#before he found out about the truth of the greater will

[dragoneyes618]

On February 5th, 1840, the Syrian Jewish community was thrown into peril when Father Thomas, an Italian monk, and his Muslim servant, Ibrahim Amara, disappeared in Damascus. Despite there being no evidence of the Jews’ involvement — in fact, historians think it’s more likely that Father Thomas was murdered by a local Turkish muleteer — the good citizens of Damascus could never lose an opportunity to scapegoat a Jew. Accusations of “blood matzos” spread rapidly (a common justification for many European blood libels), and thus began what became known as the Damascus affair. At the time, the city was governed by the (anti-Semitic) French consul, Ulysse de Ratti-Menton, who ordered a search of the Jewish quarter. While his hunt did not unearth any stored blood or bodies, Ulysse de Ratti-Menton was not about to let a small matter of literally no evidence get in the way of his convictions. A Jewish barber named Solomon Negrin was arbitrarily pulled off the street and tortured until he “confessed” that the monk had been killed in the house of David Harari — a wealthy member of the community — by seven Jews, who were rounded up before they could flee.

Meir Farhi, another wealthy Jew, was indicted in the disappearance of Ibrahim Amara. The Damascus authorities were furious that he escaped before they arrived to arrest him. Determined to drive him out of hiding, they began to whip his toddler son. After being forced to watch her son receive 300 lashes, and nearly bleed to death, a distraught Mrs. Farhi gave the authorities her husband’s location (along with a bribe for “humane” treatment), and he was promptly imprisoned.

In the interim, none of the seven “conspirators” in Father Thomas’s murder confessed, despite being tortured. Wanting a “confession,” as they still didn’t have any physical proof, Damascus authorities abducted 63 Jewish children (along with their mothers) and refused to release them until someone owned up. Aslan Farhi, a brother of Meir Farhi, confessed to the murder under torture.

While the Christians and Muslims had found their “murderers,” they still hadn’t located the bodies or the blood. Investigators eventually found some animal bones in the sewer, and claimed they belonged to Thomas and Amara. A local physician refused to certify that they were human bones and suggested they be forwarded to Europe for confirmation, but the French consul decided that would be too much effort — he had all the proof he needed.

Jewish communities worldwide were horrified about the blood libel, and even more so about the fact that the greater world accepted it as justified. No one in Europe rose to the defense of the Damascus Jewish community, or even questioned the obvious discrepancies in the case. But before the American Jewish community could take action, President Martin Van Buren spoke up.

Though the State Department issued an official statement condemning the situation in Damascus, President Van Buren wasn’t content to just send his “thoughts and prayers,” and instructed his government to pressure and influence the Sultan as well.

The American consul in Constantinople, David Porter, received the following message: “…As the scene of these barbarities are in the Mahomedan dominions, and as such inhuman practices are not of infrequent occurrence in the East, the President has directed me to instruct you do to everything in your power with the Government of his Imperial Highness, the Sultan to whom you are accredited… to prevent or mitigate these horrors…”

Mr. Porter’s pressure campaign (along with some assistance from the British and French governments) forced Pasha Muhammed Ali, the Ottoman Viceroy and ruler of Egypt and Syria, to end the torture and imprisonment of the Jewish prisoners who were still alive. Additionally, the American ambassador (along with Moses Montefiore) was able to secure an Ottoman imperial decree declaring that the blood libel had “not the least foundation in truth,” and that Jews “shall possess the same advantages and enjoy the same privileges” as his other subjects — most notably the free exercise of their religion.

While the American Jewish communities arranged protests in New York, Boston, Charleston, and Philadelphia, these rallies took place two weeks after the President intervened. His actions were a matter of conscience, not the result of political pressure or lobbying.

Source

[swallowtail-ageha]

There is also the fact that jolan and anna seem to be nox who were raised likely in bonny's gaol

We find the night set here, and the chestpiece says

[Bottomless black chest armor, cool to the touch. Flowing lines in the seeming shape of a fingerprint adorn the surface. Imprisons the wearer in utterly lightless dark. Bestowed upon those born deep underground, ordaining them as Swordhands of Night.]

while jolàn's spirit ashes description says

[Ashen remains in which spirits yet dwell. Use to summon the spirit of Swordhand of Night Jolán. Spirit of a swordhand granted light by the Iris of Grace. Wields a sword of bottomless black that penetrates the enemy's guard. Though it was not by the shining star that she had longed for, thus was her Night illuminated. But this was an at times blinding light, and threatened to expunge the Night entirely.]

The underground references + night references point to them being nox. Jolan's face data also really looks like the nightfolk facedata + there is the shamans being likely a slur for numens and the nox themselves being likely a subculture of numens, so they were likely nox children who got bred for the purpose of being weapons. Ymir is also carian and carians are astrologers, who are descendants of nox temselves. The light threatening to expunge the night is likely Ymir's creed of refusing the moons and turning to the greater will?

And at the end we have the Jolan and Anna spirit ashes, that say

[Ashen remains in which spirits yet dwell. Use to summon the spirits of Jolán and Anna. Spirits of two Swordhands of Night, one of them being possessed by Count Ymir's doll Anna. Together, Jolán's sword and Anna's claws are as bottomless black, and penetrate the enemy's guard. Jolán and Anna were born in a cold, dark gaol, where they were raised, deprived of light, to be Swordhands of Night. Thus were they cultivated to become the most terrifying masters of their blades, though the burden of the deed left their hearts frail and pliant.]

The wording used to refer to Anna, aka doll (aside from her being turned into a literal doll) + the fact that they are described as having frail and pliant hearts implies that at least there is some manipulation on Ymir's side, probably relating to their nox heritage and weird metyr shit, and i feel like the missing piece of the puzzle is whatever was happening in the rabbath rise, aka where we find anna's doll body. Even the doll thing in itself is interesting because the other characters we know that do that are seluvis/pidia and some unkown nox scholars

Actually Yuri being a human child gives me a huge bowl of mental food. Who was the true mother of Yuri then? Could Ymir have a wife that he forgot because of insanity? He says that he failed to "birth Yuri whole". Is it about fingercreeper that was on his hands? Or he tried to give Yuri birth trough fingercreeper? Maybe Yuri was just born sick with a short lifespan?

Maybe Yuri died at the very young age and that led Ymir to Metyr - he was trying to get how a mother creates healthy children and how motherhood works. Could he have grudge against his wife that gave birth to Yuri? Could he blame her so much that he had forgotten her and his memories had been replaced?

Also I have thought of Mandela effect - a phenomenon in which a person forms memories of facts that did not actually occur or that occurred at a different point in time. My husband suggested that Ymir may have false memories about his child or birthing him? (Cool theory I think!) Because in the same dialogue we wants to bring Yuri back and says that he failed to birth him whole. In my opinion, those two phrases are adressed to different beings - one to a boy and a second to fingercreeper. Ymir is insane for sure, poor man. Welcome to my insane blorbos fanplace.

And also!! A big question to Jolan. If we go down, under Ymir's throne before he gives us a map, we encounter Anna there, she invaded and tries to kill us. Although I checked - at the very beginning of the quest she is already a doll. Whose doll is she? Why invading? If we tell Jolan about her sister, she says that she "understood everything" but "still has one star and His words..." - okay, I got it, it's about Ymir, but girl what did you understand, PLEASE SHARE.

Also if we encounter Anna and go under Cathedral before Ymir asks to do it, he will ask if we saw a weird creature down there. He knows everything. He wants us to find Metyr. Who does Anna serve? Why Jolan calls our actions heresy (no I actually can understand Why, but without context of Ymir)?

[noira-l]

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 "𝐘𝐞𝐬"!

⋆ ★ '𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞' - 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

chapter summary: Satoru has finally found a way around the bureaucracy! Simple, ingenious, and by the way… he proposed marriage to you! Countless times...

pairing: gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader

warnings: fluff, annoying Satoru, a compilation of attempts to convince you to marry him.

author's note: I don't need to explain to anyone how stubborn Satoru can be when he wants something c;

The end of school was approaching and you were both busy with exams, missions and the overwhelming responsibilities of your sorcerer lives.

But then things started to get complicated with the adoption of Tsumiki and Megumi. Bureaucratic complications, delays in paperwork and constant questions from officials about living conditions. It wasn't that you didn't want to care about the children - on the contrary, they were the ones you were now focusing on the most. But with each passing day, the adoption process became more and more difficult, and the legal bureaucracy was a tangle you couldn't unravel.

You were met with the undeniable truth, you couldn't live on school grounds with the children. Yaga had been firm, his face as unreadable as ever when he told you it simply wasn’t an option. They were too young, he had explained, for the things they might see here. You hated to admit it, but he was right.

Satoru had flat-out refused to house the kids at his clan’s headquarters. His words were sharp, unbending, like an iron door slamming shut - 'No way, I’m not dragging those kids into that mess."

And you? You didn’t have a home anymore. Not really. You had never planned for this, for the sudden responsibility of two children to rear and protect. Not like this.

There was an overwhelming shame creeping in, the thought of overstaying your welcome at the school. Yaga had said you could stay for as long as necessary, but you couldn't help but feel the weight of it. The image of yourself lingering at the school grounds - post graduation, older, with two children in tow - haunted you. You needed to find a place of your own, a real home, somewhere for Megumi and Tsumiki to grow without the specter of danger hanging over them.

And then, there was the reality of your financial situation. It was almost laughable. Though Satoru, as you soon learned, was disgustingly rich, that wealth was locked away behind the vaults of the Gojo clan. For now, all he had access to was his paycheck, and though his salary as a special-grade sorcerer far outstripped yours, it was still nowhere near enough to cover what you needed - housing, legal fees, everything. And you still wanted to share expanses.

It had been a moment of desperation when you tried to adopt them yourself first. The government official had glanced over your file and turned you down almost immediately, barely glancing at your credentials. The sting of that rejection lingered, a bitter taste in your mouth.

When Satoru tried, things seemed to move a little more smoothly, but the gears of the system were still grinding too slowly. Every day felt like another step backward, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that the longer this dragged on, the greater the chance the Zen'in clan would swoop in and take Megumi. The thought made your blood run cold.

After one particularly gruelling meeting with a government official, during which your status and living conditions were questioned, Satoru first threw out the idea.

It had been late, the sky above painted in shades of pink and gold as the sun sank below the horizon, the last rays of daylight casting long shadows across the school grounds. You both sat on the steps outside, staring out at the sprawling campus before you. Despite the breathtaking view, your mind was a tangle of frustration and helplessness, the weight of the situation settling heavily in your chest.

Satoru leaned back, resting his elbows on a stone, and looked at you with a thoughtful expression on his face that didn't quite match the playful gleam in his eyes.

"You know." Satoru said suddenly, his voice calm, almost too casual for the gravity of the moment "If we got married, all this paperwork would be easier. Like, a lot easier."

For a second, you blinked, not sure if you had heard him correctly. You turned to him, incredulous, your mind scrambling to catch up.

"What?" you said raising a brow to him.

"Marriage." he said again, shrugging as if it were the most natural thing in the world "On paper, of course. It’d make the adoption process smoother. We present ourselves as a couple, and everything falls into place."

You laughed, the sound escaping your lips more out of disbelief than amusement "That’s… the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard, Satoru." you shook your head, standing up and brushing the dust off your pants "Are you even listening to yourself?"

He grinned, leaning in closer with that mischievous look you’d seen so many times before.

"Oh, I’m listening. And I’m making sense. It’s logical. Think about it- everyone loves a married couple. It’s easier for them to trust us, easier to approve everything. We get the kids and we make sure they’re not stuck in some bureaucratic limbo, and it’ll all work out."

You rolled your eyes, starting to walk away from him, but the absurdity of the idea lingered in the back of your mind.

"You’re insane." you muttered, glancing back over your shoulder.

"Think about it!" his voice echoed after you, still playful, but you could sense the genuine offer buried beneath it "It’s a great plan!"

★ --

One late afternoon, the sun hung low in the sky, casting long golden rays across the campus as the two of you sat on the stone steps outside the dormitory. The warmth of spring had just begun to settle in, and everything felt fresh, except the familiar topic Satoru decided to bring up once more.

"Y’know." he said, not even bothering to look at you this time, staring up at the clouds instead "It’s a nice day for a wedding."

"Can you please drop this?" you groaned, burying your face in your hands as if that might somehow make his persistence vanish.

Satoru shifted slightly, turning his head to face you. His grin, as usual, was irrepressible, but there was a softness in his eyes "Why would I? You still haven’t given me a good reason not to do it. Every time I bring it up, all I hear is how practical it would be."

"Because it’s ridiculous!" you snapped, frustration bubbling to the surface as you stared back at him "We’re not... we’re not even a real couple, Satoru. Why would we pretend to be something we’re not?"

Satoru’s grin didn’t waver. If anything, it seemed to widen as though he had been waiting for this moment.

"Why not?" he teased, his voice filled with amusement but also with something deeper, something that unsettled you "We already plan to raise two kids together. We've sleept in the same bed sometimes, when it was cold, or we’ve had a bad day. Face it - we already act like a married couple."

The words hung between you, settling into the quiet air around you like the last piece of a puzzle clicking into place. You opened your mouth to argue, but the sharp retort you had prepared never left your lips. Instead, you found yourself speechless, staring at him, because- damn it - he wasn’t so wrong.

Still, you shook your head, more to convince yourself than him "This wasn't the same, and you know it."

But he only shrugged, a look of confidence lingering in his expression as if he knew you’d eventually come around.

★ --

There were the quieter moments of persistence, when Satoru’s usual teasing faded into something more subdued, but no less determined. Like one evening, after a particularly long day, you found him sitting in the common room, flipping through paperwork related to the adoption process. You collapsed beside him, your body heavy with exhaustion, the weight of everything pressing down on you.

Without even looking up, Satoru’s voice broke the silence "Did you know that married couples get fast-tracked for adoption approval?"

"Satoru, please." you groaned, sinking deeper into the cushions as though you could physically melt away from the conversation.

He glanced over at you, his grin widening as he waved the papers slightly "I’m just saying. It’s an option. A very practical one."

You covered your face with a pillow, muffling your exasperated groan. "Why are you like this?"

"Because I’m right." he said, smug as ever "And deep down, you know it."

★ --

A lazy Sunday afternoon, and you were sitting in your dorm, relaxing with a book.

Satoru entered the room, hands behind his back, humming some ridiculous tune. You glanced up warily, immediately suspicious of the way he was grinning.

"What now?" you asked, already bracing yourself.

"Nothing." he said innocently, though his eyes sparkled with mischief "Just thought I’d bring you something." he pulled his hands from behind his back, revealing a bouquet of flowers - wild, messy, clearly picked from somewhere nearby.

You blinked "What is this?"

"Just thought I’d bring you some flowers." he said, sitting down beside you on the bed and handing them over "Consider it a peace offering."

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical "For what?"

"For being so annoying." he said with a smirk, though his eyes were unusually soft "But also… as a wedding gift, in advance."

You groaned, shoving the flowers back at him "I’m not marrying you, Satoru."

He chuckled, taking the flowers back, but not looking deterred in the least "You say that now, but wait until you see the cake I have planned."

★ --

It was the middle of the night when you went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. You were going to bed. The mission had been exhausting, and all you wanted was to get back and rest. Of course, Satoru had already managed to find you and follow you to your room.

"Soooo~" Satoru began, his tone almost sing-song as he glanced over at you.

You immediately knew where this was going "Don’t even start."

He ignored you completely "I’ve been thinking - again - and I’ve come up with the perfect reason for us to get married."

You sighed, rubbing your temples "I’m really not in the mood, Satoru."

"Hear me out." he said, his voice teasing but somehow more serious this time "We’re already spending all our time together. We're friends. Like really close ones. Hell, we even know each other’s bad habits. It wouldn’t be that different from what we’re already doing."

You looked at him, exhaustion settling into your bones "Satoru- "

"I’m just saying." he cut you off, his tone gentler now, but still carrying that playful edge "I’d be a great husband. I’d let you win every argument. I’d let you pick the TV shows we watch. I’d even give you the last slice of pizza."

Despite yourself, you laughed "The last slice? That’s a big deal for you."

"See?" he grinned, clearly pleased with himself "I’m already husband material."

★ --

Of course, there were days when Satoru’s persistence was anything but quiet. One afternoon, he tried to enlist Shoko in his scheme. The two of you were sitting in her office, discussing an upcoming mission, when Satoru barged in with his usual dramatic flair.

"Hey, Shoko!" he said, all smiles as he leaned against the wall "Don’t you think we’d make a great married couple?"

Shoko didn’t even glance up from the papers she was reviewing "Are you still going on about that?" she asked, her tone dripping with disinterest.

Satoru shrugged, his grin never faltering "What? We both know she’d love to marry me."

You glared at him, your patience wearing thin "Satoru, I swear- "

But Shoko snorted, finally looking up with an amused smirk. "Honestly, I don’t know who’s worse. You for asking, or her for tolerating you."

"Hey!" you both said in unison, but even you couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped.

★ --

Time passed, and the teasing evolved. Satoru wasn’t just bringing it up in private anymore - oh no, now it was a full-blown spectacle. One afternoon, you were walking across the school grounds, arms full of paperwork, when Satoru suddenly appeared in front of you, out of nowhere, blocking your path.

"Will you marry me?!" he asked loudly, his grin wide, as if he were proposing in front of an audience.

A group of students nearby turned to stare, whispering and giggling among themselves.

Your face flushed with embarrassment, and you shot him a death glare "Are you out of your mind? People are watching!"

Satoru shrugged, unfazed by the attention "Let them watch. I’ll give them a show." he winked at one of the students who was clearly gawking at the scene "She’s playing hard to get."

You groaned, exasperated, and pushed past him "I’m going to murder you in your sleep."

"Ah, see? That’s marriage talk already." he called after you, his laughter trailing behind.

★ --

And then there were the days when Satoru’s persistence crossed over into full-blown ridiculousness.

It was a bright, sunny afternoon, and you were heading to a café to grab lunch. Satoru, as always, had found a way to tag along, much to your annoyance. You both sat at an outdoor table, sipping drinks while you waited for your food to arrive.

As you absentmindedly check your phone, Satoru leaned across the table and placed a small velvet box right in front of you. You froze, staring at it like it was a bomb ready to explode.

"What… is this?"

He waggled his eyebrows in a dramatic fashion "Open it."

You hesitated, but finally flipped open the box, revealing… a plastic ring, the kind you’d get from a toy vending machine.

"Satoru." your voice was flat, unimpressed.

"Hey, it’s a placeholder." he said with a grin, leaning back in his chair, looking entirely too pleased with himself "We can get the real one when you say yes."

You stared at him, utterly speechless for a moment, before you closed the box and shoved it back toward him "Get out of my sight."

"But you didn’t say no!" he teased, picking up the box and twirling it between his fingers.

"I hate you."

"You love me." he said, beaming "But, seriously, think about it. The kids would get off welfare immediately, and we wouldn’t have to deal with all the bureaucracy."

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "You’ve been asking me this for months."

"And I’ll keep asking," he said, his tone light but his eyes serious now "Until you see that it makes sense. For Megumi and Tsumiki, for you… for us."

★ --

Eventually, after months of playful persistence, logical reasoning, and over-the-top proposals, you found yourself sitting next to him on the bed, in his room.

Should you do it?

You stared at the ceiling, your mind running through the endless logistics of what would come next: the paperwork, the explanations, the questions from friends and colleagues. It felt surreal, and yet, a small part of you - one you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge - wasn’t entirely uncomfortable with the idea of marrying Satoru. If anyone could navigate this strange situation, it was him.

He was, after all, your closest companion.

Satoru shifted beside you, and you could feel his eyes on you. He hadn’t moved to push or tease you like he normally would; instead, there was a softness, a strange patience that you weren’t used to from him.

"You're thinking too hard." he said, his voice quieter now, lacking its usual playful edge.

"Satoru." you said quietly, not looking at him.

"Hm?" He glanced over at you, waiting.

You turned to look at him then, studying the way his expression softened just enough to remind you that underneath the bravado and charm, he cared. Maybe more than he let on.

"If I agree to this... stupid marriage thing." you said slowly, weighing every word carefully "You- "

"No strings, no weirdness. I promise." he leaned in closer, interrupting your serious tone with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You shot him a look, warning him not to get too cocky, but there was something a little infectious about the way he smiled at you.

"You better keep that promise." you muttered, shaking your head as you lay down on his bed.

"Oh, trust me." he said with a wink, "I'm a man of my word."

You sighed, the weight of your decision settling in "I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this."

Satoru chuckled, reaching out to lightly pat your shoulder.

"Hey, look at it this way - we’ll make a great team. Plus, you get to say you’re married to the most charming guy in the world."

"Don’t push it, Gojo." you shot him a tired look.

© noira-l 2024 | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, or redistirbute my work without permission

tl (open): @kalopsia-flaneur

[nyctoaerah]

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋

╰┈➤𝐒𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒: Who would've known that the man you spent a night with was the very same man that you're planning to kill? It was a cruel twist of fate, cause as you spent more time with him, you found yourself growing attached-inlove even. But, you ended up knowing the truth about suguru’s death, and the thirst for justice and redemption for Suguru consumed you. The pursuit of absolution drove you to consider any means necessary, even if it meant risking your own well-being, your sanity, your very essence. You were willing to sacrifice everything just to obtain the revenge you so desperately craved, even going as far as to ignore your feelings for Satoru. After all, it doesn't really matter, because Gojo Satoru was yours, he was yours to play with, he was yours to manipulate, and yours to kill, and he’s not complaining about it.

╰┈➤𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: explicit smut, dub-con (kinda since they’re drunk) overstimulation, drunk sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (both m and f receiving), dirty talk, nasty shit all that. Virginity loss.

╰┈➤𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Yandere! Gojo Satoru x Fem! Op! Assassin! Suguru's adopted daughter! Reader

╰┈➤𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: This story is the revamped version of my previous fic “Devil in Disguise” it has the same plot, but this one just has a better story flow in my point of view;) also available in Wattpad and Quotev! Hearts and reblogs are greatly appreciated! I already posted this, but this time, i extended it and actually posted the full smut;33 Also, random fact; Gojo’s fingers are canonically 6 inches;)

╰┈➤𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Next chapter

YOU HAD SOUGHT REFUGE in the confines of a random club, craving the numbness that alcohol promised.

You were hoping that the pulsating music vibrating through your bones and swirling burn of alcohol would drown out the  hollow emptiness you were feeling, you wanted to push all of your thoughts aside—to forget about Suguru’s death.

Just that, all you wanted was to drink and feel the buzz.

So how did you find yourself in this compromising position, your body entwined with a random man whose name you didn’t even knew?

How did you end up on his lap, on his bed, making out with him?

The kiss was feverish, your tongue sliding sensually against his, the taste of his mouth was reminiscent of the tangy sweetness of freshly ripened strawberries, yet there’s also this faint tang of alcohol, a flavor lingering from his previous indulgence, perhaps.

A needy whine escaped your lips as your hips undulated against his, seeking greater friction.

“So impatient...” He mumbled as one of his hands gripped your hip to keep you in place, while the other hiked the fabric of your dress up to your waist, exposing your bare skin to his heated touch.

“Can i?”

You whispered, your voice barely audible in the dimly lit room. His breath hitched as your fingers grazed the silk blindfold covering his eyes. 

“Do as you please pretty girl. I’m all yours.”

You hooked your fingers beneath the bandages and slowly, reverently, lifted it away, revealing eyes half-lidded and swimming with lust.

Long, white lush lashes framed irises the deep, captivating blue of the ocean. Your breath caught in your throat—he looked so exquisitely, devastatingly beautiful without the concealing fabric—He was already pretty with the blindfold on, but gods was he smokin’ hot without it—You’re not sure if you’re just exaggerating things, but fuck, did he looked ethereal.

