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[willowfey]

what do u do on days u wake up feeling empty and the only things that stir smth up in ur brain and body are memories of times/places that are long gone…. like what am i supposed to do with that….. i don’t feel like a person today i just wanna wake up in my childhood bedroom and smell the way it smelled in winter but i can’t do that so i just go through my day feeling vaguely nauseously unsettled and untethered…. and that doesn’t feel fair but i don’t know what can be done about it

[blackpointgame]

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[suryamarbles]

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[sassypossumm]

Burn

You'd heard your husband was dead...you never thought you'd see that burning in his eye again...

[MDNI]

You picked up a pebble and closed your eyes. He’d died. You needed no man to tell you that, she’d known before Aegon could tell you. Running a thumb over the smooth surface, you looked down at the marbled pebble before tossing it into the waves.

“ñuha jorrāeliarzy.”

Freezing you closed your eyes and began to shake. You were losing your mind. It wasn’t possible.

"Y/N.”

“Look, I don’t know who you think you are but,” Shaking your head you spun to confront who or whatever was playing with your sanity.

“Aemond.”

Your heart stalled in your chest. Before you stood someone you’d thought you'd never see again. Aemond Targaryen, in the flesh.

“This isn’t possible.” You breathed, covering your mouth. Aemond stood before you, unmoving, but larger than life. And he looked wonderful. Dirty, but wonderful. Narrowing your eyes, you took a step forward. Was this a mirage?

“Y/N.”

Mirages didn’t speak. No. That was foolish. Who said mirages couldn’t speak? Apart from you willing them to, your feet had brought you to stand almost toe to toe with the mirage that seemed to know your name. And then. Then the mirage reached out a hand and grazed your cheek. Before it could pull back, you'd grasped its hand.

“Y/N.”

Narrowing your eyes you looked down at the large hand you were holding. Turing it over in your hand, you spread the fingers and traced your own over the planes of the hand. It was familiar. The same long capable fingers. Flipping the hand over, you lightly traced the faint outline of veins under skin. Then, closing your eyes yet again, you let your fingers rest on the inside of the wrist. The flutter of a pulse. This was no mirage.

“Aemond.” Gasping you dropped his hand and took a step back. Worry etched his face as he reached out a hand to steady you. “You’re alive.” You breathed, grasping onto his arm like a life line.

“Y/N,” He bit back a hiss when your fingernails bit into his skin. Reaching out shaky fingers, you traced over his brow. Closing his eye, Aemond clenched his jaw and groaned. Taking a step that brought you into his intimate personal space, you pulled back your fingers and just… looked at him. The same familiar silvery hair snapping in the wind, standing in stark contrast to the soft lilac of his eye. You narrowed your own. Something was different.

“Aemond.” You croaked, reaching his hairline and letting your fingers sift through the soft strands. Leaning closer you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Even his scent was the same. A heady combination of masculinity and… just the hint of something that always escaped you. An infuriating combination that was inextricable from the man it emanated from.

“ñuha jorrāeliarzy.” Aemond trapped your chin gently between his fingers and tipped your head back to look at him. His heart broke at the telltale tremble of your jaw. With a sigh, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. You dug your fingers into the material of his shirt and began shaking violently. Dipping his head, Aemond let his nose drift over the side of your face, pausing to leave a reverent kiss to your pounding pulse point. You released your grip on his shirt and stared at the wrinkles you’d left. Aemond pulled back and held up a hand. “I’m here.” He lowered his voice to barely be audible over the crashing of the waves against the sand.

The sound of a seagull over head caught your attention and you quickly looked up to see the bird in the distance. Aemond took a step closer and came toe to toe with you. Turning back to look at him, you couldn’t help the flash of anger you felt coursing through your veins. Letting your eyes flit to his still raised hand, you couldn’t help yourself. Narrowing your eyes, you glared at him and reached for his hand. Lowering your head, you sank your teeth into his forearm. A chuckle fell from your lips at the jolt you felt go through his body. Raising your eyes, your breath caught at his hooded gaze.

“Saucy wench.” Aemond growled, pulling you against his chest. You leaned up and wrapped your arms around his neck giving him a mischievous smile. Neither of you were yet willing to admit defeat, and so stood there in the growing darkness just staring at each other. The labor of breathing through the thick tension was growing more difficult.

“Darl-” You cut him off by diving forward and latching your mouth onto his pulse point. Aemond closed his eye and grunted as you bit and sucked your way down his neck. If you had your way, when he walked away there would be no doubt of who he belonged to. He dug a hand into your hair and let his fingers dig into the tender skin of your scalp.

You ran your nose softly over a particular spot behind his ear before he roughly pulled your head back to reconnect your lips. You gasped when his hands trailed down your body to grip your hips. Jerking back, you looked into his now darkened eye and swallowed.

“Aemond,” It was his turn to cut you off by slipping his tongue into your mouth. Your eyes fluttered shut and you wrapped your arms around his neck, and moaned softly as his tongue gently caressed your own. When breathing became impossible, you pulled back to take a ragged breath and dropped your forehead to his shoulder. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, tasting the salt that lingered from mist coming off the waves.

You seemed to realize where you were, and he sensed you were pulling away from the moment as your head whipped around to see if there were any passersby. When you tried to pull away, Aemond tightened his grip on your hips and dipped his head to nip playfully at the shell of your ear. “Aemond.” You hissed, fighting his grip.

“Hm?” He dipped further to tug at the skin under your ear with his teeth.

“Hey!” You hissed in pain.

“Sorry.” He mumbled, running his tongue apologetically over the tender spot.

“Someone might pass by” You protested weakly in his ear, pulling him closer, slipping your hand back into his hair, working the strands through your fingers. Aemond shifted slightly to scan the empty beach before looking up at you with a smirk.

Tightening his grip on your waist with one hand, he spanned your neck with his other and tilted your head back. He had to smile at how easily you bent to his touch. Dipping his head, Aemond pressed a kiss to your neck, reveling in the tremor that ran through you. Slowly he pressed open mouthed kisses down your neck before dragging his nose back over the trail and stopping to suck roughly at your pulse point.

“Aemond.” You whined, running a hand through his hair, your fingers catching on the ends. He pulled back enough to bump his nose against yours.

“Yes?” He gave you an innocent smile. With another whine, you tried to shift your mouth closer to his, only for him to pull back. “Needy are we, my love?” Aemond flashed you a wicked grin. Your head snapped back and you pulled free of him. Turning away from him you huffed and wrapped your arms around yourself.

“I don’t want to need you.” He flinched at the ice in your voice. Spinning, you looked at him with narrowed eyes and took a step closer again. “I don’t need you.” You hissed, hauling back and slapping him. Aemond merely closed his eye and took a deep breath.

“I probably deserved that.” He said lowly, opening his eye to see you staring at your hand in horror. Looking from your hand back to his face, you released an unnatural sound and covered your mouth. Wrapping your arms around your middle again, you took a step back from him and turned back towards the ocean.

“No.” If he hadn’t been standing so close, Aemond might not have caught the word. Taking a wide step, this time it was he who brought himself into your personal space. Resting gentle hands on your shoulders, he turned you back towards him. When you wouldn’t meet his eye, he settled for untangling your arms and wrapping them around his waist, pulling you close. You sagged against his chest and tightened your arms around him. He smiled to himself and rested his chin on the top of your head.

