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ihavemanyhusbands · 24 days ago

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Memento Vivere

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Part I // Part II // Mini-Series Masterlist

Pairing: Lucius Verus Aurelius x Fem!Reader

WC: 4.1k words

Summary: Rome is in disarray. Macrinus has been trying to seize power and therefore, he decides to use you as collateral. But Lucius won't let him win so easily.

Warnings: MINORS DNI this fic is 18+, canon events with canon divergence (so, potentially spoilers), graphic depictions of violence, mentions of blood and death, abduction, angst (but there's a happy ending!), reader is a courtesan (SW), fluffy smut, unprotected p in v, 69, typical roman wedding customs, some historical inaccuracies potentially, aaaand i think that’s it! But lmk if anything else.

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"Love conquers all; therefore, let us submit to love."

–Virgil.

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The pounding came late at night, when the moon had disappeared in preparation for the dawn. The raucous sound startled you awake from a dream you immediately forgot, leaving you dazed and slightly panicked. Prima, your chambermaid, hastily draped a cloak over your shoulders and accompanied you to the front of the house to investigate.

The iron gates seemed to shake from the sheer power of the knocking, as if a battering ram was being used. The courtyard was shadowed except for a few small torches and in that moment, you couldn’t help but believe anything could be lurking in the darkness. Gallus, who guarded the entrance, motioned with one hand for you and Prima to stay where you were.

Fear curdled icily in your stomach and you clutched Prima’s arm as Gallus undid the giant latch that held the gates closed. He partially opened one of them, but as soon as he did, a trio of brawny men barreled inside.

One of them, quick as a flash, drew his sword and drove it into Gallus’ chest. He let out a gurgling sound and collapsed, immediately dead. Prima screamed, but you were frozen in shock, a sob clogging in your throat. The other two men started to menacingly make their way towards you, quickly closing the distance.

You shoved Prima back towards the hallway, stepping in front of her protectively.

“Run,” you urged her. “Save yourself!”

She hesitated for a moment, but then her self-preservation instincts took over and she darted into the darkness of the house. Luckily, none of them pursued her, but they weren’t there for her, after all.

The two men reached you, each clutching one of your arms and dragging you to the entrance. Your heart was pounding like a war drum in your chest, everything coming into sharper focus as adrenaline kicked in. You couldn’t bring yourself to ask who they were or where they were taking you, too afraid they might become more aggressive.

Outside the gate, there were a few more men holding torches, all of them surrounding a man on a pale horse. The rider removed the hood of his cloak and it was none other than Macrinus, Lucius’ master.

“A little bird has told me that one of my gladiators holds you in high regard,” he said by way of greeting, his smile a thin veneer of friendliness. “My champion, as you might recall…”

You dipped your chin in assent, knowing it was futile to lie. His men were restless as if waiting for an excuse to intervene, and you wouldn’t give it to them if you could help it.

“Well, as it happens, I am now in need of some help keeping him in check,” he said, his words less like an invitation and more of a command. “If you would be so kind as to come with us.”

You swallowed hard, nodding once more. “I-if I may ask… Where are we going?”

“Oh, you needn’t worry about that.” He waved off the question dismissively. “You’ll be perfectly safe in my care.”

You hesitated for a moment before inclining your head, trying to seem polite despite the tremor in your voice. “Of course, I–thank you.”

He held out his heavily ringed hand for you to take and swiftly pulled you onto his horse in front of him. You cast one last fretful glance back at your house as if to commit it to memory. What if you never returned?

No, you couldn’t think like that. You’d do whatever it took to see things through and come out alive on the other side. You could play the game… Whatever it was. But if Lucius was on the line, what exactly was expected of you?

“Hold on tightly, now,” Macrinus said close to your ear, making your skin crawl. “Wouldn’t want you to fall.”

He spurred his horse into a wild gallop, the darkened streets of Rome blurring together as they flew past you. The sun was just beginning to rise in the horizon, slowly bleeding crimson and gold.

It could be no coincidence that just the day before, General Acacius had been executed by the Praetorian guard after Lucius had chosen to grant him mercy. You couldn’t be sure what either of them was planning, but Lucius had to be enough of a threat to warrant some collateral. Perhaps Macrinus even thought you might have some idea of what his next move would be.

Anxiousness knotted in your chest as you stared straight ahead. Perhaps if you played your part well enough, you might not just save yourself, but you might also help Lucius, too. All that was left to do was wait.

—-----------------

Outside, the Roman populace was rioting. The fires throughout the city had doubled after the fate of Queen Lucilla was announced. It was no surprise, given their adoration for her and the former General Acasius. That was working in her and Lucius’ favor, but it was also working in Macrinus’s, if things went according to his plans. Things were in a rather precarious position in Rome. Emperor Geta was already dead, and nobody was too keen on the idea of Caracalla having sole power.

Lucius and his mother met a few days prior to form a plan to defeat Macrinus, and they relied on the element of surprise. Lucius hadn’t summoned you in some time, wanting to keep you away from danger, but he had still tried to send you a couple of messages with Ravi. Much to his dismay, though, he had received no response. He feared that you might be angry at him, but it wasn’t until Viggo boasted about your capture, taunting him, that he found out the truth.

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Lucius drove his sword into the face of the man who had tried so hard to break him on the training grounds. He could endure his attempts to humiliate him, the sharp bite of the whip tearing open his back, and the leering grins at his suffering. But he could not bear the thought of him laying a single hand on you.

And still, even after killing him, his rage was not quelled. It would carry him through the rest of the day, like a purifying, righteous flame.

His fellow gladiators disposed of the rest of their captors, and now they waited to enact Lucius’ plan. He stalked out on the sand, approaching the sacrificial altar where his mother and the senators who had conspired with her were tied. Senator Gracchus was among them, his hunched form and frightened expression like a dagger piercing your heart. Queen Lucilla, for her part, kept her chin raised high, a serenely dignified expression on her face. She would not go down afraid in the face of her enemies.

Lucius looked to the Emperor’s box and momentarily halted in his steps as he spotted you. Beside you, Macrinus smiled, wide and cruel. He had deliberately kept you hidden until that moment, when he knew it would be an irresistible distraction to Lucius. You tried to shake your head imperceptibly, but you knew it’d be impossible for him to see at such a great distance.

A scream threatened to crawl up your throat, but you stayed perfectly still, your expression neutral. You could betray nothing in that moment, or it might cost you both everything. Fortuna, I beg you, bless him with your favor once more…

Lucius’ rage was incandescent, blazing through him like sunlight itself. Everything else seemed to disappear and he became like the edge of a well-honed blade – the vision of the god Apollo. He raised his sword and pointed it directly at Macrinus – both a promise and a threat. Only one of them would still live by the end of the day.

The master of ceremonies announced what the games would consist of – Lucius would be the sole fighter to defend his mother and the senators from the Praetorian guard. They rode into the arena at the sound of trumpets, the thunderous noise of horses' hooves pounding on the sand reverberating through you. Your vision went dark for a moment and you thought you might faint, but then you felt an arm slip around your shoulders.

“I want you to watch closely now,” Macrinus said, voice low and close to your ear. “This is what happens to those who go against my will.”

You watched as the soldiers circled closer and closer. An archer among them loosed an arrow that pierced through Senator Gracchus’ throat, blood spurting from his mouth like a gruesome fountain. You whimpered, feeling like air had been punched out of your lungs. Tears rapidly welled in your eyes as your patron fell to his knees, dead within seconds. Macrinus’ grip on your shoulders tightened, gripping your chin with his free hand when you tried to glance away.

At his throne, Emperor Caracalla clapped excitedly over the first death of the spectacle. His pet monkey climbed onto his shoulders, chittering anxiously at all the commotion. With one last menacing look, Macrinus let go of your shoulders and stepped behind the throne to get a better look. Beneath your cloak, your fingers brushed over the small knife you’d stolen from the kitchen at Macrinus’ estate. You sent another prayer to Nemesis, goddess of revenge, so that your hand wouldn’t falter if you were forced to use it.

In the arena, Lucius jumped onto the platform where his mother stood and let out a fierce roar, raising his sword in the air. His battle cry was echoed by the dozens of gladiators that suddenly flooded the arena, immediately engaging the soldiers in a fierce melee.

Mayhem ensued as the crowd grew wild and rapidly uncontrollable. The people surged forward like a tempestuous tide, fighting back against the Praetorian guards who were meant to keep things under control. Macrinus saw his opportunity in the chaos and slipped a needle-like knife into Caracalla’s ear, killing him. His monkey leaped away, terrified, and lost itself in the commotion.

You stumbled backward, aghast, as Macrinus took the bow of the guard nearest him and fired down into the arena. Unthinking, you unsheathed the knife for protection and fled while he was still turned away. You heard his furious scream and his pounding footsteps in pursuit of you, but soon you were met with the angry Roman mob.

You glanced over your shoulder, weighing your options, and decided your chances were better if you lost yourself in the crowd. You fought your way through, not letting anything or anyone stop you. Your heart was racing and your breaths were coming out in harsh pants, but no one really paid attention to you. You were jostled and thrown about, but that seemed to be the worst of it.

Macrinus gave up pursuit rather quickly, instead stealing a horse and fleeing towards Ostia, where he would meet his fate. As for Lucius, you had faith in his strength, in the fury that drove him forward. The best thing you could do was find somewhere to hide, at least until things settled down some. He could not have any more distractions now, in the most crucial moment.

And so, you ran.

—-------------------------------------

Countless hours later, after defeating Macrinus in a duel where the fate of Rome was at stake, Lucius revealed his true identity, his grandfather’s ring back on his finger. But he did not stay long to revel in his victory, instead riding back into the city at breakneck speed. He searched the busy streets for you with the desperation of a man who had already lost everything, but was not willing to go through it again. The rage was dissipating into panic, but he wouldn’t let himself succumb to it.

You were praying in a small temple of Fortuna when you heard his hoarse voice calling out your name, the sound growing closer. You threw off your hood and dashed into the street, seeing him in the near distance atop his horse, frantically looking about. Relief at seeing him alive, though bruised and bloodied, flooded through you. You could almost fall to your knees in gratitude, a great weight lifting off your shoulders.

“Lucius!” You called out, waving your arms above your head so he may spot you. “Lucius, over here!”

Finally, he saw you, his expression nearly crumbling with relief. People moved out of the way to let him through, curiously taking in the scene. By the time he reached you, you noticed your face was wet with tears, but you were unable to stop smiling. He let out a breathy laugh, overjoyed, and pulled you onto his horse. He caught you halfway and kissed you deeply, not stopping even as you murmured thank you, thank you, thank you against his lips like a prayer.

Then he seemed to remember where you were, with dozens surrounding you, and he knew he had to get you out of there. He leaned his forehead against yours for a moment, barely able to believe his immense fortune. He mentally thanked anyone who might be listening for bringing you back to his side, and he kissed the tip of your nose.

“I told you you’d be the first one I’d run to,” he said, helping you settle in front of him. “We must go, the streets are not safe yet.”

You nodded, pressing closer to him. You didn’t even need to ask where he was taking you, for you would go with him anywhere. To the ends of the earth and beyond, until you were just two shades in Hades, indistinguishable from one another.

He spurred his horse, navigating it up the road and away from the more condensed areas of the city. Soon the cloying smell of smoke and the constant shouting disappeared behind you like a distant nightmare. The clean mountain air revitalized you, finally making you feel a little more at ease. We really did it. We made it through.

When you reached the outskirts of the forest near a cliffside, he finally stopped. The view was breathtaking, the sunset seeming to stretch on infinitely, painting the entire sky in swaths of orange and pink. It was quiet except for a soft breeze, with no one around for miles to intrude in your little pocket of paradise. He dismounted first, but you jumped into his arms before he could help you down, practically tackling him to the ground.

He laughed and you kissed him, letting him roll you onto your back on the bed of grass. Hands roamed over each other’s bodies with a certain urgency, ascertaining your solidity. You arched against him and he clutched you to him as if his life depended on it, moving to kiss your face and neck.

“I should have known,” he said, his anger self-directed. “I should have done more to keep you safe, I-”

“No use dwelling on what could have been when I am here now, safe in your arms.” You caressed his hair gently, trying to soothe him.

“But what if you weren’t?” he said, stopping to look at you. “I would never forgive myself for it. I would have followed you immediately.”

“Lucius, please…” you tried to protest, but he turned his face to kiss your palm, laying it against his cheek. “The threat is gone. You have defeated Macrinus. There is nothing to fear.”

For a moment, there was torment written on his features, like a long-buried memory had come to haunt him. His eyes scanned your face, searching for comfort in your loveliness — the delicate curve of your cupid’s bow, the slope of your nose, the fan of your lashes against your cheekbones when you blinked. Your gentle gaze, especially, and those soft lips that curved in a smile whenever he was around. He could never grow tired of looking at you.

For the first time in a long, long time, he could see a future ahead of him, waiting with open arms. Without you, it was just not there, and that was why he was still so distressed. He couldn’t fathom being separated from you and he had been foolish not to realize it sooner. He had been stubborn about his feelings, thinking it was better to keep you at arm’s length just to save you. And all for what?

“What is it?” You prompted, gently smoothing out his frown with your fingers, bringing him out of his thoughts.

“Will you marry me?” He asked.

You immediately sat up, making him pull back with you. You opened and closed your mouth, shocked beyond words. For a moment, you even thought you had imagined him asking that. His eyebrows raised slightly, nervous but expectant.

“Marry you,” You repeated breathlessly, blinking at him. “You want to make an honest woman out of me, is that it?”

“Not just that.” He chuckled. “But an Emperor’s wife, too.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

He showed you his ring, which featured the profile of Marcus Aurelius, his grandfather. Every last piece of the puzzle seemed to click into place then, but it would take some more time for it to fully sink in. You stared at the ring, completely awestruck, and bent your head to kiss it as if by reflex.

“Lucius, I… Is this what you really want?” You asked, not letting go of his hand. “I am just not sure that I’m, you know…”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say the word worthy, but he caught your meaning anyway. His fingers squeezed yours reassuringly, making you look into his eyes.

“I have never been more certain of anything,” he said. “I would argue you are deserving of better than me. I am not a man without faults, or history, as you well know.”

You shook your head as if he was foolish to worry about such things. It wasn’t like you didn’t have any faults or regrets of your own. You’d already had enough sleepless nights being tormented by them, as you knew he had been. No person had nothing they wouldn’t like to be forgiven for.

“Well, you are plenty enough for me,” you said softly. “Faults and all.”

“As are you,” he said, returning the gesture of worship and respect by kissing your hand. “I want nothing more. I need nothing more. Just you.”

“Then it is no question, really.” You smiled, on the brink of tears again. “I will happily marry you, Lucius Verus Aurelius.”

Finally, the dark cloud lifted from his expression, and his smile was even more beautiful than the sunset coming to an end behind him. Now it was him who tackled you back onto the ground and you thought he might devour you, his lips intent on not leaving one inch of your skin unkissed.

—-------------------------------------

The ceremony was kept small and intimate, but you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. It was an auspicious June day, warm and pleasant, with no clouds in the sky. The air was perfumed with the smell of fresh cut flowers, as there were dozens of arrangements set up all around. Fountains babbled in the gardens, accompanying the echo of your excited voices.

As was custom, Lucius chased you around the halls of the palace in a mock kidnapping. You could not stop laughing, exhilarated, a thrill dancing down your spine any time you looked over your shoulder to see him giving chase. When he finally caught you, he threw you over his shoulder and carried you to a lectus that overlooked the gardens.

Your veil and wreath came off first as he laid you down on the plush cushions, hair fanning out over them. You helped each other out of your clothes, eager to have nothing between you. When Lucius’ toga was off, you admired his body, running your hands over the hard planes of his stomach and up to his chest.

He cupped the back of your neck and brought your lips to his greedily. The slide of his warm skin against yours was heavenly, only making you want more and more of him, forever. It was still surreal that what had so recently become a dream of yours was now a reality. You would always thank Fortuna for that.

But that made you remember something you’d been wanting to bring up, except there had not been any opportunity before. You hoped it wouldn’t ruin the moment, but it could wait no longer.

“Lucius?” You said between kisses.

“Yes, my love?”

You pulled back to look him in the eye, setting your hands on his shoulders.

“Um,” you began nervously, swallowing hard. “I know what our duties are but… Would it be so terrible to enjoy our marriage by ourselves just a little while longer?”

He caught your meaning immediately, nodding reassuringly as he placed his palm on the small of your back.

“I am in no rush if you are not,” he said without hesitation, not minding the idea one bit.

He’d been having similar thoughts about it for the past couple of days, anyway, and he was glad you’d been the one to bring it up. You smiled at him gratefully, sighing with relief. His eyes dropped to your lips once more, their lure nearly irresistible.

“My wife is a greedy little thing, wanting to keep me all to herself.”

You chuckled salaciously as he ran his thumb over your bottom lip. “Can you blame me?”

He shook his head, watching as you teasingly bit his thumb, licking the pad of it. He let out a breathy groan and you pushed him onto his back, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down his chest. His hips jerked as your lips passed his navel, and with the flat of your tongue, you teased the velvety underside of his hard cock.

You heard his sharp intake of breath, followed by him sighing your name. You continued to tease and lick him, making him whimper, his eyes pleading for more when you looked into them. You took him into your mouth and his head tipped back in pleasure, exposing the column of his throat.

“Come here,” he rasped deliriously. “I need to taste you, too.”

You complied with no protest, only extricating yourself to reposition. You swung a leg over his head to straddle his face, leaning your body forward so you could take his cock in your mouth once more. His tongue lapped at your inner thigh, which was glistening with your arousal. You shuddered, moaning around him.

You pushed your hips back as he traced the tip of his tongue through your folds, groaning at the taste of you. The tips of your fingers brushed his sac as you sucked on the sensitive tip of his cock, and he felt as if he might go wild at that moment.

His fingers, in turn, dipped into your cunt, preparing you for him. It became like a game, trying to get the other to come first. He won first, but he wasn’t far behind, and he marveled at the fact that you swallowed every drop. From then on, things were a lot more frenzied.

Hours passed without either of you noticing. There were only a few breaks in between, but otherwise, you and Lucius explored every possible position on and around the couch. It was perhaps the longest wedding night in history, with nothing to hold you back any longer. Except for maybe physical exhaustion, which set in when the sun was beginning to rise on a new dawn.

The two of you lay naked, holding each other close, while you watched the sky lighten. The morning was ripe with possibility, Rome feeling like an entirely different realm. Fear had reigned for so long that peace was still a new luxury, but not one you took for granted.

At that moment, before the day really started and you both had to face your new responsibilities, all you wanted was to commit the first moments of your marriage to memory. The matching rings on your interlocked fingers, the adoring look in Lucius’ heavy-lidded eyes, and the mutual promise to take care of each other for the rest of your days.

“Get some rest, my love,” you murmured, caressing his face. “You’ll need your strength.”

“I shall only sleep if I’ll see you in my dreams,” he murmured, trying to sound playful, but his eyes were already closed.

You chuckled, kissing his forehead. “And when you wake up, you’ll see it wasn’t a dream after all.”

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Finis.

#lucius verus x reader #lucius verus x you #lucius verus fanfiction #gladiator fanfiction #lucius verus smut #lucius verus #x reader #minors dni

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theinnerunderrain · 8 months ago

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Flowers only bloom when the sun comes out [Yan! Prince x Fem! Maid-Reader]

Warnings: Yandere themes, child neglect, mentions of suggestive behaviors and lustful behaviors, manipulative thoughts, etc.

Miserable.

Prince Cassian would choose "miserable" as the precise term to depict his fragile existence. Born a prince into a mighty kingdom, his father ruled with an iron fist and unwavering will. Yet, despite his royal lineage, his life felt devoid of meaning, a constant struggle in the shadows of his father's reign. Maybe his father held Cassian accountable, at least in part, for the death of his beloved queen. Perhaps that's why he was abandoned to decay in the queen's once-grand residence, where dust settled like a shroud, paint flaked from the walls, and sinister spiders claimed every corner.

However, the king, perhaps out of lingering kindness or a trace of pity, permitted servants to attend to the prince. Yet, few were inclined to care for a forsaken prince; servants came and went as the boy matured into a young man. Initially, some felt sympathy for him, but they soon departed upon realizing there was no benefit. Others, driven by greed, chipped away at the scant jewelry and valuables left in the building before absconding to sell them in the market. His existence drifted aimlessly, filled with endless hours staring out his window or sipping the bitter tea his younger sister, kind but unaware of his plight, managed to sneak to him.

It all seemed so pointless.

Then, one day, you appeared. A young maid, your smile radiant and your enthusiasm palpable as you embarked on this new job. He couldn't help but feel sorry for you, knowing that your optimism would soon be crushed once you discovered the reality of serving a prince like him, someone you might deem unworthy of your efforts. Every day, he observed you closely, noting your tireless efforts and how your face, though marked by exhaustion from tasks meant for many, retained a composed and bright demeanor.

He found himself admiring your diligent work ethic, transforming his once bitter teatime into a sweeter experience as you mastered the art of brewing it just right. The clothes he wore now carried a scent of softness, feeling gentle against his skin, a stark contrast to the past when they often felt itchy and smelled of sweat. The garden flourished with the flowers you tended to, and his bedroom felt fresh and inviting, as if it were truly lived in. Your presence became a source of comfort for him. He enjoyed your greetings each morning, your smiles making him feel truly alive, reminding him of his own humanity.

He felt a growing desire to be near you, craving the comfort of your presence. He longed to bask in the warmth of your soft smile, to feel the gentle touch of your hand as you helped him dress. He treasured the moments when you enveloped him in warmth on cold, restless nights haunted by memories of his mother. Your gentle fingers combing through his hair brought a soothing calmness to his troubled mind. He delighted in teasing you during work hours, reveling in the sight of your face blushing a deep scarlet as his hands playfully found their way to your waist, causing you to momentarily lose your grip on the dustpan before scolding him.

