#every day is a blessing every day is a gift (gritted teeth)

[fooltomery]

girl u ok?

trying to be boss

[ghostchems]

infernal - terzo x f!reader - part seven

and now... a flashback chapter

art by the always amazing @piaart

author’s note: i feel like shit but it helped me finish this up. plenty of terzo pain here meanwhile reader is home, blissfully unaware. i also have no idea if my writing is good at this point but here ya go! part one/two/three/four/five/six. ao3 link.

If you could see the wreck I am these days, you’d have new reasons to stay away. Just hold my hand for a little while —

Misery never goes out of style.

Terzo traces a delicate finger along one of the bags under his eyes, no longer concealed by the dark eye paint he once wore. His brows furrow at the sight of himself in the mirror. The wrinkles have deepened since he left the stage. His hair, now less lustrous, betrays gray strands emerging from his roots and sideburns. All those years spent cultivating his image, trying to become the perfect imperfection that Lucifer himself boasted—only to unravel after one fateful show. He grits his teeth, his mismatched eyes sharpening in his reflection.

With all the glitz stripped away, he loathes how much he now resembles his father…

Terzo forces the thought out of his head. His days are spent analyzing his time as Papa and what went wrong. He wouldn’t do anything differently but it still stung, especially after the new heights and exposure he had achieved for the Ministry. Somehow, it was not enough. His father was never proud of him, a theme that stretched throughout his entire life. Terzo was only ever the Third to him, the third son that would serve his purpose and then be pushed aside for whoever was next. While this had been the typical progression, Terzo was the fool who thought he would be different — even after being warned by Secondo.

Secondo.

“Cazzo.”

He’s late for Uno Night.

The once-revered Emeritus brothers now find themselves relegated to a desolate corner of the abbey with their only entertainment being a silly card game. Their influence wanes with each passing day. Terzo can't help but sneer at the irony of their situation - former leaders now barely more than forgotten relics, with only each other’s company. There was a time when the Emeritus brothers were revered as gods among men. Crowds would surge forward at their concerts, desperate to touch the hem of their robes or catch a glimpse of their painted faces. Devotees would line up for hours, sometimes days, just for the chance to receive a blessing or a fleeting moment of attention. Their every word was treated as gospel, their gestures analyzed and imitated by legions of faithful followers.

In the halls of the Ministry, their presence commanded instant respect and adoration. Ghouls and Siblings of Sin alike would bow their heads in reverence as they passed. Their chambers were filled with lavish gifts from admirers - exotic incense, priceless artifacts, and fervent love letters. The very air seemed to crackle with power and dark allure whenever they entered a room. Now, that electric atmosphere has faded to a dull static. The gifts have stopped coming, the adoring crowds have moved on to newer, shinier idols. The once-mighty Emeritus brothers find themselves grasping at the fading light of their former glory, clinging to memories of a time when they were worshipped as the embodiments of their infernal master.

He used to delicately paint his face for each meeting, a ritual of devotion to himself and his roll as Papa. But now, as he stares at his bare face, he feels a bitter resentment towards the being he once revered. The paint feels like a mask of lies, concealing the growing doubts and anger festering within him. Lucifer's promises of power and glory now ring hollow in his ears, leaving only the taste of ash and disappointment. Terzo exhales through his nose and tears himself away from the mirror, satisfied with his appearance but frustrated with the progression of his thoughts. He had grown more disillusioned by the day with the cause he so passionately promoted, the being he worshipped. Lucifer, once his guiding light, now seemed like a cruel puppeteer, manipulating him for some cosmic joke.

Omega did not like these thoughts. In fact, Terzo has begun avoiding him and instead has been seeking the company of his brothers. Perhaps the one silver lining in all of this is that he is closer than he ever has been with his true family, minus daddy dearest, of course. They had grown up together, with Primo practically raising him and Secondo after they had come to the ministry. Back then he was a true zealot - a satanic lunatic whose fervor for the dark arts knew no bounds. It was from him that Terzo learned the intricacies of their infernal faith, absorbing every ritual and incantation with wide-eyed fascination. Yet, somehow, both Terzo and Secondo emerged less fanatical than their older brother.

But still competitors, nonetheless. Secondo and Terzo had been born to different mothers three months apart so it came naturally. The more time spent together now, the more they realize how similar they can be and deep down, Terzo wishes they had not been so combative. It was encouraged, though, fed and grown by the higher ups in the ministry and their father. Maybe they feared they would be too powerful if they were close.

Now all they care about is Uno.

"Fuck!" Terzo exclaims again, his voice tinged with frustration as he runs a hand tiredly over his face. The weight of his thoughts bears down on him, but he knows he can't afford to dwell any longer. With a deep sigh, he forces himself into action, slipping his feet into his shoes - the familiar spats clicking as he gets them on. Just as he reaches for the door handle, a sharp knock echoes through the room. Terzo pauses, his hand hovering in mid-air. Irritation flashes across his face.

"Enter," he calls out, his voice tinged with impatience.

The door creaks open, revealing a young Sibling of Sin. Their face is pale, eyes wide with fear and urgency. Terzo's irritation gives way to curiosity as he takes in their disheveled appearance.

"What is it?" he asks, his tone softening slightly.

The Sibling swallows hard before speaking, their voice trembling. "Papa, I... I have news. It's about Omega."

Terzo's eyebrows furrow. "Omega? What about him?" He nonchalantly goes back to adjusting his outfit, wondering if this is another plot from the ghoul to try and make him listen to “reason”. He certainly has stooped rather low, almost as low as Terzo.

The Sibling takes a deep breath, as if steeling themselves for what they're about to say. "He's been banished, Papa. Omega has been cast out of the Ministry."

The words hit Terzo like a physical blow. He stumbles back a step, his mind reeling. "Banished?" he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. "But... how? Why?" Pain is etched across his face.

The Sibling shakes their head, clearly as confused and shaken as Terzo. "I don't know the details, Papa. It happened so suddenly. They're saying it came from the highest levels of the Ministry."

Terzo's mind races, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. Shock, confusion, and a sudden, unexpected pang of loss all vie for dominance. Despite their recent disagreements, Omega had been a constant in his life for so long. The thought of him being gone, cast out... it's almost inconceivable.

Terzo's composure shatters as the weight of the news crashes over him. His eyes flash with unbridled fury, causing the Sibling to take an involuntary step back. "Get out!" he roars, his voice reverberating off the walls. "Leave me! Now!" The Sibling, wide-eyed with fear, scrambles to obey, nearly tripping over their own feet in their haste to escape. Terzo slams the door with such force that the entire room seems to shake, the sound echoing through the corridors like a thunderclap.

As soon as the barrier between him and the outside world is secure, everything crumbles. A primal roar of anguish and frustration tears from his throat, echoing off the walls of his private chambers. In a whirlwind of unbridled emotion, he lashes out at his surroundings. His fist connects with the ornate mirror adorning his vanity, the impact sending a spider web of cracks across its surface before it shatters completely. Shards of glass rain down, glittering in the dim light like fallen stars.

But Terzo's rage demands more destruction. He overturns his meticulously organized desk, unleashing an avalanche of papers, pens, and trinkets onto the floor. Books, once neatly arranged on shelves, are torn free and flung across the room, their pages fluttering like disoriented birds. His wardrobe—a carefully curated collection of robes and suits that once symbolized his power and prestige—falls victim to his fury next. Garments are ripped from hangers and strewn about haphazardly, silk and velvet mingling with the debris below. Spotting one of his Papal robes, an early prototype, he seizes it and tears, splitting seams and fabric into pieces with savage force.

He could kill them. End the reign of his father and Sister Imperator with a knife to their throats, a hammer to their heads. He’s capable and he’s angry.

But that’s not who Terzo is.

His appetite for destruction is as swift as it is thorough. When the storm of his anger finally subsides, Terzo finds himself standing amidst the wreckage of his once-immaculate quarters. His chest heaves with each ragged breath, his knuckles having bloodied his gloves from his outburst. The room, previously a testament to his refined tastes and exalted position, now lies in utter ruin around him. He closes his eyes, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath as the full weight of what has transpired begins to settle upon him.

The dust settles around him, both literally and figuratively, as his mind wanders to Omega. Their relationship, once the core of his existence within the Ministry, had deteriorated over the past several months, transforming into a strained and tenuous connection. The rift between them had widened, growing into a seemingly unbridgeable gap that threatened to swallow everything they shared whole. Omega, ever faithful of their infernal master, had persistently begged Terzo to embrace what he perceived as a well-deserved retirement—a supposed reward bestowed upon them by Lucifer himself for their years of unwavering service and dedication.

"Papa, you've more than earned this rest," Omega would implore, his eyes blazing with sheer intensity behind his cool mask that Terzo found increasingly difficult to look at. "Our Dark Lord Lucifer, in his infinite wisdom, has granted you this period of rest and reflection. Why do you persist in resisting? Can you not see the honor in this gift he has bestowed upon you?"

But for Terzo, the notion of settling into a life of idle luxury felt suffocating—a gilded cage that threatened to strip away everything he had fought so hard to achieve. The very thought of turning his back on the empire he had painstakingly built, nurtured, and expanded over the years felt like a betrayal of who he is and what defines him. As time wore on, his arguments with Omega grew increasingly heated and frequent, his frustration mounting with each tense exchange, threatening to boil over into hostility.

"You call this rest, Omega?" Terzo would retort, his voice rising with each impassioned word, hands gesticulating wildly to emphasize his point. "This isn't rest—it's nothing short of exile, a banishment from everything I've ever known and loved! How can you, of all people, expect me to sit idly by, content to watch as everything I've dedicated my life to—my very existence—crumbles around me like dust?" The air between them would crackle with tension during these confrontations, an electric charge that made it increasingly difficult for them to occupy the same space without the risk of conflict erupting at any moment.

Now, with the shocking news of Omega's sudden and unexpected banishment reverberating through the chambers of his mind, Terzo finds himself consumed with emotion. Relief, guilt, anger, and a profound sense of loss intertwine in a dizzying dance, each vying for dominance in the turbulent landscape of his mind. Despite their recent differences and the ever-widening divide between them, Omega had been a constant, unwavering presence in Terzo's life for longer than he cared to remember—a touchstone of familiarity. His abrupt absence leaves a gaping void in the fabric of Terzo's existence, a wound so deep and raw that he isn't certain he possesses the means to heal it.

Even with the turmoil raging inside him, Terzo finds himself drawn to the familiar comfort of his brothers' company. With a heavy sigh, he straightens his posture and smooths down his attire, a reflexive gesture from years of public appearances. He may be struggling, but he'll be damned if he lets it show—at least not to them. They have all had their hardships. If anyone knows and understands what he is feeling right now, it is his brothers. Terzo’s steps are heavy, using his feet to clear a path forward amidst everything now on the floor. He reaches the door, hesitating for just a moment. There’s a weight pressing down on him that threatens to crush him, to break him down until there’s nothing left.

He won’t let it.

Terzo opens the door and leaves his room. As he makes his way towards the small room where their Uno nights are held, his mind goes blank, going numb to the intense feelings that are simmering beneath the surface. He trudges down the dimly lit corridor, his footsteps echoing off the ancient stone walls, focusing on that sound to keep him grounded. As he rounds a corner, lost in the maelstrom of his thoughts, a familiar voice catches his attention, causing him to halt abruptly.

Turning, he sees Cardinal Copia emerging from his office, a stack of papers tucked under one arm and an Uno card inexplicably held between two fingers of his free hand. The Cardinal's painted face breaks into a warm smile as he spots Terzo, oblivious to the storm brewing within the former Papa.

"Ah, Papa, on your way to Uno Night, yes?” The cheerful greeting hangs in the air, a stark contrast to the darkness swirling within Terzo.

Terzo's entire body tenses, his jaw clenching so tightly he can hear his teeth grind. The sight of him, so content and oblivious to the turmoil raging through the Ministry, ignites a fire in Terzo's chest—one that he had hoped was extinguished following his outburst in his room. His eyes narrow as he regards Copia with barely contained irritation. "Uno Night," he repeats, his voice low and controlled, though tension radiates from every syllable. "Mmm… yes." He takes a step closer to Copia, his presence suddenly looming and intimidating.

Copia's smile falters slightly, but he presses on, still oblivious and sweet. "It's become quite the tradition with your brothers, hasn't it?" He hesitates for a moment, then reaches into his sleeve and pulls out a blue reverse card. He holds it out to Terzo, a tentative peace offering. "Here, Papa. I always keep this one for luck. Perhaps... perhaps you'd like to have it for tonight's game?"

Terzo's gaze sharpens dangerously as he struggles to maintain his composure. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest, fingers digging into his biceps. The sight of that blue card in Copia's hand—a symbol of the carefree life he now leads—causes the fire to spread inside him, consuming him yet again. Terzo’s voice, when he finally speaks, is low and menacing, barely above a whisper.

"Tradition?" His voice is guttural and rough. "You dare speak to me of tradition when everything is crumbling around us? When the very foundations of our world are ripped away from us?" His words are full of anguish and rage, each one striking Copia like a physical blow.

The Cardinal stumbles back, his expression morphing from confusion to outright fear. "P-Papa, I... I don't understand-" he stammers, his voice trembling.

"Of course you don't understand!" Terzo cuts him off, his composure shattering completely. "You're nothing but a pawn, a naive fool dancing to their twisted tune!" He gestures wildly, his movements sharp and erratic. "Do you have any idea what's happening beyond your little bubble of blissful ignorance? Omega is gone! Banished! Cast out like yesterday's trash! And here you stand, grinning like a fool, oblivious to the chaos swirling around you!"

Copia's eyes widen in shock, the full weight of Terzo's words finally sinking in. "Omega? But how- Why-" he begins, but Terzo is far from finished.

Terzo snatches the blue Uno card from Copia's hand, gripping it so hard it begins to crumble in his grip. "And this?" he spits, brandishing it like damning evidence. "You think this changes anything? You think a game can fix what's broken? This card, this... this mockery of what we once were!" His voice rises to a near-scream. "Do you have any idea what this represents? It's not just a game, you fool! It's everything we've lost, everything that's been taken from us!"

With a primal yell that seems to shake the very stones of the corridor, Terzo tears the card to shreds. The pieces flutter between them like confetti, a mockery of celebration in this moment of utter despair. Copia flinches, raising his hands as if to shield himself from the physical manifestation of Terzo's rage.

"P-Papa, please," Copia stammers, his voice barely above a whisper, a plea for understanding, for mercy. "I didn't mean to-"

But Terzo is beyond reason, beyond mercy. His voice drops to a low, dangerous hiss, each word dripping with venom. "Get out of my sight," he commands, his tone brooking no argument. "You don't belong here. You never will. You're nothing but a pale imitation, a cheap replacement for something you could never hope to understand. And take your pathetic games with you!"

As Copia retreats, practically running down the corridor, Terzo stands amidst the scattered remains of the card. His chest heaves with each ragged breath, anger and grief warring within him. In the sudden silence, the weight of his actions begins to settle upon him. He knows, in some distant corner of his mind, that he's overreacted, that Copia isn't truly to blame for the chaos engulfing their world. But in this moment, all he can feel is the crushing weight of loss - of his position, of Omega, of everything he once held dear. And that damned Uno card, now in pieces at his feet, seems to mock him with its cheerful blue color, a stark contrast to the darkness consuming his soul.

If only he could reverse being removed from the Papacy.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Terzo straightens his posture and adjusts his shirt in an attempt to calm himself. He struggles to push down the turmoil within, determined not to let his brothers see his inner struggle. As he approaches the card room, he steels himself, forcing his face into a mask of nonchalance.

Opening the door, he finds his brothers already seated. An almost startling wave of relief washes over him. He allows a scoff to escape his lips at the sight of Primo, face fully painted and wearing a Burberry scarf. Before he can comment, Secondo interjects.

"Already gave him trouble for it, stronzino. If you'd been on time, you could've joined." There's a glint of mischief in Secondo's eyes.

Terzo rolls his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite his best efforts to maintain his aloof facade. He saunters over to the table, pulling up a chair with dramatic flair. "Well, shall we begin? I'm feeling particularly lucky tonight." He shoots a pointed look at Secondo, silently accepting the challenge in his brother's gaze.

He settles into his seat and the feeling of relief continues to spread through him. Here, surrounded by his brothers and the familiar rhythm of an extremely low-stakes card game, he can momentarily push aside his anger and frustration. In this room, he's not the fallen Papa or a disappointment to the Ministry - he's simply Terzo, the youngest of the Emeritus brothers, ready to lose himself in the game and forget, if only for a while, how far he has fallen.

On this particular evening, Sister Imperator and Papa Nihil would make an unexpected appearance, delivering news that would leave the brothers startled and confused.

They would be unable to continue their card game.

Terzo is deep in his desk chair, his body nearly slipped from it onto the floor. His gaze is locked on the the hell phone which has been ringing nonstop since you left for the night. Your taste is still on his tongue, your scent clinging to his robe. He’s afraid to move to disturb the haze he’s settled into, even though you would be back bright and early for work the morning after next. Fingers fall to his temples, rubbing them with each piercing ring of the phone.

He wouldn’t answer. He doesn’t want to face who is on the other line.

Was it Omega? What could he possibly say? He would only complicate matters—as he already has. The hell phone materialized before you, and you listened to the sounds of the abyss. It drove you into Terzo's arms and bed, but... you didn't deserve to experience such terrors or feel so frightened in his home. Or at least, if anyone was going to frighten you it should be him. His fingers drum along the arms of the chair, a deep grumble vibrating from his chest. The goal is to get you to stay, to devote yourself to him and only him. Yet the fear gnaws at him. What if the terrors you've witnessed push you away? The thought of losing you to the very darkness he once revered sends a chill through him. He wants you by his side, but you have to want to be there. Perhaps, he muses bitterly, this is another of Lucifer's cruel jokes—dangling happiness before him, only to threaten it with the very forces he once embraced.

Maybe the imp who fixed your tire that Terzo had shredded was calling. What was that all about? He didn’t have time to mull that incident over earlier while you were here. Is he manifesting things?