“Darling,” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your hair. You broke and sobbed into his shirt. Aemond pressed you further into his chest and wrapped his arms tighter around you. You shifted a hand between you and pressed it to his thumping heart. He was alive, and he was here.

Tightening a hand into the material over his heart, you pulled back and looked into his eye again. The lilac had gone from heated to soft again, but the telltale signs of desire still stirred within that lilac, and that fact alone caused you to shiver in anticipation. Pulling your hand away you reached again for his hair and pulled him closer more gently this time. You wanted to light the match, and you wanted to be up close to watch the violet burn.

I’m sorry.” You grazed the cheek you'd slapped with your thumb and stood on tip toe to press a feather light kiss over the offended area. Closing his eye, Aemond groaned.

“I’m sorry.” He rasped, nuzzling his nose against yours. You gasped and drew back. That was new. Aemond reached for your hand and wove his fingers between yours, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand, not breaking eye contact. Any sense of time or space quickly flew out of your head as you roughly jerked Aemond's mouth back towards yours. Pausing to search his eye, you pulled back slightly, only for him to shift his head to the side and connect your lips. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you shifted your hand from his hair to his cheek and gently rubbed his jaw.

You moaned when he tugged you closer, and gently parted your lips with his own. Your head spun and Aemond greedily swallowed the whimpers and moans that escaped you. He growled when you pushed against his chest. Tearing your mouth from his, you fought to focus on his face. He stared down at you in frustration and confusion. Not wanting the lovely fog surrounding your mind to dissipate, you quickly searched his eye and smiled in satisfaction.

White hot desire.

His cool fingers slowly began gliding up your thigh under the heavy fabric of your dress.

"Aemond..." You gasped as his hand came to cup your heat though your small clothes.

"Yes, ñuha jorrāeliarzy?" He mumbled, grazing his teeth along your collar bone as he began deftly unlacing your dress with his free hand.

"Dragon Stone this may be, but there are still passers-by...what if they should see us?"

"Then it would be their most glorious privilege to see me ravish my goddess wife on this forsaken beach." He growled, sucking harshly at your throat.

There may have been passers-by that heard your delighted moans and Aemond's passionate grunts as he took you over and over again on the sands of Dragon Stone that day, but you wouldn't have cared.

You had him, and you'd never burn silently again.

@feyhunter78

[undiscovered-horizon]

In Emerald Hearts, Emerald Minds - Nikolai Lantsov x Reader

[mentions of unwanted advances + suggested groping + suggestive/sexual (consensual) themes]

☽ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ☾

SUMMARY: When Vasily asks you to forget his half-brother and marry him instead, you escape the Little Palace along Alina. Nikolai realizes something strange is going on when Kaz mentions seeing a similar emerald ring on the woman that came with the Sun Summoner. With how much you and Nikolai have been running in circles to find each other, the reunion aboard Volkvolny feels almost fated.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 4.6k

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist&lt;<

It feels like the Winter Fete has been going on forever. The champagne keeps on being poured, the guests keep on dancing and the circus acts just keep on performing as though tomorrow is a mere mirage, a concept of a certain time period that never actually comes. Inside those walls of gold and marble, the misery devouring all of Ravka seems like nothing beyond a mad nightmare - something so removed from reality, it’s hilarious in its ridiculousness. Everyone is so carefree and happy you almost take their joy as your own.

Almost.

The orchestra begins playing Waltz of the Flowers and you feel your throat tighten. Despite doing your best not to, your mind relives that fateful night when everything changed. For the longest time, you’d been claiming that the change was for the better but now, standing alone for another year in a row and watching the dashing aristocrats spin to the music, you’re not so sure anymore.

“You really need to stop doing this,” Nikolai says firmly. Although his tone is decisive and clearly unwilling to accept defiance, a pronounced hint of amusement lives between his words - a thread of light-heartedness, one might say.

Your eyebrows gently furrow. “Doing what?”

“Smiling at me like that. Any longer and I might ask you to marry me.”

It feels like you’re about to burst at the seams. Trying to contain your emotions, and failing at it quite horribly, you bite your lower lip. “I might say yes.”

“Where have you gone, Kolya?” you whisper under your breath. The gloss of vacancy covering your eyes blurs the dancing bodies into one mass of faceless strangers. But it also makes you not notice someone approaching you.

“I find it quite admirable.”

Vasily’s voice startles you. To your now-gone relief, you didn’t have the displeasure of running into him all evening - until now. If you were to list all of the things about the older Lantsov son that makes your skin crawl, you’d be done by the time another Winter Fete is organized. The top of the list, however, deserves to be mentioned as it’s an inseparable part of your every interaction with the prince: he’s quite adamant and crude in his desire to be more than just a future brother-in-law to you.

“Excuse me?” you stutter out.

That patronizing look on his face is now accompanied by a cocky half-grin as he realizes he caught you off-guard. “Your devotion to my brother. For all we know, he might be already dead, Saints’ protect him.”

“Don’t even say that!” you hiss at him. Right after, you look around to check whether one of the guests has noticed your unpleasant exchange.

Despite what you’ve just said, you know he’s right. There’s no way you can be sure that your Kolya is either dead or alive. Perhaps this is the detail further ripping your heart apart - you don’t know anything about his fate; you’re mourning, although you’re yet to see the coffin. You haven’t for a few years now and each passing month of silence only made court gossip more cruel and bold.

“All I’m saying, dearest,” Vasily begins quietly as his hand drags along your arm, “is that the moment the news of Nikolai’s death reaches the Grand Palace, you’ll be thrown out. On the other hand, I can make you the Queen of Ravka. And unlike my brother, I won’t disappear off the face of the Earth and forget about his beloved lady.”

The word of endearment is dripping with sarcasm as it leaves his chapped lips. His breath reeks of alcohol and you unknowingly turn your head away. Vasily seems to think you’re about to leave his side, so his hand tightly grips your arm. The hold is almost bruising. He yanks you even closer towards himself.

“Kolya hasn’t forgotten about me,” you say in a shaky voice. Maybe he’s not as foolish as he appears and Vasily is genuinely trying to break you down.

The prince studies your face for a moment, definitely noticing how shaken you are. His eyes have the strangest glint to them - something between desire and contempt. “Is that so?” he barely stifles a grim laugh. “He would have written you a letter if that were true, no?”

Tears sting your eyes. Vasily is certainly smarter, or at least more cruel, than he lets on. He knows exactly what to say to get into your head. It’s a startling difference between him and Nikolai - only one of them does what he can to keep a smile on your face. Well, did.

His dirty, rough hand grabs your chin. Vasily forces you to look at him, his smile wavers upon noticing your desperation. “Consider your options, зайка,” he purrs out. The prince’s other hand trails your face. “The choice is yours.”

A tear falls down your cheek. You feel it rolling across your skin and you silently hope the guests surrounding you are watching this scene. Then, you lean in even closer to Vasily’s face. The whisper leaves your lips like a viper’s venomous hiss: "I will marry you the day you lay his dead body at my feet."

To your surprise, Vasily drops his hands and takes a step back. Despite the self-assured smile on his face, you can see the fury inside his eyes. “As you wish.” He bows curtly, turns on his heel and marches away, undoubtedly looking for another glass of alcohol and a lady naive enough to warm his bed.