He likes you.

Well, he didn't just like you. He was consumed by you, obsessed with every thought of you, you, you.

He yearned to be enveloped in your essence, to drown in your intoxicating fragrance, to be devoured whole by you. He craved for your lips to consume his, for your touch to consume his skin, for every part of him to be consumed by you. He was acutely aware that his thoughts about you would be deemed sinful by the church, yet he couldn't help but question God's justice in abandoning him for a crime he didn't commit. Considering your background as a commoner's daughter, burdened with constant toil, he doubted you had any prior experience with men, leading him to wonder if he might be your first.

He hoped you preferred younger men, despite his slight age difference. He vowed to bring you pleasure so intense that it would bring tears to your eyes. With your face flushed in red with his hands tracing over the curve of your body, admiring the plumpness of your swollen breast. The way your supple body would quiver and twitch with every flick of his tongue against your adorable clit, with your soft thighs grappling around his head much like soft pillows.

Ah, perhaps he shouldn't be thinking of such lustful matters.

Anyway, he was acutely aware that as a powerless and forgotten prince, his presence posed a constant danger to himself and those close to him. His older siblings, viewing him as a potential threat to the throne, could easily target him. He contemplated two options: either showing up at the King's castle, pleading with his father to take him back, or fleeing with you to another country. The idea of living as a commoner didn't seem so daunting, considering his current life despite his royal title. Yet, a third, more manipulative thought crept into his mind—perhaps he could exploit his younger sister's naivety to regain entry to the main palace, using her pity as a means to an end.

He believed that in the end, whatever sacrifices were necessary to attain the power to keep you would be worthwhile.

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imsandra · 3 months ago

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A breath

Pairing: Azriel x female reader

Summary: In the silent embrace of the night, Azriel found in Y/N the comfort he never knew he needed.

Warning: Fluffy comfort, I think that's it.

Word count: 1120

Notes: I believe many creators have written similar pieces, so this may not be a new concept. Feel free to leave your comments, suggestions; everything is welcome as long as it's with the intention of teaching and with respect.

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any spelling or grammar issues.

Original story, written by me. Please do not copy or plagiarize my work.

I appreciate any comments, reblogs, and likes I receive.

Happy reading!

Master list

The night in Velaris always had something special, but this one, in particular, felt magical. The gentle murmur of the Sidra River, the mild air filled with the scent of night-blooming flowers, and the clear sky full of stars that seemed to shine only for those willing to observe them closely.

Azriel was flying back to the House of Wind. He had had one of those long days, the kind where the exhaustion wasn’t just physical but emotional too. Azriel had spent hours training the Illyrians, dealing with disputes, and making sure everything ran smoothly in the Night Court.

Y/N had seen him enter, his posture stiff, and the shadows around him more restless than usual. Since they had begun spending more time together, she had learned to read him, to notice when he was tired or when something bothered him, even if he never said it. That night, however, something inside her told her that Azriel needed more than just company; he needed someone to care for him for once.

Without a word, Y/N followed him to the sitting room where Azriel usually sat after his missions or training, right next to the large window that offered a panoramic view of the city. He was there, staring out at the horizon, the stars reflecting in his golden eyes, but without his usual spark.

With a soft smile, Y/N entered and walked up to him. She sat beside him in silence, respecting his need for quiet. She didn’t need to ask what was wrong; she knew him well enough to know he would speak if he wanted to.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before she suddenly got up and said, "I’ll be back in a moment."

Azriel watched her leave the room without asking where she was going. In his mind, the shadows kept whispering, but there was something about Y/N’s presence that calmed them slightly. She always made him feel less alone, less lost.

A little while later, Y/N returned with a cup of hot tea in her hands and a couple of blankets. Without asking, she offered him the tea and then draped one of the blankets over his legs.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Azriel asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and amusement.

Y/N shrugged, smiling. "Taking care of you. You look exhausted."

Azriel took the cup of tea, surprised by how comforting such a simple gesture could be. No one usually took care of him like that. He was always the one looking out for others, the one protecting, the one watching over his loved ones from the shadows. But with Y/N... she made him feel like someone worthy of being cared for.

Y/N sat back down beside him, wrapping herself in a blanket, and gently snuggled up against him. At first, Azriel tensed reflexively, but then he relaxed when she intertwined her fingers with his, softly caressing his scarred hand. Though he hated the scars for the horrible memories they brought him, Y/N didn’t feel the same. To her, they were part of his story.

The touch was so light, so intimate, that it surprised him how much it soothed him.

"Do you feel better?" she whispered, without looking directly at him, her focus on the nighttime view of Velaris.

Azriel gently squeezed her hand in response. "Yes... much better," he answered softly.

The peace he had been searching for all day, the calm he so longed for, he found there, in that moment, sitting next to Y/N, with her hand in his and her warmth comforting him.

"You know," Y/N continued in a low voice, "you don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your own. You can rest, lean on someone every now and then."

Azriel remained silent for a moment, his thoughts deep. Y/N’s words resonated with him in a way that few things ever did. He was so used to being the shield for everyone else, to protect and care, that he rarely allowed himself to be vulnerable, even for a moment.

"Thank you," he finally whispered, his voice full of sincerity. "For this. For... taking care of me."

Y/N lifted her head to look at him, her smile soft and understanding. "I’ll always do it, Az. Anytime you need it," she told him, a promise between them.

Azriel turned to her, his eyes meeting hers, and in that moment, something inside him broke, in the most beautiful way possible. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against Y/N’s, closing his eyes as he breathed deeply, letting her closeness envelop him completely.

They remained like that, together in the stillness, simply enjoying the peace they had found in each other. For Azriel, it was a reminder that it was okay to be vulnerable, that he didn’t always have to be strong—at least not with Y/N. And for her, it was a moment of tenderness, knowing that, although Azriel was a warrior in the shadows, in her arms he would always have a place to rest.

"Come," Y/N said softly, shifting a bit and pulling him down. "Let’s relax a little more."

Azriel let her guide him, leaning back into the cushions of the sofa as she nestled at his side, resting her head on his chest. His wings instinctively moved to wrap around them, creating a warm, protective barrier.

"I promise tomorrow will be better," Y/N whispered, her fingers gently playing with the dark strands of Azriel’s hair.

Azriel smiled for the first time all day, his hand softly caressing Y/N’s back. "With someone like you by my side, it will be."

Y/N kissed his cheek, and the spymaster blushed.

Under the blankets, under the night’s veil and the shelter of Azriel’s wings, they both found comfort in each other. A shared peace that didn’t need grand words or elaborate gestures—just a simple promise to always be there for one another.

*divider by @cafekitsune , thank you <33.

A/N: After an angst-filled Azriel x reader it's only fair to have a fluffy one. I hope you liked it and I'm sorry it was short, let me know what you think. Kisses, love you guys.

#azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #acotar x reader #azriel x female!reader #azriel x reader fluff #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel fic #azriel fluff #azriel fanfiction #azriel x y/n #soft!azriel #acotar #acotar fanfiction

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lurochar · 6 months ago

Text

The Domino Effect (Pt. 1)

Alastor's shadow has been banned from seeing you for a week. The fallout thus begins.

This was getting long, so it's going to be split into 2 parts. I'm not sure when the second part will be posted, hopefully next week.

Warnings: Alastor's shadow is a massive simp for Reader. There are a few cringey deer puns to get through

18+ MDNI

The Shadow will Play and The Buck Stops Here

Please read those two first

--------------------------------------------

One week.

An entire week – 7 whole days (his Master was so, so cruel), 168 hours (time wasn’t the same for a being like him), 10, 080 minutes (so why was it taking so long to pass?), 604, 800 seconds (would have to go by before he could smell, touch, taste you again).

He was getting restless, antsy in the meantime.

His Master was allowing him to roam around freely if he didn’t need him for anything, so perhaps his Master did understand that being separated from you was one of the worst things he (they) could endure.

Not that Alastor would ever admit that out loud of course.

But misbehaviour was misbevaviour – Alastor couldn’t let his own shadow think it could do whatever it wanted without his explicit permission, especially when it concerned you.

Everything about you belonged to him. Your pleasure was his, your pretty sounds were his. All of your blood, sweat, and tears were his.

His shadow may be a literal part of him, but he was a selfish, selfish man. Wasn’t he already being kind enough to allow his shadow to watch and observe?

Yes, you were his in every way but one – your soul.

It was an utterly frustrating aspect about you and Alastor wasn’t completely sure why you would not give your soul to him. Surely by now you know he would do everything in his power to protect it, treasure it, and he would never dream of mistreating you in any way.

You saw how he treated other souls under his thumb, how he treated Husker and Niffty. He was most certainly charitable to them, wasn’t he? Sure, he may be a little rougher on Husk, but it wasn’t his fault the former Overlord didn’t seem to know his place at times and he couldn’t have the souls he owned out of line and misbehaving, could he?

You, of course, were different from them, they were toys, his pawns. You were his lover, his mate.

He was selfish, but he was also patient. He could wait, he would wait until he could find a loophole and break out of his own contract – you didn’t find out about that, did you? It’s not as if he told you about it. He wasn’t even sure how Husk found out about it, it wasn’t something he spoke about to anyone.

(Was that why you refused to give him your soul?)

It must be difficult, he was sure, so he gave his shadow a little bit more leeway than usual and it certainly was using it.

His shadow was clearly irritated, engaging in activities that it was familiar with, but ramped up in intensity.

Pranks against the hotel’s residents were now borderline assaults and Alastor simply allowed it to happen, despite the annoyed complaints he was receiving and concerned looks he was getting from you.

He didn’t answer when you asked about ‘Shadowy’.

“Fuck you.” Husk grumbled, not bothering to get up from his slumped position at the bar as the damn shadow just seemed to pop up from nowhere. He was already starting to deal with the shakes, suffering from the backlash of not having any alcohol when the shadow switched out all of his alcohol with other liquids during the night.

You had kindly volunteered to go and fetch him some booze, but Alastor had simply sneered at him and reminded you that you two had a lunch date with Rosie and thus, wouldn’t be back at the hotel until quite late.

You had thrown him an apologetic look and Husk just shook his head, not wanting to piss Alastor off. At least you tried, the only one who bothered to do so other than Charlie, who quickly ran off to town as soon as she saw his condition to buy him a six-pack to get him through the night. He could order more once the withdrawals wore off.

That fucking shadow popped up just as he finished his first bottle.

Other than cursing at it, Husk didn’t have the energy to do much else other than growl at it. It just snickered at him and before Husk could even react, its arm swiped across the counter and knocked the five remaining bottles off the bar and watched with a menacing glee as they shattered across the floor.

Husk stared in disbelief as his remaining booze leaked on the ground and the shadow cooed at him in an extremely condescending manner, stroking the back of its hand with its tongue and giving him a look with its hollow eyes as if to say, ‘lick it up.’

The shadow vanished as swiftly as it came.

That one bottle wasn’t enough and Husk vaguely wondered if he had done anything to anger Alastor recently and if Charlie was willing to go back into town again to pick him up any more booze.

Hell, he’d even ask Niffty at this point. He didn’t care who got him what he needed, as long as he got it in the end.

He almost felt desperate enough to lick it right off the floor.

That damn shadow was probably watching him and waiting for him to do it.

Fuck him.

~00~

The shadow dealt with his frustrations the next day by leaving the hotel and slaughtering a few Sinners, specifically targeting ones that had any VoxTek on their person.

He licked the blood off his claws, but grimaced at the flavour. Nothing had an appeal for him since he had a taste of you, but then had immediately been deprived right after.

Why was his Master so harsh?

Why couldn’t he touch you too?

But orders were orders and he had no choice but to listen. He just didn’t understand, you had thought the bleats were cute and he knew you would not go around telling everyone that his Master bleated during sex, so why was his Master annoyed with him?

Would his Master react in the same way if he told you about their tail? Well, it was more specifically his Master’s secret than his own since pulling his own tail just wouldn’t have the same effect.

He may be punished again, but he also felt the contentment from his Master, especially that night where he felt the tinges of euphoria and a ghost-like touch upon his ears. He hadn’t been completely connected to his Master that night, so he only felt the barest of touches, but he knew you must have gotten Alastor to bleat.

What was one more thing?

Another punishment would be unpleasant, but ultimately if his Master (and him too) got the utmost pleasure out of revealing ‘humiliating’ secrets to their lover, who would never laugh at them no matter what, another punishment would be worth it.

Besides, if these thoughts were running in the front of his mind, then they must be running in the back of his Master’s – probably pushed down and away because his Master thought they were weaknesses.

His Master had even once thought that about you in the very beginning, as ridiculous as it seemed now, considering his Master (and him) would rip Hell apart and make it rain with guts and gore should anything happen to you.

His Master was just bad at feelings, that's all.

~00~

The shadow was back at the hotel.

His ears twitched as he sat on the top of the stairs. He caught the sound of Charlie’s voice somewhere nearby. Ah, she was a lucky one, his Master had told him to leave Charlie out of any pranks as he needed to stay on her good side.

Everyone else was free game.

He had gotten Husk.

Charlie was a no-go.

Angel Dust was… honestly, he wanted to avoid being near him. The constant sex jokes made even his Master uncomfortable and irked. He only understood what his Master understood and before you, Alastor had almost zero interest in sex. Most of the time, his Master (and thus, him) had no idea what Angel Dust was even talking about and did not want to know.

So, Angel Dust only if he were desperately frustrated to the point of breaking his punishment.

Vaggie, how could he get her? Hide that precious spear of hers in a place she could never reach, stash it away in the shadows? Maybe shear off a good chunk of that long hair of hers with his claws?

Hmm, decisions, decisions…

His ears twitched again and the shadow glanced down, eyes glowing brighter when he noticed the little creatures cheerfully moving past him and towards the first stair.

Right, these are the pets(?) of the second resident of the hotel – the snake man, the shadow did not know his name because it seemed his Master did not bother to remember it, even after the snake managed to rip a piece of his Master’s coat off.

Well, they were the pets of that snake.

The shadow nonchalantly kicked the first Egg Boi, watching with sadistic pleasure as its fellow Egg Boiz panicked when their companion cracked wide open in the middle of the staircase.

“Where have you gone off to, my little sssssweetssss?”

The shadow stood, grinning at the scene before disappearing into the darkness just as Sir Pentious slithered towards the staircase.

He heard the snake screech in horror before vanishing completely.

~00~

“In and out.”

His shadow whined, using all its willpower to not look in the direction of the bed where it knows you are sleeping. This is the closest it has been to you in a few days and it took almost everything out of it to not just jump into that bed and cuddle up into your side and curl around you.

“I’ve been getting complaints about you.” Alastor eyed his shadow before turning his attention to the pile of corpses gathered at his door. “Husk told me you sabotaged all of his alcohol and that snake fellow said you killed one of those egg creatures.”

The shadow chittered.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I don’t care. As long as you avoid Charlie, do as you please. If you do target Vaggie at some point, do go a bit lighter on her. Charlie may get angry at me on Vaggie’s behalf and I can’t have that.” He paused for a moment to listen to his shadow chirp and titter. “I don’t know, this is your project.” Alastor shrugged, ignoring the glare his shadow was giving him. “Steal her hair ribbon or such.”

His shadow’s chitters stopped and Alastor assumed that was exactly what it was going to do the next day.

“You have been quite active today, I see.” Alastor turned back to the corpses. “Much more than we need, but I suppose it's fine. Rosie is always in need of more meat.” His smile darkened and he turned to your sleeping form in the bed, casting a spell to make sure you stay asleep. He didn't want you waking up to the unpleasant sight of mangled corpses. “It's a good way to let off steam.”

His shadow let out a noise of agreement.

“Now then, let's get this meat into the bayou dimension. Hmm, it seems you even snagged a worker of that insufferable Vox. I do wonder how they will taste?”

You stayed sound asleep.

~00~

“Have you seen it?”

You feel Vaggie's grip around your arms tighten and you sigh. “No, I'm sorry, I haven't.” You answer. “But I can help you look.” You offer.

“Are you sure?” Vaggie's expression is a mixture of panic, suspicion, and anger. “I know Alastor has been playing his weird sadistic little games with us lately and I really don't think you're doing anything yourself, but I know you would choose him in a heartbeat over us.”

“I…” You are taken back by the amount of vitriol in Vaggie's voice. “I really had nothing to do with this.” You said firmly, causing Vaggie to rub at her hair in exasperation – something she's clearly been doing all day judging by how unruly it is.

“Are you two fighting?” Vaggie asked after clearing her throat and the panic disappeared from her face and voice.

That ribbon must be very important to her if she's acting like this.

“No.” You murmured, having a feeling of where Vaggie’s ribbon might have vanished to. “But I think I am a part of the problem here.” Your proceeding smile is shaky. “I'll help you find your ribbon.”

“I-it was Charlie's first gift to me.” Vaggie looked forlorn for a second. “I know it sounds stupid to be attached to something that can be so easily replaced, but–”

“It's not stupid.” You cut Vaggie off. “It's not stupid at all. You love Charlie, you love every and any little thing she does for you, gets for you. I understand that.”

Vaggie smiled softly, nodding before her eye widened and she looked at you closely. “Y/N, Alastor, he… he isn't like Charlie–”

“Love is irrational sometimes.” You've heard this speech enough times already. “I know what Alastor is, what he's done. But he's never done anything to hurt me and he protected me even before our relationship began, all without asking for a single thing in return. I give what I can willingly and happily.”

Yeah, Alastor may have asked for your soul a few times, but he never seemed angered or upset that you turned him down nor did he incessantly pester you about it.

It's just how Overlords worked, you figured.

Vaggie stared in disbelief, not sure if you were even speaking about the Radio Demon anymore.

“Let's split up to look for your ribbon.” If your guess was right, you really did not want Vaggie there to see. “Is that okay?”

“Oh, yeah, that's fine.” Vaggie snapped out of her stupor. “I've already searched my and Charlie's room. And Charlie is looking in the main room. Maybe I left it in with my dirty clothes?” Vaggie muttered to herself. “I think I'll go check the laundry room. You can look anywhere you like.” She began towards the laundry room, but stopped a moment later. “Hey, Y/N. Thanks.”

You watched as Vaggie practically sprinted off in her chosen direction and smiled. “Of course.”

You had a buck and his shadow to find.

~00~

“Quite the accusation, Darling.”

Your fingers scratched your cheek and you looked away. “I know you didn't steal Vaggie's ribbon.” You said. “But I know Shadowy has been causing problems for the past couple of days. Shadowy has Vaggie's ribbon, right?” It takes only one look at Alastor's tight grin to know you are correct. “Just let me see Shadowy if he's causing all these problems!”

“I will not tolerate disobedience.” Alastor retorted. “My shadow had one simple order and it did not follow it. There are consequences for that. And it seems there are side effects to the consequence I have put in place. It may not be ‘fun’ for the others to deal with, but they are harmless in the long run.”

“Husk was going through withdrawals.” You frown. “And one of Sir Pentious’ Egg Boiz, you know, cracked open, so I assume that must mean it's dead.”

“We are in Hell, my dearest Doe. While I'm sure withdrawals are quite unpleasant to experience, Husk won't die from them.” Alastor moved closer to you. “As for the egg creature, many have already ‘died’ in my previous… ‘engagements’ with that snake fellow, yet he is never without them. I'm sure he has a source of some sort for those egg creatures.”

“Okay, I get that Shadowy is frustrated? Angry? But why are you letting him do it all here?” You ask with a sigh.

“Of course I allow my shadow to go out and about, but I still do need it close by, so it may only go into the city for a few hours at a time in a limited range. If I need to, I can call it back quickly should something unlikely occur, such as the hotel coming under attack.”

Sometimes, Alastor’s thoughts were beyond you and this punishment for his own shadow seemed a bit excessive.

“Just… just tell Shadowy to give Vaggie back her ribbon in the same shape it was in. It's very important to her, all right? Please, please don't let him rip it!” You plead.

Alastor's ears twitch at your tone and his tense smile turns into something wicked. “And what would you do to ensure that would happen, dearest?”

You blink and then gape at him for a second. “I–” This situation was odd, but ultimately, you are at the centre of it and if all you needed to do was have sex with your lover to get Vaggie's ribbon back, then of course you would do it.

(Maybe you could squeeze out a few bleats too~)

~00~

He stared at the mirror, tying the ribbon on various parts of his body, wondering if you would like it.

First, around his neck. His Master wore something like this everyday, so he was sure you would like this too.

Second, around his ear. It was cute, right? You liked cute things. You had called him ��cute’ many times before.

‘Do not damage that ribbon in any way. If you do, I will extend your punishment. Bring that ribbon back to me.’

His Master's voice sounded in his head and the shadow whined at the thought of not seeing you beyond the allotted time.

He carefully untied the ribbon from his ear, making sure not to rip it with his claws. He let out a huff, dissatisfied that his ‘prank’ was already over and that he would have to move on to something else.

Should he slaughter more Sinners – go out and find more of Vox's employees and risk getting caught doing so? What would Vox even do in retaliation? Sing his pissy little song about his Master again on that awful picture box?

It sounded much more fun than pranking Niffty, who didn't seem like he would get an entertaining reaction from.

He could switch her bleach with water – but that was boring, he already did something similar with Husk and it's not like he could watch and snicker cruelly at Niffty afterwards since she wouldn't suffer from withdrawals. She might briefly huff and pout, but that would probably be the extent of it.

She was already quite deranged, she would more than likely enjoy anything he could think of and he didn't want anyone to enjoy anything until he could see and cuddle up to you again.

He still wanted to avoid Angel Dust and besides, the adult picture show actor wasn't even at the hotel to begin with. He didn't care where the spider was, but he was probably at work with that other Vee.

He could always mess with Angel Dust's room, tear it to shreds before the spider arrived back, but that meant stepping into it and the thought of all those disgusting sex fluids that still covered the surfaces of that room, just unseen to the naked eye, was enough to put a halt on that idea.

