around and screeching like a cornered animal. The description isn't that far off from the truth, either. It doesn't matter how hard you fight, or how much noise you make, Aventurine only dismisses the two men with a wave of his hand and a blank stare, saying that he’ll take care of it. And oh, he will take care of you, alright.

The second the door locks behind the two of you, you know it’s not going to be pretty. However, whatever it is that you expected him to do, it is not for him to pull out a revolver and point it directly at your head. Your eyes fly wide open, the profanities you’ve been yelling suddenly run out, and your body freezes in place.

He tells you to get on the bed. You don’t comply. He steps over to you, grabs you by the cheeks, presses the gun’s barrel right against your temple and repeats: ”Get on the bed”. You don’t even get a chance to do as you're told before he takes you by the neck and shoves you down on the mattress. Still holding the weapon to your head, he straddles you and reaches over to the nightstand to dig through the drawer.

Knowing what is to come, you flail and make an attempt to snatch the gun from his hand. He slaps you across your face. The action stuns you for long enough for him to pull out the syringe from the drawer and jab the needle right into your neck. You convulse and whine for a moment before going completely slack under him. He closes his eyes and exhales.

Although you don’t get to see it due to being under whatever he has injected you with, his reaction to the ordeal is rough. He sits next to you on the bed, back turned to you, his face hidden in his hands. He’s sweating all over, his cheeks have gone pale, his legs are trembling. He can’t believe you almost got away with it. How many people saw you, he doesn’t know. He can only hope that your little stunt won’t bring irreversible stains to his image.

˗ˏˋ ★ 6. Emotions I: How do they show love? How do they attempt to make the darling love them?

As mentioned before, you come to find out pretty early on that Aventurine is a ridiculously materialistic person. Initially, you think his only way of showing love is through buying you stuff, which is admittedly a fair conclusion to come to. Oh, and he does compliment you pretty often, but the praises mostly sound more like barely disguised insults. He may tell you that you look pretty while looking down at you on the bed where one of your hands is tied to the frame, for example. It’s more belittling than anything.

After a couple of weeks pass, however, you will see that his love language ends up being more about touch than it is about gifts. It will start in very subtle ways like leading you through a hall with a hand slotted against the small of your back or discreetly fixing your hair for you, but it quickly evolves into activities that are borderline inappropriate to do in public. He’ll start kissing you out of nowhere, sneaking touches at your inner thighs, stuff like that. In addition, he will start cuddling you to sleep whenever the two of you share a bed (which is basically always except for the times he’s out all night). And clearly, at least a part of the reason for the aforementioned things is that they get a nice reaction out of you. You’ll become all bothered, all flustered. What, "he’s doing it on purpose"? No, no, he would never. You’re imagining it.

Being able to feel you is a big thing for him. It reassures him that you’re, in fact, a living and breathing person. He has some abandonment issues that stem from unnamed reasons (cough, his entire family dying, cough), so naturally, he wants nothing more than to make sure you’re healthy, well-fed and, most importantly, there. He can’t bear the idea of losing another person. That’s why, whenever he can, he’ll hug you, hold you, caress you, give you physical affection in amounts beyond anything you’ve ever wanted. He might become a bit whiny if you refuse his touches, telling you that come on, just for a bit and come here, let him smooch you. He doesn’t want to admit it, but you hold much more power over him in this sense than you could ever understand. Inside, he’s still an extremely sensitive soul.

If the chance presents itself, he also loves to do fun activities with you. If there’s a free slot in his packed schedule, he might take you to see sights, to eat at expensive restaurants, that kind of thing. It is, admittedly, a nice change from being caved up in a hotel room for the entire day. He won’t say it out loud, but he’s a bit desperate for you to be happy, so if you’ve been grumpy for a long period of time, the likelihood of him taking you out increases tremendously. Time to start sulking for no reason.

He often takes you to the Dreamscape, too, when he has the chance and the two of you are on the correct planet. It’s much more safe to do things there than it is to take you to places in real life since you can’t physically escape from him. Obviously, though, the same rules apply there as in the waking world: Don’t talk to people, do what he says, and so on.

Lastly, Aventurine does, in his mind, show you love by keeping you safe, even though it doesn’t appear that way to you. All the effort he puts into making sure that you’re not in harm’s way is immense, you know? This stuff costs a lot, making sure that nobody gets to hurt you. The word is out, there’s a rumour circulating about Aventurine of the Ten Stonehearts having a lover behind closed doors. Gossip like that places quite the target on your back, so he’s actually doing you a favour at this point. Though, it’s not hard to imagine how all of it looks from your point of view. You win some, you lose some, he thinks.

˗ˏˋ ★ 7. Emotions II: How do they deal with the darling’s emotions? How are outbursts handled? How do they attempt to comfort the darling?

You don’t think that Aventurine is capable of showing genuine emotion, at least anything close to sympathy. He can be happy, he can be angry, sure, but when it comes to you, you have never caught him sparing a single moment to wondering how you feel.

In reality, he has, though, more than you could imagine. His guard is just so high that he never ends up baring any more than tiny glimpses of his true self to you. It's much less risky that way, but it translates to him being pretty horrible at dealing with your sadness and comforting you.

If he catches you crying, sobbing on the bathroom floor (which is not very often since your usual reaction is lashing out in anger), he’s at a loss of what to do. At first, he genuinely thinks that you’re just trying to pull his strings, that all the tears are just some pathetic attempt at manipulating him, and because of that, he ends up just teasing you. He tells you that if you wanted something from him, if you wished to go outside, you could just tell him straight up; no need for all these theatrics. He will ruffle your hair, poke your forehead, treat the entire thing like it's a joke.

However, when you start blubbering about how you miss your old life, your friends, your family, your home, he comes to understand that perhaps this isn’t about manipulation anymore. That’s when he reaches an emotional block he didn’t even know he had. He has never really had to comfort anyone, at least not in a very long time. Suddenly, all of the chaff leaves him, the words he had so carefully planned disappear into thin air, and he’s left with the realization that you, his darling, are having a breakdown right in front of him and he doesn’t have a clue what to do.

You think he’s mocking you. There’s no other explanation for his behaviour, he must be poking fun at your distress. You're not even surprised at this point. So, through your sniffles, you scream at him to leave you the fuck alone.

He’s a bit taken aback by your sudden outburst. He's still in the middle of calculating his options, but now that you’re clearly starting to show a negative response, he knows he has to act quickly. Truthfully, he can’t bear it. He can’t bear it, seeing you in such a state feels like his heart is being torn in half. It’s a visceral sensation. Deep down, he realizes that it’s him that’s hurting you, that it’s all his fault that you are this way. His skull is about to split open from how two completely opposite sides of his psyche are contradicting each other, yanking him in different directions: One wants to keep you locked up and safe, and the other wants nothing more than for your tears to stop. It’s an impossible equation.

Ultimately, the only thing he’s able to muster is cautiously setting his hand over the crown of your head. There, he lets it rest without moving, just silently acknowledging your feelings. It’s one of the only times that you’ll get a genuine, emotional response from him. He doesn’t speak a word, he simply can’t find any, and this is also the first time you can recall that he doesn’t try to fill the void in his soul by talking your ear off. It’s a truly bizarre situation to be in, in every single aspect. You regret ever stepping foot on the same planet as this man.

Afterwards, when you’ve calmed down enough, he’ll be very quiet for the rest of the day. There’s no teasing, no cheeky remarks, nothing. He might spend an abnormal amount of time on his phone, tapping away on his laptop, taking care of ”work business” (he’s looking at an empty screen), and so on. He doesn’t want to admit how affected he is by your sadness.

When the night comes rolling around, instead of spooning you like usual when you go to bed, he turns you around in his hold and tugs your face under his chin. You might ask about it, you may complain that it’s an uncomfortable position, that you can't sleep like that, but he won’t budge. He just tells you to go to sleep and slips a secure, warm hand to your bare upper back under your pyjamas.

He stays up long after you have fallen asleep. He’s afraid that if he closes his eyes, he’ll be haunted by nightmares so tangible that he would rather not rest at all.

Even in the future, comforting you is one of those things that he doesn’t seem to get any better at, no matter how many times he has to do so. It’s always clumsy, always leaves him embarrassed at how little he’s able to do about your emotional distress. You obviously let him know about it, tell him how evil he is, how much you hate him, and truthfully speaking, it does hurt him when you do that. He just doesn’t know how to show it, and even if he did, he doubts he ever would. You would just use it against him, he thinks (you absolutely would).

˗ˏˋ ★ 8. Thing to exploit: What are the darling’s best chances at escaping? Are there things the darling can use to their advantage? How can the darling make things easier for themselves?

So there are a couple of actually viable things here. Your biggest obstacles are his wealth and, well, his luck, and those are two very prominent things to be concerned about. Still, you do have a decent chance at escaping from him.

He’s very particular about the people he allows to see you, but not so much so that there aren't any opportunities there. One of the people you will come to recognize is Jade, but she’s one you should not confide in. She won’t give a flying fuck about your situation. It’s going to be quite a cruel experience for you if you were to talk to her: She might pretend to listen to your troubles, nodding along and offering something close to sympathy, but when you’re done, she will give you a polite smile and let someone know that ”Aventurine’s plaything is acting up again”. That, and no matter what it is that you told her, she will absolutely snitch on you to Aventurine. Not a good idea.

On the other hand, if you ever manage to get into contact with Topaz, she will help you to the best of her ability. It’s a rare chance if you do since Aventurine is very aware of how soft her heart is, and that’s why he has made an effort to keep the two of you from meeting each other. Topaz might, for example, bribe the employees under Aventurine’s command to ignore your escape if you manage to pull one off. There isn’t much she can do about you being locked up, but if the opportunity presents itself, you have a better shot at fleeing than without her help.

Whatever comes after making it out of his clutches, though, is a bit trickier. The IPC has eyes everywhere, all across the universe. You would have to change your identity, your looks, your name, everything to truly be able to avoid being recaptured. You would need to be extremely careful, very clever, and truly, truly lucky to escape from him for good. That, or you need to get another powerful organization on your side. If you somehow manage to contact the Family, for example, they might extend their services to you. Be careful, though, because there’s a chance that if you get someone like, say, Sunday involved, the only things that may change are your location and your abductor.

Aside from getting help from other people, there’s one thing to take advantage of that you might not consider at first. It’s that, although being a man and in a decent shape, you could, in certain circumstances, be able to overpower him physically. You come to see it one time when he’s trying to cuddle you in the bed. You’re not having any of it, you're telling him to stop, but he just won’t give it up. So, mustering up all your power, you turn around in his grasp and manage to get on top of him, briefly being able to pin him down. You’re not sure if you’re just imagining it, but you swear that for a second, there is a fracture in his expression, an ”oh shit”-moment of sorts. He quickly composes himself, of course, grabbing you by the arms and throwing you off of him. However, he is a tiny bit shaken up by the strength you had in you.

So, if you manage to catch him by surprise, there’s a chance that you could escape via the classic means of beating the shit out of him. Especially if you have muscle, this might be the most realistic option for you.

When it comes to making things easier for yourself, the simple answer is just to entertain his whims. Talk to him, spend time with him, tell him what you like, get to know him. He might even spill secrets from his past to you if he trusts you enough. Something like that is quite a strong psychological weapon against him, so it’s recommended to get as much information out of him as possible.

˗ˏˋ ★ 9. Further notes: Is there anything that sets them apart from the other yanderes? What unique qualities do they possess?

Gambling. There’s so much gambling. Anything can be made into gambling. Everything is gambling.

No, but in actual fact, Aventurine uses gambling as a method of getting under your skin just as much as he does it for the thrill. He gets very cruel with it: He might tell you to come to him at a random moment, leaning his elbow against the table while he plays with something in his hand. Look at the coin, he tells you. Heads or tails? Go on, choose. If you guess wrong, he will send a few of his men to your home planet to kill your entire family.

The colour washes away from your face in a matter of seconds. Despite the ruthlessly brutal thing he's suggesting, he has to stifle a laugh. You stammer out that ”no, you’re not going to choose”, trying to act all brave and unbothered, but he can see the way beads of sweat rise on your forehead, the way your eyes start darting around the room. You’re not fooling anyone. He knows exactly how to get you scared.

So, he tells you that if you don’t pick, he’s just going to give his men the command regardless. You look up at him with pleading eyes, wordlessly asking for him not to make you do this. He merely shakes his head in response. After silently staring at his fingers for a good ten seconds with tears threatening to spill past your waterline, you whimper out a strained ”tails”.

He flicks the coin into the air, playing around with it, rolling it over the backs of his fingers. You follow his every movement in horror, eyes going up and down, left and right along with the item. Then, he lands the thing on his forearm.

It’s tails. You don’t even attempt to silence the sigh of relief that slips past your lips as you see the result. He can barely keep himself from chuckling. Of course it’s tails, that’s what he intended for it to be. He would never (okay, almost never) put so much effort into getting rid of people you hold dear, that would simply break your heart, but it’s fun to keep you on your toes. Prick.

Aside from the obvious tricks, Aventurine has very very subtle ways of manipulating you. His methods are so cruel but so miniscule at the same time that you can’t even tell if it’s actually on purpose. The two of you might be resting in his room, you’re lying on the bed with your back turned to him while he’s on his phone. There’s music playing on the stereos. The current song is one of Robin’s; it’s a popular one right now. Soon, though, after the last few notes, the melody fades into silence before the next track starts. However, the very second you hear the first few beats of it, your head rises off the pillow to look at him.

It’s a song you know. Not just any song, though: It’s an obscure track from some band that has less than a thousand listeners on the app. Everybody has at least that one really small artist on their playlist that nobody else has ever heard about, and this is one of those for you. You’re pretty certain that you’re one of the few people in the entire universe who have ever played this song. And now it’s echoing through the room. The phone connected to the stereos is his.

He looks up from his device with a questioning look, gazing at you with the same, serene smile as always. He quirks his brow. You know he’s doing it on purpose. Or at least, you think you know. What if he actually just knows this band? But there’s no way, what are the odds? Well, the odds are in his favour, is what they are. It’s a bet on your part, to decide whether you’re going to confront him about it or not.

You want to be mad at him, want to scream at him, but simultaneously, that would be admitting that his antics have gotten under your skin. Besides, he’s definitely going to pretend that he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. The best course of action is to drop the entire thing. Despite the seething rage nearly spilling over inside of you, you let your head slump back down on the pillow. He’s horrible. (Like half of the stuff he plays through the stereos is also horrendously generic white-girl music. Whether that's a good or a bad thing is up to you to decide.)

On the nicer end, there are times with him that are actually tolerable. You wouldn't actually use the word "nice" for it since it's still against your will, but on the days when his schedule is completely empty, he may spend the time by playing cards with you.

It's one of the rare times that you don't want to bash his head in. He may call for you, beckoning you over to the table where he's shuffling a deck in his hands. He may teach you a new game, or you could play one that you already know the rules to, but the activity is surprisingly pleasant regardless. He guides you through with minimal teasing, calmly telling you when you're about to make a dumb move, sharing a few strategies with you. You listen and watch as his fingers play with the cards, spinning them around, showcasing his best tricks to you.

He might even let you win some rounds. He will place a meaningless bet on the games you win, telling you that you'll get to decide what you're going to eat for dinner today if you beat him, and when you do, the happiness and pride on your face is enough to make him swallow his remarks. The entire ordeal would actually be incredibly wholesome if it wasn't for the lock on the door and the key in his pocket.

On a completely different side of things, a very questionable encounter you will get to experience while residing in Penacony is when, by chance, you run into none other than a man called Dr. Ratio. It’s on some trip to the Dreamscape, when Aventurine has to take care of work business again, that you get to meet him. The two of them know each other, you come to find, because Aventurine immediately strikes up a conversation with him despite the guy looking less than pleased about the coincidence.

They chat for a while, but then, the Doctor lays his eyes on you. You can nearly see how the gears start turning in his mind. His expression doesn’t really change, but you still watch him go through confusion, apprehension and disbelief all in the span of, like, five seconds.

He doesn’t engage. Maybe it’s because the two are sort of like colleagues — or, rather, they both work under the same organization, but the man simply turns his gaze away from your form, continuing his discussion with Aventurine.

The situation leaves you feeling a bit agitated. You didn’t exactly think that the man would help you, of course, but he could have at least acknowledged you. He could have given you a nod, anything. He might very well have risked his position if he were to do that, you know that, but something tells you that the real reason is that he just can’t be bothered.

NS-FW

˗ˏˋ ★ 10. General look: How does their sexuality manifest? What does sex mean to them? How horny are they?

It’s… a bit multifaceted.

On one hand, Aventurine is undeniably somewhat of a sexual person. There’s a flirty undertone to his behaviour, he doesn’t shy away from showing a bit of skin (the chest window in his shirt is very deliberate), and when it comes to his history, he has had multiple encounters in his past, most likely with all kinds of people. He isn’t particularly reserved regarding sex. And he likes it that way, too. It keeps people guessing, makes it easier to catch deals with certain types of individuals. He’s a very flashy person in general, so it should come as no surprise that it extends to his sexuality.

Then, on another side, there’s a bit of a disconnect between romance and sex in his brain. He has noticed that, to him, sex isn’t necessarily something he uses to show another person that he loves them, at least not until you came into the picture. It’s more about the rush he gets from it, and it feels good, so of course he enjoys it. It’s just not something that he actively looks for or needs.

When you appear in his life, the previous statement loses credibility. He’s obviously still his normal self (at least to a degree), a bit provocative, that’s his style, but for possibly the first time in his life, he notices that he’s actually craving another person in that way. As in, he has an urge to touch you, to feel you under his fingers, to make you feel nice. Before he goes to sleep, while you rest in his arms, unaware of everything that’s going through his mind, he starts imagining what it would be like to have you under him, your hands tied to the headboard, his fingers inside of you. He hopes that you’re already in deep enough sleep not to feel his bulge pressing up against your butt.

He begins entertaining the idea of having sex with you for real pretty early into your captivity. You’re obviously not very willing towards the notion, he knows, but he’s sure that you’ll warm up to him eventually. He has certain tools at his disposal that might end up changing your mind.

˗ˏˋ ★ 11. Limit: How long does it take for them to have the darling? What is the first time like? Do they care about the darling’s willingness?

Physically, Aventurine is not a violent person. Don’t get him wrong, he can absolutely use force if need be, but when it comes to you, he would rather not. It hinders him from reaching his objective, which is ultimately getting you to like him. Forcing you to do something like having sex with him would be barbaric, even to his standards. However, when it comes to his own needs, there are compromises he’s willing to make to get you where he wants you to be.

So, he’s not going to take you by force, no. He’s going to offer you something in return that you simply can’t refuse. Say, how would you feel about getting to see what your friends are up to these days? You haven’t been able to contact them, of course, and he won’t let you do that even now, but what would you think of checking their accounts? Are you curious? He suggests all of this while pulling what you recognize to be your old phone from inside of his breast pocket.

You’re not stupid. You know there’s a catch, and it doesn’t take long for him to air it out to you. If you want to see how your friends are faring, you’ll have to give him a kiss or two. Actually, you need to make out with him and let him eat you out. All of those. It’s not that big of a deal, really, he says. Instead, he insists that he's actually doing you a favour: You’ve been awfully irritable for the past few days, so maybe this could even cheer you up a bit. But you don’t have to, of course. ”It’s your choice”, he says with a tilt of his head and a smirk so detestable that you want to slap it right off his stupid face.

You stare at him with your mouth ajar, all the while he stands in front of you, one hand on his hip while the other is dangling your old phone in your face. He’s being unfair, he’s being so infuriatingly obnoxious that throwing a fit and having to take the syringe would probably be preferable to whatever he has in mind.

But still, the proposal manages to plant the question in your mind: How are your friends faring nowadays? What about your family? You haven’t seen their faces in what feels like ages. You stare at your reflection in the black screen of your phone, looking into your own, desperate eyes. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you, and at this point, as you give in to your emotions, you have no choice but to fall for it. It’s deplorable, really; the way you suck in a determined breath before letting him know that ”okay, you’ll do it” in a tone that’s less than enthusiastic. Your lack of excitement isn't exactly ideal, but he will gladly accept the result nonetheless.

So, he takes you by your hand. However, you immediately whisk it away from him. You tell him that holding his hand is not something you agreed to while wearing a tiny, smug smile. Admittedly, he is a bit irritated by the remark: He raises his brows at you, letting out a contemplative hum, but continues his advances nonetheless. With delicate motions, he lays you on the bed on your back before climbing on top of you with a blush dancing on his features. He leans in for a kiss.

You keep your lips firmly shut. ”Touché”, he thinks, rolling his eyes before using his fingers to pinch your nose shut. It works wonders, and soon enough he gets the chance to slide his tongue down your throat. You don't dare bite him.

His hands are all over you, sliding along your sides, feeling your breasts through your top, all the while he humps his clothed dick against your thigh. Then, his lips start trailing lower, lathering your neck in open-mouthed kisses. It feels like he’s trying to eat you alive, and when he starts unbuttoning your top, you’re quick push your hands against his chest. You attempt to shove him away and point out that whatever he’s doing was not agreed upon.

You’re being difficult on purpose again, he thinks. You nearly celebrate your victory when he gets off of you for a brief moment, but then he lets out a deep huff before reaching for his belt. You don’t really get a chance to struggle before he wraps the thing around your wrists, making quick work of your hands and tying them to the bed frame.

It's when the true weight of the situation dawns upon you, and instead of trying to make the ordeal exasperating for him, you start doing your best to kick him off of you for real. As he tries to catch your legs, your heel manages to land a hit on his abdomen. He lets out a pained oof through clenched teeth, but you only get to enjoy the reaction for a second. There’s a brief change in his pleasant expression, and in the next moment, he grabs both of your ankles and forces your lower body against your chest with his entire weight. He softly tuts at you before pressing his index finger against your lips. He doesn’t even need to speak his mind out loud — a nudge of his head towards the nightstand and a suggestive smirk is enough to shut you up.

He tells you to settle down and relax. It's obviously not going to actually do anything to calm you down, but he feels the need to sort of pretend that this is something you want and need. Moreover, he twists it in his mind that what he’s about to do to you is actually a positive thing. It's for your own good, so get over it.

You’re trying to fiddle with the belt around your hands to free yourself. He watches your efforts with an amused expression. You can try to fight it all you want, he made sure that the thing holds. So, while you’re busy trying to resist him, he hooks his fingers under the waistline of your clothes and pulls your bottoms down. You hiss at his actions, badmouthing him, throwing insults at him. That’s cute, he thinks. Not much you can do about it now, so you should just try to enjoy it, no?

You only get a mere moment to prepare yourself before he starts devouring your cunt like his life depends on it. He just goes for it. And, you come to find that he’s unfortunately incredibly good at it. He starts slowly, giving some teasing licks to your clit, just above your entrance. He's biting down on your inner thighs, pinching around your most sensitive areas, riling you up like no tomorrow. You try your best to close your legs, attempting to shove him off your bits, but he just grabs you by the hips and pulls you flush against his face.

He’s awful. He somehow seems to know just where to prod to get your insides feeling all hot. When he truly gets down to it, after the gentle warm-up is over, you come to find that he's shockingly adept at trying to pleasure you. Still, with some effort, you’re able to distance yourself from the situation. You let your mind wander, thinking about anything else, how the room looks, what you ate today... You zone out and do your best to ignore whatever is happening in your lower half.

Oh no, you must have gotten the wrong idea, he thinks. He pauses his actions, getting up and on top of you from between your thighs before gently caressing your cheek. ”You do know that we’re not going to stop until you come, right?” he asks you.

You can nearly see the hearts in his eyes, the simultaneously pitying and mocking smile on his lips. Your insides flip. You try to bark back at him, telling him that he’s being unjust, that this is not what you agreed upon, but he just shakes his head and lets you know that no, you’re not the one who makes the rules. It’s him. So get comfortable.

Deep inside, he’s a bit offended that your go-to would be trying not to feel anything when he’s clearly putting his heart and soul into getting you off. Instead of disheartening him, though, it only makes him go harder. So, do what you want, nothing is going to stop him from plunging two fingers into your warm cunt. It comes with zero warning, and to his delight, you let out a whiny shriek in surprise. Good thing that the soundproofing is excellent here.

˗ˏˋ ★ 12. Preferences: What is sex with them like? What sort of stuff are they into? What kind of kinks do they have?

Oh, he’s… a freak. When it comes to his preferences, he truly is a force to be reckoned with. There’s mildly kinky stuff that he’s into, and then there are things that he would get a lot of looks for if he were to ever say them out loud. And, (un)fortunately for you, you’ll come to find out about the whole spectrum of his preferences.

There’s very little that he isn’t open to at least trying. He will lowkey go through your old phone's search history and find out all about what you’re secretly into. Nothing like that is off-limits to him. Besides, he will learn to know you even better that way! He doesn’t really understand why you’re so horribly self-conscious about something like this. It’s not like he’ll use that to his advantage or anything.

Bondage

He likes restricting your movements. The degree of it depends: Sometimes he might be satisfied with just tying your hands together, other times it’s your entire body. He’ll bind your calves against the back of your thighs, your whole arms behind your back — he’ll wrap you up like a nice little gift. Which you kind of are, actually; to him, anyway.