His snow-white hair tumbled down to veil his face in a curtain, softening the sharp spiky hairstyle he had when he was wearing a blindfold.

You bit your lip, watching as the rounded bump just under the skin in the front of his throat bobs ever so slightly at your intense gaze. A slight flush heats up on his skin, and you touched it, pressing the pads of your fingers on his skin.

You scarcely had a moment to bask in the sight before he took the discarded blindfold from your hand and let it fall to the floor, forgotten.

His mouth explored the sensitive column of your neck, tongue tracing lazy, meandering paths.

You arched into his touch slightly, wanting for more contact, craving the delicious friction that might ease the aching tension coiled low in your belly.

“You sure that this is what you want princess?” His silky baritone caressed your ear as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along your shoulders.

“I don’t wanna take advantage of you, not when you’re drunk.”

“Mhm.. m’ sure.”

Though the drink had clouded your mind, beneath the shallows of intoxication stirred a deeper craving—something you never felt before, you’re sure that you wanted him.

“I’m not drunk.”

His brows arched in doubt as his hand glides down your spine with practiced care, finding the clasp that holds your dress in place, the clasp yields to his deft fingers, baring your flesh to his exploring gaze.

“Your words say yea, angel, but i don’t want no dubious consent. I want full consent.” 

“No, S’ not dubious, you have my full consent.” you murmur, trailing your hands along his neck, tracing the pulsing vein in it before your hands dipped down and slipped beneath the hem of his shirt. Your fingers trace slow circles over his taut abs, feeling the contours of hard muscle and flush skin.    

His body was warm, and quite nice, comforting even.

He shivers at your delicate touch—which you found to be quite cute.

You found his words weird, however—It contrasts with his actions, that’s for sure.

“I want you, okay?” you breathed on his ear, eliciting a visible response upon his flesh as shivers caressed his form. He swallowed with effort, aroused yet wary, cognizant of the libations which dulled your inhibitions as his own.

Satoru was in no means a person who likes alcohol, he hates it, infact, however, he ended up drinking, just in hopes to forget about Suguru.

Very much like you so.

But he didn’t really expected that he would end up having a woman on his lap, not that he’s complaining, ofcourse. You’re quite beautiful after all.

“Hey...It’s still dubious, can be counted as non-consensual too. Cause you’re drunk. I don’t wanna take advantage of you, okay?” He said.

You fixated your gaze on him, a brief moment of silent observation passing between you. His movements, though tinged with a subtle languor, was filled with restraint, that surpassed your own faltering self-control.

“Nope.”

you insist softly.

“I’m not drunk.”

His eyes smolder as he considers your flushed cheeks and parted lips.

“Your speech is slurred.”

“Nope, S’just an effect from you,” You replied with a lopsided grin.

“You take my breath away.” You mumbled, prompting him to blink owlishly down at you.

“Random as fuck.” He chuckled.

“But, i’ll take it. Just tell me to stop and i’ll stop, yeah?”

Your heart fluttered rapidly at his words, and a faint blush crept onto your cheeks as you swallowed thickly, your throat suddenly felt too tight, too dry.

After all, You hadn’t expected such considerate behavior after everything, such genteel conduct took you aback.

“Safeword?” you asked, your voice slightly unsteady.

“hm.. Strawberry?” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

“Wait...” you say, craving the taste of his name on your tongue, “I still don’t know your name”

His brow lifts in amusement.

“Would you scream it if i were to tell you?”

You shivered as his warm breath tickled the sensitive skin of your neck His lips hovered so tantalizingly close that you could almost feel his ghostly touch against your skin, tempting you to lean into it.

“Don’t worry. I won’t leave any marks, unless you want me to..?”  His voice was velvety smooth, laced with a hint of lust, causing a flutter in the pit of your stomach.

“Do you want me to?” He murmurs, slowly withdrawing his touch from your skin.

You hesitantly lift your shoulders in response, shrugging.

“Speak, angel, use your words.”

“I’m fine with anything,” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper.

A pleasant hum escaped him. “Good girl.”

You looked at him, pupils dilating slightly.

“You never answered my question though. What’s your name?” you uttered softly, your fingertips caressing the contours of his abdominal musculature in delicate strokes, tracing upwards towards his pectorals. As your hands explored the topography of his torso, drawing sensual patterns across his flesh, his breathing became heavier. He let out a hum of approval, hooking his fingers beneath the hem of his garment and lifting it swiftly over his head in one fluid motion and discarding his shirt on the ground.

You lifted your gaze to meet his, your eyes instinctively drawn to the pale line bisecting his torso. The scar was long, yet its texture intrigued you. How did he got it, you wondered.  The scar was long, begining from his throat towards his lower abdomen.

It fascinated you.

You swallowed thickly.

“Can i touch it...?” 

“Do whatever you want. I’m all yours.”

Your fingers drifted slowly along its length.

“Satoru,”

“My name is Satoru.” he uttered the name, and for some reasons, each syllable was laced with a familiarity that tugged at the edges of your memory, muddling your thoughts with a sense of déjà vu.

But you were too loss in the moment, not even able to think clearly, thus, you were oblivious to the fact that...

He’s the person that you’re planning to assassinate.

“That’s a pretty name,” you breathed, your pulse quickening at his caress.

“I’m pretty sure yours is pretty too.” he replied with a soft smile, his blue eyes staring intensely at yours as his thumb swept slowly along your lower lip, parting them like the velvet petals of a rose. An intoxicating shiver ran through your body at his delicate touch.

“[Name],” You mumble and he sighs.

“Sounds like a good name to groan about.”

He murmured and lifted you off him and lied you amongst the silken pillows, your [H/c] tresses fanned out, forming a vivid halo around your flushed features. His eyes lingered over your form, his tongue swiping on  his lower lip to moisten them.

“Alright, Just say the safeword, and i’ll stop, yeah?” He says, earning a nod from you.

“Speak.”

“M-mnh.. yes”

“Good girl.” He praised softly.

“I’ll do all the work, yeah? Just lay down there like a good girl n’ let me please you.”

Slowly, his lips brushed the skin of your neck, eliciting a sigh from you. his fingertips traced your spine down to the clasp of your bra, and a quiet flick of experient fingers released the barrier, freeing your chest to his hungry gaze.

“Beautiful.” He complimented.

His fingertips leisurely caress delicate circles around your nipples, coaxing a delicious ache of pleasure to ignite. He lavishes attentions on one nipple, drawing it into his mouth while his nimble digits continue their expert ministrations on its twin, evoking an unabashed moan to escape your quivering lips.

He lets go off your nipples with a pop.

Starting at the base of your sternum, he planted slow, sensuous kisses, inching ever lower towards regions still untouched. When he reached your stomach, he placed a gentle kiss on your belly button.

Moving away from the bed with graceful precision, he knelt before your quivering form and slid greedy hands along your thighs, grasping your hips to pull you on the edge of the bed, so that his head was completely positioned between your legs. A wanton moan escaped you then as he lifted one leg high, draping it over his broad shoulder.

“Relax, f’me pretty girl.” He said, after noticing how tense your body is.

You watched, enamoured as he pressed a line of searing kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh—he looked so pretty while doing that.

He hummed as he saw the dampness in your underwear.

“Look at you,” he chuckled breathily.

“All we did was kiss, n’ you’re already soakin’ wet.”

His lips traced delicate patterns along your thigh, each fleeting caress like liquid fire on your fevered skin.

Fuck, who would’ve known that he’ll turn you in a whining mess with just his kisses?

Humiliation blooms in your throat as you realized how pathetic you are right now, You clasped a hand over your flushed visage, heart pounding erratically against your ribs.

Satoru seemed displeased with that though.

“Hey, none of ‘that” He scolds.

“Lemme see your pretty face.”

You took a ragged breath, though anticipation swirled within you, nervousness lingered at your edges. But then, this is what you wanted isn’t it?

“I-i don’t wanna.” 

He scoffs and shifted his weight, pressing you further into the pillows.

“Do it.” He says.

You shook your head and he sighs.

“If y’don’t take your hands off your face, i’ll tie you up n’ fuck you till you can’t walk.” 

“ S’ that what you want angel?”

“No..” You sighed, not wanting to get tied up, you slowly curled your fingers away from your flushed face.

“You’re so shameless...” You mumble.

“Yeah, no shame at all. Why would i be shameful of myself when I have a pretty lil’ thing like you under me? All soakin’ wet n�� pretty.”

“Besides... I know you like it anyways,” He mumbled.

Satoru’s tongue, hot and wet, darted out to leave a scorching trail against the tender flesh of your inner thighs.

You sighed, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation.

“Open your eyes n’ look at me, pretty.”

“I want you to look at me while i eat you out.”

This is so embarrassing and humiliating that it hurts, your throat constricts, his words makes you embarrassed, he was just so blunt, so shameless—he was all so sweet and using romantic words when you’re just kissing.

But fuck, did satoru changed once you gave him your consent, pressin’ you on the sheets like that and saying filthy words.

You reluctantly fluttered your lashes open to meet his stare, laying yourself bare as fingertips ghosted ever higher.

“See? That’s a good girl. Now just lie there princess, let me make you feel good.”

You felt yourself swallowing thickly as he hooked nimble fingers into the lacy edge of your undergarments, sliding the delicate fabric down your legs.

It was slow, agonizingly slow, too slow for your own liking.

Your body suddenly involuntarily jolted as a wave of his scorching breath caressed the intimate flesh between your legs.

“So pretty..” His words were a low murmur, infused with a hunger that made humiliation to bubble up your chest, feeling embarrassed.

“Don’t... don’t stare,” you murmur back, feeling self conscious, flush of embarrassment tinged your cheeks, your hips shifting involuntarily beneath his intense gaze.

“Don’t stare... S’ making me embarrassed.”

With a devilish smirk dancing on his lips, he gave another teasing lick on your thighs. Satoru wouldn’t lie, he wanted to bite your thigh so bad, sink his teeth on your plush thighs, and leave a mark, but he restrained himself from doing so.

“No, m’not staring love, just... studying, don’t be embarrassed” he murmured almost innocently, his words a stark contrast to the boldness of his actions.

“Besides... You’re so beautiful in here... You just can’t just expect me to not compliment it.” He says.

You shook your head. “It’s not that... It’s just.. i.. i haven’t done this before.” You mumble.

“Haven’t done oral before?” He questioned, watching as your face burned as you shook your head.

“I’m a virgin.” You confirmed.

His sapphire eyes widened at your confession and his throat constricts, adams apple bobbing in his throat.

The revelation caught him off guard, each breath he took feeling like a fleeting gasp of surprise. He had not expected this revelation, not from you. Your actions had spoken of confidence and skill, and, damn, you sure did like a seductress.

His hand twitched, the pads of his fingers pressing on your thighs slightly.

“No wonder you’re so shy...”

He pulled back slightly, a tinge of guilt creeping into his consciousness at the notion of overwhelming you. Aware that his dirty words may be foreign to your ears, he gazes upon you with a mixture of empathy and desire.

“We can stop this if you want.” he offers, his gaze intense and probing.

“Shit no.” you murmur.

“Don’t stop. I want you.” The words escape your lips in a breathy whisper, laden with lust, restraint flickers in his eyes, as he caught his lower lip on his teeth.

“If you say so. I have a thing for popping cherries anyways,” He says with a laugh. 

Your breath suddenly caught in your throat as his thumb glided teasingly over your clit.

A playful chuckle escaped his lips at your sensitivity, before he leaned in once again, his warm breath ghosting over your heated skin as he kissed your clit.

“Sensitive, are we?” he chuckles softly before dipping down to give your throbbing clit yet another teasing lick, releasing a desperate whimper from your parted lips.

His fingers gently spread apart your folds, his face inches away as his tongue teases your slit, the wet muscles licks the slick trail that has gathered on your pussy, eliciting soft whimpers from you as your body instinctively responds with a slight arching of your hips.

“aah.. hnngh, satoru”  You mewled.

“You taste so good... heavenly even.”

With another tantalizing lick, he savors the exquisite taste of your arousal. His hungry mouth then latches onto your pulsating clit, sucking on it gently. Moans escaped your parted lips as you clutch onto the sheets.

He devoured you as if starved, his hunger palpable in each expert lick and fervent suck, transforming you into a feast he couldn’t devour quickly enough—Your moans were like delicious music to his ears, and fuck, did it it make him hard. He whines, grinding against the edge of the bed, seeking friction.

“I can just eat you out everyday and not get tired of it...” he moaned shamelessly, his voice slightly muffled as your hips bucked involuntarily, a whimper of pleasure escaping your lips.

“Love your taste so much.”

Satoru’s tongue moved skillfully around your clit, softly brushing against it to send shivers down your spine. With deliberate movements, he gently licked it in distinct patterns, exploring your most sensitive spots.  

His fingers grip tightly onto your hip, while he eagerly indulges in pleasuring and sucking on your bundle of nerves, causing a titillating sensation that makes your inner muscles contract and a surge of euphoria creates a swirling sensation in your stomach.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, pretty girl?” satoru whispers, his words muffled by his persistent oral ministrations. As he continues to pleasure you with unwavering determination, the pleasure he evokes from within you cannot be contained, escaping your lips in the form of unrestrained moans. The pleasure becomes so overwhelming that it threatens to engulf your vision, as though a curtain of stars is poised to blind you from the outside world.  

“Fuck, Satoru, i-i’m.. haaah..” You panted, thighs shaking as your insides contracts, a tingling sensation radiating on your body.

“I know. C’mon. Cum for me, angel. Lemme taste you on my tongue,”

You let out a deep moan, succumbing to the intense climax as you cum hard. Radiating satisfaction, satoru hummed contentedly while skillfully lapping up every trace of your released essence.

“You taste like heaven itself, just like i thought...” he whispered, his voice filled with longing, as he withdrew from your pussy and stood up and pressed his lips against yours. The taste of your own cum lingered on his mouth, intoxicating and arousing, causing you to moan in pleasure before surrendering to his passionate kiss. 

As the two of you kissed, his touch ventured lower, his hand finding its way to your puffy clit again, rubbing it, prompting a chorus of moans from you.

Your breath hitched when you felt his middle finger probing your hole gathering your slick before slowly pushing inside.

“Breathe.” He whispers.

“Hngnh, Satoru.” You whined on his mouth as he added another, his fingers were so long and thick, filling you so deliciously. The sensation of his fingers stretching you from within was intense and slightly painful, yet somehow enjoyable in its own way. 

“You’re so tight, you gotta relax n’ let me in.”

You bit his tongue, causing him to let out a low moan.

“There..  you gotta adjust.. that’s it, good girl.” He murmurs, whispering sweet nothings into you.

Satoru’s cock throbbed painfully beneath his straining trousers, yet he focused solely on pleasuring you, expertly thrusting his fingers in and out of you. When he grazed upon a certain tender zone, an eyebrow arched knowingly as your riven flesh clenched tightly around his digits as he pulled away for a bit.

“Ahn.. hnn please,” You panted.

“Oh?” He purred slyly.

“Hm? Is something wrong?” He murmured, once more curling his finger upwards and pressing that spot within your pussy, drawing forth a lustrous moan as your arched your velvet back in pleasure.   

“You tightened around me, did i hit a good spot?”

“this is where you’re weak, isn’t it?” His digits thrust rhythmically into your inner sanctum, coaxing ever more ardent moans of euphoria from your lips.

“How cute.”

A molten pool of desire gathered low in your belly, waves of euphoria washing over your trembling frame.  

Satoru bit his lip as his hand slid stealthily down within his own constrained trousers, swiftly freeing his engorged member to pump smoothly within his curled fingers.

His thumb smeared the precum that was leaking on the tip, using it as a lube to slowly jerk off.

“Aahh... Fuck..” he moaned gutturally, his fingers, still buried deep within your moisture-slicked cunt, he withdrew his fingers sluggishly and raised it languidly to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste your essence.

“C’mere.” he says, sitting upright and patting his lap

His voice was ragged with want as he beckoned you closer. You rose from the rumpled bedsheets and moved to him, sitting on his lap, feeling the heat of his gaze as it roamed your naked form.

“Kiss me.” He commands.

You immediately kissed him, the taste of your essence still upon his mouth, and it made butterflies fluttering in your stomach. His cock pressed against your skin as he stroked himself.

“haah... Feel that princess? ’m so hard for you”

Breaking the kiss, you gazed down at satoru, drinking in his beauty as your fingers traced the lines of his chiselled abdomen, following each dip and swell. Your mouth followed the path of your hand, pressing feathery kisses along the scar that he had, revelling in each hitch of his breath and twitch of muscle beneath your ministrations. 

Your gaze then lingered on his cock, admiring its size and girth. The tip was flushed red with arousal, and it twitched at your gaze, you pushed his hand away from it.

He seemed to be surprised at that—yet didn’t make a move to stop you.

“Ah, Ah? Did i told you that you can touch me?” He teased.

You nipped on your lower lip, as you tentatively wrapped your hand around his shaft, marveling at its sheer thickness that challenged your grip.

“No... But i wanted to touch you.” You mumbled, You ache for deeper intimacy, craving the solace of flesh against flesh in your drunken haze. 

“Mmnh.. maybe if you’re really that desperate... Maybe i should just give it to you, hm?”

“Tell me what you want.” he says, his fingers entwining in your hair, tugging gently to lift your gaze to his. A moan escapes you.

“You,” you manage to breathe out, the craving evident in your eyes. His eyebrow quirks.

“Be specific.”  he murmurs, his tone commanding and seductive.

“I wanna please you too,” you confess, your words laced with need—all the shyness from before leaving you, only lust remains. He exhales heavily, releasing his hold on your hair.

“So eager to please aren’t you? Such a good girl.”

He hums.

“Go on. Suck me off, show me what that pretty little mouth can do.”

As you followed his command, you delicately bent down and rested your head on his cock. Extending your tongue, you dragged the flat of your tongue and traced the vein that prominently bulged on the underside of his dick.

Your tongue slowly traced a path up his shaft, moving towards the tip. With anticipation, you opened your mouth to take him in, feeling a bit of discomfort as you adjusted to his size. It took some time for your jaw to accommodate the width of his girth as his tip brushed against the back of your throat. 

You looked only to see that he was only half way in, and shit, you just realized how much he’s gonna hurt your throat.

 “Ngh.. you gotta relax your throat if you want to take me in your mouth.” he moans, sensing your discomfort as you struggle not to gag. Following his instruction, you comply, feeling Satoru's sharp intake of breath as he nips his lip in pleasure.

Despite the sensation being pleasing, it's clear that he craves more.

“C’mon angel, take me deeper.” he urges softly, his fingers entangling on your [H/c] locks, his gaze fixated on your hollowed cheeks and watery eyes. The sight of your tears only serves to fuel his desire to push himself further into your mouth, relishing the idea of watching you Choke on him. The thought of you looking so enticing in that vulnerable state drives him to actually thrust himself deeper down your throat. 

Satoru thrusts upwards, causing your throat to constrict as you struggled to breathe. Tears ran down your cheeks and saliva dripped onto his shaft.

“Breathe through your nose.” He instructs.

“That’s it,” he uttered with a sensual groan, his eyes half-closed as he guided your head to move back and forth on his dick. He licked his lips, observing you as you found it difficult to deepthroat him.

He hummed contentedly, the room filled with nasty squelching sounds. He savored the feeling of your throat tightening around his cock like a vice.

Such a poor thing, he thought, feeling your fingers dig into his thighs.  He ran his fingers through your [H/c] tresses before slowly withdrawing from your mouth with an audible pop, a strand of viscous fluid on your lips cheeks flushed and eyes dewy.

“That’s enough, i don’t want you vomitting on my dick.”

Gingerly, he swept the disheveled locks from your face and captured your lips once more, not giving you a time to recover, humming as he tasted himself on you. When at last you broke for air, chests heaving in unison, he met your hooded gaze with a glint of intrigue.

“You suck at this.” A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as his strong hands found your waist.

“M’ sorry,”  

You shuddered involuntarily as his fingers delicately traced the contours of your neck, eliciting a chill that radiated through your trembling form. Soft whimpers escaped your quivering lips.

“Shhh..” he cooed in a velvet tenor, his palm softly gliding along your side before his digits pressed deeply into the plush of your ass. A small gasp passed through your slightly parted mouth at the fervent sensation of his fingernails gingerly clawing your supple skin. 

“I know that y’wanna please me.”

“But there is no need to overexert yourself,” he said as if he wasn’t the one who practically shoved your face down on his dick.

“I enjoyed it,”

“D-did you?” you inquired.

“Fuck yes, your throat’s squeezin’ me so tight n’ it feels good.” 

A swelling sensation arose within your thorax as elation is in your throat, though an acute pain seized your esophagus. Your larynx felt inflamed and raw, as if scoured by sandpaper. But despite the troubles afflicting your throat, you had performed admirably based on his praise, you felt proud.

“Maybe i should reward you for bein’ so good?” he purrs, his hand sliding from your stomach down to your lower abdomen, a low hum escaping his lips as he plunges his fingers into your hole. A sharp gasp escapes your lips as he begins to curl his fingers inside you, pressing against your g-spot and stretching you again. As moments pass, he withdraws his fingers, your slick coating them entirely.

“I think you’re more than ready.”

“Let’s get you on top, yeah?” he says lifting your form to straddle his hard cock.

He reveled in the sight of you nestled against his towering frame, a delicate contrast to his strong physique. Each ragged gasp you drew in, every flush on your face, and the smudged remnants of makeup only served to enhance your allure in his eyes.

“C’mon, take me in.” he says, kissing your cheek. “Just hold onto me”

Your response was a subtle bite to your lower lip, a silent surrender as you obediently placed your trembling hand on his firm neck, burying your heated countenance in the sanctuary of his shoulder.

“Hm...”

He hoists you up slightly, his firm hand wrapped around his cock, guiding it towards the heat between your thighs. The tip of his arousal brushes against your clit, eliciting a fervent sigh as you inadvertently dig your nails into his muscular back.

“Ready?”

A soft whimper escapes your parted lips as he slowly eases into you, the initial entrance is a searing burn, it burns deliciously as he splits you open.

You sunk your teeth into his shoulder, the searing sensation reverberating through you as his cock pressed against your cervix with a tantalizing ache. “Relax, let me in.” his whispered command brushed against your nape, his lips trailing kisses as his fingers drew deliberate circles upon your quivering skin.

“It’s... it's too much,” you gasped, the overwhelming fullness causing you to scrabble at his back, your nails digging into flesh as you felt the sting of tears welling in your eyes.

“T-too much, ‘Toru, please,” You writhe

“C’mon, You can handle it,” He remained motionless, allowing you the space to acclimate to the invasion, his warm breath ghosting over your ear as he urged you to yield.

“Relax, pretty, let me in.” 

Your head swims with a dizzying blend of pleasure as you feel him deep inside you, his hand venturing downward to circle and massage your clit. Gradually, you begin to acclimate And he exhales in pleasure  as he revels in the tight clench of your walls around him, the exquisite sensation coiling through him.

 “Do you feel that?”

“You’re taking it so well,” he groans.

“It fits so perfectly well isn’t it? It’s like you were made for me.” he whispered.

“Alrighty, time to move okay ? Put your back into it.” he gripped your hips firmly, he guides your body to ebb and flow along his dick. 

“Up, down.”

You couldn’t help but let out a loud moan as you felt the heat of his rigid cock gliding inside of you . His hips bucked, setting a quickened pace that had your breath hitching in pure ecstasy. Your eyes fluttered shut as each powerful thrust hit that sweet spot deep inside you, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through every fiber of your being.

“‘Toru, ‘Toru” You whined his name.