No, the only sex fluid he (and his Master) would ever partake in is your slick and the very thought had him salivating and his tail wagging.

But before he could get lost in his arousing thoughts, he had to get this ribbon back to his Master before he accidentally ruined it.

~00~

You have to wonder.

Did Alastor go out of his way to drive you out of your coherent fucking mind or was he just malevolent enough to come up with these nasty ideas right on the spot?

Probably a little bit of both.

“NO!” You sob, arms struggling against their restraints and legs kicking out uselessly as you were denied your orgasm yet again - what was that, the third time now? “No, hah! Please, Alastor!” You were literally dripping now, slick oozing down your thighs to stain the sheets below.

You could be embarrassed about it later.

“Hmm, I must say, I do enjoy the sound of your begging, it’s always pleasing to my ears.” Alastor pulled his staff back, hovering the microphone just over your quivering folds, but not quite touching. “It’s lovely. Won’t you keep it up, Darling?”

Oh fuck, keep it up? How many more orgasms was he going to ruin?

“H-how else…?” You slurred, feeling your head snap back when the microphone starts vibrating once again against your sensitized clit. You barely feel the pain when the back of your head bangs against the headboard of the bed since it only adds to the light-headed feeling swirling around your mushy brain. “–should I b-be begging?”

You can only say please so many times, doesn’t Alastor get tired of it?

Alastor tapped his fingers against the shaft of his microphone staff, eyeing you for a moment to make sure you didn’t accidentally concuss yourself. He may be a bit of a sadist, but not so much as to cause permanent damage to his precious doe. “Oh dear, have you lost the ability to speak? Surely you can do better than that?”

“Nngh!” A strange sound erupted from your mouth and your vision was swimming. “C-can I cum?” Finally, words are forming and you gasp when the vibrations against your cunt seem to intensify. “Please, let me cum, Alastor!”

“I suppose you can. You’ve been a good girl tonight.” Alastor cooed, knowing he had to wrap things up a little quicker than he would like because he could sense his shadow was close and honestly, it just might out right disobey him again if it sees you like this. “Go on then. Cum.” He reached over, tracing over your slick folds before sliding two fingers into you smoothly because of how wet you are.

You tremble, feeling Alastor’s fingers press against that sensitive spot inside you, hitting it again and again with precision while holding his microphone on your small bundle of nerves. “A-ah!” Your eyes rolled back and your slippery walls clamp down around Alastor’s fingers, but he doesn’t stop, working you through your orgasm until it starts to become painful, “Oh… no, no more…”

The vibrations of his microphone slow down gradually when your hips try to shift away and Alastor is still casually bumping his fingers against that responsive little spot, allowing the tentacles restraining your arms to retract from the headboard. He finally pulls away from you and you let out a little breath. “Do you need anything, dearest?”

You collapse against the bed, grimacing at the sticky feeling between your legs, but you’re not in the mood for a bath. Your body and mind were buzzing pleasantly with endorphins and your eyes looked up to Alastor and your mouth opened before your brain could really think of what you were actually saying.

Honestly, he should like it, he really should! He loved those cringey puns and dad jokes and other than his mug and referring to you as a doe (which wasn’t a joke to him), Alastor really seemed to stay clear from any deer puns.

“Nope, I feel like a million ‘bucks’!”

It seemed to take a moment for him and his grin twitched on one side, static dying down for a second and he seemed to let out a sigh.

“Quite…amusing, Darling.”

~00~

He was bitter, furious.

Was his Master torturing him? Trying to get him to deliberately disobey him? Why would his Master call him back, end his prank – his current amusement – only to be wrapped up in you, when he wasn’t allowed to be? His Master’s emotions were his as well and stronger ones like desire wreaked havoc on a being like him.

He growled, stalking towards the exit of the hotel, ears flat against his head when he spotted Charlie. He made a beeline for her, causing her to gasp in surprise at the sight of him and take a step back.

He let out a huff, not even allowing her to say anything as he threw the ribbon at her feet before he disappeared into the floor, speeding out of sight before anger could take hold of him and he did something he couldn’t take back.

“T-thank you?” Charlie was confused by the strange occurrence, but grateful all the same. She picked up the ribbon and smiled widely, hugging it against her chest.

She knew that Vaggie had told you about the lost ribbon, so maybe you had told Alastor and he actually decided to help for once? And for something that he would deem so unimportant and beneath him? Even if he only used his shadow to help, it was a big step forward.

Maybe there was hope for him?

Probably not, but you really did bring a softer side out of him and it always brightened her day seeing you and Alastor together.

Who would have thought the Radio Demon would ever find love?

~00~

There was a commotion outside.

“What now?” Angel Dust groaned from the bar, slamming back his drink and he winced when he moved in the wrong way. Val had really been doing a number on him lately and he wasn’t in the mood for any weird shit.

He was already on guard for that creepy shadow since Husk and Vaggie already warned him and he had told Cherri Bomb to stay away for a few days since he just needed some nice R&R, so who the hell was it now?

“I know that fucking voice.” Husk scowled. “What the fuck is she doing here? She knows she’s not welcome here.” Well, it would be only a matter of a few minutes before Alastor noticed, if he hadn’t already, and she would be sent on her way – or better yet, shut up permanently for coming back to the hotel.

“Ya can’t mean…?” Angel lifted his head as Husk rolled his eyes before shrugging. “She’s not that stupid, right? Smiles told her right to her face not to come back.”

“She was involved in the Boss’ life when they were alive, how smart could she possibly be?” Husk grunted and Angel’s brow rose at the unintentional insult to you. “Well, no offense to Y/N. Boss actually seems to care about her, as unlikely as it is.”

“You serious? Smiles is head over heels for Y/N! But I get it, you got a bias against the guy, for a good reason. I don’t blame ya if you can’t see it.” Angel let out a laugh at Husk’s glare. “Hey, it just means we don’t have to worry about Smiles paying attention to us as much when it's all directed to Dollface.”

“Is that so, my effeminate fellow?”

Angel jumped in surprise, nearly falling off the bar stool as Alastor and you rose up from a void of black through the floor right behind him. “You’re gonna give someone a heart attack doing that!”

“Interesting method, but not efficient or quick enough. I think I’d rather just rip the heart straight from the che–” Alastor glanced down when you put your hand on his shoulder.

“I think what Angel means is that you scared him by appearing behind him so suddenly.” You explain with an affectionate grin, seeing the relieved look Angel is sending you. “Anyway, is she really…?”

“She always was a bullheaded woman.” Alastor’s smile is tight and his fangs are gritting. “But the absolute audacity to show up here after I explicitly told her she’s not welcome.” He closed his eyes and let out a calming breath before opening them again. “Well, I suppose I should see what she wants. Darling, stay close to me.”

Alastor gestured you to follow him and you did so, stepping past the front doors of the hotel to see why the commotion was even happening to begin with.

Why was Mimzy, of all Sinners, here?

“I ain't leaving until Alastor shows his face!” Mimzy snarled impressively, flanked by two bulky shark demons on each of her side. “I know he's here!”

It seemed she hadn't learned her lesson yet about getting tangled in the world of loan sharks, which was that much more dangerous in Hell.

“He told you to stay away!” Vaggie had her weapon at the ready, prepared to strike at any sudden movements. “You almost destroyed the hotel last time you showed up. I'm not going to let you do it again.”

Charlie flailed a bit, glancing between Vaggie and Mimzy while wringing her hands. She wasn't particularly happy to see Mimzy again, but if Mimzy wanted her shot at redemption, Charlie certainly couldn't deny her that.

“Mimzy! What a pleasure to see you again!” Alastor’s cheerful voice cut in, but his expression told a completely different story as his pupils slowly began to shift into radio dials. “I believe I told you t͓̰̹̣ͨ̈́̿o̭̞̗͍ͦ̾ n̷͇͈̎̉̌͘ê̢̼̱̝v̻͔̆ẻ͇̊ṟ͆ͪͧ s͑͗h̸̪̋ͯ́o̥̘w͒̆̕ y̢͚o̘͎͔̪̒ͦ̿u̖ṟ̥̤̆ͭ͜͠ f̘á̯ͪ̔͋c̻̽̂ͬ͒͜e̶̳͑ͤͦ́ͅ ĥ͟e̋r̰̬̹̀̾͞e ǎ̞g̏ͭa͂ǐn̰̱̓ͩ͡.”

“Heh, believe me, I don't wanna be here either.” Mimzy huffed, crossing her arms under her ample bosom. Her eyes drifted to you and her brow rose in surprise. “You're still around? Huh, thought Alastor would've dropped you like a hot potato by now.”

Charlie immediately recoiled back and Vaggie almost slapped her own face at the utterly stupid and probable life-ending words coming from Mimzy's big mouth.

You really didn't have much of a reaction, you didn't need to.

Alastor’s head tilted at an unnatural angle, accompanied with a loud disturbing snapping noise. “You come here, to the hotel under my protection, as an unwelcome guest, and then proceed to insult my mate not only in front of me, but to her as well?” His eyes were beginning to black out and his antlers were growing rapidly.

Mimzy now seemed to realize her mistake and took a step back, trying to look smaller and hide behind her two lackeys, who were also visibly panicking, “I didn't mean anything by it, I swear! C'mon, Al, I'm just going by what I know! When we were livin’, you never had a woman on your arm for more than a single night! A-and even then, you never took them to your home!”

Alastor barely registered Mimzy's words, but his rage became manageable when you placed a comforting hand on his arm. “Just hear her out?” You asked. “If you kill her, you might regret it later. You were friends in life, right?”

“More so business partners than anything else.” Alastor answered under his breath. “We exchanged favours. We benefited from each other. I can't say it was anything more than that.”

“I’m…I’m sure she has some good reason for showing up here.” You sigh, though you were not very convinced of your own words. You had no real idea what to think of Mimzy and her last appearance at the hotel hadn’t exactly raised your opinion of her.

That, and she had subtly insulted you by calling you ‘Plain Jane Doe’ and that you were not even near the league of beauties that Alastor associated with, drank and danced the night away with at the speakeasy Mimzy ran back when they were alive. Of course she had done so while Alastor was out of earshot.

But still, on one hand, she was an acquaintance of Alastor’s, one he seemed a little more friendly with than most. On the other hand, Husk had outright warned you Mimzy only showed up when she needed Alastor to help her out of whatever hole she had dug herself into and it seemed she had done so often enough in the past that she simply expected it, that Alastor would ‘take care of her’.

“Oh, it’s a pretty damn good reason, sugar.” Mimzy’s panic quickly turned to annoyance once she remembered the reason she had bothered to come to the hotel. “Alastor, I know you can be petty, but I didn’t think you’d sink this low!” Her expression turned ugly. “Is it payback for the one time I came here?! Did it really bother you that much?! You can just use your hoodoo voodoo crap to magic it all back, can’t you!? Well, I can’t!”

“Err, what are you talking about?” Charlie asked reluctantly, seeing how upset Mimzy was, but none of them had a clue what she was referring to.

“My club!” Mimzy screeched. “Alastor sent his shadow to my club! And that thing destroyed it! Completely ruined it! Do you know how long it’ll take me to fix it back the way it was?!” Her hands curled into claws as she glared viciously at Alastor. “And that’s not the only thing it did!”

You stared wide-eyed at the blonde woman in disbelief.

“It ate ten of my contractees! Ten souls may be chump change for you, Alastor, but that’s a serious blow to me! I can’t believe you! I never thought you would turn on me like this!” Mimzy spat.

Alastor returned to his regular form, his anger turning something more contemplative. If he were completely honest, he didn’t care how this affected Mimzy because, well, he had nothing to gain or lose in her situation.

But this was also curious and vexing at the same time since he did not tell his shadow to do such a thing and an action like this was far beyond its familiar activities.

If he left his shadow to its own devices for longer than he intended, what else would it do? Was it that outraged it couldn’t see you it needed to scatter destruction wherever it went?

Well, he couldn’t blame his shadow, he couldn’t exactly say what his actions would be if he were to be suddenly separated from you, but he knew they wouldn’t be pretty.

“I believe you’re well aware of the type of relationship we truly have, Mimzy.” Alastor didn’t exactly want to admit in front of others that his shadow was briefly out of his control for a time. “Give and take. Tit for tat. However you wish to word it. Here in Hell, I have given you much, much more than I have taken. How many times have I saved you from your own foolishness?” Alastor gave an obvious look to the loan sharks still by Mimzy’s side. “And you refuse to learn from it. You can think of this as retribution if you want. Tell me, what would I gain if I chose to help you this time?”

You gave Alastor a look of dismay, but you weren’t surprised.

Mimzy ground her teeth. “Huh, fine. Guess we’re even then. I do a little damage to your shithole hotel, which you can fix with a snap of your fingers and you total my club, which will take me weeks, maybe months to fix.” She turned to the car waiting for her and the loan sharks followed after her. “Got it, Alastor. Your little squeeze there is more important than a decades-long partnership.”

With that, she was gone from the hotel.

“W-well, that was something!” Charlie laughed uncomfortably, breaking the tense silence and was about to say more, but slammed her mouth shut when Vaggie shook her head at her. “L-let’s just head back.” She muttered.

The short trek back was just as tense.

“What the fuck did she want?” Husk asked as soon as he caught sight of everyone. “She’s not coming back again, right?”

“I should think not.” Alastor answered. “I believe I drew a very clear line this time. I’m sure Mimzy will be busy for quite a while and won’t have the time to think of our humble hotel here.”

“Good.” Husk simply said, shrugging. “That bitch was never good news. Glad you finally see what I've always seen, Boss.” He ignored Angel’s snickers from the bar.

“Alastor,” You bit your lip nervously, catching his attention as he glanced towards you, a knowing look in his eyes. “Can I talk to you?”

Alastor said nothing, he just put his hand on your shoulder and you both were travelling through his shadows and to your shared room.

What a conversation this was going to be.

~00~

“You’ve been quite the help!”

The shadow let out a chirp, but barely felt the satisfaction it used to feel when Rosie praised him in the past for delivering her any extra meat he and his Master had on their hands.

He wanted to see you.

But he still had three days to go and he had no idea this was possible for a supernatural being like him, but he felt like he was losing what little rationality he had.

It was surprising he hadn’t felt his Master call for him yet, he had to have heard what he had done to Mimzy’s club by now, but he was going to do whatever he could to keep his desire suppressed as best as he could.

Bloodlust and a penchant for violence was a good way to go.

And going back to the hotel now – he would, without a doubt, disobey his orders and that wouldn’t be good.

Or would it?

Maybe he could somehow catch you alone, bask in your presence, regain some of his sanity, and attempt to tell you about his Master’s tail. His Master wouldn’t be happy and his punishment would probably be extended, but getting them over with all at once sounded better than them being spread out.

The secret about his tail was coming out one way or another.

Maybe he could somehow compromise with his Master – maybe he could only see you when you’re sleeping? He wouldn’t touch you, of course not! He’d just watch you from a distance, just having you in sight and your scent nearby was good enough for him.

“I have to say, this is quite the haul!” Rosie’s voice broke him out of his thoughts. “It’s not like Alastor to overindulge like this at all. He has a distaste for wasting food.” Rosie tilted her head thoughtfully. “And I don’t believe the rutting season doesn’t start for a few more months, so that can’t be it.”

Rosie wasn't complaining, was she?

“I am ever so grateful of course, do not get me wrong.” Rosie seemed to notice the downright ominous scowl on his face, though she did not seem frightened in the least. “For your troubles, I’m more than happy to give you any choice of your preferred meat. Any cut you like! I believe I even received some venison this morning!” She tempted him with a grin.

His ears perked up, teetering on the choice whether to accept Rosie’s offer or not. He had already gotten his fill earlier – it had been rather satisfying devouring those insignificant lackeys under Mimzy’s control right in front of her while she couldn’t do a thing about it – but Sinner venison wasn’t particularly common in Hell and it was something his Master could only indulge in once in a while.

Could he use it to bargain?

He nodded eagerly and Rosie’s grin grew wider, as if she expected his answer. “Of course, of course! I did save it for Alastor after all. Wait here for a moment. I even have it packed up and ready to go. Plus a little sample for your help~”

It only took a few moments and Rosie was handing him a package and a few bite-sized pieces of raw venison. He took them with a pleased chitter and her fangs seemed to sparkle at him. “I always appreciate your deliveries, it’s always a great help! I look forward to seeing Alastor and dear Y/N at our next lunch date. One of these days we’ll manage to get her to at least nibble on a ladyfinger.” She joked, not hearing the soft whimper he allowed to escape from him at the sound of your name.

Hopefully his Master was craving deer.

~00~

Alastor stared at you expectantly.

It frustrated you a bit. “Don’t you think this has gone on long enough?” You finally said, seeing that he wasn’t going to say anything and fully expected you to initiate the conversation – he probably didn’t even see the need for a conversation and that made you a little upset.

“I do not. A week has not fully passed. Punishments are given for a reason, are they not? My shadow did not heed my command. I can’t have that.” Alastor answered as if it were already obvious.

“It’s just me, me! Your shadow did that because it likes me, because you feel something for me, or I at least I hope you do. You know I’m not going to tell anyone that you–you might bleat because your ears become extra sensitive or whatever goes on! I don’t really know much about deer biology– do you even follow deer biology? I-I just know I really, really like it when you do bleat because it–”

Damn it, you were fucking rambling nonsense and becoming totally off track.

Alastor’s brow rose, but he said nothing and just let you rant.

“No, no, I mean, uh…” You licked your lips nervously and your face was burning, but you ignored it. “Well, I do mean that, but really, even if you didn’t care if anyone else knew, I-I wouldn’t… wouldn’t…” You trailed off.

You wouldn’t tell anyone anyway because, well, you wanted it – you wanted those bleats to belong solely to you.

Was that awful of you?

“Err, anyway, Shadowy seems to be escalating with each day. It was contained in the hotel at first, and even then, the pranks seemed a little more… cruel than usual. But with Mimzy, that… that’s completely– I don’t even know!” You shook your head. “Especially since you didn’t order it to do that! What’s next if you don’t stop this now? It attacks the Vees?!”

You were breathing a little harder now.

“Do you feel better now, Darling?” Alastor reached out and stroked a finger down the side of your face, feeling how heated your skin had become even through his glove. “It seems you had a lot on your mind for quite a while now.”

“Are you… are you going to call Shadowy back now?” You asked hopefully, glad that Alastor didn’t tease you for your rambling, but the situation seemed a little too serious for that now.

“I believe it’s coming back on its own.” Alastor answered. “But I cannot let up on its punishment.” He wasn’t surprised by your absolutely disappointed expression. “This is unexpected even to me. I never had given a thought to Mimzy since I had banned her from the hotel, so why did my shadow display such aggression against her? I have to admit, it’s very interesting to me as to what else it may do, but despite that, surely you must understand?”

You furrowed your brows.

“I am still an Overlord, dearest, the Radio Demon. If it gets out that I cannot control my own shadow, how would the souls I own react? It might make for an amusing broadcast, but I can’t have my pawns thinking they can rebel against me. Enough souls are lost during the Extermination, I would rather not add to that count myself.”

“T-that’s a fair point.” You certainly could see Alastor’s side, but why he was still letting his shadow run around freely was not something you could understand. “Maybe just five minutes? Two? Even a minute? Even thirty seconds? I… please let me see Shadowy for just a second so he doesn’t do something completely insane!”

“Three more days. I don’t think Hell will fall because my shadow refuses to behave.” Alastor observed as your disappointment deepened even further and you sighed. “But I will keep it on a tighter leash. It won’t be allowed anywhere near the Vees and their territory if that will ease your mind.”

“I, yeah, that’s good.” You just felt bad, horrible that these things were happening simply because Shadowy couldn’t see you and maybe Alastor’s reasons were reasonable in his eyes considering his position, but you still felt awful. “If you don’t mind, can I sleep in my old room tonight?”

“You needn’t ask my permission, my dear Doe.” Alastor’s smile grew tight, but nothing else gave away any displeasure. “Of course, you are welcome back at any time. You have no need to knock, this is our room after all.”

You nodded. “Thanks, that… that really means a lot to me.” You stepped up to him and he bent down out of habit, causing you to briefly smile. “I sorta get where you’re coming from. You’ve got your position to maintain.” You stepped on your toes to kiss Alastor’s cheek where his smile hadn’t managed to stretch. “But I don’t know, try to look from Shadowy’s view?” You stepped back from him and towards the door. “Goodnight, Alastor. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The static was deafening.

~00~

“My my, what brings you back?”

His shadow chittered just as nonchalantly as Alastor appeared before glancing around the room, ears dropping when you clearly were not there, though that should have been expected.

“You have a captive audience in me. I would like to know, why did you attack Mimzy as you did?” Alastor asked, causing his shadow to bristle at him and he couldn’t help but to chuckle almost darkly. “Oh, fear not. I am not angered by your admittedly odd actions. In fact, they are almost intriguing in how… erratic they are.”

His shadow huffed before it went on a rant of growls, chirps, and snarls and Alastor listened patiently until it was finished.

“You went after Mimzy because she insulted my precious Doe while I was giving that little dead-beat king a tour and this was your opportunity to do so freely, is that what you’re telling me?” Alastor could feel his form shifting once again because of Mimzy and he was not sure his rage could be quelled this time around. “W̯͚̼̓͋͑h̰͕ͤ͊̈́͘ỹ̗ ẅ͉̚͝a͔͆ͅs͍͕͈̏̆̈́̐ Ỉ n̹̳͒̐o͟ț͍̰̆̌ i̲̳ͥn͌̃͊_f̵̝̣̭̣o̝̙ͣͯ̂r̗̰͑̌̚med̸ͦ͆ o̮ͮf t̗̰h̬̅͛i̵̥̅͋s?͈͘͢”

His shadow tittered, causing Alastor to stop in his transformation. He closed his eyes, willing himself back to his normal form and took a breath. “Darling begged you not to tell me?” He wanted to shake his head at your naivete – sometimes he even wondered why you were in Hell to begin with. “She didn’t want me breaking my friendship with Mimzy over a mere insult?”