He tends to appreciate the aesthetic things in life, so he likes playing around with rope in the bedroom in that sense too. He’s quite skilled with it as well, he knows how to tie nice patterns around your chest, your legs, all of it. He might even install a hook in the ceiling so your entire body can hang in the air if he’s feeling extra freaky. It’s also easier to get through with the act those times, obviously, since you can’t do much struggling when you’re barely even able to wiggle your fingers.

He can basically do what he pleases with you when you’re bound. He can use you however he likes, he can finger you, eat you out, get his dick wet, stick a finger in your ass, whatever he’s feeling like. It oftentimes comes with blindfolding or gagging you, too. He’s a big fan of ball gags in particular: It makes you unable to spit vile words at him, and besides, you look super cute with it, he thinks. Covering your eyes makes you at least twice as receptive, he finds. You twitch more often, shiver, try to yank on the ropes, cry, even. He likes to see you struggle; it gives him an unexplainable, powerful feeling.

Toys, toys, even more toys, and overstimulation

Of course he likes using toys in the bedroom. What is there not to like? They spice things up, make certain things easier, and most importantly, they get you going faster than his hands or mouth ever could. And no, that’s not an insult to him, of course, he knows how to pick you apart with just what he was blessed with, but toys bring excitement. He can’t get the same effect with his hands as he can with a vibrator.

That being said, he really is a big fan of vibes, namely. Small, big, bullet, wand, gentle, industrial level, he’s all for them. He loves how your body reacts to them, especially if it’s particularly visceral.

One of his go-to foreplays is blindfolding you and tying you down like usual, but there's a bit of a twist. You’re expecting him to go down on you, stick his fingers in, whatever it is that he commonly does, but then a whirring sound fills the room. You barely get the chance to react before a vibrator is pressed right against your clit. You jerk back, naturally — the sensation is beyond intense, the thing is pressing directly on one of your most sensitive spots — but he just shushes you and follows your movements with the device. You can't get away. No matter how you struggle, the vibe is not coming off your cunt until you come on it, he lets you know, all in the infuriatingly mocking tone he uses on you when he knows you can’t clap back.

And he keeps his promise, too, and more. When you inevitably do cream on the thing, he doesn’t move it away or turn it off. You start flailing around, of course, you just came and you’re sensitive, but he doesn’t make an effort to stop. Go on, try to get him off of you — he won’t let you. He probably says something snarky like ”oops, my hand slipped”, all the while he continues tormenting you. His free hand slides next to the vibrator’s head, and he uses two fingers to spread your folds further apart. The action brings your clit out further, and he presses the vibrator even flusher against your cunt, aligning it so that it rests directly on your pearl. He notes that it gets an exquisite reaction out of you.

He keeps going, only stopping when you’ve been through a whole lot of orgasms back-to-back, and your entire lower half is almost completely numb. You lost your will to fight back somewhere in the middle, there’s drool on your cheek, your eyes are barely staying open, and most wonderfully, your cunt is fluttering and twitching around nothing. Delectable, he thinks. You really don’t understand what you do to him. It’s a good thing he snatched you away when he did because some other man would surely have taken advantage of you soon enough.

Aside from vibrators, he likes nipple clamps. You, however, tend to hate those the most because of how easy it is for him to tug on the chain that connects them, and you’re already whining. They’re a nice addition to your sessions. A little pinch never hurt anyone.

Butt plugs, dildos, anal beads, whatever it is, he probably has them for you in various sizes and colours. Aside from your cunt, he does like playing around with your ass a lot, so be prepared to get a vibrator shoved up there as well. He usually starts fiddling with the rear hole while you're already under a ton of stimulation from other areas, too, so when you're done, none of your places will have been left untouched. He has very little qualms when it comes to getting you off with different tools.

He will absolutely make you wear a plug to a meeting or an event the two of you attend, too. You’re obviously heavily against the idea, the last thing you want is for others to know what a freak you’re forced to be with, but there’s no changing his mind. Besides, it’s in private when the magic really happens. The idea of you having the toy inside you had him hot and bothered all evening, so when you finally return to his room, he will be insatiable. He will stuff both of your holes full of whatever things he happens to prefer that day, make you walk around the room on a leash with the clamps on your nipples, a vibrator against your cunt, all that stuff. And he won't stop until your slick is dripping down your thighs. It never gets any better.

Going on a tangent from the overstim, edging isn't really Aventurine's thing when it comes to you. Yeah, he might sometimes partake in it, getting you as close to coming as he possibly can without tipping you over the edge before pulling away, but he can never keep it up for long. He gets the kicks out of seeing you come, not almost come. Even if he tried to do it as a punishment, he doesn't think he could actually go through with it for that very reason. Ruined orgasms are another thing, those he might do, but only because of the overstim that follows right after.

Banging you in his boss form

Did you think he would not? No, did you seriously think he wouldn’t use the stone in the bedroom? Of course he would. Having this rare of a tool in his hands would go to waste if he were not to take advantage of it in the sheets at least once.

You don’t agree with the notion in the slightest, he comes to find. You’re straddling one of his thighs while he rests back on the couch, very clearly taking in the sight of you and enjoying the show. The monstrosity isn’t even that much bigger than his usual stature, but oh, he can see it in your eyes how wary you are of him in this form. Your brows are knitted together, and you visibly flinch when he raises his hand to move a strand of your hair off your forehead with one of his talons. The way the tips of his claws brush against your cheek, he shudders at the view.

Come on, then, hop on. Yeah, come on, it’s not even that much different to his actual one. Yeah, he knows, the dick is a strange colour now, and it has a few ribs, but the size is just about the same, and you have taken him before. What are you waiting for?

He bounces his thigh up and down a few times, encouraging you to properly climb into his lap and sink onto his cock. Your bare cunt rubs against his pant leg as he does, and you have to hold back a hiss. Aside from his appearance changing drastically, it seems that his strength has received a considerable boost as well. It wouldn't be wise to make him mad in this form, you admit, so best not to have him wait for too long.

You feel his nails caressing along your spine as you prop yourself on his hips. He’s letting you feel the subtle threat that comes with his touch, his fingers are tapping rhythmically against the bone under your skin, telling you to hurry up if you don’t want him to take the initiative.

You bite into your bottom lip as you feel his cock slide into you bit by bit. You feel every single bump, every single ridge as the thing breaches your walls. He throws his head back in satisfaction, exhaling deeply. He can feel the way your cunt constricts around him, obviously not pleased with the intrusion. Your breaths become ragged as you struggle to take him, your hips are subtly trying to nudge higher and off his junk. He brings his hand down on your thigh, gently pushing you back down. You curse at him in response, but he only shakes his head. You can’t tell what his expression looks like, the mask prevents you from seeing his face, but you would bet your entire life on it being a condescending smirk.

He starts heaving you up and down on his dick. You yelp, using more force to try and get yourself off of him, but there’s no budging him. Instead, he removes his hand from your thigh and slips it in between your legs. His fingers prod around for a little until they find your clit, and he begins rolling the pearl in between his nails. He’s being careful not to poke anything with the sharp edges, of course, and judging from how you go tense and your cheeks flush, he’s doing a good job. You should really be grateful that he isn’t sticking it in your other hole, you know. He’s showing you a lot of grace here, really.

… among other things

As stated before, he has very little restrictions when it comes to sexuality. There are very few things that he is completely opposed to doing, and similarly, there aren’t many things that he hasn’t already tried. In no particular order, more of his favourites include eating your ass, putting a collar on you, tickling you, dressing you up in horrendously humiliating outfits, even gunplay… The list goes on and on and on. However, all of the mentioned things have one thing in common: The reactions he gets out of you are entertaining beyond words.

That, and he’s a big fucking fan of talking to you throughout the activities. Whether he’s in between your legs or dick-deep inside of you, he can’t close his mouth for the love of him. Every chance he gets, he speaks out, praising you, teasing you, degrading you, yap-yap-yap-yap-yap. He says things like "come on, you're taking it so well", "you're so cute when you try to fight it", "it's not going anywhere, you're just gonna have to take it" and "stupid little thing, can't even take this much?". It’s like he constantly has a knife right against his throat that will slit his artery if he stops talking even for a second.

Oh, and he gets really descriptive about his musings. He might let you know what your cunt looks like to him in very precise detail. You wish the one wearing a gag was him and not you. As the cherry on top, he also likes to moan very loudly and right in your ear, even when he's not actually receiving any physical pleasure himself. He tends to mock the sounds that you let out, singing high-pitched whines against your cheek and chuckling right after. God, you wish the chandelier would drop on his ass.

And he gets so damn mean with it. He will belittle you to his heart's content, until your pretty face is adorned by tears, until you're begging for him to just stop. That's when he knows he has you exactly where he wants you: Nice and obedient, and most importantly, so fucked-out that you can barely get a coherent word out. He could bust right then and there with zero stimulation.

One of the most atrocious things he makes you go through is dressing you up in one of those bunny outfits. You know the one, a leather leotard and thigh-highs that barely covers your bits (plus a bullet vibe in your underwear, obviously). That alone would be terrible enough, but in addition, he takes you to some obscure casino while you're wearing the outfit. There’s girls dressed similar to you everywhere, entertaining the guests, but you stay firmly slotted in his lap while he plays roulette and empties the entire table. In his pocket, he holds the remote to the device in you, and obviously, he’s not going to let you catch a break the entire evening. (He will also totally place you as a bet on some gamble. He’s always going to win, of course, but the brief look of terror on your face is admittedly very funny to him.)

˗ˏˋ ★ 13. Punishment: What do their sexual punishments look like? What methods do they prefer?

Sexual punishments are actually a fairly common thing with Aventurine since it’s both exciting to him and effective in keeping you in line.

Out of all of the things he could do to you, he has one singular favourite when it comes to getting a point across, and it’s relentless, merciless overstimulation. You thought the regular sessions were bad? Be prepared to experience the torture at a degree that’s at least tenfold as bad.

If you’ve been misbehaving or being generally difficult, he might just load you up with toys and leave you like that for the entire night. See, it is handy that he has multiple beds available. He can’t have a good night’s sleep if there’s a struggling and moaning person right next to him in the sheets.

You know exactly when you’ve crossed the line between mild consequences and a night in agony. It’s that one distinct look that he gives you, his eyes are the slightest bit squinted, and he raises his brows, urging you to "go on". At that point, you stop whatever it is that you got in trouble for, shaking your head and trying to make up an excuse to get yourself out of the situation, but it’s way too late for that now. In a heartbeat, he has you down on the bed, thrashing around, but it does very little to stop him from chaining you down. ”You brought this upon yourself”, he tells you as he starts digging for the tools in the box under the bed.

He shoves beads in your ass, a generously sized dildo in your cunt, and he finishes the piece with a wand right against your clit. He turns the thing on at maximum setting. There’s no slow build-up like usual, he doesn’t warm you up in any way, it’s from zero to a hundred in a split second. You start screaming at him, telling him to turn it off, to get it off of you, but there’s only so many words that you can get out before he shoves a gag in your mouth.

You’re going to suffer through your punishment like a good girl, he lets you know. There’s no getting out of it, and you can be prepared for at least a good few hours of relentless stimulation. It might be for as long as he’s out on business, it might be overnight, you never know. Not being certain on how far he’s going to take it is a part of the fun, obviously. You’re under his mercy, and that if anything will get you behaving.

It’s also nice how obedient you are afterwards. When he finally gets the toys out of you and unties the bindings, you can barely move. He tells you to apologize to him for whatever you did, and in fear of him continuing the torment, you mumble out a barely coherent ”sorry”. It’s that easy.

Or, he might spank you. This is only when he actually has time to reprimand you, which isn’t that often, but when he does, you despise it. He seems to get even more out of it than the usual overstim hell. Spanking is his go-to if your offence isn’t one that he’s actually that mad about, like trying (and failing) to unlock his phone, for example.

Maybe he catches you red-handed, your fingers still tapping against the screen. Quickly, you set the thing down as if that would get you out of whatever is going to follow. It’s kind of adorable, really, how your eyes go wide like you were just caught digging through a cookie jar. He just tilts his head in curiosity, giving you a soft smirk before telling you to get on his lap.

It doesn’t matter if you put up a scuffle, you’re going to end up lying down on your stomach, chest pressed against his thighs. He uses one hand to keep your arms behind your back while the other one yanks your bottom down. Then he starts landing open-palm hits on your rear. The shrieks you let out are nothing short of exhilarating to him. It’s not even a minute into the act that his clothed dick starts pressing up against your side. It’s very likely that he’ll first switch to slapping your cunt before starting to finger you instead. Whether you like it or not, stimulation down there, no matter what kind, gets you aroused, and he’s pleased to find that you’re already wet for him. He makes sure to let you know that, too, of course.

˗ˏˋ ★ 14. Aftermath: What does their aftercare look like? Is there any?

Aventurine hasn’t done his job right if he can still make out your words after he’s done. Sex with him is obviously incredibly intense from your perspective, so your will to object to his advances afterwards is in the negatives. You undeniably require some attention in the aftermath since you’re barely able to lift a finger in your hazy, post-orgasm state. Plus, he knows the significance of taking care of one's partner after a rough time, even if the act itself is terribly twisted in this context.

He usually starts the aftercare by caressing your face, gently coaxing you out of your delirious state. It’s grossly similar to what a real lover would do: It’s soft and mindful, and most noticeably, it’s a complete contrast to what has gone down just mere moments ago. The next step, if needed, is to rid you of the implements he has utilized that time. He pulls the toys out of you, pinches the clamps off your nipples, unties your arms, slides the blindfold aside. He coos at you while at it, telling you how well you did, how good you were for him. You don’t have the spirit in you to let him know just what’s going on in your mind.

After the imperative part, he usually either takes you to the bath or just goes straight to snuggling your spent body. The latter is the more likely outcome since you tend to flake out quickly after he's done. It’s only the rarest of times that you actually muster up enough willpower to resist his embrace. He’ll be a bit displeased about it if you do, but more often than not, you can’t keep it up for long anyway, so it's not that big of a hassle.

Aftercare, for him, is the most intimate part of the whole act. It’s when he can truly, even if it’s only a glimpse, show you his true emotions. He can get awfully sentimental in these moments, too. He’s very responsive to anything you might ask or wonder about, his job, his colleagues, even his past if the stars have aligned. These are also moments when you can use his lowered guard to your advantage. Get that info.

˗ˏˋ ★ 15. Further notes: Is there anything that sets them apart from the other yanderes sex-wise? Are there any unique aspects to them?

The… The gambling continues in the bedroom. It’s no joke.

It’s, like, 30% of his entire personality, so why would he not include it in the sex? You think it’s beyond ridiculous, you let him know that he could perhaps consider using the brain cells that the Aeons have blessed him with, but no. You are going to gamble in the bedroom.

Think of it like this: Pure chance gets to settle what you’re going to do that time. Look, the coin will decide whether it’s going to be his fingers or mouth, and the number on the die determines the number of rounds. And no, you’re not going to get out of this one, either. Don’t you think it’s kind of fun, too? You’re throwing your bodies in the game, what could be more thrilling than that? Or, how about this one: The coin dictates if it will be the plug or the wand, and the dice will tell you the setting. Exciting, no? So, heads or tails? ”Fuck off”? Hey, that wasn’t one of the options.

Moreover, Aventurine, perhaps a bit unexpectedly, isn’t that big of a fan of receiving. It’s a bit of a complicated matter to put into words, but from the psychological viewpoint, being on the receiving end of sexual activities does very little for him. He doesn’t know why that is, exactly. He’s aware that his head is a bit fucked up in a couple of places, but that’s where it ends. It’s not like he won’t occasionally end up having you suck on his dick or similar, but he won’t actively seek it from you. He would much rather observe how each of your barriers collapse one by one under his prying touch. Dicking you down is also more about you than it is about him, and he doesn't necessarily have to come each time himself.

The exception to this is that if you, in the very implausible scenario that it occurs, voluntarily offer yourself to him. If you, out of your own volition, come up to him and inform him that you would like to give him head, he will unquestionably agree to it. He doesn’t even let himself consider if what you’re doing is just a manipulation tactic, simply because he’s so overjoyed by it. He won’t show it, of course — he’ll act all pompous, the usual routine, but inside, he can barely contain his elation. Of course, you’re only doing this to get something out of him, but oh well. He might as well enjoy it.

One more peculiar thing about him is that, no matter what you do, he will never actually hurt you during sex. It doesn’t matter if he’s punishing you, for a serious offence, even, he will (almost) never slap you around beyond your butt or draw blood or anything like that. He just can’t get himself to even think of doing those things to you. There will be threats, sure, those keep you pliant, but you can be certain that you’ll never be hurt physically aside from what’s strictly essential. Your nerve endings in a certain few places may very well be fried, but never anything more severe.

A/N

This was a bit of a tricky write in the sense that Aventurine’s character has an incredibly rough backstory. Don’t get me wrong, obviously the topics at hand in this writing are equally as heavy in the real world, but the difference is that it’s meant to be horny content here. Aventurine’s lore isn’t meant to be hornied at all, at least not in my eyes, so avoiding those tones brought some difficulty. I sometimes find it hard to walk the line between the two moods.

That being said, I decided not to touch on the topic of his past too much for this reason. Above all, these are fictional characters we’re dealing with, and technically I could write almost whatever the fuck I want, but this is where my ethics stand. I hope you had a good read regardless!

(Off-topic but I can't believe I had to do research on gambling out of all things to write this piece. What a ride.)

Extra Special A/N

I got an inquiry if I could tag people when dropping a new profile. So, I present to you, my one-person taglist ⋆｡°✩

@yourfavouritecitizen

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marauder-misprint · 3 months ago

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Hiii, I absolutely love your work specially the Sirius Black x Slytherin!reader ones✨️

If you have time and if you liked the idea, I want to suggest another sirius x Slytherin!reader where they are in their sixth or seventh year and reader is a pure blood and her family is a member of 28 sacred and stuff AND her parents are having this ceremony and all other pure bloods are invited. This kind of ceremonies are a good place for families to introduce their children to other pure blood kids (in this case since it's reader's family's ceremony people would try to have her notice their sons)

Also I LOVE sirius and reader banter and playful arguments. Sirius very obviously likes reader but asking reader out means making his parents proud and he hates that. But then again he likes her so much :((

So one day they argue and reader tells him that he needs to get his shit together and she's not gonna tolerate this situationship anymore. She tells him about the ceremony and how there will be families who'd love to get their sons with reader so if Sirius actually cares about her, he couldn'tat least try and pretend to enjoy the ceremony for once and attend. (I WANT SIRIUS HUMBLED AND PUT IN HIS PLACE SO BAD CAN U TELL🤭)

Sirius obviously hates this kind of gatherings and wouldn't usually go. But if it means he will have a shot with reader he would consider going.(ALSO JEALOUS SIRIUS?? PLEASEÈ I WANT THAT)

so yea he ends up going all dressed up, I'm talking hair sleeked black and tuxedo and stuff. And reader's like holy shit you could have looked this hot this whole time and you settel for a ripped band t-shirt????

(Happy ending)

anyways I hope it didn't sound weird and I wish you the bests thank you so much💕💞💓

Hi! Omg this request! ❤︎ I've been sat. The ceremony you're talking about made be think of debutante balls and I highkey based it off of Gilmore Girls, although adjusted to fit to just one girl. Reader is the star of the night.

Thank you for the request and I hope you enjoy ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

'Put your money where your mouth is'

Sirius Black x Slytherin!reader

7.2k words

cw: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, sacred 28 pureblood type stuff, sirius has commitment issues

What you had with Sirius was complicated at best. Mostly because there was nothing officially with him. His tendency to come back to you time and time again, however, would say otherwise. Not that you were any less to blame, always letting him back in when you knew he would run if things started to become anything remotely serious. Were you frustrated with his inability to commit? Yes. Was there anything you could do to change your situation? You didn’t think so.

It was sad, you thought. You really were quite fond of him and it seemed that he liked you a lot. Your mother informed you recently that your debutante ball was scheduled for Christmas break. It was an event that would draw other members of the Sacred 28 along with few other prominent pure blood families, the ones that didn’t make the list for unknown reasons. The Blacks would be invited of course, likely bringing Regulus as he was an eligible bachelor. And you liked Regulus. You really did. He just isn’t Sirius.

You’d been to Sacred 28 balls before. You’d been to teas and socials. It wasn’t like this would be the first time you attended an event, or met with others of your social standing. Your debutante ball marked that you had reached an age where your parents, and you if your parents took your opinion into consideration, started looking for your future betrothed. These balls were notorious for being boring for the girl, paraded around and introduced into every male approximately your age. Attending them as a guest wasn’t bad. There was always good food and drinks, sometimes the music wasn’t horrible.

So, you aren’t really looking forward to going home for Christmas. After receiving the letter from your mother, you complained about it. Loudly. To the faces of other members of Sacred 28 families, people who would be attending this ball.

“Be funny to have you introduced to me,” Evan smirks, sitting across from you at breakfast. “Like I don’t already know your bra size.”

Right. Truth or Dare in the Slytherin Common Room earlier this semester.

“As if one ball over break wasn’t bad enough!” you whine.

There would also be a ball on Christmas Eve, completely separate from your debutante ball. You usually liked the Christmas Eve ball – the hall would be beautifully decorated with the best desserts around and the adults usually drank themselves into oblivion so the kids were able to get their hands on the harder stuff as well. You just aren’t sure if you’ll be in the mood for it after all of the fittings, lessons and meetings you’ll have to attend before your ball.

“At least you already know most of who’ll be there,” Pandora says, trying to get you to look on the bright side. “Junior, Regulus, Evan, Avery, the Prewett twins, Travers…”

“Abbott, Fawley, Macmillan, Ollivander, Shacklebolt should be there too,” Priscilla Parkinson adds.

“Wow, members of the Sacred 28 will be there? Crazy,” you say sarcastically.

“Just trying to be helpful…” Priscilla mumbles, returning to her breakfast.

“You two are just lucky you have later birthdays or you’d be having your balls over break too,” you say with a frown.

“You’ll make sure the food is dece, yeah?” Barty asks from next to Evan. “If I have to listen to Father go on about how good your family is, I want to have a good dinner.”

“Depending on how much Mother lets me help plan… I’ll do my best,” you sigh.

Your mood is soured for the day, and possibly the week if you linger too long on the idea of the ball. In a perfect world, Sirius wouldn’t have run away from his family over the summer and he’d be attending the ball with them. And in a better world, you would’ve heard from Sirius himself that he was no longer at Grimmauld Place, rather than from Regulus. The younger Black ranted about it for a while on the train to Hogwarts.

“Merlin, this thing is over a month away. No point in being bothered by it now,” Dorcas says as you’re still fuming by lunch.

“I was hoping my parents would opt out of this stupid tradition,” you reply with an eye roll. “I’m allowed to be upset for the day.”

“Fine, ruin your own mood.”

“She has a point,” Avery says, sitting down next to you. “If any of our families were going to drift, it’d be her parents.”

You smack his shoulder. “Don’t be rude.”

“I’m agreeing with you!”

“Rudely.”

“Whatever. Just don’t be mad when your parents pick me.”

You scoff and turn your body away from Avery. As you do, Regulus takes the seat you’re turning toward. He raises his eyebrows at you but doesn’t say anything. You subtly shake your head and he gives you a single nod. That’s the thing with Regulus, he doesn’t need you to voice everything to understand you. Plus, you know that he’s not looking forward to the idea of being dragged to another ball. He’d skip the Christmas Eve ball too, if only his parents would let him.

As you told Dorcas, you only let the idea of your debutante ball linger in your mind for the day. You let it slip your mind. It is a few months away and you have other things to put your energy toward. Your lessons. And absolutely destroying everyone in Gobbstones. But mainly your lessons and the endless amount of studying you have to do for them. It has you holed up in the library every day after your classes are done.

“Most girls are prettier when they smile,” a familiar voice says behind you. “But you make frowning work.”

“Sirius,” you say with a steady voice.

You don’t look up from your homework as Sirius takes the seat next to you.

“What’s got you frowning all day long, love?” Sirius asks, leaning on the table.

Yes, you are frowning. As much as you try to not think about it, the ball lingers in the back corner of your mind. But you don’t see why you can’t be frowning while you work on homework. It’s not like it’s the most enjoyable activity.

“Where’s the rest of your entourage? You rarely make an appearance in the library without them,” you say, avoiding his question. You know he hates Sacred 28 events so why would you bother talking about the ball with him?

“You’re here. Isn’t that reason enough?”

You look up from your book to roll your eyes at him. “Oh, so you have time for me again?”

“I’d be an idiot not to.”

“You’re an idiot quite often then.”

“I had to… sort some things out. But I’m yours now if you want me.”

You hate that you do want him. You hate the way he makes you feel, how easy it is to smile around him, how pretty he is, how funny he is. You would say that you hate him, but it’s the opposite.

“Do you know why I’m still taking Herbology?” you ask, looking back at your assignment.

His facial features scrunch together in confusion.

“No? I never had a greenthumb so I dropped it.”

“How come I didn’t have the good sense to do the same?”

He leans forward to slide your assignment toward him. He scans it and smiles.

“Lucky for you, Peter and Remus are in your class,” Sirius says.

“Yeah, I know that.”

“And they’ve done this assignment.”

You raise your eyebrows as Sirius slides the parchment back your way.

“I remember which book they used. Come with me to get it?”

You nod. Then you’re following Sirius past rows of bookshelves until he turns into one of the aisles. He goes almost to the end of the aisle, scanning the titles on the shelves until he finds a red book with gold embossing.

“This is it,” he says, gently waving the book.