 “Pl-please," you gasped, your voice laced with need, as you instinctively dug your nails into his muscular back, raking them down with a delicious sting.

“I need… I need you to… kiss me,” you managed to murmur. 

“You want me in your mouth too, hm?” He teased before pressing his lips against yours, your teeths clashing together.

“Fuckk, that’s it...”

His soft expletive escaped his lips as he reluctantly withdrew from the intoxicating embrace of your mouth. His hands slid down the curves of your waist, mesmerized by the sight of his cock moving rhythmically within you.

“Your lips taste like ambrosia,”  he murmured, his words accompanied by the clenching of your inner muscles around him.

Fuck, he was drunk in your sounds, drunk in the way you feel, you were just so heavenly.

“C’mon, cum. I know you want to.” he coaxed, a low moan escaping him as he felt your body shudder in ecstasy, tightening around him as you cum hard.

The sensation of your climax sent a jolt of pleasure through him, his own release building rapidly. His abdominal muscles clenched as he inhaled sharply, the intensity of the moment overwhelming him.

“Fuck.. can I... inside?”  he asked in a whimpery voice, seeking your permission in a breathless whisper. You, lost in a haze of pleasure, simply nodded in acquiescence. With a guttural groan, he emptied himself into you.

Even as he already released, his pace did not falter, fucking you as if you’re his little human fleshlight. His grip on your waist tightened as he deftly shifted your positions, swiftly flipping you over so that you were beneath him.

“Let’s go for another.”

━━𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋

Your respiration came in uneven gasps as your tongue lolled delicately from your mouth. Your visage was flushed a deep scarlet and a sheen of perspiration coated your form. Your gaze, though half-lidded with lust, remained trained attentively upon him. Situated backwards upon his lap, your legs were parted widely as he nestled his face against your scapular region. Your hands clung desperately to his  biceps.

One of his hands rested upon the slender column of your throat, while the other rests on your chest, playing with your nipples. His cock thrusts rhythmically into your inner sanctum the tip of his dick kissing your pretty little cervix, coaxing ever more ardent melodies of euphoria from your lips.

His hand slid down your body, a subtle pressure teasing the soft curve of your abdomen as he pressed against the small bulge on her abdomen.

“Haah... Fuck.. you feel me in there pretty? M’ so deep in you.”

He let out a low moan, his grip tightening around your hip as he intensified his rhythm.  

Satoru’s respiration was labored, eyelids weighed down as his lips caressed your shoulders delicately. Crimson marks peppered your skin where his mouth had wandered voraciously. Your back met his chest in a slow slide,  your skin kissing his.

The sound of heavy breathing, moans, and skin slapping against each other vibrated through the room.

Your thighs ached dully and muscles sore from prior exultations.

“mnhh.. ‘Toruu, please,” You mewled, squirming.

“M’ tired already, Please... S’ too much.”

You two have been going on it for some quite time now, how many times did he made you cum again? Was it six times? You can distinctly recall experiencing orgasm twice from his tongue, once from his fingers, and three times from his cock. The sensation of being stretched caused considerable discomfort, even though he took the time to prepare you, it still stung.

“Mnh.. my poor angel is tired, huh?” satoru uttered in a mellifluous tone, tracing the swirling contours of your auricle with the tip of his tongue before affixing an ardent kiss on the pulsing carotid beneath. 

“Don’t worry.” Satoru says.

“I’ll take care of you after this... So, just be a good girl and take it all, okay?”

Satoru had already become enraptured in the way you tasted and sounded, drunk on the melodic chorus of gasps and moans that spilled wantonly from you. Though sobriety had returned to claim his clarity of mind once more, for you intoxication still lingered and he knew it.

He wanted to stop, but how could he? You were squeezin’ and taking him so good and deep, and he just needed this release after the suguru incident after all.

He was having too much fun in splitting you in half after all.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

AUTHORS NOTE:

I CAN'T BELIEVE I WROTE THIS SJKSKSJS, fun fact; i’m an asexual virgin. It's so funny writing this HAHHAHAHA, i literally CACKLED when i was writing “pussy, cunt, cock,” AHHSHSHAH MY IMMATURITY COULD NEVER😭 I WOULD KMS IF I EVER ADDED BALLS.💀

[illyrian-dreamer]

Our girl – Part 3

Summary: Deeming you unfit for a mission, the Inner Circle have betrayed your trust and shattered your life’s mission to avenge you sister. And the two males you love most were at the centre of it all.

Word count: 6.5k

Warnings: Grief/depression

The Spring Court lake had weathered the same depletion as the rest of the state. Empty wooden cabins sat abandoned and unused, the sand had turned grey and the flourishing fruit trees that once aligned it hacked down to stumps. Hybern had drained Spring Court of so much of its natural resource and beauty. 

“It’s a disturbing sight, isn’t it?” your uncle muttered, placing two steaming mugs of tea at the table beside you, joining you on the porch. His bark-like skin had weathered and aged since the last time you had seen him, untold sorrows hiding in his deep within the ripples. What atrocities had he witnessed during the war? And what bargains had he had to make to keep his own cabin standing amongst a sea of homes destroyed?

“I’m so sorry Finbark. I should have returned to help you sooner,” you said, your heart clenching as the males eyes warmed with a pain smile. 

“I did not write for a reason. I would never want to drag you into this mess,” he said, waving his hand to the desolate land around him. “Not when you were so aligned with an enemy court.”

You raised the mug to your lips, casting your eyes to the lake before blowing on the hot liquid. He was right, you had no business entering Spring Court at a time like that, never mind that you were completely preoccupied with serving your duties alongside Cassian and Azriel. Gods, your heart ached more than it should just at the thought of them.

You cleared your throat quietly, trying not to dwell. “It sparkles the same,” you spoke distantly, distracting yourself. “The lake, I mean. It still sparkles in the way I remember.”

Finbark chuckled, his eyes warming again. “You and Meryl spent so much time in that lake, I remember your parents debating on how they would have to bribe the two of you out of it.”

You forced a smile back, clenching your mug a little tighter. 

“It was the same for my cousin’s nephews, they adored playing in the water, they would beg their Aunt to come stay for weeks on end.”

“Whatever happened to them?” you asked, unsure if you could handle the truth. 

“Of Alis and the boys?” He paused then, clearing his throat. “They fled to Summer, with some luck and no deniable assistance from your High Lady.”

You had to physically swallow at Feyre’s mention, but the relief was greater to know Finbark’s family was safe. “Well, she’s no longer my High Lady,” you corrected. 

“I’m sorry, I don't mean to upset you.”

“Not at all Fin,” you smiled softly before drawing a deep breath. “I know she is a generous and caring ruler, and I’m grateful your family is safe. I only wish I could have done more.”

“I was protected too Y/N. How do you think it is my home is still standing, or that I am here at all? I’m clever, but not that clever,” he winked. “I have no doubt my relation to Alis and your parents kept me well and safe during the war. No wagons found the trail to my home, no one knocked on my door demanding answers or resources, or to pick up a weapon and fight. It was if I didn't exist at all.”

It clicked then – of course. Alis had been Feyre’s maid at the Spring Manor. Feyre had spoken of her so fondly. And you had been so worried for Finbark’s safety, confiding in your High Lady who had merely comforted you at the time, reassuring you that he would be safe. She and Rhys never mentioned their connection, or the magic they spent to keep Finbark hidden. Your heart ached at the reminder of their generosity. 

“Y/N?” your uncle waved a rippled hand in front of your face, and you blinked before straightening, drawn back from your thoughts. 

Fin sighed with a knowing look. “You don't need to feel guilty about the magic that kept me safe, sweetheart. They wronged you in a very serious way.” 

Your eyebrows clenched as you blinked back the sting of tears. “But they are good people Fin, the lot of them.”

Finbark’s hand rested atop of your forearm, his face soft with understanding. “It changes very little, young spark. The damage is all the same.” Your uncle once again waved his hand out to the barren land around you.

You stood now, setting your tea down – you needed to get out of your head. “I will make one more trip to town tonight, there are some homes still without firewood.”

“At this time? You’ve been working since dawn Y/N, why not rest? It’s not as cold tonight.”

But you were already reaching for your axe. The more you moved, the less you would have to think. “It’ll be alright uncle, I’ll return before midnight.”

He didn't say anything further as you sheathed the weapon to your back, heading up the trail to town where the sun had already began to set. 

————

It had been five months since you had found home in Spring Court. 

At first, you found work serving your uncle’s town. Much of the remaining fae had rural upbringing, with little skill to sustain themselves after their farms, once lush with crops and animals, were destroyed. 

Word spread quick of help from an outside court, and when you were sure the locals could stand on their own two feet, you began to travel, finding town after town with more fae in need. So began your course, trailing further away from your uncle’s cabin at the border and nearing the centre of the court.

Magic found you easier here too. Whether it was the exhaustion from a hard days worth of work, or that you rarely had a moment to think about yourself, you didn't know.

Soon enough, you learned to summon your sparks, lighting fires in homes in an instant or heating food and teas for the ill. It wasn’t much, but you had never yielded so much control, and didn't remember a day when you hadn't feared your abilities since Meryl’s death. Finbark was particularly delighted when you showed him your new trick, clapping with a cheer, reminding you of why he dubbed you young spark.

So much of Spring Court reminded you of your sister, and while it had never been your home, memories of pleasant holidays surrounded by loved ones seemed to wait at every garden, field or bubbling brook you encountered. You welcomed those memories, letting grief wash over you when it came, using it to fuel your determination to keep on working. Grief was a weapon of kinds, and you were only now learning to yield it. You would build a better world for those who were left behind, just like you. 

And over the course of those months, the land around you slowly came to life. Not from your work alone, but as the fae of Spring Court worked together to heal and rebuild, the land began to give back. The grass was greener and more lush now, flowers blossomed instead of dying at the bud, and trees bristled as gentle breezes passed through their luscious leaves. The land wasn’t yet singing, but it began to hum – it was healing, and so were you. And you were sure somewhere out in these lands, so was its High Lord. 

————

“Damn it Rhys! Let us go!” Cassian slammed his fists on the table, silver cutlery and porcelain plates rattling at the force. 

Rhys’s gaze was cold as he glared back at the General. “No,” was all he answered. 

Feyre fidgeted with her hands in her lap, her dinner now cold where her knife and fork set at her plate minutes ago when tension began to brew. She knew there would be another fight tonight – neither Cassian or Azriel had taken the order to begin training the new recruits at the House of Wind well. It reminded them too much of Y/N, and they had spent five months furious with both her and Rhys for placing them on court arrest, stopping them from scouting Prythian to find you.

“Feyre, please,” Cassian begged, his brow clenched in anguish. 

She swallowed, her heart pulling at his pain. “You know we can't Cass, Rhys gave her his word.” The black ink-like marking on her forearm itched at the mention, the symbol of a cross inside a triangle – a treasure and its whereabouts locked in secret. The mark had appeared the same moment Rhys had promised to not trail your location, an identical mark etched to his forearm too.

As part of that promise, the High Lord and Lady had ordered Cassian and Azriel against anything they could do to find you – there was to be no tracking your scent, no using intel from other courts, and no leaving the Night Court to investigate.

Cassian roared in frustration, throwing his head in his hands, gripping at the roots of his hair. “We only want to know she’s safe. If you care for us at all–"

“Enough Cassian!” Rhys bellowed, night filling every void of the room. Everyone froze. 

Rhys pinched his nose, the clouds of his magic lower to a thick fog that covered the floor. “You do not question our care for anyone in this family.”

Azriel spoke then, stiff and stoic from his seat. “It is worth the breach of the bargain you made. We will burden the consequence.”

“It’s not just for the consequence, Azriel,” Feyre answered, meeting the Shadowsinger’s hardened stare. “This was Y/N’s choice. How do you think she will feel knowing we have breached her trust again?”

“I will deal with that after I know she is safe.”

Rhys ran a hand over his face before rubbing at his temples. “As I have said countless times, you will not be granted permission to track her.” Rhys’s power tightened then, yanking on a leash he had kept around the General and Shadowsinger’s necks for months.

“How can you do this to us?” Azriel seethed, knuckles white from where the gripped the table. 

“I don't know Azriel. Perhaps the same way I kept Y/N grounded when you ordered her unfit to kill Alvar.”

Azriel stood then, his seat thrown back. “How dare you,” he spat, shadows racing towards the High Lord.

Rhys stood too, night magic clashing with shadows, a fight for dominance. “Calm yourself,” Rhys growled, staring the Shadowsinger down.

Mor sighed, swirling the wine in her glass from where she sat, fingers strumming the table impatiently. “Can we not go a single dinner without it turning to a fight?” she said flatly, before drawing a long sip.

Azriel’s teeth drew back to a snarl as he whipped his head to her. “Since when did you become so heartless?”

Mor stood, levelling her brown eyes at the Shadowsinger. “Don’t be a fool, I care for Y/N just as much as you. But I trust in my High Lord and Lady to dow that is right. When was the last time you exercised that same loyalty you swore to this court?” Mor paused before speaking again. “You’ve become undone, the both of you. And you will unravel this family if you continue down this path.” 

Feyre threw Mor a grateful look.

Shadows continued to bulk at Azriel’s frame. “She is our love, Mor. Are we not worthy of her whereabouts?”

“No,” Mor said, her voice flat and cold. “You are not. That is your consequence for holding her too tight.”

Azriel’s nostrils flared, his eyes widening as he recoiled ever so slightly. Cassian could not raise his head from where it still hung in his hands, but for a moment he stopped breathing.

Mor softened then, seeing how deep her words had cut. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice still stern. “But it’s true. And I’m tired of having our family torn apart because of a decision that was her right to make. We have to rebuild what is here, what we have left. Otherwise our family will be ruined, and with it our court.”

Cassian took deep, shaky breaths, trying to hold the anguished cry that begged to be released. He had endured months of restlessness heartbreak, and there was no sign of it easing. It was torture.

Azriel looked back at his brother, knowing that pain, feeling it writhe within himself. Wordlessly, he walked to Cassian, clasping a firm hand on his shoulder and winnowing them from the room.

————

It was early one morning after you had set off from your uncle’s cabin, days worth of resources and tools hung from the back of your horse.

The horse was noble, a once well-kept steed that had been abandoned since the war. He had found you in a field, bucking and neighing as you approached. But with a gentle hand to his nose and some soothing commands, he had yielded, reminded of his connection to fae. 

Every great steed deserved a name, and it found you instantly – Podie. It was Nyx’s way of saying “pony”, his chubby finger pointed at the array of horses in the stables when you had taken him with your family, the lot of you chuckling at his adorable attempt. Your heart ached as you thought of the child, of how much he must have grown since you had left the Night Court. So you named your horse in his honour, and relished the comfort it was to feel feel that little bit closer to him.

Finbark had waved you off as the sun was rising, and it was only a few hours later when had you entered the trail you had become so familiar with, headed for the next town on your map. The quiet was tranquil in Spring Court, but in that moment even the birds stopped singing, and an eerie sensation swept you over you, the hairs on your neck standing. Podie’s nostrils flared as harsh breaths blew from his snout, his ears twitching nervously.

Something, or someone, was watching you.

You immediately dismounted, not wanting to zap or upset Podie as began power tickling at your skin. 

“Who’s there?” you spoke, your heart fastening at the rustle from behind the trees. 

For a moment, you thought they had found you, and your heart thundered as you prepared to confront Cassian and Azriel. Would they try to apologise again? Were they here to convince you to return to the Night Court? Perhaps they would go as far to drag you back, kicking and screaming?

Bile rose in your throat as you searched for the peaks of wings or siphons glowing amongst the greenery that rustled. Instead, antlers poked through before revealing narrowed green eyes. Heavy paws padded against the ground as a half-elk, half-lion emerged, prowling towards you.

You startled, fumbling back a few steps, too shocked to find your words. The beast approach, sniffing as sentient eyes scanned you with a knowing look. And as you stared back, you realised quickly who the creature before you was.

Before you could demand it, Tamlin morphed to his fae form, blond hair cropped to his strong shoulders, sharp green eyes fixed on you as he stared you down with a tight jaw. 

There was no question of his beauty – Tamlin was incredibly handsome, even with his face fixed with such a stern and threatening stare. He was not cloaked in green as Feyre had often described him, instead he wore brown working pants and a black shirt that were rolled at the sleeves revealing strong, veiny forearms. He was dressed no better than the working class of his court.

“High Lord,” you greeted as you bowed your head, lowering slightly at one knee. This was his court at the end of the day, no matter what he had done to ruin it. 

He watched you intently, unspeaking and his face softened ever so slightly, his jaw unclenching only a little. 

“Can I help you with something?”

“I’ve come to meet the Night Court emissary who has been assisting in the refuge of my land.” His voice was deep, commanding even after everything he had lost.

“I assure you, I am no longer affiliated with the Night Court. There is no treason to be found here.”

“I know.” He said with a straight face. “I’ve been tracking your work for months.”

You gulped at that. You had hoped to blend in, an anonymous helper with no past and no future.

“Did you think you could enter my court unnoticed?” he questioned, and sharp brown quirking. 

You found your eyes narrowing. “From what I was told, your borders had fallen, and your lands used as a place for sanction after the war. I did not think announcing my arrival was necessary, and you were certainly in no position to refuse my aid.”

Tamlin was unmoved at your tone. Instead he ran that pointed green stare down your body and back up again, flicking them to Podie who stood to the side, grazing on some grass, before settling them back on you. “Why?” he asked. 

“Pardon?”

“Why have you come to aid my court?”

“I care to help those in need.”

“There are plenty across Prythian in need.” Tamlin was scowling now.

There was a beat of silence between you, only the sound of the heavy breaths that left Podie’s nostrils to fill it. 

“What did they do to you?” Tamlin asked. There was no softness in his question.

Now it was your turn to scowl. “I sought your court, High Lord, because I have an uncle who resides by the lake in the south. I knew there was work to be done here, and I had a home at his cabin.”

If your answer satiated Tamlin, he did not let it show, his green eyes continuing to pierce through you. It was a conscious effort not to let your power overcome you in the grasp of his stare. 

“Come to my Manor.”

You choked. “Pardon me?”

The High Lord shuffled then, his first natural movement, and you could have sworn a slight blush tinged his cheeks. “My apologies, I’ve spent so much time in my beast form, it’s easy to forget my manners. Please, join me for a meal at my Manor. It’s the least I can do, to thank you for your contributions.”

Your stare on Tamlin harshened. “I did not do it for you.”

Tamlin merely shrugged. “I’m aware. Regardless, I am grateful.”

You had only heard of Tamlin’s Manor through Feyre’s stories, how he had warded the home, trapping her within, hurting her with that uncontrollable rage of his. You had little interest in seeing the place where this occured, a small tether of loyalty to Feyre ignited at the thought.

You may as well have said it out loud, as Tamlin tracked the movements in your eyes before bowing his head. 

“The choice is yours, of course.”

You swallowed, observing the male before you. A High Lord would never bow their head for such a thing. 

That smallest of behaviours begged so many questions. Was he sorry? Was he ashamed? Was it possible Tamlin had learnt from his mistakes, and had grown to be a better High Lord? 

He reminded you so much of the males you once loved – a good heart with mislead direction. If he had shed of his possessive and controlling nature – you craved to see it, you needed to know it possible, even if it was in someone else. 

So you realised there was a part of you that wanted to go to the Manor and join Tamlin for an evening, to answer that question alone. You could attend for one meal, just to plug the hole in your heart for a night.

“Alright. I’ll visit your manor,” you said impartially.

Tamlin nodded once. “Is there a time that suits you best?”

You looked back at Podie, waving an arm to the gear and resources strapped to his saddle. “I will spend three days in Rellford to assist with building a new market. With another afternoon of travel I can make it to your Manor in four days time.”

Talmlin nodded again, smiling softly now, the pull of his mouth catching your breath as his handsomeness was further revealed. “I look forward to it, Y/N L/N.” After a low bow, Tamlin was once again a beast, treading away and leaving you to continue your journey.  

————

You stood awkwardly at the door to the Tamlin’s Manor, your hand hung in the air, unable to make the first knock. 

The gate had willed itself open, and you were surprised to see the exterior well kept, almost immaculate. Rhys had described it differently from his last visit, ivy overgrown and no maids or servicemen to be seen. But a stable boy had helped you dismount on arrival, guiding Podie by his reins with a polite bow. 

You smoothed out the skirts of your dress, self conscious of the scent of the horse you undoubtedly carried. You wore a humble frock, feminine and loose, one that allowed for a few hours of riding. The countless bold and revealing gowns you had once loved were left behind at the Night Court, they had no place in the new life you were building. With a final shake of your head, you willed yourself to knock on the large arched doors. 

But before your fist made contact, the doors swung open, revealing a maid. 

“Hello,” she said sweetly.

“H-hi.”

“Come inside.”

And so you did, taking in the impressive home. Natural light poured in from all around, floor length windows cast open as sheers danced gently as the breeze passed through. Tasteful vases of Spring’s finest flowers decorated the space, with countless rooms joining the space and a grand staircase that led to reveal even more of the manor. 

The maid lead you to a sitting room, the space just as light an airy, with no door, just an open archway. This was not what you had imagined at all.

“The High Lord is expecting you, but he apologises as he has a meeting that has run over. He won't be too long, but would like to convey his apologies,” she said with pep. “You can wait here, M’Lady. Would you care for something to drink?”

You silently took a seat at the lounge she had waved at, looking behind at the floor to ceiling bookshelves that aligned the room. It was a tasteful room, and you thought you could spend all day he curled up with a good book. 

“No, no thank you,” you eventually said, slow to respond in your awe of the house. 

With a bouncy courtesy, the maid left you to be. 

Standing immediately, you moved to inspect the books, fingering their spines and muttering their titles aloud. 

“Flora and Fauna of the Spring Season. How to Care for Roses and Thorns Alike.”

Your ears pricked as two sets of footsteps making their way down the staircase, and deep voices spoke in discussion. 

“I would be grateful for the resources Tamlin. And it’s clear you are mending your court. I would be happy to align with you once again.” 

You knew that voice – Tarquin.

“I’m glad, and yes, we are making progress. Though it would be insincere of me to accept any credit. I thank the people of my court, and I have had aid from others too.”

The males passed the open archway to the reading room, Tarquin stopping in his tracks. 

“Y/N?”

You froze, book still in hand. “Greetings, Tarquin,” you said thickly, barely able to swallow. 

Tarquin cast his magnificent blue eyes to Tamlin for just a moment, and you were sure if you had blinked you would have missed it. You glanced at Tamlin too, who showed no sign of discomfort. 

Tarquin was quick to recover from his shock, making his way over to greet you, embracing you with open arms and a quick kiss to each of your cheeks.

“I’m sorry to have heard of your departure from the Nigh Court,” he said, blue eyes fixed on you with a warm, sorry smile. 

You smiled back softly, rubbing his arms where they held your shoulders. “That is kind, Tarquin. I am sorry too.” You fought the urge to embrace him again – it was so nice to see a friend. 

Tamlin waited by the archway, his hands behind his back as he watched your interaction with passive curiosity. 

“And how did you find yourself in Spring?” Tarquin asked. 

You shrugged. “I have an uncle here, and I wanted to work to help repair that lost in the war.”

Tarquin nodded. “Yes, Tamlin was telling that he was quite impressed with you. And I must say, it’s encouraging to see how much progress has been made.”

You flicked your eyes to Tamlin who remained unmoved. He had credited you to another High Lord? You blushed lightly, shifting uncomfortably on your feet.

“And what of Varian and Cresseida? Are they well?” you skilfully diverted the conversation.

Tarquin grinned. “Varian is well, and Cresseida is engaged.”

“Engaged!” you burst, a smile so wide on your face as you thought of her. She was always a romantic. 