The palace suddenly feels stuffy and overcrowded; the music is too loud, the plethora of smells make your head spin.

Outside. You need to get outside.

Bumping into several guests and mumbling half-coherent apologies, you run through the halls of the Little Palace. When the cold, night air hits your flushed cheeks, only then do you stop. Taking in a deep breath, you can actually feel your thoughts becoming clearer. 

With each gust of freezing wind, all the anger and sadness is leaving your shaking body. Vasily just wanted to get a rise out of you and, as much as you don’t want to admit it, he succeeded. Unlike he claims, Nikolai surely is alive. Maybe bruised or sick or not sleeping well but as long as there’s no news about him being dead, he is as alive as one can be. The same starry sky hangs above your and his heads. Perhaps, in this small moment of longing, he’s thinking about you too. Wherever he is.

A tired sigh leaves your lips. You’re about to turn around and go back inside when a silhouette moving in the night catches your attention. The shape is swift although careful like a lizard approaching a fly. You see them looking around before running for another few meters only to hide behind a bush or piece of architecture.

Curious and a little scared, you follow the stranger towards one of the carriages. Quietly, you get close enough to grab their wrist. The shape lets out a gasp and turns around to look at you.

“Alina?!” you whisper. What in Saints’ mercy is she doing? You look at her warm, casual clothes and the bag on her back. “Are you running away?”

“I need to leave,” she answers equally quietly. Her voice as well as her stare is filled with certainty - she’s convinced beyond reasonable doubt this is the right thing to do. “Please, don’t try to stop me.”

You let go of her hand. “Stop you?” A dry chuckle leaves your lips. “I’m coming with you.”

“What?” she deadpans. Alina is staring at you with a vacant stare and her mouth slightly agape. Apparently exchanging royal comforts for hay and stolen apples is unthinkable.

“If I have to spend one more day around Vasily, I will murder someone.”

Alina slowly nods her head - she can definitely understand the sentiment. A dimwitted Fjerdan would have more charm than the older prince. But then she squints her eyes, looking at you with a sense of scepticism.

“Out there, there won’t be warm beds and three-course dinners, you know?”

“I know,” you answer with a careless shrug. Loitering and wandering isn’t for ladies of your sort, it’s like throwing a finless fish into a tank with sharks. Despite that, you’re quite convinced the means justify the end, at least in this scenario. “But out there is my Kolya. And I’m done politely waiting for him.”

A shadow of sadness covers her face. If there’s anyone who can understand your plight, it’s her. In fact, she is luckier than you - she saw her lover maybe an hour ago. Pleasant or unpleasant, the meeting confirmed to her that Mal is at least alive. It’s not a privilege you could afford.

“Then let’s go,” she says to you before opening the chest in the back of the carriage. Forgetting all of your etiquette and social standing, you climb into the compartment with her. Towards adventure or death, you’re going somewhere.

“The ring gave you away,” Kaz announces. “It’s too expensive for a bodyguard.”

Jesper knits his eyebrows together, suddenly remembering something. He leans towards Kaz but speaks a little too loudly for the question to be inconspicuous: “Didn’t that girl wear the same-”

When Kaz’s cold glare meets Jesper’s squinted eyes, the dark-skinned man immediately closes his mouth halfway through the question. Both of them sit back as they were but the cat is already out of the bag. Well, not entirely - half of it is peeking out of the metaphorical sack.

Nikolai looks between them with unmissable suspicion. Although he’s heard enough to be aware of the possibility that the Sun Summoner isn’t travelling by herself, this is the first time either of the Crows admits it.

His heart begins to beat slightly quicker: Alina run away from the Little Palace along with another woman and that lady was wearing a royal jewel at the time. As long as Vasily didn’t lose his signet on one of his distasteful escapades, the course of events points to only one person - you. Shoving his restless excitement into the deepest chasms of his heart, Nikolai manages to remain his composure:

“Who was wearing that ring?” The prince-turned-privateer unknowingly fiddles with the heavy jewellery on his finger. Noticing the Crows’ reluctance, he makes them an offer: “If you tell me who you saw wearing an emerald ring, I might, say, give you ten minutes to escape.” Nikolai vaguely gestures to the closed window on his right-hand side.

Kaz knows there’s no point in lying any longer. The man in front of him is not only well-informed but also smarter than he looks, making the Crow wonder whether he also knows the answer to this question but prefers to play some kind of a game. In any event, he’s done his part of the deal and his ex-accomplices are left to their own devices. Additionally, he could really use those ten minutes. “A young woman that accompanied Alina Starkov. High-born, confident, decisive. Not a Grisha as far as I know.”

“Not a Lantsov, obviously,” Jesper chips in.

Brekker’s keen eyes catch the barely noticeable change in Sturmhond’s expression - the corner of his mouth merely stuttered up and down but it is enough to tell Kaz as much as he needs:

“You know her.”

Know her? If Nikolai had a weaker grip on his emotions at the moment, he’d laugh until his stomach and diaphragm hurt and then he’ll burst with laughter once more, unspeakably joyous that he might get to see her sooner than he thought. Yes, he does know her but in the way heart knows blood and lungs know air. She’s the ligament that keeps his bones together, the fibres that construct his muscles, the very blood that runs in his veins. Does the Moon simply know the stars? Do trees know their roots and branches?

But for now, he needs to stay focused. 

“Not really,” Sturmhond answers while scrunching his nose. “Many aristocrats wear a ring like that. While I may know of a lot of them, I hardly know anything about them.”

Kaz fights back a mocking half-grin begging to twist his thin lips. “I’d argue that an emerald in Ravka is a rather rare gem.”

“Hers is probably genuine. Mine’s stolen.”

Silence falls between the three men. Nikolai and Kaz are staring each other down, battling in some kind of war of wits and nerves, waiting for the other to give in. Jesper is stealing glances at both of them, feeling the cold tension rise in the air.

Against his deep-seated desire, Kaz doesn’t inquire further about the emeralds or the strange coincidence that the two enigmatic characters wearing them might know each other. He sits back in the chair, his shoulders visibly drop. As much as he’d love to dig deeper, he’d much rather get out of here and reclaim his freedom that is now endangered.

“Well, gentlemen,” Nikolai begins in an upbeat tone, “your ten minutes start now.”

Without saying anything else, he leaves the room. Only then, when the dark, wooden door close behind him, does he let suppressed emotions wash over him. A quiet chuckle brushes past his lips and for a moment even tears sting his eyes. Delight, worry, relief - conflicting sensations merge into one, completely overpowering flame burning inside his chest.

Maybe he doesn’t have the Sun Summoner and he still needs to come up with a plan to catch her but Nikolai hasn’t been this happy for a while now: his солиышко is alright, still making the world brighter and warmer. If he can get to Alina Starkov, he might see her again, although he begins to wonder whether she wishes to see him after all those years of silence and ignorance. But if he can see her, just witness the marvel of her entire being even for one last second, he’ll be cured of the longing and loneliness that has been gnawing at him ever since he left Os Alta.