You go to take the book from him but he immediately holds it out of reach. You glare at him and he smirks at you. You groan. You know what he wants and you know that you really shouldn’t cave this easily, but you do. You lean forward and place what was meant to be a quick kiss on his lips. But as soon as your lips touch his, his free arm is wrapped around your waist and holding you close to him. You don’t fight him.

Soon enough, the book is laid down on a shelf and your back is pressed against the bookshelf. You and Sirius are practically entwined with each other. It is so easy to fall into old habits with him. His hands know every curve of your body, just as yours know his.

It’s not until a prefect clears their throat at the end of the aisle that you and Sirius break apart. Sirius grins down at you as you hide your face in his shoulder. It isn’t the most compromising position you’ve been caught in with him, and certainly not the most embarrassing place to be caught. After a moment, you turn to grab the book he grabbed for you and slip out from under his arms which were still caging you in.

“Thanks for the book, Sirius,” you say, walking away.

He follows you back to your table, which you honestly aren’t expecting. Neither of you say anything for a while. You need to get this assignment done and Sirius is apparently content with watching you work. At one point, some of your hair falls in your face and he doesn’t hesitate to tuck it behind your ear for you. You give him a soft smile before returning your focus to the book in front of you.

I’m yours if you want me. Maybe he’s genuine this time. You know you shouldn’t get your hopes up. But when he’s looking at you like this, with such softness and adoration, you can’t help it. You’re practically putty in his hands.

For the next two weeks, you and Sirius are constantly finding each other. You walk from class to class with his arm around your shoulders. He sits with you in the library. You sit with him at James’ quidditch practices. And then there’s all the time you spend in various alcoves around the school, tangled up in each other.

“Someone’s back with her favorite Gryffindor,” Pandora says as you walk with her to Divination.

You roll your eyes. Sirius doesn’t take Divination so it’s just you and Pandora on the long walk. He had given you a forehead kiss before he went off to Ancient Runes.

“It’s not official or anything,” you say dryly.

“It never is,” she sings. She’s a few steps ahead of you when she stops and turns back to face you. “When are you going to make it official?”

“Sirius doesn’t do official,” you sigh.

“Then why bother?”

“Because I like him.”

You push past Pandora to get to the rope ladder. You hear her hum and follow you up the ladder. The classroom smells strongly of incense, a faint smoke fogging the air. You sigh deeply as you and Pandora gather around a crystal ball.

“Crystal-gazing again?” you ask in a hushed voice.

“Professor Whittle likes to make sure we haven’t lost our sight.”

“Not sure I’ve ever had any…”

“And yet, you’re taking N.E.W.T. Divination.”

“Easy O. What can I say?”

Pandora reaches to move the crystal ball on your table closer to her.

“Maybe you’ll see if your boy is in your future.”

“Class, remember to keep your minds open,” Professor Whittle tells the class loudly, apparently having heard Pandora’s comment. “If you are seeking a specific answer, it won’t come to you.”

When it’s your turn to gaze into the crystal ball, you try to clear your mind. Maybe the smoke would take shape for once. Maybe you would see something, a distinct curl, anything. As the smoke shifts inside the ball, you sigh. Nothing. You didn’t expect to actually see anything, but sometimes it was nice to hope. You push the ball back into the center of the table and grab your parchment and quill.

“You just wouldn’t believe it, Dora,” you say with faux-enthusiasm. “I saw signs of stress and worry in there. I fear Professor Slughorn may it out for us. At least two feet of an essay in our near future.”

“No!” she groans with a knowing smile. You have your usual go-to’s for when you don’t see anything.

After dinner, you and Sirius meet up in an alcove on the fifth floor. He comes in ranting about something he overheard Mulciber say. You listen, not really having anything to say on the topic. Mulciber wasn’t your favorite of the people in your house and it really seemed like Sirius was covering all of the bases in his rant. When he’s done, he cups your face and looks into your eyes.

“But enough about that bastard, I got you right here.” He gives you a quick peck. “How was your day, love?”

“Crystal-gazing in Divination,” you say airily. “Looking into the great beyond!” You start giggling, still trying to talk. “Predicted that Slughorn would be giving us a long ass essay soon.”

“Hmm, no doubt. He likes to do that when we start a new unit.”

“And the new unit starts on Friday.”

“You’re brilliant. I’m sure Whittle will be singing about your prophecy come Monday.”

“Sure she will. But besides Mulciber, rest of your day was good?”

Sirius nods, kissing your cheek. “And getting better. With my favorite person, you know.”

You raise your eyebrows and cross your arms.

“I’m your favorite person, am I?”

“Ain’t that what I just said.”

“Put your money where your mouth is then, Sirius.”

He didn’t say anything, only tilting his head in confusion.

“Take me on a real fucking date. Ask me out. Let’s do something other than talk and snog.”

“Oh.” The short response tells you everything you need to know. You groan and turn away from Sirius. “I-I’m sorry.”

The warmth of Sirius and the magnetized air that follows him like a cloud of smoke disappear. You’re left alone in the alcove. Alone again. You feel silly for having let him in, for thinking that maybe he’d stay for once and be more than an almost. You sigh heavily when you turn back around. It feels like the portraits that line the corridors of Hogwarts judge you as you walk back to the Slytherin Common Room, taking the longest route you could.

You are tired of it. Tired of somehow not being enough for him, despite him saying that you’re his favorite person, that he’s yours if you want him. Because he’s not yours. He won’t be yours. It’s infuriating and you want to do something about it. You want to hit him where it hurts, make him feel how you feel every time he walks away from you.

Priscilla, Pandora and Dorcas exchange worried looks when you enter the common room with a dead-to-the-world look on your face. They all know where you just came from, and they know that you usually wouldn’t be back this early.

“Something happened,” Priscilla whispers as you disappear up the stairs to the girls’ dorms.

“Course something did. It’s Sirius,” Dorcas says.

“Yeah, but that look?”

“She’s pissed,” Pandora says. “Maybe this time it’s done done.”

As you lay in bed, you formulate your plan. You know there’s going to be collateral damage. There has to be in order for your message to really hit Sirius. You don’t want to have to tell anyone about your plan; that ensures that all reactions will be genuine. If you told someone about it, you might have been able to lessen the collateral damage. You could’ve asked Barty or Evan or Regulus for help. No. You wouldn’t drag them into this. You wouldn’t risk hurting them.

You wait for the perfect moment. You need the key players to be in place. It takes a few days, which was to be expected. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you linger near the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. You know you look tense as you constantly scan the staircases and walkways. You see Sirius two flights of stairs away from you, walking with the rest of the Marauders.

Go time.

You walk up to Avery. He’s standing with all of his friends, people you don’t usually talk to. But Avery, being from the Sacred 28, is the exception. He says your name once you’re standing in front of him.

“You’re pretty certain my parents will love you?” you ask with a subtle tilt of your head.

He chuckles and nudges Mulciber with his elbow. “You know it. I can charm when I need to.”

You gag internally. You can’t let it show, not if you want this to work. You listen intently for the footsteps of four rowdy Gryffindors.

“Then, I think we should start practicing,” you say, taking a step closer to him.

You put your hands on his shoulders and kiss him. It’s no sweet little peck. It’s not gentle. It’s forceful and rough, which is how you assumed Avery likes it. And you get confirmation when his hands grip your hips firmly. He gives them a squeeze as he returns the favor with the same amount of aggression.

The boys around you wolf whistle and cheer. That is the reaction you were looking for from them, something to bring attention to you. Then you hear some kind of grumbling and heavier footsteps pass by. You smirk into the kiss. The Gryffindors sounded upset.

You wait for another moment or two before stepping back from Avery. He scans you up and down with hungry eyes.

“Good luck impressing my parents,” you say sweetly, giving him a wink.

As you walk away from him, you can feel Priscilla and Dorcas’ eyes on you, and you can hear the boys cheering Avery on for somehow pulling you, despite how you’d been attached to Sirius only days ago.

The girls follow you into the classroom. You see Peter nudge Sirius when he notices you enter the room. Sirius is slumped over his books, the stature of an upset teenager. Your smirk grows. You take your seat and both of your friends stand in front of you.

“Avery? Since when?” Priscilla asks.

You figured she’d be more intrigued by your choice than Dorcas. Well, Priscilla would be more supporting of whoever you chose; Dorcas is going to harshly judge you for it until you’re able to explain to her why.

“A few minutes ago.”

“I thought you didn’t like him?” Dorcas asks, putting both her hands on the desk and leaning forward. “What changed?”

You shrug. “Thought about it and realized he has a point. There is a chance that my parents will pick him.”

“Then you might as well go around snogging all of the Sacred 28 boys. Prewett twins next on your list?”

“Fawley was looking pretty fit earlier today,” you say as if actually pondering it.

You aren’t. You have no need to. Based on how Sirius is still leaning over his books as students begin to file into the classroom, your little act had the desired effect. Sirius witnessed that you could move on from him – you couldn’t but what he saw said otherwise.

Priscilla takes her spot next to you and Dorcas pulls out her own chair at the desk in front of you. She turns around every once in a while to look at you, trying to read your mind because, of course, she did not believe you for a second that you kissed Avery because of the slim chance your parents pick him. She also knows you wouldn’t kiss Fawley if you were the last two humans on earth.

You half expect Sirius to approach you after class is dismissed. You try not to think about it too hard when he doesn’t. You and Priscilla hook arms and walk to Herbology together. Because of that, you don’t see how Sirius glared at you as you walked out of the classroom. James put an arm around his shoulder, steering him out of the classroom since he wasn’t walking out by his own accord.

“Mate, didn’t you just complain about her asking to be official or something?”

Sirius groans. “Yes, but-”

“Ah, no buts then. You go around kissing other girls. I reckon she’s free to do the same.”

“She’s never done it before!”

“Maybe it’s where you haven’t been able to see?”

Sirius shakes his head. “No. I know her. She doesn’t go around with other blokes. And she certainly doesn’t go around with Avery.”

“Guess she does now,” James says disinterested. “Maybe you don’t know her as well as you thought.”

Sirius frowns but lets James lead him to their next class. He tries to focus on the lectures but his mind keeps drifting back to you and the way Avery had his hands on you. He hated it. It makes his stomach churn. And it only gets worse when he sees Avery sit next to you at dinner, close. Too close for Sirius’ comfort. He sits in silence throughout the entire meal, despite James, Peter and Remus’ attempts to get him to join the conversation.

Avery leaves the Great Hall before you. Remus has to physically hold Sirius at the table to stop him from following Avery out.

“Don’t,” Remus hisses.

Sirius growls.

“Mate, what has gotten into you?” Peter asks.

“Nothing,” Sirius mutters.

“Yeah, and this has absolutely nothing to do with your Slytherin,” James says.

“She’s not my-”

“And I think that’s what’s bugging you,” James says, making Sirius groan.

Then you get up to leave and this time, no matter how hard Remus tries, he can’t stop Sirius from following you out of the hall. You had a head start so it takes Sirius a minute to find you. He calls out your name. You halt in your steps. You glance over your shoulder and roll your eyes, but inside, you are smirking.

“You guys go ahead,” you say to the girls.

They nod and continue on to the common room. You turn toward Sirius with your arms crossed.

“What do you want?”

“Avery, huh?”

“Who I kiss isn’t any of your business,” you say flatly.

“But you don’t like him. So when did that happen?”

“I don’t see why you care? All I ever was to you was someone to snog. I’m sure the great Sirius Black can find another girl.”

“You know you’re more to me than someone to snog.” Sirius takes a step toward you and you can really see the pleading look on his face. “I mean it when I say you’re my favorite person. I’d rather spend time with you than anyone else. I thought you felt that way about me.”

You scoff.

“Oh, you mean when I asked you to put your money where your mouth is? Because I wanted to be your girlfriend? When you said ‘oh’?” You shake your head. “You need to get your act together and decide if you want me or not. Your time is running out.”

“What do you mean?” Sirius asks, although he assumes you mean you’re officially done with him. He needs to hear you say it.

“My debutante ball is over break.”

His face falls. He knows exactly what it means.

“Ah, so you remember what that means, lovely. But I’m going to reiterate it anyways, you know, just in case. My parents are going to invite anyone from the Sacred 28 who has a son around our age and a handful of others to a ball. A ball where I’m going to be paraded around.” Your voice becomes more agitated with every word. “And then my parents are going to decide who I marry. Which, as I’m sure you’ve put together by now with your magnificent brain, means that Avery could very well be their choice. I’m sure his parents would love that. So would the Rosiers and Crouch and Prewett and Fawley and Macmillan and-”

“I get the point.”

“Oh, do you? Because I don’t think you do. The rest of my entire life is going to be decided by who is at this event, and Merlin, I want you to be there. So if you care about me at all, you’ll come. You’ll pretend to enjoy the event, you’ll be pleasant. Or you better get used to seeing someone else with me. Got it?”

You turn and storm away, leaving Sirius dumbfounded in the corridor. He watches you disappear around the corner and he still doesn’t move. He doesn’t move as other Slytherins coming from dinner walk past him. It takes him a while before he finally moves and goes back to Gryffindor tower.

Both attending a Sacred 28 debutante ball and seeing you with another guy make him want to gag. He doesn’t think that asking you out would change the fact that you’re having a debutante ball, but maybe you thought your parents would take an existing relationship into consideration? He knows the reason he hasn’t asked you out is because it would make his parents happy. You would be perfect. You’re pretty, a Slytherin and from a Sacred 28 family. You have more promise than some of the other Sacred 28 kids.

But you said you want Sirius at the ball. Even though he hasn’t been able to overcome his disdain for making his parents proud and actually date you, you want him at the event where your parents look for your husband. And that makes his heart pound. You like him so much more than Avery or the boys.

For the last two weeks before everyone goes home for Christmas, Sirius is more quiet than usual. There’s a nonstop debate going on in his head. Does he go to the ball? How would he get there? How would he get in? He doesn't even know when it is. Does it really matter who he likes if he’s already been disowned? He’s already living with the Potters. The only way his parents would probably even find out would be through Regulus.

He knows that if he doesn’t want to see you with someone else, he needs to step up. He just needs to figure out if he can.

You, on the other hand, spend the last weeks at Hogwarts trying to avoid Avery whenever you can. That boy is overly confident in his ability to charm your parents, and you apparently. Although, you may have given him the wrong impression when you snogged him. You still consider it worth it since it got the reaction out of Sirius that you wanted. And if how Sirius is acting is any sign, your words got to him. You don’t think you’ve seen him so quiet for so long, and it appears to be jarring for his friends as well.

Priscilla is confused as to why you snogged Avery and are now avoiding him. Pandora is with Dorcas on being confused why you snogged him at all, but they help you avoid him. Evan, Barty and Regulus all find it hilarious. Barty says it’s because Avery is a bad kisser and the other two think his reasoning is sound enough. You may have also not denied it.

As soon as you get home from Hogwarts, your mother whisks you off to a fitting. From there, it’s last minute etiquette lessons and meetings with vendors. And then another fitting and styling. You have very little time for yourself.

You’re not sure if you expected a letter or something from Sirius, but you have the sinking feeling in your stomach telling you that he’s not coming. Maybe him being quiet was him coming to terms that it really is over between you, or he was nursing his ego because you yelled at him. Either way, if Sirius isn’t there, you hope your parents decide on one of your less annoying classmates, so not Avery, or one of the less annoying of the older bachelors still looking for a wife.

The morning of your debutante ball, James leaves the kitchen with a frown.

Then he sees Sirius lounging on the couch and asks, “Mate, you got dress robes here?”

Sirius sits up slightly and cocks an eyebrow.

“I think so. Why?”

James runs a hand through his messy hair. “Mum says we’re going to a ball or something tonight. Sending me out for a haircut and to see if they can, in her words, tame this.” He sighs. “See you in a bit.”

Sirius watches James go out the door. A ball. He immediately thinks of you, but the Potters aren’t a part of the Sacred 28. There’s no way it’s your ball. He gets off the couch and goes to the kitchen to find Euphemia.

“Mum,” he says.

“Sirius, yes, I heard you tell James you should have dress robes,” she says, assuming the robes were why he came into the kitchen. “Tea?”

“Yes, please. Thank you.” Sirius sits down at the table while Euphemia pours a cup for him.

Then she sits down across from Sirius and a sincere expression takes over her face.

“The ball we’ve been invited to… it’s a Sacred 28 event.”

Sirius’ heart rate begins to accelerate. The chances of it being your debutante ball just increased tenfold.

“It’d be too disrespectful for us not to go. So me, James, Monty, we’re going. You get the option. You don’t have to go. Not if you don’t want to. We can tell James that you’re not feeling well and he won’t be any the wiser.”

“No,” Sirius says, shaking his head. “I’ll go.”

“You sure?”

Sirius nods and Euphemia leaves it at that. She had been fully expecting Sirius to stay behind. She didn’t think he’d want to spend an evening at an event that his parents would likely be at. For a few minutes, they drink their tea in silence. Then she tells him what time they are planning on leaving and to make sure he was ready by then, assuming he didn’t change his mind.

“I won’t. Thank you for the tea.”

Hours later, James and Sirius let Euphemia fuss over the small details of their outfits before Monty can insist that they need to leave. Sirius remembers when he got these robes. He remembers sitting on his bed and cutting the embroidered tread that spelled out his family’s motto inside of the breast pocket. Even in his hatred for his family, he knew that dress robes were essential to have and overall, this set wasn’t terribly uncomfortable so he kept them.

Whatever salon James went to worked a miracle on his hair and Euphemia has already whacked his hand away from his head several times. The urge to run his hands through his hair is apparently quite strong – that or it’s just habit at this point. Sirius had slicked his curls back, and James gawked at how easily he had done so.

“Hair care, my friend. And I don’t have a bird’s nest on my head every other day of the year,” he told him.

Now, Sirius fidgets with the rings on fingers as he waits for the Potters to be ready to leave. Euphemia sees this and hopes that Sirius is making the right choice by coming with them. She makes a mental note to watch him carefully.

When they arrive at the ball, Sirius stands a little bit back from the family. He lets them enter and be announced as a family – “The Potters.” And then he slips in to follow them. He doesn’t want to be announced. He decides he made the right choice with that when he spots Regulus across the room. His parents are already here. But so are many other Sacred 28 families and it’s easy to avoid Orion and Walburga.

Your parents are walking around the hall, welcoming the families to their event. The Potters make sure to thank them for the invitation. James and Sirius stand behind them as they do so, not trying to draw too much attention to themselves. The Prewett twins see the boys and wave them over. James taps his father’s shoulder and whispers to him before they go over to their fellow Gryffindors.

You’re in an upstairs room applying finishing touches to your makeup. Some woman your mother hired had already finished your hair. You keep glancing at the clock, which you swear has started moving slower. It has been like this all day. You were fussed over while your parents stressed over the last minute details and directed vendors to set up the venue. You’re just waiting for a staff member to come get you to be presented.

Your name echoes in the ballroom. You stand at the top of the grand staircase before slowly going down it. You’re too focused on not falling on your face to even attempt to see who all showed up. And somewhere in the crowd, unknown to you, Sirius is watching you with adoration in his eyes – he thinks you look more divine than you ever had.

You greet your parents at the bottom of the stairs and light strings fill the air, signalling the portion where you’d walk around with your parents to “meet” the boys in the room. You keep a polite smile on your face and speak when spoken to. Evan looked like he was struggling to keep from laughing. Barty looked positively grim standing next to his father. Avery stared at you with hungry eyes that made you shift uncomfortably. Regulus had his trademark stoney expression. You tried to hide your surprise when you saw James and his parents. James offered you a sympathetic smile, which you didn’t know how to respond to.

After meeting with all of the families, too many in your opinion, it is time for dinner. Your family sits at the head table while the guests fill in the various round tables in the room. When the meal is served, you see Barty raise a toast to you; the food meets his standards, not that you really had any influence over it. Not the main meal, at least. Your mother asked what dessert you’d like served.

Then comes the last part of the event: socializing, drinking, dancing. You have half a mind to go find Pandora, knowing she’d be here somewhere. You scan the room for her as you stand next to your parents. They are conversing with parents again because just presenting you to all the families isn’t enough to garner how well someone’s son might provide for you. Like you’re incapable of providing for yourself…

Your thoughts still. You look away and then back again, making sure it’s not your imagination. He’s here. Sirius actually came. Not only that, but he looks amazing in his dress robes. Even from a distance, you can tell they must’ve cost a fortune. Part of you wants to chastise him for wearing ratty band t-shirts with torn jeans at school when he has the ability to look this breathtaking. You place a gentle hand on your mother’s arm and excuse yourself. Then you beeline for Sirius.

“Sirius,” you breathe. It’s all you can manage due to your heart pounding in your throat and your general disbelief that he’s actually here for you.

“Why, hello gorgeous,” he says coolly, taking your hand and kissing it in a deep bow. “Would you grant me the honor of a dance?”

You nod, unable to speak. He holds your hand raised to shoulder level and leads you to the dance floor. It’s so easy to dance with him, to hold onto him and let him lead. You can’t help but think that this feels right.

“You’re here,” you manage to say quietly after one song.

“You told me to.”

You roll your eyes as the next song begins and Sirius starts to move you around the floor again.

“I’ve told you a lot of things.”

“Well, as you know, I’m an idiot quite often.”

You can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. He’s here and he’s dancing with you and he’s looking at you like he will fight anyone who tries to take you from him. And he just called himself an idiot. With each passing song, Sirius looks at you with a softer and softer gaze. It’s enough to make you blush.

But after several songs, you need a break.

“I need to check in with my parents. Don’t go far.”

Sirius nods and kisses your hand again. Your small smile from dancing with him turns into a wider grin. He’s here and acting like a proper gentleman. You find your parents standing off to the side, having obviously been watching you with Sirius.

“Who is that young man?” your father asks as soon as you walk up to them. He’s eyeing Sirius as he talks with the Prewett twins again.

“Sirius. Sirius Black,” you say, trying not to stumble over your words.

“A Black?” your mother repeats with interest. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

You nod. “I was.”

Your father hums. You look from him to your mother and back again. You hate that they have unreadable expressions. Indifferent. You suppose it’s better than instant distaste.

After a few moments, your father says, “Go mingle. This is your ball.”

You nod and as soon as you turn around, Sirius is walking toward you with two glasses in his hands. He offers you one, which you take. You walk around the room with him, holding onto his arm.

“I still can’t believe you actually came,” you say after one lap of the room.

“I had to. I care for you more than you know.” His voice is soft and steady, and his tone tells you these words are just for you to hear. “I’ve had my head up my arse for far too long.”

You chuckle softly. “I could’ve told you that.”

“You did. Several times. I was so caught up in my own bullshit that I didn’t listen. I didn’t see the perfection right in front of me.”

You look at Sirius like he hung the moon in the sky just for you – only he’s looking at you the exact same way. The things this man did to your heart.

Once your drinks are finished, you return to the dance floor for a few more songs. Yaxley, an older boy who graduated Hogwarts a few years ago, asks for a dance and you give Sirius a look that wordlessly says you have to dance with someone other than him despite not really wanting to. Yaxley doesn’t talk much during the single dance but thanks you when the song’s over. As he walks away, Fawley comes up and asks for a dance. And after him, Travers and Gideon Prewett and finally Barty.

“Junior, I’m surprised,” you say with a smirk. Frankly, you’re glad to be with someone you consider a friend after people you’ve barely ever talked to.

“Father’s going to talk to your parents again. Said I should get more acquainted with you.”

You laugh. “He doesn’t know you’ve helped me with more than one Herbology essay?”

“That man knows nothing of my life. As long as the grades come home, he doesn’t actually care. If he did, Merlin help me.” Barty spins you before holding you close again. “I think he’s saving you though. I think I say the Averys headed toward your parents again with him in tow.”

“Hopefully your father can talk until they move on.”

Barty grins and leans in to whisper, “Love, I knew you’d love to spend your life with me rather than that twat.”

You scoff, but give him nothing more of a response. Soon enough the song ends and Sirius is back at your side.

“I need a break,” you say with a sigh.

Sirius leads you over to the drinks. He stays at your side for the rest of the night, not letting anyone else dance with you. He kisses your cheek when James comes to collect him as his parents are ready to leave. That helps connect some dots for you. If Sirius is living with the Potters, he would have come with them. But the fact that he came still means the same to you. He still chose to spend most of the evening with you.

You find your parents and follow them around. Various families come up to say goodbye to them. You briefly see Pandora when the Rosiers take their turn.

“You look lovely,” she says before pulling you into a hug. “And I saw you with your Gryffindor,” she whispers.

You exchange knowing smiles. There were a few more families after the Rosiers before you could go home. Your parents don’t talk about who they liked the best when you get home. They tell you to go to bed and you can discuss it in the morning.

“Are you friends with the Crouch boy?” your father asks when you gather in the sitting room after breakfast. “Bartemius said he’s in Slytherin with you.”

You raise your eyebrows in slight shock. You hadn’t been expecting Barty to make your parents’ list.

“We’re friendly, yes.”

“His family has good connections with the ministry. Good thing to keep in mind,” your father adds.

“And it’s good of you to have danced with Yaxley. His parents really are lovely. He already has a good job. You’d be very well provided for,” your mother says.

You shift uncomfortably on the couch. Of those two, you’d much rather have your parents pick Barty. He’s at least your friend, you know him. You’ve barely even spoken to Yaxley at previous Sacred 28 events. You wouldn’t even call him your acquaintance with how little you know of him.