“Yes, she’s quite excited, as is the rest of the family. You will keep your eye out for an invitation to the wedding, yes?”

You blushed again – you were unsure how the news would be received by the other High Lords of your leaving, it was nice to know you were still considered you a friend at Summer. “Of course, Tarquin. I would be honoured to celebrate with you all.”

Tarquin smiled at that, before turning back to Tamlin. “What a jewel you have here in your court Tamlin. You won't take her for granted I hope.” You could sense the warning laced in his tone. 

Tamlin lowered his eyes slightly, a small gesture, but in the language of High Lords it spoke volumes. Understanding, submission, guilt even. “I wouldn’t dare of it,” he spoke, hands still clasped behind his back.

Tarquin seemed reassured at that. “I must journey back. A delight to see you Y/N, do take care, and come visit whenever you find suitable.”

You agreed to that, watching Tarquin shake Tamlins hand before leaving the Manor. 

“I apologise for making you wait,” Tamlin said with a soft smile. He seemed stiff still, and you wondered if he nervous to host you.

You eyed the High Lord up and down. “Not at all. I’m just… a little surprised to have our meetings overlap.”

Tamlin nodded with understanding. “I have nothing to hide Y/N. It is a lesson I should have learned long ago.”

You nodded at that, looping your arm through Tamlin’s outstretched one as he lead you through to on a tour of the Manor. 

————

The meal with Tamlin was far more enjoyable that you had thought it would be, food and company alike. He did not lead you to a dining room, instead, a small table was set in the balcony overlooking the estate, the warm spring breeze gentle as the sun set over the groomed gardens, rows of trees and flowering bushes tinged with orange from the sunset.

The conversation was awkward at first, Tamlin was nervous, and it didn't help that you headed every comment with caution. But after a few sips of wine, and a few jokes exchanged, it seemed you and the High Lord had much in common. 

You felt yourself relaxing, joking and laughing with ease. It was nice to chat and enjoy the company of another, something you hadn’t done since Azriel killed Alvar. You hadn't realised that in throwing yourself in work, you had deprived yourself from any true fun. Perhaps Tamlin had seen that, perhaps that’s why he invited you here.

He hadn't asked or pried of your past, only talking of your work with immense gratitude. And when you told him of your childhood memories in his court, Tamlin beamed with pride, his face fixed with a smile and his posture a little more straight. That of course, lead to the conversation of Meryl. 

“And what of your sister?” Tamlin asked. “Where does she reside now?”

“Ah,” you said, before drawing a long sip of wine, taking a moment before you could will yourself to respond. “Unfortunately Meryl was murdered by one of Hybern’s own spies.”

Pain sliced across Tamlin’s face, his green eyes panicked before he bowed his head in shame. “Gods, Y/N. I am so sorry.” Blond strands fell in front of his face, his strong hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles turned white. 

“Tamlin, it’s alright. It was many years ago, well before the war.” 

He looked at you then, his face softening. He knew what you were saying – it was before he allied himself with Hybern. He was not to blame.

“I was a fool to have ever opened my borders to him,” Tamlin said thickly, casting his eyes down. 

“I could not agree more,” you replied, before offering him a tight smile. You were certain he regretted many of his choices, but it was reassuring to hear.

“Was your sister’s death how you found yourself as a Night Court emissary?”

You nodded. “That’s right. I was motivated to protect others, and largely driven to avenge Meryl.” Speaking of your past after all that had happened, it seemed to foreign to you now. You no longer knew the girl you were when you had found a home in Velaris.

“It would seem that is still very true,” Tamlin complimented. 

“In some ways, yes,” you agreed, unsure if he caught the blush on your cheeks. “But also untrue in others.”

Tamlin waited patiently, but didn't push. The choice was yours to continue. 

So you told him of your time at the Night Court, of the decade you had spent training with Cassian and Azriel. You spoke of the extent of your training, and how after a few years friendship had turned to love, and the family had welcomed you with open arms. 

Dancing around the details of the Night Court, you were careful not to expose Velaris or other sensitive information – you were not here to damn the court, you were only telling your story.

And as you spoke, Tamlin listened intently without casting judgement, just patiently absorbing your story, nodding where he understood and asking questions where he didn’t. He never pried, nor did he ask for more detail of the Night Court, or of Feyre and Rhys. 

Finally, you explained what lead to you leaving your old life behind, how you were betrayed by your loves and wider family, and how your one true shot to avenge your sister was stolen from you.

As you finished, you drew a big breath, and an even bigger sip of wine. You slouched further into your seat, relaxing as you felt free from the weight of bottling your truth for so long.

Tamlin watched you for a moment, before drawing a long breath. “Would you like to know what I think?”

You raised your brows, toying with your glass of wine. “Do tell.”

“I feel you were treated with an utter lack of empathy, and it was cruel to not at least tell you of the mission. I’m sorry that you were hurt in such a way. They are fools to have mistreated you so greatly, and I know this because… not only am I fully capable of such behaviour, but it is so similar to how I had treated Feyre.”

Your eyes went wide at his confession, your brows clenching at the way it made your heart ache.

“I know what it is to love another so fiercely, you stop seeing them as someone, and start seeing them as something. It was a lesson I learned only when I lost everything – my love, my council, my entire damn court. I was vengeful, jealous, and I would have torn the world in half to claim what I thought belonged to me. But I had no one to blame but myself, and I’ve learnt nothing is mine to ever own or control, no matter how much that scares me. In all truths Y/N, I am sickened that so many were hurt and lost for me to learn that lesson, and I’m so sorry that you were hurt for Azriel and Cassian to learn theirs.”

You blinked at Tamlin, swallowing your shock. “That is… a very honest confession.”

Tamlin gave you a tight smile before shrugging. “Honesty is all I have.”

You returned his smile, extended a hand to rest on his forearm. “If you ask me, honesty and trust are the only true currency of this life.”

Tamlin raised his brows then, whether he was shocked by your words or by your touch you couldn't tell. His green eyes met yours, sincerity swarming as he held you in a soft gaze. “Fae like you have known that all along though. And it is males like me who hurt those infinitely wiser, like you.”

You chuckled then. “I’m not perfect Tamlin, far from it. I think all we can do is try to be better, and work to ensure we don't hurt those that we love through our imperfections.”

Tamlin’s eyes warmed. “I think you’re right,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. 

And maybe it was the wine, or the way your heart swelled at the honestly and sincerity of his confession, but all of the fibres of your being begged you to lean a little closer, to bask in his warmth and comfort, and even press your lips to his. 

With a flick of his eyes to your lips, you knew Tamlin felt the same draw to you. He placed a large hand over your own that rested on his forearm. “Y/N, you must know I didn't invite you here to… disrupt, or interfere with–"

“I know,” you interrupted him, smiling softly.

Tamlin paused, eyes darting between yours. “Your company has been a delightful surprise. But I would hate for you to regret–"

“My life in the Night Court is behind me Tamlin. I have built a life of my own, and this is the path I choose.”

Tamlin moved then, a large hand coming to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek and he gave you a pained look, as if physically trying to restrain himself. “I don't mean to lecture the more wise,” he said softly. “But if you feel that I can change or grow or learn from my mistakes, don’t you believe Azriel and Cassian can too?”

Your eyes fluttered close, your brow pulling at the weight of his question. “I suppose.” 

“And if they have changed, or at least try to, do you think that you might want to forgive them?”

You opened your eyes, holding Tamlin’s gaze with a serious expression. “Forgiveness is one thing. But I will never return to the life I had with them Tamlin, not like that. Too much has happened.” 

“Hmm,” Tamlin hummed thoughtfully. He waited a moment, green eyes drinking in your face, scanning your features delicately as you blushed, closing your eyes again to bare the intensity.

When Tamlin spoke again, his tone was a lot more assured. “I can see you have are still in the thick of processing what has happened, Y/N. And for that reason alone, it would be improper to kiss you right now, despite how much I want to.”

You were frowning as you opened your eyes, finding a sorry smile planted on Tamlin’s face. 

“You’re a cruel High Lord,” you joked flatly, returning the pained smile and holding the hand he kept to your face. 

“I’ll work on that,” he chuckled, pulling both your hands in his before kissing them. 

“Come,” he said, standing from his chair and offering you his hand. “I’m yet to show you the gardens.”

————

“Coming!” Amrin barked at the third rapping on her door, the knocks growing more impatient. Slinking into a silver silk robe, she opened the door to reveal Cassian and Azriel, their cheeks more hollow and bags even darker than the last time she had seen them a few weeks ago. 

“Gods, you both look awful,” she said plainly before walking further into her apartment, not checking to see if they followed. 

“Where the hell have you been?” Azriel grumbled. 

“Working from home, if you will.”

“Why?” Cassian asked defensively. 

“You know the answer, brutes. All of that fighting and tension, it gives me a headache.”

Azriel scowled, crossing his arms across his chest, shadows stretching across Amren’s apartment with familiarity. 

“You’re sensitive at the best of times,” Cassian bit back.

“Why are you here?” Amren spoke plainly, sounding bored by their presence. 

Cassian approached Amren while Azriel lingered back. “Help us,” Cassian said. 

Amren scoffed. “You know I can’t, boy.”

Cassian’s brows clenched before he moved to his knees, squatting in front of Amren as she lounged in a chair. “Please, Amren, do you have anything? Information from an outside court, or a lead on her whereabouts?”

Amren levelled her silver eyes with his brown ones. “Why do you torture yourself with such questions? Y/N is quite capable of taking care of herself, you know.”

“C’mon Cass, let’s just go,” Azriel said tightly from behind. From the tension in the room, it was hard to remember they were serving the same throne.

“You want my advice? The both of you need to be patient. If it takes her an eternity to forgive you, then so be it. There is nothing you can do to force that.”

“We can't just switch it off Amren, it doesn't work like that.”

“The Illyrian possessiveness, or the hopelessly in love part?” Amren mocked. “Y/N is mending herself, and I applaud that. I suggest you take a page from her book and start to do the same.”

Azriel had already stalked for the door when Amren started to mock, but she called him a few paces shy. “Whatever you took, I suggest you leave it behind,” she said, her tone almost playful. 

Azriel froze, before letting go of a gold piece of card, the paper fluttering to the floor as he and Cassian stalked out, slamming the door behind them. 

“What was that?” Cassian asked with a whisper. 

Azriel hushed him, nodding as he walked forward, waiting until they had made it a few streets from Amren’s home. 

“A wedding invitation. For Creseida.”

Cassian’s eyes light up. “Do you think–?”

“Perhaps, but I don't think we’d be welcomed company if Y/N does attend. Rhys and Feyre will surely keep us here.”

“So we keep our walls up. We won’t disclose to know of the wedding, and that way the bargain will never be broken.”

Azriel nodded. “The only risk is Amren, should she mention that I saw the invitation.”

Cassian sighed, running his hand through his long hair. “I sure as hell hope she can keep her mouth shut.”

--------

Part 4>>>>

AN: Omgosh, you guys have been so so patient with this part, thank you from the bottom of my heart. I sincerely hope you liked it, it was so much fun to introduce Tamlin and explore the way he might be healing after the war. Not to mention writing a few wins for our reader?? She deserves it.

Also how the Inner Curcle is just falling to shit without her 💅🏼 I so look forward to exploring the TEA at this wedding.... I always want to know what you guys think, so feel free to drop a comment, and if you'd like to join my general tag list, or just for Our Girl, drop a comment too :) Thank you always for your support <3

[waokevale]

The Overlapped AU [Aka Superhumans disguisted as Dinner Theater workers]

The Owners

The Managers (Engineer & the HR person)

The Waiters

The Security

The Performers (Wes is mostly on cleaning duty though)

The Kitchen staff (the others are usually tasked to help, though very few are actually trusted at all times to be there)

The Bartender and the Host

The Dishwashers

The Clerk & The Supplier

So this AU came to me upon a dream, and I just had to make it real...

The synopsis below:

The event of April 17th 1906 does happen, however instead of Charlie and Maxwell being kidnapped into the Constant, the Constant overlaps with the real world and spreads itself onto Earth.

Charlie and Maxwell in the process become corrupted and have to hide away temporarily. Both of them soon began to hear strange voices, source of which neither is quite sure, telling them, compelling them to hide the corruption's effect from the publicity, for the time being.

They come to a mutual realization they have to fix this mess somehow and hunt down any and all corrupted by the tome, by any means necessary.

(Maxwell still has codex umbra, but it is sealed shut for the time being until he's sure it won't spread more if Their influence. )

But the corruption didn't just appear out of nowhere, it's been leaking way long before Maxwell found the Codex, if to a less prominent extent.

Thus, in few years passing, they form a Dinner Theater, a rather inconspicuous establishment from the first glance. Very quickly they began "hiring" employees, which in reality means tracking down and blackmailing those who have been corrupted but not fully lost themselves to its effects, in order to hunt those who had.

Winona was against the idea at first, as she found out. But seeing the effects of corruption first hand, she quickly had a change of heart and integrated herself into Charlie's new environment.

Eventually they gathered a rather generous amount of people. Once a person's proven to be trustworthy to a point, they're give higher positions in the company.

However those who aren't, are likely to be shunned or "fired" which...you could probably guess what that means.

Many of these people gradually come to terms with the reality of their situation and accept their newfound purpose, being thankful that at least they still have a roof over their head and a warm meal, instead of being viewed as monsters or outcasts to the greater society.

(Wilson though, can't quite accept this notion. He keeps claiming that "this is just a big misunderstanding, I'm just a normal guy!" Yet the truth could be far from it.)

When Maxwell and Charlie hear of the danger looming, they immediately inform their "staff" of the matter. Those who are more experienced in combat come along to face whatever opponent may cross them, while those who aren't, stay behind, to be an additional aid or a medic in case the battle gets too intense.

Whenever any suspicion arises in the town about the shady business going on in that particular building, the two owners alongside their employees practically gaslight anyone and everyone into believing they're but the most regular entertainment center.

The characters who have either willingly or unwillingly lost their humanity, mostly in the physical sense, are given special devices constructed of Thulecite and bits of nightmare fuel (made by Winona, Wicker and the main two), which effectively hide away their true identity, or surpress the effects of their ailment.

There's also a few other people important to this story, especially the One, which even Charlie and Maxwell refer to as "The Boss", though what many most recent hires don't know, is that there's someone who's in a position much higher than the owners themselves, controlling their every move.

Correlating to that, another person, or rather, a set of people per se, working for a much different cause. Though most of them are "people" in only a visual sense of the word.

And while, there might be someone inside the well-known around town diner, who just might be more than what appears on the surface, literally and metaphorically this time.

__________

If you're interested to learn more about this AU, do let me know. If you have any questions, I'm happy to hear and answer them!

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Hot As A Summer’s Eve (Rengoku x Black!Fem!Chubby!Reader 18+ One Shot) [COMMISSION FILL]

Pairing: Rengoku Kyojuro x Black!Fem!Plus-Sized!Reader

Synopsis: In which our favorite sexy, fire-haired himbo Rengoku decides to confess his feelings to you, his favorite Demon Slayer Corp, and show you that he adores your body just for how it was made: by fucking you stupid in the woods at a summer festival.

Warnings: Smutty Smut, 18+ (MINORS DNI), Older!Rengoku x Younger!Reader; Public Sex, Forest Sex, Crush Confession, Foreplay, Breeding Kink, Cumpie, Oral, Masturbation, Breast Worship, Oral (Giving & Receiving), Facefuck, Multiple Positions, Sex Against a Tree, Doggystyle, Almost Caught, Spanking, Mild Choking, MDom!Rengoku, fsub!Reader, Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: A thank you to @eevees-hobbies for trusting me to write this commission & post it publicly! I’m gonna start writing more Demon Slayer shit after this lol. I hope y’all enjoy! ❤️ -Jazz

**********

“Rengoku, I…I didn’t know you felt this way about me.”

You say this while standing in the cool, lush forest yards away from the glowing lights, cheery live music, and chatter of visitors coming from the summer festival that you’ve been looking forward to all week.

The highly-anticipated festival is thrown every year to celebrate the summer’s solstice where businesses set up vendors to make a profit, shaved ice and free sake shots are aplenty, and people wear kimonos and adobes to celebrate in full. Rengoku has been looking forward to it too.

But not for the flavored shaved ice, free sake, games to win goldish, live performances, or fireworks that are done at the end of the festival. He was only looking forward to it for a chance to spend time with you.

You, the beautiful and magnetic demon slayer that has been learning and training with him, the eight other Hashira members, and the other new members of the Demon Slayer Corps. You with your soft, curly black hair, smooth skin that he wishes to touch, bright smile, and luscious, beautiful body.

Truth be told, Rengoku doesn’t give a fuck about the festival. He wasn’t even going to go even though the rest of his group and the newest Demon Slayer Corps members were going. But when he found out you’d be in attendance, he rushed to iron his kimono for the occasion. The moment he saw you in your red kimono with its pink flowers, he knew he had to tell you how he felt finally.

And when he saw you laughing at something Tengen said, the flirty, cocky motherfucker, he definitely knew he had to act fast. He felt bad for having such negative thoughts about his fellow slayer. Tengen was always a great guy and an even greater guy! But there was something about seeing him flash his white smile and flirty eyes at pretty, plump little you while you slurped on your strawberry water ice.

Embarrassingly, Rengoku felt his cock stir beneath his kimono as he watched your lips and tongue stained red. He must’ve looked insane because Tanjiro asked if anything was wrong.

He can’t understand why he feels so deeply for you. He’s never felt this way about any woman, let alone a Demon Slayer Corp! Sure, he’s found women attractive, but the feelings you invoke in him are primal. Sexual. Personal. He finds himself going mad seeing you around other men or when you flash one of those pretty smiles his way.

He can’t quite put his finger on why you affect him the way you do. Maybe it’s the way your hair bounces when you walk or how it smells faintly of mangos whenever you’re near him. Maybe it’s how kind and sweet you are to everyone. Maybe it’s the way you always give your all when it comes to training and you don’t let your size stop you from doing what you want.

True, you are a bigger girl. “Chubby”, he’s heard you call yourself before. You need to wear a larger size for the Corp uniform, and your arms have an adorable jiggle to them, as do your thighs, and you have these chunky legs that he wants to see wrapped around his waist, and you’re just so perfect and soft and small to him.

Though you’d probably disagree with the small part, Rengoku doesn’t care. You’d be small to him no matter what size you are being that he is much bigger than you.

He is crazy over you! During the day, he watches you stretch during training sessions, your athletic sets tight on your plump body, or do your warm-ups, your voluptuous breasts jiggling enticingly in your sports bra. Even when you serve him his meals at supper with a bright smile or give him a “Good morning, Rengoku”, he is ready to jump you.

During the night, he is just as unhinged. He tosses, turns, and sweats in his sheets imagining you in them with him. His big hand fists his hard cock, pumping it vigorously at the salacious images of your thick thighs pinned under his hands as he bounces you up and down on his cock, groping your tits, stomach, and ass. You’d be so small underneath him, his big body taking over as he ruts into you and hopefully breeds you, taking you as his own.

He towers over you now, staring down into those big, brown, doe-like eyes of yours that twinkle like the stars above. Realizing he’s been staring at you without answering, Rengoku blushes and quickly tries to recover. “Uh…y-yes,” he replies, clearing his throat. “I felt that tonight was the night I should tell you: I…like you.”

He had told you this minutes before when he randomly asked you to go for a walk with him on the walking trails in the forest. You had agreed much to his shock and relief. You had placed a hand on his bicep, hard and big from years of training, as you walked through the forest darkened by night.

When you came to a clearing of pink flowers that matched the ones on your kimono, Rengoku finally confessed his year-long feelings to you, albeit sweating profusely and stammering. At first, when he confessed, you smiled your beautiful, blinding smile and said, “Oh, Ren, I like you too!” You placed a hand on his arm, making him shiver. “You’re a great fighter and an even greater friend.”

Rengoku can’t lie: he died inside hearing that. But he wasn’t the type to back down. You needed to know how he truly felt. So he elaborated: “No, no…I mean…in a romantic sense. I like you.”

Your smile had faded, replaced with an expression of confusion and surprise. You stand before him now, still looking confused and a little tense. “I-I’m sorry,” he says, feeling guilty and ashamed for making you feel some type of way. “Is this making you uncomfortable? I can sense the tension in your body. Please tell me I’m being too overbearing or if you don’t feel the same way!”

You stare down at your flip-flops sinking into the pink flowers before. “I didn’t say that,” you softly say. “I’m just…surprised is all. You’ve never really made it clear how you feel about me before. You never gave me signals or anything.” Rengoku cocks his head to the side like a lost puppy. “Signals?” he asks. “I’m not sure I follow.”

You look up at him standing a good head taller than you. “Y’know, like your hand lingering on my waist during training more than it should. Flirting. Compliments. Maybe asking me on a date.”

Rengoku blinks and his face flames up in embarrassment. You’re right! How could he tell you this now when he’s never made it known that he feels such a way about you? Tengen has no problem with it. Even Obanai, as shy and as reserved as he is, showed Mitsuri how he felt before they started officially dating.

Rengoku awkwardly rubs the back of his thick neck, right under his curtain of fiery orange and red hair like a lion’s mane. “Oh,” he chuckles bashfully. “I understand. Well, I didn’t want to come off as inappropriate or make you feel fearful of me. After all, I am your superior.”

You shrug to yourself, gnawing on your lush bottom lip. He stares at it a little too intently. “I guess so,” you say. “But that’s not stopping you from telling me how you feel now.” You give a little awkward, soft giggle that eases the tension somewhat.

Silence descends upon you for a few seconds, only filled by the distant sounds of the festival, a lone hooting owl, and crickets chirping in the night. He watches your face, noticing your frown and apprehensive eyes. “So…how do you feel about that?” he softly asks. “You don’t seem happy. Are you with one of the others? Maybe Tengen?”

You blink up at him, shocked. “Huh?!” you gasp, looking horrified at the idea. “No, no, the man already has three doting wives! I don’t wanna be one of them!” Rengoku breathes a sigh of relief. He would’ve probably killed himself if that were to happen.

“I’m just wondering if this is really real,” you admit. “Like maybe I’m dreaming or this is just a prank the others put you up to.” You look like you’re battling with yourself to admit this, still staring at the flowers.

Rengoku is confused by your confession. “What?” he asks, perplexed by such a statement. “Why would you think that?” You flush, playing with the tie to your kimono. “Well, b-because…” You pause, nibbling on that damn plump bottom lip again. He is quiet, patiently waiting for you to finish. When you look back up at him, you look so sad and broken that he wants to scoop you up and hold you.

“Because of my size,” you softly say. “My body. A man as handsome as you could get someone much smaller than me.” Rengoku takes a moment to process this, wondering what your size has to do with anything. “But you are small,” he laughs. “You’d be small to me at any size, Y/N. And beautiful at that.”

You look stunned by his compliment, but more than anything, you don’t look like you quite believe him. That’s when Rengoku realizes it: “Do you not like how you look?” He asks, wounded. How could you not see yourself as beautiful and as sexy as he does?

“No,” you sigh. “It’s not that. It’s just…well, men don’t exactly go for girls like me unless they just want me sexually. I’m not ever pursued romantically a-and…” You trail off, withering like a flower before him.

Rengoku is enraged. He wishes now he would’ve expressed to you how attractive he found you. He wants so desperately to tell you how he would stare at you while you trained or stretched, loving how tight your spandex shorts were on you. He may even tell you how he’d stroke himself at the thought of him taking down those shorts and fucking you, but not right now.

But right now, you do need reassurance. So he bends down and plucks one of the pink flowers before holding it between you. “You deserve to be pursued romantically every day,” he says. “You deserve to be courted not for selfish gain. You deserve to be cared for and taken care of for the beautiful, intelligent, sweet person that you are.”