The memory of when he had accidentally shocked you resurfaces, Terzo's frown deepens. He recalls the pain on your face when he zapped your wrist. His gaze drifts to his hands, studying them as if they belong to a stranger. These hands that once commanded crowds, that channeled unholy energies with precision and purpose, now feel like unpredictable weapons. He clenches his fists, feeling the familiar tingle of power just beneath his skin. What if he hurts you again?

Another memory flits to the forefront of his mind — when he screamed at you over his relics being displayed causing a lightbulb to shatter. He remembers the fear in your eyes as it happened. It wasn't Lucifer's doing—it was his own power, his own lack of control. The realization hits him like a punch to the gut. Perhaps the true threat to your happiness, to any chance of a future together, isn't some external force or cosmic joke. It's him.

The silver lining is that you had seemed to be… into it. But what if next time, it's worse than a small shock or a broken bulb?

The thought sends a wave of despair crashing over him. Is he doomed to be alone, forever isolated by the very gifts that once made him special? The irony isn't lost on him—he who once reveled in his dark powers, who used them to seduce and enthrall, now fears them as the very thing that might drive you away. Terzo slumps further in his chair. The illusion of his perfection continues to fade but he’s stubborn. Unwilling to change his ways even though he knows he can be cruel and difficult.

He originally expected you to just deal with it.

Terzo rises with a frustrated growl, letting the hell phone continue its incessant ringing. He stalks over to his liquor cabinet, hands trembling slightly as he pours himself a generous measure of whiskey. What have you done to him? How dare you make him want to be better? He decides he must, at the very least, attempt to protect you from whatever hell seemingly has in store for you. This includes tempering his emotions, an obvious factor of his otherworldly abilities. Seriously, how dare you?

Taking a long swig, he savors the burn as it slides down his throat. It's a familiar comfort, one that does little to reduce the budding anxiety he feels. With a heavy sigh, he turns his back on the still-ringing phone and retreats to his bedroom, drink in hand. The door closes behind him, muffling the sound of the hell phone but he can still feel its presence. Terzo takes another sip, hoping to drink himself into unconsciousness.

Only two sleeps until he sees you again.

[starlightshadowsworld]

Tw child abuse

Concept: Atsushi doesn’t leave the Orphanage unscathed (combined with my headcanon that Atsushi’s weakness is fire.)

The Headmasters ire was never not aimed at Atsushi. But on that final day it felt demonic. He ran but two other staff members held him in place.

Through every punch.

Every kick to his frail broken body.

Atsushi thinks he passed out when the hot poker seared his flesh. But all he can recall from that were the sound of his own own screams.

Just as Atsushi thought he was going to die he was tossed out into the freezing night.

He was no stranger to the cold. To the pain that had become his only companion in life. But this was unbearable. Yet he gritted his teeth and crawled away from the closed gates.

His clothes were shredded from age and being torn apart into makeshift bandages. Atsushi didn’t really know how to tend to wounds, especially burns as severe as these.

It’s not like he’d ever been worth wasting medical supplies over.

Hunger was another old friend that joined him on the way. It probably sounded weird that Atsushi was grateful for it. It kept his mind off the scars that scattered across his body.

How they burned no matter how cold he was.

The tiger popped around days later and Atsushi wondered if being eaten would hurt any less.

Atsushi wasn’t really paying attention to the bandaged man’s…Dazai’s words. The cold water felt like both a blessing a curse. He contemplated jumping back in. But the evenings chill would get him if he tried.

Dazai frowned, noticing something amiss but figured it was simply Atsushi’s hunger. And yet that unease didn’t fade once Atsushi had eaten more then a few bowls of chazuke.

The relief at being full was quickly overtaken by the pain. Because now it was front and centre in Atsushi’s mind. He wasn’t listening to Dazai and Kunikida, not really.

He got up to leave and cried out when Kunikida lifted him up. For the action caused his charred shirt to rise up and rub against the burns on his stomach.

Kunikida let him go, concern flashing in his eyes as he wordlessly turned to his partner. Checking that Dazai had seen it too, which he had now.

The little bit of damage they’d manage to see was horrific. The fact Atsushi wasn’t on the ground crying in agony told them, along with the holes in his story that he was gifted.

Because no average person could survive such wounds.

Dazai jumped as the tiger leaped at him. Nullifying the ability but not before making a mental note of the patches of damaged fur.

He caught Atsushi and gently laid him on the ground. Just as Kunikida walked in closely followed by Yosano. Atsushi awoke soon enough, taking the new information about as well as one could.

And then… “Atsushi, are you hurt?” Atsushi not so subtly shrank back at the question. “It’s fine” came the immediate response.

Yosano gave Dazai and Kunikida a look and without a word both got up and left. Standing out by the door just incase.

“You’re not in any trouble.” The disbelief on his face made her both mad and sad. She’d seen to many with such an expression and it never got easier.

From the brief talk with Kunikida she could tell was Atsushi a person that assumed everything was his fault. It was probably why he got hurt to begin with. As some sort of twisted punishment.

She couldn’t wait to show those people something truly twisted.

“You don’t have to tell me. I just want to make sure that you’re okay.” The honesty might’ve been why Atsushi hesitantly rolled up his shirt. Yosano didn’t let her anger show and instead focused on inspect the wounds after gaining Atsushi’s consent.

Her touch was feather light and he slowly began to explain how he got such injuries to begin with. “You didn’t deserve any of that” she hoped one day he’d believe her. For now Yosano was just relieved he’d let her treat his wounds.

Without her gift that is which she wasn’t surprised by but accepted. Atsushi had suffered enough anyway.

Yosano did what she could. Kunikida used his ability to conjure up any equipment she didn’t have on hand. While Dazai sat by Atsushi’s side and regaled him in the most ridiculous tales as he laid in their infirmary.

Atsushi should’ve been admitted to the hospital but with the bounty there was no chance of that happening. He was afraid but he seemed to have done trust in them. Which after all he’d been through was a miracle in enough itself.

His burns were severe and he’d developed a fever but Atsushi would heal. It would take a lot of work, regular check ups and salves but slowly but surely he would heal. Hopefully it wouldn’t just be his injuries.

“So he’s joining us right?” Asked Yosano, stepping out to the main office. It was only the three of them here at this hour. “Yup” said Dazai and though Kunikida looked sceptical he nodded.

“Alright, but we’ll have to post pone the entrance exam and we’ll need to ensure his health is a priority during his time with us” and on Kunikuda rambled because he’d already grown fond over Atsushi.

The other two teased Kunikida as they made a scheduleso that someone would be with Atsushi throughout the night. Checking up on him and making very elaborate revenge plots against his orphanage.

Atsushi was one of theres they just needed to make it official.

[slightlyunconventional]

told you i was writing a fic B) this took me #hours but i do not regret it. so here have three and a half thousand words worth of k/az and his miserable cold-ridden self !

careful care (in which k/az b/rekker has like the worst cold ever and i/nej cares for him as much as he'll let her)

Kaz didn’t think it was possible to have a personal vendetta against a celestial body, however the shaft of sunlight prying his eyes open seemed determined to prove him wrong. Despite this, the grasps of sleep tried their damnedest to drag him back down into their depths, however his dozy state was quickly eradicated by a sharp tickle in his nose. He found himself muffling a pair of sneezes clumsily into the soft fabric of his duvet.

“-hehH’tTSHhiew! huh’shHHiew!”

The double was followed by a series of shaky coughs directed loosely into his raised fist. This was not about to be a good day. With a groan, Kaz hauled himself out of bed, reluctant to abandon the warmth of his sheets. He grimaced at the spasms of pain that shot up his bad leg as put pressure on it standing up - it always hurt first thing in the morning, but the pain was much more pronounced today. Decidedly ignoring the pain, Kaz began getting dressed. He pulled on a crisp white shirt, black trousers, and fastened a deep maroon tie around his neck, his every move punctuated by increasingly wet sniffles. He swiped up his cane from where it leaned against his bedside table and made his way to the desk to consult his watch - eleven bells. He’d slept in. Panic jolted through him as he realised how long he’d been asleep and very much vulnerable for, hell, any miserable wretch could have done anything to him and he wouldn’t have known. He tried to shake the thought from his head. Kaz coughed sharply again, displeased at the scratch it left behind in his throat. He headed out of the room, across the corridor and into the bathroom, where he slipped off his gloves and set them down beside the sink, before turning on the faucet and splashing water onto his face. As he attempted to tame the pillow-induced mess that was his hair, Kaz noted the pallor taken on by his face, and elected to ignore it, even more so the way it made the pink hue of his nose stand out painfully. He sighed and dried his hands, then his face. Almost immediately, he found himself needing to sneeze again. His only option was to catch them in the towel, so he braced it tighter against his face.

“heh-heHH’sSHHhuuh! -tTSHHh!”

Clicking his tongue in disgust, Kaz slipped his gloves back on, and made his way downstairs.

Kaz descended the creaky stairs of the Slat, gritting his teeth against the twinge his knee gave with every step. He reached the bottom, paused to let his leg rest for even the briefest moment, and rounded the corner into the living room - a room not particularly comfortable or cosy, but enough for the five of them to spend quiet mornings or evenings playing cards games at the table. Wylan, Jesper, and Nina were sitting on the worn sofa, talking animatedly about something Kaz didn’t care to listen in on, for his nose was burning ferociously again. He took a step back, almost backing out of the door, and twisted himself around so he was facing away from the room, and announced his presence with a rather heavy sneeze into his elbow.

“HhuH’dDJSHHhuuh!”

A chorus of “bless you”s sounds from around the room, along with a snarky “Took you long enough,” from Jesper. Kaz nodded in acknowledgement of the blessings, and ignored Jesper’s comment. Inej appeared from the kitchen and approached Kaz. She handed him a steaming mug (one of a set of five gifted to the group by Inej, having each of their initials on it - this one was black with the letter ‘K’ painted in gold) of coffee.

“I made you this as soon as I heard you wake up. Everything okay?”

Kaz took the mug from her. “Thank you,” he said quietly, “I was just tired last night, I think.”

Inej’s eyes narrowed slightly as she regarded him. As though calling himself out for lying, Kaz turned quickly to the side with a sharp set of coughs which shook his chest. He could see the concern growing in Inej’s face, by the shine of her brown eyes and the furrow forming between her dark brows. “Maybe tea would have been better,” she observed, “but I know how much you hate being coddled, so just take care of yourself, alright?”

The taller man nodded stiffly as Inej returned to Jesper, Wylan, and Nina’s lively conversation. Kaz sighed and sat in his chair, allowing himself to relax a little as he listened to them talk - something about a fight in the bar the previous night. He hoped he wouldn’t have to deal with the aftermath of that. He sipped his coffee, throat half soothed by the drink’s warmth, half irritated further by the bitter taste. The steam wafting up from the mug made his nose threaten to start running, so he pawed at it absently with a gloved knuckle. The faint beginnings of a tickle began to bloom somewhere high, deep, behind the bridge of his nose. He continued rubbing at his nose to try and alleviate the sensation. However, his scrubbing made the tickle quickly worse, barely giving him a chance to think before he was sneezing again.

“-hh-haAHh’sSCHhuh! heh’sSHHhew! H-haahh…” He lifted his head gingerly from his elbow, only to find himself almost straight away gasping deeply as another sneeze made its presence known. “haAH’kKSHHhuuh!”

Kaz sniffled thickly as he received another round of blessings. Everyone except Inej resumed their animated conversation, who kept her eyes trained on Kaz. Kaz knew full well that he’d come down with a cold - and a viciously sneezy one, at that - but he wasn’t willing to admit it to himself, though he was fairly certain that Inej knew about it, somehow. She always did. The smaller girl shifted her chair closer to his, and she produced a box of tissues from under the coffee table, where it was always kept. Kaz looked down at it with supreme displeasure, then back at Inej with the same look. He sniffled a couple of times, thoroughly tempted by the tissues Inej was offering him. Instead of taking them, though, like any sensible person would, he sighed, stood up, and left the room. Kaz caught a faint, “What’s his problem?” from Nina as he turned to go back upstairs.

He swayed slightly on the first few steps, his head hot and fuzzy from standing up so quickly, but forced himself to regain balance, determinedly dismissing the screaming pain radiating from his leg. Finally, Kaz reached his office. He regretted stationing himself at the top of the building more than he cared to quantify. Not even a second after slumping down in his chair was Kaz building up to sneeze yet again. He didn’t much fancy the idea of sneezing into his shirt sleeve again, so he fought desperately against his hitching breaths and prickling nostrils while rummaging frantically through his desk drawers for a handkerchief. His hands shook gradually more and more as the need to sneeze doubled, tripled, quadrupled- then his fingers closed around what he was looking for: a neat square of burgundy fabric patterned faintly with an intricate floral design. Just to his luck, he sneezed, wet and harsh, just before the handkerchief reached his face.

“-hhuUHh’GKKTSHHhuh!” The explosion left a fine mist hanging upon the air in front of him. “Saindts,” he said, appalled at himself, then even further repulsed by the dense congestion in his voice. Annoyed, Kaz sniffed thickly, only to find that his whole head, particularly his sinuses, felt as though it's been packed tightly with cotton wool. Now in the privacy of his own office, he slipped off his gloves, lay back in his chair and huffs, dragging a finger under his nose, rather annoyed by how full it felt. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a cold as awful as this one, and Saints, it progressed fast. He recalled feeling perfectly fine the night before, maybe a sniffle here and there, but nothing more. Now he felt like someone was pinching his nose shut so he couldn’t breathe out of it, forcing him to swallow razor blades, and repeatedly kicking him in the side of the head. He was miserable. With another sigh, Kaz leaned forward and put his head in his hands, balls of his palms pressed firmly onto his eyes, forcefully willing away the headache he knew was well on its way. As if the agony in his head wasn’t enough, the itch in his nose reignited. Kaz lifted his head in annoyance and snatched the red handkerchief back up, just in time for-

“HehH’gkKTSCHHhiiew!” A very wet sneeze, so much so that he had to pinch the handkerchief over his face to wipe the mess from his face as he pulled away from it. “Ugh,” he breathed, grimacing in disgust. Kaz ran a hand through his hair, letting out an annoyed breath. He felt he ought to do something productive, even though he could hardly breathe through his nose and his head was pricking with the ominous threat of a migraine. Returning back to his desk drawers, Kaz produced a binder of paperwork and made a reluctant start on it.

He couldn’t put his heart into it, and his hand nearly refused to keep the pen in its grip, but he managed a fair stack of papers over the next hour, albeit an hour of abundant sniffles and scattered with rattling coughs. By the time he gave up trying to work, his head was pounding deeply, his throat was as raw as anything, and his nose felt stickier with congestion than ever. He thought he’d escaped the sneezing, but much to his dismay, he was hitching again with a ferocious prickle in his nostrils.

“haAHh’kKZSHHhuh! -aAH’KTSCHH-huh!” Two harsh sneezes, aimed lazily into a half-heartedly lifted arm (though most of it is directed into the open air to his side). His breath snagged again immediately after the double, but nothing happened. Kaz felt his brows draw closer together. He was stuck in a torturous, tickly limbo. He lifted his arm closer to his face, as though to coax the sneeze he so desperately needed with a comfortable landing spot - to no avail. In desperation, he shifted his blurry, watery gaze up to the light fixture on the ceiling. The itch climaxed and Kaz gasped deeply. Inej entered the room, pushing the door open in her usual quiet manner. Kaz sneezed, loud and grating.

“HaAHh’kKZZSCHHhuuh! Fucking…” Before he could say anything to Inej, he was dragged into a fit of tearing coughs, each of which feeling like knives against his already sore throat.

“Saints, bless you, Kaz,” said Inej, “That’s one hell of a cold you’ve got there.” Kaz looked up, about to ask how she knew about him being sick, but stopped himself. She always knew.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” he said to her, the rasp in his voice amplified tenfold, “I can’t get you sick.”

Inej smiled reassuringly. “You won’t get me sick. Just let me help you, okay?” Kaz hesitated, reluctant to accept her care. At last, he gave her a single, stiff nod. “I’ll fix you some tea, first off. It’ll help with that throat.” Inej disappeared from the room and down the stairs.

-

Inej headed downstairs and into the kitchen, where she put some water on to boil and got out the ingredients for one of her mother’s tea recipes, one meant to ease congestion and relax an inflamed throat - perfect for Kaz, she thought. While Inej waited for the water to boil, Nina came in.

“What’s up with Brekker, then?” she asked. Inej shook her head, almost in exasperation.

“He’s got a dreadful cold. Sneezing and coughing all over the place,” replied Inej. Nina tilted her head with sympathy.

“Bless him. Want me to see to him? I can probably help him out,” Nina offered, gesturing vaguely with her hands to indicate her Heartrender power. Inej shook her head.

“Thank you, but he’s reluctant to even let me in there with him.” Inej leaned against the counter. “He’s tiring, sometimes, Kaz,” she said with a sigh. Nina snorted.

“You can say that again.”

Inej smiled at her as the water finished boiling. “I’d better get to making his tea,” she said.

“Best hope he doesn’t die drinking something that isn’t pitch-black coffee, eh?” teased Nina, “Good luck with him. Let me know if you need any help, sweet.”

Inej nodded as Nina left the room with a little wave. She sighed again and began preparing the tea, a soothing floral blend with a teaspoon of honey stirred in. Inej picked up the mug and made her way back upstairs, careful not to spill any on her way up. She wondered why Kaz insisted on having his office on the top floor, what with his cane and everything.

When she reached Kaz’s room, she tapped on the door, then pushed it open slowly when she received no reply. Inej was met with a sight she didn’t expect - Kaz Brekker, asleep at his desk, head resting upon his folded arms. She’d hardly been downstairs ten minutes and he’d already fallen asleep. He must really not be feeling good, she thought with worry. Kaz’s breathing was soft, though slightly laboured due to congestion. Inej set the mug down on the desk beside him and returned to the door, unhooking his high-collared great-coat from the peg on the back of it. She draped it over his sleeping form, tucking it snugly around his shoulders. Then, she picked up a pen and a scrap of paper from the desk and wrote a note in her tidy handwriting - “Sorry if the tea is cold, I didn’t want to wake you. Feel better soon.” She signed off the note with a tiny love heart and placed it next to the mug. There wasn’t much else Inej could do, so she decided to head back downstairs. As she reached the bottom, she saw Nina again who cast her a puzzled glance.