“That boy you were with all night. You said he’s a Black?” your father asks.

“Yes,” you answer probably too quickly and with too much enthusiasm.

“Yet he wasn’t with Orion and Walburga when we met their boy… What’s his name…”

“Regulus is his brother,” you tell him. Would the fact that Sirius is disowned sway your parents’ opinion of him?

“Right, right.” Your father clears his throat. “We’d like to talk to him. Being how… at ease you were with him, would you invite him over for tea before you go back to school?”

Your eyes go wide. Your parents want you to invite him for tea?

“Darling,” your mother says, immediately catching your curiosity at their request, “you practically spent the whole night with him. He seems like a gentleman and is from a good family. We’d like to meet him properly.”

You nod. “I… I’ll write to him tonight.”

“Very well. You are excused.”

You’re smiling to yourself as you leave the sitting room and head to your room. The fact that your parents want you to invite Sirius over means that they actually care what you think. And if Sirius meant everything he said last night, he’d come and be presentable to your parents. The tea would be after the Christmas ball, but that doesn’t mean you won’t be gushing about it to Pandora and Priscilla. They’ll be wanting to know who your parents liked.

Hopefully Sirius will accept and be on his best behavior to finish winning over your parents. Otherwise, you’ll be talking Barty up to your parents.

Tags: @navs-bhat, @bruxa0007

#marauders #marauders fic #marauder-misprint #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black fluff #request #slytherin!reader #sirius black angst #sirius black hurt/comfort

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unknownati · 7 months ago

Note

heyy hope you’re doing well! requests r open & i was wondering if you could do a stm w ekko evolving him and his s/o or a friends to lovers trope going roller skating ? :!!

like pls tell me you’ve seen those videos of ppl roller skating .. anyways thxs for the consideration, i luv your work <3

ix. skate to me!

a/n: TY!!! THIS IS SO CUTE LOLOLOL

dance based of this tiktok, idk if i'm feeling that song for this fic tho 🤔 imagine whatever song you want

*the song i attached was also not the song i imagined for the dance but it fit the fic...if u ask me i was thinking abt drugs n hella melodies by don toliver

guys iwas reading my old writing from like my notes app n why am i kinda getting worse at it LMAOOO

warnings/tags: gn!reader, no use of y/n, no desc of reader's physical features, fluff + suggestive (really it's just the dance but i dont see it as THAT sexual 🌚), reader is a beginner roller skater, modern!au, teaching you how to skate 🥹, friends to lovers, slow dancing (backpacking is the actual term...whoops), ekko locking tf in, to fw this fic or not fw this fic...good question!

_______________________________________________

ekko regularly went roller skating with powder, vi, claggor and mylo. and lord, was he a show off.

powder would be skating around in her own world, humming to the music, then here comes ekko zooming by backwards, crouching down, AND on his phone.

he acted humble about it, but humility only goes so far when you're two steps from doing a backflip on the floor. regulars started to build a reputation up for him as "the trick guy" because of it.

anyway, one day the six of you were hanging around in powder's room when you overheard mylo ask, "we still on for thursday?"

you perked up. "what's on thursday?"

"oh," vi shrugged, pink locks brushing against her brow. "we're all going skating together."

powder's arms draped around your shoulder. "hey, you should come with. you busy?"

"no," you hummed, "but i don't know how to skate."

the weight of knowing glances being shot around the room smacked you like a ton of bricks, and once again you felt left out. you opened your mouth to speak up but claggor, wearing a smug grin, cut you off.

"ekko'll teach you."

ekko fumbled with his pen, spinning to face the group. "huh?"

"yeah," vi chips in. "you'll teach them, won't you?"

ekko's eyes land on you, his lips tugging into a sheepish smile without even knowing it. "of course!"

͙͘͡★

the first time you joined them was the first time you'd ever skated, ever.

low neon lights paint the room, flicking through hues with each beat that pounded through the speakers. a glimmering disco ball spun lazily at the center of the skating rink.

ekko stepped on the slippery floor backwards, hands cupping yours. he pulled you forward and your upper half moved, but your legs didn't.

"c'mon!" he urged, drawing you closer so you didn't fall.

"i'm coming..." you croaked, trying to convince yourself more than him. your eyes remained glued to your feet.

he raised a brow and he leaned into your space. "hey," his breath tickled your ear. "i've got you."

you swallowed and awkwardly stepped onto the floor. wobbling legs mimicked those of a newborn fawn, your body lurching forward to find its balance. embarrassing, a voice rung in your mind. you heard laugh above you and it irritated you.

"ekko, help me! don't just stand there!" you scolded. ekko's fingers began to ache from how tight you gripped onto them.

"you won't learn!" he insisted. "listen, if you lean forward, all your weight will move forward. stand up straight!"

yeah, fuck all of that.

your hands abandoned his, desperately searching for a sturdier anchor. his shoulders, of course! you braced yourself on them, propelling yourself upright. every limb in your body grows stiff, your gaze meeting ekko's.

at no point did you register how close you were to him. chest to chest, nails clawing at his hoodie, faces only a few inches apart.

ekko however, was violently aware.

ekko cleared his throat, hands awkwardly floating at his side. his gaze darts everywhere except for towards you. he didn't wanna just grab on you, not without asking first—fuck, you looked amazing under the lights—but you needed help and you wanted to learn and—

"ekko?" you called for the third time.

"sorry. we'll, um, take it slow, okay? i won't let you fall. i promise."

you've only realized this now, but ekko was...kinda cute.

͙͘͡★

you attended the skating sessions more frequently after that. a quick learner, you were. after a few weeks you started to get the hang of skating on your own without clutching onto ekko like your life depended on it.

he'll never admit it, but he missed having you so close.

the distance had you two constantly staring at each other on the floor, shooting each other smiles. they were flirtatious and shy, too nervous to go any further.

with you starting to separate on the floor came you seeing just how much of a show off ekko was. backwards, sliding on the floor, speeding around the rink, twisting with vi to create some insane shape—didn't matter. it was for fun, sure, but he loved seeing the impressed look on your face more than anything.

͙͘͡★

you trail far behind ekko on the rink, still not quite as fast as him. he twists around to face you, arms open, beckoning you over.

pushing off the ground, you speed up to him, barely avoiding a collision. your body clashes with his, almost sending you both tumbling down. you erupt in laughter after finding your balance.

"i knew you'd learn," he comments, the distance between you two growing ever so slightly. your hip bumps his.

"all thanks to you," you coo. his lips press into a line, slipping against each other. should he just tell you? he's been holding it in way too long, now would be the best time, right?

"☆, i—"

"this next song's for all my couples on the floor," the dj's voice boomed out in the speaker. ekko looked around in confusion, looking at the dj booth near the front, lo and behold, powder was behind it, her hand covering her mouth as she spoke to him.

you moved with the threat of departure, then paused once you heard the slow intro to the song. "oh, but i love this song," you murmur in disappointment. once the dj played a song during a session, he would not play it again.

ekko hesitates to speak. "we could...dance anyway?" you glance over at him, glassy umber eyes begging you to not skate away. "...can we?" he tacks on.

you'd be crazy to say no.

your foot makes its turn, wheels sliding across the floor as you faced ekko. it starts casual; just skating, swaying to the music, eyes closed while you just let you and the music get comfortable.

ekko, on the other hand? a wreck. he could only keep his cool for so long. with you moving closer, closer, closer, he was about to fall apart. he kept glancing behind him to 'make sure he didn't crash into someone' but if he had the choice he'd keep his eyes fixed on you forever.

you caught on to ekko's feelings for you a while ago. albeit, it took multiple teasing glances from the rest of the group for it to start to click, but once you realized that you had him wrapped around your finger, that chance was taken and ran, no, sprinted with it.

your hands finally met, which is when you opened your eyes.

"hi," you chirp.

"hi," he parrots, tone dripping with something you can't quite place.

half-lidded eyes watch in awe of how effortless you made everything look. he needed to catch up, couldn't leave you dancing on your own.

as the song started to build into the chorus, ekko started to follow your lead. a lazy game of cat and mouse—chasing the direction of your body. his arm raised, readying you for a twirl that you were waiting for.

your fingers rotate between his and you make it halfway through the spin before you trip on your front wheel. your back lands on his chest.

"sorry," you gasp, heart racing from almost falling. his heartbeat drums against your shoulder.

"no, it's okay," he reassures. his wrists perch atop your hip bone, your arms crossed in front of you.

your eyes meet his above you shoulder. smooth, brown skin tinted a deep red over the lights, small twinkles curving around the planes of his face. slowly, your hips grind back into his. it was impossible to feign innocence at this point.

ekko almost chokes on his spit, but by no means is he against it. the slow wind of your body against his had the room spinning around him. it takes him...multiple seconds, but he starts to move with you, stretching your arms into the air, exposing the fluidity of your movements.

although his anxiety was eating him alive, he rocked with you ever so slowly, arms swishing back down. his hand glides on your upper thigh, chin resting on your shoulder. you crane back on his opposite shoulder, free hand raising to cup the back of his neck.

it felt like nobody else was in the building at that moment, music drowning out behind your heartbeats thumping in your ears.

you lock eyes, both of you stealing glances at the other's lips.

ekko was frozen, caught in the intricacies of your facial features. to be fair, you were losing the ability to breathe the more you stared into his eyes, but it seems ekko is losing brain cells. so, fine. you'd do it.

your noses collide at first, sending you back to his shoulder. like two teenagers. no time was set aside for any apology from either of you after you finished snickering, guiding him by his neck to finally let your lips meet.

the rhythmic beats in your chests synced, the world blurring around you as your movements slowed to a near stop. with each presage of the kiss stopping, your brows knit together and the hand cradling his neck pressed ever-so-slightly down. urging, pleading him not to let the moment end.

it was delicate, and maybe lasted longer than it should have, but it spoke every word that the two of you were too scared to say.

͙͘͡★

during your dance, mylo's mouth flew open with a yawn.

"man, i just wish they'd get it over with and kiss."

"be patient!" powder snapped, leaning on the table, anticipation literally having her at the edge of her seat. she's been waiting for this moment for months, praying for the day that you two just suck it up and admit it.

vi leaned across the table to whisper to claggor, eyes remained fixed on the two of you. she chuckled. "ekko's too nervous to—holy shit."

#arcane x reader #ekko x reader #ekko x you #ekko x reader fluff #ekko x fem reader #ekko x y/n #arcane x reader fluff #arcane x you #arcane ekko #arcane fluff

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edenspoem · 2 years ago

Text

SEXROT 𖤐 | ellie williams

☠︎︎࿐-ˊˎ jackson!ellie x fem!reader

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

✧˖ ° 🕯 bright blessings!

AN: second fic ever published, it took sm longer but has more focus on the smut part of it. maybe the epilogue is a bit more casually written but its whatevs y'all def just here for the smut anyway. but(t) i hope u enjoy!! cause i sure did!! various times.

cw/tags: NSFW 18+ MDNI, smoking weed, getting high, friends to lovers, flirting, killing infected, guns, knives, blood description, replaces the jackson patrol scenario, spitting, dom leaning ellie, fingering (receiving, vaginal) clit stim (receiving and giving-ish) strap penetration (receiving, vaginal) oral (receiving) petnames (babe,baby,babygirl,princess) almost caught naked tewgether 😈(not in the act)

WC: 6.6k+

designated song: anesthesia- type o negative

synopsis: you have resided in jackson for about six months solo in a humble cabin only a stroll away from the lively community plaza. ellie introduced herself to you two months ago on the full lunar night of a bonfire and have proved inseparable ever since. both of you had a couple things in common upholding your friendship but lots of new experiences arise from beneath those shared interests. one day, you and ellie embark on the scheduled patrol for that afternoon, plowing through scattered clusters of infected inhabiting dilapidated buildings lost in the past. presently, after trudging the pearly snow and eluding the raging snowstorm, tucking both of you into a lone library sitting amongst those very buildings, brimmed with a 'herby' mystery.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Your uneasy fingers grasp the rustic steel door handle, deprived of the haven sourced on the summit of your horse's saddle minutes prior to entering this enigma of a building. Not a soul has settled within these walls for a considerable stretch of time and it shows, dust cloaking the floor, a void pooling in various corners of each room, the stuffy and still air clogging your senses and peculiar noises erupting from either your mind or physical reality. You roll the knob and push the loose door open, hinges creaking untimely with the lingering presence of a clicker revealing itself with the infamous croaks emitting from its fungal body.

Ellie is close behind, poised over your crouched shoulder with hawk pupils scanning the room you've just discovered. Her hand nudges you and deviates your focus from the room, honing on what she was mouthing in empty words.

"Watch my back, I'm gonna sneak up on it."

You nod subtly in accordance, flattening your back against the icy door to make a path for her.

Ellie extends her gloved hand out on the doorways trim, shuffling on crouched legs past you and into the pigsty of an office, steadily approaching the mindless croaking clicker.

Your fingers seize the pistol sheathed in its thigh holster, provoking the trigger with dual fingers ready to fire a round right in the clickers noggin if need arises. The creaky chatter cracking from the fungoid continues as Ellie creeps upon its obliviousness, pouncing timely and capturing it in headlock as she fluidly jabs her switchblade into its rigid neck, spewing crimson blood outwards that painted her sleeve quite disgustingly.

"Uck," she conveys, face contorted with sourness.

Stillness remains until the coast proves clear, giving you a chance to address, "All good, no more infected."

"Well, it's about fucking time!" she heaves the figurative indent of edge from her tense chest, flicking off strings of blood from her winter sweater. "Think this doors' unlocked?" She queries herself prior to twiddling with the rattling door knob of a possible exit.

Your wandering eyes uncover the roughly concealed red and grey steel box, internalizing instantly that it was a generator, "Hey, 'Williams', there's a generator." you make known to Ellie, who's not even facing it.

She turns around, "Where there's a generator, there's a hideout. We could use the supplies, so.." she sauntered over to the generator, folding her knuckles around the pull-tab, "Hope they don't mind us borrowing- also, don't call me by my last name!"

You snort a genuine laugh and ogle the way Ellie cranks the cord, arm so stable and fierce. You felt like a bumbling idiot for admiring her mere movements, but something under the skin pined for her in a way unfathomable at first glint. Her cinnamon dotted cheeks, badass scar slanting in her brow, fluorescent fauna irises, button nose and the sheer nerd that she was really spun the tide coalescing within your tenuous heart. On the other hand, her mannerisms, thrumming husky voice and attitude frets the knot in your pelvis beyond a fixing point you can't manage alone.

"C'mon, lights are on in here." Her voice snuffs the ramblings clogging your brain, grasping your attention towards the door swinging open just now.

You stare into her pupils barreling into you, now twisting a impishly curious visage.

"What'chu thinking about?"

Your eyes flicker, "Nothing." A clod draws from your tense gullet, gulping the trance that bewitched your susceptible mind.

"Doesn't look like 'nothing'." She prys with a low gravelly tone, waddling languidly towards you.

"Nothing." You pursue vaguely, dusting past Ellie in a swift pace.

She just gawks at you, thin grooves in-between her knitted brows while she swung her head round to trail her eyes after you. Admittedly, she entertained the stray thoughts of you mutually, as the living recreations of you are sunken into her journals pages habitually. Her wrist recalls every arch and convex of your face, fingers honor the sway of your eye shape, subconscious retains the wisping of your baby hairs and consciously, Ellie just knows you as 'cute girl'. That very title is etched under the whole lot of depictions reaping your glamor throughout her journal.

"You think Eugene used this place too? I mean, all this electrical shit, nobody'd tinker with it except him." She infers, reverting to the eased doorway you just proceeded through.

Your void mind instantly heeds the flurry of wired veins branched across the next room. Your eyes trace the river of cords until it vanishes between the wall and a peculiar bookcase. Illumination pummels through the frayed wood planks backing it, luring your mind towards this enigma.

"Yo, check this out." You hoist an observation aloud, Ellie's umber auburn head whirls to peek at your discovery.

"What the fuck?" An airy chuckle grates from her throat in awe, peachy lips ajar and nooks of her mouth flexing into a smirk.

You lend your weight upon this bookcase, plateauing to drive the colossal bookshelf from where it's planted. "Ugh, a little help?"

Ellie giggles at your measly endeavor to motivate the shelf, that dumb wide crescent grin bearing upon her spread lips, "Got no muscles or something?" she quips.

"Shut up!"

She caves in and assists you regardless, moseying around and towering over you, casting a dark specter across your body. It was a casual stance, but quivers your beating core nonetheless. The noise of scratches indenting underneath the hefty bookcase as it drags screeches in your hollow eardrums.

"There." Ellie claims hoarsely, whooshing her breath against your bare neck and scoring numerous hairs to plumb from your skin.

Shaking it off, you embark through the threshold, eyes tunneling upon a downward staircase beckoning you to traverse to its descendant level.

"Tch, did Eugene own a sex dungeon?" Ellie immaturely cracks, scurrying down the steps faster than a dog could.

"I hope. That dude was lonely." You jest back in emphasis, earning a gust of laughter past Ellie's lips.

"Think we'll find scary whips and chains in there?"

"Oh my god, Els! I don't think he was into that kinda stuff." You hop a step, springing upon her and jabbing your stiff knuckles into her unalerted shoulder blades playfully.

"Ouch! It was only a theory." her voice curves in defense, sowing her feet flat after the last tread of stairs.

You tumble your eyes accompanied by a sigh, beating her to the door and pushing it open to a sight your noses realistically should have detected a floor above. Least of all ambrosial, the fetid source birthed from a garden of weed, some potted, some dangling, lots cascading over the steel tables, essentially, a fuck ton of herb.

"Unholy shit!" You expound with starstruck pupils, molting away the playful exterior you harbored just moments ago and cast an astonished visage.

"Did he grow.. all of this?" Ellie doesn't grapple with the notion of it right away, but soon materializes it in her cranium and wanders over to a pot of the dried sage green herbage.

"Must've taken ages.." you pondered, plucking a brittle leaf off its hunched stem, chafing it to ash between the pads of your glove-clad digits, "And a day.." you slyly add in regards to the weeds dehydrated state.

Ellie stupidly grins in reaction to your joke, baring teeth and all. She strides past arrays of trays, rustling the herbs strung up to the ceiling. Her eyes land upon an obscure shape, alluring her to inspect the properties of this object. She erupts, "It's a gas mask bong." cradling the mask in her hands, infatuated by its genius design.

"In what situation would you even use that?" you doubt it's anything more than plain goofy.

"Emergency relief?"

"Of course you'd know how."

"Hey, I don't smoke that often!" she wards in a pitched tone, scoffing at your mere belittling.

You reel back into a searching mode, lurking among the next isle of weed till a glass jar of blunts enlightens you. "Ellie, there's a jar of this shit!"

"Oh for real?" she trots hastily to your region, bearing a vivacious fever at the sight beholding a for real container of rolled blunts.

"Think it's fresh?"

Ellie hums an 'I dunno', cusping the jar from your hands and wrenching the lid with all her might, not budging at all. It takes her a blur of tries, observing the way her thick brows purse together and summon those vertical grooves in her forehead, an attractive sight to you.

"You need help?" you mock her, unzipping and unsheathing your arms out of the slim fitted sleeves fashioning your winter jacket.

"No, I got it." Ellie assures with a cluster of uncertainty smothering her strained voice. She had to practically arch over and bound the jar to her abdomen for faltering pressure.

"Gimme that." you snatch the glass from her dense grip, garnering a doubtful sneer skipping her lips.

"Like you'll get it."

"You shouldn't be talking." you dart a wink.

Ellie flits a smug middle finger like the immature fiend she is, peeling the green jacket layering her pewter grey hoodie off. She tosses it astray to the ground, lurking towards a convenient couch and relaxing her butt against the nook of its armrest.

The lid refuses to subdue to your firm grip, feebly slipping and searing an exasperated groan gritting your teeth. Your instincts flash and wills an arm up to hurl the jar harshly against the stone ground, pulverizing the glass into countless shards.

"What, the fuck, is wrong with you?" Ellie halts at every syllable, gesturing with her palms like a shield to the jagged fragments.

"A lot."

Ellie gives a judgey once-over at your unbothered demeanor, hiking off the couch and crouching down to cautiously pinch a freed blunt from the debris, feathering the dust off and indulging a whiff held to her nostrils, "Smells good." she asserts, hoisting up and offering the joint to you.

"We' taking a detour?" you metaphorize, rotating the blunt like a wheel between your fingertips.

"We're trapped." Ellie educed a reminder wary of the billowing snowstorm that proved risky to tread earlier.

"Totally trapped."

You both take harbor on the buffered sofa, bodies naturally vis-à-vis, a sheer four feet apart. Flicking the lighter cap open, plucking the tab and igniting the pocket flame whilst keeping your keen eyes on Ellies, who's piercing the windows to your soul with those juniper rings.

Ellie studies your face brazenly, locked on your profile as you kindle the blunt casually, lodging it between your lips to inhale a drag. Her optics tear an awkward barrier in the vacant space between you, now bidding a tension on the horizon. This makes you feel, seen, read like a poem, one that Ellie read often, and adored endlessly. Weed scorches the walls of your throat, eliciting a cough to spasm from your tight chest.

"Gah- fuck!" The spasmodic fit weaves through your distress, extended arm begging for Ellie to nab the source of your rasp from your jolting hand.

She snickers in belittlement at your expense, that dorky toothful smile crooking her rosy lips, "First time?"

"No."

"Liar."

"You'll never know."

Ellie's grin broadens prior to catering the blunt to her lips, pursing around the tip to drain a puff into her barren lungs. You take a gander at this sight, melting in the dimensional image of her woody auburn hair veiling a halo around her hung head, perking up to huff a thick smog enveloping you.

"What happened- last night, at the dance?"

"You mean, with Dina?" she passes the blunt back, fingertips mingling a moment.

A hesitant drag soothes your lips, "Yeah, if you're uh- fine telling." Luckily, a cough doesn't plague you.

Ellie's cheeks lift a smirk, "It was a.. wild night. Dina.. kissed me and then Seth went bigot mode and said a not-so-nice word."

"Oh, shit." your brows rear and carve horizontal creases to your forehead, "You good?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just.. on edge. This helps though." she beams, nicking the smoldering blunt from you.

You couldn't divulge if she referred to you or the weed being her beacon of ease, but you dust off the thought. "So, you and Dina?" you inquire in a flirty mimic.

"N- it's.. just a kiss. She was drunk, I'm not gonna look into it- it doesn't mean anything." she stutters in a flustered haze.

Drawing some smoke in, then puffing it out, a smile invites itself on her pooling red midface and hijacks your attention.

"Why' you blushing then?"

"I'm not fuckin- fuck." Ellie's embarrassment stinges the sight of her smile as she flicks her head away, a cute sight to you that warrants your rising feelings at this moment.

"I think it's more than a kissss~" your tone curls playfully, nagging at Ellie's rattled state.

"You're on thin ice."

"A crimes' been committed, someone stole your heart!"

"I will come over there and fight you, no joke!"

"Ellie's got a girl-"

Out of the void, she has you pinned by the wrists under her clammy palm, sinking into the padded seat beneath you, auburn bang drooping like a pendulum over your face with the barely existing space between your faces. Senses plagued from the way gravity lashed out of you and hallucinogens deceived you, burrowing and growing like mold in the foggy vale of your skull.

"I don't have a girlfriend," Ellie utters through a sluggish jaw. "yet."

Your mind makes out an elusive meaning to her words, "You don't like Dina.."

Her lips calcify ajar, hot breath seeping into your buzzing skin, "It's someone else."

"Me?"

Her eyes waver, but strike up, "Yeah." she admits in a soft chuckle, wedging her thigh between your shut ones cunningly. You swear her pupils dilate like a supermoon.

A euphoric orb rings inside of your essence, thickening your veins and coating a cloak of boiling heat over your swelling hips wailing for a fucking when her voice brims your ears. This weed has really got your mind and panties in a pleasant twist. The confirmation of her liking- love? Maybe it's too soon, but it sure confirms your hidden suspicions.

"I think we needa get back to your place." Your words weigh heavy with intention.

"Fuck yeah we do." Ellie aligns with your suggestion, gnawing her tender lips with intention as well.

You both hustle off the tearing couch now tinted with a lustful sweat, not paying an ounce to sliding a coat on or gloves prior to, but not without pilfering some lone blunts scattered upon the floor, mounting your horse and galloping off.

☆

The warmth of Ellie's garage-shed-home drinks you up graciously, biting back the bone-chilling skull-screaming fever of the merciless ice age outdoors. The locked door affirms you won't be bothered, so your nerves settle and excitement brews deep in you. A new heat bonds with your body physically, Ellie embracing you cordially and her face dominates your vision.

"We're here." Her husky voice streams pleasantly, "What now?"

A chill races your spine, replying in a stutter, "L-let's do this on your bed." You heave out with desire, digging your nails into her hoodie-clad back.

Ellie descends slightly to tuck her hands under your knees, buckling you around her hips snug and lodging her crotch against your heat, the rivet of her jeans poking the valley of your clothed cunt, earning a choked whimper bearing pleasure. The ensuing moment, you're cast onto the cottony bed with Ellie crawling over you, latching her plump lips on your bare neck and peppering your neck with prompt and sloppy nibbles.

"You want this? Cus' I really want this~" her words muffle in the crook of your jaw. "But d'you?" she intoned against your ardent skin, hips bucking and rolling the lump of her denim into your clit, causing you to bear down and grind back in chase of those lovely whits of ecstasy.