Oh, his dearest Doe still had much to learn it seemed and he was more than happy to teach you.

“I suppose it’s a good start for now.” Alastor grinned wickedly. “Once Mimzy rebuilds her club, we can proceed from there.” His expression then returned to its usual one. “Our dearest is worried about you,” He watched as his shadow’s ears immediately perked and there was somehow a tinge of red on its blackened face. “You are not allowed anywhere near the Vees or allowed to take a single step in their territory, am I clear?”

His shadow nodded and Alastor was satisfied, knowing it would not break this restriction. He glanced up when his shadow reached into his own body, pulling out a package from a void and Alastor’s ears stood straight up as soon as the smell hit him.

Venison.

And not just that.

Venison from a Sinner.

“A gift from Rosie, I assume?” Alastor asked casually, narrowing his eyes when his shadow did not hand over the meat right away like it normally would have done. “I suppose I can at least hear you out.”

His shadow gripped the venison tightly before chittering and chirping, tittering and whining, giving his Master his side of the story. If his Master could not agree, he would just burn this venison to ash (even if that was just such a waste).

Alastor could feel the drool run down his fangs as he stared intently at the package held in his shadow’s hands. Venison from Sinners was rare since deer demons themselves were scarce. Most deer and other prey-based demons were simply killed within minutes of waking up in Hell since they were considered easier targets, and so, the deer demon population was small and only getting smaller.

Sinner venison was a luxury nowadays, even for an Overlord like him. He usually had to make due with just regular venison (though you enjoyed it well enough).

But was it a luxury worth his authority over his shadow?

His shadow whimpered and whined, sniveling and Alastor thought back to your words for a moment, ‘to look from Shadowy’s view’, before his ears flattened briefly and he let out a sigh. “All right. The venison is mine and you get five minutes and only five minutes.” He turned when his shadow let out a happy purr and threw him the package of venison before disappearing into the floor and streaking out of the room in a flash.

Alastor shook his head, grabbing the packaged venison before he moved toward his bayou dimension, needing some fresh air to think and clear his head of what had just happened.

“I’m growing soft.”

~00~

You couldn’t sleep.

You tossed and turned before letting out a defeated noise as you sat up in the bed. Were you really that pathetic? That you couldn’t sleep without Alastor around in the room?

No, no, it wasn’t that, the guilt of it all was getting to you – Husk suffering withdrawals, the death(?) of one of Sir Pentious Egg Boiz, and Vaggie’s ribbon. Luckily, Charlie, Angel Dust, and Niffty were overlooked by Shadowy, but it was Mimzy that made you feel the worst.

You had mixed feelings about Mimzy, but having her club – her income – destroyed and ten of her owned souls just ripped away wasn’t something she deserved.

All of this was happening because of you, this was your fault.

You let out a ragged sigh, bringing your knees to your chest to lie your head on them, not noticing the big black shape streaking right under your door and towards your bed.

Cold arms wrapped around you and you jumped in fright, beginning to shout when a tendril covered your mouth before you could scream. A familiar purr rumbled in your ears and your panic slowly ebbed away in disbelief.

Did… did Alastor actually change his mind?

“Shadowy?” You whisper and he nodded enthusiastically against you, rubbing his face against your neck as he practically tried to climb into your lap with his much bigger body and failed rather miserably. “How? Did Alastor let you…?”

Shadowy nodded again and held out five fingers. “Five minutes?” You guessed and Shadowy let out a chirp. “It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.” You smiled. “I’ve missed you, Shadowy.”

“♡♡~” Shadowy made those heart eyes at you again, but then his ears perked straight up as if he remembered something important. You blinked, watching as Shadowy reluctantly left your warmth and moved towards the little nightstand beside your bed, where an old radio had been placed.

“Oh, yeah, meant to bring that to the other room.” You muttered, not sure why Shadowy would be interested in the antique when time was short. You blink again when Shadowy pulls you closer to him and it hits you that he’s trying to tell you something like he did with the bleats. “A-are you sure? Alastor might get annoyed again.”

Shadowy shook his head, simply tapping the radio and it turned on, much to your amazement (though he is a part of the Radio Demon, what did you expect?) and he reached out to you, grabbing your hand and curling your fingers around his tail.

“Y-you want me to pet your tail!?” You blanched, paling at the thought. You had never touched Alastor’s tail even outside of the bedroom, you knew it was a trait that he absolutely loathed about himself.

Hell, he had even confided in you (the one and only time you had ever seen him drunk, even if it was mildly so) that he had attempted to cut off his own tail numerous times back in his early days, only for it to grow back the next day like nothing happened.

You were probably the very, very few who even knew he had a tail to begin with. Even his shadow didn't show his tail when others were around and typically only let it emerge around you as a form of communication.

And Shadowy wanted you to touch Alastor’s tail?! During sex at that?!

Shadowy wrapped his cold hand over yours, making sure you had a firm grip on his tail and he tugged, and you snapped your head to look at his face. “You… you bleated again. Is this just another way to get you both to bleat?”

Shadowy pointed to himself and directed you to tug his tail again, which you did curiously. Your face must be turning red when Shadowy let out that cute little noise again. He then patted both hands on his chest and used his thumb to point directly at himself.

“Are you saying only you bleat when your tail is pulled and that… that Alastor reacts differently?” You are almost crushed against the bed when Shadowy happily leaps on you, tail wagging furiously. “Do you know how Alastor reacts?”

Of course it does, it's a literal part of him.

Shadowy moves closer to the radio, pulling you along with him. He gestured for you to grab his tail again and you reluctantly do so, firmly grasping it. He nodded and you tugged and just as you did that, you heard a bleat and Shadowy tapped the radio and the station it was set on changed.

What?

You tug again, hear that cute bleat, and the station changes again.

T-that can't be right…?!

“Why would you tell me this, Shadowy?!” You panic. “This is way beyond a bleat!” You tensed when you felt Shadowy’s hands on your shoulders before he pulled back. He cupped his hands, clumsily shaping them into a form of a heart and you let out a strange choked noise.

How many minutes have gone by? How many do you have left?

Shadowy is all over you, ripping off your sleeping bottoms when you're too slow for him. His claws hook into your panties and he drags them down your legs and throws them somewhere across the room.

“It has to be quick. Really quick.” You mumbled, your face burning when you feel Shadowy’s cold hands spread your legs. The anticipation has you started, but you're still not nearly wet enough for it to be comfortable.

Shadowy buries his face in your cunt, parting your folds with his fingers and keeping them spread as he laps around them a few times before moving to that fleshy little nub that seems to give you the most pleasure. He elongated his tongue, circling and flicking it before lightly tugging at your sensitive clit without reprieve.

“Fuck, oh fuck!” Your eyes are blurred with tears and your brain is going fuzzy, but you still reach down and grab onto Shadowy's ears. He purred at your touch, licking at you faster as he slid one finger towards your now soaking hole.

Your thighs squeeze around Shadowy’s head when he bleats as you squeeze his ears and you could probably just cum on the little vibrations alone – just a few more…

Oh shit!

‘How did he find that spot?’ You thought dazedly, feeling Shadowy’s finger jam repeatedly into that extra sensitive area among your velvety walls. He was still slurping away at you, releasing a vibrating bleat every time you remembered to squeeze his ears.

You came when a second finger poked down hard on that spot and you were seeing stars, clenching on Shadowy’s fingers and tongue as he released a few more bleats when you held onto his ears and did not let go.

You sank back into the bed, muscles twitching in your legs when Shadowy kept on licking at you, determined to get every drop of slick it could possibly wring from your body. “P-please, ah, it's too much.”

Shadowy finally pulled back, licking his lips of the last of your slick before he crawled to your side, placing a hand on the side of your face and letting out a concerned coo.

Again, your mouth is working before your brain is and you seriously wonder if those orgasms are frying your mind to mush.

“I love you, Shadowy, so ‘deerly’ much.”

Shadowy lets out a noise that suspiciously sounds like a groan.

~00~

Alastor was no longer hungry.

His venison would have to wait.

It had surprised him when he felt the radio he had given you turn on and quickly felt it was his shadow's doing.

His brow rose, wondering why his shadow was using his five minutes tinkering with a radio when it could be devouring you between your legs, but those thoughts are swiftly pushed away.

The station has changed.

He can hear his shadow bleating.

The station changed aga–

Alastor's grin widens obscenely and stitches appear to hold his face together. He digs his claws into the nearest tree, almost ripping it down as his growing antlers stab right into the trunk and still continue to grow.

“Why would you tell me this, Shadowy?!”

Alastor can hear your panicked voice through the radio and it serves to calm him down some. He rips his antlers from the tree and watches with satisfaction as it falls.

“This is way beyond a bleat!”

Very much so, Darling.

His smile twitched in places, as if he were having trouble keeping it together, suddenly recalling what you said to him the night you had gotten him to bleat.

His shadow was a part of him. What he felt, it felt. Whatever he chose to push down, away, and to the back of his mind would end up expressed in his shadow freely, no matter how much he wished it weren't so.

Why?

Why in all the rings of Hell would he want to tell you this utterly pathetic thing about himself?

A bleat? Fine, you can have all the damn bleats you wanted, but this?

Did you really want to see him lose his composure – his control that badly?

(Or was it him? Did he want that???)

No, no – there was only one logical explanation for this and it made sense, it had to. You were his mate, after all. Mates tended to groom one another, didn't they?

He just wanted you to stroke his tail, that's it.

~00~

“Shadowy?”

It shouldn’t be surprising that Shadowy was gone, Alastor had only given him five minutes after all, but it was still a little disheartening to wake up to an empty room. You must have fallen asleep not long after your quick little tryst with your lover’s shadow – guilt eased somewhat, knowing that he wasn’t causing any trouble.

You stretched, giving a look at your ripped sleepwear and chucking them into the corner of the room. You would either have to throw them out or ask Alastor to fix them up with his magic and you definitely didn’t want to ask him that any time soon.

You flounder for a bit as you pull on some new clothes before ultimately deciding to head back to your shared room with Alastor. He did say you were welcome back at any time, right? There was no reason to be hesitating and if he was in a foul mood, you doubted he would even be there.

You took in a deep breath before opening the door, not needing a key as his magic recognized your presence and you slowly stepped in. “Alastor?” You called out, knowing he had to be here since you could hear the faint jazz playing in the background.

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

You almost jump when Alastor manifests behind you, feeling his hand stroke through your hair once as he waited for your answer. “I-I did.” You swallow. “I don’t know why you changed your mind, but thank you. Thank you so much, Alastor.” Your fingers are fidgeting. “Can I… can I do something for you?”

“That blasted shadow of mine is more cunning than I originally thought it to be. It came across something rare enough that even I had to think twice. How pesky it has become.” Alastor seemed more amused than anything and that had you relieved. “But also quite fascinating.”

Alastor is directing you to your shared bed.

“S-something rare?” You stammer a bit, not sure what Alastor has in mind. “What would that be?” You’re honestly curious about what it could be that he actually changed his mind, it had to be something pretty valuable for him to even consider doing so.

“Nothing you would be interested in.” Alastor answered offhandedly. “I must admit, I am bothered by something my shadow told me last night.” He pushed you lightly onto the bed and before you could fully comprehend his words, he was already in the bed with you, head settled in your lap. “However, I shall forgive you should you forget what you learned last night. Focus yourself on my bleats instead. You believe them to be ‘cute’, correct?”

Bothered?

What was he bothered by? What did his shadow tell him?

How could you possibly forget about his tail?

“Can I ask what?” Your hands shake a bit as they trace the shape of Alastor’s soft ears and there is no bleating, Alastor can control those sounds in a normal state. After a moment, your strokes become more firm and his ears droop a little in response. “I do think your bleats are cute, though.” You quickly say under your breath.

“Hmm, ‘Plain Jane Doe’, is it?”

Ah, damn it!

“You heard Mimzy, she said she meant nothing by it!” You accidentally squeeze down on Alastor’s ears, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care as his red eyes stare a hole into you. “It doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Alastor had called you his mate and that made you happy.

That’s all you could ask for and who cares what Mimzy thought?

“There may have been a bit of truth to what Mimzy said.” Alastor admitted. “I did accompany women to Mimzy’s speakeasy for a dance and drink. I did it to boost my appearance, to look like a normal man. Presenting myself as ‘normal’ is how I got away with killing for as long as I did.” He glanced up to you to see your attentive gaze.

It wasn’t often he spoke of his mortal life, after all.

“Mimzy does have a way with twisting words. ‘Jane Doe’ is a name for an unidentified female victim, isn’t it? She very well knows I never killed a woman as a human. I do wonder if all that alcohol has ravaged any wit she has left. Ṯ̡͒o͂͟ i͔̰̓̑̊m̨̫͈͑ṗ͙̓ḷ̴ͤ̍͟y̡̥̹̌ I̋ͣ w͐͌͋o̡͙̮͚ͥ̉uͭl̛̤ͧ̐̔͞d̙̖ m̪u͊̾͆r͉̹̘̈́̐̀d̵͍̂͜͠é̪ͤͩ͢ȑ m̻ͤ̌͗͝ͅy̸͇ͩ o̠̠͈ͥͭ̀̚w̶͕̚ṋ̽ m̂a̴t̶̹͌̅è͈͉?”

He was getting angry again at the thought of Mimzy.

You smiled, feeling your face grow warm and you couldn’t help but to feel giddy and Alastor’s smile twitched, not sure what your reaction was.

“I’m sorry!” Your smile was blissful and your hands were back at stroking his ears. “I’m just so happy… that you consider me your mate!” Your face must be completely red by now, but you just feel like you’re floating on clouds. “You’re my mate too, Alastor! I-if you want me…”

Your answer was a bleat.

Your head snapped down to look at Alastor, whose eyes were closed, there seemed to be a red tinge to his skin, and his smile was wonky and twitchy, looking as though it was taking everything out of him to keep it a smile.

You say nothing and keep on petting his ears, hearing those soft bleats every once in a while as you tangle your hands in his hair near his antlers. You gave them an experimental stroke, but there is no reaction, much to your disappointment.

“You would have to wait until rutting season for that.” Alastor’s eyes open and he sits up from your lap. “I do believe my previous bother is no longer a bother to me anymore.” He turns to you. “Well done, Darling.”

“Of course!” You’re still riding your little high. “I’ll touch your ears anytime!” You wanted to add to that, that you wanted to touch his tail too, but he wanted you to forget about that and you would.

For now at least.

-----

Taglist:

@chibistar45 @mo-0-o @sirens-and-moonflowers @ashdaidiot

#alastor x reader #x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor smut #alastor's shadow x reader

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mischiefmanagers · 1 year ago

Text

Azriel Fic Rec Library 🦇💙

In no particular order, here's an extensive list of Azriel x Reader or Azriel x OC fics that I've compiled for those who can't get enough of him. I literally maxed out the number of tags/links you can include on a post for this 😂

🌼 personal favorite 🥀 angst 💞 fluff 🔥 smut

by @acourtofmenandthirst

You Called 🥀💞

by @moonlightazriel

Before you 🔥🥀

The truth about you 🥀💞🔥

The family we choose 💞

by @thelov3lybookworm

I Didn't Ask For This 🌼🥀

Finally Safe 🌼🥀

My brother. 💞

by @writingsbychlo

SWEET LIKE SUGAR 🌼💞🥀

false confessions 🌼🥀

how we survive 🥀

by @readychilledwine

Slow Hands 🌼💞🔥

Bound by Fate 🌼🥀💞🔥

Little Bat, Big Dreams 💞

Beauty in Pain 🥀

Devotion 💞

by @leafsandstarlight

Forced Revelations

by @lalacliffthorne

the basic rules of friendship 💞🔥

motorcycle 💞

by @bubbles-for-all-of-us

Hear the lonely cry out 🥀

Can you love me most? 🥀

Baby daddy 💞

by @draemgal

master of disguise 💞

by @azsazz

Nightlight 🥀

Wrong Side of the Right Coin Azriel x Reader x Eris 🥀

Just Hold On 🥀💞

What Lies Ahead

Bleed for Me

by @xoxonyxx

What Should've Been 💞

by @illyrian-dreamer

Spin the bottle 💞🥀

Our girl Azriel x Cassian x Reader 🥀

by @acourtofwhatthefuck

Practice On Me 💞🔥

by @danikamariewrites

Sixth Sense 💞

Shell 💞

Fever Dreams 🥀💞

Please Don't Go 🥀💞

Pointless Fights 🥀

Perfect Princess 💞

by @lidiasloca

more than this 🥀

by @tadpolesonalgae

please... 🌼🥀

washing his wings 💞

Can't Bring Myself To Hate You 🌼🥀🔥

His Personal Assistant

by @mother-above

The Golden Warrior 🌼

by @aquanova99

The Shadow and the Seraphim

by @fieldofdaisiies

Oh Those Romance Novels 🔥

Love's A Burden 🥀

by @ellievickstar

Between Two worlds

by @florence-end

Worst kept secret 💞

Stitch up

by @redheadspark

Reunited 💞🥀

Hold 🥀💞

by @acourtofmarvels

Miracle 🥀

by @bookish-whore

Haunted 🥀

by @honeybeefae

7 Minutes In Heaven 🔥🔥

Shadows of Fire Azriel x Reader x Eris 🔥🔥

by @reverie-verse

Ooops Mating Bond 🌼💞

by @cassiefromhell

Unexpected Azriel x Reader x Eris 💞🥀

by @ladylokilaufeyson5

A Little Helping Hand 🌼💞

I Will Always Find You 💞🥀

by @azrielhours

Soft Spot 🌼🔥💞

I want you to rest 💞🥀

Kiss Thief 💞

Soul Song 💞

Restless Dreams 🥀

Stolen Away 💞

Waiting for You 💞🥀

by @liahaslosthermind

Swarming children and elbows to the face 💞

by @itsphoenix0724

Tickle My Strings 🔥

by @jeannineee

Apology 💞

Umbra et Ventus

Blue and Red Azriel x Cassian x Reader

Stubble 💞

Illyrian Babies Azriel x Cassian x Reader 💞

Closure 🥀🔥

by @violette-hue

Fated 🔥

by @angelshadowsinger

Supposed to Be Together 🥀🔥

Prized Possession 🥀💞

by @callmeblaire

little friends 💞

by @fairydustblossom

tied to you 🥀💞

losing control🥀💞

pre relationship fluff 💞

by @throneofsapphics

up all night Azriel x Reader x Cassian 💞

by @arrantsnowdrop

Starlight 💞

Wrongly Accused 🥀🔥💞

by @clairebear08

Hide and Seek 💞

Betrayal 🥀

by @starlightandsouls

My Angel 💞

Yours To Keep And Cherish 💞

Bookshop Brawls 💞

by @azrielscrown

the secret of seduction 💞🔥

wake me up. 💞

by @glittergelpensblog

Shadow and Song

In the Dark

by @azriels-shadowsinger

brother's best friend 💞

by @xreaderbooks

Two sides 🥀

by @vacant--body

stay with me 🥀🔥

by @whisperingmidnights

We Shall Become Monsters 🌼

by @wishfulwithwine

You Belong With Me 🥀

by @queen--of--shadows

Healing Shadows 🌼

by @ochiolism

winter's frost

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frostbitebakery · 9 months ago

Text

LOUD.

part one two three four five six seven eight nine

“You’ve got something there,” Quin says, gesturing vaguely at his own shoulder.

“I’m aware,” Obi-Wan signs. “It’s some sort of monkey lizard fungus.”

The monkey lizard fungus giggles into his shoulder.

Quin nods grimly. “I heard the only cure is to placate it with sweets and hope for the best.”

Anakin precariously leans over, heels accidentally digging into still bruised ribs.

Obi-Wan bites his lips behind the collar but of course Quin immediately detects his movements turning stiff.

Quin holds out an arm, flexing his bicep with wiggling eyebrows. It has the desired effect and Anakin jumps from Obi-Wan, swinging around the elbow before hooking his knees over Quin’s arm.

“He’s heavier than he looks,” Quin strains out.

They walk to one of the mess halls that’s open around the clock and mainly offers food and beverages to those clinging with teeth to their sanity during exam season.

One of the cramming Padawans looks up from their dozen holo books displaying graphs, and squints at them. “Master Vos, there’s something growing out of your arm?”

“Monkey lizard fungus,” Obi-Wan signs, hiding a smile behind his collar at the Padawan nodding to themselves as if that makes perfect sense.

“What’s with them?” Anakin asks, looking at the sleep deprived tableau and hoisting himself up and swinging one leg over Quin’s shoulder.

“This is your future,” Quin says gravely and Obi-Wan is catapulted to melting stone fire Darkness “You were supposed to be my Master!” yellow familiar eyes from a smoking alive corpse and the grief is ripping him apart “—see once you take your first assignments. The only places you’ll be is either here or the Archives.”

It’s been years since he last had a vision. It’s staggering, his heart thumping in his chest like a clock ticking down the inevitable countdown. But it’s not.

He looks over to Anakin who’s already watching back with wide eyes, the fear in his hands gripping onto Quinlan. “I won’t let it come to that,” he promises, fingers thudding together heavily but he’s still shaking off the vision and Anakin’s fear is a taste in the air by now. He can’t not make promises he only hopes he can keep.

Quinlan is silent during their exchange, gloved hands keeping hold of Anakin. The calculating look in his eyes a guarantee Obi-Wan is going to get cornered later.

“Do you like Depa being your Master?”

Let it be said, paranoia is a common infliction amongst Shadows.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin sighs, voice breaking with puberty and annoyance. “Depa is wizard. She’s amazing even though she’s signed me up to all these classes.”

Obi-Wan looks over all the models, plans, and concepts with added calculations. There’s a data pad displaying language modules and another proclaiming the joys of agriculture. “It’s almost all in the engineering field,” he signs.