“Asleep,” said Inej. Nina mouthed “Ah,” then offered her arm to Inej who gratefully looped her own arm through Nina’s.

“We’re playing blackjack in here, if you want to join us. It’s a bit… chaotic, though. Jesper doesn’t seem to know how to count to twenty-one.” Inej giggled at that, and allowed Nina to lead her into the living room.

The four of them played cards for a couple of hours, and Inej let her worries about Kaz ease during their rowdy games. Nina was right - Jesper kept insisting that seven and nine summed to twenty-one, despite Wylan repeatedly telling him that that actually makes sixteen. He also kept having to be reminded that an ace card doubles as both one and eleven, due to his uproar when Nina supposedly won with a ten and an ace. “But that only makes eleven!” he’d shouted amidst Inej’s giddy peals of laughter and Nina’s whoops of victory. After they finished what felt like their hundredth game, Inej lay back in her seat, face aching from grinning and her heart sufficiently full. Jesper and Nina announced that they were going to make dinner together (definitely a bad combination in the kitchen) and took off through the door. As they left, Wylan and Inej heard a sneeze echo through the Slat’s walls. Being two stories above them, the sound was muffled, but it was still evident that it was loud and harsh. They exchanged concerned glances. Inej sighed.

“He’s awake. I’d better go and check on him,” she said. Wylan nodded, muttering something about making sure the building doesn’t burn down, before hurrying off to the kitchen. Inej headed for the stairs, picking up the pace as another sneeze reverberated from above her. When she reached Kaz’s room, he was standing up, a hand braced against his desk to keep himself upright. He exploded into a fit of wracking coughs, the outburst topped off with a third wrenching sneeze.

“h-huuhh…heh-ehHH’ZZSCHHhiew!” He looked doubly exhausted afterwards. His nose was a brilliant shade of red by this point, and his eyes possessed a distinct glassy quality that wasn’t nearly as evident two hours prior.

“Kaz,” Inej said quietly.

“I’m- I’m okay,” said Kaz, voice hoarse from all the coughs and sneezes tearing up his throat.

“Kaz,” she repeated, voice still gentle but firmer than before. He sighed, shoulders sagging.

“Inej, I’m- I don’t-” He closed his eyes, sighed again, and continued, “‘m cold, head hurts, and I keep… keep-” His breath caught, “-s-sdeezihH-!” The tail end of his sentence was lifted by the need to sneeze, and he did so, into his elbow.

“h-haAHh’zZSHHhew! Ohh…” The sneeze conveyed perfectly the sheer exhaustion in Kaz’s bones to Inej.

“Saints’ blessings,” she said, head tilted in sympathy, “You really ought to get some sleep. Though, have you eaten today?”

Kaz paused, then shook his head hesitantly. “Oh, Kaz,” Inej said softly. She ponders for a moment, “Well, do you feel like eating anything?” He shook his head again, knuckling at his nose with one hand. Clearly, he noticed the way Inej deflated a little at his words, and said, voice thick with miserable congestion, “I cad try to… to eat somethidng.”

Inej smiled. “That’s good enough for me,” she said, “Jesper and Nina are cooking tonight - terrifying, I know -” she added upon seeing Kaz’s expression, “so I can bring you up a plate if you like?”

Kaz shook his head at her. “I haven’t moved from here all day, practically. I thidk my leg would just about give up if I didn’t move myself somewhere,” he said, still sniffling.

“Alright,” Inej replied, “Can I at least get you to blow your nose? You sound awfully stuffed up.”

“Fine,” Kaz said. Inej smiled softly again, and picked up the red handkerchief from his desk. “Ah- that’s, uh,” Kaz started. Inej’s brows lifted in realisation.

“Right,” she said, “I’ll get some tissues.”

-

Dinner went mostly uneventfully. Nobody paid much mind to Kaz’s affliction, for which he was very grateful. He couldn’t find his appetite - something he knew would upset Inej - so he spent most of the time pushing food around his plate with a fork, sniffling thickly all the while. Inej cast him a few sideways glances that he determinedly ignored. He’d already let his guard down enough. The congestion was still heavy in his head, forcing him to breathe through his mouth, which irritated his inflamed throat more than Kaz thought was even possible. That meant he had to force back a number of coughing fits throughout the meal. He found himself thoroughly distracted, and dare he say bored, while the others talked around him, though even if he wanted to, it wasn’t like he’d actually be able to get a word in edgeways. He was beginning to zone out, when suddenly, his nose began burning with an incessant tickle, one so fiery and abundant that there was nothing he could do to stop the oncoming outbursts. He pushed his chair quickly back from the table, chest heaving rapidly. The piercing squeal of the seat against the floor pulled four sets of eyes onto him, but he couldn’t be bothered to care that he was being watched for his nose was too busy practically twitching with need as he ducked desperately into the crook of his arm to muffle a series of sneezes.

“heh-haAH-hHH’KZZSCHHhiew! ‘hKXTSCHhuuh! haAh’gkKSCHH-huh! huUHh’kKXZSCHhew! ‘gGKTSCHHh!” Five sneezes burst from him, each one heavier and messier than the last. Once he was done, his chest was rising and falling in exhausted pants, and it was all he could do to hide his streaming nose behind his gloved hand. The table seemed stunned into silence, and for good reason - not one of them (not even Kaz himself) had ever witnessed him sneeze like that before. Kaz avoided meeting anyone’s gaze. Inej was the first to act, since she had thorough experience with sick Barrel bosses. She tapped his shoulder gently as he attempted to recover from the wrenching fit.

“I think it’s time you got some rest, hey?” she murmured to him. Kaz nodded vaguely, blearily. Inej stood up, then held her arms out as a caution for Kaz while he jerkily hauled himself out of his own chair.

Once they finally reached Kaz’s room, Inej sat him down on his bed.

“I’ll leave you to sort yourself out in a minute - I’m sure you don’t want me stripping you down and tucking you in,” she said with a wink, “How’s that head?”

Kaz lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “Still hurts,” he mumbled tiredly. She nodded.

“I’ll get a glass of water, then. Do you mind if I check you for fever? I’d just have to touch your cheeks and forehead. It’s fine if not, though.” Kaz hesitated, looking wary, but finally he nodded. Inej sat down on the bed next to him and gently pressed the backs of her fingers to Kaz’s face, first to each of his cheeks, and then to his forehead. Throughout the process, she repeated to him, barely a whisper, “I’m here, you’re safe, we’re safe.” Her soft voice threatened to slide his eyes shut. She took her hand from his face.

“You’re a little warm, but it should clear up after you get some sleep.” Kaz nodded, eyes half-lidded as though he was about to drift off where he was sat. He knuckled gently at his nose again, but the touch teased two more sneezes out of him which he just barely caught in exhausted hands.

“heh-hehH’zZSHhiew! huh’tshHHhuh! Mmh…” Inej smiled sympathetically.

“Get yourself changed, okay? I can’t have you falling asleep in a shirt and tie. I’ll fetch that water.”

[just-a-geeky-therapist]

From @yzeltia 's Starlight prompt list: Day 11: I'll be Home for Starlight

"I'll be home for Starlight," Haurchefant had promised, determined to take leave to stay with Brychar for the holiday... "I promise," he said again with a warm smile only Haurche was capable of, warming Brychar's soul despite the chill that had set in from Ul'dah to Ishgard. The funeral was a week before starlight, while the many in Ishgard railed against the strife; enough others decorated the streets and public buildings, bringing a false sense of cheer to the air that grated against Brychar's resolve. As he took the long walk to the church, the place where Haurche had been murdered, he cursed every semblance of joy and festivity, gritting his teeth and clenching his hands in righteous fury... a fury which saw him through the service, Edmont's public breakdown where guilt and regret broke through his stony stoicism, where Artoirel and Emmanellaine leaned against one another for support. How can I go back to that house? he repeated in his head, fear that he could never face that family again resting deep in his soul;* I failed them... I failed him...* tears burned down his face, no distraction, no facade could stop it as his quiet cries grew into sobs, to wails which garnered attention from near everyone else in attendance. Strong arms wrapped around him, holding him tight. For a blessed moment he didn't care whose they were, a fantastical part of his brain imagining them Haurchefant's, yet when he finally blinked through blurred vision, Aymeric sat beside him, cradling his head against his chest. "Shhh..." he shushed soothingly, choking back his own tears... "I've got you," he reassured him...

Nothing remained of him by the time the service had ended... He stood with Haurchefant's family, Estinien and Aymeric, and a few other select individuals who had been close to Haurchefant where they descended into the catacombs. There they laid his body out on a frigid slab of marble; gawdy Brychar winced, knowing that was not how Haurchefant would wish to be remembered. He's going to be cold... he found himself thinking in agony, darkly laughing at himself for thinking it mattered... Once the vault was sealed they made the long journey back to House Fortemps, where Edmont once more broke down as he gifted Brychar Haurchefant's shield, a broken but poignant acknowledgement of forgiveness... Conversation was sparse, the shield tucked against his chest as he solemnly waived over his shoulder as he was once more accosted by the cold, hugging it tighter despite the biting edges of metal as he wandered towards Aymeric's. No words were exchanged between him and Aymeric's steward, no words exchanged with Aymeric who let him be, walking with him to the parlor so prettily decorated. The silent pain of reality closed in on him as he crumpled to the couch, that shield, the demandable shield that had failed him... his only tether to himself and the world... "You lied," he muttered with a gasp, tears stinging his eyes... "you lied... you lied... you lied..." he repeated over and over, energy he didn't have flooding from him... "you lied..." he whispered, head resting against the edge of the shield...

[420thewritersroom]

Warhammer/Horus Heresy Kinktober 2024

Day 6: Imperial Fists/Warp Sex Rituals/Pain Play

Summary: Putting the breeding in Breeding World ;)

Dunno if this would constitute as warp ritual, but it's a ritual all right!

TW: Pain Play, Electricity, Breeding, Pregnancy Kink, Ritual Sex

A wave of electro-shocks traveled throughout Alian's body, gritting in pain as he condemned himself from screaming. To anyone else, the shocks may feel like it lasts for an eternity. Alian counted 5 minutes, a minute longer than the last wave of jolts. Alian slumps forward slightly when the electricity finishes its run with him, letting out labored breaths as he tenses back up against his restraints.

"We are almost done, our savoring Angel; endure for our sake," a voice from the darkness reverberates within the still room. Feminine, soft, and desperate.

Alian takes a moment to breathe, centering himself as he meditates on the way his body jumps from the aftershock, how his heart(s) thump from the adrenaline. His cock stood at attention, leaking pre-cum down the shaft and twitching from the stimulation. The toy inside him vibrated softly; if he listened carefully, he could hear the buzz. Alian opens his eyes lazily, taking in the scene before him. He's unsure why he was specifically chosen for this deranged ritual. All because this planet's population was declining severely, and in hopes of appealing to the Emperor, they hoped to gather his "essence" and impregnate their women. Foolish superstition that he was now wrapped up in.

The room was filled with impenetrable darkness; even the numerous candles and moonlight from the outside struggled to light the overwhelming darkness. His own genetically gifted darkvision couldn't pierce the darkness, save for being able to see a statue of what he can assume to be the Emperor sitting on the Golden Throne, silently watching this ritual take place. Alian can't bring himself to meet the effigy eye to eye, his blood chilling every time he attempts to.

Another wave of shocking energy courses through him, his body tensing at its suddenness, and Alian grits his teeth again. They went on for much longer, 10 minutes this time, and the voltage was higher. His ears rang when the electricity passed. This time, Alian lets out a veiled moan, trying to make it sound more like an annoyed groan than anything. The Imperial Fist scout was barely listening to the chanting in the room, all spoken in a tongue that sounded like High Gothic. However, the words altered that it still sounds like another language.

That was, until the feminine voice is heard again, louder this time and filled with fervent enunciation. "We come to you in our grandest time of need. You have brought your most glorious, trusted Angel to us so that we may be blessed with your seed! You have brought us from the darkness, shown us your light, your Truth! And now, we ask, no, beg, with our souls prostrated to you, our Lord, to save us from our damnation!"

Alian would roll his eyes if he could, but the pulsing strain of his cock had him thinking of how much he wished he could cum. The bald Astartes would have his wish granted as 2 robed figures disrobe themselves, revealing their naked bodies, one female and one male, exposed to the entire congregation as they approach the tied-up Astartes. They place themselves on either side of Alian, and both touch his cock, sending a different jolt of electricity up Alain's spine as he gasps and pulls at his restraints.

"Please forgive us, most perfect Angel. We only need your blessed essence, and you will be set free," the female nervously whispers, not making eye contact with either neither Alian nor his engorged cock.

"We-we'll make this quick, master."

Alian, once again, did not hear their pleas for forgiveness or their petty excuses for kidnapping him. His mind drifts as he centers now back on his cock. The way their tiny hands rub up and down his shaft, their kitten licks on the tip of his leaking cock, the praiseful kisses and suckling on his balls. His brain goes haywire as everything spills out of his ears; Astartes training, his initial mission, his desire to escape, everything. All that remained now was how good he was feeling.

Then, it's interrupted by another electrifying shock. This time, not a wave of jolts that shake his being, but minor, tazer-like shocks that now spark and assault his body. Alian lets out a startled yelp when the first spark graces his skin, aimed towards his left pec. Just as fast as his brain computed the jolting pain, it was quickly replaced by the squeezing feeling of his cock being handled by the two mortals, one of them now rubbing their thumb on his taint, threatening to enter him while they spit-shined his balls.

There was a back and forth, pain being delivered through shocks of electricity while his cock was dutifully serviced, which melted the after-shocking pain away. Alian began whimpering, flushed face looking at the two servants and the still-robed figures that held long tools meant to shock him again.

"Fuck," Alian shivers as the male mortal swallows the head of his cock while the female fondles his swelling balls and plants kisses on his veiny member. "I...I...Stop..." Alian let out hitched breaths as he stilled his hips. He didn't know how to communicate that he was close.

But the pair seemed to get the idea as they pulled away from his cock, just as Alian is given another healthy dose of electricity, the shocking waves making his body and cock lurch in pain.

"He's ready, my lady," the female mortal states, positioning herself above Alian's cock so that she may lower herself onto him, having him pierce her quivering hole.

"Bless us, our savoring Angel, with a child of the Emperor. Fill our wombs with your gift!" The leading woman of this debauch ritual cries out, lifting her arms to the heavens and facing the statue of the Emperor.

Alian lets out a silent moan, face contorted into an O-face, as he feels tightening, fleshly walls encompassing his cock. The female shivers, slowly descending on his cock, but only being able to reasonably sit on him halfway down his shaft. She breathes nervously, finally meeting the Fist eye to eye. Blue eyes meet brown as they both quiver in anticipation. Alian wants to grab hold of her hips, and do what? He doesn't know. But he knows he wants to hold her.

The second she attempted to lift herself up on his dick, Alian felt his balls tense, and he lets out a startled moan. His cock gushes out cum, filling the small woman above him as she stares at Alian in equal pleasurable shock. The Imperial Fists lifts his hips, needing to be within her warmth and wanting to use her pussy to empty every last drop of his semen inside her. The female meets him halfway, steadily lowering herself and humming to herself as she rubs her slowly engorging belly.

"The Emperor has blessed you with plentiful seed, my master," the female smiles.

Alian doesn't hear her, his body buzzing in ecstasy.

Eventually, she becomes too full to continue letting Alian use her as a sperm bank, removing herself and backing away from the restrained Astartes. Robed figures attend to the heavily filled woman, taking a plug device and inserting it into her pussy; ensuring no drop escapes her.

The congregation shouts in reverent joy to the Emperor while Alian is left to steady himself, his cock slowly softening.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here's the Kinktober lists for anyone who wants to partake! Let's be extra horny this lovely October

[why-raven]

character associations — sora.

Tagged by @miqojak. Combined from 5 Things, and Character Features.

emotions & feelings.

anxious. / curious. / earnest. / feisty. / naive.

greetings.

arm-wrestling handshake. / big, hearty grin. / dramatic hand waving. / friendly slap on one’s back. / physically painful hugs (ex. bear hug, tackle hug).

body language.

animated or excitable gestures. / crossed arms or legs. / grimace (either with a frown or with gritted teeth). / hands on hips. / rolling eyes.

clothing.

MSQ/Canon (as WoD) — a-line dresses. / hair bows. / lots of silk. / flat pumps.

Sherlock AU (as Sora Holmes) — frills and laces. / gothic dresses. / over-the-knee boots. / red or black rose motifs.

Sabrina AU (as Sora Spellman) — goth punk style. / miniskirts. / lots of leather. / striped stockings.

colors.

combinations of red, black and white.

objects.

allagan earrings—red. Gift from Yiuno. Crafted from remnants of an Allagan node where she was originally found prior to the Seventh Umbral Calamity.

harmonica, made of hardsilver. Another gift from Yiuno, when she completed her training to become a full-fledged Dancer with Troupe Falsiam.

leather-bound notebook. Used as a diary to record her adventures or anything of interest.

scents.

aroma of hot cocoa.

fragrance of roses and lilies.

smell of freshly baked goods (i.e. pastries and confections).

vices.

bloodthirsty. Despite her cute and innocent appearance, she loves to fight—and she isn’t known to hold back her punches. At all. (“Kill first, talk later. Oops, you’re already dead, anyway!”)

chaotic alignment. Doesn’t like to follow rules; she prefers to do whatever she wants, whenever she feels like it. (She’s fairly docile to Yiuno, though.)

greed. She’s mostly motivated by monetary gains. She believes that she’s forever poor, and she doesn’t like to work for free. (Suspected to be a trait she’s gained from Yiuno, but no one knows for sure.)

innocent to a fault. It’s difficult to tell if she’s really pure like a child, or actually an amoral imp.

aesthetics.

a flower bed in the middle of an abandoned building.

colorful fireworks illuminating the dark sky.

fiery red sky at sunset. / when the sun meets the horizon.

full moon. / eclipses.

pages of sheet music scattering in the wind.

songs.

god knows… — haruhi suzumiya (cv: aya hirano).

I’ll follow you No matter where you are in the darkness of this painful world I’m sure you will shine Beyond the end of the future Don’t break your spirit because of your weakness You will converge my way May god bless us now…

imagination — spyair.