"I want it.. so bad.." the tension piling since the couch at last reprieves through every respite and roll of her hips.

Bodies chafing together at Ellie's intended friction, more importantly, knee now rutting against your aching clit stirs a kugelblitz in the cavern of your pelvis. Ellie peeks her face over yours, tucking the apex of her nose aside before rolling her lips on yours with passion, smacking sounds filling your headspace.

"I've liked you for so long, yknow?" Ellie affirms on your lips, "I wanted you for so long."

The pure carnal burn tickles your skin, bubbling a sinful image behind your eyes and mouth ardent to bite down on her bottom lip in hunger.

"Fuck, babe-" Ellie breaks the kiss briefly to utter, dazed vision, via her arousal, tunneling into yours with wide pupils.

You grin, prying your thumb between your teeth in a way that appeals to her. A hand traverses your body and toys with the hem of your shirt before lurking under and grasping your bra-clad breast fondly.

"Ahh~" your voice creaks when her thumb shimmies under the bra and plays with your fervent buds.

"Like that?" Ellie's tone dwells with honeyed lust, so sweet yet so intoxicating.

Lips polarize together and spark a continuous blossom of arousal, soaking the panties and coating a flim on the denim in a portal shape. Bound by a sluggish spell, your limp arm snakes over your torso, fingertips stroking Ellie's forearm and folding under the rim of your shirt to pull it off, exposing bare skin lush with blemishes and scars, trailing along with your jeans almost torn off in a rush.

"Damn." Ellie's airy chuckle riffs in your head, prefacing a long flirty whistle.

"Stop.." A blush bruises your midface, darting away from her intense stare that crowds you with a shy rotation of your head.

"Hey, look at me." Her fingers forcep your chin, reeling your head back to drown in her sights like a gentle whisper of adoration, "I wanna make you feel good.." her words cruise in a promising melody.

That very declaration screws your core in delightful ways, waxing a breaking sweat over your already humid exterior, interior when it refers to something else.

A notion murmurs akin to a soft hollow echo betwixt your temples, ushering your body to motion. Your hands spring to clasp her unaware wrists, tussling her over and straddling her hips.

"Woah, okay. This works." Her lips spread to an exalted smile, palms perched on your thighs and digits prodding the viscose skin wrapping the crests of your hips, reading every stretch mark with her finger pads which adorns a satisfied beam to her eyes.

A slew of exhilaration crashes against the walls of your body, grinding that clothed sensitive bud on the ridge of her zipper fly, biting back a riff of moans.

"Lemme hear you." Her hand scales your body, thumb inching past your lips and hooking over your teeth, beckoning it ajar.

"Fuhhhck.." You thrill her with a droning groan, stirring your eager tongue around her thumb and suctioning a kiss around her knuckle as it adjusts beyond your teeth.

"Suck, babygirl."

Obeying her word, your lips bolt around the root of her thumb, siphoning it further inwards on the plateau of your tongue and casting dozy sex eyes upon her.

"Good girl," Ellie's finger skims out from your teeth, leaving a trail of saliva down your chin.

Your hips wallow over the hill of her bunching jeans, feeling a finger embed and press up onto your clit, damping the tip of her willowy digit thinly and hollowing out a clamor of moans.

"I gotcha this wet?" A brazen smirk glamours her lower face, rousing her own elation with a weighted chafe of her thighs, "Fuck, baby."

A figment of her voice remains like a chant in your smothered mind, calling your eyes to shut and live in every sting of pleasure stimulating you.

"Hmnnn.. mmm~" you purr, unfathomable bliss influencing your actions with every roll of your bud.

"Can I take these off?" her fingertips peruse your pantyline, to which you nod, pleating them down your hips gently once you've granted the okay signal.

Your panties eventually get hurled somewhere in her room, probably dangling from the edge of her TV screens' rim or now invited to the pile of her own laundry, nonetheless, she honed in on your now stripped slit, spreading your legs with her own shuffling first, displaying your bareness split across her open thighs.

"Watch my fingers."

So you do, focused on her gliding hand grazing your thigh in an unhurried manner, coaxing the crevice melding your thigh and crotch before they split and part your folds. She gives you a once-over before dipping into your drenched core, sucking her fingers up like it knew her touch. Her fingers inside prove warm and filling, sliding through your clenched walls with ease and in return rewards you with a drunken and drowsy gaze from her seductive greenhouse glow eyes.

“You take me in so well, shit-” Ellie’s humid mutter seeps into the swirling skin of your temple, close proximity with her heaving chest and the aroma of her natural scent coating the chamber of your skull deeply.

Her skins aflame with an amber luminance and dampening, reeking of carnal ache through her sullied hoodie, so you slur out, “I wann-feel your skin’n mine..” you clutch on the band of her hoodie, knuckles prodding her firm abdomen.

"Fingers not enough?" Ellie's hoarse yet silky voice coos, fingers sliding from your sopping wet cunt and slick glazing her svelte digits beautifully.

"I need all of you." You lean and overshadow her stationary body, hastily pulling her hoodie over her head and ruffling her hair a smidge.

"Mhm, baby?" Ellie reposes her benign palms to your hips, fingernails indenting the plush skin of your ass and inscribing a reddened row of scratches, a daring idea lighting inside her head, "y'wanna sit on my face, pretty girl?" her husky tone thickens.

An answer spurns from your agape lips, instead winding your body to heed her suggestion and climb upwards towards her face, observing the way she bites her pink lips at the sight of your eagerness before your stature projects over her and offers a pleasing sight to her sex-swollen mind.

Your avidness turns her on, admittedly, "Fuck, babe- gonna clean y'up good, okay?"

Her greedy digits resume through your ocean-soaked folds, splitting them apart and sinking three fingers in, fiending for the profound warmth your core provides. They dip in nicely, entrance molding to the shape of her fingers, absorbing every intent feeling her curving knuckles elicit in your throbbing walls and the celestial heavens wash over you.

"Fuck me- oh god.."

"That's what I'm doing.." Ellie sneaks in a playful joke, a crook slanted smile smoothing her lips for a mere moment before swiping it away with her tongue 'wetting the whistle'. Her hunger lives for your taste, colliding timely with your clit and suckling the bud into her pressed lips, simultaneously pumping her fingers into your leaking pussy and forcing a spiking yelp from your unlatched mouth.

"Mmm, Ellie.." you whine, gripping on her already disheveled locks instinctively.

She doesn't reply, too focused on rolling the swelling bud with her nimble tongue flicking endlessly between your delicate folds. An arm buckles over your thigh, elbow adjacent to your hip crest and pinning you further against her deft lapping motions. Ellie knew what she was doing.

The curved fingers coaxing your g-spot sparingly is just enough stimulation to decay your functioning senses, "Els- El..Ellie.." you wail breathless, her tongue prying at the hood of your clit lovingly whilst suctioning inwards sends shockwaves down your legs and into your feet.

Ellie parts from your core, smeared with your slick gleaming down her chin. She sucks in the wetness dripping from her lips, "Tastes so good, babe- mm, so fuckin' hot." she steeps her vision in the perspective of your body elongated before her, eyeing like a precious gem.

You melt in the quickened pace of her fingers inside you, knuckles deep and brimming with arousal overflowing at the base of her fingers. The intense thrusting of your sobbing pussy ejects a melodious line of moans, "Fuuuuck…" masking the tantalizing noises of your heat slapping with Ellie's palm.

"Cum, babygirl, come on.." Her voice husks gravelly, deepening in your skull while numb-fucking you into oblivion with hawk eyes staring up at you.

Lubricous strings lash against your outer folds and inner thigh at each smack her hand endures, her tongue slurping up those juices pooling over your neglected clit adding an extra layer of lust incarnate ramming your walls to be released. Giving in, your nerves flare up and pulse around your opening, limbs tightening and clenching, especially around Ellie's lithe fingers, a sweet pleasure engrossing your entire essence with a rush of fluid spiraling down her knuckles.

"Good fuckin'- that's m'girl.." She growls inwardly against your stuffed cunt, thrumming from her chest igniting that attractive muffled voice she crowns.

You feel her fingers slip out, leaving a hollow sense rooting in your core. A suctioning sound comes from below you, noticing that Ellie had licked the taste of you from her pussy-drowned fingers.

"God, Ellie.. where'd you learn that?" you huff out, still descending your head from the sun above.

"Experience." She discloses, not a fragment of bluffing behind those proud eyes, relishing in the way she drove you to boundless ecstasy. She announces, "I'm not done yet though."

You inquire a bumbled facade until you hack her meaning just as she leverages you off her face with dual strong grips setting you to the side. Hoisting onto her knees, spinning 'round to rustle through her nightstand, equipped with a slightly beaten but sealed box once she faces you again.

"Fuck is that?" You ask with knitted brows, curving curiosity in your smirk.

"So, there was this sex store up in-"

"Ellie, is that a dildo?" you poke the box.

"Not- exactly no."

"Bitch, I'm gonna be getting a different kind of infection from that."

"It's sealed! The building was barely ruined or inhabited," She defends, gentle hands rubbing your folded knees. "I just wanna fuck you."

You bob your head languidly, bidding an unwarranted smile on your lips, "You did, though."

"But I can do so much more.." Her face levitates towards yours, "If you want?" the corners of her mouth jerk, upholding that memorable smile, dimples, nasal lines and all.

"Obviously.. I want it.." your voice rumbles navelly, eyes fix on her pupils, narrowed lids and a siren visage.

"Head on the pillow then, princess." Ellie chuckles, hands mindlessly peeling open the box.

Your fingers linger on your bra, still on somehow, so you brace it off willingly, plopping into the cloudy pillow enveloping your sticky skin with a cotton case creasing like a halo surrounding your head.

Ellie dumps the box's contents out, a thick hunter green mass smacking your thigh, "Shit, sorry." she clasps the strap-on by its buckle, leading it off your thigh simultaneously to giggling.

"How long ago did you find that box anyway?"

"Like.. a month or two?" her voice curves, unsure.

"So, you've been planning this for 2 months?"

"I've liked you longer than that."

"Oh?"

"I didn't plan it, I just.. had the stray thought." Ellie's cheeks churn in a red tint, "But I always think of you, fake dick or not."

"It's fine, I wanted you for a while too, so it's mutual." you sync a blush, anticipating the hazy lust to clamor within you again, "Thought of you too."

A mischievous grin carves on her lower face, light eyes squinting, "Like, in bed-"

"Get that damn thing on already."

"Yes, ma'am!" Ellie resumes her motions, tearing the rest of her under garments off in a pinch, bare alongside you. She fastens the strap on snug, jabbing into her untended clit that jams a groan out of her diaphragm.

"Neglected a bit?" you tease.

"Shut up." she hushes in a honeyed mumble, slouching slightly and grasping the mimicked shaft, spitting into her unoccupied palm and massaging the length graciously, "There we go.." she hums deeply.

Next thing, Ellie's hoisted your bottom between her thighs and legs hugging her hips loosely, seconds away from cramming the entire base into your over-sensitive pussy. She runs the tip through your delicate folds, sloshing the lewd slickness around which is music to your ears. Her eyes darted over to capture yours, withholding the appetite for one last affirm of consent; "Ready babe?"

"Mhm." You nod with zero hesitation, squirming your hips in timidness for what might be brought upon your foggy senses.

Ellie leans her body over you, sinking the tip between your slippery walls and gauging you in one quick swing of her hips.

"Fuck!" Bliss clogs your throat but overdrive knots in your pelvis, implanting your bottom deeper in the sheets as a means of reprieving the inferno of overstim just slightly.

Ellie lends you a moment of adjustment, asking in a silky tone, "Can I start moving?" her face a breath away from yours, arms like pillars locking you between her hands.

"Please.." you secure your legs around her hips, nicking her in the butt with the heel of your foot playfully, "fuck me.."

Ellie's muscles tense in excitement, fierce craving looms in her face and her hands run down to grip your hips in a carnal fashion as she sinks you deeper on her base, uttering under a hush, "I'll fuck the shit out of you."

Following that, you embrace her close to you as her hips begin to crash against yours slowly, akin to a wave, hollowing and filling as she pumps her hips flawlessly.

Tickling whimpers purring from your lips linger around the base of her ear, encouraging her to speed up slightly, chromatically raising the pitch of your pleasure, "Els…" you whine.

The strap jerks back at every thrust, chafing with her sensitive clit in provoking ways that draw out steamy breaths from her every moan. Friction beguiled her to pace faster, digging the straps base into her bud deeper, heaving a "Fuck, baby, fuck!" from that groggy voice as your hips knead together, her fingernails scraping your plush bottom instinctively.

You cast your head back towards the headboard, displaying a tidal of curses surfing from your throat at the top of cloud nine, "Yes! god.. harder.."

"Say my name.."

"Els-E-Ell.." you struggle as your voice gets smothered by every buck her hips produce.

"Come on.. you can do it." she motivates you in a sugary sweet coo.

"Ellie!" you wail, "Ellie.."

"Good girl."

Ellie snaps and throws her torso up, clutching your tender hips and slamming them down on her eased cock, front slapping harshly against your bottom with aiding wetness splayed across your legs, her face contorting one of strain at the sheer intensity her speed proves to be.

"Mm, fuck!" You writhe in erotic contentment, stunned by the pure sensations sweeping your nerves and swirling around your pelvis, she's fucking you so good, your minds' all mush.

Ellie bites back her ceaseless rasps, riveted on the way your breasts bounce restlessly with every pound, bewitched by the sight and honestly almost drooling since her mouth was just open. She groans, "You gonna cum again? Hmm?" her thrusting falters and begins to get sloppy, out of breath.

"A-huh! Hmmnn.." your vision blurs and you fall into a dizzying spire, fucked out of your mind and on the verge of snapping.

"Yes.. yess.." Ellie mewls out, the dark amber strand sticking to her drenched forehead, emanating a beautiful glow across her body that weaved every groove her toned muscles bestowed, highlighting her drooping lids, agape mouth and taut forehead creasing when fucking felt just right.

All the feelings bubble up, the strap hitting your g-spot so perfectly, fogging your mind and tossing your coordination out the window. She descends her head towards your neck, sanguine bites lathered upon your shoulder and crook of your neck.

"Ellie- I'm gonna.."

"Me too." She huffed out, slamming your hips down in unison with her movement, a sheet of slick glazed between both of your crotches causing a wet slap to occur with each thrust, "Open up more, babe." her hands trail to your thighs, forcing them apart .

"It's s'fhukin g-mmm.." your voice slurs and cuts off.

"Shhhshh… shh.. I know.." her lips drag against your ear, prideful eyes drowning in your fucked out face, proud of her work.

The swelling knot in your pelvis finally snaps, sending you quivering in her arms. Lewd moans clatter against the rooms walls, orgasm overwhelming your systems and gyrates your brain on a down spiral. Muggy sweat cloaks your entire body and hinders a steady breath from grazing your lungs.

Ellie's pelvis doesn't hesitate to halt, colliding with yours and rendering your already fried senses into a numbing and jittery state. She chases her own climax, hosting a melody of moans into your ears as she approaches release, "Fuck~ fuck fuhhckk.. babe." she squints harshly, driving her clit into the strap's base fiending for release.

"Els.." you whine, bracing the eruption of overstim.

"Just hold on, baby, hold'n.. uhh- fuck." Ellie's neck tightens and narrows her voice into a groan, gripping your wrist with a might to bear down her intense orgasm, sexy low growls thrumming from her chest. Her body falls flat on you in immediate exhaustion, burrowing the strap deep inside at a pause.

A laugh entrances you, "Felt good, hmm?"

"I should be asking you.. shit.." Ellie's chest rises sporadically against you as she syncs a giggle, sliding her hips away and taking the strap off without batting an eye so she could pepper you with smooches enraptured in a cuddle.

"It was good.. really fuckin' good."

Your reply seeps into her mind, inviting a sheepish smile to her face, "So.. does this mean, you'll be my… girlfriend?" a chuckle spurts out to clear any awkwardness.

That same pre-sex shy blush paints your face, replying, "Yeah, hell yeah."

"Okay.. you wanna, stay here tonight?" Ellie suggests with soft yet worn out eyes, fiddling with the hair cascading from your scalp.

"Of course, I don't think I can walk anywhere now." you quip, whisking your finger over her nose tip.

"Yeah.. bet I was better than any guy." She praises herself, beaten fingers tracing shapes on your chest.

"At least you get to choose your size."

"Pfft, you're funny." A brilliant laugh brushes past her lips, with a mellow whisper, "and so pretty." her thumb swipes your cheek.

You wrap your snug thighs enveloping her body, "You too, Williams."

"Still calling me that? I thought I said-"

You seal her lips with a prolonged kiss, dragging your lips against hers in a hypnotic passion, getting her to engage in something a bit longer than a lone kiss. She indulges without a second thought, slurping you up and tasting every inch of your-

A knock pounds your hearing and the door, adjourning the steamy makeout for a different time.

The voice behind the knocking calls out, "Yo, Ellie! You in there?" unmasking itself to be Jesse.

"Shit!" she yells, "Be right there!" and scurries off the bed, hunting for her under garments frantically.

You quickly bolt off the bed and swoop your undergarments, nearly toppling over as you shimmy your underwear on hurriedly but fortunate enough to catch your fall with some clamorous foot thumps to the wooden floor.

"What's goin' on in there? You fightin' a runner in there?" Jesse quips, his voice deadened by the walls.

"Ye- No!" Ellie stammers in a rush, managing to yank her jeans up and throw a bland white shirt over it, oblivious to the fact that it was inside-out, seams bulking and tag visible.

You were on the brink of raising a question to Ellie, but bite it back as she swings the door open and you cling to the closet adjacent to but behind the open door, not without a blow from your back against its rattling nature that had Ellie spooked for a split second.

"What're you doing here?" Ellie inquires, crossing her arms to appear unbothered.

"Heard you had quite a night after I left." His voice clarifies, streaming through the open door.

"It-" Her response defects, "She kissed me. Dina being Dina, it doesn't mean anything-"

"Wait, you kissed Dina?" Jesse interjects her reply, voice curving in curiosity.

"Oh, I thought-"

"We're broken up one week and you make a move on my girl?"

"No- She was the one- I don't even.." Ellie corners herself into a distraught state.

"I'm messing with you man, I don't care. I just swung by to tell you Maria switched up the assignments for tomorrow, you're up for more patrol."

"Seriously? I thought I'd get-"

"Hey why's your shirt inside out? Did you really get tangled up with a runner in there?" He jokingly peeks into the room, jolting back when Ellie's forearm bars him out randomly.

"None of your business, I get it now you can go." She sternly affirms, slowly creaking the door closed.

"What'chu hidin' in there?"

"Go!" Ellie strikes the door shut on his face, secretly flipping him off from the opposite site under the knob.

"Unholy fuck-"

"Next time try not to wake the dead with your footsteps!" She snaps back at you through an adorned smile, on edge from the unexpected, interrupting, visit.

"Like I said I can barely walk from your-"

Ellie strides up in a pacey fashion, cradling your head from the back in her palms, linking lips with yours soulfully.

You press your lips, dawdling with hers and soaking in the taste of breath and flesh. It feels so good to expose your love, animated for her in this moment now, like a singing felicity in your heart. She parts, engulfing you in her olive irises before she croaks.

"Say we.. get back to bed? I wanna show you my drawings.." A sugary murmur trampling her usually husky voice.

"Yeah.." you wriggle your lips in a creeping smirk, leveraging your weight from one leg to the other.

"C'mere." Ellie creaks before tackling you onto the bed, burying you with infinite ticklish kisses along your face, a declaration of unfiltered affection in her lasting intentions.

"Ellie! That tickles.."

"Good."

hope you enjoyed!!! <3

MASTERLIST

#ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams fic #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x fem!reader #ellie x reader #lesbian #sapphic #the last of us #the last of us 2 #wlw #jackson!ellie #ellie wiilliams x you #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie smut

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warcats-cat · 1 month ago

Text

Confinement

Summary: In Hermes’ incredibly correct and not at all humble opinion, humans should have stuck with horses, but then humans went off and invented cars. Awful... Hermes loved you; he really did. He adored you. But he loathed your car.

A/N: I'M ALIVE I SWEAR!!! I'm still writing for Hermes and this fandom!!! I love you all and I've MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH!!! TLDR - I was in a car accident right after my birthday at the beginning of April, and while I wasn't badly injured, I've been mentally all over the place since then. Recovery-Scatter-Brain and Stress-Scatter-Brain are real... ANYWAY the irony is that I have had this one written for like forever and I was gearing up to post it right before I had my accident. So I guess Hermes was just trying to warn me in his own loving, mysterious, mischievous way. Also I linked to a song within the fic; it is one of my favorites to sing and one I sang as a part of my Senior Recital when I graduated university; if you take the time to listen I really do hope you enjoy it! (ALSO also, because of this, the reader does refer to themself as 'female' but only in the context of the song!) I hope you guys enjoy this one and hopefully I will have another edited/polished and posted for you before the two month mark... as always please let me know if I've missed any tags and have a truly lovely day, darlings!!!

Read on Ao3 Here!

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In Hermes’ incredibly correct and not at all humble opinion, humans should have stuck with horses.

Really, it was the altogether better option, compared to other modes of transportation, although he'd never tell his uncle that. Especially now, in the ‘modern era’ as humans called it, when things like capitalism and pollution and climate change hung over humans’ heads like a guillotine.

Horses didn't need oil from hundreds of cubits underground; they could just graze the grasses around where they were. Horses still went pretty fast over land compared to walking. Horses didn't stink like death-plastic-smoke that was worse than Tartarus.

But humans had gone and invented cars.

Awful.

Sure, cars went fast. Not nearly as fast as him, but Hermes was the god of speed; nothing went as fast as him. Cars could go a lot faster than horses, and in America, where the land was so massive and everything spread out so far, Hermes supposed it was nice to get to the grocer as quickly as possible.

But cars were also considerably small.

Therein lay the problem.

He wasn't necessarily claustrophobic, but Hermes didn't like small spaces. He didn't like feeling trapped. And cars did exactly that - with heavy metal doors that slammed and locked like prison cells, rough, scraping straps that pinned one in place (for safety, of course, which he couldn't begrudge; but he didn't have to like it), uncomfortable seats that pretended to be the ‘luxury’ of real leather even though he could smell the oily plastic layered in to make it cheaper.

And the windows only made things worse somehow - opening them made the winds beat the inside of the car and the unfortunate rider’s ears, easily causing hearing damage with the constant concussion. He’d tried pushing his head out, once; curious at seeing some teens in a car ahead of them do so, but the same beating effect applied; making his eyes sting and his ears ring from the force of it.

He didn't even have that problem when he was flying.

Hermes loved you; he really did. He adored you. But he loathed your car.

“I could get us to the craft store a lot faster,” he said to you, the barest hint of a whine in his voice. If he played it just right, with a little pout and a little whine, maybe he could change your mind.

“You would have to carry me, not to mention anything we bought, and I don't want to lose my supplies in your bag-of-holding.” You replied, not even looking at his big, slightly watery puppy-eyes.

No luck…

He sighed, and let his face drop back to normal. At least he understood the reference you made this time - you’d called his messenger bag a bag-of-holding a few times before he asked about it; it was a bag, it was supposed to hold stuff? But you were referring to a game you liked to play on nights he was away; a special bag that could hold almost anything a person put inside it, and was nearly endless. He’d had to admit after that that it was a fair nickname.

And it wasn't necessarily that things got lost in his bag; he could call up any paper or item that was in it by just thinking about it. It was that he could conveniently forget to grab some things back out. Or slip things in to hide them for later.

He was the god of thieves and master of tricks. Sue him.

He stared down the door handle of your car as if he could make it cower like a mortal he disliked. You slipped easily into the driver's seat and grinned at him; the cute, slightly devilish grin that he loved so much. Damn.

Hermes grumbled a Greek swear and submitted himself to the confinement.

Thankfully, you weren't an overly cautious driver going 10 under the speed limit.

The drive would take approximately 20 minutes; 18 if you pushed the speed limit a little and 16 if you managed to pass through the traffic lights without them turning red. Ugh. Traffic lights.

When horses had to cross a road, they could just go across. You didn't have to worry about being catastrophically slammed into from the side because horses had brains. …most of the time…

Hermes clicked the seatbelt into place. His feathers ruffled as he shuddered, but he felt your hand slip into his and squeeze in sympathy, and that made it a little better. The car rumbled under his feet like an angry animal as it started, and you began the drive, switching on the radio as it connected to the phone in your pocket.

Frankly, there was only one reason Hermes tolerated car rides at all.

“When I was a girl, I had a favorite story...”

Every time, he got to hear you sing.

“Of the meadowlark who lives where the rivers wind…”

In Hermes' very correct and not so humble opinion, you had the most beautiful voice. And he bragged to Apollo about you all the time, how he had found you and won your heart before the sun god even heard a single note. Hermes loved listening to you sing - singing along to movies you watched, singing quietly while you worked on a project, and yes, even singing in the car.

Car singing was the second-best singing, only because you weren't afraid to be loud . Your voice filled the little space with warmth, wrapped around Hermes like a safety blanket. If you had to stop at a traffic light, you liked to wiggle in your seat like a little dance. It felt like a secret, shared only between the two of you; the little moments he tucked away in his memory like shining jewels.