“Which makes her so wizard. You’d never have me taking up gardening though,” Anakin adds sullenly.

Don’t yearn for things I cannot give you, Obi-Wan has thought a lot in the past few years as the Galaxy seems to slowly steep in Darkness.

“Knowing what can poison you is important,” he signs, feeling restless and helpless. The mission he’s finished two cycles ago may still reside in his bones.

“I’ll just bite back,” Anakin says, tongue sticking out as he connects wires to ports. He presses a button and the thing he’s been tinkering with since before Obi-Wan left starts to purr smoothly. “Now she can even juice cocadooms,” he says, satisfaction purring just as smoothly in his voice.

“Well done.”

“I know,” Anakin responds airily and swivels around to face Obi-Wan fully. “You’re lurking in the shadows again so let’s get this tradition over with: Depa is an awesome Master and maybe I sometimes wish you’d have chosen me but,” he adds loudly when Obi-Wan lifts his hands to protest, “I also sometimes daydream Master Tiin had chosen me because he’s got his own modded Delta-7.”

The paranoia settles down as Anakin waxes over how wicked the new wing box skins and sensor fusions are, no, truly, you should see them, Obi-Wan!

#loud au #jedi shadow!obi wan #mute!obi wan #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #star wars #star wars au #my art #frostbitebakery art

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moomuzan · 9 days ago

Text

— 𝖇𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖍𝖚𝖘𝖍

they cheat on you?! dazai , chuuya , akutagawa x gn! reader , angst , requested

@vasarii

He had always been a master of deception, a man who wore his masks so seamlessly that sometimes he forgot which face was his own. Dazai Osamu laughed easily, charmed effortlessly, and lied without hesitation, building a labyrinth of half-truths that no one could ever navigate. Lies had become his armor, shielding him from the weight of existence, from the vast and gaping chasm inside him that he dared not confront. But with you, there had been no lies. At least, not in the beginning.

Unrelenting and uncontainable — You were light, spilling into every dark corner of his being with a softness that felt almost cruel. You loved him with a purity that left him raw, vulnerable in ways he had long forgotten how to endure. He had clung to your warmth, to the way you laughed like the world hadn’t yet broken you, to the way you looked at him as though he were worth saving.

But even the brightest light casts shadows.

The affair wasn’t planned; it wasn’t born of desire or need, but rather of restlessness—a momentary lapse, a fleeting distraction, something so meaningless it should have slipped from his mind as quickly as it came. And yet, its weight lingered. He felt it now, sitting across from you at the breakfast table, your laughter cutting through the morning air as you recounted a story he couldn’t focus on.

“You’re not listening, are you?” you teased, tilting your head with that playful grin that always seemed to unravel him.

Blinking, Dazai startled, before forcing a smile that felt too tight on his face. “Of course I am,” he replied, his voice as smooth and practiced as ever.

But even as you laughed, even as you returned to your story, he could feel the suffocating pull of the truth, the invisible thread of guilt tightening around his throat. You didn’t know. That was the cruelest part. You trusted him with a faith so complete it bordered on recklessness. You believed him to be something he wasn’t—someone steady, someone honest, someone capable of being the man you thought you saw when you looked at him.

And Dazai, selfish as always, had let you.

That evening, he sat on the couch, watching as you danced around the small apartment, your energy so infectious that it almost made him forget the ache in his chest. Almost. You were humming along to a song on the radio, spinning lazily as though the world held no weight, as though love were simple and unbreakable and eternal.

“Dance with me!” you called, reaching for his hands with a smile that could have lit up the darkest of nights.

Letting him pull you to his feet, his hands settled on your waist as you swayed together, your laughter bubbling like a melody only the two of you could hear. For a moment, he let himself forget. He let himself believe that this was enough—that he could hold you, love you, and bury the shadows that threatened to consume him.

But then you leaned closer, your voice soft, your gaze so earnest it was almost unbearable. “I love you,” you said, and there was no hesitation in your words, no fear, no doubt. “I love you so much.”

Dazai’s chest tightened, his breath catching in his throat. He wanted to tell you he loved you too, wanted to pour every fractured piece of himself into those words, but they stuck somewhere deep inside him, tangled in the lies and the guilt and the unbearable weight of what he had done.

Instead, he held you tighter, burying his face in your hair as he tried to keep himself from unraveling completely. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your fingers brushing gently against his cheek. “Don’t say that.“

It was the cruelest irony of all—that you loved him for who he was, even though who he was had betrayed you. You saw a version of him that didn’t exist, a man unbroken by the weight of his own darkness, untainted by the cracks that ran so deep he couldn’t see the bottom of them himself.

Later that night, after the world had quieted and you had fallen asleep beside him, Dazai lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The stillness of the room pressed down on him, and his thoughts began to spiral, long and unbroken, like the slow descent of a stone into a bottomless abyss. He thought of you, curled against him, your face soft and peaceful in sleep, your hand resting lightly on his chest as though he were the anchor that kept you steady. And he thought of her—the other person—the fleeting moments, the hollow intimacy, the meaninglessness of it all.

It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even desire. It was an escape—a desperate attempt to outrun the fear that gripped him whenever he thought of how much you meant to him. You were his light, his tether, his salvation, and it terrified him. Because love was fragile, and Dazai had always been the kind of man who broke the things he held too tightly.

The guilt gnawed at him, relentless and unyielding, an ache that went deeper than anything physical. And yet, he couldn’t tell you. He couldn’t destroy the fragile illusion of happiness you had built around him, couldn’t bear to see your face fall, to see the light in your eyes dim. You deserved the truth, but he was too much of a coward to give it to you.

Instead, he turned to face you, his gaze lingering on your sleeping form. You trusted him. You loved him. And in that moment, he hated himself more than he ever had before. Because no matter how much he longed to keep you safe from the jagged edges of his soul, he knew he had already cut you, even if you didn’t yet feel the sting.

But you stayed.

You stayed, even though he didn’t deserve it. Even though you had no idea what you were staying for.

And as the darkness pressed in around him, Dazai realized that maybe that was the most painful truth of all—not that he had betrayed you, but that he could never love you as selflessly as you loved him. And yet, he would stay, too. He would stay in the warmth of your light, even as it burned away the edges of his soul, because he was too selfish to let you go and too broken to let you see the truth.

So he held you closer, his lips brushing the top of your head in a silent apology you would never hear, and prayed to whatever gods still listened that you would never know the depth of his betrayal. Because even if he couldn’t be the man you deserved, he would try. He would try, for as long as you stayed, even if it killed him.

It wasn’t supposed to happen.

Chuuya had built his life on loyalty, on unyielding principles that had always kept him steady. Betrayal was something he despised, something he swore he’d never allow himself to commit. But here he was, a traitor to the one person who had only ever given him love.

And you knew.

When he walked through the door that evening, you greeted him with the same soft smile that always warmed the air between you. “You’re back,” you said, voice so tender it felt like a blade against his chest. You stepped toward him, your arms wrapping around him in that familiar way, and he hated the stiffness in his body, the guilt that coiled tighter every time you touched him.

He knew you could feel it too.

Bitter and sour, it was there in the way your smiles never quite reached your eyes anymore, in the pause that came before you said, “I love you.” You had noticed the perfume that wasn’t yours, the late nights that came with stammered excuses, the way he avoided meeting your gaze.

And yet, somehow, you stayed.

That night, Chuuya sat at the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, his thoughts drowning in the silence that settled heavy in the room. Your footsteps were soft as you padded into the bedroom, the faint glow of the kitchen light framing your silhouette.

“Are you okay?” you asked quietly, your voice laced with a gentleness he didn’t deserve.

Flinching at the sound, his hands tightened against his knees. “Yeah,” he muttered, but the lie felt hollow even as he spoke it.

Weighing the feelings inside, you crossed the room and knelt in front of him, your hands finding his. “You don’t have to lie to me, Chuuya,” you said, your voice trembling just enough to break him further.

He finally looked at you, the guilt burning behind his eyes. “You knew,” he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of his shame. “You’ve known, haven’t you?”

Your gaze didn’t falter, though your eyes shone with unshed tears. “Yes,” you admitted, barely audible.

Thick with everything unsaid, the air between you was suffocating. He wanted to apologize, to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness, but what could he say? What could he possibly do to fix the damage he’d caused?

But then, you smiled. Soft, sad, and so full of love it made his chest ache. “I don’t care,” you whispered, your fingers brushing lightly against his face. “I don’t care about her. I don’t care what you’ve done.”

“Don’t say that,” he rasped, his voice breaking. “You shouldn’t—”

“I love you, Chuuya,” you interrupted, your voice fierce despite the tears slipping down your cheeks. “I love you more than anything. More than my pride. More than my pain.” You swallowed hard, your hands trembling as they cupped his face. “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t care if it’s selfish. I just want you to stay.”

Painfully, he stared at you, his heart twisting. Fuck, he didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve the way you looked at him, the way you still loved him so wholly, so completely, despite everything.

“Why?” he choked out. “Why are you still here?”

Smiling again, your thumb brushed against his cheek as though trying to wipe away the guilt etched into his skin. “Because I know you love me,” you whispered. “Even if you’re too broken to say it, even if you don’t know how to show it.”

Of course, you were right. He did love you—more than words, more than breath, more than anything he’d ever known. But that love terrified him. It made him weak. Vulnerable. And it was that fear, that unbearable vulnerability, that had driven him into the arms of another.

The mafia executive pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your shoulder, his body trembling as he finally let himself break. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, over and over, the words spilling out like a prayer. “I’m so sorry.”

Your fingers stroked through his hair, your voice soft as you murmured, “I know.”

Later that night, as you slept beside him, your hand resting lightly on his chest, Chuuya lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He thought of her—the other woman—and how empty it all had been. It was never love, never even desire. Just fear. Fear of how much you mattered, of how much you had the power to hurt him.

Yet, the only thing that hurt was knowing how much he had hurt you, and how much you still loved him anyway.

You stayed.

And Chuuya didn’t know if that made him grateful—or if it made him hate himself even more.

Akutagawa was not a man of softness. His world had been carved from cruelty, shaped by jagged edges, and governed by a single, unrelenting law: only the strong survive. Love, tenderness, devotion—these were concepts that lived far outside the borders of his reality, things he neither craved nor understood. And yet, you were there, like a persistent shadow in the corner of his existence, refusing to leave despite everything he did to drive you away.

He cheated on you, of course. Repeatedly, with no hesitation and no remorse. It wasn’t about desire or passion, not even about the fleeting thrill of power that came with conquering another. No, for Akutagawa, it was something far more calculated, almost mechanical. He needed to remind himself that he could exist without you, that your love, unconditional and maddening, was nothing but a chain he could snap at any time.

But no matter how many nights he spent in someone else’s bed, he always returned to you. And that irritated him more than anything else.

Because you stayed.

Every time he walked through the door, the scent of smoke and another’s perfume clinging to him like a confession, you were there. You greeted him with a quiet smile, your eyes soft, your voice gentle as though he hadn’t just betrayed you yet again. You didn’t yell. You didn’t demand explanations or apologies. You didn’t even cry.

Instead, you loved him.

It was so silly of you to cook for him, tend to his injuries and press soft kisses to his forehead when he came home battered and bloodied. You whispered words of kindness into the silence, words he didn’t deserve, words that clung to him like a shroud long after you’d fallen asleep beside him.

And it infuriated him. So much.

“What are you smiling for?” he snapped one evening, his voice sharp and cutting. You had been sitting at the small table, waiting for him to come home, and your face had lit up the moment you saw him.

“Because you’re here,” you said simply, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

As Akutagawa’s jaw tightened, his hands curled into fists at his sides. “You’re pathetic,” he spat, the words venomous and deliberate. “You know what I do. You know where I go. And yet, you sit here like some obedient dog, waiting for scraps of affection I’ll never give you.”

Your smile faltered, just for a moment, but it didn’t disappear. “I stay because I love you,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the weight of his words.

Deeply so, he hated that answer. He despised the way it cut through him, sharper than any blade, because it wasn’t laced with bitterness or anger or accusation. It was just the truth, pure and unwavering, and it made him feel more vulnerable than he ever wanted to admit.

Akutagawa turned away from you, his coat swishing behind him as he stalked toward the window, the night air pressing in through the cracks. “Your love is useless,” he muttered, staring out at the city below.

“Maybe,” you said, your tone still calm, still infuriatingly kind. “But it’s yours, whether you want it or not.”

And that was what drove him mad. The way you refused to hate him. The way you stayed, even as he crushed you under the weight of his indifference. The way your love seemed to grow stronger the more he tried to destroy it.

Later that night, as you slept curled beside him, your fingers lightly brushing against his, Akutagawa stared at the ceiling, his mind restless. He thought about the women he had touched, the fleeting moments of distraction that never left a mark. They were nothing, hollow echoes of a need he refused to acknowledge. But you—your presence, your love, your endless devotion—were something else entirely.

Being a mirror, you reflected back the parts of himself he despised most, the parts he tried to bury beneath his anger and his cruelty. And yet, you loved him anyway. You stayed, even as he pushed you to your limits, even as he tore at the edges of your soul with his sharp words and his careless actions.

Turning his head to look at you, his gaze lingered on your sleeping face. You looked peaceful, as though the weight of his sins hadn’t touched you, as though his betrayal hadn’t left scars. But he knew better. He knew you were breaking beneath the surface, even if you refused to show it.

And still, you stayed.

Whit twitching fingers, his hand hovered just above yours, as though he wanted to touch you but couldn’t bring himself to cross that final line. You were his, completely and utterly, and yet he felt more bound by you than he ever had by anyone else.

Because your love wasn’t a chain he could snap.

It was a mirror, and no matter how many times he shattered it, the reflection always returned.

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thesecondhandwoman · 16 days ago

Text

DOING YOUR MAKEUP

Mel x f!reader

Synopsis: Today you decided to try something new and let Mel do your makeup (since you loved her look yourself). But you soon came to realize that even doing your makeup could become intimate with a woman like her.

The golden glow of the late afternoon sun bathed Mel’s chambers in a wash of honeyed warmth. Silken curtains fluttered in the gentle breeze, casting dancing shadows along the marbled floor. A soft, delicate fragrance of jasmine and bergamot lingered in the air—the unmistakable signature of Piltover’s most regal presence: Mel Medarda.

You sat on a plush stool, nerves flitting about your chest like restless birds. You’d never been in her private quarters for this long. Sure, there had been evenings spent talking into the night, and moments of quiet intimacy that spoke volumes. But this? This was different.

Mel stood behind you, poised with a brush in one hand and a palette of shimmering pigments in the other. She was a vision of elegance, clad in a flowing, wine-red gown that bared her shoulders and arms, her gold jewelry glinting softly with every movement. Her hair, perfectly coiled and pinned, framed her face like the work of a master sculptor.

Her gaze flicked to yours in the mirror in front of you—sharp, knowing, and endlessly amused.

“You’re holding your breath,” she said, one perfectly arched brow lifting in mock disapproval. Her voice was like velvet, smooth and rich. “Do you not trust me, darling?”

Your lips twitched into a nervous smile. “I trust you with many things, Mel. My dignity, however, might be another matter.”

Her low, melodic laugh filled the room like the chiming of distant bells. Setting down her palette, she stepped closer, fingers lightly tilting your chin up to face her properly.

“Dignity,” she echoed, eyes narrowing in playful scrutiny. “We can afford to lose a little of that, don’t you think?” Her thumb brushed gently over your cheek, her touch warm and deliberate. “You’ll look magnificent when I’m done with you.”

Heat bloomed under her touch, a warmth that had little to do with the sunlit room. You swallowed and nodded, finding yourself already lost in her presence—as if that were anything new.

“Close your eyes,” she murmured, her voice a soft command.

You obeyed, your heart doing a gentle stutter-step. The world went dark behind your eyelids, leaving only the feeling of her hands and the quiet rhythm of your breath.

Her fingers moved with a painter’s precision, applying a cool, silky base to your skin. It felt like being brushed with clouds, weightless and soft. Her fingertips lingered at your jaw, featherlight, tracing the line there as if committing it to memory.

“Perfect canvas,” she whispered, and you could hear the smile in her voice.

“Flatterer,” you shot back, but your words lacked bite.

Mel hummed knowingly. “I never flatter, darling. I only speak the truth.”

Her fingers left your face, replaced by the soft press of a brush. It swept across your cheeks, delicate as butterfly wings. She worked with a deliberate patience, layering colors and blending them with masterful ease. You wondered if this was how she approached her council work too—precise, unwavering, in total control.

“What color are you using?” you asked, your curiosity winning out.

“Rose and gold,” she replied, her tone light as she brushed along your cheekbones. “Soft warmth. Elegance without effort. It reminds me of you.”

Your eyes flew open despite yourself. “Mel…”

Her eyes met yours in the mirror, golden and molten with quiet affection. For once, she didn’t tease. Her gaze lingered on you, steady as a heartbeat. “Keep them closed, love,” she said softly, and you could do nothing but obey.

Her touch moved to your eyes, and you felt the gentle pressure of her thumb on your brow. Brushes followed, sweeping pigments over your lids. Gold, most likely—bright, bold, and unapologetically regal. You wondered if you’d look like her by the end of it. The thought didn’t bother you one bit.

Time slowed, and for a while, there was nothing but the sensation of her hands on your skin and the steady rhythm of her breathing. You felt her lean closer, her breath a warmth against your temple.

“Tell me,” she murmured, her words curling around you like silk ribbons, “has anyone ever taken this much care with you before?”

You hesitated, not because you needed to think but because the answer was so obvious it almost felt foolish to say it aloud.

“No,” you admitted quietly. “Not like this.”

Her breath hitched just slightly, a sound only someone paying very close attention would have noticed. She didn’t answer, but her hands moved slower, gentler, as if to be sure you felt every stroke, every touch, every moment of her devotion.

“Mel,” you said softly, heart tight in your chest.

“Shh,” she replied, the warmth of her lips brushing your ear. “Don’t ruin my masterpiece.”

Your lips quirked at that, and she chuckled, the sound low and rich.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she stepped back. “Open.”

You did, blinking away the light as your gaze focused on your reflection. Your breath caught.

You looked radiant. No, divine. The blush on your cheeks was subtle but perfectly placed, catching the light just so. Gold shimmered at your eyelids, like twin sunsets caught mid-dusk. Your lips were bare, but somehow, even that looked intentional—natural beauty left untouched, unspoiled.

Your gaze shifted to Mel’s reflection, and you caught her watching you, eyes hooded with a kind of quiet pride.

“You’ve outdone yourself,” you said, your voice hushed in awe.

Mel smiled, slow and knowing, like she had expected nothing less. “Of course I did,” she said, reaching for a small, glossy tube. Her eyes met yours, sharp with mischief. “But I’m not done yet.”

She uncapped it, revealing a deep, wine-red tint. Your eyes tracked its every movement as she turned it in her fingers. Instead of reaching for you, she tilted her head slightly and applied it to her own lips with the care of a woman used to wielding power in every action.

You watched, utterly entranced, as she slowly, deliberately coated her lips with the rich pigment. Her gaze never left yours. She pressed her lips together with a small “mm,” ensuring every inch of them gleamed with fresh color.

“Mel?” Your voice was already breathless.

Her eyes flicked to yours, and the corner of her mouth lifted in a smile so devastatingly sly it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Now,” she purred, setting the tube aside. Her gaze stayed locked on yours as she stepped forward, cupping your jaw in one hand, her thumb grazing your cheek in a slow, hypnotic sweep. “For the final touch.”

Your breath caught, heart thundering in your chest.

Her lips met yours, soft but firm, slow but certain. Heat blossomed where she touched you, a warmth that unfurled in your chest and spread through your limbs. Her kiss was the kind that made the world stop—not forceful, but inevitable. Her fingers splayed across your jaw, anchoring you to her, as if you were something precious that might slip away.

When she pulled back, her eyes flicked to your lips with satisfaction. Her smile widened as she traced her thumb just beneath your lower lip, catching a hint of the red she’d left behind.

“There,” she said, her eyes hooded and far too pleased with herself. “Now you match me.”

You blinked, breath still unsteady, and stared at your reflection. The soft red stain of her lipstick lingered on your lips, faint but unmistakable.

“You planned that,” you accused, lips curving upward despite yourself.

“Of course I did,” she replied smoothly, tilting your chin up with her thumb. “You’re mine, darling. Why not make it clear to the world?”

Her gaze softened then, something tender slipping past her armor. “Besides,” she added, her voice dropping to a murmur, “I rather like seeing my colors on you.”

Your heart swelled, too full for words, so you tilted your head forward and pressed your forehead against hers.

“Careful, Medarda,” you whispered, eyes closing. “I might just fall in love with you.”

Her breath hitched again, but this time, she didn’t hide it. Her fingers curled into your hair, steady and unyielding.

“Darling,” she whispered, lips brushing yours once more, softer this time, more real. “I’m counting on it.”

#mel x you #mel x reader #mel fanfic #mel medarda #mel arcane #mel #arcane fanfic #arcane #lesbian fanfic #lesbian #fluffy fanfic #fluff #fanfic #fanfic writing

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p0orbaby · 11 months ago

Text

Hidden in Plain Sight

summary: a secret relationship? who’d have thunk it? not your teammates

warnings: suggestive themes

a/n: i started this months ago, i hate it, enjoy

word count: 2.4k

Alessia is a good girl.

You’re not.

Alessia wouldn’t hurt a fly.

You’d punch someone in the face if provoked.

On paper it never should have worked. You with your hot head and her with her kindness and smiles. It was a contrast of temperaments that, to most observers, would have appeared incompatible. And it was. To a degree.

“The coast is clear” you assess. “You go first and I’ll hang back so it doesn’t look like we’ve left together”

The two of you have honed the art of sneaking around. Having mastered the delicate balance of staying close without arousing any unwanted attention. It has become an integral part of your daily routine.