No matter when, no matter who, we want to stand there Even if it’s wrong, even if it’s frustrating, we want to struggle on Never give up, we don’t want to end like this With this imagination in mind, I’ll go on

innocent starter — nana mizuki.

I whisper to you, the one who gave me my “beginning” Of the promise that we made, just the two of us The magic of eternity that never changes Even if our future is captured, even if it vanishes far away I’ll remember your clear voice Call my name And smile like you did that day

troublemaker — arashi.

Wondering about the dreams I’d almost forgotten Searching for the love I’d nearly lost I don’t need your tears anymore Is it too late? There’s nothing wrong with that! Wondering about the existence of rumors That chilled the atmosphere of the city Just smile here to dodge a bluff Isn’t it okay to just take it easy?

weight of the world (english version) — keiichi okabe ft. j’nique nicole.

Still, we’re gonna shout it loud Even if our words seem meaningless It’s like I’m carrying the weight of the world I hope that someway, somehow That I could save every one of us But the truth is that I’m only one girl Maybe if I keep believing my dreams will come to life Come to life

All lyrics translations (except the last one) are by @why-raven. Please credit if use. Do not claim as your own.

[keicordelle]

The Adventures of an Inconvenient Au Ra: BLM

On the Azim Steppe, might made right. It didn't matter overmuch if that might came from muscles or magic, so long as you had the strength to maim or murder the foe in front of you before they did you. And, despite what some would believe, that unwritten law prevailed amongst the Dotharl too.

Alright, well, everybody knew that the Dotharl valued strength at arms above all else. But there seemed to be some sort of assumption that they praised the physical arts at the expense of the magical. Keshet wasn't entirely sure where that idea had come from, when Sadu was at the forefront of their every conflict, immolating opponents with each flick of her staff, but even he had to admit it wasn't an entirely farfetched theory, if you were on the outside looking in. From the inside...

It wasn't that the Dotharl disliked magic or thought it was weak or whatever nonsensical excuse the other tribes had invented for why there were so few Dotharli mages. It was just that there weren't many people born to their tribe with the gift for magic. Surprisingly few, in fact. Concerningly few. No one knew why Nhaama saw fit to only bless a handful of their number with arcane prowess, but it did make identifying the soul of a newborn mage a fairly simple matter. As far as silver linings went, it was decidedly thin. That their mages tended to be of particular devastating power was a bit more heartening. Perhaps the Dusk Mother knew that if more of them were granted such strength, their battles would no longer pose any challenge. In all of the tribe, the Dotharl counted only five mages among their number. Bataar, Khulan, Oktai, Sadu... and Keshet.

For as long as Keshet could remember, the void had called to him. It coiled about his soul and sang through his veins, blessing him with the endless power of darkness like a voidgate housed in his very core. The abyss filled him the way blood filled others, intrinsic and unfathomable. It was what made Keshet Keshet, the thread that had wound itself so tightly about his soul that in every incarnation it bubbled up and spilled out from him. Its power begged to be used, its coiling corruption demanding that he unleash it - or else be consumed by it. Dark flames leapt to his fingertips with nary a thought, voidsent summoned with nothing more than a breath, holes torn through the fabric of reality to annihilate all in his path. The darkness beat beneath his breast like a second pulse, desperate to be set free, and through gritted teeth and iron will, he fought it back, containing and controlling it so it did exactly what he asked and nothing more.

Until the day it didn't.

No. Keshet shook free of the memory before it could take hold, fingers clenching on his staff until the metal creaked beneath his grip. This was not the time to remember his failings, not with the void digging its claw-tipped fingers into his heart. He channelled it, wresting it into a physical shape and letting it pour through him, dark flames of black and red and purple gathering above the Amalj'aa's head. With a vicious roar, he jerked back his staff harshly and the flames exploded, the searing heat washing over him as the Amalj'aa's pained screech died with it.

Swallowing down his sigh of relief, Keshet pressed a hand to his chest, the unbearable pressure that beat within his ribs lessening a touch as he granted the magic the release it sought at last. The gluttonous call of the void still sang through his veins, but it was manageable now - an offering of power for him to take and use as he pleased, rather than the power riding him and demanding he pay for it in blood. His own or others, it never seemed to care overmuch, so long as it was violent and he set the magic free. His adventures were usually enough to keep the void stated, but these damned peace talks had kept him off the battlefield too long.

He hated that feeling, hated the compulsion, like he wasn't in control of his own actions. Fighting should be for its own sake, for the rush of adrenaline that soared through him and the thrill of a hard-won victory, not because some sun-blighted power demanded it of him. He was a Dotharl, Dusk damn it, and he wasn't about to let anything control him, not even the very power that made him who he was. It was the spirit of the Dotharl that burned through his veins and compelled him to fight, not some outside influence. He fought to rejoice in the glory of combat, to lay his life on the line and test himself again ever-stronger enemies, to laugh in the face of death as he seared flesh from bone and laid low all who would oppose him. He was a Dotharl, through and through.

But, thousands of malms away and choking on the rising pressure of the abyss in his chest, he had to admit, he wasn't a very good one. Keshet, void-touched mage and blight of the Dotharl, whose boundless strength was as likely to immolate him as his foes. Nhaama grant him strength.

-

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[dinsbeskar]

LILY

LILY I AM YELLING ONCE AGAIN

I NEARLY THREW MY PHONE SEVERAL TIMES

“Do you truly realise who I am?” Your husband titled his head at your words. “All the stories they have told you about me when you were a child – I am worse than any of them.”

“I am fully aware,” you approached him and held Almárea’s free hand. “And that is why I must go to make sure you do not turn her into a monster like you.”

OOOOOOOHH OK OK OK "'IM A MONSTER Y'KNOW" "I DO KNOW, DON'T MAKE MY CHILD ONE" AHHHHHHH I LOVE THIS

“It was the only moment when I felt that I should, perhaps, abandon my old life and remain in Eregion as Annatar by your side forever,” he confessed.

NOOOOOOO MY HEART IS BROKEN, NOOOOOOO

Ugh I love the idea of him leaving all his evil scheming behind for his love, like in canon I could never see it but I absolutely love it regardless, we love an evil man who even thinks about giving it up for love!!! Goddddd my heart actually hurt after reading this bit

You were barely exchanging any words with your husband and you seemed to avoid each other. However, he was making sure you were not short on anything. Once in a while there was a package waiting for you on your bed. Inside it you would find gifts – books to read or new dresses. And yesterday you had found an embroidery set, which filled your heart with joy.

Shhhhhhhh the gift giving??? Our Lord of Gifts making a cameo appearance?? Absolutely love this!!!

“Is she not with you? Are you not teaching her your craft of treachery and deception like every day?” You asked with a sigh, defeated.

Sauron rolled his eyes but decided not to comment on your remark.

Pffffft nooo the snarking of two divorcees forced to co-parent 😂😂😂

You watched his eyes widen even further in terror and concern. You snorted at that. “What are you? Scared of losing your precious tool?” You asked him with contempt.

That only angered him further as he grabbed your arm and squeezed it so tightly that you were sure there was a bruise forming already.

“Do not ever say that again,” he drawled out through gritted teeth right into your face. “Do not speak of matters you have no idea of.”

Oooooooooh this whole section had me yelling!! What do you mean, Sauron has feelings about anyone but himself?? Actually cares about his offspring?? The one he referred to as "your daughter" when she was born!!! This man!!!

You followed him but in many places the ground was slippery and you needed his support. His hand would grab you each time you stumbled and pull you up.

Oh god no not the support, not the grasping for him as you nearly fall, noooo my heart, you stumble, he reaches for you, I hate it here!!! The unresolved feelings!!!!

“A forge,” she answered. “I miss uncle Celebrimbor’s one and this place makes me feel as if I was back there. Oh, daddy, can you imagine all the beautiful things we could craft here?” She asked with a smile.

Sauron froze for a moment as you watched the scene with a raised eyebrow. He looked around as if he had just realised something brilliant.

“Yes, I can, my darling. And we will,” he assured her. “But please, come to me and mummy now, will you?” He extended his hand even further and she nodded, eagerly.

NOOOOOOOOO SHE GAVE HIM THE IDEA, BABE NOOOOOO, I FUCKING DIED, I ACTUALLY SQUEAKED AND EVERYONE WANTED TO KNOW WHAT I WAS READING, I AM DEAD (absolute perfection!!!)

Your hands acted before you allowed them to and they placed themselves on his arm softly. Your body ached for him and his presence; it was too used to his touch.

He flinched a little and turned his head around to look down at you with a puzzled expression.

“Have a family with me,” Sauron finished the sentence softly and you looked up at him, gently. It was the very first time in a long time when your eyes filled with affection for him again. “I was never keen on the idea of having offspring,” he admitted. “But then you made me realise what a blessing children might be,” he cracked a smile and raised his hand to caress your cheek. “I was terrified of my potential child stealing my powers and overthrowing me but Almárea… Her powers and her mind terrify me in the most exquisite way. Do you know why she is so perfect?” He asked and you shook your head. “Because she is half you. She is half light and half darkness. The perfect balance and what else could possibly heal Middle-earth?”

NOT US WANTING HIM AFTER EVERYTHING, NOT HIM ADMITTING THAT HAVING A CHILD WAS A BLESSING, THE BALANCE??? THE TWO OF YOU CREATED BALANCE!!!

“Come here, my love,” Sauron pulled you closer and wrapped his arms around you. “Oh, how I have missed you, too, my darling. And even though it brought me great pain, I knew I had to wait for you to come to me out of your own free will.”

[...] “But you have become the most dear to me, the most precious,” he confessed and turned you around, making you look at Mount Doom as his hands lowered themselves to your abdomen.

You looked down at his hands resting on your womb. He was still wearing a golden ring on his finger that you had put there on the day of your wedding. And you were still wearing yours because you still loved him despite hating yourself for it. You still wanted to be around him as if he was something addictive that you could not live without. And your womb was still open for more of his offspring.

THE CONFESSIONS OF LOVE, YESSSSSS WE WIN

NOT "PRECIOUS" NOOOOOO 😂 OH MY GOD

For real that first paragraph actually broke me a bit, I love it so much

“Another tool for you to use,” you pointed out.

“Another child for you to love and spoil,” Sauron brushed your hair strand and leaned in to kiss your cheek. “Another thread of love binding us together.”

:)))))) ooof why do I love soft!sauron so much??? a thread of love?? Oh godddd

“You are going to have many,” Sauron spoke as he reached his hand out to caress her hair. “And each of you will get their own kingdom to rule over in my name and their own Ring,” he shared his new plan as a shiver went down your spine. “And all Middle-earth will be healed at once for your mother’s light and my darkness combine like two precious metals; balancing and amplifying everything I could ever be on my own.”

THE BALANCING, THE AMPLIFYING, WE LOVE THE ALLOY METAPHOR, THEY ARE THE RINGS!!!! IM DEAD!!!!

Okay, that was very long but I had a lot of feelings, this was superb, it was such a satisfying conclusion, so beautifully written, I am dead thank you

— BLESSED (III)

PART ONE || PART TWO

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!half-Elf!Reader

SUMMARY — You have no choice but to follow Sauron and your daughter to Mordor because you do not want to abandon her. As time passes, you find yourself being lured by your husband's charm once more as the memories of his cruelty in Eregion begin to fade away.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — And here we are go with the last part! I know I probably write Sauron's relationship with his daughter in a very idealistic way – that in canon he would be most likely way worse. But writing it like that would bring me no joy. 🤷🏻‍♀️ It's a fic for dad!Sauron and I want him to be at least a bit decent while we're at it! 😤

WARNINGS — Reader's father is dead (he was human, so she outlived him), manipulating, gaslighting, toxic and abusive marriage between the Reader and Sauron, Sauron being a very mid dad who manipulates his daughter and teaches her how to be evil like him, child in danger (nothing happens in the end), murder (of the Orcs), Celebrimbor has gone mad-mad, immaculate conception (yes, again!)

WORD COUNT — 4,450

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

BLESSED (III)

Celebrimbor was out of his mind again. Your heart ached for him as you were sitting next to him and caressing his hair softly as if he was a child. He had spent centuries taking care of you and now it was your turn to return the favour. You kept sobbing, feeling angry at yourself that you could not protect him.

Sauron was gone. After finding out where The Rings were, he had left in a hurry, leaving you with a few Orcs that had come to the forge in the meantime. They wanted to plead their allegiance to your husband and the very first task they had been given was to watch over you, your daughter and your uncle. To make sure none of you would escape.

Almárea was not scared of them, which surprised you. In fact, she approached them and kept asking them a million questions as the Orcs were growing a little frustrated with her curiosity. They were, however, answering all her questions patiently. You cracked a smile at that. She was still a child – curious and so full of life.

So full of light, too. You could not let the darkness win within her.

“I shall not allow him to hurt you, uncle. I shall not, I promise,” you kissed Celebrimbor’s forehead and your uncle looked up at you with hazy eyes and a loving smile. “You have endured and suffered so much because of him already. But no more, no more, uncle… Now you must rest.”

“Your daughter…” He mumbled out and you looked down at his face with a sad smile. “Is she not the most precious? She is the exact copy of you, sweet (Y/N). You were a girl like her once, running around this very forge.”

“I remember, uncle,” you sobbed. “I remember it vividly. My father and you working together, my mother still happy and full of life, before she began a lifetime of mourning. I remember…”

You pulled him closer and tried to come up with an idea how to save him. Even if Sauron would not kill him – he had made this promise to Almárea when she had revealed to him Lady Galadriel had been the one to have The Rings now and you wanted to believe he would keep that promise – you still had a feeling your husband would use Celebrimbor somehow or hurt him. 

“Almárea?” You called out for her and she turned around to lay her eyes upon you. You beckoned her over and she nodded at the Orcs before running up to you. “Almárea, do you want uncle Celebrimbor to be safe?”

“Of course, mummy,” your daughter’s eyes widened.

“Can you distract them as I walk him out of here? I will be right back,” you whispered as you pointed at the Orcs with your chin.

“I do not know, mummy… Last time I listened to you, daddy was very angry…” She looked down, nervously.

“Almárea, please. Do you love uncle Celebrimbor?” You asked.

“Yes, of course,” she nodded.

“Then, please…”

“But will you come back to me? Truly?” She lifted up her eyes and looked into yours with a hint of anxiety.

“My darling, always. I shall never abandon you,” you promised, truthfully. Your heart ached at the thought she was not as sure of it as you were.

Eventually, she nodded as she turned around towards the Orcs once more. She ran up to them joyfully and kept asking them questions. When you moved up, dragging Celebrimbor with you, they did not even flinch, which meant that your daughter’s deception was working.

You felt bad for leaving her with them even for a short moment but at this moment it was your uncle who was the most vulnerable and who needed you more. You owed him that, at least.

You walked him out of the forge and hurried to the secret tunnel below the city. The Orcs who had taken over Eregion were feasting now in havoc in the courtyard, which distracted them enough to make it possible for you to lead your uncle safely to the passage.

You walked inside with him and he was following you like a trusting child. In the middle of the passage, you bumped into Herald Elrond. Your heart was in joy to see him and to know that he was safe. He had been some sort of a cousin to you – his father had also been a friend of Celebrimbor and he also was a half-Elf. You had many things in common and you had been close friends in your youth.

“(Y/N), thank the Valar,” he sighed. “Where is your daughter? I was sent here by the High King to make an attempt to rescue you and–” He began.

“I must go back,” you shook your head with your eyes full of tears. “Take uncle Celebrimbor to safety. Heal his mind. Forget about me,” you pleaded and he furrowed his brows.

“What are you talking about?” He asked. “Where is Almárea?”

“Please, Elrond. You must not know,” you insisted before kissing your uncle’s forehead once more and caressing his cheeks to tell him goodbye.

“(Y/N)!” Elrond called out for you when you turned around to go back to Eregion and to your daughter.

“If you love me and respect me,” you began. “If you love Celebrimbor… Just take him away from here. That is all I ask for,” you insisted and hurried back to Eregion. “Do not follow me!” You exclaimed after hearing him trying to rush after you.

He eventually listened to you because he had a huge love for Celebrimbor and he could see the state of him was not the best. You heard the sound of their steps subduing as you went back to Eregion. 

You went back to the forge, feeling a bit more peaceful on the inside, knowing that you managed to save your uncle from Sauron. You nodded at Almárea and she nodded back at you, visibly relieved to see you coming back to her.

Her father came back not long after, too. He was wearing a breastplate and holding Morgoth’s crown in his hand, which was dripping blood – you could feel from afar its purity and light. It was Elven.

“Have you killed her?” You whispered with widened eyes.

“Sadly, no,” Sauron answered with a smirk. “But I got The Nine,” he added and you looked away, feeling defeated. “Speaking of, where is Celebrimbor?”

“Far away,” you mumbled out, expecting him to lash out.

Surprisingly, he did not. He shrugged his arms.

“Whatever. He is no use to me anymore. Almárea, we are leaving,” he extended his free hand and nodded at her.

“You cannot take her away from me!” You turned your head around again to watch what she would do. She hesitated but then she ran up to him and squeezed his hand, which felt like a punch straight into your heart.

“Where are we going, daddy?” She asked.

“To our new home,” Sauron answered and turned around, dragging her behind him but she remained still. “What is it?” He asked with an irritated sigh.

“We are taking mummy with us, right?” She asked.

Long silence occurred. Sauron laid his cold and empty eyes upon you, sitting on the floor with your back pressed to the wall and crying silent tears.

“It is her choice,” he answered, softly, “but I doubt she wants to go with us.”

“On the contrary. I have no choice,” you gritted your teeth, clumsily standing up. “I must go where she goes. Even if it is a path I hate to follow.”

“Do you truly realise who I am?” Your husband titled his head at your words. “All the stories they have told you about me when you were a child – I am worse than any of them.”

“I am fully aware,” you approached him and held Almárea’s free hand. “And that is why I must go to make sure you do not turn her into a monster like you.”

It took you a few days of travel with the filthy army of Orcs to get to Mordor. You and Sauron did not exchange a single word during this trip. Almárea was riding with you on your horse for half of the day and then she would go to ride with her father. You made no stops on your way, so after arriving in Mordor, you and your daughter were exhausted.