He pauses, putting the flower behind your ear. He bites back a gasp at the softness of your hair as his fingers graze your curls. “And I’d like to be the man to do it,” he confesses. “I’m sorry it took me this long to say anything to you, but…I’d like to show you how I feel and have been feeling about you. If you’re okay with that.”

He stares down at you carefully, trying to see any kind of sign of a no in your pretty, round face. But when you look up at him with a shy smile and take one of his huge hands in your smaller ones, he knows that you feel the same as he does. “I’d like that, Rengoku,” you say barely above a whisper.

Rengoku cannot stop the smile that stretches across his face. Because you’re so short, he has to bend down to kiss you, but does it slowly, giving you time to change your mind and say no. But you don’t. In fact, you lean in too, moving up slightly on your tip toes to reach him. Then your eyes are closing, your mouth is parting, and your lips are on his.

You feel and taste better than he ever could’ve imagined. Your lips are pillowy soft, supple, and taste slightly of shaved strawberry-flavored ice. He knows you can taste the sake on his, but luckily not the bowls of miso ramen and other treats he consumed thanks to the mint leaves he chewed on earlier before he spirited you away.

A soft moan leaves your lips as your hands move to his chest, pressing against his hard pectorals. He feels his cock surge at the small sound and moves his hand to grab your waist. He doesn’t go any lower than that. Though you are driving him insane, he wants to be respectful of your body.

When you finally pull away, he is left in a daze and hard as a rock. That was so dreamy. Romantic even given the privacy and stars above. It’s the best kiss he’s ever had. “I’ve wanted that for so long,” he sighs. “Was it okay for you?” His hands move up to caress your back, making you shiver in delight.

“Yes,” you whisper and you lean up to kiss him again.

This one is more passionate and eager, yet still sweet, and knocks Rengoku off his feet. He can’t help but moan with you as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He wraps his arms tight around your waist, nearly picking you up off of the ground. Your bodies press flush together in the summer’s night, the only thing separating you being your clothes.

If the clothes were off, Rengoku doesn’t want to think about what would happen. And because he’s about a millisecond away from ripping off your kimono, he gently pulls himself away from you, both of you panting heavily. “We should probably head back now,” he shakily suggests. “The gang may be wondering where we—“

“No,” you protest. “Stay with me a little longer.” Though your eyes are shy, your hands grasp his biceps, keeping him grounded there. “I’ve wanted this too,” you confess, making Rengoku’s heart flutter. “I feel the same, Rengoku. I just didn’t want to tell you because—“

You don’t get a chance to finish because Rengoku’s big hands are grasping your cheeks and his lips are capturing yours in a mind-blowing, toe-curling kiss. You both feel fireworks explode in your head every time you touch. He pulls away and begins peppering your neck in kisses, slowly and sweetly. “I understand,” he breathlessly murmurs. “But it doesn’t matter now. Just show me how you feel now, Y/N.”

You softly moan, leaning your head back to expose your neck, allowing him to kiss every part of your skin. He goes lower, tracing his lips down to your chest and collarbones, right between that little sliver of your open kimono where he can see your cleavage. “Does that feel good?” He whispers. You nod, staring up at him in a daze.

He wants to make you feel even better. His body is hot and tingly for you, needing more of you. He swallows, struggling to form a coherent sentence due to his horny thoughts. “I want to show you more of how I feel. I…I want to…to—“

“Make love to me?” You finish, your smile bemused and seductive. “I want that too, Ren. I want out here, now, with you.” You run a hand up his chest, your fingers pressing against his skin.

“Out here?” He parrots, shocked. “But anyone could see us! We could be caught by one of the Corps or—“

“I don’t care,” you breathlessly protest. “I’ll be embarrassed about it later, but right now, I can’t wait. I’ve wanted you for so, so long!” You push yourself against him, giving him a feel of your hard nipples underneath your kimono. Your body wants him. You want him.

Rengoku cannot deny you even if he tried. “Lay down with me,” he whispers in his deep, velvety voice. You eagerly do so, lay down on your back in the pink flowers before. He lays beside you and begins kissing up your neck, his hands roaming over your body. “You’re perfect,” he sighs. “I’ve wanted you for so, so long. You have no idea.”

He looks at your face, his cock hardening at your eyes closed and your lush lips parted. “Yes,” you moan. “That feels so good, Rengoku.” With a pleasurable shiver, he toys with the tie holding your kimono together and pauses, looking at you. “May I?” You nod, helping him untie your kimono.

When the flaps finally fall open, his eyes widen at the heavenly sight in front of him: rolls, soft flesh, a jiggly tummy, thighs, and breasts. He practically moans at the sight of you. “Look at you, baby,” he coos. “You’re absolutely stunning.” He leans in and presses a kiss to your lips.

“Breathtaking.” His lips trail down to your neck to kiss your throat. “Sexy.” His tongue jets out to lick down to your breasts, much to your enjoyment. He takes one into his mouth and sucks on your hardened, brown nipple, rolling the little pebble around his tongue before popping it out of his mouth.

“Tasty,” he whispers. He smiles at your fit of giggles, your body jiggling under his hands. “You were fixin’ to say that,” you chuckle. “But so are you.” You lean in and give a salacious lick down his chest, coaxing him to take his kimono off from the waist up.

He moans at your hands and lips on him, touching, kissing, and licking up his muscles. While you do, he plays with your sweet, juicy tits, molding the pretty, heavy things in his hands and sucking on your nipples. When he lightly nibbles on one of them, you moan into the night, tilting your head back. “Right there,” you sigh.

“Where?” he teasingly asks. “Here?” He does it again but massages one of your tits as he does, stimulating you even further. At some point, you slide into his lap, causing you to straddle him and your panties to glide against his thigh. “Fuck, Ren!” you moan. Realizing how loud you are, you bite your lip. “Sorry. That just felt so good.”

Rengoku’s eyes flash with an inner fire only you can see at the sound of your sweet, delicious moans. “Don’t be sorry. It’s just us here, baby. You can be as loud as you want.” As he continues to coat your nipples in his spit and bites, you take his hands and put them on your ass as you grind into him shamelessly.

Rengoku can’t get enough of how free and liberated you are tonight. And just for him. He especially loves how soft your tits are and the heat he can feel pooling from between your legs. He stares up into your twinkling, brown eyes. “I want to taste more of you,” he pants. “May I do that?” Wordlessly, you nod, biting your lip and making him harder. “Stand up and lean against the tree. I’ll take it all from there.”

You do as he says and lean against a nearby tree, your body glistening in the silver moonlight. You look so ethereal and gorgeous that Rengoku nearly pulls his cock out and fucks you right against the tree! But not yet. Not until he pleases you first.

Minutes later, he does just that and has you pinned against the tree while he kneels in front of you, his tongue slurping at your cunt with one of your legs hooked over his shoulder. You pant and moan above him, your hands running through his long, fiery, spiked hair, pulling at strands when he gently sucks on your clit or swirls his tongue around your pussy.

You’re so vocal, unable to keep your voice down. “Oh, my God,” you moan. “Fuck, Rengoku, yes! Y-You’re so…oh…good!”

You whimper, squeezing your eyes tight due to the sheer pleasure he’s giving you. He can tell you love it from the way your pretty pussy is gushing into his mouth, giving him more and more of your honey.

He pulls away slightly to look up at you, his lips glistening with your juices. “It’s okay, baby,” he coos into your pussy. “Just let go. I’ve got you.” He dives back in, slurping and eating you as if it’s his last meal. You taste, smell, sound, and feel so damn good! How he’s wanted to do this for you for so long!

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he whimpers. “You’re so tasty here.” You’re the tastiest thing he’s ever consumed. He can feel his cock painfully aching underneath his kimono, leading him to slowly stroke himself as he eats you out. “Fuck!” You sob. “Please, R-Rengoku, don’t tease me!”

He can’t help it. He just loves how loud and slutty you sound whenever he slowly strokes up your slit to your rosebud. You sound so cute. So needy. He’s feeling needy too. That primal instinct to have you returns, overtaking him. “Need more,” he growls. “I need more of you, baby.”

Thinking with his dick instead of his brain, he takes your other leg and hooks it over his shoulder. Suddenly, your feet are dangling over his broad shoulders as he stands up, his hands securely under your ass and keeping you leaned against the tree. “Wait, wait!” you gasp, gripping his hair, your body tense with fear. “What are you—“

“Relax,” he chuckles. “I’ve got you. Just relax for me and don’t squirm too much.” He gives you a wink before diving into your pussy again, drinking your honey straight from the source.

All protests and fears are stolen away as you feel his tongue slide between your lips and inside you, your clit bumping against his nose. Your eyes roll back at the pleasure, the sight absolutely porn-worthy to Rengoku. “Oh, my God, yes,” you whine. “O-Oh, fuck, Ren, yes!”

Even as his neck starts to ache and his jaw tires, he doesn’t stop. He needs you to cum. He needs to make you feel good. When you begin to get louder and your pussy quivers, he can tell that you’re close and moves his jaw faster. “O-Oh, my God!” you sob. “Rengoku, I’m gonna cum! Oh, fuck yes, make me cum!”

His own need makes him insane, causing him to whimper into your pussy and say things he never would say. “Cum,” he begs. “I fucking need it. Give it to me, please.”

Hearing him beg so prettily makes you finally combust. “Oh, fuck!” you loudly sob as you cum around his tongue, that dam inside of you bursting open. Rengoku moans as you flood his mouth and taste buds with your cream, becoming drunk on your cum.

As you moan and babble above him, fisting his hair, he cleans you up, licking your thighs and pussy lips of all of your mess until you’re coated in just his spit.

When you finally come down from your high, you look down at him, grateful and adoringly so. “That was amazing,” you sigh, filling him with pride. “Now it’s your turn.”

He helps you down and switches places with you, so now he’s pinned against the wall, completely at your mercy. Minutes later, you find out just how delicious he is too when you’ve got his cock down your throat. And he finds out just how amazing your mouth is.

Your soft lips cushion around his shaft as you bop up and down on his cock, thick, girthy, and shaded tan. He blushed as you stared at it once he got his clothes off, standing naked before you like a living, breathing Adonis statue. “Your cock is so pretty, Rengoku,” you whispered, wrapping a hand around him.

You stared at your hand wrapped around his cock, your fingers only stretching around some of the base. You weren’t shocked that your big man also had a big cock. Rengoku, however, was a straight-up mess. He has faced the worst of demons in his lifetime yet he could hardly handle seeing such a pretty, plump thing on her knees with her pretty nails and skin contrasting against his pale complexion.

He can hardly handle you now, seeing his cock disappear down your throat, your cheeks hollow and your brown eyes staring up into his. Your wet tongue and soft lips feel like heaven, the closest he feels he’ll ever be to it, and he intends to enjoy it.

“That’s so nice,” he sighs. “You’re doing so well, baby.”

You pull off of him with a wet pop, letting his hard cock fall out of your mouth and slap against his lower stomach. “I hope so,” you giggle. “You’re so quiet.” He bites his lip, bashful. He was keeping it down in fear of others hearing him, but your mouth is so fucking good that he wants to growl, grunt, and scream about his pleasure to the listening skies.

Your hands sneak up his clenched abs and trembling body, caressing his stomach. “It’s okay,” you purr. “You can be loud too. Lemme hear you.” Then, with no hands, you wrap your lips around him again and deepthroat his cock, easing your throat back and forth.

Rengoku can hardly believe his eyes. How is such a beautiful creature such as yourself on his knees for him, throating his dick like this? A whimper leaves him and he begins to crumble, unable to hold himself back anymore. He wraps a hand in your hair, caressing your scalp as you bop your head. “Oh, fuck,” he groans. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Keep lookin’ up at me, gorgeous, please.”

You do so, giving him a look at the spit dripping from your lips and chin. It’s such a slutty, lewd look that has him throbbing and his balls clenching at the sight. You once again pop off of his cock and begin licking him up and down, even caressing his balls with your tongue.

“Is my mouth good, baby?” you teasingly ask. “Am I makin’ you feel good?”

Whimpers and groans leave Rengoku’s mouth as if a bottle has been opened and can’t be closed unless he cums. “Y-Yes!” he gasps. “So, so good!” Feeling your hot, wet tongue on his balls, filled up with cum for you, makes him want to bust all over your pretty face and body.

You pop his balls out of your mouth and lick up the underside of his dick. “You sound much better than my dreams,” you moan, taking a lick of his cock. You pause, quickly pumping his cock with your hand as you stare into his eyes. “Fuck my face, Ren. I want you to.”

You press a kiss to his head, making him flinch. “Please,” you whimper, batting those pretty lashes up at him. How can he possibly deny you?

Losing all control and restraint, Rengoku pushes you back down onto his cock and proceeds to fuck your face, thrusting his hips into your soft, wet hole. You gag and gargle around his dick, breathing through your nostrils in time with his thrusts. He can feel his mind going blank and his entire body clenching as his balls tighten, ready to empty themselves out of his cock and down your pretty, sloppy throat.

You help him, holding his hips and pushing yourself deeper so his cock hits the back of your throat. He loudly moans at the contact, not even caring if anyone from the festival hears. He can feel his end nearing. “Hah, hah, fuck, gorgeous!” he pants. “I-I think I’m gonna…you need to stop or I’ll…oh, fuck!”

He has no chance to fight it. With a loud, low groan of your name, he spills his seed into your mouth and down your throat. You moan eagerly as he fills your tastebuds with his warm, salty cum, flooding your tongue with the taste of him. You don’t move, instead licking up the rest of him and swallowing his nut. The sight of you taking him so well makes the orgasm last longer and he nearly passes out from the blissful feeling.

When he finally finishes, you pull off of him and lick your lips of his nut and your spit. “I’m sorry,” he sheepishly apologizes. “I couldn’t stop it.” You giggle cutely at him despite having done what you just did. “Don’t be sorry. I enjoyed it.” And he loves that you enjoyed it.

He holds a hand out to help you off of your knees. As you stand before him and wrap your arms around him, only one thing stops you from being flush against each other: his cock which has begun to grow hard again, standing at attention. You look down at the growing appendage and your eyes grow wide at the sight. “Oh!” you gasp. “Y-You’re still–”

“Yeah,” he sighs, subconsciously criticizing his dick. “I just can’t believe I really have you like this and I guess I’m just excited.”

Feeling your soft, plump body against him is more than he can take! He needs to see you underneath him, taking his cock, or bent over, your ass presented to him to spank and massage until he empties himself inside of you again.

But he wants you to want that too, so he presses a hand to your cheek to keep your eyes fixated on his. “If you don’t want to go any further, we don’t have to. It’s all up to you, sweetie.”

You press your cheek farther into his touch and then stand on your tiptoes to kiss him. Your soft lips make him grow harder. “I want to,” you murmur softly against his mouth. “We may have to keep quiet though.” He nods in understanding.

That doesn’t last for long though. Actually, that “quiet” shit goes straight out the window the minute Rengoku gets inside of you and has you pinned up against the tree while you sink down onto his cock. You are both unable to keep your voices down as your sobbing wet, tight pussy slides down on Rengoku’s thick, hard cock over and over again, somehow becoming more intense with each passing second.

“Fuck, Ren!” You moan into his ear. “You’re so…so…oh, fuck!” You wrap your arms and legs tight around him while he bounces you up and down on top of him, filling you up with dick again and again.

Rengoku can barely handle the feeling of your soft, curvy body against him, his big hands gripping your ass as he thrusts up into you. “I know,” he groans. “You feel so fuckin’ good, gorgeous. Fuck, I’m so sorry it took me so long to do this.”

But feeling your bodies, damp and sticky from the summer’s night, against each other and your cunt squeezing around him make it all worth it. “M-Me too!” You whimper sweetly to him. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how I felt before.” You bury your face in his hair as you moan and whine, trying to keep your voice down as much as you can.

Rengoku laughs lightly as he fucks you against the tree, gripping you to him. “You sound so cute, baby,” he pants. “You love gettin’ fucked out in public like this, don’t you? Who would’ve thought such a great trainer would be such a little slut.”

Your pussy tightens at the vulgar word, leading him to fuck you slower, teasing you. His strokes are still deep and draw sobs and whines out of you that make him want to bust the fattest nut inside of you. To anyone who walked by, they’d see him—a big, tall man—fucking you—a beautiful, curvy woman with the heels of her feet in her man’s firm ass and her nails sinking into his shoulders.

After a few more strokes, Rengoku gently lowers you onto your feet. You look up at him, dazed and cock drunk. In his crimson eyes rimmed with gold, you see passion and lust flared within them. “Turn around,” he demands. “I need to see this gorgeous ass bounce when I cum again.”

He leans down to give you an open-mouthed kiss, swirling his tongue erotically with yours. When he pulls away, he presses a kiss to your earlobe. “And I want us to cum together,” he murmurs into your ear. “Can we do that, baby?” He takes a nibble of your earlobe, emitting a soft moan from you.

You grip his arms and sink your pretty, pink nails into them. “Please,” you whimper. He pulls away and bends his knees so he’s at eye level with you. “Please what, darling?” One of his big hands grips your chin, forcing you to keep looking at him.

You pull your lush bottom lip between your teeth and utter two little words that feel like a loaded gun to him: “Fuck me.”

It’s like Rengoku becomes a whole other person. Gone is the gold retriever, sunshiney man to see on a regular basis. The man in his place is lustful and demanding. And you love every minute of it, especially when he turns you around and bends you over, even gives your ass a smack. At the sound of your pleased moan, he does it again, the sharp sound of his hand connecting with your jiggling asscheek a symphony.

“Ready for me?” He softly asks, sliding his cock against your slit. You whimperingly beg him to just take you, your knees bent and hands braced against the tree. As soon as he slides back inside you, he can’t stop the moan that escapes him: “Fuuuuck.”

You let out a moan as well, feeling your pussy stretch around his thick cock as he slides in, his pelvis flush against your asscheeks. His strokes start off slow and deep, his hands gripping your juicy hips, his face buried in your hair as he whispers sweet, dirty nothings to you, like “You’re such a good girl” and “You look so perfect with my cock in you, darling”.

At the sound of your voice rising above the trees, he goes harder and faster, his big hands gripping your tits. Wet plap-plap sounds fill the air, mingling with your mindless babbling as Rengoku wears your pussy out: “Shit, Rengoku, yes, fuck me! Fuck me just like that, oh, oh!”

You begin to grind back into him, meeting his thrusts and causing him to sink even deeper inside of you. “Yes, gorgeous,” he praises you, laying a spank on your ass. “Fuck me back. Take me like you own me.”

You fuck each other, giving all the energy that you have in bringing each other pleasure. Rengoku can feel his balls tightening at the sight of your soft, round ass bouncing against him while you moan and whine. He’s so close! You are too and you make that known to him. “Oh, f-fuck, R-Ren,” you whimper. “I’m so close! Please don’t stop! Don’t—“

“Did you hear that?” A distant voice asks. “I think I heard it back there.” Tanjiro.

You and Rengoku share a look like you just heard a murder. He sounds like he’s at least five feet away from you.

“No, no, wait!” Zenistsu cries. “It could be a trap! You know the legends about spirits waking up during festival season!” He gasps. “Or what if it’s a demon?”

“If it is, we’ll kill it!” Inosuke bellows. “What’s the big deal, you big baby? We’ve fought off demons before!”

“Rengoku came out here, so he can’t be far,” Tanjiro says. There is the sound of footsteps and a twig snapping. “Uh, Rengoku-sama?” The young man calls. “Is that you?”

You look over your shoulder at Rengoku, terrified. “Don’t move,” he whispers. He clears his throat though still deep inside of you. “Uh, yes, Tanjiro!” He calls, keeping his voice steady and level. “It’s me! Why are you guys out here? Enjoy the festival!”

“Well, we were just wondering where you went,” Tanjiro explains. “It had been a while since you went on that walk with Y/N. We thought you guys got spirited away or were in trouble.”

“No, not we,” Insokue says with a scoff. “You two babies thought they were in trouble! I only came because Zenitsu was too much of a scaredy cat to go with you!”

Zenistu makes a noise between a whine and a scoff, offended. “That’s not true!” He protests. ”Why do you gotta always poke fun at me? It’s a forest! Anything bad can happen!”

The two begin to argue while Tanjiro desperately tries to stop them. “Guys, guys,” Rengoku firmly says, silencing them. “I’m fine! I just followed Y/N out to take her to gather some flowers. We’ll be back soon, so just head back to the festival.”

Your pussy clenches around him as his hand sneaks down to rub your clit, making him bite back a moan. “Are you sure?” Tanjiro asks.

“Absolutely!” he calls, his heart hammering against his chest. “Go and enjoy the festivities! We’ll be back before the fireworks!” He hears the three whisper amongst each other before finally, Tanjiro announces that they are heading back. ”We’ll save you a seat,” he says before his and the others’ footsteps descend.

Once their footsteps fade, Rengoku’s body relaxes. “They’re gone,” he announces and sighs in relief. “Thank goodness. I’m sorry about that.” He gently strokes your back, hoping to ease your body out of its fight-or-flight state.

Shockingly, you are still wet and still horny, looking back at him with the sexiest eyes he’s ever seen. “Don’t be sorry, baby,” you purr. “It wasn’t your fault. Just cum with me.”

You begin to toss your ass back into him, your pussy swallowing him up. “Please fill me up,” you beg. “I need it so badly.”

Rengoku, helpless to deny you and needing release, wraps a hand around your neck and gently squeezes. The way your lips form an O is an erotic sight, indeed. “You’re such a little slut, you know that?” He growls. “Such a good little girl for me.”

With his other hand, he grabs your hip and pistons himself into you again and again, plunging his cock into the wet depths of your soft pussy and flicking your needy clit at the same time.

It doesn’t take long for that button inside of you to flicker on and Rengoku feels your pussy tighten around him, squeezing him tighter than a vice.

“I’m cumming!” You sob. “Ren, I’m cumming! I’m…I’m…”

You don’t get a chance to finish because your pussy is spasming around his cock and cumming on it, dripping cream down to his balls. Your little body spasming in his hands and your loud moans cause him to cum too, triggered by all of you.

A low yet loud groan leaves Rengoku’s mouth as he empties his balls inside of, rope after rope of cum escaping his cock and into your womb. He grips you to him, afraid that you’ll vanish and he’ll never be able to get this moment again.

“Shit!” He hisses, pressing his face into your soft, sweet-smelling hair as he goes through the motions of his orgasm. ”Take it,” he growls. “Take it all. It’s fucking yours.” You gasp at the onslaught of warmth and wetness, feeling overloaded with cum.

You are absolutely full of him.

After a few more shallow thrusts and a feeble grab of your breast, Rengoku presses a kiss to your forehead and gently pulls out of you. The sight of his nut dripping down your pussy and thighs is damn near too much.

Together, you both lie down in the flowers side by side, Rengoku’s big, muscular body curled into yours. Legs tangled, fingers stroking, and lips touching each others’. You lay in the sweet afterglow, only the stars witness to what just transpired.

For a while, you lie in comfortable silence. And then you speak. “That was amazing,” you sigh. “You were so good.” You press your hand and cheek to his chest, feeling and listening to his thumbing heart.

Rengoku feels pride and joy swell within him. “So were you.” He takes your hand and presses several kisses to them. Once again, he holds you close, not wanting to lose this peaceful moment. But alas, everything good must come to an end.

The only thing that makes him happy is that you will get many more moments like this now that he knows how you feel.

He sighs, lamenting. “I don’t want to leave, but we should probably head back.” You nod in agreement, sharing one last kiss before you separate and rise to your feet.

You get dressed and fix your hair to make sure neither of you look like you just fucked in the woods. Rengoku watches you wobble slightly. “Can you walk?” he asks, concerned. You nod though you keep leaning against one of the trees.