Bringing your head back into the storage cupboard you had meticulously scouted, you find Alessia pulling her t-shirt over her head. In turn hiding the blooming bruises on her collar bones you had gifted her only minutes ago.

She looks in your direction, your silhouette barely discernible in the dim light of the weak bulb. Nevertheless, even in this low light, she can sense your intense gaze sweeping over her body. It makes her skin tingle even now.

“Remember not to be too loud when you get back,” she cautions, her voice hushed, laden with the weight of your secrets.

You let out a soft chuckle and nod. “You worry too much,” you tease. “I know the drill”

“But last time-“

You cut her off with a tender kiss, your lips silencing her. And when she hums against you, you can’t help but smirk. “Last time was a mistake. It won’t happen again, I promise” you whisper between kisses. Your hands gently squeeze her waist reassuringly as you hold her close.

Last time was, unfortunate. And in hindsight, staying back to ‘catch up’ in the showers after training was a terrible idea. Especially when it was glaringly obvious that the two of you were both conspicuously absent from lunch. You had managed to explain it away, albeit with raised eyebrows, knowing looks, and indiscreet whispers behind your backs.

The showers had served as a potent warning, a moment of realisation that you couldn't afford to be as reckless as before. This had prompted your shift in tactics, opting for more clandestine meetings in storage cupboards and carefully timed returns to your respective rooms.

"See you tomorrow in training," she whispers, and you can't resist pulling her in for another lingering kiss before she gracefully slips out of the shadows and makes her way back to her room.

“And where have you been?”

A pointed question was asked from across the room as soon as the door clicked shut. You groan internally and roll your eyes in the dark before answering.

“Just getting food” you lie. “I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d go and get something to eat”

Before you knew it, the room was instantly flooded with a harsh, unrelenting white light. It forced you to squint your eyes, trying to adjust to the sudden, glaring beacon that illuminated every nook and cranny of the space.

“Do you mind?” You ask, your hand coming up to shield your eyes.

“You’re a terrible liar, you know that right?”

“I’d love to know what you’re talking about, Greenwood. But I don’t”

Alex was clearly not going to let this go. And if the look on her face told you anything, it was that she was having a very hard time believing you.

You sighed, trying to maintain your composure and stick to the cover story. “I was just feeling restless, so I decided to grab a snack. Promise.” You said, a little harsher than intended. The tension and prying getting to you.

She didn’t buy it for a second, her eyes narrowing. “At,” she looks at the time on her phone, “half past midnight? Couldn’t you have just had the snacks I know you keep in your bag?”

Your heart raced as you struggled to come up with an excuse. “Well, I didn’t want to wake you up with my rummaging around. Thought I’d be considerate”

She still didn’t seem convinced. “Considerate? You’ve never been this considerate before”

You snort at her brutal honesty and shrug. “I just thought it’d be a good idea tonight, you know, change things up a bit”

Alex kept her eyes firmly on you, making you squirm under her penetrating gaze. “So, nothing else?”

“Like what?” You ask knowing full well what she was alluding to. Your heart skipped a beat, and you forced a chuckle to mask your anxiety. “You watch too many spy movies. It was just food, no biggie”

She finally leaned back, seemingly satisfied with your explanation. “Alright, alright, just hurry up and get to sleep will you? We have to be up soon”

You let out a silent breath of relief, grateful that she had finally let it go. “We have to be up in seven hours, you mean?”

“Whatever. I’m cranky if I don’t get my self allocated eight”

Downtime was always hard.

You didn’t want to spend too much time together and make things more obvious than they needed to be. So you chose to distance yourselves when you could. Sitting at different tables when you ate. Splitting up into different groups when you were on rest.

However, this time you had chosen the wrong group to settle down with.

“Russo came back late last night, you know?”

The group of girls all went silent at Tooney’s gossip.

The mention of Alessia’s late return sent a wave of discomfort through you. Your eyes fell on each person, trying to gauge their reactions. You couldn’t afford any slip-ups or suspicious behavior. Ella had unknowingly opened a door to your world of secrets, so you needed to handle this situation delicately.

Millie leaned in closer, eager to hear more. “Late, huh? Wonder what she was up to,” she commented.

You quickly tried to change the topic, “People have their own reasons for being up late sometimes. It’s not that exciting, surely”

Rach, however, wasn’t ready to drop it “like what?” she asked, her curiosity piqued as she nudged Esme and smirked.

Your heart raced, and you glanced at the girl in question. Eating her breakfast a few tables away and none the wiser to how she was the center of this conversation. You cringed at the position you were in. You couldn’t reveal anything without risking your own secret. “I don’t know,” you replied, feigning your indifference with a practiced grimace. “Maybe she was just out for a walk or something”

“In the middle of the night?” Ella chimed in again.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the secret becoming almost unbearable. You needed to change the subject quickly and divert the conversation away from yours and Alessia’s late-night activities. “You know,” you said between bites of food, “I’ve been thinking about suggesting a movie night for all of us sometime. Morgan over here hasn’t even seen The Devil Wears Prada”

You use your fork to point at her, earning a chuckle from the group. The idea of a movie night seemed to be well-received, and they started discussing their favorite films and the logistics of organizing such an event.

Relieved, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

“They’re onto us” you whisper as Alessia marks you on the field. “Alex and Tooney both caught us getting in. It’s only a matter of time before they connect the dots”

Her only response was to block you from rolling past her to catch a through ball. You let it trickle out of play to gain some time.

“Maybe we should lay low for a while” you suggest.

The idea of distancing yourselves further from each other doesn’t sit well with either of you, but it might be a necessary sacrifice to protect your secret and avoid further suspicion.

You both jog back to your positions, your breath slightly elevated from the quick exchange. Alessia’s voice is low, and she contemplates, “Laying low for a while does sound like the safest option. Hempo saw the marks you left. I had to tell her the barbell slipped in conditioning the other day”

“Shit, I’m sorry”

“No it’s fine” she promises, placing a hand in front of you again to keep you back from the ball once more. “I like that you did that”

You weren’t a very bashful person. though your trademark stormy face now blushed uncharacteristically pink at her words.

“Liked that who did what?”

A voice from behind you made you both jump apart. Turning on your heels to find Mary looking between the two of you.

Caught off guard, she stammered “I, that uh, that Y/N finally decided to adopt a dog”

Your eyes bulged at Alessia's excuse whilst Mary’s narrowed as she eyed you suspiciously.

“But you hate dogs”

“No I don’t” you scoff. “Why would you say that?”

Her features twist with confusion. “Because you always complain about pet hair and how they smell”

“Well, I changed my mind” you stated matter of factly.

Alessia chimed in, trying to reinforce the ruse, “It’s true. Y/N had a change of heart after spending time with a friend’s puppy last weekend”

Mary smirked teasingly, “Well, miracles do happen. Maybe having a furry friend will teach you to care about someone other than yourself for a change”

“That’s just rude”

She chuckled back, “I call it like I see it. Anyway, enough with the dog tales. We’re here to train, not discuss pets. Let’s get back into focus mode, shall we? The least amount of goals I have to save the better”

You waited a beat, letting Mary retreat back between the posts before turning to a guilty looking Alessia.

“A dog? Seriously? Now I have to make inquiries at the local shelter just to make sure people don’t think I’m adopting a furball as a cover for getting in your pants”

“I’m sorry. I panicked!”

“This isn’t working” you concluded, running a stressed hand over your face. “We need a better plan, or different roommates. Do you think it’s too late to swap?”

It was dark the next time you saw Alessia.

Lie.

It was dark the next time you spoke to Alessia.

And by spoke you meant you had your tongues down each other's throats.

You were both terrible at keeping your word. You’d agreed, only hours ago, that you’d let the dust settle a little before you made any more sudden movements.

But here you were, Alessia perched on the edge of a conference room table, while you stood between her long legs pulling noises from her as you kissed and sucked at her mouth.

The room was bathed in a soft glow, neither of you deeming it appropriate to meet in the shadows or the dark when you were deep in the belly of the building. The world around you fading away as you succumbed to each other, enough so that the creak of a door evaded the two of you altogether.

“I knew it!” The shrill voice from behind you both made you pull apart from each other. Breathless and on your way to a state of undress. “I told you!”

Caught with your tongues down each other’s throats, and, surprise, the teammates walked in on the clandestine conference room rendezvous. You’re looking breathless, on the brink of undress, and Mary, Alex, and Tooney are grinning like they just uncovered the juiciest gossip of the season.

Which they probably did.

You and Alessia exchange a look, a non-verbal conversation that screams, ‘Well, this just got awkward’.

Mary, the chief investigator of the squad, steps forward, wearing a smirk. “Alright, spill it. How long hm? How long have you been sneaking around?” She demands, as if interrogating prime suspects.

“No! Get out, all of you!” You insist, using as much of you body as you could to cover the blondes dignity.

Alex chuckles, thoroughly enjoying the dramatic turn of her probable evening plans. “Oh, come on, we’re all teammates here. It’s nothing we haven’t, almost, all seen before”

Letting out a groan, you let your head drop to Alessia’s shoulder in defeat. You wanted to floor to swallow you up.

“You didn’t answer her question” Tooney prompts as the three of them wait for details they’re definitely not entitled to.

You turn and square your shoulders, ready to take whatever teasing comes your way. “Long enough to stop pretending that we’re not into each other” you snap.

Alex leans in, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Let’s not kid ourselves. We all knew this was bound to happen”

Tooney adds, “Yeah, the black sheep and the golden girl, what a pair”

You roll your eyes, knowing you can’t escape the judgment.

Mary, though, takes a more serious tone, her eyes narrowing. “Alright, cut the crap. Why’d you drag Alessia into this mess? She’s the only innocent one left on the team, and you, well, you’re the resident wild card”

You scoff, “No one dragged her into anything. She’s not as innocent as you think”

Alessia interjects, he head popping up from behind you. “Guys, stop. I chose this. I made the first move. So back off, yeah?”

The room goes silent momentarily. No one, including yourself, expected Alessia to stand up for you like that. She wasn’t shy, you knew that more than anyone, but she also was never one to dive head first into conflict.

If you were being honest, it was turning you on a little.

Mary smirks, “Well, I’ll be damned. The angel actually has backbone”

You shoot them an exasperated look. “Out! Now!”

In a wave of laughs and whistles, the three of them finally stumble out of the room. The door clicks shut, leaving you and Alessia in a moment of awkward silence.

Alessia breaks into a giggle, “Well, that went well”

You shake your head with a smile, “If by well you mean I’m never going to live this down, then yes, it went exceptionally well”

She wraps her arms around you, “They’ll get over it. Eventually”

You chuckle, your hands coming up to brush hair out of her face, “Yeah, when the next scandal rolls around”

Feeling your tenstion, Alessia leans in, pressing her lips against yours in a calming, distracting kiss. Smiling into it when she feels you melt into her.

Just as you run your tongue over her bottom lip, there’s a sudden knock on the door. Mary’s voice calls out through the wood, “Enough with the love fest, you two. Weve got training tomorrow and we need you both fighting fit”

You share a slightly frustrated glance with Alessia, the interruption breaking the spell once agai. “Alright, alright,” you call back, trying to regain composure. “We’re coming!”

Well, you would be if they left you alone.

#alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #awfc #awfc x reader #engwnt #engwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine

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amarmoria · 3 months ago

Text

Nepenthe Ⅶ

Qimir x Padawan! Reader

Why would your master want a padawan like you when he has his acolyte?

Wc: 2.7k

His eyes landed on the pot still simmering gently over the dying fire, the smell of the stew still lingering faintly in the air. A subtle reminder of your effort, despite the chaotic emotions you’d gone through earlier. He moved quietly, his gaze fixed on your sleeping form, curled up on the cold stone floor with nothing but your tunic to keep you warm. His jaw clenched at the sight.

Good girl. He thought again, but this time, there was an edge to the sentiment. Despite everything, you had stayed here, cooked, waited for them to return—no matter how much it racked your brain. And yet, there was something undeniably satisfying about seeing you this vulnerable, completely unaware of his presence.

He crouched beside you, his fingers hovering near your cheek, close enough to feel your soft, rhythmic breaths but not quite touching. The firelight flickered against his skin, casting long shadows across the room as his thoughts twisted in dangerous directions. You were always so dutiful, so eager to prove yourself, but what did that Jedi make you feel? Was it loyalty? Curiosity? Or was it something else, something deeper?

His eyes narrowed as he watched you sleep. He could kill the Jedi—he had the skills, the connections, and the resolve—but that wouldn’t satisfy the gnawing doubt he felt. What would be the point of eliminating competition if he didn’t know where your heart truly lay? If your loyalty was split, if your desires wandered elsewhere, no amount of violence would keep you his.

He rose silently, his hand finally pulling back from your face. He wasn’t ready to lose control, you, not yet. But you needed to understand your place—your duty to him. And if fear was the only language you could understand, he would speak it fluently.

Qimir turned towards the hearth, picking up a bowl and ladling some stew into it. He took a bite, the rich flavors coating his tongue, but his mind remained elsewhere. He kept glancing back at your sleeping form, the taste of the meal tainted by his brewing resentment.

After finishing, he extinguished the remaining embers in the fire and strode toward his bed. Tomorrow, he will need to do it. There would need to be consequences for your actions—something to remind you who truly owned you, body and mind. He could only hope that, after this, you would finally understand.

---

The next morning, the air was thick with an unsettling quiet, broken only by the distant sound of the wind howling through the cave's entrance. You woke slowly, the cold stone floor stiffening your muscles as you blinked the sleep from your eyes. For a moment, you forgot where you were, but the reality hit you quickly enough.

You sat up, your thoughts immediately clouded by the memory of yesterday’s events. Qimir’s harsh words, the tension between you, and your own spiraling emotions left a bitter taste in your mouth. You rubbed your temples, trying to clear the remnants of a restless sleep.

The cave felt emptier than usual, almost hollow. You glanced around but saw no sign of them. Good. You needed space, time to think, to process everything that had happened without feeling his looming presence over you.

But as you stood and stretched, the familiar weight of dread settled in your chest. What would happen now? Would Qimir tell the master about your encounter with the Jedi? Would there be repercussions you hadn’t anticipated? Your mind raced with possibilities, none of them good.

You busied yourself with cleaning up the remnants of last night's meal, trying to keep your thoughts from spiraling further. As you wiped down the table and scrubbed the pot, you noticed the other bowl empty, surely no animal would use a spoon and cleanly eat on the table, you shrugged and put the cloth down, then you caught sight of something out of the corner of your eye—a small piece of paper, folded neatly and left on the edge of the stone bench.

You frowned, wiping your hands on your tunic before picking it up. The paper was crisp, freshly folded, and bore no markings on the outside. You unfolded it carefully, your heart pounding in your chest as you read the words inside:

'Meet me at dusk. Don’t keep me waiting.'

The handwriting was unmistakable—your master's sharp, angular script. You stared at the note, the weight of his words sinking in.

usk.

He wanted to speak to you, and whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

A knot formed in your stomach as you crumpled the paper in your hand. You had no choice but to go. Whatever your master had planned, it was clear he wasn’t going to let this go easily. You weren’t sure what you feared more—his anger or his silence.

The rest of the day passed in a haze of anxious energy. You went about your usual tasks, but your thoughts were consumed by the looming meeting with your master Every sound seemed sharper, every shadow in the cave darker as the weight of his presence crept back into your mind.

As the sky began to dim and the familiar colors of dusk bled into the horizon, you could feel your nerves tightening like a string pulled taut. The note stayed crumpled in your pocket, as if holding onto it could somehow anchor you to the reality of what was coming, you brought your saber too, safely tucked in your hip, rule no. 2, don't ever let go of your saber, ever.

Finally, you made your way outside, the cold air biting against your skin. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to keep warm, but no amount of heat could fight the chill creeping up your spine. The meeting place was in a secluded corner near the cliffs, away from the cave's entrance where the wind was harsher and the shadows were longer.

As you approached, you saw your master standing with his back to you, his silhouette outlined against the dying light of the day. His posture was rigid, unmoving, and though you couldn’t see his face, you could sense the tension radiating from him like a physical force.

You swallowed hard, your steps slowing as you got closer.

“You wanted to see me,” you called out softly, your voice barely carrying over the wind.

He didn’t turn immediately. He stood there for a moment, letting the silence drag on before finally speaking.

“Do you know why I asked you here?” His voice was low, controlled, but you could hear the strain beneath the surface.

You shifted nervously, feeling the weight of his unspoken accusation. “I... I thought we could talk about—”

Before you could finish, he turned sharply to face you, his expression dark and unreadable. “Talk about what?” he cut in, his tone laced with something that sent a shiver through you. “About how you defied me? How you put everything at risk because of your reckless curiosity?”

You opened your mouth to protest, to explain yourself, but the words caught in your throat. He stepped closer, his presence towering over you.

“You think I didn’t notice?” he continued, his voice dropping lower, more dangerous. “The way you looked at that Jedi. The way you were so eager to listen to his words, as if I haven’t taught you enough.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, a twinge of confusion, how you looked at the jedi? "That's not—"

"Do you even realize what you’ve done?" His voice rose slightly, the mask of calm slipping as he loomed over you. "You’ve drawn attention to yourself, to us. You’ve jeopardized everything because you can’t control your feelings."

His words hit you like a blow, sharp and unforgiving. You hadn’t meant for things to escalate this way, but now, standing here under his intense scrutiny, the weight of your actions felt suffocating.

"I was just trying to understand," you whispered, trying to hold onto some shred of your own reasoning. "I wasn't trying to betray you. I would never do that."

His eyes flashed, something like anger and something else—something far more unsettling—swirling beneath the surface. He stepped closer, so close now that you could feel his breath against your skin.

"Understand?" he echoed, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "There is nothing for you to understand. You belong to me. Not to him, not to anyone else. And I will not tolerate any disobedience."

Your breath caught as his hand came up, his fingers grazing your jaw with a touch that was too soft for the intensity of his words. It was a strange, disorienting contrast—the way his touch seemed almost tender, but his words dripped with possessiveness and control.

"You will listen to me," he continued, his eyes boring into yours. "You will learn your place. And if I ever see you acting against me again... there will be consequences."

You wanted to shrink away, to retreat from the suffocating proximity, but your feet felt frozen in place. His hand slid from your jaw to your neck, his thumb pressing lightly against your pulse. Your heart raced beneath his touch, each beat a reminder of the dangerous line you were walking.

"I'm not afraid of you," you whispered, though the tremor in your voice betrayed the truth.

His head tilts a bit, if only he didn't have his mask, you could've seen him smirking. "You should be."

And with that, he released you, stepping back as if to give you room to breathe—but the tension in the air remained thick, choking. He turned his back on you once more, his voice calm, as if the storm had passed.

Then it came.

The cold, metallic hum of the Sith's crimson blade echoes through the air as it clashes with your own lightsaber, sending a ripple of energy through your body. You're locked in a deadly dance, the red glow of his saber illuminating the setting sun around you. His strikes are quick, calculated, and full of malice—he's testing you, pushing your limits.

You deflect another vicious strike, the weight of his power pressing down on you as your sabers grind together in a shower of sparks. His face is obscured by his hood, but you can feel his eyes boring into you, searching for any sign of weakness.

"You're holding back," he growls, his voice a low snarl. He steps forward, forcing you to backpedal as he unleashes a flurry of brutal, precise strikes. Each one tests your reflexes, your endurance, but you parry and deflect with determination, your body moving almost on instinct.

"I'm not!" you bite back, gritting your teeth as you push him away with a Force shove, creating a brief moment of distance. But the Sith is relentless, immediately rushing back at you with an overhead slash. You raise your saber just in time, blocking the blow, though the sheer force of it sends shockwaves down your arms.

The dark energy radiating from him is suffocating, clouding your mind with doubt. But you push through, focusing on your training, on the rhythm of the fight. He steps to the side, spinning his blade toward your midsection. You pivot, barely dodging the strike, and bring your saber around to counterattack. For a brief moment, you manage to go on the offensive, forcing him to block and evade your strikes.

But he’s fast—too fast. His saber flashes red as it whips toward your face, and you duck just in time. The heat of the blade burns the air inches above your head. Without thinking, you lunge forward, thrusting your saber toward his chest, but he sidesteps with a cruel laugh.

“Is that all you’ve got?” he sneers, sending a shockwave of Force energy that knocks you off your feet and slams you into the cold floor. Your lightsaber slips from your grasp, skidding across the room. Panic floods your veins as he slowly approaches, his lightsaber humming menacingly at his side.

You reach out with the Force, calling your saber back to your hand, but he’s already upon you. His foot presses against your chest, pinning you to the ground. The tip of his blade hovers dangerously close to your throat, its red glow casting eerie shadows on your face.

“You fought well,” he says, his voice dark and mocking. “But not well enough.”

You huff as your saber falls from your hand, your too tired to even pick it up, but the sith in front of you seems opposite.

"Return to the cave. Reflect on what I’ve told you."

You hesitated, unsure if it was truly over, but when he didn’t speak again, you took a shaky breath and forced your legs to move. With one last glance at his rigid figure, you turned and made your way back to the cave, the weight of his warning hanging over you like a shadow.

Inside, the fire had gone out, and the air was cold and still. You collapsed onto the floor, your mind spinning with the events of the evening.

You sat there, staring into the darkness of the cave, your thoughts swirling like a storm. The tension still gripped your chest, refusing to let go. His words echoed in your mind, his possessive touch still lingering on your skin, the surprise duel. You tried to reason with yourself, to find a way to justify what had happened, but nothing made sense anymore.

He had never spoken to you like that before, he was always quiet, judging from far. The man you had once trusted, respected, even admired... now seemed like someone entirely different. The thought sent a shiver down your spine. What had changed? What had you done to make him so... volatile?

Or had he always been this way, and you were only now beginning to see it?

You pulled your knees to your chest, trying to steady your breathing. You weren't afraid of him. You had told him that, years ago didn't you?