The land was dark and barren, full of fire and ashes. It looked like hell but you decided not to complain because you realised you were on thin ice already – Sauron did not treat you like his consort in any way. Apparently, you would be nothing but a mother to his child from now on. Any sign of disobedience could be punished with exile and that was the last thing you wanted. You needed to be close to your daughter.

He ordered the Orcs to build him a grand fortress but until then, you resided in a big mansion that had once belonged to a rich human family of The Southlands. You had an awful view of Mount Doom from there and the rooms were all beautifully decorated but also dusty and worn out.

Once again – you did not complain. You did not dare.

You followed Sauron to the chambers he had decided would be yours and Almárea’s. He was carrying her in his arms as she was half-asleep already. You watched him put her to bed and caress her head as you sat down on the chair next to the bed. You held her little hand and squeezed it lovingly, watching her drift off to the land of dreams. Those past few days had been difficult and exhausting for her.

Sauron straightened his back and looked down at you with a bit of contempt but also affection – mixed together, they made you feel deeply uncomfortable.

“Do you remember?” He asked, speaking his very first sentence to you in days.

You furrowed your brows and looked up at him, questioningly. Your husband extended his hand and touched your cheek with it.

At that moment, your vision got blurry and you felt yourself go back in time a few years to one, specific memory. One of the most beautiful days you had ever lived.

You were sitting by the river, in a field full of flowers. Almárea was about a year old and clumsily taking her first steps. You watched Annatar helping her and chuckling at her harmless but funny falls as she kept giggling and blabbering, excitedly. The sun was slowly setting and you felt at peace. You truly believed your whole life would be just like that.

When Sauron took his hand away from your face, you found yourself back in Mordor, stripped of any faith and any dignity.

“Why did you show me that?” You asked him, angrily, as your eyes filled with fresh tears.

“It was the only moment when I felt that I should, perhaps, abandon my old life and remain in Eregion as Annatar by your side forever,” he confessed.

“Perhaps you should have,” was all you answered, in a whisper nearly inaudible as you watched him walk away with tears streaming down your cheeks.

You had cried out so many of them recently that you were starting to feel hollow and empty.

Weeks passed, maybe months. You had lost track of time since all your days were the same. You were given quite a lot of freedom because Sauron was sure you would never leave his side as long as Almárea was there. You were allowed to walk around the mansion and even take walks although you did not crave them at all since Mordor was not the perfect place to spend time outside.

You were barely exchanging any words with your husband and you seemed to avoid each other. However, he was making sure you were not short on anything. Once in a while there was a package waiting for you on your bed. Inside it you would find gifts – books to read or new dresses. And yesterday you had found an embroidery set, which filled your heart with joy.

You missed embroidery and you even considered it quite thoughtful that he had remembered about it. So, you were sitting by the window and focusing on your craft, trying to recreate Mount Doom, which your daughter loved for some reason. You wanted to make her happy.

You were focused on your work when the doors opened loudly, making you misplace the needle and hurt yourself as you hissed and looked up at your husband.

“Where is Almárea?” He asked, looking around the room.

“Is she not with you? Are you not teaching her your craft of treachery and deception like every day?” You asked with a sigh, defeated.

Sauron rolled his eyes but decided not to comment on your remark.

“I told her to go back to her mother about two hours ago,” he informed you and your heart skipped a beat at that revelation.

“Why didn’t you walk her here yourself?” You asked.

“I had an important matter to attend to and it is not like she is a toddler, is it?” Sauron clenched his jaw but you spotted a glimpse of panic in his eyes. “Where is she?”

“How can I know?! I thought she was with you!” You stood up instantly and put your embroidery set down before rushing out of your chambers. “Almárea!” You called out. “Almárea!”

“Have you seen Lady Almárea?” Sauron asked one of the Orcs walking down the hall.

“N-no, my Lord Sauron,” the Orc shook his head and you watched your husband sit his throat just like that. Usually, you found this behaviour of his dreadful. But now you were too scared and worried for your daughter to care

You kept searching for her all over the mansion, calling out her name, leaving a pile of dead Orcs behind because none of them could answer Sauron about Almárea’s location.

“I think she must have gone outside,” you said after bumping into your husband in the corridor. You watched his eyes widen even further in terror and concern. You snorted at that. “What are you? Scared of losing your precious tool?” You asked him with contempt.

That only angered him further as he grabbed your arm and squeezed it so tightly that you were sure there was a bruise forming already.

“Do not ever say that again,” he drawled out through gritted teeth right into your face. “Do not speak of matters you have no idea of.”

You swallowed thickly and nodded. Despite everything between you two – it seemed like you shared a thread together and that was love for your daughter. And because you were a worried mother, you regretted inflicting any pain upon a worried father.

“Forgive me,” you whispered and he let go of your arm.

“Do you have any idea where she could go?” Sauron asked you and you shook your head before freezing as you realised.

“Mount Doom,” you whispered. “For some reason, she adores it,” you explained.

“We must not waste any moment then,” Sauron grabbed your wrist and dragged you behind him as you two ran out of the mansion.

The forsaken volcano was not very far away from your home but it still took you quite a while to get there. The air was poisonous around it, making you choke and tear up. You were no mortal, therefore you were in no danger, but it was still an inconvenience. 

“If anything happened to her, I shall be the one to kill you, whatever it takes!” You threatened your husband and he did not even say anything to this. He let go of your wrist and proceeded to climb up.

You followed him but in many places the ground was slippery and you needed his support. His hand would grab you each time you stumbled and pull you up.

Breathing heavily, both covered in dirt from the ashes, you stood there, petrified, seeing Almárea sitting by the edge of the volcano and staring at it spitting out fire. She seemed to be content with her position. You looked up at Sauron with terror in your eyes and he left you behind to approach your daughter with extended hands.

“Almárea, what are you doing here? Have you not been told to never go outside without me or your mother?” Sauron asked, carefully.

“Ugh, daddy, I know, I am sorry. I was just so curious about this mountain and guess what? It is even better than I have imagined,” she confessed with a smile. “Do you know what it reminds me of?”

“What, Almárea?” He asked, taking a few more small steps closer to her.

“A forge,” she answered. “I miss uncle Celebrimbor’s one and this place makes me feel as if I was back there. Oh, daddy, can you imagine all the beautiful things we could craft here?” She asked with a smile.

Sauron froze for a moment as you watched the scene with a raised eyebrow. He looked around as if he had just realised something brilliant.

“Yes, I can, my darling. And we will,” he assured her. “But please, come to me and mummy now, will you?” He extended his hand even further and she nodded, eagerly.

You both gasped watching her stand up because one little wrong move could cause her to fall down the volcano. She, however, seemed to be oblivious. She skipped along towards her father and Sauron picked her up in an instant, squeezing her tight and caressing the back of her head.

Your heart swelled inside your chest at the realisation that he truly cared for her and truly loved her  – even if it was not enough to save her from making her play a part in his schemes.

“Can we go back home, please?” You pleaded and it was the very first time you called that awful place your home.

Sauron nodded at you and you began your walk down the mountain. You were still shaking slightly and holding onto his sleeve to make sure you would not fall. Just like in the old days, he was bringing you comfort and safety – he was making you feel protected even if it was only being protected from a fall.

When you reached your mansion, Sauron took Almárea to the chambers she shared with you. Her skin and robes were dirty with mud and ashes, therefore you prepared her a bath and helped her to undress and get inside the bathtub.

“Call for me if you need anything,” you told her as you placed a new dress on the chair for her to dress herself into after the bath. “Be careful, my darling,” you smiled at her and left her alone in the bathroom, although you left the door ajar just in case.

Sauron was still inside your chambers and staring out of the window at Mount Doom. You sighed at the sight of his back turned on you and you decided to approach him softly.

Your hands acted before you allowed them to and they placed themselves on his arm softly. Your body ached for him and his presence; it was too used to his touch.

He flinched a little and turned his head around to look down at you with a puzzled expression.

“I miss you,” you confessed. “I miss being close to you,” you added.

“You miss Annatar, not me,” he shrugged his arms and looked out of the window again.

“Was Annatar not you? From the very beginning, my husband was Sauron. I only chose to be blind to see it,” you whispered and he looked back at you again, surprised to hear your words.

“Do I not repulse you?” He snorted.

“It does not change the fact I love you still,” you sighed and pressed your cheek to his arm. You both remained dirty from the ashes but you did not mind that all because today’s shared experience of fear and concern for your daughter had brought you two close together once more.

“Your love differs from mine,” he pointed out, a little harshly.

“It has not escaped me,” you let out a chuckle and nuzzled your face deeper into his sleeve. “But it is alright that we love differently. I do not want to be your Queen, I do not want you to share your power with me. All I want is to–”

“Have a family with me,” Sauron finished the sentence softly and you looked up at him, gently. It was the very first time in a long time when your eyes filled with affection for him again. “I was never keen on the idea of having offspring,” he admitted. “But then you made me realise what a blessing children might be,” he cracked a smile and raised his hand to caress your cheek. “I was terrified of my potential child stealing my powers and overthrowing me but Almárea… Her powers and her mind terrify me in the most exquisite way. Do you know why she is so perfect?” He asked and you shook your head. “Because she is half you. She is half light and half darkness. The perfect balance and what else could possibly heal Middle-earth?”

You hated yourself but you found yourself falling for his beautiful words once again. You could never be sure after everything that had happened if his sweet nothings, promises and love declarations were ever genuine. Perhaps, you would forever wonder about it. But despite all of that, the dreadful memories of Eregion’s downfall and his behaviour then were becoming blurry with time and you were ready to move on; to start another chapter with him.

And, as usual, you had an excuse for your husband, too. He had been nervous then. Of course he had been the worst version of himself. But it did not mean he would always be like this. Right now he was not.

“Come here, my love,” Sauron pulled you closer and wrapped his arms around you. “Oh, how I have missed you, too, my darling. And even though it brought me great pain, I knew I had to wait for you to come to me out of your own free will.”

“Here I stand,” you whispered and a single tear streamed down your cheek.

“Almárea asked me about us,” Sauron put his hands on your arms and moved away slightly to be able to look at your face. “She wonders if we still love each other. I told her it was complicated.”

“I told her the very same thing,” you smiled sadly.

“But it is not, is it?” He raised an eyebrow and you shook your head, laughing nervously through your tears.

“No,” you admitted. “It is not.”

“It is true that I had my reasons to choose you out of all Elven maidens. And it is true that I was scared of having a son with you because I thought that the chances of a son overthrowing me would be higher,” he admitted and you furrowed your brows. “But you have become the most dear to me, the most precious,” he confessed and turned you around, making you look at Mount Doom as his hands lowered themselves to your abdomen.

You knew what he was about to do. You flinched at first, torn on the inside if it was truly what you wanted. Last time you had been deceived but now you would willingly allow it, despite knowing the true nature of the man who was your husband.

You looked down at his hands resting on your womb. He was still wearing a golden ring on his finger that you had put there on the day of your wedding. And you were still wearing yours because you still loved him despite hating yourself for it. You still wanted to be around him as if he was something addictive that you could not live without. And your womb was still open for more of his offspring.

You relaxed and when he sensed your consent, you could feel the warmth radiating off of his hands and filling you up, forming a new life inside of you.

You put your hands on top of his and squeezed them for courage.

“A son,” he whispered into your ear with lots of satisfaction and excitement.

“Another tool for you to use,” you pointed out.

“Another child for you to love and spoil,” Sauron brushed your hair strand and leaned in to kiss your cheek. “Another thread of love binding us together.”

“Mummy? Daddy?” Almárea’s voice made you both turn around. She walked out of the bathroom in her new dress and kept looking at you two with a big grin. “Does it mean you are in love again?” She asked, full of hope.

“Oh, my darling, we have never stopped being in love,” you assured her and opened your arms to allow her to give you a hug. You did not want her to know all the details about the nature of your relationship with her father. She had already seen and witnessed way too much.

She wrapped her arms around you and hugged you tight, which only made her smile grow even wider as she looked up.

“I am going to have a sibling!” She exclaimed, happily, after sensing the new life inside of you.

“You are going to have many,” Sauron spoke as he reached his hand out to caress her hair. “And each of you will get their own kingdom to rule over in my name and their own Ring,” he shared his new plan as a shiver went down your spine. “And all Middle-earth will be healed at once for your mother’s light and my darkness combine like two precious metals; balancing and amplifying everything I could ever be on my own.”

“But… But you will still rule over us all, right, daddy?” Almárea asked hopefully, as if she was already scared of the responsibility that one day would be put upon her shoulders.

“Oh, of course, little one,” Sauron smiled lovingly at her. “I shall always bear the biggest burden of power for that is a father’s one to carry.”

He loved her – of that you were sure now. But no amount of his love could protect her from his schemes and his manipulations. Therefore, he had to love you as well and no amount of cruelty he had put you through contradicted it.

That was the way Sauron loved. It was a cursed devotion but also a blessed one.

MASTERLIST

[full-potential]

The Miracle of Timing: A Near Miss and the Art of Living

Life, in all its unpredictability, often presents us with circumstances that we would usually deem as accidents. However, these very moments can reveal themselves as miracles if we pause to perceive the underlying gift they present. Recently, an incident shook me to my core, and subsequently unfolded the most profound lesson about life and the divine. It was a day like any other when Sol, my faithful canine companion, nearly encountered death. She was hit by a car, a sight that would make any heart shudder. The car passed over her, and for a moment, it seemed we had lost her. But life, in its most mysterious way, had other plans. Sol didn't just survive that terrifying ordeal; she came out of it astonishingly unscathed. She has no broken bones, no major injuries, and she can even run up and down the stairs as she used to. It was a moment of unexplainable relief and joy, a moment that seemingly defied the laws of probability and logic. This event, as traumatic as it was, turned out to be a gift beyond the obvious miracle of Sol's survival. It was a moment that brought me closer to something much larger than us, something divine. Witnessing Sol's miraculous escape, with only a skinned face and leg to show for her ordeal, was a revelation. It demonstrated that something far greater than what we can comprehend is at play here. And for this, I am deeply grateful. Such occurrences offer us a unique opportunity to count our blessings, to appreciate the everyday miracles that we often overlook. They remind us to delve deeper into our experiences, to find meaning and value in every situation. This, I believe, is the art of living. It is about finding appreciation for each moment, especially those rare peak moments when everything seems to align perfectly. These moments of profound clarity, filled with lightness, joy, love, and fun, are the ones that truly matter. They teach us to be better observers, to realize that more of these beautiful moments are always within our reach. It's about enhancing our appreciation for these instances, understanding that they are not just random, but rather part of a grand design. The art of living isn't about rushing through life, but about immersing oneself in the journey, one moment at a time. It is about acknowledging that even what may appear as accidents can be miracles, if we choose to see them that way. In the dance of life, where timing is king, Each moment a gift, each second a string. A tale of a miracle, I'm here to bring, Of Sol, my companion, and her near-death fling. A car rushed forth, an unwanted guest, Struck her down, put her to the test. She lay there silent, her motion at rest, A moment in time, a heart-wrenching jest. But Sol, oh brave, rose from beneath, No broken bones, just grit in her teeth. She ran up and down stairs, her strength unsheathed, A miracle unfurled, a sigh of relief. A terrifying ordeal that came to pass, Showed us life through a different glass. A moment that brought me closer to the vast, Invisible power that holds us fast. A miracle disguised, in an accident's cloak, A divine connection, in misfortune, woke. Beneath the chaos, a pattern spoke, Of a grander design, beneath life's yoke. The art of living, in moments we find, The blessings of life, to them we're blind. Deeper we must look, deeper we must bind, To appreciate the gifts, in every kind. Peak moments of joy, of love, and light, Where everything aligns, feels just right. These are the instances, shining bright, Teaching us to observe, with keen sight. Breathe in the journey, one moment a time, In the dance of life, every step is prime. Accidents or miracles, in this life's chime, Every moment closer to the divine. So let us cherish, the miracle in the stray, In the dance of life, there's more than we may. Every moment a gift, every night and day, In the art of living, that's the only way. So breathe in and enjoy this magnificent journey called life. Cherish the miracles disguised as accidents, and let each day unfold its gifts. Because every moment, even the most unexpected ones, can bring us closer to the divine, closer to understanding the profound beauty of life. Read the full article

[thestoryden]

Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader

Warnings: Violence

Word Count: Drabble

The Sword's Edge

A/N: Written and posted on mobile. Not proofread. Something for the Jace fans.

Masterlist / Taglist / Request: Open

"My love, you must try this." Jacaerys says.

He shoves a forkful of cake into your mouth. It is too sweet and you can't bare to tell him that you think it is disgusting. Your teeth feel like the are being shocked with every chew. Jacaerys lays his hand on your shoulder.

"Let us go congratulate the bride and groom again." Jacaerys says excitedly, "Maybe we can ask for their blessing of our marriage."

When he turns his back you spit the sponge like cake in to a napkin, and follow after him. He puts his hand behind his back and reaches out for you to take it. He guides you through the dance floor and the many tables of food.

When you get to the married couples table the bride is absolutely enthralled with the groom. She sits in his lap and runs her fingers through his hair. He looks nervous but happy.

"Would you like that to be us some day?" You jest, elbowing Jacaerys in the side.

"Oh yes, very much." Jacaerys replies.

You can see in his eyes that he is dreaming up every detail of your wedding already. It will be much more extravagant that this as you are to marry when he became heir. Royal weddings are always large affairs.

"What have we here?" A familiar voice curls around your ears and envelopes you like smoke.

You feel a hand snake around your waist and pull you close. Out of the corner of your eye a curtain of sliver hair.

"You'd do well to take your hands off my intended, Aemond." Jacaerys barks.

"They were once intended to be mine, but nobel houses are so fickle like that. Maybe, if I 'take care' of the right people their lord father will see if to gift them back." Aemond says.

You shove Aemond off, "Not if I have anything to say about it."

Aemond scans your face trying to decipher something out your very clear statement. Jacaerys reaches for your hand, and holds it firmly.

"We have to go wish the couple well now." Jacaerys says through gritted teeth.

"Fine, but be sure to come find me when you want to marry into the legitimate side of the family." Aemond whispers.

"I dare you to say that again." You shout as you draw Jacaerys sword from his side.