You’re following the Shu man to what you assume is his captain’s cuddy. The ship creeks and groans under the weight of the crew as well as the power of the waves. The bussing crewmen spare the three of you a glance, only to show disinterest and go back to their duties. It’s a nice change compared to the kerchen ship you travelled on to Novyi Zem, where the captain asked Alina and you to stay under the deck because of the sailors’ superstition. After getting off the ship, it took you a good week to wash out the reek of cured cod from your clothes and hair. Sometimes you still felt like you can smell it in the air, even in the dusty wind sweeping through Novyi Zem.

Your ‘guide’ pushes the door and they swing open with a creak, the list of the ship aiding the motion. Except for the squeaky hinges, probably rusting faster than anyone can manage, Volkvolny is in good shape. In fact, it looks brand new - no mould or woodworms.

“Captain, request for charter,” the stocky stranger announces with a hint of amusement or excitement in his voice. Despite his imposing visage, the Shu man has made a good impression on you but the long sword on his back kept you vigilant against getting too comfortable in his company.

Only when he moves to the side, presenting the three of you to his captain, do you see the face of the infamous Sturmhond.

You want to laugh. In fact, you have to clench your fists to stop yourself from bursting out with laughter. This situation feels like the strangest coincidence that you can think of, which in turn makes you suspect that it’s not a coincidence at all. Because what are the odds?

Nikolai’s face momentarily brightens up when he recognizes you, a new glint lights up his eyes. He looks different than you remember but in all the right ways: his shoulders look broader and his hair is longer, curling in a way that makes him appear more infantile. You remembered him as a handsome man but the Nikolai in front of you is beautiful enough to be considered unreal.

He's staring into you like a deer caught in headlights until Tolya hands him Alina’s unusual means of payment. As Nikolai is turning the piece of jewellery in his fingers, you notice another change: his hands look rougher, definitely scarred from all the adventures you hope you’re yet to hear about.

The blond prince turns his attention back to Alina, Mal and you. “A gold hairpin can get you anywhere. But an emerald ring?” He gestures to you. “It can get you everywhere.”

“It’s not for sale,” you answer, although you know he’s not trying to buy it. After all, he’s the one that gave it to you.

“I don’t want it.” Nikolai shakes his head. Then, a flirty smile appears on his face. “Looks better on you anyway, doll.”

You’re about to respond to his remark when his attention is once again placed on Alina. “Now, Tolya says you’re looking for a charter. Where are we sailing?”

Alina begins the story with ‘the creation of the world’ as your mother used to say: the Little Palace, Darkling, Morozova’s amplifiers and the Fold. Nikolai nods along, never giving away that he’s privy to most of the story. He doesn’t believe in the Sea Whip at first but that’s hardly his fault - not too long ago people wouldn’t believe in the existence of the Sun Summoner and now she’s standing beside you, nervously rubbing her hand. As you have expected from the moment you saw that Nikolai is Sturmhond, he agrees to the insanity of taking up the quest to catch the amplifier.

“Tolya will show you around.” He sends you off. You’re about to follow your friends out of the cuddy when he adds: “You, emerald lady, I’d like to talk to in private.”

Alina gives you a concerned look (‘blink twice if you need help’)  but you only smile and nod at her in response. With Mal tugging at her arm, she reluctantly leaves you and Sturmhond alone.

The moment the door closes behind Tolya and your friends, Nikolai runs around his desk towards you, engulfing you in a bone-crushing hug. His hand threads through your hair, pushing your head further into the crook of his neck. Even if you tried, there’s no way you can pull away or even move. Taking a deep breath, you smell the familiar fragrance of his cologne but now it’s mixed with the scent of resin, saltwater and seaweed.

Then he pulls away, looking you up and down with burning worry. “Are you alright? Are you hurt? What are you doing here?”

You swear he could be bleeding out on the floor and still he’d be apologizing for staining your clothes. It’s heartwarming that despite the years and evident change in his appearance, Kolya is still Kolya.

A wide smile enters your face. “Looking for a frisky sailor to take me on a voyage filled with indecency, obviously.”

“Well, here he is.” Nikolai points to himself and winks at you. “And he’d really like to know why you’re in Novyi Zem with the Sun Summoner and whats-his-face and not in the Grand Palace in Os Alta.”

You let out a heavy sigh and shake your head gently. “I grew tired, Kolya.” His eyebrows slant upon hearing the exhaustion in your voice. Despite the sheer happiness he feels when you say his name, the concern gnawing at his heart seems to be more powerful. “Years have gone by without you giving me even the tiniest sign that you’re alive and well. And your brother, Saint’s have mercy on him because I won’t, has been adamant about marrying me ever since you left. I told him I will accept his proposal the day he lays your dead body before me.” You make pause, noticing a strange shadow hanging over Nikolai’s face. But he’s not saying anything for a moment, so you finish what you wanted to say: “I had to get away from it all. There’s only so much uncertainty and intruding fingers a lady can take.”

“By the Saints,” he breathes out, “did Vasily lay a hand on you?”

You feel his grip around you tighten but it’s not painful, rather securing. “If you’re asking whether he hit me or forced himself on me, then no, he did not. He did, however, make it abundantly clear what he wants from me. On multiple occasions.”

Nikolai’s face twists in a scowl. The glint that lit up his eyes when he saw you is now gone, exchanged for something dark and unstable. “I’m so sorry, if I knew-”

“I know, love,” you interrupt him. He doesn’t need to announce the ends he’d go to in order to ensure you’re safe and comfortable. Nikolai has never said or done so but you’re fairly convinced he wouldn’t shy away from fistfighting Vasily if he said something less-than-savoury to you. “But neither of us could have known.”

“I promised you’d be safe in Os Alta.”

“And I promised to stay put.” You can’t keep laughter in any longer. You’re not quite sure whether your chuckle is born out of happiness or disbelief. “Now look at us.”

Suddenly, he knits his eyebrows close. At first, you think he’s confused but then the slight rise of his cheeks suggests something closer to contempt or disgust. "Would you actually marry Vasily if he gave you my dead body?"

You can only give him an indifferent shrug. "Maybe?” you ponder aloud. “If you were dead, I would lose all care about what happens to me or with me. In a way, I’d be dead too."

Nikolai takes one of your hands and kisses its fingers. Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel his warm lips against your skin. “I could never rest in peace knowing how he’s treating you.”

“Having you haunt me would be incomparably better than you just being gone. Everything is better than silence.”

His shoulders slouch. Nikolai looks away from you for a moment, admiring the floor in his cuddy but even this can’t hide his guilt and shame. “I couldn’t have just popped in for a visit. Not anywhere in Ravka.”

"You couldn't even have written me a letter?"

"Someone at the palace would recognize my handwriting. I couldn't risk it."

"Then you could have dictated the letter to one of your crew."

That self-assured, flirty smirk appears again on his face. "And scandalize my crewmen with the things I want to tell you?”

As much as you’ve dearly missed his insufferable humour, at the moment it’s making your skin crawl. “This is a serious conversation, Nikolai,” you state firmly.

“I am serious, солиышко.” The pet name rolls off his tongue with both weight and lightness as though it belongs exclusively to you and no one else can ever claim it as their own. He kisses your hand again but keeps it against his lips for a while longer. Then, he places your fingers on his chest and you can feel the soft thrumming of his heart. “Do you think I never thought about writing to you? That I didn’t stay up at night thinking about what I will tell you when we meet again? Countless letters I have begun only to tear them apart and throw them into the sea or burn them. If some people found out we know each other, you’d be in much greater danger than Darkling following your steps. I’d rather deal with the heartbreak of staying away from you than know I put you in danger because I can’t live without you.”