Every beat of your heart reminded you of the danger you were in. His words had been a warning, a promise. He would not tolerate disobedience. The consequences, should you defy him again, would be far worse than tonight's encounter. And the way he had touched you—possessively, as if he owned you—sent a ripple of fear through your veins.

But beneath that fear, there was something else. Something deeper, more unsettling. A flicker of defiance.

You weren’t his. Not really. You were more than just an obedient apprentice—more than just a pawn in his game. You had thoughts, feelings, desires of your own, and no matter how much he tried to control you, he couldn't take that away. Could he?

You stood, your muscles stiff from sitting on the cold stone floor, and moved to relight the fire. The warmth spread slowly, but it wasn’t enough to chase away the chill that had settled inside you. The crackling flames offered a momentary distraction, but your mind kept circling back to one thing: the Jedi, what if you just ignored him that day, went on with whatever you wanted to do and left him be?

What had Qimir said to him that caused this reaction from the master? Had you really acted so carelessly? Or was he simply seeing threats where none existed? You couldn’t be sure anymore.

A part of you wanted to push back, to prove that you weren’t weak, that you weren’t just going to roll over and accept whatever he decided for you. But another part of you—the part still trembling from the weight of his words—knew that crossing him again could be catastrophic.

You had no choice but to tread carefully. For now.

As the fire crackled louder, casting shadows on the cave walls, you stared into the flames, thinking of what the future held.

With a heavy sigh, you lay down near the fire, the warmth slowly soothing your aching muscles. Tomorrow was another day, and you would face whatever came. But tonight, all you could do was hold onto the small spark of defiance inside you, hoping it would be enough to carry you through whatever came next.

As sleep began to pull you under, his voice echoed in your mind again, soft but chilling: "You belong to me.”

But no, you thought, your resolve hardening.

I belong to no one.

And with that, sleep finally took you.

#qimir x padawan! reader #qimir x reader #qimir x you #qimir x y/n #qimir #qimir the acolyte #acolyte #acolyte x reader #nepenthe #the stranger x reader #stranger x reader #manny jacinto x reader #manny jacinto #manny x reader

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milswrites · 11 months ago

Text

Hobbies Part 2.

~ Azriel X Reader

Summary: In an attempt to keep Azriel away from Elain, Rhys sends him on a sabbatical to the Day Court. With a lot more free time on his hands Azriel needs to find something to keep him occupied. Unfortunately he meets Y/N who has the annoying habit of not staying away. Can she teach him that there’s more to life than he thought?

Grumpy!Azriel X Sunshine!Reader

Series masterlist

Warnings: Little bit of angst

The days all seemed to blur together. If it wasn’t for his shadows whispering in his ears, Azriel doubts he would even know if it was day or night. The time spent crying in bed at his situation had decreased. Instead, an empty feeling settled in his chest, too exhausted to cry anymore. To tired to spend any more time wallowing, despite the fact Azriel could have sworn he has never slept more in his life.

The food baskets kept on coming, though their arrival at his door weren’t announced by any more knocks. His shadows had began reporting their presence to him, making sure their master was taking care of himself. There was no lingering scent of vanilla in the air whenever he opened the door to snatch them in. Maybe Y/N had given up on him, signed him off as a lost cause and ordered some other member of Helion’s staff to drop the food off outside of the flat. Good, Azriel thought. Maybe this was for the best, to be left alone. That’s what he wanted wasn’t it?

And yet in the moments Azriel’s pain at his abandonment lessened, he would find his thoughts drifting to the woman he had met the other week. How was it possible for one woman to be so happy all the time? Maybe it was the spymaster in him but a part of Azriel felt the overwhelming need to find out more. Surely someone that gleeful had some hidden secrets or ulterior motives. Or perhaps Y/N was just an open book, heart on her sleeve, no reason to be anything other than happy. No trauma from past events or failure in the love department to make her as scarred and bitter as Azriel was.

He struggled to pull his thoughts away from her as he got up for the day to make breakfast. At least he was eating properly now, food a little easier to stomach as his emotions settled down. And yet Azriel still couldn’t escape the hollowness inside him.

The boredom he had felt since his arrival still remained. There were moments when Azriel thought back to what Y/N said and thought if only he did have a hobby he enjoyed doing to pass the time as the days felt longer and longer from his lack of activity. The sketchbook gifted from Y/N still lay open on the floor from when he threw it but Azriel had no intentions of picking it up and drawing. He wasn’t like Feyre, who could transform all her emotions into beautiful pieces of art.

In some meagre attempt of crushing his restlessness in the flat, Azriel had began doing the one thing he knew how to do best. Train. It wasn’t the most efficient thing training in the flat. He had no equipment other than truth-teller and a few other daggers. He hadn’t packed for a long trip, expecting Rhys wasn’t serious and would come and retrieve him after a week or so.

That clearly wasn’t happening, and so in effort of building a routine to follow, Azriel got back to training. He would wake up, do pushups, eat, throw his daggers at the wall imagining they were Rhysand’s face, eat, sleep and repeat. It was dull work but Azriel found a fraction of satisfaction from simply having something to do.

Yet another day had arrived and Azriel woke up, ready to start his now regular exercise when there was an enthusiastic knock at his door. He didn’t need his shadows to tell him who it was. Only one person could have a knock as annoyingly bubbly as their personality. His rage had simmered down over the past few days, a slither of guilt taking its place at the way he had treated Y/N during their first meeting, after all she was only doing her job. Yet Azriel did still have the want to be alone. Sighing, as he stood up from where he was on the floor, strong arms under him as he was set to do push-ups. She was probably here with another food delivery, just to check he was still here so she could report back to Helion and move on to another job. He would answer, so only that she could leave him in peace once it was done. His form of a feeble apology for the other day.

Azriel opened the door and looked down at Y/N, eyes immediately snapping down to her body.

“What in cauldron’s name are you wearing?”

Azriel snapped his mouth shut, not meaning to voice his thoughts. But what did she expect to hear when she had come to his door hair tied up in a ponytail, wearing only a pair of short leggings and a small, tight bralette, both the most violent shade of pink. Not a basket of food in sight.

Y/N grinned at his shock holding her arms out and sticking a leg forward, showing off her outfit. “You like it? It’s no Illyrian leathers but it’s all I had and I thought it would do!”

Unable to stop his curiosity Azriel replied, “do for what? I’ve seen prostitutes with more clothes on than you.”

“For training,” Y/N replied simply, smile still on her face unaffected by his comment, “need to be able to move around, right? I’ve never actually done any training but it seemed like the right thing to wear.” This confused Azriel, had she really never had any form of training? But then he reminds himself that females in other courts, even ones in his own, aren’t as lucky as the women who make up the inner circle, the only women Azriel really spends time with. Being able to fight is a luxury most women aren’t able to have. He swallows the lump of anger that builds in his throat at the thought of yet another woman unjustly treated by the system.

“So why are you here then if not to bring food” Azriel presses on, eager to finish up this conversation and head back inside before his eyes can wonder any more than they already have.

“I just told you silly. I’m here to train. Well not here here,” Y/N leans to the side glancing past Azriels shoulder to the wall inside his flat, covered in holes left by his dagger, “I don’t think your poor flat can take much more. We’ll go to the grounds nearby.”

Dumbstruck, Azriel just stands there, mouth hanging open slightly, a noise of confusion unwittingly slipping out, all the while Y/N stands there smiling at him expectantly. “You said that’s your hobby right? Thought I’d try something new and who better to ask than you who’s surely had hundreds of years of experience,” her words were laced with excitement.

Wanting nothing more than to desperately get out of yet another annoying situation Y/N had forced him into Azriel looked for an excuse, “Doesn’t Helion have people for this kind of thing? Get one of them to help you.” With that he started to pull the door to, only for it to get stopped by your foot.

“Please,” Y/N begs, “I know you have nothing else to do and I’d really like to try this I just can’t trust myself to get it right.” Azriel wasn’t sure whether the batting of her eyelashes or the widening of her doe-like eyes was intentional or not but he cursed himself for falling for it all the same. The temptation of leaving the flat and the itch to get in some proper training after being cooped up for so long was overwhelming.

He stared into those wide, hopeful eyes and cursed himself. “Fine”, he relented, “Just this once.” Y/N squealed and for a moment he could have sworn she was going to throw herself on him in celebration, but thankfully she held her ground, instead rocking backwards and forwards onto her heels in excitement.

Already in suitable clothes for training and not wanting Y/N to see any more of the mess inside his flat, Azriel steps out and pulls the door too. Sighing he says, “let’s get this over with” as he follows Y/N who was walking out the building with a spring in her step.

It didn’t take long for them to walk to the training grounds, Azriel making note of where it was so he could come back another day to train alone. Thankfully Y/N didn’t initiate any awkward conversation while they walked, seemingly smart enough to understand that if she did anything to annoy him he would likely leave her and head back to his flat. Instead, she opted for her sweet humming that ignited something in his shadows, causing them to dance around their feet as they moved.

The longer he was outside in his thick Illyrian leathers, the more he understood Y/N’s risqué clothing choice. He hadn’t even started training yet and he already had an uncomfortable layer of sweat forming under his clothes.

The two finally came to a stop in the middle of the arena and Y/N stopped her humming to look up at Azriel in anticipation, “now what?”

“Now we stretch and then we move onto working on your balance” Azriel shrugged and silently began his usual warm up exercises.

“That’s it?” Y/N asked smile dropped and brows furrowed as she attempted to follow Azriel’s lead when it came to the stretches, “what about fighting or swords or… anything more exciting than that?” Clearly expecting to have a much more interesting time in the area than Azriel had planned.

Exhaling, Axriel extended his arm and lightly shoved Y/N’s shoulder and with little force necessary she went flying to the ground with a shriek. “Balance is important” he spoke, unable to stop the small traces of a smile that had worked their way onto his face, finding some joy out of pushing Y/N to the floor.

Now it was Y/N’s turn to huff as she dragged herself up off the floor and dusted the dirt off her new clothes she had just bought for this occasion. “Alright boring stuff it is” she said, and Azriel had to try ignore the strange tug in his chest he felt when he saw the determined grin that flashed across her face, rubbing the area to try soothe the senstation.

It wasn’t until their session was four hours in that Azriel realised she was hopeless. Y/N had grown bored of basic stretches and balance and had insisted they move onto footwork even though Azriel insisted she wasn’t ready. “What are you even doing?” He exclaimed, not understanding how someone could trip over their own feet a total of six times in the last five minutes, “there’s newborn babies that move more gracefully than you do.”

His insults did nothing to put you off from trying again. And again. And again. If there’s one nice thing Azriel could say about you, it was that you were clearly made of strong stuff. It beat him how you could be failing this miserably at training while simultaneously receiving insults he spat at you and still have a smile on your face.

“I’m getting there,” she panted, getting back up from the floor for what felt like the millionth time, “I’ll be able to take you on soon enough.”

Azriel smirked at this, “I doubt you could even lay a finger on me if you tried.” An endearing twinkle appeared in Y/N’s eyes.

“I’ll have you know, Azriel, I take challenges given to me very, very seriously” Y/N said as she lifted her fists and widened her stance in preparation for a fight. Azriel, took a lazy step towards her, cocky smirk appearing on his face, “bring it sweetheart.”

Y/N dashed forward and surprise flashed across Azriel’s face, he hadn’t expected her to be so quick. Intimately, it didn’t make much of a difference though as Azriel’s own quick reactions and hundreds of years worth of more experience allowed him to step to the side, causing Y/N to go barreling past him before skidding to a halt and turning back to face him. “Oh come on” she wined.

“Just one hit” Azriel teased, holding up a finger. Gritting her teeth, Y/N balled her fists once more, ready to try again. Just like the time before she ran right at him, only this time instead of stepping aside, Azriel grabbed her wrist as her fist headed towards his chest and used his strength to flip Y/N over his shoulder, causing her to land on her back on the dirt floor. Amusement filled his eyes as he glanced down at her struggling to catch her breath.

Accepting defeat, an exaggerated groan left Y/N’s mouth as she pushed herself up into a sitting position, rubbing her head where it had collided with the ground. And yet, even after being tossed like a sack of flour over Azriel’s shoulder, that unwavering grin was still present.

“Next time,” Y/N wheezed out, winded from the fall, “Next time we’re doing something I find fun.”

All Azriel could do was release a small laugh as he held out a hand to help her up from the floor.

After another hour of ‘disgustingly horrific torture no sane human would choose to do for fun’ they had both decided to call it quits for the day, and as Azriel was walking out the arena, satisfied at the day of training, Y/N called out to him that she would see him real soon, to which he only replied with a playful scoff.

It wasn’t until Azriel arrived home that he realised he had gone a full day without even thinking of Elain and how infuriated he had been by the situation he was forced into. And as he made his way to the kitchen for some food, stomach rumbling after training, Azriel couldn’t help but let out a small smile to himself as he thought about Y/N. Maybe this sabbatical wouldn’t be as bad as he thought.

Part 3

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Tag list:

@thelov3lybookworm

#acotar #fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #acotar imagine #oneshot

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tendermiasma · 3 months ago

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Anonymous asked: Did Clover help Halsin with the shadow curse etc, or is their story divergent from the game?

He did, in time. In the Shadowlands he felt exposed and vulnerable with nowhere to run. When the party started ordering him down from taking extra watches he exhausted himself with concealment spells. Halsin in particular seemed concerned with his welfare, encouraging him to rest, which made Clover vow never to close both eyes again. Halsin's entanglement with the Fey made him, in his eyes, his greatest threat. Halsin's want to keep him close felt like

a hound guarding his master's kill, waiting for his return. He'd walked in darkness before and braved the Shadowfell when the little thing inside him that his whole life kept him alive, that screamed and screamed to run or die, reached a fever pitch. It ended poorly.

It pained Halsin more and more that Clover looked at him with such confused mistrust, that he shrank from him. He should let someone alone who clearly wanted nothing to do with him. A sting was natural, but knowing that it was what one wanted had always made it easier to part ways in the end. It made him restless. A pit opened in his stomach when he'd reach to relieve Clover of the heavy water pail to douse the fire and watch his gaze immediately struggle to find its sharpness under a bleary sleeplessness thick with nights spent holding up wards while the Weave frayed around him. Halsin's eyes roamed the treeline but he only thought of how Clover froze at his approaching footfalls at the change of watch. Halsin felt childish, selfish even. Why couldn't he just let this be? He knew why. Something was deeply wrong-- he was a healer and saw in Clover an injury of a different kind. He wished he could convince himself it was the only reason. He had never been a good liar, but this was the first time he cursed himself for it.

It was he who carried Clover back to the firelight and kept him in his own tent to recover. As kind as Halsin was, it was unwise for anyone to keep Clover from him then.

In its unfamiliar warmth was the first time Clover ever spoke of what happened to him. He spoke in the weight of forests holding lost years and spells and a man in the bones of an owl. It all lay about in a half-light, a moonlight throwing long shadows on what he could not say, what he could not remember, what choked him from fear to even whisper.

While he was unable to leave-- due to his physical state and later Halsin's strong insistence-- they had many hushed hours to spend together. It was the first time Clover noticed the heaviness in Halsin's eyes that would part like clouds for the sun when there was something to be done. Clover softened under Halsin's murmured conversation and learned not to pull from his hands. He was only able to stand so much though; Halsin's intentioned touch was overwhelming. It was gentle and mindful and consumed his entire senses and made him want to bolt for the Shadowfell once more. He wanted to cut out every part of him that Halsin's hands had touched because he wanted to think of anything else besides the memory of them lingering on his skin. He wanted Halsin to never stop touching him. He wanted to set the tent on fire.

The warm and deep scent of the blankets and furs that Halsin piled around him was intoxicating and dangerously comforting to Clover. He put nettles under his cheek to keep himself from falling asleep. It sometimes wasn't enough. When Halsin drew close, Clover was enveloped in the same scent.

It took a great amount of trust for Clover to finally help Halsin lift the Shadow Curse and rescue Thaniel. He began to see Halsin's true heart when he very nearly made the whole world stop for him, just by giving him a place to be and a little bit of care without Clover having to look over his shoulder. Even if he still watched, he watched him differently. He defended the gateway with a ferocity and sense of purpose he could never remember feeling before; that something had meaning now. He knew the thing that Halsin would carry back with him. He did not know what he would do. But the little animal that lived in him that always told him to run was waiting for him, too.

#halsin #clover #cloverhoney #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #one day ill organize lore... uh huh

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azen13 · 4 months ago

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I’ve never been to a Starlight Pawnshop before…just look at all this stuff. Too bad I can’t buy everything in this store.

Wait a minute, who left this Chess Piece out by itself? No matter, I’ll gladly take it, even if I’ve never played a single game before in my life!

A Losing Game

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Chess Pawn: A finely-carved chess pawn. If life is a chessboard, then so too are people pawns in other's games. Based on this pawn’s pristine condition, whoever controlled it loved it quite dearly.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

CW: Yandere Themes, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Gaslighting

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Jing Yuan is an accomplished man. As the General of the Xianzhou Luofu, he has accumulated a list of titles and achievements that could fill a thousand archives: master of foresight; skilled with a glaive; voted “Most Attractive Bachelor” of the Xianzhou Luofu five years in a row. And, of course, his prowess at Starchess.

Yes, Jing Yuan is very, very good at Starchess. One of the best in the entirety of the Xianzhou Alliance, if not in the entire galaxy. While his knowledge of opening lines could be considered weak for his level of gameplay, after he gets settled, he excels at slowly cutting off his opponent’s options, until reaching the endgame.

In Starchess, the endgame is extremely important. A poorly-played endgame can lead to a crushing defeat, while quick thinking and clever maneuvering of pieces can allow a pawn to be promoted to a queen, which can then help propel a player to victory.

While Jing Yuan is good at Starchess, he is almost undefeatable in the endgame.

Until today.

The ring was perfect and understated, a band of solid gold engraved with delicate patterns. He knew everything about you from years of dismantling every thread of your being apart, and knew you didn’t care for things that were too gaudy and outwardly luxurious. The night was perfectly planned: a picnic beneath the starlit sky, constellations framing your face like a crown. He had hidden the ring at the bottom of the basket, beneath a beautiful meal of the finest the Luofu had to offer. And you were going to be there, boundless in beauty and grace, sharp as a sword and sweet as sugar.

Tonight, though, Jing Yuan tastes the sea on his lips.

How long has it been since he has cried? Centuries, he thinks, standing in the foyer of his home, the front door slightly ajar. A biting wind snaps its jaws at Jing Yuan through the opening, but he cannot feel it. He can hardly feel anything.

The numbness spreads from his heart outwards as he moves, first forwards to shut the door. A brief glance outside, and he can still imagine you standing there. In better circumstances, you and him would have gone to Fyxestroll Gardens, and enjoyed a quiet night. He would have proposed. You would have accepted. Everything would be right in the world. But when Jing Yuan opened the door, what greeted him was the greatest misfortune he had ever faced.

You stood outside, jagged shadows stretching like scars across your face, your posture guarded, your face unreadable. At first, Jing Yuan assumed you just had a terrible day, perhaps because of your job, perhaps because of something else. But then you began to speak, poison spilling from your lips, killing both you and him. He knows this is a grave mistake, but you have already drowned in these lies.

As you walk away from him, Jing Yuan makes a vow to himself: he will not let you leave. No, not like this.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Without you by his side, safe and secure in his loving embrace, the General’s night is restless; as he tosses and turns, he replays the memories of hurt again and again in his mind, trying to wrap his head around your reasoning so he can dismantle it when he has you again. He may have unknowingly made a blunder, but he will still win this game, the most important game of his life.

Maybe a stop by the Alchemy Commission–your workplace–is necessary, no? Last time he heard, investigators are still clearing out spies from the Disciples of Sanctus Medicus hiding amongst its members.

Jing Yuan takes a moment to check his schedule, a relaxed smile falling on his face. He still has several hours before his first meeting of the day. Enough time to bring you back home, where you belong. A brief flash of uncertainty courses through his body, like a chess player second-guessing their plan, before he steadies himself. This is for your benefit, he tells himself. With all the dangers on the Luofu, someone like you cannot simply remain unprotected.

With a calm and patient gait, the General of the Luofu makes his way to the Alchemy Commission.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

He scrutinizes the cramped halls of the building you work in carefully, noting a pawn here, a bishop there. All people, yet all pieces in the game of love, and the inevitable, complete conquering of your heart. Perhaps they are playing their own games, but they do not matter. In this game, they are Jing Yuan’s pieces to move. Before today, they may have been your pieces. But while the game of life and the game of chess share many similarities, they are not one in the same. Life’s board flips and moves, expands and shrinks. Pieces change allegiances, or disappear and reappear entirely.

The board is not on your side today. You don’t even notice Jing Yuan watching you from the hall, preparing your doom. Within moments, he strides in the room, his lazy gait and relaxed expression taking control over the room and its occupants–including you–in mere seconds. Shocked faces spread like lightning, from healer to healer, before striking yours. You stand in complete terror, as Jing Yuan claims you with a simple glance, before speaking in an authoritative tone, booming like thunder.

“Mx. L/N, you are hereby arrested.” Eyes that once melted with fondness when simply seeing your face now bore into you with frigid disgust.

You can’t help but flinch from the words, mouth agape and mind blank. After a moment, you manage to collect yourself, disregarding the stares of those around you. “Excuse me? What for?” You demand.

Jing Yuan tilts his head, looking down at you. “Sedition against the Xianzhou Luofu through serving the Plagues Author and the Disciples of Sanctus Medicus,” he cites, taking a stride forward, arms snapping to lock your limbs behind your back like shackles. “You will be taken to the Seat of Divine Foresight and given a proper sentencing for your crimes.”

Try as you may, your shouts and screams of vehement denial do you no good as Jing Yuan walks you out. Streets pass you by like snapshots of a past life. You can see the tea shop where you and Jing Yuan went on your first date. His favorite restaurant to order takeout from. The balcony overlooking the Ambrosial Arbor where he first kissed you. Thousands upon thousands of moves, each and every one thought out to perfection. Countless gambits taken, small victories celebrated, and little defeats mourned. You had nearly defeated him. Or so you thought.