The whole room stands still. Not a breath nor whisper could be heard among them. Aemond stands perfectly still curiosity and surprise dancing in his eye, and just a hint of fear.

"As if you knew how to use it." Aemond retorts.

He holds up two fingers to move the blade out of his face. There is suddenly a distinct wet sound. Aemond's fingers lay on the cold stone.

"I think you'll find I do." You say with a smile.

Taglist: @sinlist @isabel2you @cedricsleftelbow @groovyponypatrollamp @ofherscarlettwitchways @aprilsimonsstuff @tnu-ree @pinkydevil16 @guijh103 @severewobblerlightdragon @thegirlnextdoorssister @thanyatargaryen @zgzgzh @fultimefangirl @esposadomd @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @missusnora @eonnyx @winxschester @icarusignite @two-rolls-of-tape

[primofate]

Kinktober: Doing it raw for the first time [Modern AU] (Minors do not interact) Not SFW

Notes: And so it comes to this. I’m just jumping in >_> I don’t usually write smut but I guess I was in the mood?

Warning: gosh I don’t know where to start. no protection, rope play, breeding kink, overstim, size kink, praise kink, not proofread, giving head, established relationship. Pretty soft for Albedo and Diluc then it goes a bit hard for the others >_>

Characters: Albedo, Diluc, Kaeya, Tartaglia, Xiao, Zhongli x fem!reader

Juicy stuff below the cut

Albedo

Albedo was not one to push you into doing things. Even when your bodies were pressed up against each other, the warm touch of his bare skin on yours almost sticky, yet intoxicatingly so.

“Bedo, please,” 

You whimper under him as he slaps his cock against your glistening folds. So pretty, he thought to himself. Even the subtle slap of his cock on your wetness was making him shiver. 

He grabs your hips and pulls you towards him easily, his stature might seem small but his work with the fencing sword proved him to be strong and able. He leans in to whisper in your ear, his tip lining up to your opening. “Ready?” His husky breath tickles your ear, but before you could reply, you can feel him stretching you open. 

You close your eyes and throw your head back at how painfully slow he was going. You could feel every inch of him push through you and you hear him stifle a groan. “B-Bedo...!” you mewl his name, feeling him fully for the first time, as he does you. 

“Shhh...” He whispers out, trying to concentrate on the tight squeeze of your cunt around him. Trying to ground himself. Trying not to just plow you through your orgasm. He bottoms out, his whole length buried into your damp hole. He looks down to see how connected the two of you are, face flushed into one of bliss. “...Beautiful, Y/N,” 

Still, he’s calm. He’s calm as he takes his hand and starts rubbing on your sensitive nub. You jerk up and you clench around him, earning another groan. “T-Tight...” He pants, unable to wrap his head around the fact that he’s getting squeezed by you. 

And suddenly, both his hands are on your waist again, he pulls out nearly completely, leaving only the tip inside and you lift your head up giving him a questioning look, until he thrusts his hips forward, sheathing himself in one swift motion. “A--aghh!” A strangled moan leaves your mouth as he ruts into you almost violently.

He can’t control himself. It’s different. His bare cock in you. “I-I can’t stop--” the bed creaks, his hold on your waist nearly bruising, pistoning himself. Grunting, groaning, hitting you in all the right spots as he hears you cry out “Mmggh! A-Albedo! There, right there!” 

It’s like fuel for him, chasing his own high and yours. The friction on his cock is unreal. The wetness. The vice-grip. His head is spinning and you watch as he throws his head back in a beautiful moan. “Y/N...!” You watch as his hips continue in a magical pace, your hands suddenly gripping the bedsheets as you arch your back, reaching your orgasm before him, “-t’so good, so good! Albedo I’m cumming!” he thrusts a few more times, you can’t even feel him stiffen, just coming down from your high. He quickly pulls out and fists his cock, spurts of white shooting out to your stomach, grunting “Wish I could cum in you...” 

He rarely says such things, but you grin when he does.

“How about for next time...?” you suggest.

Diluc

He’s a gentle lover...for the most part. But there are days where even he loses control as he stands above you, worshipping your body. How could he not? It was a divine gift from God. Every time the two of you tangled in the sheets, it was a little piece of heaven for him, just seeing you bare and open.

The moans that you give out are even more of a blessing. He loves to please you. Loves to hear his name in whimpers and in squeals. So, his first order of events is tasting you. Letting you cum on his face as much as he wanted, it wasn’t your choice. 

Now he towers over you, your face already flushed out from the two orgasms he has licked out of you. He smiles at the look on your face, hair sticking to your forehead with sweat. He lays over you and starts peppering kisses up your jaw, stopping at your ear. “On your front, darling,” He helps you turn, your ass is now grinding against his hardness and he ruts into the smooth surface of your skin as he kisses your neck. He’s deliberately slow, but you’ve anticipated tonight for far too long. “Diluc, I want you...”

He chuckles behind you, but moves up, and prods your opening with his tip. “...You’re...extremely wet...” he whispers in awe. He could guess that you were a lot more excited today than usual. So was he, the tip of his cock seemed a lot more enflamed than usual. 

He pushes in, there’s some resistance but he manages to slide it halfway.

SLAP.

You yelp as you feel his hand smack your ass. “Y/N... God-- Sorry, I--” It was just too good. It was entirely different from usual. You can feel his hands grip on your ass, squeezing it as he finally rests fully inside you. You can’t see it, but he shivers. The way your walls are clamping down on him is sending him to a high.

Slowly, he pulls out halfway and thrusts in again. His pace is mellow, but you can feel every inch of him all the same. His perfect cock curves in the right places, hitting you just as you like it. “Love you, Y/N,” He has his eyes closed as he says this, reveling in the feeling of your warmth. “Love you so much,” and yet his hands are gripping your ass tighter, his pace is quickening. The control he once had is slipping fast and before long all you can hear is the loud slap slap slap of his skin hitting yours. 

The feeling is intense, your face smothered on the bed as he gradually drills into you. “Diluc! Diluc!” that’s the sound he loves. The sound of your fucked-out voice moaning his name. “Ohhh feels so good... your cock feels so good... Don’t stop!” you whimper as his hips thrust at the same time he pulls you down. 

He grits his teeth as he groans, “Cu-cumming!” every thrust he sends you feels like fireworks in your tummy. You stiffen up as the pleasure you feel peaks, you moan into the pillow as you orgasm, a little embarrassed at the feral sounds you were making. “Mine, all mine,” he grunts as he bottoms into you, cumming deep into your walls, and collapsing on top of you, his arms barely able to keep him propped up. He kisses your shoulder as he comes down from his high, still grunting and panting until he slips out of you, spent. 

“You’re a goddess, Y/N,” 

Kaeya

There’s a red blindfold round your head, and your wrists are tied up above it. Kaeya watches as you squirm a little. It’s his favourite type of play, for a special type of occasion. 

Your folds are already glistening for him, and although he didn’t tie your legs up he’s got them spread wide open with his strong hands. He’d been fingering you, getting you ready for his cock. “Please,” 

Of course, he doesn’t make it easy. “Please what, love?” a smirk on his face that you can’t see. “Want you in me...” you whimper out, lifting your hips up a little in hopes that you would find what you were looking for. His cock on your folds. “Whose cock do you want, Y/N?” he continues to tease you with his hands, his finger running a circle around your clit, completely avoiding it. “Yours Kaeya, just yours, please...”

He chuckles at this moment, “Good girl,” and you can feel him shifting his weight, can feel him pushing your knees up to your chest in the breeding position. Then, without any warning, he ruts into you all in one go. “Oh my God!” you keen at the painful and sudden stretch, but a few seconds later as his length pulses in you, fills you up in every corner, stars erupt in your eyes. “More, please, more!” 

You’re not quite sure how loud you’re being, but he’s in total bliss at the raw feeling. “Shit...That’s my girl,” he hammers into you relentlessly, almost painfully but the pain hurts so good. “This pussy’s officially mine,” he grunts as he fucks you out, the rough in and out earning stuttered moans from you. “You cumming, pretty?” his eyes trail down towards your pressed back head, open mouth wailing him praises. “Ohh yes, yes! S-So close!”

He crouches over you and presses your tied hands onto the bed, hips blindingly fast. “Mm, such a good pussy for me. Take it, take it all...” he starts to grunt more, head dipping lower into your neck as he feels the pleasure grip all around him. “Fuck,” he spits out as he stiffens, an animalistic growl escaping his lips just as you grip tighter around him and reach your own high. “Fuuuck, you’re so good, Y/N,” 

He slips out, handfuls of cum spilling out from your hole as he leans his body over yours.

Tartaglia

“Relax babe, you’re always so good at this,” He’s laid out on the bed, arms behind his head as he watches you grind your clothed pussy on his bare cock. Such a sight for sore eyes. Your lids are shut, cheeks are flushed and your mouth open in silent gasps. “You like that, huh?” His smirk is obvious, thoroughly entertained, as if watching a show that was made just for him. 

“Mmhmm...” You whimper, feeling your clit rub against his long, veiny cock. Your voice seems to spur something in him as he reaches out and pulls your panties aside. “Lift up,” he commands you and you follow, propping yourself up on your knees. “Go on now,” his shit-eating grin is almost teasing, but when you line yourself up on him, tip slipping past the tightness allowing you to fully sit on his raw cock for the first time, his grin disappears and is replaced with a strangled, guttural groan. “Oh shit,” his hands grab your hips and stills you, glues you to your sitting spot. 

You watch with half-lidded eyes as he closes his eyes and struggles. “Oh fuck it’s better than I thought,” he inches his hips up a little, provoking a moan from you. “I-I like this better too...” you murmur. You can feel every vein on him, every curve and thickness rubbing against your walls. Slowly he takes his hands away and places it on his side, rutting his hips up, making you bounce slightly and squeal, a signal for you to start.

You waste no time in bouncing up and down on him, hands on his chest, balancing yourself. The only sounds in the bedroom is the slap of skin on skin, your wanton moans and his animalistic growls. “Y/N, fuck,” one of his hands grips your thigh, he can feel his cock grow warmer, feel the knot in his stomach tighten. He’s nearing his orgasm and he can’t keep still anymore. 

He starts plowing up against you. Your bouncing is now fueled by his hips and not your own accord, you scream at how rough he’s going, how his dick kisses your cervix with every hard thrust up. “So deep! More, don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop” your words string together and are hardly coherent. He takes that as a sign to keep pulling your hips down just as he thrusts up, somehow, one of his hands manage to rub at your clit despite all the bouncing and you tighten up almost immediately.

“Childe!”

“SHIT!”

The two of you scream out at the same time, reaching orgasm mere seconds apart from each other. You collapse on him, and he wraps his arms around you. He takes a few seconds to recover before he flips you over onto the bed. “...You can’t expect me to just go one round... I’m addicted now...”

Xiao

“You want to do it...without this?”

He already has the condom in his hand, and you’re laid out on the bed prettily. “...I’ve been taking birth control instead,” those words has him on top of you in seconds. He’s kissing you fervently, the bulge in his boxers seem to keep growing. Xiao is well-endowed and you know it from the countless times you’ve taken him deep in your throat. 

“I love you, you know that? If you don’t want to it’s okay,”

“I want to,” the words between kisses are fast and heated. He wants to make sure you’re alright with it. He seems gentle now, but the truth is he’s insatiable in bed. He has a hunger for you that doesn’t end. As with any other session, he preps you for his cock with his fingers. One, two, up until the third one stretches you out so well and good that you start asking for more. You start asking for him. 

“Xiao...Want your cock..”

He takes his fingers away and rubs your wetness on him, hoping that the slight lubrication would make it easier for you today. But it’s never easy with him. Every time is like the first time, the painful stretch of his massive girth, the way you feel so full even when it’s just halfway in. 

“C’mere,” he pulls you easily towards the edge of the bed and instructs you to flip over, your ass is hanging on the edge and he thumbs in gently, positioning himself into your damp hole and slowly pushing in. “X-Xiao! S’too big... too much!”

Dear Gods the sensation is a hundred times more intense. He doesn’t even hear you talking about how big he is, he’s lost in the velvety folds of your cunt, in the way your walls stretch out to accommodate to him. He doesn’t answer you and he’s lost in the pleasure, pulling your hips back to make you stretch out all the way and take him all in. “XIAO!” 

You feel like cumming just from him being all the way inside and truthfully he feels the same. He’s afraid he might cum in just a few pumps, so he takes it slow, reaching in front of you to play with your clit, to ease up the stretch you feel. “A-Ah! No! Too much!” 

You start to squirm as his fingers find the sensitive nerves. This time, he hears you and replies. “Shhh... You’re doing well, Y/N,” his fingers rub faster circles on your clit and finally, he feels that he can move a little better now as you keen and rut your hips against his hand. “That’s it...” he whispers and starts at a demonic pace. He can’t help it, it’s too good. “I won’t last long, Y/N,” but you’re already at your orgasm, you’re already reaching your second, his fingers still relentlessly rubbing on you. “The best, it’s the best!” you moan and he watches as your ass bounces on his big cock. “Mmmrghhh... Fuck, so fucking tight,” 

His last few thrusts are brutal. Deep, strong and forceful, until he freezes and unloads inside you with a groan. 

Zhongli

You look at him as you finish up your blowjob. You see him looking down at you on your knees, obediently bobbing your head up and down. Today though, he doesn’t let himself finish in your mouth. He pulls your head back gently and looks you in the eyes. “...Y/N...Let me make you feel good,” 

He gathers you in his arms and places you on his office desk, the papers are strewn around on the floor already. He kisses you hungrily, hands roaming up and down before settling on rubbing you through your underwear. “Zhongli...” He’s a lot stronger than he looks, and this time he pushes your legs apart, his cock is right at your entrance, just waiting for his pushing motion. “Last chance to say no,” he mutters and you answer with a lewd “Fuck me raw,”

He pushes through the muscle of your opening, groaning as he does so. “Gods, Y/N, you’re tighter than usual,” he doesn’t hold back. He knows you can take it and fucks into you rough. He picks you up in his arms as he fucks you and your legs wrap around his waist automatically. He’s making you bounce on his cock at a vicious pace. He can hardly steal a glance at his cock as it disappears right back into your hole. “Zhongli, c-cum in me,” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, as if trapping him. Something snaps inside of him at your words and he maneuvers you onto his office chair and starts pistoning inside of you, his hands gripping the arms tightly. “O-Oh my God. Give it to me, pleasepleasepleaseplease,”

He’s never been this rough before, and you wonder if it’s because of what you said or the fact that he’s doing it raw. He isn’t a very vocal person but today he promises to give you his all. “This.is.all.yours.” he says in between hard thrusts. “Take it all, Y/N, take it--” he stops talking when his pleasure cuts him off, fireworks going off in his head and he shivers on top of you. He growls under his breath and suddenly slaps your cunt, right above the clit and your jerk up with a howl. “FUCK!” 

All of a sudden he’s starting again, he’s fucking into you hard even through your orgasm. “Oh shit! Li! fill me up!” You’re shuddering under him, body out of control at the sheer amount of pleasure he’s giving you, his fingers continue to rub and tap on your clit. “C-Cumming! I’m cumming! OH ff-”

You feel him stop inside of you, and by his low groans you can tell that he’s released his thick strings of cum inside. You wouldn’t have it any other way. 

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[lclthlcved]

Passion was something she was good at even if it was in a very aggressive manner. Her words held the very conviction she believed, the thoughts and mantras that kept her going throughout her time in near isolation with only her faith by her side. Even as the other did stiffen up, Barrae would take notice of it, but not bother to truly address it. Perhaps they weren't born of the Hells, but they certainly looked like they belonged there at some point. Nevertheless it didn't truly matter.

" The sunlight is nothing but a killer. The Underdark in all it's beauty can never be compared to the dull consuming blistering sun. If you had seen it you would know. Every night here, every day here, all the same, the sun rises and sets. The stars are so dull within the sky. Within the underdark a canvas, who's brush is the very shrooms and plant life that have found growth in the darkness. Painting a new map upon the walls and world around us to discover and marvel in. Never is it always the same, a beautiful change and mystery. " There's a moment of silence as she reflects. Longing to be back home, before gritting her teeth and clenching her fists. No time to be nostalgic when there was a job to do.

" Lolth, our Queen and Goddess blesses all Drow. No matter pure or not. It's through her we can see as well as we do within the darkness, through her love our innate magic is gifted, and no matter who or where you are born her love persists in your life and she'll always find ways to keep watch. Spiders and bats are naturally drawn to us Drow, a gift, a show of favor of how she loves us that we innately connect with those who she also blesses most. We do not simply earn her love, but we had been gifted it for being born what we are without needing to give anything in return. We should be honored, but many would reject her love, fools as they are. "

Eliyen jumped when she raised her voice, moving backwards ever so slightly. My, how passionate this drow was about the topic. Naturally, she supposed, anyone would be passionate if they felt pride for their homeland.

"Hm. Almost poetic," Eliyen said, tilting her head to the side, "I suppose it is natural you'd only see beauty in darkness, but be not mistaken; there is beauty in light, too. It nurishes life here; the plants, the animals, all that lives above ground depends on its light. That's not to say the darkness of the Underdark is a bad thing; they are opposites, but not enemies. They coexist, in harmony, no?"

One from the hells. She straightened in her stance, her left ear seemed to flicker. With irritation? "I am not of the Hells." The way she said it, shed the accusations from her; a stark contrast to her gentle, poetic voice from just seconds before. Not outright hostile, but rather defensive. Lolth. Now, that name she'd heard! She listened to the drow tell her of the Goddess' love for her people, ears flicking in curiosity. "Such is the love of the Spider Queen for her people. Rather fascinating! Your people must be honored to be so loved by their Goddess. Few earn such love from their Gods, no?"

[cahmilo]

Show them what you got | camilo m.

pairings: camilo madrigal x gn reader

genre: fluff

requested by: anonymous

summary: being in a relationship with a Madrigal may sometimes be hard. they were well-off, well-respected and were treated like royalty; which was something you were not. gossip and whispers kept you down and camilo hated it. one day, he proves them all wrong and gets you to do something you never even knew you were capable of doing.

"There they go again, what does Camilo even see in Y/N?"

"I heard Y/N's family is dating Camilo for the money"

"Do you think they deserve to be a Madrigal? They're so poor though"

"They're not even worth fighting for what do they have that I don't?"