It brings you a grim sense of comfort that he’s been equally torn as you were over the lack of contact. You never thought about it before but Nikolai must have been worried sick, not knowing whether you’re alright and happy. Has he imagined your plight and misery as often as you did his?

“What did you write in those letters?” you ask in a shaky voice.

“I wrote about how much I miss you, how it physically hurts to consider that you might think I have abandoned you. When I was hungry, cold, tired or sick, only the memories of you made me push on. On nights when I couldn’t sleep, I’d stare at the sky above me and wonder whether you’re looking at the same stars. I wrote that wherever I go, I see your face. You are in every sunrise and sunset, every flower I see and every fire that warms me.” Nikolai lets go of your fingers, placing both of his hands on either side of your face. The softness in his eyes makes you swoon. “I only wrote the truth,” he says slowly, making sure you understand the weight of his words.

Swallowing back tears, you lean into his warm touch. “My beloved, my heart yearns for you?” you jest in a dramatic voice.

A playful smile creeps back unto his lips. “If only my heart.”

“Gross.”

“You wanted a frisky sailor.”

"You’re a pirate, not a sailor.”

"I’m a privateer,” he drones out the word as though it makes a world of a difference.

"Pirate sounds sexier."

Nikolai gives you a fake frown. “Oh, I definitely am a pirate."

Without thinking twice, he’s kissing you. The sensation is just as comforting as you remember. His soft lips are doting on you, growing needier with each peck as though this is some feverish attempt at making up the lost time. 

He pulls away to catch his breath and although you’re panting yourself, you unknowingly chase after him, unwilling to dismiss this carnal desire just yet. Nikolai seems to notice your eagerness - he flashes you a cocky grin and shortly pecks your lips again.

“You crossed Ravka, the Fold and the sea just to find me?” he whispers. His eyes are stuck to your wet, swollen mouth.

“And I’d do it a hundred more times if I had to.”

You exchange a few more hungry kisses, pecking and nipping at each other’s lips, before Nikolai continues the conversation:

“I want to say that I’m flattered but I’d rather not encourage you to do something this stupid and dangerous ever again.”

“Hate to break it to you but you took all the stupid with you.”

He rests his forehead against yours; hot, laboured breaths brush against your flushed cheeks. “I’d like to clarify that I’m not stupid, I just can’t seem to think about anything other than you.”

Nikolai wraps his arms around your waist. In a swift motion, he turns you around and pushes you against the edge of his desk. His strength surprises you when Nikolai effortlessly lifts you and places you atop the table, pushing off maps and navigation essentials. Firm, warm hands are restlessly wandering across your body, unsure where to lay or what to grab.

You gasp quietly when his fingers sneak underneath your shirt. “Is this the indecent part of the voyage, my frisky sailor?”

“By the Saints, I hope so,” he whispers against your lips. Then, he furrows his eyebrows questioningly. “Is that offensive to say around a living Saint?”

“I don’t think Alina heard you.”

His nimble fingers are quickly undoing the buttons on your clothes. “Well, she will hear you in a moment.”

“Gross,” you say with laughter in your voice but the word gets muffled as Nikolai gets back to kissing you again.

Even if the crew did hear you that day, no one dared say a word.

зайка [zay-ka] - bunny (feminine; term of endearment)

солиышко [sol-nee-shko] - little sun (unisex; term of endearment)

[sergeantwoods]

inhale, exhale. inhale, exhale. inhale, exhale. inhale, exhale. in--

the thump of the helo hitting the ground lifted ghost from his thoughts, and he sighed. exhale.

roach and gaz slowly broke apart from their huddling, probably talking about some dumb shit. ghost huffed, turning away from the two.

see, soap was dead. he has been for a while. a while is 8 months. but that's still a while in his books. because he could never let johnny's death go. never.

roach was soaps replacement. but he could never amount to johnny. so as much as he tried, he wouldn't get half of ghost's respect. roach wasn't bad, don't get him wrong. the kid was good at his job, smart, funny. but if he thought he could replace soap, then he was sorely mistaken. nobody can replace soap.

ghost doesn't understand how gaz and price moved on so quickly. their mourning only lasted about, what, a month? two? even so, it was too fast. like they dumped the idea of the bright-eyed sergeant away too quickly. it cut at simon's heart.

a pat on his shoulder had him roused from his thoughts, and he met eyes with price. price nodded at him, and he dipped his head back. swallowing shallowly, he stood up, following behind the captain.

once they reached the snowy ground, price waved nik off, and nik grinned and winked before launching in the air again and leaving. now, it was just the four of them, plus the two rookies that had been assigned this mission.

"alright," price started, coughing. his eyes narrowed, and he gestured at the facility that was barely visible from their view. "we're just going in to grab intel. they have guards, yes, but they are easy to bypass. it's easy. don't make it harder than it has to be." at the collective 'yes sirs!' he recieved, he nodded.

"sergeant valkyrie, lieutenant mirage, go on overwatch. me and the others are going into building A. keep watch for us. don't mess up; this is important." when the sergeant and the lieutenant nodded, he turned to the direction of the building.

"alright. when we get there, i'll tell overwatch where to set up, then we'll go and get that intel. shouldn't take too long." clapping his hands, he continued. "let's get going."

they trudged at least a few miles towards the compound, dropping of overwatch on the way. when they reached the cliff that dropped down to reveal the building, price split them into smaller groups.

it took them a few minutes to get down, grunts of effort being heard through comms. the awkward shuffling from the rookie's side of the comms were picked up, agitating ghost's ears. he was tempted to turn it off, but he decided against it. it would stop later, anyway. they'd get busy and focus.

gritting his teeth, he took out his assault rifle. price gave them a few more directions, before they took off for their missions.

it starts off slow. yeah, it started off slow. but now, here they were, huddled under some block of cement, to hide from the rain of bullets coming their way. price curses under his breath from ghost's side, reloading his gun hurriedly before peeking out from the side of the block and shooting.

ghost looked out from the side as well, shooting enemies one by one with deadly accuracy.

"overwatch, how many more are there?" price hisses, reloading his gun again.

"they just keep coming, sir," valkyrie says, growling under his breath as he snipes some soldier in the swarm of konni's coming after them.

"fuuuck, there wasn't supposed to be this many!"

ghost couldn't help the snort that left him. price side eyes him, then roughly grabs his shoulder.

"we're moving, lieutenant, come on."

nodding, he covered the captain as the sprinted into the building next to them. once they entered, it became eerily silent, save for their shoes squeaking against the sterile marbled floor. it looked like a part of an airport, almost, minus all the obviously military things lying around.

even when price lowered his gun, ghost kept his up. they couldn't afford to be caught off guard.