And you sang everything - regardless of the original musician’s gender. Musical Theater tended to be your favorite, but your phone shuffled through rock songs and pop songs and a few electronic melodies; indy and songs about video games and even (very rarely) a country song you said you kept because it was silly. Hamilton, and SpongeBob; Wicked, and Phantom of the Opera. Lately, you’d been fixating a bit on some songs from Next to Normal that made you tear up as you sang, and Hermes would reach over and pat your shoulder or take your hand, knowing that the music meant more to you than he could really understand. Songs full of stories that you knew by heart and told to yourself (and him) over and over again.

It felt extra special, sometimes; knowing that you were comfortable enough to sing with him around. Apollo had asked, several times now, but you had stammered and said you hadn't done any warm-ups and didn't know what he would like; maybe some other time. You’d confided in Hermes after the third time; for anyone else, it felt like a high stakes audition, especially for the ‘literal god of music’ as you had said. But Hermes made you feel comfortable, like you were singing with him, even though most of the time he wasn't actually singing; he joined in subtler ways. His head bobbed and swayed along to your music, and occasionally his wings ruffled and flapped for a particularly high or long or powerful note, and he savored every single second of it.

And then all too soon the show was cut short, as you slowed to a stop in the little store's parking lot, and Hermes became aware once again of the sensation of being trapped.

He all but ripped the seat belt apart - he actually had ripped the seat belt the first time, which you had been very upset about. He hadn't meant to, and thankfully you understood after an explanation (and when he offered to pay to fix the car - a full “work up” as you said. He’d kinda shrugged it off; money was a mortal thing.)

This time, he was out of the car before the belt had the chance to fully retract back into its hiding place, hopping a little from foot to foot to shake the phantom feelings of chains. You gave him a look of apology, and offered a hug, which he graciously accepted.

Finally, after a minute to fix his sunglasses and steal your hand for holding, the pair of you headed inside the craft store.

And if he slipped a few things that you seemed to like into his bag when you put them back down upon seeing the prices, well. That was his own little secret. He just couldn't resist the way your eyes glittered when he gave you presents.

You didn't need to know where they came from…

(If you enjoyed, please reblog!!)

#warcats writes #hermes x reader #hermes epic the musical #epic hermes #reader insert #gender neutral reader #epic the musical #epic the musical x reader #ask to tag #another one i have no idea what to tag #driving #implied claustrophobia #claustrophobia #cars #Hermes' POV

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 9 months ago

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*gets on one knee and takes out a ringpop* Mr. Honest, I hereby humbly request consideration to be your one your only your Fellowife for life.

So tell me, do you wanna go?

“Whoa there! Stand up, bud—you’re embarrassin’ yourself.” Fellow grabbed you by the arm and yanked you back onto your feet.

(He quietly slipped the ring pop from your fingers and pocketed it. Thankfully, the massive red sugar crystal was dry and did not stick to his suit. Gidel would surely enjoy the sweet treat at a later time.)

More importantly, they're callin' too much attention to me! I can't exactly lift wallets if the people passing by are on high alert.

“Anyway, what’s this about ‘Fellowives’? First time I'm hearing of it."

“Y’see, sir!" you offered excitedly. "It's sort of like a fan club. We come together online to talk about how much we adore you, make creations in your name, that sort of thing."

“I’ve got a fan club?!” His voice spiked, turning almost shrill at fan club. “Why didn't you say sooner?! I'd very much like to meet and greet all of you."

Thaumark signs were already swimming in his eyes.

Th-This is a gold mine for passive income! If I can get in on this scheme, charge a monthly premium for membership... I could make it big on these suckers!!

"O-Oh! Really, sir?!" you asked hopefully, tearfully clasping your hands together.

"Of course, of course! There's plenty of me to go around, so no need to push and shove." An arm snaked around you, gripping onto your arm and roping you close. He jabbed a finger to your chest. “I just get the feelin’ we’ll all be the closest of chums!”

#twst x reader #Fellow Honest x Reader #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Ernesto Foulworth #Reader #self insert #a fellow in need is a friend indeed #twst interactions #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland interactions

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acesw · 8 months ago

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Knowing our Arcanists 5: Tennant

Welcome to entry five of my series: "Knowing our Arcanists"! This is a series in which I introduce and tell the stories of our fellow characters in Reverse: 1999. Today we have: Tennant!

My god, its everyone's favorite lesbian and scammer. This woman is partially why I got into Reverse: 1999 in the first place, and she's probably the reason why a good chunk of the fandom started playing during launch. But anyways, lets get started.

Ada Tennant was born in Birmingham, UK on September 8th in the 1920s. She became more active in the 40s as a notable socialite and scammer, using her arcane skill in which she's able to transform anything of lesser value (like coal) into diamonds.

She grew up as part of the House of Tennant, a famous and wealthy arcanist family in the 20s-30s. Her father, Laurence Tennant, was a senior official mineralogist who managed diamond mining, identification, and transportation for British India. For some time, Ada lived in New Delhi, India, to be close with her father.

In 1937, Laurence went missing, accused of stealing a batch of diamonds and replacing them with disguised coal through his arcane skill. Over the course of the investigation, Ada—a teenager at the time—was put under long-term surveillance by the British Indian Army for a year, before she ran away herself and disappeared in 1938.

Recently after her disappearance, there have been reports about arcanum-related thefts where batches of diamonds are being stolen and replaced with charcoal with arcane skills. Its likely that Ada had moved to Paris.

Since then, Ada started going by her family name Tennant, and has become a lot more active as a merchant and scammer. She became the talk of the town, being well-loved by many wealthy women and being an interest of many wealthy men.

It should be noted that its clear that Tennant has a higher romantic interest in women, as she's mainly flirtatious with them. She has a bit of respect for the male clients around her; at the same time, she's a gentlewoman. She knows how to please all the hearts and minds of the women around her, and is not afraid to use such to her advantage.

She attended and hosted many banquets and struck deals with many clients over time. Many left their fortunes with her, and she simply replies with her usual tricks. To successfully lie is an art, and Tennant is good at it.

Tennant is no doubt very charming and a very well-mannered person. She's skilled in her social capabilities and can talk and flirt her way to people's desires. But don't let such make you disregard her humility. She holds value to her "humble" beginnings and her own worth as a person, having a bit less care for luxury when it comes to human connection.

Despite this, she knows luxury when she sees it, and will leave a comment or two about it as she's knowledgeable on the subject. Her knowledge brings her quite far, knowing when to compliment or when to give advice for those who share her sense of style.

She's also a clean person, being considerate of the people around her, and maintains her health and style to be at its best. These won't prevent her for carrying a gun for obvious reasons, but she'll handle it and her clothes with care.

At the same time, you also can't let Tennant's flattery fool you. She's incredibly clever and deceptive, making intricate ways to scam others and leave with no trace. She'll be impressed when one can figure her out, maybe a bit disappointed when her tricks fail.

But overall, her intentions are difficult to predict and read. If she can find that one shares the same skill level as her, she'll also be quite impressed of such capability.

Speaking of which, Tennant is not very easy to manipulate back, as she will do anything to find the very truth she'll want to know. Whether she will sweet-talk into your heart, or break it for you to see the consequences.

#reverse 1999 #knowing our arcanists #tennant reverse 1999 #of course i'll doubt anyone would follow such warnings #you're all gay #also she wasn't supposed to come up today #but i didn't realize til after i wrote this

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livelaughlovesubs · 1 year ago

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oooh jjk men with a masc, androgynous gf who wears their clothes bfkwbfkwen

OHHH SOUNDS GREAT but there are so many Jjk men, so I won’t list all of them. Feel free to request for more after the first of June

Jjk x androgyn/ masc leaning reader

Features: gojo, Geto, Choso, Nanami, Toji

So to get this straight, I think most of them wouldn’t mind you stealing their clothes, as long as you do give it back someday. But Gojo? He’s filthy rich anyway, he doesn’t give a damn. Keep them if you want, he can just buy new ones. Heck, he might even start matching the clothes he buys with your style! An indirect way of gifting you new things. If you confronted him about it, he’d just say he changed styles. This is surprisingly considerate of him, isn’t it? Well to be honest, he just likes the thought of you wearing things he brought. Or basically bathing in his property (money). Also if you likes it, he’d definitely support you.

Geto had a short period where he was pretty broke, after he quit his career as a sorcerer. (My headcanon at least) This led to him only borrowing his clothes to you. He’s not being petty or something, cuz he has money now. It has just become a habit. Anyway his closet has many traditional clothes, but also comfortable street wears. Most of it is black though, so if you like other colours too.. Welp. And he wears a lot of baggy pants, so if you are not as tall as him, they might not fit. I think he’d find it quite endearing if you dressed up in the same theme as him, or tried his clothes on like you were shopping for new ones.

Choso only has that one outfit. Don’t take it away from him pls. (Sorry not sorry). But let’s assume he has more or whatever. Literally would not care unless there aren’t any clothes left for him. Then he’d mention it to you, about how if you don’t bring them back he won’t go out anymore. Up until that point though, yea, he wouldn’t mind. That guy’s chill with you stealing them. To be honest he isn’t that knowledgeable about society’s norms for genders. So if you are a woman, dressing very masculine or tomboyish, he’s not think anything about it. The same other way around. Bro’s been locked up for so long, as if he knows anything about ‘how to be a REAL girl’, or ‘how to be an Alpha sigma male’.

Nanami would actually be annoyed at times, cuz he put them away so clean-ly, folding and storing them away with order. Then you just make a mess, take it all out and throw it onto the bed or over a chair after you are done. He wouldn’t mind it too much anymore if you put everything back onto their previous place. But he didn’t gave you permission to use his clothes, did he? (he never told you to stop neither.) In my humble opinion, I imagine he’d teach you how to dress clean, in case you didn’t know. Like tying a tie in ten different ways, or what shoes fits which dress shirt. Otherwise he’s all about ‘do what you want, I literally don’t care as long as you don’t disrupt me’.

Same as Choso, but without plausible excuses, Toji also only has one outfit that he wears everyday. He literally got those 3 dollar flats at a second hand shop or stole them. His only excuse is his wife died, him being homeless and broke are not good reasons. Anyway, if this man did own a few more shirts and pants, he’d say something along the lines of, “take them off, they aren’t yours,” or, “the fuck are you doing???” Though like, if you said no and that you want to keep wearing it, he would grimace but not stress it further. As long as you won’t steal them and keep his clothes for yourself, he needs them too. Sometimes it would remind him of some past memories, and he won’t be able to hold back a soft smile.

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writingmeraki · 2 years ago

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cold enough to chill my bones.

a roronoa zoro drabble !

pairing : zoro x gn!reader, teasing frenemies to ???

genre : fluff, romance, they like each other but aren't dating...yet.

warnings : not any i can think of! if you find anything alarming then lmk :)

author's note : enjoy this quick drabble while you wait for the first chapter of the zoro series!! and also i got the idea to make after i got almost sick last night- maybe zoro is a bit of ooc? idk i just love the idea of him being a menace while flirting but not knowing what to do when someone flirts back at him lololol let me know what you think ! <3

word count : 1k

Despite the sun almost blinding you as it set, the sky turning into shades of deep pink intertwined with light purple and hints of yellowish orange, you felt cold.

Naturally, you'd always been the type to get cold easily, quite literally. Before even the harsh winters used to begin, you'd be getting the chills amid the warm autumn.

Though. it was beneficial when it was the blazing summer and you were always not on the brink of dying due to the immense heat as your cooler hands and feet made you more comfortable.

But today, it was a bane to your existence as your teeth chattered as you sat down on the lounging chair in the middle of the ship, trying to rub your hands to bring life back to them.

“Seems like someone can’t even take the fall breeze huh?”

The familiar voice taunted you and you didn’t even need to look at him to know he was probably smirking as he looked down at you.

Sighing in annoyance, you faced Zoro and clicked your tongue when you were right about him smirking.

It was a tad bit distracting though, especially since he looked too…attractive than you’d like to admit.

“If you’re here to taunt me then leave me be.”

“The weather is annoying enough anyways, I don’t need another nuisance.” Not wanting to entertain him today, you turned your back towards him and faced the sunset.

Too bad it was such a beauty but your body wasn’t allowing you to just simply be in bliss to enjoy it.

Suddenly you felt a heavy weight on your shoulders, which took you by surprise as you flinched to stand up and yelped loudly.

“Calm down idiot, it’s just a jacket,” Zoro said as it was his turn to roll his eyes,

“For the record, I didn’t come to ‘annoy’ you as you said which is quite ironic coming from you but I saw you shivering like a drenched cat,”

“So me being the considerate person I am,” You scoffed at his humble attitude which he chose to ignore, “I’ll let you wear my jacket for the time being.”

Honestly, you were confused. Zoro was a confusing man you‘d concluded. Since the time you’d joined the crew, he’d been confusing you by saying something different, different as in finding every way to taunt you but then he’d be nice as a true gentleman with his actions.

Like right now for example.

So ultimately, you were confused about how to thank him.

“Uh…thank you?” You’d thought it was best to just say it, figuring it was enough as you pushed your arms throughout the black clothing that was a tad bit larger than you.

Of course, it was larger near the shoulders, enough to fit almost two of you inside.

“That’s it? That’s how you thank me? You know I almost saved you from I don’t know shivering to death here?”

You sighed, now in exhaustion at his over-exaggeration, it wasn’t like if he hadn’t helped, you’d have not gotten up yourself and gone into the kitchen since it was usually always warmer as Sanji was always cooking something and the heat was always bubbling there.

He tsked at your sighing and supposedly unappreciative attitude, ready to go on a rant about how people nowadays never appreciated the little things and whatever.

When suddenly you got an idea.

“-sometimes even if a gesture may be less, you should sti-” You shut him up by leaning forward, on your tiptoes and pulled him by his yellow shirt closer to you, landing your lips on his surprisingly soft ones.

That oughta shut him up.

You pulled away in about three seconds, eyes shut as you just relished how soft they were and how right you’d been about them being like this from the countless times you’d imagined kissing him.

When you pulled away, you saw something you didn’t think you’d have seen anytime soon.

Zoro was red, a bit wide-eyed as he stared at you, not speaking another word, his cheeks highlighted with a blush that was familiar to you in a way it was something you’d always experience whenever you’d check him out for too long.

“Sooo is that enough for a thank you?” You smirked at him tauntingly, thriving in the way he was speechless, happy he could feel how you felt at times when he decided to shamelessly be a menace, a cute one, at that.

“Now if you excuse me, I have some work to do.” Turning around, you didn’t say anything else as you tried to hide your giggles recalling his comical expression of astonishment.

“YOU CAN’T JUST DO THAT!” After a few moments of gathering his thoughts, Zoro was able to form a proper reaction.

“I deserve more than a peck! Kiss me like you mean it-” You burst out into giggles now at the way he was whining as you shook your head abruptly turning around to face him when he began to follow you.

“For that you have to earn your way to it!” You mocked him, pocking your tongue out as he glared at you, now crossing his arms.

“Are you seriously messing around with the Roronoan Zoro, demon pirate hunter?”

You rolled your eyes at his seemingly serious tone but you knew he was playing into the little thing you’d created as his lips twitched, trying to hide his grin.

You grinned widely at him, now your dimples peaking out,

“Ohh if you are the pirate hunter, you’ll have to catch me first to get your treasure!”

As cheesy and cringy as it was, you caught him off guard as you turned around and ran, figuring the place to run to was likely the kitchen in the confined space you had.

“HEY! Now you’re just cheating!” You heard him shout behind to which caused more giggles,which left your cheeks aching from how widely you’d been smiling.

Admittedly, the once cold you’d been feeling was now replaced by the warmth unknowingly yet knowingly caused by the oh-so-famous pirate hunter.

Maybe he did deserve a proper thank you afterall huh?

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri.do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest. I don't own any of the characters from the movie, rightfully belonging to One Piece creators and the Netflix franchise and also this is a fictional work, not relating to any of the cast in real life.

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wakacreations · 8 months ago

Text

Raphael: One Drunken Night

Author's Note:

I write more angst than fluff pieces. I thought I should remedy that a bit. As much as i love writing some drama sometimes it is nice to enjoy some fluff once in awhile. Well write a more lighter piece compared to how I usually write. Anyways enjoy!

If you favor AO3

Word Count: 3866

Summary:

What is there to fill the air when silence stretches far longer than you wish? A promise is kept. Expectations are high. A reunion made between two fools. What is the harm in a meeting between a devil and his former client? Reconciliation is never easy but drinking down a bottle makes the truth easier to swallow at least for the devil.

“Are you going to run off, little mouse?” The devil polished off his whiskey. “Frankly, I should. There are better ways I could be spending my time.” You rose from the table. Raphael sneered forgoing his glass to drink directly from the bottle. “Take some consideration of my humble offer. Haven't I've been nothing but generous since our time together many moons ago. Didn't we spend a wonderful time together hmm,” his voice grew rich and warm inviting you to reconsider. With a snap of his fingers the tavern went silent. The patrons paid no mind to you. Drinking merrily and laughing about, continuing on as if you two were far removed from their reality.

“Better to serve a greater purpose with that freedom than to waste away your precious talents,” his gaze darkened. Korrilla, I am sorry but I can’t stand babysitting him not tonight. “Yet I have heard nothing from you and you have the gull to tell me to save you from whatever shit you've dug yourself into. Find your own way home,” you stormed your way out from the tavern. “We are not finished with our discussion!” His voice died in the wind. The rush of the cool night’s air greeting you as the Elfsong drew further away.

Screw him and whatever else he decided to play savior of. “Mouse,” he growled. The crunching of dried dirt under a boot echoed as you walked. “Fuck off! Go harass the others with your contracts. You did a damn good job at doing just that for those other clients of yours!” The jiggle of bells grew louder. “You think that will scare me, Raphael!? I am done!” You ran towards the doors of your home, rattling the hinges off when you furiously shut it behind you. The sound of bells all gone silent. “Fuck him. Why did I think- Why am I stupid? Why am I so stupid,” throwing off your clothes as you made your way into the bath. He thinks he can just throw petty insults at me when he was the one who failed to keep hold of that stupid crown. The steamy mist enveloped you.

We are equals, you and I. What are we but champions of our own fate?

The scalding water's droplets batted against your aching back.

I like you in my own ways. Come little mouse, don’t fret I will always be here till your very end. I will come back to you my dear, what am I but a devil of his word.

He was the one who made me think, made me believe that. How could he just simply vanish? Were we so insignificant?

Why did I believe there was anything more?

Stepping out, you made your way to the mirror. Forget it. Forget him. Wiping off the foggy glass. Tonight was supposed to be a simple evening to catch up on the time long passed. Korrilla had snuck letters keeping up with the whereabouts and happenings of her patron. Apparently Raphael was mentally spiraling when Mephistopheles reclaimed the crown once again. How could he have failed?

Much has changed in only half a decade as you peered at yourself in the glass, tracing your fingers on the tired lines of the time that had gone. Did our time together mean nothing?

I will come back to you, little mouse. When I do, we'll dine.

You made your way into the bedroom and slipped into an old white tunic.

It's not often that a devil offers a favor for a former client but for you, anything.

You've kept your promise to meet, Raphael. Settling in for the night you reached into your nightstand feeling for the cool glass bottle. I am just a fool to wish for this night to turn out differently. At least I will get some rest pulling the cork of the Angelic Slumber. You raised the glass to your lips. Maybe I am the only one who wants that to.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound emanates from your bedroom door. Your hand moved towards your nightstand grabbing the dagger you've tucked away. Gripping the blade tight you quietly patted your way to the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Mouse…? Tav? May I come in?” His voice was all gruff. The door shook slightly but there was no movement on the door handle. “You know I've missed you, that is for certain.” You heard an audible clink of glass. “We never did talk about you in our earlier discussion.” There was a tiredness to how he spoke. Was it even worth seeing him now? “How are you, my dear mouse?” You remained silent. “I know you're there, Mouse. You left a clear trail to follow.” Would he force his way in?

Knock. Knock.

Would I care if he broke the door?

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

I'm going back to bed.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Hello little mouse.” There stood the disheveled devil. “Get out,” you held the door ajar. Anyone would have mistaken him for another penniless noble. His once fine doublet torn and mangled hung open, undershirt covered in stains haphazardly buttoned up, hair all tussled from its usual neat arrangement, face unshaven cheeks reddened as he holds a whiskey bottle in hand. There he was now same appearance before you, how you found him in the tavern. “My my you always held a temper,” taking a drink from his bottle. “Leave,” you moved to shut the door. “Wait,” his hand blocked you. You pushed more of your weight into the door. “I can't,” he growled. “Bullshit, snap your fingers and fuck off.” He forced the door open, throwing you back. Your head bounced off the floor with an audible thud. “Fuck!” Tears welled up as you felt the pounding radiating in your skull.

You groaned as you clutched your head. “Must you be so vulgar?” Towering over you his silhouette stretched against the walls, a flicker of gold diminished when he gazed down at you, his body swaying. “Wasn't this to be a happy reunion?” He bends down on one knee. “Are you hurt?” His hand clumsily reaches out to you. “Don't touch me,” swatting his hand. “Let me, mouse,” Raphael pleaded as he continued once more. You trembled as his hand grew closer. Your eyes flickered to the dagger within reach.

“Okay."

Gently he places his hand to the back of your head, cool soft waves eased away the throbbing in your skull. A satisfied smile graced his lips. His eyes traced the worn walls of your bedroom. “This place hadn't changed at all since I was last here all those years ago.” He held his hand out to you. Your gazed hardened as he made no movement to stand blocking you from rising without his assistance. “A truce for now save for the morning,” he nodded. Sighing, you took his hand once more. This was always the game you two had played.

With a tug he brought you to his chest. “I would take more than a mere dagger to end me,” he spoke into your ear, body leaning against yours for support. The click of his fingers and the smell of smoke filled your nostrils. The blade was surely gone. "You need concentration to teleport between planes as you can see I am inebriated,” he mumbled, you froze when his arms came around to hold you. Well that is.. unexpected… “I can send for Korrilla,” you swallowed. Resting his chin atop your head he took a deep inhale. “Don't bother with her,” he exhaled, body going lax against you. “I'll be fine when the morning comes.” What am I to do with you? Tentatively your hands moved to encircle his waist. Would this be alright? You leaned into his chest.

“Would you prefer I take you to the Devil's Den?” This was going to be a long night. “Trying to be rid of me, Mouse? I don’t blame you. No, I much prefer your dwellings as I have done before.” He gave you a tight squeeze. The smell of his musk filled your nostrils. “I missed you, Tav.” The heady mix of cherries, whiskey and his perspiration, your heart stirred recalling what used to be. What used to feel like home. You sighed into him. “You're too cruel, Raphael.” A dark chuckle rumbles in his chest. “You call me cruel and yet, you are the one that declined my offer to have a place for you in my Hells.”

What is there left for you in Faerun my dear little mouse? Won't you humbly accept my offer? What fun you would have here playing the hero once more. His final offer to you as you handed him the crown.

“I wouldn't have been free,” you whispered. He stiffened at your truth. “No, no you wouldn't be my dear… but what I offered you is the power of freedom. Whatever be your sole desires,” he purred. “The freedom to choose. The illusion of my own free will. Free to wander about only if you allow it,” moving your head back to look at him. “I know your games, devil.” The slight flicker of Hellfire danced alight in his warm brown eyes. A smirk spread across his face, approval. “You were always a clever little thing,” his hand came to hold your chin. Gaze wandering to study your features like a delicate work of art.

“You were always one of my favorite clients. Especially for that tongue of yours,” moving his head in closer to recall your face to memory. “I have always indulged in you, little mouse. I have to admit.” His body swayed against yours. The warmth of his breath brushed your lips. “I did confess my truth to you and yet you have not given your own admission…” Your breathing hitched as his thumb traced your bottom lip. “Don't you miss me,” tilting his head with a knowing smile. Shaking your head free from his hold, “it’s late you can have the bed.” Letting go of his waist to push him away.

“Such a gracious host. A host is always one to accommodate.” he grinned. “You see I’ll be needing your assistance to the bed,” draping his arms over your shoulders. “I hope you don't mind,” leaning his full weight onto you. “Raphael,” you gritted between your teeth as you steadied yourself. “What is that, little mouse? You must speak up. Has no one told you it is impolite to mumble your words,” pushing more of his weight onto you. The two of you stumbled back towards the bed. “Asshole,” you breathed as he smothered you.

“That is no way for you to treat a guest in your own home but thank you for your generosity,” bracing his arms beside your face. You took in shallow breaths as the uncomfortable weight of him pressed on your chest. “Raphael get off,” you groaned. “Usually there is more foreplay before we get to that part my dear,” taking in your glare from beneath him. "Don't you miss this? Our little games?" Dropping his head to whisper those silken words into your ear. You turned your head away from him. “You are not going to fight, little mouse?” There was no point in struggling while he had you pinned. “Why is that,” he tsked. You laid there silently, closing your eyes. His soft breath against your skin.

He’ll grow bored. Just breathe. You felt his hardened stare watching the blood rise to the surface. “Silence won’t grant you peace.” You took an unlabored breath in. “We both agreed to a truce. Dawn is not upon us just yet,” hearing him gulp down the last of his bottle. Still you didn’t respond, steading your heart. “Not in the mood for our usual games? That is a bit disappointing but to be expected. Anything but would be foolish.” The bed creaked beside you. The click of glass settled down on a hard surface. “I suppose we both have trouble sleeping, given you have this potion open,” he chuckled dryly. The jiggle of bells moved through the room, the accompanying whine of the wardrobe opening and shutting.