Various words from the people acted like bullets shot to your heart, while it was common, it still had a toll on you. You, a normal villager in the Encanto, never really got any attention or eyes on you.

Not until Camilo Madrigal asked you out.

Yes, THE Camilo Madrigal. The resident shapeshifter, the town's sunshine, the village's happy pill, and the most social out of all the Madrigals. He was a blessing to you, and though it was hard to keep up a relationship with someone as well-respected as him, it was worth it.

Oftentimes Camilo would be offended for you over comments made by the people, who were they to insult the love of his life? As much as he just wanted to snap at them, you always held him back saying that 'it doesn't matter', when deep inside someone else with a gift of hearing gets heartbroken over your silent sobs every midnight.

Today was like any other normal day, you had your chores with Camilo and you played along with children and took care of them while their parents can't. It may be draining keeping up with a LOT of bundles of joy, the smiles on Camilo's face kept you energized and brightened up your dimming days.

While on your way home after the kids dispersed to their parents, Camilo insisted he watches the sunset with you on Casita's rooftop. On the way there however, didn't go your way.

Walking jolly across the mossy pavements of the village, Camilo held your hand and intertwined it with his, swaying it back and forth.

"Today was something huh?" He asked while panting. "I swear the more coffee Juancho drinks, the more hyper he's gonna be and he's still 7!"

"But you look adorable though chasing him all around" You cooed as Camilo grimaced sarcastically, rolling his eyes when you pinched his cheeks. Both of you were left to giggle, chatting about your usual days with Camilo cracking up a few jokes to make you laugh.

Not until you passed by a group of people your age, gossiping oddly really loudly.

"He's with them again" "Does he ever get tired of them? Cause I already have just even looking at their face" "Poor Camilo he deserves better-"

Your eavesdropping was cut short when you felt Camilo's hand grip tightly against yours. He was about to stomp towards them when you put a hand on his chest and looked at him in the eyes. It held anger, fury, his eyes were burning like flames having not used to such remarks about you. But the moment his eyes met yours, it immediately softened.

"No, Camilo" You whispered to him, "Don't make a fuss over me"

"But I should. They were clearly talking bad about you" He grit through his teeth and furrowed his eyebrows. Caressing the back of the palm with your thumb, you tried to ease him off and led him faster back to the Casita. With the live house seemingly used to your presence and sensing Camilo's anger, it immediately made stairs that led to the rooftop.

The sunset from the top is as beautiful as it would always be. You were lucky because the Madrigal's house was situated at the very top of the Encanto which makes it easier to see the sun set with its colorful hues and vibrancy. After you and Camilo settled in, you let him cuddle and position himself to your chest, caressing his hair and whispering soft tunes to make him calm down.

"Amor" He whispered softly, "How are you not bothered by what they all say?"

You pursed your lips, unable to think of coherent words that sums up your emotional abuse from them for the past months. "I- I don't know- I mean, to be honest, it does bother me but I try not to let it to."

You felt Camilo hum when you rested your chin over the crown of his head, your fingers fiddling with the curls on his hair. You took it as a sign to continue in an attempt to break the comfortable silence.

"Out of all the people, Camilo... why did you choose me?" You choked out a sob, afraid to break down to the love of your life. "There are many other people more attractive, and they even got more to offer to your family. I'm just, I'm poor, my family barely makes a living and if I were to be honest, I don't think such family should be tied to yours whom of which are the total opposite-"

Camilo has heard enough, he cut you off when he suddenly sat up to face you. He held both your wrists and let you face him with a stern look in his face. You can still slightly observed that he was offended, sad and angry at the same time. It was your talent and privilege from having to see this view everyday but this time, it was so full of negativity that you just wanted to hug and kiss his worries away.

"Look, Y/N" Camilo blankly said. It lowkey scared you because he was always the one with petnames or nicknames and knowing that he used your actual name, you could tell he was not joking around.

"None of that matters when I'm with you. When we met I didn't give a damn about your status or job or financial problems or anything else. What mattered was that I felt safe and sound around your mere presence and that was enough to let me know that it is you I want to spend the rest of my life with." Camilo softened his voice midway as he wiped a stray tear that escaped your glassy eyes. He held both your cheeks and leaned in, resting his forehead and nose against yours.

"You're everything I've been looking for, Y/N L/N. Nothing else is ever gonna make me change my mind. Not your bullies, not our families, not anything or anyone. You are the blessing given to me and every time I hold you, it would only make my family's magic wish it was stronger than what we have."

Every single word that came out from Camilo's mouth singlehandedly fixed every bullet hole shot by your bullies. It was as if he, too had a gift of healing. Breaking down your walls, you sobbed in his arms and it was now his turn to comfort and sing for you. Letting it all out, you dipped further into his embrace.

"Then what should I do to make it stop, Camilo?" You finally looked up at him. By the looks of it, he seemed perfectly fine and rested now. His train of thought led him to bring back his devilish grin. While holding you by the shoulders, he looked at you in the eye as he said,

"We're gonna show them what you got"

—

Later at night after Camilo brought you to your house, his mood suddenly brightened up the moment he kissed you goodbye. Practically stomping to Mirabel's room, he kicked the door open.

"MIRABEL!" The girl shot up from her table, startled from the loud screeching from her cousin. "What the hell, Camilo? What do you want?"

"I want you to make a dancing dress for Y/N that matches my ruana"

—

Whatever happened to Mirabel from the earlier encounter, also happened to Isabela.

"ISABELA!"

"Dios mio, What do you want Camilo?"

"Mirabel's making a grand dress for Y/N and I want you to decorate it with sunflowers."

—

Like a repeated record, Dolores was the unfortunate next victim for Camilo's mysterious antics.

"DOLORES!" Immediately, the girl covered her ears the moment the boy crashed into her room. "What is it now, Camilo?"

"Mirabel's making a dress for Y/N, Isabela is putting flowers all over it and I need your yellow headscarves and accessories for their hairstyle when they wear it"

"Okay sure, but what's the occasion?"

And that was how Dolores, the town's chismosa, was giddy enough to spill to her family that Camilo was planning something to show you off to the entire town.

—

"ABUELA!" Yes, even the poor old lady got her peaceful moment of silence interrupted by none other than her first male grandkid. With a sigh, she asked patiently. "Yes, Camilo?"

"We're having the celebratory anniversary of the Casita rebuild tomorrow night right?"

"Yes, the whole town is invited."

"Good!" Camilo said excitingly. He had a wide grin in his face that eventually Abuela also mirrored. Before she can ask, Camilo beat her to it,

"Can me and Y/N have a solo dance after the ceremony?"

—

"You want me to do what?!" You yelled as your face show disbelief. "A dance?! In front of everyone?!"

"YES!" Camilo said, holding your hands and shaking it excitedly. "I wanted to show you off to them, let your bullies see that you are much more than what they saw and since I'm forbidden to do violence, we'll show them a piece of their minds by giving them the best dance they've ever seen! They'll be so stunned and jealous they're never gonna mess with you ever again!

And just when you were about to whine, he grabbed your hand and literally dragged you to Mirabel's room. The boy had too much excitement that you couldn't disagree no more. If Camilo went all the way to bother all his family into preparing this all for you, it made you realize how special you are and how lucky you were to catch this boy's attention.

—

It was finally time for the celebration. As usual, Casita was packed. It was lively, bright, and full of music just as any Madrigal party goes. However, it was missing a few family members as they were too busy prepping you up for the dance.

The Madrigal girls all cooed at your now prepared appearance. Mirabel has sewn the most beautiful golden dress anyone has laid their eyes on, Isabella added flowers that accentuated your outfit, and Dolores neatly fixed your hair to prevent it from getting messed up during the dance. Though you were quite nervous, the girls reassured you and calmed you down while Camilo waits for you outside the Casita.

Walking out discreetly from the back of the Casita, you met Camilo who was waiting patiently for you. The moment his eyes laid on you, he felt like he was floating on cloud 9, his heart leaped with joy, his eyes glimmered against the moonlight and his hands shivered. If falling in love with someone happens multiple times, this count would be for infinity.

"You look amazing, amor." Camilo held your hand and pulled you closer. You let out a light laugh and kissed him in the cheek, feeling the heat radiating from the area as Camilo profusely got flustered. In an attempt to regain his consciousness, he linked his arm with yours .

"Shall we?"

—

Stares. Glares. Eyes on you.

But this time, it made you felt proud.

The same eyes that stared on your casual figure at the village turned into glares of jealousy the moment you and Camilo walked in to the center of the courtyard. With arms linked with his, numerous groups of teens your age pierced their glares through your heart, their mouths fiddling with whispers and gossips you couldn't hear.

But you didn't care, not yet.

Taking in the moment, you held your head up high with a wide smile that Camilo fell in love with; the same smile he saw when you were together at the river when you danced playfully for the first time.

The moment you danced once again with Camilo, it felt like you two were the only people in the world. He held you gracefully and spun you around with uttermost care. Only Camilo saw you dance, and this moment made him feel like heaven on earth. Being able to sway and carry you to his favorite tune in front of the entire village, showing to them that you were only his to care and he was yours to treasure,

It definitely proved your bullies wrong.

But they didn't give up. Throughout the entire dance, you can feel their piercing gazes from far away. No matter how much you tried to ignore it, you can still hear the whispers and jealous gossip flowing from their mouths and it still bothered you. Using up as much as you can to turn them away, you continued dancing with Camilo until it was the final end where you were dipped by him. He held your waist so gently and supported your neck with his other hand. His eyes? Straight towards you the entire time.

"Camilo, they're still glaring at me" You whispered to him.

"Who?"

"All the people that wanted you." He slowly turned his head only to see the same bullies that had intense gears of anger in their eyes dashing straight way towards you.

"Amor" Camilo went back to your gaze, asking for your attention. He made sure all your eyes were on him before he whispered to you,

"Then kiss me in front of all those who wanted me." He paused before he added in,

"Show all of them who I belong to."

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thumbnail from the artists of purrfect tale

[brainrotfics]

masterlist [04] panic room summary: In which (Name) Madrigal struggles with their gift of freezing time and their inability to talk to their own family. notes: i used like one part of a deleted scene so it's kind of ooc?? warnings: panic/anxiety attack, mentions of death ("you're dead to me"), self-hitting, lack of time perception, memory problems [prev] | [next]

This was the exact reason why (Name) hated working twice as hard. They had spent god knows how long in town, running back and forth between shops and homes, all to pick up late deliveries or find an extremely important item left behind or even prevent a near accident from occurring. And all the while, their pocket watch's hands kept ticking away.

They couldn't stand the sound of it right now. Granted, they couldn't stand the sound of ticking ever, especially when it came to the clocks in their room, but right now that feeling was even worse. So, where else would they go?

They couldn't go to their parents' room. Well, they could, but they didn't want to. Their issue was one that they preferred to keep to themselves.

Their siblings were also off limits. Dolores, bless her, would already know what the issue was. And same for Camilo, too. They were siblings, after all. No doubt they would be able to deduce why (Name) didn't feel like going back to their room. But, despite being relatively close in age (or at least expected age), they didn't know how to properly confide in them. There were moments where they were close and they felt like a connected part of the youngest Madrigal generation, but there were also moments where they felt isolated from them.

But they still loved them.

And since they opted to hide away from their family, they found the one place they expected no one to go to. But, with proper deduction, there's no surprise that this was (Name)'s safe haven every now and then.

"I'm back," (Name) whimpered, gritting their teeth as the stairs creaked beneath their feet. No matter how many times they came here without being caught, they were always scared that one day someone would find them and rip their safe space away from them.

They let out a quiet grunt as they sat on the top step, leaning their head against the green wall. From where they sat, they could barely see the intricate carvings of their uncle's abandoned room. A few inches in front of them were small holes, remnants of the nails that stuck planks of wood in front of the entrance.

They never did find out when Casita took them down. But they were grateful it did.

There were times when (Name) missed their uncle. Plenty of times, in fact. Despite their ever-fading memories, there were days when (Name) found themselves remembering vivid moments with their beloved uncle. Granted, most of those memories were jumbled up with the strange stories their father loved to tell about him, but they would take what they could get.

From what they could remember, they were quite close with Bruno. It only made sense considering the intricacies of their gifts. Both had involved time, after all.

But, once their younger cousin's gift ceremony had come and gone, so too did Bruno. The magic faded from his door, the once relaxing room (Name) (probably) loved to visit now filled to the brim with sand and cobwebs. So, (Name) resorted to sitting just outside of the door, staring up at the wood carving and taking deep breaths as they tried to calm themselves down. Sometimes, the only thing (Name) could do as they hyperventilate just outside the forbidden tower, was throw the very thing that caused them so much pain.

They could always find a new one in their room, anyway.

Taking a deep breath, (Name) drew their arm up, readying themselves to hear the shattering of glass and the end of clock hands ticking and to put an end to their panic until--

"Ah! (Name)!" (Name) jumped at the sound of their younger cousin, who stood just at the bottom of the staircase. Mirabel looked nervously between them and Bruno's door, squeezing and twisting the straps of her handmade bag. "I, um... this--"

"S-Sorry! I'll let you go," (Name) stammered, hurriedly rushing down the stairs. The reason for Mirabel's sudden appearance at the forbidden tower didn't even cross their mind. In fact, the only thing they could think about was finding a safer spot to calm down, seeing as how their previous one had been trampled on.

Why did Mirabel have to find their hiding spot? Or, at least, why did Mirabel have to make it known that she found it when she was already there? Why couldn't she have been there on a different day or even a different hour?

Now, (Name) was stuck in their room because there was no other place for them to go. Is this how Dolores felt all the time? Their hearing was severely overstimulated and overwhelmed by the amount of ticking filling their ears. It was all they could hear and it was also the last thing they wanted to hear. They couldn't even throw their pocket watches around and break them to silence the sounds because they would all reappear within a matter of seconds, dangling from their golden chains mockingly.

"Mamá... Papá..." They whimpered to themselves helplessly. As much as they wanted to keep to themselves, keep their issues to themselves, all they wanted was their family. They wanted to feel that comfort they had felt when they were a child again. "Dolores... Camilo... Antonio..."

They knew they looked pathetic, surrounded by torn calendar pages with messy notes scrawled all over them, alone in a ticking room. They knew they needed to get their act together, they always did, but it was so hard to do that when all you could hear was the very thing you wanted to escape from.

They curled more into themselves, their knees digging into their chest and elbows, the heels of their palms slapping and hitting the sides of their head. The dull sound of skin-covered bone against skin-covered bone was a welcome change to the godforsaken ticking.

Their head was starting to hurt a bit now. How long had they been in here, quivering and cowering on the floor? It had to be a long while since someone was knocking on their door.

"(Name)? Can I talk to you for a second?" Ah, Mirabel. (Name) took a shaky breath through their nose, their hands shaking as they pulled away from their head. Instead of immediately standing up, (Name) interlaced their fingers and held their curled fists to their lips, letting out an equally shaky puff of air. Their breath tingled against their skin, providing them a minuscule amount of comfort.

Finally, they pushed themselves up from the ground, plucking another pocket watch from the air and crudely tying it around their neck. They'll fix the chain later, anyway.

"Sorry, Mirabel," (Name) muttered as they opened the door, rubbing their eyes anxiously as they blocked the entrance to their room, hesitant on letting their cousin inside. "What did you need?"

"I just..." Mirabel looked around the hall nervously, her eyes scanning the home in case anyone were eavesdropping. "...wanted to know if you knew anything about Tío Bruno."

(Name) interlaced their fingers once more, twisting their hands enough to barely force their fingers to bend in seemingly unnatural positions. Sure, they used to sit just outside their uncle's room in search of unspoken comfort, but they weren't actually meant to do that. Their family, namely Abuela Alma and Pepa, drilled it into their brain that Bruno was not meant to be thought about, let alone talked about.

"Why?" (Name) questioned, their brows furrowing in confusion. Mirabel should know better than anyone that Bruno was meant to be buried with the rest of the family's secrets, considering Alma's attitude towards her compared to the rest of her grandchildren.

"Just... please answer the question," Mirabel urged, twisting her bag strap.

"Um... We were about the same age when we last saw him, Mirabel," (Name) sighed, slipping out of their room and closing the door behind them, leaning against it. "Let's see... I think he was really tall. Like really tall. I think I went to him for help with my gift? But, that was, like, for a few months before he disappeared. So, I think he was nice? But everyone else says he wasn't, and you know how terrible my memory is, so I think they had a better grasp on who he was."

"Right..." Mirabel muttered in response. From the way she seemed to physically deflate, (Name) was sure she was disappointed.

"Well, well!" (Name) quickly added, fiddling with their pocket watch. "Um, let's see, let's see--Oh! You know, my Papá told me this story about Tío Bruno! Um, from what I remember, Tío Bruno just... freaked out one day! And he and Abuela got into an argument. I don't think Papá heard what was happening until the end. He said... Oh! He said that Tío Bruno said he was leaving!"

"And what happened next?" At least she wasn't disappointed anymore.

"I think Abuela said something like, "If you leave the Casita, you're dead to me!" And then Tío Bruno just... left."

"...Oh." Nevermind. She was now more disappointed than before.

"Uh... that's all I really know," (Name) mumbles, averting their eyes to the ground. They take a deep breath before turning away, creaking their door open. "Sorry I didn't have much to tell you. I'll see you at dinner."

Before Mirabel could say anything, the door closed on her face.

"The Guzmans and the Madrigals together will be so good for the Encanto," Alma beamed, taking her spot at the head of the table.

"Yes, then let's hope tonight is not a horrible disaster," the elder Guzman commented, her grandson nodding alongside her.

"To a perfect night," Alma announced, lifting her glass in a toast. "Salud!"

"Salud!" The rest of the table echoed, mirroring Alma's actions.

(Name) quietly asked for the closest tray, their father happily accepting the request and passing them the food. Silently, they swatted at their older brother's hand as he tried to sneak a few spoonfuls of food off their plate.

This was a dinner that (Name) wasn't particularly looking forward to. They never did find it easy to interact with people at the table, especially guests they had never spoken to before. They knew their family knew that fact, or at least hoped they did, so it wasn't too worrying to them that their demeanor had drastically changed. This, combined with the episode they had not more than a few minutes(?) ago, had forced (Name) into the quiet persona they always adopted in times such as these.