He tuts, stalking over to you. “That won’t do.”

In one swift motion, he scoops you up and carries you bridal style away from the clearing. “Rengoku, no!” you squeal in protest. “I’m fine! I-I can walk! Put me down!”

But he doesn’t listen, gripping you tighter. ”Just enjoy the ride, honey,” he chuckles. “We’ll be back in no time to see the fireworks.” He gives you a wink and his laugh echoes among the trees as you flush embarrassingly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

When you and Rengoku make it back to the festival, the fireworks have already begun. He puts you down and you find the gang among the crowd. Mitsuri greets you first, yelling among the boom of the fireworks. “There you two are!” she shouts. “We thought you got lost! C’mon, the fireworks started and I’ve got the best seats.”

She grabs your hand and drags you over to her seat on the grass with Tengen’s wives. Speaking of Tengen, he comes up to Rengoku’s side with some shaved blue moon ice, a smirk playing on his lips.

“That was some walk,” he comments. “Guess you got her before I could, huh?” He raises an eyebrow at his fellow slayer and friend.

“That’s right,” Rengoku confidently says, raising his chin and smiling. “I’m sorry to break it to you like this, Tengen.”

Tengen just keeps smirking, ever so cocky. “How flashy of you,” he chuckles. “I guess my plans for a fourth wife have been ruined.”

Rengoku must look horrified and absolutely murderous because Tengen nearly doubles over cracking up. “I’m kidding!” he laughs. “I just wanted to see your face!”

He pats Rengoku on the back and leans in. “But you may wanna break this lightly to my girls,” he whispers. “They were looking forward to a fifth in our little family.”

Sure enough, the sister wives are doting over you, talking about how pretty you look in your kimono. Tengen gives Rengoku a wink before walking over to join his wives on the grass.

Shaking off his words, Rengoku joins you on the grass shortly after and watches the colorful beams explode in the night sky. “Isn’t it so pretty?” you dreamily sigh.

He turns to you, watching red, green, and pink illuminate your face. He slides his hand over to yours and interlaces your fingers. “Yes,” he agrees. “It is.”

THE END.

[love-toxin]

Finale -> Lyney

plot: you and lyney can't really "agree" on the terms of your sudden breakup.

(cws: yandere!lyney, gn!darling, good ol' male manipulating, jealousy & cheating accusations, threats, crying, breakup angst w/ fluffy ending)

wc: 2k

It generally took very little for Lyney to find issue with something you'd done. Your partner was not callous or cruel by any means–in fact, he was often quite kind and caring, moreso than most others you'd met in your day-to-day life.

But if he was anything, Lyney was, well…devoted. Dedicated might be a more professional word, but the devotion of Fontaine's most prominent magician could not be understated nor ignored. Lyney was a performer, an artist, a man of great talent and greater loyalty, and nothing on the soil of Teyvat–not an ocean nor a rippling puddle–could tear him away from someone he proclaimed to love and adore. Nor would he ever allow someone he had devoted himself to be ripped from his embrace.

That was exactly where you found yourself now. The breakup had not gone well…Lyney had taken it quite badly. If the tears and desperate pleas for you not to leave weren't enough, the begging and tugging on your sleeves as he tried not to let you step away from him was simply too much to bear. He switched from devastation to fury in moments, flipping between one and another like an absolute crazed madman. He swapped between sobbing, begging to know what he'd done to ordering you through spiteful tears to tell him who the “other man” was, as if he were flipping one of his coveted playing cards. He grew so unhinged so quickly even Lynette had to get between the two of you to calm him down, and it just made it so much more of an ugly mess.

“Please, just think about it. My brother really loves you. Can't you two work it out?” Her words had come from a loving place, you knew, but it was simply not in the cards for you any longer.

You'd long grown sick of Lyney's jealousies, his possessiveness, his hunger for you that overwhelmed all common sense at all the wrong times and places. He wouldn't give you space and he wouldn't take no for an answer whenever you swore you would never leave him. It was his own fault that you had to go back on all those promises he never believed.

Now, all you had to do was pack your things. Lynette had graciously let you know when he was supposed to be out so you could come and collect them in peace, without starting another argument. But so very like her; she neglected to tell you that she'd also informed Lyney of when you were coming, and by the time you stepped into his room your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him. It was instantly too late to leave. You sighed, and your former lover's ears perked up as he sat back on his chair by the desk. Clearly, he had stayed to wait up for you.

“...And where is this attitude coming from?” He bit at you with a snark that had never before been directed at you in particular. You elected simply to say nothing; it would be best for both of you not to say a word. So while he stewed in his own feelings across the room, you shuffled over to the wardrobe right by the door and started stuffing things into the bag you'd brought, whatever you could reach. His violet eyes glowed with frustration, burning holes right through your back like lasers.

“Don't, Lyney. Please.” Your timid voice interrupted the tense silence that followed. At once you felt the air shift, and heard the sigh of Lyney behind you that warned you of an impending change of heart. Him being angry at you was all a farce. In truth he hated to show any irritation towards you at all, and even in relatively harmless fights he would always end up folding much sooner than you ever thought to as he despised not having your favour. The creak of the chair echoed in the small chamber, as did his footsteps as he methodically made his way towards you. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

Your fingers twitched as he took in a breath just a hair's length from your neck.

“I miss the scent you always leave on my pillow…” He muttered quietly. You said nothing. He took a strand of your hair between his gloved fingers, and it took everything within you not to cringe in anticipation of him ripping it out of your head. “I tried to use the soap you wash it with, but it just smells like nothing without you. It's not even worth the money.” He leaned forward, eyes closed, and delicately pressed a kiss to the nape of your neck.

Oh. Why had you let him do that? Why were you letting him still get closer, his chest and his hips meeting yours from behind? You didn't even make a move to flinch at the contact, and that was all that would have stopped Lyney if you had the guts to do it.

Perhaps the answer was obvious. You didn't want him to pull away.

“...You know, if you come back to me, I'll buy it for you from now on.” Now came the bargaining again. Lyney's hands moved upwards to brace your hips, and although you moved your own palm over one of them, your muscles still refused to contract and tug his off of you. Lyney slowly started to sway with you, taking hold of you like a little porcelain doll to posture as he pleased. This dance was so familiar–he would do this every time you stood at any counter, and distract you from whatever you were doing–and it was the nostalgia, you realized, that was stopping you.

“Lyney, we're broken up.” Your lip wobbled while you swung that truth at him like a weapon. But he seemed…unaffected. His words had no tinge of hurt nor malice like they had before.

“We can get back together.” He whispered against the shell of your ear. “All this will go away. I can make all the bad things go away. I can get rid of whoever's pulling you from me-”

“Lyney, I told you there was nobody else.” You broke away from his touch, away from those fingers that crept down your sides and the hug he'd been holding you in from behind. You stepped away and turned to face him, your conviction still not as unwavering now that you'd allowed yourself a moment to bask in Lyney's attention.

“And I told you that you're a damned liar, sweetheart.” Lyney suddenly spoke through gritted teeth, though his smile remained albeit much more tense and nowhere near the vicinity of reaching his eyes. “I'm sure it was that ginger rat that was sniffing around you, but I told you, I've already forgiven you. Plus, he's out of the picture–there's nothing keeping us apart anymore.”

“Lyney, stop! Can you just stop? Why can't you ever just believe me when I tell you anything?” The huff in your tone barely moved the needle for Lyney this time. He was clearly too wrapped up in the gleam of your eyes and the soft press of your lips together as you spoke to take in anything you were saying.

“You're so beautiful when you're angry.”

“You're not listening to me.”

“Kiss me.”

How many times had your arguments culminated into this? Into Lyney grabbing your waist against your will, all smiles and teasing giggles, as he blew puffs of air against your skin until your composure broke? He darted forward with eager lips to try and catch you, just barely backing you into the wardrobe, and on the third try he actually cracked your facade–his desperate kissy sounds and gentle tickling actually made you laugh. Really laugh, for the first time in what felt like ages. And for perhaps the first time, he didn't claim his prize once he figured he'd won. He stood back, hands still gripping you gently, and just watched as you laughed and snorted at how bad his aim was. “Just like always,” You said, and that part hit a nerve within him.

“Come back to me.” He faced you with a serious disposition yet again, and although you balked and rolled your eyes at the moment growing tense yet again, he persisted. “Let's forget this. I'll do better.”

“No you won't, Lyney.” You sighed. “You never change.”

“I will for you.” He swore, moving closer to keep your gaze as if losing it would mean losing this battle he was fighting so hard. “I'll change. I'll be better. I'll do anything for you. Anything.”

“Will you? Change, I mean?” You hesitated even to ask, but Lyney did more than answer. He dropped to his knees right there, his hat tumbled away and off to the side. He wouldn't look up at you with anything but doe eyes, his chin resting snugly against your soft stomach as he held your waist in his arms from below.

“I love you more than life itself. I'll be a better man, I swear. I'll change. I'll change right now! I won't…I won't ever doubt you again.” He nuzzled his face deeper into your belly. He clearly must have missed you at least twice as much as you expected, since he seemed to shudder in pure bliss at just the warmth of your skin through your clothes–a reprieve you had no idea he wanted to claw his eyes out over the fear of losing. He spoke again from the muffled depths of your shirt. “Just come back to me. I'm sorry I never believed you when you said you wouldn't leave. I won't hold it against you–I drove you away, didn't I? It's my fault. I-I deserve it, but I…” He sniffled, and turned his cheek to your stomach instead to keep from soiling your clothes with his tears. “...I just want you back. I feel like I can't breathe without you, my darling. Please come back, and I'll fix everything.”

And in the midst of so many conflicting feelings, you stood there and let him cry. Although this time was brief and much less charged than when you'd first broken up with him, in this moment you let your body move on its own to soothe his pained woes. Your fingers slid through his blond locks and stroked him, trailing over his scalp in waves that instantly calmed Lyney down. You fidgeted with the ends of his hair with your other hand as well, mindlessly combing through those messy stray hairs that you always watched him tuck back into place before a performance. You did love Lyney. As much as you wanted to hate his attitude towards your separation, you could only feel sympathy now–it was a dangerous game you were playing with someone as manipulative as he could be, but you didn't know that, at least not well. You had no idea that even now, those gentle sobs were nothing but crocodile tears.

Lyney did well to shield you from all that. And when your knees started to buckle, and your strong will began showing cracks, your ex-lover went in for the kill with one last, yearning look up at you, eyes glistening with fresh tears.

“Please, baby?”

You were finished. The words didn't even register as they tumbled out of your mouth–all you knew was that in a moment, Lyney was up on his feet and he was hugging you tight, nearly crushing your bones as he promised ad nauseum that he wouldn't waste this precious chance. He would be better, he would do better, he would listen and be more attentive and not be so pushy–and though you only believed half of those promises in the moment, the desperation with which he kissed you and the squeeze of his arms trapping you in a tearful hug inflated some sense of belonging within you.

At least with Lyney you felt wanted. You felt desired, needed, not like a piece of furniture or a token but as someone who literally laid the ground for him to walk on. He wouldn't dare breathe an ounce of air if you weren't around to give him a reason to. And as bad as it might turn out to be when the people closest to you start going missing….at the very least, the man who refuses to live without you will only get closer and closer to your side, desperate to earn that approval of yours that he coveted more than all the Mora in the gods' universe.

[inamindfarfaraway]

The Exorcists’ Masks of Virtue

The vast majority of Exorcists in Hazbin Hotel have a notable design element that other angels don’t: their masks are missing an eye. Specifically, the right eye.

I believe this is a reference to the Bible, Matthew 5:29. Jesus says, “If your right eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell.”

He’s being hyperbolic. Mr Free Healthcare was not pro-mutilation. What he means is that you have to be willing to make sacrifices to prevent sin. The context of the eye metaphor is him condemning adultery and warning that even something as easy, casual and small as a look full of lustful intent can lead to further, worse sin if you don’t notice your sin, hold yourself accountable for it and do the work to not let it influence your decisions. This will probably be hard. It could be very, very painful. Changing your perspective can feel as horrible as plucking out your eye, so many people can’t bring themselves to do it. But although it won’t feel that way in the moment, it’s healthier for our general wellbeing in the long run to abandon traits and behaviours that damage ourselves and/or others.

(You may notice that Jesus’s teaching that you can have sinned, redeem yourself by giving up sin and thus escape damnation is the founding principle of the Hazbin Hotel. You may also notice that it contradicts everything the Exorcists believe.)

The Exorcists seem to follow this idea of painfully excising badness for the sake of the greater good devoutly to the point of placing it above teachings like ‘Thou shalt not kill’, with their job being to remove sin, in the form of sinners, to protect Heaven. Hence the missing right eyes. They’re a declaration of moral righteousness and inability to stumble.

But the truth is that the Exorcists all have their right eyes. Their flawlessness is a facade. Underneath, they are untouched, think themselves morally untouchable and, as shown by their horror and outrage when even one of them is killed, would much rather be physically untouchable too. This perfectly represents their complete unwillingness to acknowledge their own faults, let alone improve. They are never the ones who sacrifice. They force the sinners to sacrifice and don’t compensate it with any salvation. They metaphorically rip out the sinners’ eyes, but still condemn their entire bodies as inherently, permanently sinful. So they’ll just have to do another Extermination to get the other eyes! And another one to cut off their right hands! And so on until there’s nothing left.

The only exception to the rule is Vaggie, both in appearance and character. Her mask has the left eye crossed out instead. Even before her expulsion, she’s set apart to the audience as an Exorcist who has the capacity to, shall we say, see a different side of things. Her mask having its ‘sinful’ right eye reflects her understanding that the Exorcist worldview is wrong.

When she almost kills a demon child, her hateful vision clears. She discards the part of herself that’s an unquestioning, merciless agent of death, terror and grief… and as punishment for what Lute perceives as treacherous weakness, gets her eye plucked out.

Of course Lute leaves her with only the ‘sinful’ eye. It brands Vaggie forever as the inversion, a perversion, of what the Exorcists are meant to be.

You know, all this talk of eye removal in the Bible reminds me of another line - ‘an eye for an eye’. Adam directly quotes it in “Hell is Forever”. He uses it to frame the Exterminations as Old Testament-style punitive justice; the sinners did harm and so they receive it. But putting aside the debate about how ethical the concept of revenge is, the entire point of taking an eye for an eye is that it’s proportional. The punishment fits the crime. If someone cuts your eye out, you shouldn’t murder their whole family in front of them and then slowly disembowel them to death. That would be the sin of wrath. You should just make them pay without excessive pain or collateral damage. This is the fairest form of revenge.

The Exorcists don’t do that! The Exterminations aren’t proportional to the wrongs of all they hurt, nor was Vaggie’s brutal punishment equivalent to her extremely mild insubordination. Lute literally takes Vaggie’s eye, and more, after Vaggie does nothing to her! That’s the opposite of the phrase! Adam and his soldiers are wrathful and cruel, deriving satisfaction from others’ suffering. But they just can’t stop going on and on about how disgustingly evil the sinners are, in total hypocrisy… despite some of the sinners being far better people than the genocidal Exorcists are… it’s like they’re obsessed with specks of dust in the sinners’ eyes when they have massive logs stuck in their own. Oh hey, that’s in the Bible too!

[kohabielnin]

Helo,hello , I really really enjoy your Truth and inference series, and I'm so happy that your request box is open.

/*excited noises

Can I request the whole truth and inference cast reacting to a modern reader?(I really think there should be more idv x modernreader fictions),thank you, thank you.😘

Of course, I love exploring more of the T&I universe so it always excites me to be asked something about

D.M/Désire Mélodis

• When he discovered it, it was as if a million new possibilities had appeared to him,

• If with the knowledge of the time, it was already dangerous, with modern knowledge then...

• Everyone realized that he was treating you better than he treated others, just so he wouldn't lose you to Mr. Inference,

• Tuberose got a little jealous when he realized that D.M was treating you well and Gatto was deeply afraid of that,

• Passing on the knowledge you have to D.M can be one of the most dangerous things to do, you can't predict what this man will do,

• In general, even though he has ulterior motives for you, he seems to treat you well because he wants to, not to get information out of you, he is a real mystery

Noir/Saphir Mélodis

• He found this extremely interesting when he learned,

• Just as he found it interesting, the concern came in threefold,

• He doesn't want D.M to find out for fear of what his brother might do to you,

• Crimson also helps you hide your secret, since according to herself, nothing will stop her from treating you like a little sister,

• Sometimes, out of curiosity, Noir asks what things are like in the modern world and never ceases to be surprised by his answers,

• According to him, he would love to see how everything will turn out, but he knows he won't live long enough for that, so he is content just listening to their stories

Gatto/Aesop Carl

• First he was shocked, then excited, and finally confused,

• What would a person from the future be doing in the past, he thought, but the excitement of learning new things about chemistry was greater,

• He asked, even in a shy way, for you to teach everything you knew about medicine and modern chemistry,

• I can say that I have never seen a Gatto as excited as he was while you explained and demonstrated everything you knew to him,

• Even Cat was fascinated by his knowledge after making a delicious salmon dish that she had never even dreamed of trying before,

• You and Gatto made a promise that this would be your secret and no one else would know

Mr. Inference/Naib Subedar

• He was very excited for several reasons and one of them was that with his knowledge of his time, he would get evidence to put D.M behind bars,

• Lady Truth scolded him for thinking about using you to get rid of D.M, then he apologized to you,

• To make up for what he wanted to do, he bought you a basket of sweets which he shared with White and Lady Truth,

• You taught Mr. Inference everything you knew out of your own free will and he learned much faster than you imagined,

• For him, meeting you was like a blessing from the gods, after all, even if you weren't someone from modern times, you were still a great companion for him and his friends, so he felt grateful for that

White/Saphir Mélodis

• When you felt comfortable telling him, it was his happiest day, even though he already knew,

• Every fraction of a second, this boy asked a different question,

• Even though it was tiring answering so many questions, seeing his surprised and interested look, it was worth all the tiredness,

• Whenever you finish answering his questions, q he will say that I would love to be able to see with my own eyes what you are talking about,

• Even if it feels sad in your chest to hear him say that and know it's a lie, you still smile and say, who knows...

• Of course he notices that you are sad and showers you with affection, after all, for him, seeing your sad face is worse than death

[envysparkler]

Of all the people Bruce expects to see on his doorstep on a Sunday morning, Talia al Ghul is very, very low on the list.  Frankly, he’s surprised she bothered to knock.

“Oh,” Talia says, lips pursing in disappointment as he looms in the doorway, “it’s you.”  She rocks on her heels, like she’s attempting to peer around him.

“This is my house,” Bruce says, half-offended and half-bewildered.  She’s not alone, there’s a child scowling up at him—they’re making League assassins smaller and smaller these days—but Bruce ignores him and focuses on the greater threat.  “I’ve already told Ra’s al Ghul that Gotham is off-limits—”

“Don’t be ridiculous, this isn’t about him,” Talia waves him off and saunters forward, stepping over the threshold and into the house like it belongs to her.  The child follows her, only pausing to sneer at Bruce, and Bruce is left standing on his porch, thoroughly dismissed.

Talia always did have a way of getting what she wanted, and damn anything in her way.  It takes a moment for Bruce to shake the old, lingering fondness and remember that a deadly assassin is inside his house.

Alfred is going to kill him.

“Wait!  Talia!”  He catches up to her near the kitchen, where she is surveying the cereal boxes on the counter with palpable distaste.  The child looks like he’s trying to test them for poison, or possibly poison them himself, but Bruce doesn’t have time to worry about that, because she’s found—

“Uh, Bruce?” Tim’s voice cracks high, out of his chair and holding both his cereal bowl and his spoon ready to throw.  “Did you forget to tell me you had company?”

“Timothy Drake,” Talia says, cold enough to create icicles.  She studies him for a long moment, skipping from his Superboy pajamas to his bleary face to the overfull mug of coffee on the table.  “You are one of Lady Shiva’s.”

The child’s scowl deepens.

“Yes?” Tim looks at Bruce desperately, like it’s a test and he’s looking for the answer.  Bruce shrugs.

“She mentioned you were passable,” Talia sniffs.  “For a boy.”

Tim looks a mixture of outraged and pleased, but Bruce is more concerned with why Talia is here, standing in his home years after she gave back his mother’s ring.  Talia only reveals whatever she wants to reveal, and while she does only ever tells the truth, she lets him draw incorrect conclusions from those truths all on his own.  It means Ra’s isn’t involved in whatever brought her here, but that could mean anything from the old schemer being dead to Talia being on the run, and Bruce is not nearly awake for an imminent League invasion.

“Where’s Alfred?” Talia finally finishes her survey of the kitchen and rests her cool gaze on him.

That would be the reason Bruce is barely awake.  He only managed to drag himself from bed with the reminder that there was an unsupervised teenager in his house.  Unfortunately, he’d got there too late to save the coffeemaker.

“What do you want with Alfred?” Tim asks, on the verge of hostile.  The child draws himself up like a hissing, spitting snake, and only stays still by virtue of Talia’s hand on his shoulder.  Talia, for her part, merely looks inconvenienced.

“Well, this would’ve been several times simpler had he been here,” she sighs.  “I could’ve dropped off Damian for a spot of tea and gotten on with my business.”

“And what is your business?” Bruce presses.

Talia heaves another sigh—this time dramatic and put upon.  It’s an act, Bruce can tell, but that doesn’t help him, not when Talia turns to him and widens her eyes, looking up through her lashes.  “Unfortunately, Beloved, your son takes after you in terms of vanishing skills, and I’ve finally managed to track him down here, so I really must get going before he infiltrates that sorry excuse of a prison and finishes decapitating that clown you keep alive for some unfathomable reason.”

There’s a lot packed into that statement, and Bruce is still untangling ‘your son takes after you in terms of vanishing skills’ with the knowledge that Nightwing is supposed to be safely inside Bludhaven and the growing horror that Dick might’ve accidentally started a war with the League of Assassins, so it’s Tim that inhales first, staring at the child in sharp shock and then up at Talia, before finally turning towards Bruce.

“You have a kid with Talia al Ghul?!”

~#~

Talia, of course, does not bother to explain anything.  She merely instructs the child—Damian—to behave before vanishing back out the front door, and Bruce’s attempt to follow her is met with a katana and a high-pitched demand for a duel.  It becomes apparent that Talia’s version of behaving doesn’t match Bruce’s, because it takes several minutes and one shallowly bleeding slice before Bruce can extricate himself.

The child—his child—Damian leaves him alone then, looking disappointed in his swordsmanship skills, and turns instead to badgering Tim, who despite favoring a bo staff—“a clearly inferior weapon unsuited to anything but sloppy pulverization,” comes out crisp and clear-edged, much like Bruce himself when he was younger and his only point of reference was Alfred—is judged a suitable opponent on the basis of Lady Shiva’s reference.

Bruce is maybe a little sulky that a child—his child—has dismissed him in favor of a teenager with a pillow crease on his cheek, but he suppresses the emotion to dart to the Batcomputer so he can ask Nightwing what the hell he’s been up to.

Unfortunately, Dick’s response is both confused and irritated, which means Bruce has to waste time explaining the situation lest his eldest give him the silent treatment again, and Dick signs off with a promise to drop by, clearly excited at the prospect of a new sibling.

Bruce doesn’t warn him that this one is more apt to stab him than hug him.  Dick can figure that out for himself.

But with that distraction out of the way, he’s left to ruminate on Talia’s words.  She wasn’t talking about Dick, and clearly not about Tim, and not Damian, and Bruce has no other sons.  The thought drives a pang through him, a loss he will always carry, and he finds himself in front of the case with Jason’s uniform, as though it can help him solve the puzzle.