"simon. there isn't anyone in here."

flicking his eyes to price, he slowly lowers the gun. if price told him to lower the gun only for them to get --

he lets out a surprised sound as something -- no, someone -- tackles him to the ground. his head hits the ground first, and the all-too-familiar feeling of the barrel of a gun being pressed to the back of neck is present before he hears price letting out a shout and barreling towards the figure on top of him to the ground.

ghost groans, head spinning. he hears the sounds of price and the russian tussling besides him, but he can't seem to care over the pain in his head.

it takes a few seconds to finally come too, but when he does, he realizes that price is being attacked. and suddenly his senses are in overdrive, and he sweeps the attacker of their feet and onto the ground. their gun goes flying, and they land on their back with a pained grunt. he goes to stand over them. and now he gets to see their face.

his heart drops.

a familiar face. it isn't supposed to be familiar -- the eyes. it's fucking green, not blue. and the muzzle. and the fluffed out, ruffled mohawk. it isn't johnny. but it is? johnny wouldn't betray them. and he wouldn't do... whatever this is. wouldn't agree to it.

soap snarls from his position on the floor, eyes narrowed and staring apoplectically up at ghost. his breaths were coming out in short, angry puffs, the sound strange from the muzzle.

"johnny?"

nothing in his face changes. no pause, no hesitation, no sadness, no recognition. ghost face screws up under the mask in concern. what the hell happened to him?

price shakily gets up beside him, staring down at soap. his face was white as a sheet, and he whispers out a hoarse, "soap?"

soap grips ghosts ankles, writhing on the floor, trying to flip him over. he doesn't move, stuck gawking at soap.

"what did they do to you?" he murmurs out; half to himself and half to soap.

the only response he gets is a strangled "fuck you," from the man himself, still trying to flip ghost over.

price crouches on the ground, a pained expression on his face. he looks back up at ghost, eyes tired.

"what the hell should we do with him?"

"don't think he knows who we are. i said his name, no sign of recognition. doesn't look like he's willing to communicate, either. and you're the captain. you decide."

price sighs, rubbing his forehead as he thinks.

"well, either we just leave him here, cuff him to a bar." he pauses, seeing ghosts brow furrow.

"bu-- "

"and i know that's not an option anyone would like," he cuts ghost off, then continues with an exhale. "or we could sedate him and bring him back with us, and ask questions when we get back. or we could cuff him and bring him back. which one is safer?"

"unless you want to have a sparring match on the helo, i don't recommend cuffs. sedate seems safer, the only good option. i think gaz would try and murder us if we left soap here, too. you got a tranquilizer?"

price nodded. "yeah. can you hold him?"

"of course."

already crouching, price moved closer to soap, taking out a kit with the needle in it. the now green-eyed man's eyes widened, and he jerked away from price. ghost crouches down too, holding soap down. using one hand, he gently combs his fingers through his mohawk.

soaps eyes snap to ghosts; confusion lacing the sickly green. but he's staring up ghost, confusion turning into... fascination? interest? and he's certainly not paying attention when price winces and gets closer. he sticks the needle in the side of his neck when he gets close enough, and ghost grip on soap immediately tightens.

johnny immediately lurches away, crying out in surprise, and thrashing around. it only takes a few moments for the movements to become sluggish, and before they know it, soap is completely asleep.

it's quiet in the building. except for the loud breathing from soaps muzzle.

prices hand reaches to his comms. he clicks it on, voice low and gravelly as he speaks into it.

"well. gaz, guess who we found?"

HEEEEEEEELP THAT WAS SO LAZY IM SOBBING 😭

i swear i can write better thn that -- that was like. only 50% energy. i rushed this in an hour. yes, an hour. that's not really rushing, but i got very distracted a couple times.

well, heres my serving of brainwashed soap for the night. don't expect anything from me for like. another month or two .😭i mean, the medieval fic is gonna kick off sometime, so expect that

i very quickly proofread this, so if there was typos jus,,. ignore that please 🙏

here u go, @spottlessspectre

[scribeofnight]

⸝⸝ ꒰ 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔. 🫧ㆍ₊⊹

✦ 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 ;; rafayel x afab!reader ✦ 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾 ;; slightly suggestive, slight fluff - mostly brainrots ✦ 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗌 ;; clothed grinding! slight making out! spoilers for + heavily based off of raf's myth! ambiguous ending! reader is in denial! reciprocated love! sadistic rafayel! slight demeaning / derogatory tone! mean rafayel! ✦ 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 ;; 2.9k ✦ 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝖻𝖾'𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾 ;; my first ever proper rafayel fic. i really tried to write smut but i was and never will be one - for now, at least. it's been so long since i wrote something but, the rafayel girlies in the LADS official discord server and i were talking, and i just HAD to write this out, you know? i rushed this out in like 3 days in between classes and studying, so not my best work... t-t anyway! enjoy~

You supposed that it was a good thing - after all, the ocean was loved by you, as though it was real, and true. You imagined what it would be like, to be loved by the ocean (and you refuse to believe the image of him appearing in your mind as soon as you think it).

It was yet another sleepless night - you could tell. The sands from the bay billowed into the air, mingling into the ocean’s scent as though in a romantic waltz, the howling barely audible yet so loud to you. You did not know what to do; for you were never this sensitive to the  ocean’s gaze and touch until before…him.

You swing your feet down to the carpeted floor, cashmere wool tickling your bare feet imperceptibly as you make your way towards the window, praying to the stars that the marble flooring beneath the carpet was not too cold. It had been chilly of late, more so with his absence, you realised. You try to push away these foreign feelings, dawning on you like a stormcloud, fogging over violent seas. It made sense not to indulge in them - a princess falling in love with a Lemurian? That would be unheard of (you dare not say you wished it was just).

Pulling open the door to the balcony carefully, so that it would not creak, you peeked out, finding dark clouds rapidly looming in the sky, a big mass of darkness. You sighed softly, dejection almost visible in your bodily language as your shoulders drooped lightly, a mirage of exhaustion creeping into your features. If Miss Natasha saw you as such, she would be berating you for your ‘unlady-like posture’. You could almost hear her, you realised, giggling to yourself quietly as you made your way back to your bed, the short distance from the balcony to your bed covered in a few mere strides.

Miss Natasha only meant well ever since she had found you unconscious near the ocean. Without a second doubt, she had taken you in and fed you, gave you shelter and some work to keep yourself occupied with - along with a name. She would press a warm towel to the red mark of a koi fish - that she found burnt just under your left breast, on your ribcage - whenever it burnt. You did not realise it before, but Miss Natasha knew what it was; and for your safety, she had to keep quiet.

You gingerly sat down on your bed, looking out the window through the fluttering gaps of the billowing curtains, the moon illuminating your room, bathing it in its romantic glow. You fiddled with your fingers, picking and pulling at the skin around your nails - one habit that always warranted you a harsh reprimanding and an earful, as well as a manicure from Miss Natasha.

A flash of purple caught your eyes as you spotted the fishtail beacon next to you - one that he had given.

You knew he always smelled like the ocean from the infrequent times that you both have met - sea salt, with a hint of lavender and burnt sugar. Oftentimes, you wished you could bottle it up and store it away. A little reminder of him, locked away in a part of your chambers for you to use whenever you missed him - which was often, but it is not like you would admit it out loud.

“Holding it like this, I’ll sense Your Highness’s presence.”

His voice echoed in your ears from that night; the warm timbre, that look he gave you when teaching you how to use it, the warmth from his hands as they enveloped yours… you shook your head to clear the thoughts. Hesitantly, you reached out to hold the fishtail beacon in your palm, tracing the detailed fins and tail, a smile worming its way to your face as you sighed softly. You could almost feel it - feel him - if you closed your eyes.