Eventually, you make it to the Seat of Divine Foresight, Jing Yuan’s arms still vice like in their hold, yet not tight enough to hurt. You try to follow the turns the General takes–a right, a left, another left, up a flight of stairs, right again–but your focus wanes.

You are not guilty of any crime.

At least, so you think. Because you committed a grave offense: breaking the weak, feeble heart of your lover.

A lifelong sentence is only fair, no?

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

“My dearest, why must you struggle?” Jing Yuan murmurs as he pulls you into a small room with only a table and two chairs. Pulling you away from the door, the General gently places you on the ground, and remains by the exit, cutting off any chance of escape you may have.

“Why must you falsely accuse me?” You retort, voice flickering with fire and burning bright, even amongst all the encroaching darkness.

Jing Yuan’s soft smile slowly dissipates into a frown, the shine in his eyes dimming away into nothingness. “Y/N, I have been nothing but patient with you. I have explained why I must protect you. You understood then. Why can’t you understand now?” Slowly, like he’s trying to comfort a skittish animal, Jing Yuan inches towards you, arms outstretched inviting you into his embrace.

“Because you’re a psycho!” You hiss, stepping backwards. Despite your insult, the General does not anger. Instead, disappointment flashes across his face. He takes another step forward, effectively cornering you.

With a quiet, hushed tone that echoes in the room like a hollow breeze, Jing Yuan’s arms find their way around your torso, pulling you tightly against him. Regardless of how much you struggle, you cannot escape Jing Yuan. “You don’t think that, love. You’re afraid. That’s okay. That’s why I’m here. To care for you. To protect you. To love you. Don’t you want that?” He asks quietly, letting you wear yourself out until you melt in his hands like putty, exhausted in every sense. A few moments of utter silence pass, before he speaks up again. “Why don’t we go home now? I have a surprise waiting for you.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The moment you return home, Jing Yuan locks the door. To protect you from yourself, he says. Though that’s a condensed version of his actual words, which are far more persuasive, spinning you around in a whirlwind of logic and reasoning you can’t seem to keep up with.

Only a second later, the General is down on one knee, a ring in hand and a glint of fire in his eyes. For a moment, you think the look is a soft, gentle thing. But then you see it for what it is: a love so warped it cannot simply be called love anymore.

As much as you want to reject his proposal, to slap him across the face and attempt to spark another uprising against his smothering love, you know it would do you no good. He would only force the ring on your finger and crown you his spouse, whether you liked it or not.

Checkmate.

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badathumanemotions · 3 months ago

Text

Needy

Elle Greenaway x Gender Neutral Reader

MDNI Master List Category: Smut CW: Afab Reader, Dirty Talk, Oral Sex, Dom/Sub, Vibrator, Mirror Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Aftercare. WC: 4,213 You've been needy all day for Elle, following her around like a lost puppy. Until finally she takes pity on you. (Not Proof Read)

You've been trailing behind Elle all day, your eyes fixed on her every move. Currently she's engrossed in her book, her fingers gently holding the book open, her eyes scanning the words. You wish those eyes would look at you, even for a moment, to acknowledge the silent plea you've been sending her way. Your body craves her touch, a craving that's been growing stronger as the day went on.

You hover at the edge of the couch, unsure if you should disturb her. It's like you're a lost puppy, hoping she'll drop her book and come over to pet you, to give you the attention you so desperately need. You've tried to be patient, to let her have her space, but it's becoming increasingly difficult.

Elle's eyes flick up from the pages, meeting yours briefly before returning to her book. She knows. She's been watching you, observing your restlessness, the way you've been trying to get her attention without actually saying a word. It's a silent dance the two of you have been doing all day, and she's enjoying it.

But now, as the shadows grow longer with the setting sun, she senses the urgency in your gaze. She sets her book down, creating the sound of pages slapping together. "You've been needy today" she says. She doesn't make it a question, but you nod anyway.

Elle motions for you to come over to her with a crook of her finger, the gesture stirring something in you. You feel your heart quicken, the anticipation of what's to come pulsing through your veins. You obey without a second thought, crossing the room to stand in front of her.

"On your knees," she says firmly. You drop to your knees, looking up at her with wide eyes that beg for more. She smiles, a knowing smile that tells you she's going to give you what you want, but on her terms.

Her hand reaches out to stroke your cheek, the softness of her touch setting your skin on fire. You lean into it, savouring the sensation, your eyes fluttering shut.

"What do you need, baby?" she asks. The question hangs in the air, loaded with meaning, a silent invitation for you to open up, to tell her exactly what it is that you crave.

You suddenly turn shy, not answering. Your cheeks flush and you drop your gaze to the floor. You're not used to being so forward, but today you're desperate for her.

Elle wasn't having it. She cups your chin, tilts your head back up to meet her gaze. "Tell me," her voice a command.

You swallow hard, trying to find the words to express the desire that's been consuming you. "I… I want to taste you," you finally manage to say, your voice barely a whisper.

Elle's smile widens, a hint of amusement sparkling in her eyes. "And why should I let you?" she challenges. Enjoying the power play, how you squirm under her scrutiny.

You promise to be good, to do anything she asks, to give her what she wants in return. The words spill out of your mouth, earnest and hopeful. You've never felt so vulnerable, but with her, it's safe to be this exposed.

Elle's eyes narrow slightly, considering your proposal. She leans back into the couch, watching you intently. "Anything?" she repeats, raising an eyebrow.

You nod fervently, your eyes steady on hers. "Anything," you reaffirm.

With a smirk, Elle says, "That's a dangerous thing to promise, sweetheart," before commanding you to strip.

You stand up, your hands shaking slightly as you pull your shirt over your head, you drop it to the floor, leaving you topless and in jeans. She watches you, her eyes raking over your body, as you undo the button and slide the zipper down. Your legs feel wobbly as you push your jeans down your thighs, stepping out of them and kicking them aside. Your panties are the last to go, leaving you bare before her.

She doesn't say anything, just continues to watch as you get onto your knees. You know what she wants, what she expects.

Elle rises from the couch with the grace of a panther, her movements slow and deliberate. She takes a step closer to you, and you can feel the heat radiating from her body. She places a hand on your shoulder, her fingers digging in just enough to make you aware of her strength, of the power she holds in this moment.

With the other hand, she unbuttons her pants and slides them down her long, toned legs. You watch, entranced, as she steps out of them, leaving herself in just a pair of panties and a white tank top.

Elle sits back down on the couch, spreading her legs open in a gesture that leaves no room for doubt. She's giving you access, inviting you in. You can see the dampness on her underwear, a sign of her arousal. Your mouth waters at the sight.

Without wasting another moment, you dive in, pressing your face between her thighs. The fabric of her panties is soft against your skin, but it's the scent of her, musky and sweet, that makes you go wild. You begin licking her through the fabric.

Even with the barrier of her underwear, you're more determined than ever to give her pleasure. You run your tongue along the seam, feeling her heat, her legs quiver slightly. You know she's enjoying it, but you want more. You want to taste her, to hear her moan, to feel her shudder with every touch of your mouth.

Summoning your courage, you gently push the fabric aside with your thumb. The skin beneath is hot and slick with anticipation. You hesitate for a moment, waiting for her reaction. When she doesn't protest, you take it as your cue. Your tongue darts out, tasting her for the first time.

You hmm happily as you lick and suck, her desire coating your mouth. Your eyes close in pleasure as you explore her folds, your nose bumping into the warmth of her sex. Her hand finds your hair, guiding you, urging you deeper.

Elle's breath hitches, and she lets out a low moan that vibrates through you, making your own arousal spike. You can feel yourself becoming pussy drunk, intoxicated by her taste, her scent, her response. Your own wetness begins to drip down your thighs as you eagerly devour her.

Her hips start to rock slightly, guiding your movements, setting the rhythm. You follow her lead, sucking harder, your tongue flicking and swirling around her clit. The sound of your wet mouth on her flesh fills the room, punctuated by her gasps and whimpers.

With both hands, you grip her hips firmly, your nails digging into her skin. The pressure you apply leaves faint white lines that stand out against her tanned skin. You can feel her muscles tighten beneath your fingers as she pushes against your face, grinding into your mouth.

You switch between quick, delicate kitten licks and sloppy, obscene slurping, your tongue swirling around her clit in a dance of pleasure. You're lost in lust, the only thing that matters is her satisfaction.

Elle's hand tightens in your hair, pulling you closer as she nears her climax. Her thighs clench around your head, trapping you in a vice. You don't mind; you crave it, the feeling of her body responding to your every touch.

When she finally cums, it's with a guttural moan that fills the room. Her body shakes, her hips bucking up to meet your mouth as she rides the wave of pleasure. But even as her orgasm subsides, you can't stop. You're lost in the taste of her.

Elle's grip on your hair loosens, and she pants heavily, her chest rising and falling. She's sensitive now, but you're relentless. You keep licking, savouring her taste. She squirms under you, her legs twitching.

You can feel her starting to build again, her breath catching. She whispers, "Fuck, don't stop," and you don't. Your tongue swirls around her clit, pressing firmly before moving down to taste her deeper. You're insatiable, driven by a hunger that's only grown with each of her moans.

Her legs tighten around your head, her nails scratching at your back as you lick and suck, your tongue delving into her wetness. The sound of her breathing changes, becomes ragged, her body arching off the couch. She's close, so close, and you want to push her over the edge again.

Your tongue works in tandem with your fingers, slipping inside her, feeling her clench around you. The walls of her pussy pulse with each thrust, her juices coating your hand. You feel her orgasm building, the way her muscles tense, the way her breath turns into panting.

Elle's hands are in your hair, guiding you, her nails scraping at your scalp. It's a delicious kind of pain that only adds to the intensity of the moment. You can feel her getting closer, her hips jerking against your face, her moans growing louder.

You love when she grinds her hips against your mouth, when she takes her pleasure from you so unabashedly. It's a power play and you're all too happy to be the one serving her needs. Her legs tense around you, trapping you in place as she uses your mouth for her own pleasure.

Her moans become more erratic, her breathing hitches, and you know she's close. With a final, guttural cry, she comes again, her body shaking with the force of her climax. You don't stop, though, you keep licking and sucking, her pleasure your own. Your own pussy is throbbing now, begging for attention, but you ignore it, focusing solely on her.

Elle's grip on your hair loosens, and she slumps back into the couch, panting. But you're not done yet. You keep going, your tongue relentless as it laps at her clit, feeling the aftershocks of her orgasm quiver through her. She's so sensitive now, every touch sends a new ripple of pleasure through her body.

Her hands come up to cover her face, muffling the sounds she makes. You can feel her thighs quiver against your cheeks, and you know she's trying to hold back. But you won't let her. You want to hear her scream, to feel her shake with pleasure.

Your tongue doesn't stop, it keeps moving in the same pattern, the one that brought her to the brink before. You're relentless, your mouth working tirelessly as you push her towards another climax.

Elle's hips jerk upward, her hands now gripping the couch cushions. She's trying to find purchase, trying to anchor herself as the waves of pleasure threaten to overwhelm her. But you won't let her escape. Your hands hold her hips in place, keeping her open to your relentless mouth.

The familiarity of the sensation sends her spiralling, her body responding instinctively. You feel her building again, her muscles tightening around your fingers. She's so close, and you can't help but feel a sense of pride at how quickly you've brought her to this point.

With one final, hard suck, her body tenses and she cums again, her pussy contracting around your fingers, juices spilling onto your hand. You drink her in, savouring every drop, her taste like a drug you can't get enough of.

Elle's legs fall apart, and you pull away, panting, your face glistening with her arousal. You look up at her, and she's watching you with hooded eyes, her chest heaving. "Good girl," she murmurs.

You lean back on your heels, feeling the warmth of your own need between your legs. "Elle," you breathe, "I need you now."

Her eyes narrow. "You're lucky I love that talented mouth of yours," she says. "Or else I'd punish you for being so greedy."

You whine slightly, your cheeks reddening. You know she's playing with you, but the words send a thrill through your body. "Please, Elle," you beg. "I need you."

Elle gives you a look that makes your insides flutter. "Go," she says. "Get on the bed. On your knees. And wait for me."

You scurry to the bedroom, your heart racing with excitement. You crawl onto the bed, knees sinking into the soft mattress, and position yourself at the edge.

Elle's command echoes in your mind: "Wait for me." It's torture, but you obey, your hands resting on your thighs, resisting the urge to slide between your legs.

Elle walks into the bedroom, her shirt now gone, revealing a simple black bra that compliments her damp panties. Her nipples are hard points pushing against the fabric, and her skin glows from the heat of her arousal. She's a vision of desire, and you can't help but stare.

Her eyes lock onto yours, and she smirks, then crosses the room to the dresser. She opens the top drawer, and you hold your breath. Your eyes widen as she pulls out a magic wand vibrator, the sight of it making your clit throb.

Elle saunters over to the bed, dropping it onto the mattress before walking to the free-standing mirror in the corner of the room. She positions it so that it reflects the entirety of the bed, allowing you to see every inch of yourself as she takes you apart.

Her gaze meets yours in the reflection as she orders you off your knees and into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. The authority in her voice sends a shiver down your spine, and you do as you're told. She settles in behind you, her hands on your shoulders, guiding you lean against her.

Her legs tangle with yours, forcing them apart, exposing your dripping pussy to the cool air of the room. You lean back into her, feeling her warmth, her breath on your neck as she presses kisses below your ear. Her thighs are firm, keeping you open, vulnerable to whatever she has in store.

"Look," she whispers in your ear, her breath hot against your skin. "Look at how desperate you are." Her hand cups your mound, her thumb circling your clit lazily. Your eyes widen as you watch yourself in the reflection, your cheeks reddening.

Elle's fingers dip lower, teasing your wet folds. They slide through your slickness with ease, and you can't help but gasp at the sensation. She takes her time, exploring every inch of you with gentle strokes that make you squirm.

Her touch is light, maddening, as she traces your slit from bottom to top, never quite touching your clit, which is now swollen and begging for attention. You can feel her watching you in the mirror, her eyes taking in every twitch and quiver of your body.

Elle brings her wet fingers up your stomach, painting a path of your desire on your skin. You hold your breath as she reaches your chest, your heart pounding in anticipation. She circles one of your nipples, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. You arch into her touch, silently begging for more.

She picks up the magic wand vibrator from the bed. You watch in the mirror as she flicks it on to the lowest setting, the head buzzing gently. She brings it to your chest, and you jump at the sudden sensation. She smirks, then moves it down your torso, the vibrations leaving trail of tingles in it's wake.

Elle traces the toy around your navel, watching as your stomach muscles jump. She teases the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, moving closer and closer to your pussy, but never quite touching it. You can feel the tension building, the anticipation making your legs shake.

Her eyes watch carefully as she drags the vibrator up the insides of your thighs, each pass bringing it closer to where you need it most. You're panting now, your chest heaving with each shallow breath. She knows exactly what she's doing, and she's enjoying every second of it.

Elle finally holds the vibrator to your clit, and you jolt at the intense sensation. It's like lightning directly to your core, and you can't help the loud moan that escapes your lips. She presses it harder, holding you steady as your body tries to buck away from the pleasure.

You watch in the mirror as her hand works the vibrator, moving it in slow, deliberate strokes. Each pass sends a shiver through your body, your pussy clenching in response. She increases the speed, the buzzing growing louder. The vibrations travel through your entire being, setting your nerves alight.

And then she whispers "You're such a needy little slut, aren't you?". You nod, unable to form coherent words, your eyes locked on the mirror.

Her breath tickles your neck as she says, "You love it when I make you beg, don't you?" Each word dripping with lust.

You whimper, nodding, unable to form words as she continues her sweet torment. "You're such a greedy little thing," she taunts. "Always so eager for more, so desperate for my touch."

The moment your eyes slide shut, her other hand comes up to grip your cheeks harshly. "Keep your eyes open," she commands. "Or I'll stop touching you."

Your eyes fly open, and you let out a whine of protest, but you obey. In the mirror, you can see the smug look on her face, the glint of victory in her eyes. She knows she has you, that you're under her spell.

"That's what I thought," she states. "Now, let's see how much of a greedy slut you really are." She increases the speed of the vibrator, and you can't help but moan louder, your body trembling with the effort of holding still.

The vibrations are intense, and your pussy is so sensitive now, each stroke sending pleasure through your body. You're so close, so fucking close. You can feel it building, the tension coiling.

And then, with a whine, it hits you. Your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave, your body jerking and trembling from the force of it. Your eyes squeeze shut despite her command, but she doesn't stop. She keeps the vibrator pressing against your clit, making the sensation even more overwhelming.

"Eyes on the mirror," she orders, her voice firm. You force your eyes open, looking into the mirror. Your face is a mask of ecstasy, your mouth open in a silent scream. You can see your own eyes, glazed over with pleasure.

Elle cranks the vibrator up to its highest setting, and the buzzing turns into a high-pitched whine. You brace yourself for the intensity, but it's nothing compared to the pleasure that consumes you when she presses it back against your clit.

"Too much," you gasp out, your voice shaking. "Elle, it's too much." But even as you say the words, you arch into the sensation, your body begging for more. She doesn't ease up, instead, she uses her free hand to spread your folds, giving the vibrator better access.

Elle's voice is a dark chuckle in your ear. "Is it? Is it really, baby?" she mocks. "If you're going to act like a needy slut you're going to be treated like a needy slut." She emphasizes her point with a particularly hard press of the vibrator.

You can't argue with her. You can't even think straight. Your eyes are glued to the mirror, watching your pussy quiver with each pulse of the toy. It's mesmerizing, the way your body responds to her, the way you're spread open for her viewing pleasure.

All that comes out of your mouth are incoherent sounds of pleasure. Your cheeks are flushed, your eyes glazed with lust as you watch her manipulate your body. You're a moaning mess, unable to get an intelligible word out.

Elle's grip on the vibrator doesn't falter, stroking it up and down, hitting all the right spots. She's relentless, pushing you closer and closer to another peak. "Again," she whispers in your ear. "I want to see you come again."

Your body responds to her command, your pussy pulsing. You try to resist, but it's no use. The pleasure is too intense, too overwhelming. You feel your climax trigger, your muscles tightening, your breath coming in short gasps.

You feel a sharp smack on your clit. Your eyes fly open in shock and pain. In the mirror, you see Elle's hand come down again, slapping your pussy firmly. "I told you to keep your eyes open," she says, her voice stern. You hadn't even realized you closed your eyes.

The sting quickly turns to pleasure, and you bite your lip to keep from screaming. The vibrator is still pressed to your sensitive nub, the high setting making it feel like it's vibrating through your entire body. You can't help but push into it.

Elle's hand is steady, her eyes on the mirror, watching your every reaction. She's a master at reading your body, knowing exactly when you're about to break. You can feel the tension coiling again, tightening in your stomach. It's unbearable, the way she brings you to the brink and then pulls back, only to push you over again.

Then she bites down on the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. The pain is sharp, surprising, and you cry out, your body arching back into hers. It's a sensitive spot, one she knows drives you wild. The combination of pain and pleasure sends you spiralling, and you orgasm for the third time.

Your pussy clenches, your juices spilling onto the bed beneath you. The sheets are soaked, the fabric sticking to your skin. If you had the capacity for embarrassment, you'd be mortified, but right now all you can feel is the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

"Elle, I can't take anymore," you whine, your voice high and desperate. Your body is a live wire, each touch threatening to send you over the edge again. But she doesn't relent.

"You can, and you will," she whispers in your ear, the vibrations from the wand not missing a beat. The words resonate through your core, and you feel yourself submitting to her once more. You're hers to play with, to bring to climax as many times as she desires.

The next orgasm hits like a freight train, and with it come a series of smaller ones, like aftershocks. Each one more intense than the last, making your body convulse and quiver uncontrollably. You can't believe how sensitive you are, how much she's turned you into a quivering mess of pleasure.

Elle's voice is low and seductive in your ear, "One more, baby. Make it count." Her words echo in your mind as you struggle to hold on to reality. The vibrator is a constant, unyielding presence, bringing you closer and closer to the edge with every stroke.

Your eyes lock onto hers in the mirror, and you can see the challenge in them. You want to prove to her that you can take it, that you can handle whatever she gives you. The desire to please her is stronger than any discomfort.

With a final surge of willpower, you push back into the vibrator, riding the wave of pleasure as it crashes over you again. Your scream fills the room, a mix of pleasure and pain as you come for what is possibly the 7th time.

As your body goes limp, Elle finally pulls the vibrator away, leaving your clit throbbing and your legs shaking. You collapse against her, utterly exhausted. She wraps her arms around you, her chuckles vibrating against your back.

"Good little slut," she murmurs, her breath warm on your neck. The phantom buzz of the toy lingers, making your pussy twitch. You lean into her, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. She's so strong, so in control, and you can't help but feel completely owned by her.

Elle gently helps you up the bed, arranging the pillows so that you're propped up comfortably. Your limbs feel like jelly, but her touch is firm and sure, guiding you into place. You can't help but lean into her, craving the warmth and security she offers after that intense experience.

Her eyes soften as she looks at you, a hint of concern in her expression. "Are you okay?" she asks, her voice gentle. You nod, still trying to catch your breath, and she smiles before heading to grab supplies.

Elle returns with a warm, damp cloth, which she uses to gently wipe away the sweat and arousal from your thighs and pussy. She's careful not to cause any more stimulation, and her touch is soothing, almost maternal.

As she tends to you, you can't help but stare at her in awe. The way she moves with such confidence, the way she wields pleasure and pain so masterfully, it's intoxicating. You're struck by just how deeply you feel for her, how much you trust her to give you what you need.

When she's done cleaning you up, Elle leans in and presses a soft kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, before finally capturing your lips. It's a gentle kiss, filled with affection, leaving you humming with content.

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