Is there another child out there he doesn’t know about?  He’d swear that he doesn’t have another with Talia, but he has no idea when or how Damian was conceived, so it’s the most likely explanation. 

[rottenpumpkin13]

hiii ! hope you doing well <3 i've a question, What do you think Genesis and Angeal's reaction would be if they discovered all the cruel experiments Hojo did on Sephiroth?

Hurt/comfort time! >:)

• Genesis and Angeal found out early in their friendship, when they were all still baby-faced. They were in the communal showers together one evening after training when they noticed how Sephiroth's back was marred with deep, purple bruises—healing, but still painfully visible.

• They demanded to know what had happened, Genesis especially was all insults to whoever dared lay a finger on him and threats involving fire. They couldn't fathom why Sephiroth would have these bruises if it was "merely a mission mishap" as he put it quietly. He hadn't gone on any missions that day, and instead had spent hours with Hojo before training.

• As much as they hounded him with questions and pressed for details, Sephiroth wouldn't tell them. They could tell he was embarrassed, but still, he reluctantly revealed the truth: Hojo had strapped him to a table, and that the bruising was a result of being slammed against it during a particularly cruel experiment involving lightning materia.

• Genesis was combat-ready and dying to conduct his own experiment on whether or not humans, namely Hojo, melted with enough fire.

• But Sephiroth quickly interjected, fearing their punishment, or worse: that they'd be taken away. The mere thought of confronting Hojo about anything sent him spiraling into a panic attack. He tried to explain that such treatment was normal for him, though he knew it wasn't right. "It's for the greater good," he explained, trying to rationalize the cruelty.

• Genesis and Angeal left the conversation feeling powerless. They needed to put an end to Hojo's experiments, but even they faced similar "appointments" with Hollander from time to time—albeit never to the extent Sephiroth experienced.

• The most heartbreaking part was Sephiroth's acceptance of his situation. He stated that it was fine because his body was designed to heal faster, as if he were merely a weapon rather than a person.

• So Genesis and Angeal decided to take a different approach. They aimed to remind Sephiroth that he was human, starting small with Genesis giving him small gifts—a trinket he'd like here, a heartfelt note there. Angeal would cook meals Sephiroth enjoyed, like pasta, soup, or steak, since Sephiroth also revealed that he wasn't allowed to enjoy them.

• They extended longer hugs and shared lighthearted conversations at the end of each day, giving him glimpses of a normalcy he had never experienced.

• After the lab appointments, they made it a point to give Sephiroth space while always leaving the door open for him to come to them. He learned that there would always be warm tea, comforting food, Genesis reading to him softly, and Angeal's hugs ready to soothe him.

• They fell into routine quite quickly after that, with Sephiroth seeing his two friends as the reason he had to live, the reason he wanted to live.

• ….Sephiroth also noticed that Genesis had purchased a body bag and a large axe shortly after the revelation… When questioned him about it, the redhead responded with "It's for when you change your mind."

[c4ttheart]

okkotsu yuta x gn!reader, 1.7k wc.

based on prompt ; "you’re in love with me." "you just found out ?"

reader is kinda weird tbh, i would not fw them, yuta is so awkward and in love, i love him, weird dynamic idk, confession but not really. maki is ooc. written for @daosies !

it’s not often students at jujutsu tech get to have a day off. you think it’s abnormal, to overwork teenagers even if it is for the greater good. so when you do find yourself free from the shackles of the overwhelming school, you do not hesitate to leave and explore Tokyo. unfortunately for yuta, that means he has to come with you.

unfortunate is a bit of a stretch, but he likes to tell himself that his personality is not completely attached to yours and he doesn’t like following you wherever you go. it’s alright though, that’s what best friends are for. (at least, he thinks so- he doesn’t really know, it’s been a long time since he had a best friend.)

you don’t even have to ask for him to come with you. he just does. he knows you guys do not have anything tomorrow, so when you scroll aimlessly on your phone and say "oh hey, it’s sales season." he just smiles from his end of the common room couch and looks at the itinerary. "okay" he whispers back, and you smile too. you do not worry about anything, because yuta probably already has everything planned, except your budget. you’ll think about that later. you like to ponder on the possibilities only when they’re right in front of you.

one thing you hate about the school is how far it is from civilisation. the train is agonisingly long, and the nearest train station is so far away you fear you do not feel your feet anymore. it’s alright though, the excursion is worth it and yuta carries your bags because otherwise you’ll complain about how sore your arms feel. he thinks you’re lucky, he has collected an increasing amount of physical strength due to maki’s training. if your muscles are weak, although he does not mean it in a bad way, that means you have not gone through the torture he was put through.

he likes you, so so much. and his heart throbs whenever you smile and take pictures with him, because all of this feels like something he could get used to. it feels like he could live this way forever and forget about the truth of the world he lives in. you’re happy, he notes, because if you weren’t, then the negativity of the people around him would be noticeable. but it isn’t, because you have a way to make all bad things disappear. and if you’re happy, that means you’re enjoying yourself. with him. and that is enough to make him happy too.

"yuta, crepes." you mutter as you point to whatever has your attention. he does not respond, he just follows, with that giddy smile on his face as if he had just gotten engaged. and it doesn’t matter if, for whatever reason, he disliked banana before, because now as you savour your crepe and offer it to him so he can take a bite, he thinks that nothing has ever tasted more wonderful than this.

(it takes everything in him not to turn beet red at the fact the two of you just shared an indirect kiss.)

it’s late when you return to campus. you’re tired, and exhausted, and you don’t think your feet (and wallet) have ever hurt this much. you say goodbye to yuta with a small wave and he smiles, his cheeks still slightly dusted pink from the fact that your hand brushed his when you took your bags back.

maki is sprawled out on your bed when you arrive. she does that often, claiming the connection is better in your room than hers. you know she likes your presence though, not toge’s, not panda’s, not yuta’s (and definitely not gojo’s), yours. you don’t understand why, unless she appreciates the silence and indifference you give to her. she’s your friend, of course, but that is just the way you are with everyone. except for yuta. you do try and keep the conversation going with him a little more than usual, but that’s different, because he’s your best friend.

yuta is your best friend because he does not complain. you like that about him, how he understands you without much words. you like how he knows what you like and complies. you like how he does not prod, and how he speaks for you to the cashiers. maybe you sound like a dictator, according to maki, but yuta does not seem miserable, so you don’t say anything.

"how was your date with that slave of yours ?" she asks, shutting her phone off to look at you. you frown.

"get off my bed. i sleep there. your clothes are dirty." you reply, organising the stuff you brought. it cannot wait until later, because if it does, you will simply not do it.

she shrugs, although a ghost of a smile is present on her face. you did not push her off this time, and that much is enough.

"you seem less cranky than usual. oh, i know-"

"i’m not usually cranky." you speak as you glance to her again. she’s sitting criss crossed, and although she is still on your bed, the covers are pulled up. you supposed that’s alright.

"yes, yes you are." you roll your eyes at her statement. you will not deny her her delusions, everyone is allowed to dream. "did he finally confess his undying love to you ?" she half snorts, and you already know she is ready to text toge your answer, considering how she pulled her phone back out.

you shake your head slightly, indicating her that no, he did not do whatever she thought he would, because that’s absurd. because, "we’re best friends." you answer.

maki frowns. "but he likes you."

oh. you think, what ? okay. you hum, okay.

the green haired girl leaves your room with a smile on her face and when you touch your cheeks you realise that they are hot. oh.

and you notice that you cannot stop thinking about him now. and whenever you do, your chest tightens. oh.

maybe, you think, you do like yuta too.

oh.

the next few days are quiet. you do not speak. oh, oh, and oh’s are all that you let out. suddenly, you are hyper aware of everything. everything yuta does. everything yuta says. everything yuta wears. and oh, you do not like that. you liked caring about nothing other than yourself. maybe, if you let him go, then everything will go back to the way it was. that sounds good, right ? but then again, you do not want to let him go. what will happen to yuta if he also stops to care about you ?

that does not matter right now. you will face the consequences later. you always do. and so you become quieter, if that is even possible. but yuta has always been an exception. yuta will always be an exception, and that worries you because you find yourself humming and nodding to whatever he says instead of just saying ‘oh’.

even though you do not have a plan to follow, you know that this is not a part of it. so you stop smiling to him. and then you stop nodding. then, finally, you stop humming too. and somewhere in between you forget to say ‘oh’. you forget to answer at all.

"(name)," he says, one breezy afternoon. you turn to look at him, but you do not hum.

he sits down besides you, on the cool stone stairs leading to the field. he shivers slightly, and you look back ahead. he watches you with that type of longing. you are not looking at him. you are looking at the horizon. something bigger. something unattainable. he repeats your name slowly, until your gaze is fixated on him again. he feels safer this way. he feels seen. this is all yuta has ever wanted, so he smiles.

"what’s wrong ?" he asks, tentatively.

you stare at him some more. nothing beneath those colourful eyes of yours. you like it when he cares about you, so you have to suppress a smile. "you’ve been avoiding me." yuta adds. "oh." you answer.

he lets out an awkward laugh, and when his eyes scan your face again before meeting yours you understand he’s asking why. it’s odd, to know you can read him too without words. oh, you think. you blink.

"you’re in love with me." you state. he blinks too, although incredibly faster, and you swear you’ve never seen him this red, as he tries to hide his face between his hands.

someone snorts very loudly from behind, and you cradle your neck to be able to see who it is. "you just found out?" panda hollers, gasping for air in between laughs. you should have known yuta would have not come alone. he is too scared of confrontation to talk to you himself. he buries his face even deeper in between his palms, wishing for nothing more than to carve his eyes out because if he doesn’t he might start crying.

panda runs away, still wheezing, as he exclaims something along the lines of having to tell toge. you shrug. yuta sniffs.

"i-i’m sorry. i understand if you never want to see me again, i should’ve known that-" yuta’s rambling is cut short when you lower his hand back down to the cement to place your own over his. he sniffles some more.

your heart aches, and you think oh, you do not like to see yuta cry. specifically not because of you. and you know that you should not be doing this because it is not what was supposed to happen but it’s okay, because there was no plan to begin with. after all, you like to ponder on the possibilities only when they’re right in front of you.

you smile at him, tentatively, before entwining your pinky with his. "it’s alright. stay."

and this time, yuta is the one to think oh, because he understands what you mean. maybe he does not understand why, but he shall ask you (or not) another time. for now, he lets the wind dry his tears and your head lay stiff on his shoulder. he wants to laugh at your awkwardness, but he decides against it. it is not his place to laugh. so he intertwines your fingers with his, and smiles back.

[bosbas]

Chapter 7: you search in every maiden's bed for something greater

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader WC: 3.2k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, misogyny (not by anyone relevant dw), idiots in love being idiots in love, angst, mentions of sex and drinking

Summary: You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You’re struggling to find someone you’re as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.

A/N: errr.... it's going to get worse before it gets better. sorry in advance

June 19, 1814 - Perhaps word of this author's disappointment by the ton's lack of happenings has reached Bridgerton ears. Whispers around the ton indicate that Mr. Benedict Bridgerton has been packing his belongings for an extended duration, leading one to speculate if this departure is more than a fleeting journey. The observant eyes of society are left to wonder about the purpose behind such preparations and whether, in the midst of packing, the second Bidgerton son is inadvertently leaving behind not only his material possessions but also a potential union with a certain Miss Beaumont.

Benedict was just about done packing, disappointed that his upcoming trip had been pointed out in the ton's gossip column. He was hoping to slip out relatively quietly, not needing further speculation on why he was leaving you, an undoubted topic of conversation for Lady Whistledown. The very reason he was leaving was for your sake, and he didn't want anyone making his own absence harder for you. 

The past days had been nothing short of agonizing for more than a few reasons. Ben knew his mother was disappointed in him for leaving, not immune to her sad stares and soft sighs, but he just couldn't go on like this. If he ignored his feelings, he knew he wanted you to find a husband, just as you had asked him to let you do. But he couldn't ignore his feelings. Not entirely, at least. Benedict was going half insane watching you dance with eager suitors and hearing you talk about the exotic and beautiful bouquets you had later received from them. He could barely sleep, plagued by thoughts of someone else making you laugh, and the dull ache in his chest had become a permanent fixture. 

His art studio felt cold and empty now, rarely graced by your warm and lively presence. Ben couldn't find it in himself to spend the hours he used to in there, missing your animated commentary as you read whichever book you had taken from the Bridgerton library that day. He had barely been able to paint at all recently, inside or outside his studio, frustrated that every single sketch or painting he started was in some manner related to you. Worse, he found he had little to no inspiration for new works without you by his side. Every single aspect of his life was completely turned upside down by your absence. Even the moon looked different. He could not look at the stars at night without remembering how your eyes looked at night, reflecting the soft starlight in the sky. 

So he was leaving. Perhaps it was a cowardly thing to do, but Benedict was desperate to regain some sense of normalcy in his life. He knew he couldn't have you, but he couldn't watch someone else have you, either. The only viable choice he saw was to go away, back to the countryside. Of course, his family saw right through his weak excuse of "needing time away to work on his art," but at least no one had the sense to confront him about it. Yet still, the truth lingered in the look of pity he received from Anthony and Colin and the quietly exasperated "Are you joking?" he heard Francesca whisper to Hyacinth. 

Ben had come to see you a few days ago and broken the news, and you had barely been able to concentrate since. Even though you had established some distance from your best friend, you still relished in the comfort of his nearby presence. You knew that even if you had a dreadful dance at a ball, one quick smile from Ben could immediately heal your stepped-on feet and put you in a better mood. 

But you supposed him leaving was for the best. At the moment, you weren't seriously considering any suitors yet. No longer having Benedict by your side might end up being more beneficial to you, even if your eyes were constantly filled with unshed tears and your lower lip was raw from nervous biting at the thought of him away in the country for months on end. You supposed you would have to move on from him, laying your feelings to rest. That was the whole point, was it not? Benedict would leave, and you would stop wishing every man you talked to was him. 

You were in your garden now, hiding in your usual spot behind the rose bushes with your nose stuck in a book in an attempt to evade your mother's call to practice your needlepoint. With Benedict leaving tomorrow, you reasoned that you should be excused from mind-numbing activities such as sewing due to your emotional distress. Unfortunately, your mother did not share this opinion, and you were forced into hiding to escape her demands. 

Hearing footsteps coming your way, you shrunk further behind the bushes, hoping you hadn't been caught and could spare another five minutes of peace. 

"Y/N Beaumont, come out of there this instant. You cannot simply avoid me when you don't want to play the pianoforte," came Benedict's voice from above you, taking on a high-pitched voice as he attempted to imitate your mother when she was frustrated with her children. You instantly relaxed, bursting into laughter.

"You are so evil! I thought I had actually been caught out. Although my mother wants me to practice needlepoint instead of pianoforte this time," you said as you rolled your eyes, playfully hitting his arm as he sat beside you. 

Ben laughed, shaking his head and snatching your book from your hands, leafing through it absentmindedly. "Hmmm, I figured it was something like that. I came into your house and saw the Countess quite exasperated, asking me if I knew where you were hiding," he said. Seeing your widening eyes, he quickly continued, "Oh, but don't worry. I would never betray you like that. The rose bush stays between us."

"Well, since you're leaving tomorrow, you very well could have revealed the hiding spot and escaped an untimely death," you retorted. Although you meant it as a joke, you couldn't help the break in your voice as you took in the reality of Benedict leaving for the countryside. You wrapped your arms around one of his, resting your head on his shoulder. You were breaking every rule you had established for your friendship, but you didn't care anymore.

Sighing deeply, Benedict placed his hand on top of yours. He could easily sense the pain behind your playful dig and couldn't help feeling the same way. Not finding the strength to continue the faux-playful exchange, Ben simply placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. "Either way, I could never. You're still my best friend. Always have been, always will be, Y/N Beaumont." 

You could feel a wave of tears welling in your eyes, starting to flow as you softly said your next words. "I know. I'm going to miss you, Benedict Bridgerton."

He looked down at you, feeling a fondness so fierce he felt the prickling of tears in his eyes. He cleared his throat, wanting desperately to end this chapter of your lives on a good note. He grabbed your hands and stood you up so you were facing him. He could barely stand the sight of your tear-stained face, beautiful as ever despite your reddened eyes. A few quiet moments passed between you, both of you attempting to regain composure, but the pain of losing the other made it entirely impossible. 

He was still holding on to your hands, thumbs rubbing softly up and down in the way he had always done. But this time, they did not bring you comfort. Instead, you burst into tears, closing the short distance between you and sobbing into his chest, not caring that your tears might ruin his clothes. To be loved was to be changed, after all, and God did you love him.

Wrapping his arms tightly around you as you sobbed, Benedict was at a loss. He couldn't fathom what life would be like after you, barely remembering what it had been before you. To willingly walk away from this, from you in his arms, from your shared intimacy, from the unbreakable bond the two of you had formed over two decades... he had to be insane. Yet he had no choice, as the past few weeks had shown. All Ben could do was rub a comforting hand on your back as you cried, murmuring sweet nothings in an effort to alleviate the excruciating pain he knew you were feeling as well. 

Finally, he spoke. "I'm going to miss you more, Y/N. And I'm so sorry. I never wanted it to end like this. I never wanted it to end at all, actually." 

Feeling another kiss at the top of your head, you lifted your head to look him in the eyes. You were no longer sobbing, just sniffling as tears ran down your face. "Me neither," you choked out, eyes still on him. You wanted to take in as much of him as you could before he left. You wanted his face burned into your mind forever, leaving a permanent mark you could never get rid of. 

As you sniffled again, you felt him pull you into his chest, hearing him say softly, "It's going to be alright, darling." He placed a tender kiss on your forehead, pulling you back again to look you in the eyes. He then followed a delicate trail, pressing soft kisses between your furrowed brows, on the tip of your nose, and along the tear-streaked canvas of your cheeks. Then, hesitantly, he reached your lips. 

His eyes were intense, heavy with emotion, as you felt his lips hovering above yours. You had never been kissed before, but you would so easily forgo social norms if he just closed the distance between you. You were inches apart, breath intermingling, eyes boring into each other. You could feel the palpable electricity between you, a mix of fear and familiarity. In that suspended moment, your heart beating with his, anticipation hung thick in the air. You were about to cross a precipice of intimacy you never had before, finally acting on the pressure that had been building for years. You wanted him so badly, and you could tell he wanted you, too. At least right now. Desire was running through you in a way it never had before, and you wondered whether the sort of itch you were feeling right now was the same one Ben talked about when he explained the night of the marriage. Is this the itch that would be scratched? You understood what he meant now, needing him so desperately to touch his lips to yours, to bring you the relief you sought in him. Benedict moved a fraction of an inch closer to you, and you drew your breath in anticipation, lips forming into a smile. 

Yet suddenly, Benedict groaned and abruptly withdrew as if an unseen force compelled him to sever the burgeoning connection. Pushing you away in more senses than one, he roughly rubbed his face with his hands. You could tell he was in a state of complete panic. Hurt and confused, you watched him rub his eyes frustratedly, refusing to meet your gaze.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so sorry," he stammered, a haunted look in his eyes betraying the fear of losing all the meticulously constructed defenses he had placed between you. "I don't know what came over me. That was so not right. I just—" His words stumbled, a confession hanging unspoken in the charged air between you.

You couldn't stop yourself from flinching, understanding the implications of his words. You supposed it should never have been like this. The two of you were best friends, after all. But you were desperate for him to look at you and give away some of what he was thinking, needing any sort of reassurance, so you reached out, softly gripping his bicep. "It's alright, Ben. I know you didn't—"

But he cut you off, his head shaking in fervent denial, avoiding your pleading eyes. "No, it's not. I'm sorry. Look, I should go; I still need to finish packing. But I'll come by early tomorrow morning to say goodbye if you're awake."

Without granting you a lingering look, he turned away, leaving you alone in the garden where you had played together as children, where your friendship had once blossomed. Tears ran unobstructed down your cheeks, and your heart broke cleanly in two. 

---

You found yourself promenading alongside Mr Henri Deschamps in Hyde Park once again, politely nodding every time he looked to you for reassurance that his talk about hunting was not, in fact, the most boring thing you had ever heard in your life. And it wasn't, but you were inclined to think that it was pretty close. Nevertheless, you liked Mr Deschamps more than most other suitors, enjoying the philosophical debates the two of you would sometimes engage in. 

Henri was from France but had come to England with his younger sister to see her married off last season. Although he was successful in this endeavor, he liked England so much that he chose to stay and find a wife for himself. Still, you were a tad fearful that Henri would want to return to France when, and if, the two of you were married. He had been courting you for a short time, only a couple of weeks. Still, you were careful in expressing your desire and taking it slow, despite thinking that you would probably end up marrying him if all kept going the same way it was now. 

All things considered, Mr Deschamps was an adequate match for you. He was intellectually stimulating at times, came from a good background to be able to provide for you, and he wasn't bad-looking either. Besides, his accent was fun to listen to even when his words were not. It had been nearly three weeks since Benedict had left for the country, and though you missed him terribly, you were having a much easier time actually thinking of your suitors as potential husbands instead of fun ways to pass time before you spoke to Ben next. 

Hearing Henri mention something related to a book you were currently reading, you perked up, excited. "Actually, I read that—" you started, only to be interrupted by the man at your side. 

"Ah, of course, you read this, you read that. When does it stop, Miss Beaumont? You are always reading something. Men do not want this. We want an obedient wife who will not cause us any more stress than we have in life. We want a wife who will give us heirs quickly and who will listen to what we say," came Mr Deschamps' interjection. You were stunned, frozen in your spot, but he grabbed your arm and continued speaking as he dragged you with him. 

"Men do not want a woman who is smarter than them, Miss Beaumont. How about you stick to your good qualities, oui? You are very beautiful, but no one will ever marry you if you keep discussing books. No one wants to hear about books," he finished, sending you a pointed look.

You could barely believe what you were hearing. "But—," you tried, only to be interrupted by Mr Deschamps once again. 

"But— But— But—," he mocked cruelly. "But nothing, Miss Beaumont. This is the truth, yet you still argue with me. It is the same in France as it is here: women should not argue with men. You would do well to remember that." 

You wrenched your arm out of his grasp, appalled by his egregious behavior. He rolled his eyes at your reaction, turning around and throwing his hands up in the air, clearly exasperated. You angrily stared after him as your mother, who had been walking a few paces behind the two of you, caught up. 

"What in the world was that? I cannot believe he spoke to you in such a disrespectful manner and in front of everyone, at that," she exclaimed, fuming. Clearly, she had heard at least some of your conversation. You could only shake your head in disbelief, still reeling from Henri's sudden outburst. He had effectively squashed your hopes of ever finding an appropriate husband in under three minutes. It would have been impressive if it didn't leave you so hopeless.

---

Far from the hubbub of the city, Benedict lay in his messy bed, staring at the now-empty spot beside him, illuminated by the moonlight filtering through his half-open curtains. With ever-deepening bags under his eyes and a dwindling excitement about life, he grappled with a reality he never thought he would confront. The echoes of your shared dreams from your youthful days mocked him, a poignant reminder of a time when marriage felt like a distant concept.

This had become somewhat of a routine by now. Benedict had taken to finding solace in the arms of various women, seeking momentary distraction from the ache in his heart. With each encounter, it became glaringly evident that physical intimacy offered no relief from the unending yearning he felt for you and your friendship, forever changed by his choices. 

Loneliness enveloped him each time the women left, a feeling he had become all too familiar with in the past few weeks. He barely slept, opting instead to imagine your life back in the city, full of exciting balls and surrounded by the warmth of your family. And his, he supposed. But most of all, he couldn't help the painful thoughts of you with another man, discussing your favorite books, or forming inside jokes with one another. 