Thinking of, there are a lot of things you would not admit out loud - especially about him. You rubbed your eyes carefully, the revelation somehow exhausting you.

“Your Highness has been harassing my fishtail beacon for quite some time now. Did Your Highness wish to see me?”

Your head snapped up, all sense of weariness gone as you gaped at the purple clad man in front of you, leaning against the wall next to your window. You swallowed harshly at the realisation of how he looked like he belonged there, in your bedchambers, your head spinning.

You asked dumbly, despite you gripping the fishtail beacon tightly in your hands, your fingers still fiddling with its end. You pretended to not notice Rafayel’s full body shiver as you caressed the fishtail beacon, and you certainly did not notice his breath hitch, nor his voice get deeper.

“Rafayel, what are you doing here?”

“Imagine my surprise when I found Your Highness daydreaming while grasping my beacon as so. Tell me, Princess…”

“Your Highness is caressing my beacon so tenderly. I inferred that perhaps Your Highness was in danger and came rushing over, as a good companion would,”

Rafayel remarked smugly, his voice dripping with confidence, words rolling out like warm ocean waves under the glittering sun. He clicked off his mask, placing it on your bedside table before taking a seat next to you, gently pulling the beacon out of your hands, his voice taking on a raspier edge.

His face moved closer to yours, the fishtail beacon discarded somewhere in the folds of your satin sheets, his breath ghosting over your face lightly. You could feel his gaze weigh heavy on you, eyes glowing slightly in the dark as they bore into your eyes, his lips pulled up in a light smirk before he pulled away slightly, placing a few more inches of space between the two of you.

You cleared your throat carefully, reaching out to grasp the sleeve of Rafayel’s robe, tugging on it and pulling him closer to you as you stood up as well, guiding him to turn to face you.

“What is it that you were so preoccupied with while my beacon was in your hands? Was it perhaps… me?”

Rafayel murmured, his voice saturated with a lilt you could not quite identify before he cleared his throat, standing up quickly, his back to you as he sighed. His shoulders were drawn together, clearly tensed as he hunched into himself. You could hear him muttering illegibly to himself, only catching the words ‘shouldn’t have’ and ‘what was I thinking’. 

You murmured, gently brushing his hair back. You watched his eyes widen in surprise before his body stiffened, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed harshly, a light blush coating his cheeks at the proximity, his breathing slightly erratic.

“Rafayel.”

His voice broke off into a whimper as you tugged him closer, your fingers threading through the hair at his nape, effectively silencing him. You felt his arms gingerly rest on your waist, neither pushing nor pulling as you nudged your nose against his cheek, sighing quietly.

“Your Highness, I- I apologise; it seems as though the waves tonight are slightly uncontrollable tonight- i must retur-”

He parted his lips, his tongue darting out to wet them lightly as his eyes flickered from your lips and back to your eyes. He turned his face away, a hint of shyness evident as his crimson shaded ears made his feelings obvious, maybe perhaps his thoughts as well.

“Tell me what it is that you are thinking of, Rafayel.”

Your voice, albeit hushed, held a lot of power over him, you realised. You would not blame him - after all, if he spoke to you like this, you would react just as he is at the moment - trembling slightly beneath your touch, his breathing erratic as his ears burn red. His body was so warm, so warm that it burnt through your clothes, seeping into your skin and warming your bones.

He started quietly, inhaling sharply as you pressed closer, your head tucking into his neck as you sighed quietly. You could feel his pulse thrumming rapidly under your cheek - your only solace to find out it was just as fast, if not faster than your heartbeat. His grip on your waist seemed to tighten as he sighed audibly, gently pulling a few inches away from you.

“Your Highness- this is hardly appropriate-”

His voice resounded in the room, shaking you to your core despite the confusion. You blinked up at him, your arms still loosely wrapped around his neck, your lips parted in slight confusion. He stared down at you, a small smirk playing on his lips as he realised your innocence. Quickly clearing his throat, he ignored the burning of his ears, bending his knees slightly as his hands slid from your waist to the back of your thighs. Pressing a kiss right on your left rib cage, he tapped the back of your thighs gently once more, as you shivered while entrapped in his arms.

“Jump.”

With a soft, low chuckle, he guided you to a nearby wall, his breath fanning over your face carefully, barely breaking a sweat as he carried your weight. You stared up at him, taking in his features, getting drunk almost, as you counted the number of his beauty marks that you could see, swallowing the saliva that pooled in your mouth at the sight of him so close to you.

“Jump for me, princess.”

Unsure of what his intentions were, yet blinded by all you had, you followed his words, hopping carefully, yet hesitantly. In that moment, as you gasped, he gripped your thighs tightly, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist, one hand sliding to the small of your back, pressing your upper body against his as his other hand held you up from under our thighs, his fingers brushing your butt lightly.

He murmured as he propped you against the wall, his head dipping down into your neck as he pressed a chaste kiss there, his hand sliding up from your back to your waist, his grip on your waist tightening as he shifted such that his knee was between your legs, digging into your skin deliciously.

“You’re staring, Your Highness,”

You sound so utterly wrecked, and nothing had happened at all. You felt his knee jerk slightly, pressing into your core once more, pulling a strangled moan out of your lips. Panicking, he quickly looked up at you, covering your mouth with his hands, his knee rocking back and forth as he watched your eyes roll back in pleasure.

“Rafayel…”

He murmured, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he dipped his down towards your ear, nibbling your earlobe sensually, a soft groan escaping his lips as his hot breath fanned across your ear, shivering from the feel of how close he was to you.

“Quiet now, Your Highness. We can’t have everyone finding out how debauched and indecent the princess is when around her Lemurian companion, can we?”

He continued, pressing feverish kisses down your jaw and neck, gently biting down on your collarbone, licking the bite soothingly as he smirked at your muffled whimpers, his hand still firmly clamped over your lips. You had not registered that his knee had moved away from your core, and that he was grinding against you, his erection so prominent as it dug into your core through the layers of fabric, broken gasps and moans tumbling off your lips, barely muffled by Rafayel's slender fingers, his hand on your mouth pressing down further, fueling your pleasure as your eyes rolled back, the drag of his erection and both of your clothes so delicious.

“Unless you’re into that - then I’d be happy to oblige.”

“Awww...~ Awh, you're so adorable, princess... What, can't handle a bit of pain? Have I spoiled you too rotten, my dearest jewel? Maybe I should increase your pain tolerance. What do you say to that, Your Highness?”

“I have no problem in showing off what is rightfully mine.”

A jolt of electricity went through your spine as you heard his words, a gasp tumbling out your lips, barely muffled by the Lemurian’s slender hand. Your fingers once again threaded through his hair, tugging him up to meet your face as he rocked his body against you, soft moans and grunts falling from his red lips, as he brought a finger to the mark he had left on the junction where your neck meets your shoulder, pressing down on it slightly, watching you squirm as you try to shy away from the pain.

You groaned at his words, your toes curling as he seemed unaffected by the way you writhed under him, a small pout gracing your lips as your tongue darted out to wet your lips, tugging the purple-haired man closer. He could see the desperation in your eyes, and you were sure as hell that he could feel the damp stickiness between your thighs through your clothes. He watched patiently, a predator tracking its prey, watching a shaky exhale falling from your plush lips as his eyes darkened imperceptibly.