"I assumed that all was well in La Casa Madrigal," they heard the elder Guzman state as the bowl of avocados was passed down the table. "Though, when it comes to my Mariano, it is always best to see for myself."

"Avocado?" (Name) stifled a laugh as they watched Mariano reach over Isabela, who had initially rejected the offer of avocados, towards Mirabel, who let out a growl as she pushed the bowl away.

(Name) heard the familiar sound of light whispering from beside them, prompting them to look over at their siblings. Dolores had quickly retreated from Camilo's ear as he wheezed, his mouth still full of food, and began to shapeshift. His head changed from Mirabel, to a familiar face of Bruno that he often used to tease his younger sibling, and finally, a deformed version of his own face.

"Ay, Camilo," (Name) whispered, lightly elbowing their brother's arm. He turned towards them, his eyes facing different directions. "Pareces un camaleón. Arregla tu cara antes de que la Abuela vea."

Camilo shook his head, his face returning to normal as he stared at Mirabel with wide eyes. (Name) glances over towards Alma, who was quickly pouring more wine into the elder Guzman's cup. Once they go back to picking at their food, Camilo nudges them and pulls on their sleeve.

"Dolores said Mirabel is in Bruno's vision," Camilo whispers into (Name)'s ear. Much like their older brother had, (Name) wheezes as they choke on the food already in their mouth. Camilo and Félix reach over to pat their back.

Unbeknownst to them, (Name)'s gift had begun to act up immediately after Camilo's whisper. Time had rapidly begun to start and stop as if reality were buffering every second. Once time seemed to calm down, (Name) quickly grabbed their pocket watch, staring at the hands ticking every second.

"(Name)," both Camilo and Félix called, the latter pulling out his own pocket watch and holding it next to (Name)'s. Camilo simply drummed his fingers on the table, using his other hand to lightly rub (Name)'s back.

"It's been... five seconds," Camilo points out, earning a quiet hum from (Name).

"Ah... Papá," (Name) mutters after a few moments, lightly tugging on their father's shirt sleeve. Félix takes a sip of his water, leaning close to (Name) as they lean up to whisper in his ear. "Dolores said Mirabel is in Tío Bruno's vision."

As those words leave their mouth, Félix spits out of all his water, causing Mariano to gasp as the liquid lands on his food and his clothes. (Name) quickly hands their father a napkin, who nods in thanks and covers his mouth. (Name) nervously squirms in their seat as their eyes continually dart to and from Mirabel.

"Mirabel," Alma calls out, her smile and voice strained, "the cream, please."

"Pa," Mirabel nervously smiles over at her father, who returns an equally, if not more, shaky grin, "the cream."

When the familiar sound of Pepa's thundering cloud fills the room, (Name) looks over to see Félix whispering the very same thing they had uttered to him to their mother. As the gray cloud continued to grow, (Name) watched with gritted teeth as Alma pointed up to it, doing the thing she always did to their mother.

"Pepa? The cloud..."

"Clear skies, clear skies, clear skies..." Pepa echoes to herself, threading her fingers through her hair. (Name) goes back to their plate, quietly picking at their food once more. They fiddle with their pocket watch, twisting it and letting it spin back to its original position.

"Mirabel...?" Mariano calls hesitantly, causing the girl to yelp as her head hits the bottom of the table. When did she duck under there? "Everything okay?"

"Everything's great," Agustín chimes in, grabbing his daughter's hand. "She's just... excited! FOr you to propose, which you should do as fast as you can--"

"Yes!"

"Uh, I was actually... gonna..." Mariano begins, before being quickly interrupted by Mirabel.

"You were actually gonna! Great!" Mirabel grabs the back of Isabela's chair, roughly turning it to face Mariano.

"Well, well... since everyone here has a talent, my Mariano wanted to begin with a song," Mariano's abuela explains, lightly tapping her grandson's cheek. "Luisa, could you bring over the piano?"

"...Okay," Luisa sobs, covering her face as she disappears to retrieve the instrument.

"Uh, it's actually family tradition to sing after," Mirabel points out, rushing over to turn Mariano's chair and throw him off it onto his knee.

"...Isabela," Mariano begins, slowly pulling out a box from his pocket. "Most graceful of all the Madrigals--"

Mirabel interrupts the beginning of the speech by launching herself onto the floor, positioning herself in a strange pose, shooting the group an awkward grin as she nods, "You're doing great."

"The most perfect flower in this entire Encanto--"

Another interruption, this time by Luisa. She manages to drag the first leg of the piano over the ledge entering the room, throwing her body over the top of it to sob intensely.

"...in this entire Encanto," Mariano repeats, now opening the box to reveal the ring. Isabela is scrunching up the fabric of her dress, a painfully forced smile on her face as her eyes flicker between Mariano and the ring. "Will you... marry me?"

Luisa, who had continued to try and pull the piano into the room, falls to the ground in another pile of sobs. Pepa's cloud begins to grow over the table, the thundering worsening every second. Antonio's toucan, who had taken refuge in the cabinet against the wall, lets out a frightened squawk and dives down towards Mariano's abuela, who luckily ducks before it crashes into her forehead.

"What is happening?!" She shouts as more birds begin to fly around the room. Antonio's pleas towards his animals seem to do nothing to quell the fear present in their small bodies. Camilo quickly ducks his head, pressing his hands against the top of his head as he cowers from the panicked birds. (Name) finds themselves staring down at their pocket watch as time continues to start and stop once more. Tears begin to fill their eyes as their brain fails to comprehend the position of the clock's hands, each tick becoming more confusing than the last.

"Mirabel found Bruno's vision, she's in it, she's gonna destroy the magic and now we're all doomed!" Dolores hollers, her palms pressed against her ears. Mirabel finally climbs out from underneath the desk, pushing a tray with a green tablet across the tabletop towards Alma. (Name) barely registers the events happening around them, keeping their eyes on the pocket watch while their family turns to look at Mirabel.

Before she could say anything in her defense, the house begins to crack, just as she had said days before during Antonio's gift ceremony. The cracks begin from behind Mirabel, spreading out to cover the rest of the walls.

Dolores covers her ears and her face scrunched up in pain. Camilo finds himself rapidly shapeshifting, his clothes changing to one of the older men in Encanto while his body changes into a small baby with a mustache. Pepa hurriedly brushes her hair over her shoulder, glancing up at the growing cloud nervously. Cracks form below Isabela, causing her to shoot a bundle of vines up to slam into Mariano's nose.

And (Name) watches as the catastrophe unfolds, each second doubled as their gift freezes and unfreezes time.

"Fe...li...ci...da...des!" The cheer from the townsfolk outside is chopped up into syllables from (Name)'s perspective, time still moving in chunks instead of its usual flow. Rain begins to pour in chunks as well, allowing (Name) a second of peace before being bombarded by a second of rain.

(Name) continues to tremble as their family robotically (from their point of view, at least) get up from the table, rushing after the fleeing Guzmans. (Name) barely registers the light touches of their father and siblings on their back, shoulders, and arms, or their quiet whispers of reassurance.

The second youngest Madrigal from Pepa's side of the family often thought of themselves as the black sheep of the siblings, isolated from the rest of the family but specifically their siblings. And, sure, that thought held some sort of truth. (Name) was never really one to step up and speak to their siblings since they never really knew how to talk to them. But they weren't as isolated as they thought they were.

Dolores, as always, could hear the moments when (Name) curled up in their room or by their missing uncle's door, heaving as panicked breaths and heavy sobs escaped their lips. Camilo, just like (Name), had an innate ability to discern something from his younger sibling. He was able to see the little tells they had when something had been bothering them.

His eyes always caught on when they would fiddle with the pocket watch hanging around their neck or when they retreated into themselves when around family or the rest of the Encanto. He knew but he never knew how to approach the topic. He had tried to make them laugh, to distract their overthinking mind from the current situation, but that tactic slowly stopped working as (Name) retreated further and further from him. And he hated that. All he wanted was his younger sibling back.

Antonio, although he had only held memories from about two or three years ago, when (Name) was only twelve or thirteen and he was only two or three, had understood that these moments were unfortunately normal for his older sibling. He grew up knowing (Name) as the silent sibling, more so than even Dolores was. He only acted based on instinct around them, cuddling up to them whenever he could as to treasure the rare moments of familial bonding.

Félix had watched as his child grew up, almost devolving into more of a child than they had been before their gift ceremony. Their attitude had not changed around him, they had always remained close to him. He didn't mind that, what he minded was that they seemed to be losing the precious relationships they could have with their siblings. That had always been his reason for stepping in and pushing their boundaries, hoping to eventually mend the relations he wanted them to cherish when they got older.

"(Name), mi corazón, mi vida," Félix cooed, sliding his hand down their head in a reassuring pat, hoping his voice would reach (Name)'s ears, "We're right here. There's nothing to worry about, okay? Respira hondo por mí."

"Están temblando mucho, Papá..." Camilo lets out a quiet whimper, pressing his face against (Name)'s shoulder.

"I know, I know, Camilo," Félix hums in response, letting out a quiet sigh of relief as he feels (Name) trembling lessen ever so slightly. "There you go, (Name). Just like that."

None of them were sure if (Name) would remember this moment, this unfortunate chance they had to mend their crumbling relationship. They hoped they would because they wanted, no, needed them to know that they would always be here. No matter what happens, they were a family and they would always be here to help.

taglist: @alexloveskili @lolalee24 @mraes @crispycookiegiantpalace @thelovehashira143 @mythicalamphitrite @merymikey

[jingerhead]

Hiiii! Bless you for this but literally andriel with any of these 4/10/11/12/15 would be both amazing and hysterical <3

I WAS WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO GIVE THIS ONE AH this is why yall shouldn't let me pick SJSJJS (i don't know film language stuff let's just go with it)

4 - undeniable chemistry between the two lead actors in the worst hallmark movie ever

Andrew did not think the first time he'd star as both a lead actor and in a gay role would be in a romance film. Not only that, but a fucking Hallmark movie. His agent had gotten him to audition because people always watched them - somehow, Andrew has no idea how, because each one seems more soul-sucking than the last - and this would be the first gay Hallmark movie. It was a way to get his name out there.

Though he'd rather have his dignity instead.

He'd already known that the writers had no idea how to write a genuine love story, but they seemed even more clueless about how to write a gay love story, because every time Andrew read the script he wanted to gag. It was about a college graduate who just accepted his sexuality moving to a whole new city and clashing with his boss, who he'd later fall in love with. The concept wasn't the worst, but the dialogue...Whoever thought a gay man would say, "I've made a mistake. I need to listen to my heart!" shouldn't be allowed to write a gay romance.

The one good thing about taking this role was the person playing Andrew's love interest: Neil Josten, who hated this movie just as much as Andrew did. They had a tense relationship when filming first started, but then one day they were reading over their scripts while waiting for the set to be ready and Neil, very suddenly, almost spit out his tea.

"You're not wrapping it right, you need to make the corners smoother?" he'd said through gritted teeth. "Are we going to have a gift wrapping scene where you come out?"

Andrew had looked at the script and quickly determined that, yeah, they were going to have that very scene. "I don't like straight edges," he'd said in the most deadpan voice he could.

"I'm not into straight edges either," Neil had read. "I'm going to throw up."

Something had sparked between them that day, and they had grown close as the filming went on. The movie was horrible, and they both ruthlessly tore it apart from the comfort of their trailers when they met up every night. They were something like friends, but the more time they spent together, the more Andrew realized he was attracted to Neil.

It was getting a bit out of hand. The two had just decided to act their hearts out, somehow making the horrible dialogue work and even improvising at points that the director didn't seem to hate. But the teasing tones, barely-there touches and single kiss had finally led to this moment, when Andrew's character made the choice not to return home for the holidays and instead rush to the apartment Neil's character lived in and confess his feelings. Outside. In the snow.

This was their last scene to film together, and then they'd do some interviews and promotions for the movie before going their separate ways. Andrew had Neil's number, but he wanted more than Neil's number, and he wasn't sure how to say it. He'd memorized what he had to say for today's scene, and the words the writers had written for his character to say didn't come anywhere close to what Andrew wanted to say to Neil now.

"Alright, positions!" the director shouted.

Next to him, Neil stood up, shivering once before he zipped up the thin jacket he was wearing. It was nearing midnight, the temperatures falling quickly with each hour. There was a light fall of snow that wasn't too heavy, just enough to create whatever magical scene the director had in mind.

"Well, let's get this over with," Neil mumbled, nodding towards the area he and Andrew were going to stand for the cameras.

Andrew hummed, getting to his feet and resisting the urge to pull the hat he had to wear over his ears. It felt too loosely placed at the back of his head, but it was right where the costume designer wanted it, so he trusted the bobby pins to keep it in place as he walked to his starting position down the street. Andrew would rush to the entrance of Neil's character's apartment, where they'd run into each other and have a romantic confession.

If the dialogue could in any way be considered romantic.

"Quiet on set!" the director yelled, waiting a few seconds before calling, "Action!"

Andrew stuffed his hands in his pockets and rushed down the sidewalk that had already been salted to get rid of any ice. His breath fogged in the cold air as he reached the steps Neil was walking down, pretending to be breathing heavily as though he'd been running. Neil stopped walking down the steps, and they spent a moment staring at each other.

"You're here," Neil said, as though he was surprised.

Andrew took a moment to pretend to get control of his breathing. "Where are you going?" he asked, pointing to the keys visible in Neil's hand.

Neil glanced down at the keys, as though he'd forgotten they were there. "To find you," he said, looking back up and squaring his shoulders.

"Well, I'm here," Andrew said, but he didn't move to walk up the steps. He waited for Neil to step down them, one by one, until they were on the same ground.

"Why'd you come back?" Neil asked.

"I..." Andrew let himself trail off, unable to look away from Neil's eyes. They'd had many moments when they were close like this, but this time felt different. Or maybe Andrew was just convincing himself it felt that way. "I forgot to tell you something."

"Well, I'm all ears," Neil said, giving the trademark cocky smirk his character always seemed to use.

Andrew took in a quiet breath. "I didn't mean it when I said I hated you," he said. "I'm sorry."

"It's in the past," Neil waved off.

"No." Andrew shivered once, the cold air getting to him the longer he stood still. "It's...it's the opposite. I don't hate you. I was scared, but not anymore."

Neil took a step closer. There was barely any space between them. "Then what do you think of me?"

The next line was...the worst. Andrew swallowed once before saying it. "I think I love you," he said.

Neil's smile got wider. He reached up and pretended to brush some snow away from Andrew's hair. "I know I do," he whispered.

They waited as the director finally called for them to kiss. It wasn't awkward to kiss Neil, it felt electrifying, only dimmed with the knowledge that this was their job. It was their job was to kiss each other. Andrew wanted to kiss Neil alone, with no cameras or sets or people to see them.

"Alright, cut!" the director finally called. The two separated, Andrew unable to tear his eyes away from Neil's for a moment. "Let's run it back for a second take, positions!"

Neil was warm, enough that Andrew missed it when he had to return to his position down the sidewalk. Who knew how many more times the director would want to do that scene, how many times Andrew would have to kiss Neil for everyone else to be satisfied. A seething part of him wanted to grab Neil's hand and run from the set to finally have some privacy, time for themselves so that he could ask Neil if he wanted more, just like Andrew did.

He still felt that when the director called action, walking down the sidewalk with a bit more speed than the first time, genuinely feeling out of breath by the time he reached the stairs Neil was standing at the top of. "You're here," Neil said again, just as surprised as the first time.

"Where are you going?" Andrew asked again, looking at the keys.

"To find you," Neil said, shifting forward on the step he was on.

Would he do that after they went their separate ways? Would Neil go looking for him if they spent too much time apart, too many miles away? Would Andrew drive to find him and confess in the freezing cold, needing Neil to know exactly how he felt before it was too late? Before there was too much distance there?

...maybe the writers weren't the worst.

Neil started to walk down a step. Andrew felt his heart pounding more quickly, like he was still running down that sidewalk. "Stop," he said, raising a hand. Neil immediately froze, eyebrows furrowing in clear concern that Andrew wasn't sure was him acting or not. "Just - stay there. And shut up."

The director didn't shout to cut, which meant he was waiting to see what improv Andrew would do today. Lord knew it was always better than what the script said.

"From the moment we met, I couldn't stand you, because I knew this would happen. You'd make me want something that I'm not supposed to have, for something I can't ask of you. I hate you so much for making me feel that way." Andrew paused, trying to figure out what else to say when there were so many people around. "I can't stand being around you, but the idea of being apart is so much worse."

Did Neil know that this was, more or less, an actual confession? His eyes lit up and he was smiling genuinely, not like his character always did. "You like me?" he asked, breathlessly, like he couldn't believe it.

"I hate you," Andrew corrected, glaring.

"Can I come down there?" Neil asked.

Andrew nodded after a second, and Neil hopped down the steps until they were on the sidewalk together, facing each other. Neil reached one hand up towards Andrew's hair, maintaining eye contact the whole time as he brushed away some snow. "I must mean quite a bit for you to drive all the way back here to tell me that," he said.

"You have a hearing problem," Andrew said back, Neil's warmth seeping into his bones with how close they were now. "Can you read lips?"

"If you tell me I can," Neil said, glancing down at Andrew's lips once. He didn't move forward, even after a few tense seconds. It was impossible to misunderstand what he was saying.

"Yes," Andrew said, reaching up to grip the back of Neil's neck, easily bringing them in for a kiss. It didn't last long, because there were people around and this was being filmed for a goddamn Hallmark movie, and Andrew would much rather kiss Neil senseless in the comfort of his own home.

When they drew away, Neil raised one hand to press his fingertips to Andrew's cheekbone, the other hanging by his side. Then, he glanced upwards. "Snow," he said, grinning. "It's a Christmas miracle."

The line was so gross Andrew had to roll his eyes and then kiss Neil again until the director called to cut the scene, but the two still stuck close as they reviewed footage and lightly scolded the two for the improv. "Alright, one more take, on script," the director ordered. "Positions!"

It took another few seconds for Andrew to take a step back from Neil, feeling cold immediately. They kept watching each other as they walked back to their places, both knowing they were going to talk that night. And hopefully kiss for real, if it went the right way.