“Take the bed, Mouse. It is rude for a guest to sleep on the bed the host slumbers upon.” The slight wind of soft wool settles onto your limbs. “If you are to chastise me for that statement. I do not view you as just a mere guest in my home.” The rustle of fabrics and the padding of pillows filled the air. The rattling of the window and the batting of winds amplified the quietness that hung between you. Cautiously you opened your eyes. The devil’s back was towards you laying on his side in a bedding of furs on the floor. You slowly sat up from your bed.

“You were right, you know, for not following me back into the Hells.” He fluffed the pillow in his hands. “There were many dangers present there that would derive no greater pleasure than to take that coin buried in your chest,” he sighed. “I would never let anything befall you, Tav. You are mine, you know…” His back muscles tensed underneath his undershirt. “I knew about your correspondence with Korrilla. There is nothing she could keep from me if I need but ask. You could have called to me, Mouse if you were so curious.” He laid still, holding the pillow close.

“You think I enjoyed half a decade of silence from you,” his voice gone rough. How could he say such a thing when...?

“You did just the same,” settling into your bed. How many times did you spend awake thinking is he alright? The silent cool nights alone second guessing of what could have been? For a deal that was never fair to begin with.

“That. That I did but no one enjoys a devil to come knocking on their door. I have done this line of work far longer than your family line's existence.”

No, you’re wrong Raphael. Wait. Does he really? Is that true?

“I went over your family records,” he said simply. “Oh,” you shifted uncomfortably. How am I supposed to respond to that? “It is my standard procedure when I deal with potential clients. All to better secure a contract with them if they are to seek some infernal guidance.” You stared into his back.

“That is not something to fault me for, little mouse. I am doing what is within my nature. You behave just the same,” he sighed. “I waited for your call but you never did. No matter how much you pried into my life in the Hells. You did not stay away from me. What am I left to think?” He turned over to face you. Your cheeks reddened at his smoldering gaze. The glimmer of gold lingered under his watch as you took in a sharp breath in.

“Haven’t you sent Korrilla to watch me, Raphael?” Though the warlock was peculiarity ready to appear when summoned or to have receive a timely letter from. “No, not particularly. No. But if she were to be passing close by enroute while running my tasks, there is no harm on her part in checking on a former client.” He propped himself up on an elbow. “That is hard to believe. You haven't meddled in some way.” The devil raised a brow, “would that truly be hard to believe that others would enjoy your company?” You flushed, pulling the covers higher over yourself. “No, that's not hard to believe,” you mumbled. “Hmm…” You peeked over to look at the devil. His eyes were closed.

“If there is anything you wish to know, speak your mind.” You blinked at him unsure on where to begin. "Are you tired, Raphael?” Maybe it’s about time to- “Depends on what manner do you refer to,” interrupting your train of thought. “Physically no, not at all. In the manner concerning my mental outlook potentially… but all is not lost.” That is a more thorough answer than you expected. “Oh, alright.” You two laid in silence.

The idle sounds of the wind howling outside the window. The syncopated breaths you two inhaled. The drumming of your heart beating within your ears. Who could rest like this? Your hand reaches for your potion but would this be the last you would see of him. “Raphael?” Curiosity killed the cat but not the mouse. “Yes, little mouse?” Better now than later. “How did you lose the crown?” My last parting gift to you and you lose it. The devil flinched, frozen in thought for a moment. “You always were one to wield your curiosity like a dagger,” clicking his tongue. “How did you lose the crown,” rolling the words on his tongue in contemplation of your request. “I will sate that dangerous curiosity of yours as this is the night of truths. As the one who handed me the crown… in fairness you have the right to know.”

Taking a bated breath in, “I held few allies,” he said sharply. Tilting your head. Was that really just it? That’s… underwhelming. “Power, control and fear are all necessary to rule in the Hells. Being ruthlessly ambitious will spur you further on in a long bloodied campaign but when you are left surrounded who could you rely on should plans falter.” His nose scrunched up at the unpleasant thought. “So, this was what you must of felt when you came close for your world to end.” Raphael reopened his eyes. “How welcoming must have been for you, to have a savior waiting in your final moments. When I came for you.” There was a small stir in his eyes when he met yours, quickly shutting them.

“Foolishly I imagine if you were with me in the Hells would the outcome be more favorable,” throat gone dry. Was that the only reason why Raphael? Was that the whole truth? “What happened next?” You lowered the covers. “Haarlep presented the crown to him. I was sent to hang on his hooks exposed to the cold of Cania. He found the whole act amusing,” gritting his teeth. “Nevertheless Korrilla returned to me and provided the means for my escape. I am left to start at the beginning once more.” Why? “Why didn't you send for me? You knew you were in peril? Why hadn't-” Your voice wavered, eyes gone misty.

“Korrilla’s orders were not to disturb you less she loses her pact for any interactions that would require you to be in the Hells,” he growled. “Why?” He couldn’t be serious.. Your knuckles turned pale as you clenched your blanket. “You wished to be free from the Hells. Why should I concern you in any manner outside of our past deals, mouse,” he scoffed, turning away.

“Then why did you offer me another contract?”

“Why did you attend tonight?”

Tension was alive and well in the air.

“You are to answer first, Tav.” What could I even say? “I kept our promise to see each other,” turning your back to the devil. “Why a contract, Raphael,” peeking at him over your shoulder. “I needed your guaranteed cooperation. What is more powerful than a contract?” He shrugged. What else could he have expected? “Trust. Simply trust. Contracts can be broken and the original can never be repaired.” You stared up at the ceiling. Are we meant to be just that? An obligation beholden to each other? The devil remained silent contemplating your words. “I could have thrown you out of my home. You know.” Rustling came from the floor. “I knew that you wouldn’t, little mouse. You don’t have the heart to." Shaking your head, “how could you be so sure? People change. It’s been five years since the last we’ve spoken.” How much had time gone?

The devil cleared his throat. “You came.” You raised a brow. “I was the one under the obligation to attend. You could walk freely away and not accept.” Did he really believe… “You expected me to not show,” sitting up. “You did not take my last contract... Whatever else could I be made to believe," his words hung in the air. There was a tightness in your chest. You took a shaky breath in, allowing your face to fall into your palms.

“You need but ask, Raphael,” looking down at where he laid. “You declined me again and again, Tav,” pulling up his blanket against a cold chill. “Ask again.” You swung your legs off the bed. “What,” a tilt of uncertainty edged his tone. “Ask again,” you insisted. ��Of what?” The air grew still. “To help you.” The devil stilled for a moment but continued on, “My offer still stands, Mouse,” he gritted out. “No, not that,” you huffed. “Then be out with it! Be forth-” Turning over to see you. “coming,” he swallowed as you laid beside him. What am I even doing?

“What manner of place is this? What trouble has the cat all worn and the fox is in need of a mouse?” What am I even saying? “Am I an old friend potentially, a fool conceivably but a savior once more that is yet to be certain,” your confidence falters. “I… have an offer. A gift for old time's sake.” Your hand trembled as you reached out to hold his reddened face. His pupils grew wide at your touch. “What is a new beginning but an opportunity to start anew?” His eyes search wildly within your gaze for your intentions. “What are we but champions of our own fate,” stroking his cheek. “What is one last performance to a mouse but I have one request.” You feel the pull of his smile in your hand.

“What is it, little mouse?” His hand moves a lock of hair to behind your ear. “Let's be equals for our final act together,” you smiled. The warmth of his hand moves to the back of your head. His eyes closed as he brought you in close to pressed a soft tender kiss to your forehead, “that's a deal.” Your eyes reflected his own. He extends a wide open arm for you. “Is this not enough invitation?” You pressed yourself into the devil you know. His arms pull you in for your bodies to mold into each other.

“You still have a couple of questions to answer for, mouse,” bunting his head against yours. “What is there for me to answer?” You drummed your fingers against his jaw. “Why did you never seek for me?” He slowly blinked at you. “Was I not just a means to an end?” Wasn’t that what we were? Your lower lip quivered. “That is the fate of mortals and devils.” You wanted to look away. You wanted to squirm away from his hold and yet.. his presence was a familiar comfort that you longed for. “I am no mere devil and you no mere mortal,” he chuckled. How could he look so at ease? “Did you fear what we could become, Tav?” The movement of your hand stilled. “For a time, yes.” Who wouldn't fear a devil. “What of now?” You shivered from the chilling air. “I don't know. There is just much to think about.” Maybe fear but not only just that. He pulled up a blanket to cover you both. “Sleep now, little mouse. The morning will come,” shutting his eyes.

“Raphael?” You felt your eyelids grow heavy. “Yes, mouse,” he yawned. “Will you be gone by the morning?” When was the last time this place felt so warm? “Do you wish for the devil to be gone,” he gave you a squeeze. “No. Not at all,” you confessed. “Then I'll be here when you wake. Goodnight my little mouse,” he breathed. The howling of winds have subsided. Moonlight streamed through the window casting overhead. The steady snores that rumbled from the devilish bastard. You couldn’t help but quietly chuckle to yourself.

“I'll answer that last question of yours devil,” reaching out to brush back a hair into place. What are we but a mortal and a devil. Two beings that indulge in each other's desires but not their own. “I missed you, Raphael.” Trapped in our own personal Hells. What we are is a foolish pair. “Goodnight my precious devil." Your eyes come to rest. Tomorrow we'll weather through the Hells together. When the morning comes we won't be alone.

#bg3 #raphael bg3 #raphael bg3 x reader #raphael x tav #raphael the cambion #bg3 raphael #wakacreations writes

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teez-the-time · 1 year ago

Text

Strawberries and Wine

Pairing: Consort! Seonghwa x Emperor! Fem! Reader

Genre: fantasy, romance, smut

Synopsis: as an Emperor, you liked to indulge in the pleasantries of life. The shiniest jewels, the best wines, the tastiest delicacies. But in the years of your reign, you had never found something as exquisite as the lips of Park Seonghwa.

Warnings: switch! lean dom! reader, switch! sub lean! Seonghwa, masturbation (f and m receiving), oral sex (f), breast play, piv sex, riding, dry humping, grinding, a lil food play, alcohol consumption (no drunk characters), pretty vanilla actually, body wordship, my characters are whipped as usual, pls tell me if I miss something

Wc: 9.1k

Taglist: none

A/N. What's this? Me actually posting a fic? Make a wish, people, cause a miracle has happened. Anyway, I humbly offer you this Hwa x reader fic, I hope you enjoy it. Please pretend that I actually know how to write smut and that I don't suck at it. Also, let's pretend this isn't totally inspired by the Webtoon, "Men of the Harem". Go read it if you haven't. Any like, comment, message, reblog, etc. is highly appreciated. My DMs are open as always. See you later!

XOXO

-May

“I believe that was the last engagement for the day, Your Majesty,” your trustworthy secretary, Marquis Kim Hongjoong, announced.

You rolled back your neck, releasing little pops of accumulated stress from the long day. Your eyes almost cried in relief when you closed them for more than a couple of seconds, having been subjected to the harsh candlelight for hours. “That is good to hear. It’s already very late. You may be excused, Hongjoong, and thank you for today”.

Your secretary stood up beside your desk, slightly bowing his head as he held a thick stack of papers underneath his arm. “If my services aren’t required any longer, then I’ll be on my way, ma’am. Have a pleasant night, Your Majesty”.

For a couple of seconds, only Hongjoong’s steps could be heard in your office room. You were putting away letters, documents and your beloved stationary when a little note tucked away in one of your drawers reminded you of something.

Poor Hongjoong had a hand on the door knob when you called out for him. “Wait, Hongjoong!”

“Yes, ma’am?” he inquired after being stopped seconds away from freedom. He looked worried from your sudden abrasiveness.

“I had almost forgotten to ask,” you explained, “did you inform Lord Park Seonghwa of my visit tonight?”

Hongjoong wanted to sigh from relief, as well as laugh at the mention of your little appointment with the young noble, Lord Park Seonghwa. “Yes, Your Majesty. His Grace and his entourage were made aware of your intentions of passing by tonight”.

“Good, good.” You spaced out and forgot to add something else to that sentence, but was suddenly called back to Earth when you saw your poor Hongjoong still standing by the door like a dog waiting to get out. “Now you are truly dismissed. Sorry to keep you here”.

“No worries, ma’am,” he assured you, finally leaving you alone in your office. Just you and your thoughts of that commitment with none other than your adored Park Seonghwa. At last, something exciting in your day after many hours of meetings with your court, and mountains of papers with budgets, reports, complaints and many more.

God, you thought, it’s depressing to still be thinking about work. I guess it's inevitable if you want to run an empire.

You finished picking up after yourself and blew out what remained of the candles. They had just been replaced that day, but you would need to call for someone to put even more the next day.

I guess I will have to set aside a budget for candles.

The halls of the palace were considerably more empty in the late hours of the night, but that didn’t stop you from running into several maids and guards on their nightly duties. They all bowed to you and waited until you were far enough to continue with their tasks. In those moments, you thought that, no matter how bothersome and grueling your responsibilities could get, at least you didn’t have to stand up for hours on end or wash silverware in the middle of the night.

Near your chambers appeared to be the busiest. You opened the door to find your maids awaiting to assist you in your nightly routine. They curtsied at your arrival, and hastily dragged you to your vanity to begin dressing you down.

“Look at these hours!” one exclaimed while removing the pins of your hair, “Your Majesty must be so tired after such a long day. Should we draw a bath with those special salts for you to relax, ma’am? Then we can serve you some lavender tea for sleep”.

“You are a dear to me,” you thanked her and the others, “I’ll gladly take the offer of the bath, but I’m afraid I won’t be staying the night here. I plan to visit Lord Park, so please draw me that bath and fetch my robe”.

They giggled. “As you wish, Your Majesty”.

The hands were the most delicate when removing your makeup, hair and clothes. They rubbed away the stress of work and replaced it with the most pleasant of oils and perfumes. Indeed, they were masters of the art of polishing the body and the soul. Before you realized, you were already dressed in your nightgown and the robe that you reserved for these occasions.

“Is there anything else we can help Your Majesty with?” another one asked.

“I’m afraid not. Thank you once again. Please retire to your chambers for some sleep. We will have to wake up very early tomorrow!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

They curtsied as they left, and you could hear some of their giddy laughter and hushed voices just before the door closed. They loved gossip, even if it was about the whereabouts of their emperor (which was no secret to anyone). You let them entertain themselves however they wanted, choosing to keep them content as they were the people that spend the most time with you.

You sat in your vanity once more to contemplate their work. There was no sign of fatigue or worry in the face that looked back at you from the mirror. Quite the contrary. You looked more refreshed and rested than you had in weeks, all thanks to the magical wonders of your maids.

There was nothing you could do better in your appearance, so you decided to leave before you could consider staying in your chambers. While that thought seemed pleasant, a more promising option awaited you at one of the wings of the palace.

The wing reserved for the royal consorts was exquisite and lavish. Several rooms expanded around, forming a circle with a marble fountain in the middle depicting two lovers embracing each other with the utmost intensity. A dome was constructed on top of it, so the lovers were perpetually bathed in sunshine or moonlight. The floors were carpeted with the finest rugs imported from exotic lands in faraway continents. No speck of dust could be found on any corner, and all vases were always kept full with your favourite flowers. All the artwork was seasonally changed and handpicked by the emperors themselves according to their consorts' tastes. After all, it was the emperors' duty to pamper them and keep them content.

Having prided enough in your work at the consort wing, you began walking through the left part of the circle. Despite being able to hold many guests, most of the chambers were empty. In your short reign as emperor, you had only taken four consorts, without planning to add more in the foreseeable future. As a female emperor, it wasn’t a good look for your legacy to be remembered for promiscuity rather than your political achievements. Also, you were quite content with whom you had chosen to be your lovers.

Normally, the consort wing was brewing with life, always full of servants and guards waiting on your partners. While it could be refreshing to breathe that atmosphere, it was undeniable that the emperor’s visit was a cause of drama in the palace. Everyone was always eager to learn who were you coming to see, what you talked about and what to expect, and no doubt the speculation resulted in scheming that you weren’t ready to discover just yet. That’s why you tried to keep your appearances late and spaced in between, just to keep gossip at bay.

And, maybe, add some excitement too.

Seonghwa’s room was the farthest away, much to your dislike. Nevertheless, the wait made your little escapade even more thrilling. You reached the door, softly knocking on the sturdy wood. A few seconds passed and no one answered it. You knocked again, and still no answer. By now, one of Seonghwa’s servants would have opened it to let you go in, but tonight didn’t seem to be the case. Starting to get worried, you grabbed the knob and tried to push it open by yourself. Surprisingly, it offered no resistance and you found yourself inside Seonghwa’s chambers. You were preparing to scold him for his imprudence of leaving a door unlocked at night when the most pleasant of smells inundated your nostrils.

At first, it was just the sweet aroma of vanilla and jasmine, but the more you breathed in, the richer the smell got. Soon enough, your mind was floating along with the scent, making you relax into the atmosphere. It reminded you of something hidden in the depths of the soul. Desire. It wasn’t strong nor overpowering, but it lingered there, just barely out of reach .

When you shook out the initial stupor of the aroma, you scanned the room looking for your companion for the night. Normally, he would be waiting for you in one of the exquisite sofas and chairs of the sitting area before the door, but tonight he wasn’t there either.

Apparently, the young lord had made sure that your night was full of oddities.

After a few more seconds of appreciating the neatness and taste of Seonghwa’s bedchambers, your eyes fell into the sleeping area. The furniture around the bed was lit up with soft candles, and a few scenting oil containers laid open, explaining the delicious odor that greeted you. A bottle of wine and two glasses waited for you at the coffee table in front of the chaise lounge that sat in front of the bed. That was, certainly, a direct clue to move there.

As you got closer, you saw that the drapes of the bed were completely closed, but the light from the candles illuminated the silhouette of a man sitting inside. With big strides and a grin, you closed the distance even more.

“My, my, what do we have here?” you asked in a teasing tone, one hand laying on the back of the chaise lounge. You circled it and sat down on the plush cushions, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back into one arm. “Looks like someone is hiding from me. Where did my precious Seonghwa go?”.

A deep chuckle came from within the curtains. “Not very far, Your Majesty”.

“My, my, there he is!” you poured yourself a glass of wine from the bottle that awaited you on the coffee table before the chaise lounge. It was yours and Seonghwa’s favourite. “What an odd feeling to not have you welcome me into your chambers. Playing hard to get, aren’t we?”

His rich laugh resonated once again in the room and you could see he shifted his position a little from the candlelight. “Your Majesty should know by now that familiarity breeds contempt”.

“That is very true, darling,” you sipped the wine, “but I will admit that seeing you that eager has always been my favourite part of the day. Perhaps you are right and I’ve spoiled my puppy too much, so now he is bored of me. I guess I’ll have to go to one of the other consorts…”

Slight panic rose to Seonghwa’s voice, but he managed to save face in time. “Quite on the contrary. I thought that Your Majesty might start getting bored of our encounters, so I thought a little change was due”.

Your heart fluttered at Seonghwa’s thoughtfulness, but you weren’t done playing with him. “What a kind puppy I have got here. Thank you for thinking about me, but remember I’m the one who makes the decisions here”.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, but you heard a little mischief there.

Still, you decided to let it slide once. “Either way, I’m feeling extra generous tonight, so I’ll follow your little plan for a while. So, tell me, where do we go from here, my darling?”.

Seonghwa shifted once more in his bed. His shadows danced across the fabric of the drapes.

“Well,” he started, “I believe that Your Majesty has already made herself comfortable on my chair, but I’m afraid that none of what I intend on doing tonight makes use of it. So, why don’t you come closer, ma’am?”.

Now, you thought, he is using that charm of his. A little bit longer and I would’ve gone to get him myself.

You stood from your resting position, not leaving behind your glass. Not long after, you stood at the foot of the bed, one hand gripping the opening of the lace drapes, eagerly waiting to reveal your lover’s form.

The sight in front of you left you drunker than the wine on your lips could ever.

In the many years that he had resided in your palace, you had commissioned dozens of artists to portray the beauty of the young lord, Park Seonghwa. But, even after having a room full of just paintings of him in every position imaginable, you still had yet to acquire any piece of art that could rival the one sitting before your very eyes.

Seonghwa sat between the plush pillows and cushions at the head of the bed. His posture was relaxed, with his legs slightly crossed and one arm supporting most of his upper torso. His robe was barely tied, leaving almost the entirety of his torso exposed. Not that it would have been of much help, given the scandalous sheerness of the garment, which left little to the imagination. His neck, ears and fingers were littered with the golden shine of the jewelry you had especially commissioned to compliment his tan complexion. Your eyes found purchase of every inch of his small waist and defined limbs. He was carefully sculpted by the gods, even if he politely declined any comment made towards his appearance.

One trait you loved about Seonghwa was his eyes. They never lied. You could tell what he was feeling from a simple stare. Right now, many things flashed through them

Desire. Lust. Adoration.

You stood there without moving except to sip on your wine once again. As you stared at him, you noticed that one of his hands laid inside a crystal bowl. Never removing his eyes from yours, he raised it to his plump lips and opened his mouth. His tongue darted out to receive whatever it was that his hand carried and, for a moment, you saw a glint. He let you see the ruby-like gem before he closed his mouth and bit down on it slowly. A slight smirk adorned his face.

He knew you. He knew you liked jewelry. And him.

“Oh?” you exclaimed while looking at the bowl once again, seeing it full with more of the gems, “Is that candy?”

His smile grew wider. “Yes, Your Majesty. The finest of your empire.”

“I see, very interesting. Will you tell me which flavor is it?”

He grabbed one more piece of candy and showed it to you. The light from the candles bounced off it, making it look like a real ruby. “That, ma’am, is something you will have to find out”.

You arched your eyebrow at him in a questioning manner. “Is the puppy going to keep me guessing? Well then, bring it here so I can taste it myself”.

With your command, Seonghwa got on his knees and crawled over the bed towards you, bringing one of the damned candies with him. The closer he got, the more breathtaking he looked. Part of you wanted to order him to stop with his act, but the other part loved seeing his sensual side on display for you. Also, deep inside, you were too soft to ruin his fun.

His head towered slightly over yours. From that distance, you could see every detail of his face, including the nonexistent imperfections. Without a word, your hand scanned his jaw, chin and neck until you felt the cold of one of his gold chains, leaving it there. With your other hand, you grabbed the candy gem and brought it closer to both of your heads. You twirled it twice on your fingers before putting it against Seonghwa’s lips. Not wasting a second, he opened his mouth and let the candy fall on it like it had done earlier. Before closing it again, he playfully licked the tip of your index finger.

What a naughty puppy.

You grabbed his chin and put your face even closer to his. “You are playing a dangerous game, my darling”.

He had barely swallowed the candy when you closed the space between you with a kiss. Immediately, Seonghwa reciprocated, closing his eyes and grabbing you by your waist and shoulder.

Strawberry. He tasted like strawberries.

You took advantage of the kiss to let your hands explore even more of the body you saw earlier. His skin was as soft and warm as always, but you never got tired of how it felt against yours. Your fingers slid inside his robe and slowly dragged it down his shoulders, leaving even more skin exposed. You wanted all of it. All of him.

You separated from the kiss to get some air, but apparently it wasn’t enough for Seonghwa. He latched himself on the juncture of your neck and jaw, peppering open-mouthed kisses on every inch of your skin that you could find. You let out a content sigh, and weaved your fingers through his hair, knowing he loved when you did that. His hands held you firmly by your waist, pulling you flush against himself. Bit by bit, his kisses went lower until he reached the neck of your nightgown.

Through the years, you had learnt that Seonghwa was addicting. There was never “just a bit” with him. It was all or nothing. And that’s what you intended tonight. Take all of him.

In more than one way.

“As much as I would love to stay like this all night long,” you said while pushing Seonghwa slightly off of your chest, “I’m afraid my legs will give out at some point. Perhaps we should take this further into the bed”.

Seonghwa said nothing. Still, he got up from his kneeling position and down the bed, grabbed your hand and walked around the furniture and sat on the edge of it near the pillows. While smiling, he placed your hands back on his shoulders and pulled you between his legs. He looked at you from beneath, expecting you to follow along with his plans for you.

“I’m also afraid of tiring Your Majesty’s legs before we have even begun,” he shooted you a smirk. “Why don’t you take a seat so I can take care of you, ma’am?”

He didn’t even wait for your answer before grabbing your behind and pulling you with force to himself. You let out a yelp and fell down on him. While he laughed at you, you tried to pull yourself up by pressing down on his shoulders and putting your legs on each side of his. In any other situation you would’ve also laughed with him, but you wanted to keep control for a little longer.

“What a naughty puppy,” you exclaimed, grabbing Seonghwa by his jaw to shut him up. “Good thing you that I love you a little too much. Otherwise I would have your head on a plate”. You didn’t really mean that, but you noticed that Seonghwa’s eyes lit up a bit when you said love. “You will pay me back another day”.

“It’ll be my pleasure,” he replied, “but let me enjoy myself a little longer”.

He captured your lips once more. Somewhere in your conversation he had gained a confidence you had only witnessed a handful of times. He didn’t hesitate to remove your robe from your body, letting it fall to the floor without a care. He didn’t hesitate while pulling you to sit entirely on his lap, making you feel everything underneath. He didn’t hesitate while looking at you in a way no one dared to before.

The adoration you had towards this man felt way too much for a moment, and you got scared. So, you decided to avoid your feelings for a little longer by kissing him again, praying that he wouldn’t notice how different you were acting tonight. And if he did, he didn’t show.