He was comforted only by the fact that he had not yet received a wedding invitation. Surely Benedict would have been invited to the momentous occasion had you finally found someone to spend forever with. However, the comfort he felt from this was significantly overshadowed by the implications of your inevitable wedding. One last goodbye. A proper goodbye, this time. Here, in the countryside, he could theoretically return to you anytime. But once you were married, you would be gone forever, and the wanting he felt now would only multiply, consuming him entirely. 

In the quiet hours before dawn, he often wondered if the past could be revisited, a past where the two of you made plans to get married. The idea of a marriage where he was free to pursue his artistic endeavors and you continued your literary pursuits lingered in his thoughts every single night. It seemed that he was only interested in marriage if it was an arrangement similar to the one you had dreamt up as children, and the chances of attaining that were slim to none. Benedict found himself yearning for a simplicity that had been lost in the complexities of adulthood. With you married off, he would have to find a wife eventually. But perhaps he did not want to marry at all. Maybe he would stay a bachelor, making vows to his art rather than a woman he knew could never compare to you. 

For now, he continued his escapades. In the long run, he was not confident that this would help him forget you or forget the fierce love you inspired in him, but he was desperate for any way to stop thinking about you, if only for a few hours. So he indulged, going to raucous gatherings, mainly populated by artists. People used their canvases at these parties as a means of liberation, but he only used them to mask his true feelings. He could momentarily quiet his mind, painting and dancing and drinking before he eventually came crashing down to reality. 

—

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Tag List (lmk if you want to be added!): @bellahadidnt16 @like-gabriel-and-castiel @riverraingrayworld

[chihoshisai]

Guitarist Ace

Ace x Reader

Part 1

cw : self-sabotaging Ace, drinking, established relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, cursing, Ace needs serious therapy // wc : 3.8K // I'm really loving toxic guitarist Ace to the point i'm planning on writing more of him ♡

tagging : @littleleelee @taylor4taytay @seillarium @acpola01

A Drowned Temper Part 2

Ace wasn’t sure when he blacked out. But when he did wake up, the harsh colors of sunset were creeping all around his apartment. Irritating every cell in his body as he winced while the feeling of consciousness regained him. His brain thumped in his head. His eyes burned. Everything seemed to feel too bright or too noisy. And worst of all, the wretched heated sensation that started to make its way up from his stomach to clog at his throat, before getting released once his head had found the toilet bowl. God, he just wished for every part of his body to stop throwing a tantrum and behave so he could get ready to go on about his business. 

Right, now that his emotional probation day had passed, now that he had drunk away his feelings, it was time for things to get real again. The routine — head to his part-time job, go to the studio to practice and maybe hit the bar with his friends. Practice being the highlight until the time they settled for dripped away. Which was a mere two to three hours. As for food? A mere afterthought. Whenever he had time to grab a bite or two in between transit from one place to another. Things were too hectic for him to slow down. 

In all honesty, with the way his body felt, almost like it was mutilated, Ace did not have enough willpower to think about you. Nor about the things he had said that had driven you to exit his apartment with a rainfall of tears staining your features. Right now, all he could do was dissociate. Put his brain on autopilot, and do the things he usually did when he wasn’t completely wasted. 

The truth was that he feared to take a step back, to consider and analyze things, and that in turn he would come to realize the ugly truth behind his reality. That he needed help. But why ask or seek for it when dreams and opportunities are right around the corner? Why sacrifice lifelong efforts just because you’re having a hard time? Ace was the type to suck it up, letting it explode inside of him rather than coming to terms with his weaknesses. Even if one of them was you. He owed you not one, but many apologies for his shitty behavior. And even if he wasn’t ready to properly own up to it, what with refusing to change and treat himself better, then he’d make up for it with what he did best. Music. Signing, flowers, soft yellow fairy lights mixed with an astonishingly sweet and romantic candlelight homemade diner. The perfect combo that he would accompany with pleading eyes as the cherry on top.  

Yet again, you weren’t the priority right now. Finding pain relievers was. 

Ace busied himself through a disheveled morning routine — a quick shower, the first clothes he saw and the usual skipping of breakfast as the finishing touch. He would make it up to you eventually. He truly would. But only after the storm that raged inside him and between the two of you yesterday had passed. After all, you were his brightest light of hope and inspiration.  

Eventually he made it outside, grunting under the sunlight that discomforted his still present hungover. He survived work, as easy going as it was by working in an instrument shop and using his expertise to guide the clients that wandered in. Work was a breeze of fresh air for Ace. A way to connect and be in constant proximity with his interest while also not being too demanding. And let's not forget the discount, a blessing for not only him but also to his members, providing a comfortable cushion for the otherwise rigid budget spent on instruments and tech. Surprisingly, the pay was good and for some reasons the tips he received were even greater. It was a given that he was attractive, even if he never considered himself that way, but Ace preferred to believe that his sales skills were the cause rather than suspecting his appearance.  

With the relief that work had brought on the sensitive body of Ace, late afternoon had managed to come by and announce the end of his shift. As such, he bid farewell to his coworkers and headed to the studio, his feet's dragging along the sidewalk with the nearing of his demanding reality. He sighed, sliding his hands in his pocket, thinking how positive he had to be for the infinite time in front of his band. It was so so fucking exhausting. If not for his believing in his skills and worth, along with his member's, he would've screwed the whole thing a long time ago. Most probably spiraling in the unknown reality that would've welcomed him like a cold shower. Hanging in there was hard. But giving up and trying to pick things up again after some time, with the past possibly repeating itself like chains pulling you down, seemed even harder. Scarier in fact. 

Therefore Ace readjusted the guitar case on his back, feeling it heavier than usual as it was the reminder of his journey, clenched his jaw and instead thought ahead for which way to uplift his friend's mood. 

The studio in which they regularly performed was situated upstairs with the first floor being for dancing, giving off a cool air with its black walls while also looking quite elegant with leather couches in the lobby. Ace arrived with a yawn that quickly got replaced by his customer service smile upon greeting the manager and a slight bow once learning that the price had been paid and the others were already inside. 

However, the true colors that etched at his heart quickly clawed their way to his face once his back had been turned to the lobby's counter. And it was with a scowl that Ace led his feet amidst the corridor, recognizing each door with the inhabitant it housed as a potential threat before stopping in front of one. The only threat behind it being himself. At least once he had stepped in. And his members also. If we forget the other bands and the industry, the greatest obstacle an artist could face was inevitably themselves. 

With those last thought echoing in his mind like a warning to give his all for the upcoming three hours, Ace's lungs found themselves rising before emptying themselves of all the inhaled air and consequently providing a counterfeit comfort to his nerves, before a firm hand opened the door to allowed the muffled voices and instrument symphony to pass through the forged smile that stretched Ace’s lips. 

There it was again.

The subtle stolen glances of worries. The averting gazes when confronted by eye contact. The pretending to appear busy by fiddling with the instrument. The compassionate smiles.

Ace did not ask for any of it. And because their concern was genuine, he turned a blind eye to it all as there were more pressing issues at hand than nitpicking his bandmate's expressions. 

With his positive facial features, he closed the door behind him and let a greeting that had been polished for such situations slide from his dry throat. “Hi, it's good to see you guys are always so early!”

“And you're right on time,” the bass member Marco pointed out nonchalantly. 

The drummer Yamato, who until now sat on his chair, rose with a smile. “To be honest, I was starting to wonder where you were, but now that you're here I'm relieved.”    

“Sorry, got a busy day at work,” Ace laughed through his lie, depositing his instrument case agaisn't the wall to take out the guitar. 

Truth be told, it was quite rare for Ace to arrive remotely at the appointed time, but with the rough evening he's had with you, let's just say that things had hit harder than usual. His feelings. His tears. His anger. His frustration. His increased alcohol intake. His black out. No wonder coming here almost felt like a chore, especially when he was aware that you knew the band's practice schedule. 

“Is your girlfriend not coming over tonight?” The pianist Izo asked, his serious expression piercing through Ace's mask.

His smile twitched at it's corner, but by placing the guitar around his body and keeping his gaze on the strings while tuning them, it was enough to appear unbothered despite the complex hurricane that bit his insides. “I don't know, she didn't tell me anything.” His heartbeat raced in anxiety by placing the blame on your silence.

After making sure that the guitar had been plugged in the amplifier, Marco went on to change the mood that started to appear like a morning fog. “Alright then, since we're all here let's get started.” 

“Let's play loud enough for everyone outside to hear,” Yamato cheered.

“You're overestimating the sound proofness of these walls,” Izo pointed out with arched eyebrows.

“Who cares, we have to be able to make our music reach the people standing at the far end of the audience after all,” Ace grinned, taking his usual position in the center, turning his neck with a nod to give Yamato the signal.

Three drumstick click traveled through the room, before the harmony of different instruments went on to echo through the walls. Ace, who despite all things considered had been waiting for this moment allowed his voice to be carried by the melodic notes. His sense of loss and failure, mixed with the complications of relationships seeped through his pore by his every breath. Record companies be damned. Auditions be damned. And fuck romance for being so damn difficult. So damn demanding. 

Even if he loved you.

In that single moment all that mattered was the polishing of their skills. Until the exhilaration of the practice came to an end, the heated up muscles relaxed, puffed breaths came to be heard and the intensity that once seized the room came to be blown away by the silence of instruments. Their time was up.  

“Good job y'all, tonight was a good one!” Ace praised in between breaths, turning to face his band with a proud smile now that his passion has been fueled. Looking at them and the sweat that dripped from their skin was enough to remind him of his faith in them, as well as how he could keep on doing this vice cycle over and over again. 

If he wasn't broken, he could keep going. If his fingers still moved, he could keep playing. If his voice wasn't gone, he could keep signing. If his heart was still ablaze, he could keep the band living. 

With everyone busying themselves with packing up, Marco took that opportunity to slide himself beside Ace. “You probably shouldn't tag along with us after this. Go and get some rest,” he hushed in a whisper.

Offended by the words, Ace's lips thinned in a line, “what makes you say that?”

“Just some concern for our leader, you know,” he placed a hand on Ace's shoulder, squeezing it in compassion. “I'll handle stuff here so get some rest at home, okay?”   

Deep down, granting himself a distraction through the evening merry of eating and drinking with his friends was what Ace desired the most. It would in turn cloud his return home, with an unfocused mind that would cease to think of the difficult stuff and lull him to sleep proficiently. But going home sober meant facing a reality he had yet to swallow. A reality that had been postponed by his hangover. And with his mind finally free from the haze, he would undoubtedly think of you. Of the vile speech he gave you all while standing in the cold night veil of his apartment. Alone. Clear headed. In silence. More than anything, he dreaded the direction his thoughts would take towards himself in the solitary confinement of his head.

“What are you guys whispering about,” Yamato asked with furrowed eyebrows. The drums belonged to the studio, meaning that he only had his sticks to pack. 

Bending to pick up his guitar case before putting it on his back, brushing away the hand simultaneously, Ace gave an innocent smile. “It's nothing,” he spared no look towards Marco, knowing full well he failed to answer his question. 

“Then let's go eat already,” Yamato chirped, wrapping an arm around Ace's shoulders.

“About that,” Marco began, forcing both to look in his direction, along with Izo who had just finished packing his piano and turned to join the conversation, “Ace won't be able to join us tonight. He's quite tired you see.”

The nonchalant attitude almost made Ace burst out in anger. But his mind knew that the words were spoken out of worry for him, and therefore used that knowledge to lock in the emotions alongside the thousands of others ones who had met the same fate, preventing them from seeing the light. Instead, his lips pursed in a weary way while he nodded.   

“Is that so. Then get some rest,” Yamato voiced with a nod accompanied by an encouraging smile and a fist bump on Ace's shoulder.

“Get home safe,” Izo added in turn.

The words forced to come out of his throat with an unsuspicious tone while anxiety dreaded in the pit of his stomach unnerved Ace. “Yeah, I'll see you guys tomorrow.” He forced a smile to crack on his features before silently following the group outside and parting ways with a wave of hands.  

As his body neared home, every muscle dragging Ace in an aching manner made him aware of the truth. He was physically tired. Thankfully that wasn't a lie. But that didn't guarantee that the exhaustion would travel to his brain and shift him to sleep like alcohol would. Once the habit was settled, there was no getting out of it quick and easy. As such, with the brisk night air pricking his skin, his thoughts, while reenacting the events of practice, made Ace take a mental note to pick up more of the bittersweet substance after dropping off his guitar at home. The last memories of your times together were still too fresh for him to analyze them radically. 

Having finally reached the floor of his apartment, Ace momentarily froze.

Shit. 

He considered turning back. Pretending he saw nothing. Maybe even crash at one of his brother's place under the excuse that it has been a while since they met. Even crazier, go back to the orphanage in which he grew. Anywhere. Anywhere would do.

But he had spent too long considering his options because your eyes turned to fix him with a blank look. Running away now would only add oil to the fire. However his heart could not permit him to fumble twice in less than 24 hours. But it was far too soon for you to show up. Far too soon for the shrouding feelings that swelled inside Ace to have cooled down. 

His brain hurled profanities, while his legs headed towards the door in a slower way, his face trying to remain calm as he eyed you crouching by his door. Meanwhile his mind was completely panicking. Trying to pinpoint the reason behind your presence. Almost choking him by entertaining the thought that a breakup would follow. God this was awful. A bitter taste settled in his throat while time stretched into eternity. 

As the distance closed, Ace watched you stand up, your body language bare from any sort of emotions when his feet stopped inches away from you. The fire of yesterday shouldn't have extinguished in you yet. Maybe you were here to pick a fight in turn. What a poor consolation these reflections were. He remained silent, unsure of the correct approach to take and hoped you would voice your reason for being here. 

“You're back early today. Did you skip the after practice hangout?” You asked with genuine curiosity. 

Ace couldn't bring himself to meet your eyes. “Yeah well, things happen.” He shrugged. Frankly it annoyed him — that you were making small talk after deciding to show up unprompted and how he wasn't ready to deal with you just yet. He had never expected you to come for him when it should have been the other way around and now he wished you'd get to the point before his temper got the best of him again. 

“Is it okay for me to come inside?” You pointed a finger towards the door.

“Of course,” Ace brought out the keys from his pocket, tinkering them inside the lock. Best have a talk inside than out for the whole world to hear. Plus with you inside, it would overwrite the self isolating scenario that would've happened otherwise. 

An increase of heartbeat found itself ringing in Ace's chest. While he deposited the keys. While he put down his guitar. While he ran a hand through his hair. While he sat down on the couch. While he watched you stubbornly stand across the room, refusing to sit. Everything made him and his poor heart uneasy. Terrified. Palms sweating. Eyes unable to do nothing but fixate on the ground.  

The reality was that he should have given you an apology the moment he saw you. Begged for forgiveness even. It might have been enough to salvage the situation. It might have prevented this thick tension from staining the air of his home. And because he hadn't spared you a single thought throughout the day, he wasn't ready. Now with his skin growing hot with the passage of time, he sat awaiting for your judgment to come.

“What's wrong?” Your words, softly spoken, carried over while you eyed Ace.

“What?” His eyebrows furrowed, and finally after getting inside he looked at you. 

“I'm asking you what's wrong,” you began. But as the confusion remained you further added, “you were right to say that I can't understand all you're dealing with since I'm no artist. But I think there's more here than simple frustration over a rejection. Speak to me not as a musician but as a person.”

Ace parted his lips as if to say something, but quickly shut them. It felt too anticlimactic. And he wasn't going to jump on the opportunity to make amends without addressing the elephant in the room. “Do you have nothing to say about yesterday?” His gaze found the floor again in guilt.

You sighed. “Not particularly. I just came at the wrong time,” you admitted. Truth be told, your entire being had grown soft towards Ace, almost like a sponge that would absorb all of his ugly and release it through your personal methods for the sake of your sanity. You loved him enough to make a sacrifice. The tears. The pain. The misery. All were temporary. But the happiness. The laughter. The warmth. It was enough to overwrite the bad and fuel your down bad passion for this man. Even while being aware that the whole thing felt like the thorns of a rose.

“Don't give me that crap,” Ace raised his tone in annoyance. “I owe you an apology,” he mumbled sourly, clenching his now intertwined fingers, unable to face you still.

“And you think you can give one in this state?” You asked with an arched eyebrow. 

God did Ace hate being sober.

“But if you want to talk about yesterday then fine. Why did you say those words to me? Why did you push me away? Why did you treat me that way?!” Your voice grew in melancholy with each sentence bringing back the ache of another day.

Ace racked his hair once more with a hand, according occasional glances at you. Your tone ripped at his heart even though he was the one that brought forth the conversation. “Because I was drunk,” he whispered in shame, cheeks reddening in self awareness.

“What?” You scoffed, baffled.

“Because I was drunk okay!” he raised his voice along accusatory eyes in your direction at the sound of your bewilderment before regretting it through a sigh. “Look I'm sorry.” He said in a softer tone.  

You crossed your arms, “that's just your excuse!”

“Then what do you want me to say?!” Ace's voice threatened to reach the roof. To him, this was his reason. His truth. And to see you blatantly deny it proved quite painful. Almost unfair.

“Alcohol is a bridge between your pent up emotions and your mind. So I want you to be honest with me,” you paced the room, closing the distance that fermented the argument.

With you standing so close, Ace found his sight robbed of the ground and instead directed an annoyed look to your face. “What the fuck are you talking about?!” Truly he had no idea. All he wished was for you to accept his apology and move on. But now that you were the one who ambushed him, holding the reins of the conversation it made the struggle quite difficult. It unsettled his mind, leaving him feeling vulnerable. Being sober didn't help either.

“I'll ask you again. What's wrong?” One of your hands, ignoring his temper, slowly went on to stroke Ace's cheek, exchanging warmth as a reminder of the affection that existed between you two, before parting ways while your eyes egged him to answer. Yesterday had made you realize how deep Ace had fallen. How far gone he was. How unaware he remained. Therefore you weren't about to allow him to slip further without trying to catch him. Even if it meant drowning with him. 

Blaming him would be too cruel.

Blaming the alcohol would be too immature.  

Ace took in a deep breath, having calmed down at your touch. “I don't know. I can't understand what is happening to me,” his lips trembled, “so how can I explain it to you when I can't rationalize it for myself,” his voice cracked while his nose sniffled. The burning sensation that scratched at his eyes mixed with the prickle of his throat made Ace take notice of his first words of truth. How he had laid bare a reality he ignored for far too long. Rather than making him feel relieved however, it made his muscles tense, his heart palpitate in an uneasy fashion and his mind to grow apprehensive towards the future. A part of him wanted to blame you for bringing forth this side of him. However, his thoughts were far too agitated to fight back against your ruling of the conversation.     

“That's okay,” you wrapped your arms around his neck in an embrace, pulling him close until his head nestled in your stomach while he remained sitting. “That's all I wanted to hear. You did well telling me that,” your hand stroked his hair in an affectionate way, “let's figure things out together from now on, okay?” 

Ace nodded while raising his arm to circle you in turn. “I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry,” he whimpered.

“I forgive you.” 

[ozzgin]

Can I request a yandere Katsumi who has the hots for his first and only female student?

It feels a little bit like presenting a dish before Gordon Ramsay on Hell’s Kitchen or something, but as you wish ma’am. Let us hope I don’t make a donkey out of myself.

Yandere! Katsumi Orochi x Student! Reader

Featuring the karate prodigy and a female reader that’s impressed him beyond just fighting skills.

[Baki Masterlist]

It’s not a given for everyone, but some people just seem to be gifted for a particular vocation, inclined towards a certain calling. While Katsumi is widely envied for his quick learning and masterful karate prowess, the one place where he shines most, where his skill is unequivocally unmatched, is in the dojo. Specifically before students. One can easily tell him apart, even among names of greater authority such as Doppo Orochi. Pupils naturally flock to him, you included.

Your case, however, is a little bit of an exception. Out of random circumstance you happen to be the only female student at the Shinshinkai Dojo. Truth be told, Katsumi had opposed your membership at first. He takes pride in his neutral approach and equal treatment when it comes to his pupils. So when the men started to whisper, snicker and whistle secretly behind your back, he could only grit his teeth in shame and frustration. He would’ve liked to scold them, tell them that this is a sacred place dedicated only to martial arts and other temptations are to be kept strictly out. But he, too, found you attractive. He would’ve been lying to everyone, including himself. Hereby the conflict: accepting you as a student would’ve been tainted by impure thoughts, but denying to train you would’ve stripped him of his dignity as a teacher. He promised to fix his inappropriate attitude instead; after all, discipline is part of the art.

All that being said, he doesn’t regret his decision. You’re awfully talented and often remind him of his own karate journey. You only need the slightest push in order to grasp most techniques and you’ve gone above and beyond his expectations in conquering the basics. The veiled, flirty glances from the other fighters have been replaced by somber, respectful nods as your reputation continues to increase with each rank. Katsumi would go as far as calling you a true prodigy. Admiration aside, only one small issue remains: not only has his initial crush remained with stubborn vehemence, but it appears to have turned into full blown, sickening infatuation. To put it mildly, he’s obsessed.

Is he really to blame here? It’s as if everything about you has been carefully chiseled to his liking. “Then the Lord God made a woman from the rib he had taken out of the man, and he brought her to the man. The man said, ‘This is now bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called ‘woman’, for she was taken out of man.’” You are the Eve to his Adam, a genesis of love that was fated to return to him. There is no other explanation. Indeed, the more he tries to rationalize it, the clearer his purpose becomes. Out of all the places, the timelines, the people, the fact that against all millions of variables your encounter settled on him…His desire is not to be disciplined. Not anymore. One has to acknowledge the ridiculousness of battling destiny itself.

Then he shall no longer tamper with matters that are predestined. In fact, he might just lend fate a helping hand. His patience is reserved for teaching, not romantic affairs. He needs an opportunity to have you alone without interruptions, and conveniently enough you’ve asked him to stay behind today. You can barely conceal your cheeky smile as you slide the canvas door open. As promised, Katsumi is standing near the wall, hands folded behind his back. You can feel your heart pounding, but you muster up the courage to approach him. You’ve been training hard and he’s had nothing but praise for you. A nervous blush tints your face as you bat your eyelashes, calculating your next words. Katsumi’s eyes narrow in adoration. It’s alright, he knows. “How may I help you, (Y/N)?” He nudges you expectantly. “I’ve been wondering about it…I was afraid of your response, but I need to let it out nonetheless. I think I’m ready for the next step.” Oh God, here it comes. He can barely contain himself. Just say the words, and he’ll take you right here and now. “I know it hasn’t been that long, but I really think I’m ready for the upcoming competition. Is there truly no way for me to sign up, even with my current belt?”

Huh. His mouth hangs open for longer than he would’ve preferred. Is this…is this why you’ve called him here? He looks around the room, as if expecting some cameramen to pop out and announce it was all a prank and (Y/N) actually meant to confess her unwavering attraction to him. Your smile slowly fades seeing his increasingly frantic expression. He grunts. “I’m sorry, if you think I’m not ready yet I can-“ He lifts a hand to your face and firmly grabs your jaw. Shut up, please. He walks over to the door, pulling you after him, and hastily checks the hallway for people. It’s empty. With the other free hand he slams the door shut. The dojo will remain closed until morning at least. Plenty of time to set you straight. It’s fine, he’s calm. Oh, you silly, sweet darling (Y/N). He loves this innocent obliviousness of yours. There are other important matters at hand. You try to remove his fingers from your face, but Katsumi’s arm is tense and stiff, refusing to budge. You’re suddenly very cold. His gaze is different and it scares you. You don’t recognize the possessed, hollow eyes that pierce into you. But here’s where you’re mistaken, they’re not hollow at all. On the contrary, they’re overflowing with adoration and worship. You just haven’t realized it yet.