At one point, during your touching, Seonghwa had lost that goddamned robe, leaving the both of you in nothing but your underwear. You could feel the heat radiating from each other, almost too hot to the touch but not enough to make you pull away. As much as you could spend eternity just kissing Seonghwa’s strawberry lips, you were starting to feel impatient and the man could tell.

It started slow, barely enough for you to feel at first. He had broken the kiss to leave more marks on your neck and naked chest. His hands gripped your hips, anchoring you to his crotch. The space between you was almost non-existent. Little by little, he started to move your hips along his, igniting sparks of pleasure throughout your body. In no time, he accompanied it with movements of his own pelvis, creating the perfect amount of friction to send you into overdrive.

One particularity of Seonghwa was his ability to make every movement enticing. After all, there was a time he was known as the best dancer and performer in your whole land, seeked and desired by hundreds, and it was that reputation that had drawn you towards him in the first place. Every move of his appeared calculated enough to look tempting yet effortless, and here you were paying the price of that talent by being subjected to one of the most sublime pleasures known to humankind.

At one point, Seonghwa had stilled your hips, opting for grinding his against them. This ensured that you could feel the entirety of his erection pressing against every part of your core, all the way from your entrance to your clit. After a while of receiving this tortuous treatment, you were climbing a peak you weren’t ready yet to reach.

You stilled his movements by pressing your hand against his hard on, which earned you a whine from Seonghwa. You almost went back into a desperate grinding after hearing that delicious noise, but you held back. “I’m afraid that if we continue with this much longer, both you and I won’t last enough to get to whatever you wish to do”.

“You don’t have to worry about me, ma’am” he teased you with a cheeky grin. “I can continue all night long, Your Majesty”.

You grabbed him by the back of his head once again and got your faces close. “Y/N”. He blinked a couple times in confusion, so you repeated yourself once again. “Y/N. It’s Y/N when I’m with you”.

Now it was Seonghwa’s turn to pray that you didn’t notice how fast his heart was beating from your statement. One would think that he had loved you enough time for your name to roll easily from his lips, but it wasn’t the case at all. It was impossible when some days, your sole presence was enough to make him nervous. It was impossible when sometimes he looked at the other consorts and it made his blood boil. It was impossible when he knew that using your name meant owning a part of you, something he would never be able to do given the nature of your relationship.

Nevertheless, he allowed the syllables to run through his tongue, even if they stinged. “Well then, I can continue all night long, Y/N”.

He didn’t give you time to reply, because in one moment he was leaving a peck on your lips, and on the other you were swiftly being turned around and laid against the pillows of the bed. You gasped in surprise at the same time that Seonghwa let out the most beautiful laugh you had ever heard.

And what would you not do to hear it again.

“You little scoundrel!” you exclaimed. “You have absolutely no idea what you are getting yourself into. Next time you’ll see how well it goes for you!”

Seonghwa positioned himself on top of you, his chest almost pressed against yours. He shot you another mischievous grin. “I’ll be waiting eagerly, then”.

He left a kiss on the column of your throat, so soft it was barely there. Then he left another one a little lower. Then another. And another. And another, until he reached your sternum. Your eyes fluttered when he started moving upwards towards one of your breasts. He used one of his hands to trace mindless patterns across your stomach, hips and waist. The tender stimulation was starting to heighten the heat in your core, somewhat lost in the brief moments you had stopped rubbing on Seonghwa. Finally, it reached an all-time peak when his warm tongue enveloped your right nipple.

“Ah!” you let out with a moan. He continued his assault on your breast, sucking and licking on your sensitive mound. After some moments of this treatment, he brought the hand that had been on your hip and used it to massage the forgotten bud. Then, he switched sides, continuing his ministrations on both of your nipples. It felt good. So good that you started rubbing your thighs together, hoping to get some friction and relieve some of that growing heat.

Seonghwa took notice of your impatience and decided to act on it. He unlatched his mouth from your bud, replacing it with his other hand. Meanwhile, he left a trail of open-mouthed kisses along your stomach. You let out content sighs, using your own hands to rub soothing circles on Seonghwa’s defined back and shoulders. His mouth reached the hem of your panties, and you couldn’t help but hitch a breath in expectation. But that fucker had other plans for you.

He peppered even more kisses along the waistband of your underwear, even going as far as to nip it. But, when he got to where you needed him the most, he ignored the wet patch on your crotch, opting to lick your inner thighs. He left another wet trail on your legs up until your knees, bending them slightly to give him better access. Without missing a beat, he switched from one leg to the other, this time going upwards towards your centre. He rubbed your calves and knees tenderly, relieving the tension in them.

Seonghwa broke away from the task he had been focused on for the last minutes to look back at you, and spoke.

“You know,” he stated, “there was once a time where I could have been considered the most beautiful man of the kingdom”. You stared back at him, curious about what point he was trying to make. “It has been almost five years since then, and I’m sure age has changed that fact”.

You frowned at his words, and you were about to refute that claim when he spoke again. “I am certain that has been the case for me. But for you, Y/N, Your Majesty, it is completely the opposite. Every day that you come visit me, I am more certain that time has only made you even more beautiful”.

You were left speechless in awe, but Seonghwa did not seem to interpret it the same way. “I am most sorry if my words have been bold tonight, but the thought has been wandering on my mind for the entirety of this evening. Let me make it up to you, Y/N”.

With nothing else to add, he brought relief to the ache on your core that had been plaguing you from the moment you stepped on Seonghwa’s chambers. Slowly, he bit down on the waistband of your underwear and began to bring it down with his teeth enough to then remove them with his fingers. When he was sure there was not a single millimeter of fabric separating you from him, he dived head first into your folds, tasting you like you were a meal he had been depriving himself of for weeks.

The expertise of his tongue and the long wait had you moaning immediately. “Oh, fuck!” Your hands grabbed the back of his head and pushed him further into you.

Seonghwa never shied away from giving you the best pleasure he could offer. He continually switched from kitty licks on your clit to long swipes through your whole slit. He ate you out like a starved man, sucking on your nub with enough force to make you almost reach the ceiling of pleasure. Nevertheless, he didn’t want you arriving at your climax just yet. No, he had a lot more to give you. He separated himself from your core slightly, just enough to be able to watch you in all your glory.

The sight of your eyes rolling back into your skull, head hanging weakly over the pillows and your mouth wide open almost made him cum on himself. You looked so fucked out, barely even registering what happened on your surrounds aside from the movement of his tongue and your hand on his hair.

“Holy shit,” he exclaimed, “you are doing so well for me, Y/N. So, so good”.

You whined at his growl-like tone. “Hwa, I’m close. Don’t stop, please.”

Seonghwa moaned at your whining. It was rare to witness his emperor relinquishing so much of the control you normally had on every aspect of your life, even in bed. He was harder than he remembered ever feeling before, and it drove him crazy. He didn’t want to, he needed to make you cum. So, after looking at you one last time, he went back to his task, now inserting a finger into your hole.

You gasped at the sudden feeling of having his digit inside yourself. His fingers were long and slender, perfect for how you liked it. Little by little, Seonghwa started inserting more and more of it, feeling no resistance from your part. With the same slow pace, he began sliding out, only to go back inside. In no time, he had found a rhythm that matched his licks and slurps on your clit.

This time, you could feel your climax start to unravel once Seonghwa hit the perfect spot. “Oh my god, I’m coming. Shit, shit, I’m coming!”.

The perfect combination of one of his licks with his fingering movements left your vision white. You felt the air being sucked from your lungs as a fiery heat traveled from all your extremities to your core. Your back arched beautifully, almost as if wanting to ascend to the upper plane of pleasure Seonghwa was sending you to. Your fingers clutched anything they could get a hold of; pillows, sheets, and Seonghwa’s dark locks of hair.

The high was dizzying and intoxicating.

Seonghwa continued to shyly lick your cunt while you came back from your orgasm. You felt sensitive to his touch, but your craving for him still wasn’t satisfied. You propped yourself on one elbow to look at him better, moving your other hand from his hair to his cheek. With soft touches, you removed his face from your core to stop him.

The sight before you was erotic in every sense of the word. The lower bottom of his face was drenched in your cum, his tongue darting out from his mouth to lick around it. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, making it seem like it was him who had received one of the most mind-blowing orgasms of his life. His eyes, still full of love and adoration for you, continued to pierce into yours, feeding into the fire that had slowly been growing since the start of the evening.

“My puppy has done such a good job tonight,” you praised him, running your fingers down his jaw to his neck and chest. In a soft gesture, you put your hand under his armpit, urging him to come up from his lying position to hover over you. With his hands on each side of your face, his legs tangled between yours, and your hands woven over the back of his head, you gazed back at him with a mischievous smile. “I believe a reward is in order”.

You closed the distance between your lips, pressing them into another feverish kiss. Seonghwa let out a content sigh into your mouth, melting until both of your figures became indistinguishable. You ran a hand over his broad back, lightly scratching your nails over his skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your journey. Then, you dipped it under his waist and over his abdominals, going lower and lower until your hand reached its final destination.

Seonghwa almost collapsed on top of you when he felt you touch his dick. He let out divine sounds when he felt you begin to stroke the base of his member under his underwear, your other hand removing the last piece of clothing for him. For a moment, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the way your hand moved downwards towards the tip, in a movement you had memorized from your countless nights spent with him. To have you touch the most intimate part of his body felt the biggest reward he could receive for his actions, but that wasn’t how he wanted things to go.

You were surprised when you felt his hand grab your wrist to halt your movements. “What is wrong?” you asked, worried about hurting him.

He looked down to where you connected with him and then back at you with his ever-present soft smile. “Nothing is wrong, but I don’t wish to make this night about me”.

You raised your eyebrow at him. “But you deserve it”.

He pecked your nose and gifted you with another smile. “Thank you, Y/N, save it for another time”.

Seonghwa removed your hand from his underwear and intertwined your fingers with his, resting both of your hands besides your head. He left small kisses on your lips, one after another, until you were giggling. The cold metal of his necklaces against your chest gave you small goosebumps, but you still pulled his face against yours, rubbing your noses together.

“I will, Hwa,” you promised him.

Seonghwa let out a chuckle of his own. You looked so cute at that moment. “Thank you, Y/N. Now, if you let me, there’s still one thing on my list for tonight”.

In one swift moment, he sat back on the bed, similar to the position you found him earlier in the night, but this time with you sitting directly on his crotch once more. This time, there was nothing separating your cores. You could feel the entirety of Seonghwa’s length pressed against your slit, warm and slippery with your juices. A small movement of your hips and you would have the head of his cock pressed against your entrance.

Apparently, that same thought crossed Seonghwa. He grabbed your waist to lift you slightly up, leaving you on your knees over him. With one hand he positioned you where he needed you, and with the other he grabbed his cock, stroking himself while aligning it with your entrance. He looked up at you, eyes round and soft.

“May I?” he asked, not needing to say further.

You nodded, and he began your descend towards the climax of tonight’s act.

The first wave came with the first inch. There was always a sense of euphoria when you felt the tip of his length breach your inner walls, slowly dragging upwards to give way to more of it. Your body always responds with a gasp at this initial moment. The second wave is less intense but more prolonged. As he entered deeper and deeper, Seonghwa started losing control of himself. At this stage, he would start touching and grabbing every part of your body he could reach. Hips, thighs, breasts and ass would be covered in small marks the next day from his mindless touch. The last wave was the one that left the both of you with the biggest satisfaction. It was the bliss of being connected in one of the most intimate ways two people could.

“Oh, fuck!” Seonghwa let out, throwing his head back. No matter how many times he had done this, it still felt delicious.

You were also a mess above him. Your back was arched towards him, eyes pressed shut to savour the drag of his dick inside of you, and mouth wide open. Seonghwa felt like cumming from that sight alone. He wanted to devour you whole; crawl beneath your skin and live inside your heart forever.

If only he knew.

Regaining a bit of your senses, you started moving your hips slowly. Up and down, front to back, side to side. You began to find the rhythm that drove the both of you crazy. Wanton moans escaped from your lips as you felt Seonghwa in the deepest parts of your body. You grabbed his shoulders to support yourself better, and his hands found nest on the curve of your hips. In no time, you had picked up the speed, feeling him go in and out harder.

“God, you feel so good,” you moaned. “You are always so good for me. So, so good”.

The praise seemed to get into Seonghwa’s head (and cock). He whined beautifully, his eyes rolling back into his skull. He bit his lower lip to contain the sounds escaping from his throat. You didn’t like that.

You freed his lip with your thumb, once again getting closer to his face. “Don’t you ever try to hold back with me. I want to hear you”.

That set Seonghwa on fire. He planted his feet on the bed, grabbing you firmly by the waist, and started thrusting up into you with force. For a moment, all breath escaped from your lungs, being replaced by the smell of sex and lust. A whiny scream left your lips without meaning to, followed by broken moans and gasps. You hugged your lover by the shoulders in an attempt to keep yourself from falling too hard too fast on the abyss.

Seonghwa’s plump lips now rested against your ear, gifting you with his unrestrained groans and grunts of pleasure. You clenched around his cock deliciously, fitting him like a glove. It felt like a new heaven was opened to him every time he entered you, and your hands roaming across his back and chest felt akin to feather touches of an angel. If he closed his eyes a little longer, then he would be gone for good.

“Y/N, Y/N,” he repeated like a mantra, “I’m so close! God, I can’t wait to come inside of you. I’m going to make you mine”.

Seonghwa was a goner when he felt you clench even harder around him, but he needed you to cum first. It was a rule in his world, a commandment of his, to always satisfy your needs before his, even if it meant never getting back what he had offered you. So, feeling his impending climax approaching, he slid his fingers between your bodies to where your clit rested. His other hand slithered up to your breast, and played with your sensitive peaks.

That was your breaking point. The stimulation of all those points elevated you to your highest peak of the night. Your body shook with electricity that spread through your spine down to every nerve. You back arched against Seonghwa’s chest, pushing your face away from him. Your toes curled and your legs tensed, your inner thighs wet from the mess of cum and saliva.

You were a sight to behold.

Not long after, Seonghwa came. With sloppy thrusts into your core, he tried to prolong his and your orgasms. Overstimulation was becoming overwhelming, but something carnal and animalistic inside of him pushed him to go further. To claim every inch of your body and soul. Make you his in every way imaginable.

He didn’t stop until he felt like he had pushed the last bits of cum into your pussy. He felt the mess you both had created slip between your bodies, letting out a slight smirk at the thought of your cum and his mixing together.

It was him who had you in his bed tonight. Him who had given you the highest form of pleasure. Him who held you as you recovered from having sex with him.

But still, you weren’t his.

Despite Seonghwa facing inner turmoil at the moment, you felt very content at his side. Still feeling him inside, you were full of him, not just in the physical sense. The weight of your actions with him left your heart soaring higher than the sky, almost at peace. There was just a single detail missing in your equation.

With him standing by your side, there was nothing else you needed.

↠↠↠↞↞↞

The moonlight shone through the open balcony, drawing pale and shapeless silhouettes on the floor beneath your feet. You could hear the branches of the trees sway with the wind in the garden below. It was rare for you to have enough time to sit quietly to observe the mundane beauties of the world that surrounded you.

Except on those nights when you laid with Seonghwa.

After a brief clean-up session with him in his bathroom, you went back to his room. It was a comforting routine for both of you. Just being in each other’s company felt more intimate than any sexual activity you could engage in. You sat there in peace, no clothes needed to enjoy the pleasant company. It was symbolic of how you both bared yourselves naked in more than the literal way.

You sat on the edge of the bed, both feet planted on the floor. The long-forgotten wine returned to your hand, swirling slowly inside the glass, guided by the rhythmic movement of your body. Seonghwa laid on the bed behind you, sipping on his wine. You could feel his intense stare on your back, digging holes at it in silence.

Neither of you felt brave enough to break it.

At last, it was Seonghwa who dared to perturb the tranquility of the room.

“You have been behaving oddly tonight,” he declared, speaking into the rim of his glass.

You turned your neck around just enough to see him gulp down the rest of the beverage. For a couple of moments, the only sound in the room was that of liquid pouring before you answered.

“Am I the only one, though?” you questioned back, but not denying his claim.

“Certainly not,” he replied, seemingly submerged in his thoughts. His long fingers tapped against the stem of the glass before settling it down on the nightstand, “but it is unlike you to drain out your concerns in such ways”.

In five years, Seonghwa learnt to read you like a book. He picked on every cue and sign to assess your moods and act according to them. That way he had managed to completely obliterate the walls you had built around yourself, becoming your trusted confidant in record speed. He had not only looks but a bright mind.

But, still, even Seonghwa couldn’t escape the claws of the cold palace politics.

For that reason, you just offered a close-mouthed smile. “I know you have your people in my council, Seonghwa, so you should know what matter plagues me”.

Seonghwa ignored your cold countenance, choosing to gift you a warm smile. “Yes, I do know, but I'd rather hear it from you”.

You looked into his deep, dark eyes and you knew that if you could trust anyone, it would only be Park Seonghwa.

You exhaled some air and sipped on the glass. “The old foxes at the council have been reminding me that it has been five years since I took the throne, and there are no signs of an upcoming wedding, much less an heir. It makes them restless that there is no one they can trust to succeed me if something happens to me, so they have been pressuring me to pick someone at last”.

You turned around your torso to watch him more carefully. Seonghwa appeared as calm as ever, but the firm grip on the stem of the glass betrayed him

“So,” he asked nonchalantly, “will you do it?”

You left your wine on one of the nightstands and slid up further into the bed to sit beside Seonghwa. He looked at you with extreme curiosity while you settled at his side. While it wasn’t the first time you had touched the subject, it had never affected you like this before.

“Yes,” you said, simply.

For the nth time that night, Seonghwa prayed that you couldn’t hear his heart beating erratically inside his chest. That simple word had planted seeds of jealousy and hope, and he feared that more conversation would water them into a horrific ivy that would swallow his spirit whole. Tonight had not been a good night for his heart. Nevertheless, he made his best effort to appear calm amidst his internal storm.

“Oh?” he asked in an almost teasing tone. “Glad to see you finally settling down. Do you have someone in mind already, or should I suggest candidates?”

The green ivy grew bigger on his chest.

“Yes,” you answered, holding his intense gaze, “I have someone in mind already”.

“Oh?” Seonghwa repeated, but this time less sure of himself, “Is it a consort? Or will you bring someone from outside?”

“Oh god, no. In five years as Emperor, the amount of people I trust has reduced significantly. I could never bring myself to find someone outside this palace”.

Seonghwa bit his lip. “So it is a consort”.

You scooted even closer to him. “Yes, he is a consort”.

Seonghwa’s breath hitched. His head was spinning. One in four. He had one in four chances to be the one you picked.

Against his better judgment, he dared to prod the dragon’s belly. “Well then, who is him?”

You grinned at him, teasing him further. “Aren’t you awfully curious tonight?”

Trying to save face, Seonghwa answered. “Can you judge me? I am part of that pool, so I might as well ask before I hear the news from someone else”.

You didn’t reply. Instead, you scooted even closer to his frame, his arm instinctively wrapping around you and resting you on his shoulder. You inhaled his aroma from that distance and hid your face on his neck.

He smelt like home. And strawberries.

You leaned back to watch him, finding he was already looking back at you. Some of his hair fell on his eyes, covering part of his sculpted visage.

“Your hair is getting longer,” you commented, brushing the dark locks behind his ear.

“Should I cut it?” he asked.

You shook your head. “No, it looks beautiful on you”.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

For two entire breaths, you stood in silence. “Seonghwa”.

“Yes?”

You wetted your lips. “Seonghwa, for almost five years, you have lived here in the palace as my consort. You were the first one I brought in many years ago when I had recently taken the throne, and you are my closest confidant aside from Hongjoong”.

You felt him gulp nervously, but you continued. “In these years, you have proven yourself to be more than just a consort. You are indeed handsome, but also brilliant, charismatic, strong, brave, and kind. In many instances, you have been my biggest ally and supporter, as well as a voice of reason when circumstances appear grim. You have a talent few men can say they possess, and it gives me pride to have you on my side, whether as your Emperor, your friend, or your lover”.

Seonghwa felt his chest swell with pride and joy while hearing your words. It was a one-in-four chance, but he certainly felt like it had been him all this time.

But you weren’t finished. “You are a man of many talents, Park Seonghwa, and in these five years I have witnessed that potential grow beyond what this restrictive palace can offer.” Seonghwa tensed beside you. “This place is nothing more than a beautiful prison for minds like yours, whose limit cannot be determined. A breeding ground for the greed and ambitions of the worst of mankind”.

You went back to stroking Seonghwa’s head. “You are my most beautiful flower, Seonghwa. I have sinned by ripping off your roots and hiding you here. I have taken you away from everything you loved and knew: your home, your family, your dance… I have been a horrible woman by keeping you tied to me for five years of your precious youth”.

Seonghwa had started to shake and you felt drops falling on top of your head. You pushed yourself away from him, only to see him crying. Your heart shattered in the very instance when he pushed himself away from your embrace. He sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over his knees, hand covering his mouth.

“That’s a terrible way to announce it’s not me,” he stated, briefly uncovering his mouth, but never looking back at you.

You got up from your lying position. On your knees, you crawled behind him, looping your arms underneath his armpits. Without a second thought, Seonghwa rested his hands on yours on top of his chest.

Seonghwa had always been an easy crier.

You rested your forehead on his cervical. “I told you I am a horrible person. I am merciless to my enemies, and awful to my friends. More despicable is the fact that I don’t believe those words”. Seonghwa’s head shot up, listening to what you said. “You are my most beautiful flower, and I don’t plan on letting you go”.

You pressed yourself further into Seonghwa’s broad back. “In five long and short years, you have become indispensable to me. It is you who I come to when I am happy. It is you who I come to when I am in need of comfort. It is to you who I confess my fears and sins, and to whom I share the deepest parts of my soul. Your happiness has become my happiness, your grief my grief, and your pride my pride. You are my better half, and my equal in everything but in body”.

“So do forgive me for being a selfish Emperor and even a worse lover, but I will not release you from my grasp, even if it is against my better judgment. I will do anything and give you anything you desire if it means I will get to keep you by my side for the rest of our lives”.

Seonghwa swallowed once again. “Will you give me anything?”

You grabbed his left hand and brought it to your lips. “Yes, anything. Say the word and it shall be yours”.

“You. I want you. I want (L/N) (Y/N)”.

Your heart exploded in a million fireworks inside your chest. “Then, I shall be yours”.

Suddenly, Seonghwa turned back at you, tackling you into a hug. He hid his face in the crook of your neck, slightly shaking with short sobs. He was crying, but this time they were happy tears. Softly, you removed him from yourself with a smile.

“Lord Park Seonghwa,” you said while looking deep into his eyes, “will you do me the honor of becoming Imperial King and marry me?”.

“Yes, yes, yes!” he shouted. “A hundred times yes!”.

You laughed, and he started peppering kisses all over your face. You both went from hugging to kissing to laughing hysterically every couple of seconds. No joy in life could compare to the state of bliss you were in, knowing you belonged wholeheartedly to each other.

You had said it before. Tonight, you had intended to make Seonghwa yours in more than one way.

“But wait,” Seonghwa stopped the both of you abruptly, “isn’t this done through a formal ceremony?”

“I mean, yes,” you replied, “but I wanted to make sure it is what you wanted before officially proposing to you in front of everyone. I would have felt awful to put you on the spot like that if you didn’t want to actually marry me”.

“Are you kidding me? I’m so in love with you that I would have said yes no matter when and where you had asked me”.

“Good to know my fiancé is in love with me as much as I am in love with him”, you smirked and rubbed your noses together. “Either way, I will have to inform Lord Hongjoong of the changes in our situation. I bet he will be very surprised”.

(Spoiler alert, he was not).

You both laid on your backs, staring at the ceiling of Seonghwa’s room. Hands intertwined like vines. The night continued to be silent, uncaring of the two lovers who had decided to give themselves to each other without the knowledge of the rest of the world. The Earth didn’t stop spinning nor did the Moon stop her beaming, but now your whole galaxy shone with the glint of Park Seonghwa’s eyes.

“I never thought I would say this,” Seonghwa broke the last silence of the night, “but I thank those old geezers at the council for pushing you into my arms. From the moment that I met you, my heart, body, and soul have belonged to you and only you. From the moment I rise in the morning to the closing of my eyes at night, my every thought is dedicated to you. I will do everything in my power to be dutiful as your husband, and you shall never regret having me, my love”.

“There’s nothing in the world that will make me regret having you as my husband,” you kissed both of his hands. “As far as the members of the council, I bet they will be happy knowing that I’m marrying at last, especially if it’s with someone as brilliant as you”.

“We will be the most powerful sovereigns this nation has seen,” Seonghwa sealed his promise with a sweet kiss on your lips. “I’ll give you all of me if you need it”.

“Then it shall be that way,” you kissed him back.

With the threat of an early morning, you tucked yourselves into bed. Seonghwa attached himself to your back, tangling his arms and legs until you couldn’t tell where began who. He released his soft breaths into your ear, slowly lulling you to your rest. Just as you were about to fall asleep, he muttered to you.

“I bet the council will really be happy with our marriage,” you could hear the grin in his voice, “because, with me, you won’t be having any problem conceiving that heir… Your Majesty”.

It was safe to say, you didn’t wake up early that day.

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