"Already so wrecked? You sound so debauched, Your Highness. Do you have no shame? Letting your Lemurian pet given to you as a gift have his way with you... I suppose I really should protect you, hm..?"

“Rafayel,”

Your voice sent a shiver down Rafayel’s spine as he grinded particularly roughly against you, his hips jerking violently into yours as you both moaned out in unison before Rafayel pushed you up further against the wall, clamping both hands down on your lips before shuddering once more, grinding into you slowly, carefully, his teeth gnawing on his bottom lip.

He groaned into your ear, his voice getting rougher as desire tinged his voice with saccharine, timber dripping with sugar-sweet honey a sharp contrast to the drunken lilt of pure heady, unadulterated pleasure seeping into both of your veins. The air was hot, so excruciatingly hot - so tense and you could not think of anything else except wanting to feel him deep, deep inside of you, quenching a never before known thirst that sparked and ebbed from your core, through your whole body, tingling with need, and want, and so much more that you just could not put into words.

Rafayel obliged, bending down and slotting your lips together in a frenzied, sloppy kiss. He panted against your lips, his body rocking into yours slightly rougher; more desperate, as he bit your lower lip, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he twirled it around your tongue, his hand moving to hike your nightgown up, both of your desperate, poorly muffled moans reverberating around the room and travelling between your lips, eyes squeezed shut and fingers tangled in hair and squeezing hips, squeezing so hard you were sure you could see faint red imprints tomorrow. You could feel his bulge rubbing onto your core deliciously, the friction and roughness making your toes curl as you moaned into the kiss, helplessly holding on to Rafayel as your nails dug into his shoulders, his clothes only getting in the way. The heady scent of lust and sweat clouded the room, creating a deliciously suffocating atmosphere that only fueled the need for him to be closer, closer, closer.

“Rafayel, please.”

You begged, your voice so broken, so utterly filthy sounding to Rafayel, and oh, did his head spin. Who was he if not a weak man to his princess’ desires?

He groaned in frustration, breaking the kiss, his eyes trailing a string of saliva that followed as he parted your lips gently, his tongue coming out to wet his lips - more so lick off the remnants of your kiss as he pressed his forehead against yours, pants leaving his mouth as your breaths intermingled, his hands carefully slipping out of your nightgown as he sets you down gently, still trapping you against the wall.

“I would love nothing more than to be yours for eternity, Your Highness.”

“Your Highness… are you…?”

His voice trailed off, filled with uncertainty and yet equal amount of desire as he looked at you, his eyes shimmering with want, ocean blue overshadowing the stiff peaks of pink dotting his irises, the mole on the left side of his nose very much distracting you. You gulped, feeling heat pool further to your core but you shook your head, cupping the taller’s cheeks gently and tugging him down, guiding his lips closer to yours.

“Would you let me have you for myself tonight, Your Quintessence?”

Rafayel froze, his body stiff against your tender hold, ensnared by your words as he gazed at you with wide eyes, his mouth slightly open, clearly not expecting his formal title to fall from your plush, red-bitten lips. You giggled softly, caressing his cheek gently and he gaped at you, admiration, awe and love swirling with the pure want in his eyes, concocting an addicting potion - befitting of a siren, you think, to cast a spell with just his eyes - before he surged forward, pressing a multitude of kisses across your face, suppressing his laugh as he swallowed harshly, audibly, your eyes trailing to his Adam’s apple as it bobbed with the gesture, quickly flicking back to his eyes as he flashed an impatient smile, his eyes storming over with clouds of desire, his grip on your waist tightening as he presses close, tilting his head such that his lips are brushing against yours, his canines catching on your earlobe.

♡₊˚ 🪼・ copyright @scribeofnight all rights reserved ;; do not copy, steal, plagarize, reword or repost to other platforms without proper permission || all credits to original owners and creators of the characters from the media + pictures that are not my own.

[weepingfishturtledragon]

Imagine if a villain was able to infiltrate Captain Marvel's mind and the Justice League had to go into his mind to save him. When they go in, they're greeted by two doors. One door is huge, made of marble and has delicate details carved in and the other is a small broken old wooden door with graffiti barely holding on to its hinges.

First, they enter the marble door and are transported into a battlefield with many of the old avatars of Shazam, all fighting monsters that seem to be trying to get to an orb of pure magic. With the help of the league, the monsters retreat for some time, but not forever. One of the past avatars tells the justice league that they need Captain Marvel to be able to stop the fight, but in order to do that, they need to find Billy Batson.

The team is sent back through the marble door to go through the wooden one. When they enter, they see a room in an abandoned building with very little inside and see a mirage of a little boy. They try to touch him but their hands go straight through, the boy starts to move to the door to leave and the team follows. They keep doing this, learning about Billy's life by going back in time to CPS meetings, foster homes, Billy's uncle's place, and finally to his family's home.

Where they see Billy's family and where Billy can see and interact with them, not as a mirage but his actual conscience. He's obviously reluctant to go, but they convince him it's what he needs to do. He goes back with them, reunited with the power where it fuses with him to create Captain Marvel and defeats the monsters, returning everything back to normal.

[chaylattes-art]

✨️THE CHAYNEMATIC GALA 2024✨️

PART I: WATER

this past month i've been imagining what various OCs of mine-- some from a DECADE ago, some of which i've never talked about publicly-- would look like in MET gala style outfits! the theme was THE FOUR ELEMENTS and characters were sorted into whichever element i felt suited them best.

water | air | earth | fire

director's commentary below the cut!

Zeya Kade (The Gemini Heist). Zeya's look was fun because i didn't want to put her in a dress, and kept seeing all these cool ceramic corsets. the water theme is a bit more subtle with her, though. i wanted something moon-related as the moon represents mystery and Zeya has that mysterious air about her. the pattern on her corset is not marble, but ocean waves 🥲

Maeve Santana O'Reilly & Kitty Royce (UnSuper Squad). Maeve's look is just a simple military style jacket embedded with seashells; she's a pretty lowkey person stylistically but would still be faithful to a theme. her girlfriend Kitty has a cute, sparkly, wave-inspired two piece set accented with pearls. they're not the type of couple to fully match but they do complement each other nicely.

Marie-Claude Prince (Girls With White Teeth). MC is the daughter of a model and an online influencer so you bet she had to serve at this gala. she's wearing a literal mermaid dress, with a seashell bra and iridescent scale tail. while pretty, this looks incredibly impractical to walk around in.

Mila Freeman (Girls With White Teeth). Mila had to be in something cute, because she is cute. she's giving ocean princess in her little sparkly dress adorned in seashells, pearls, and glistening starfish. and perhaps her earrings whisper compliments in her ears like in Aquamarine (2006) bc god knows she needs it.

Blanche Saint-Pierre (Aurora Hearts: Mirage). Blanche is a very old OC (lowkey an Elsa Frozen ripoff lol) that i repurposed for a friend's universe. naturally i put her in an ice queen outfit.

Emma Chakravarty (Strangewayes Library of the Arcane). Emma is a grad student in magical theory. she's a bit of a refined girlie and i wanted to give her something simple but elegant, so a famous painting on her skirt felt like the move.

[miragemarble]

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[ninzied]

wip wednesday

The first thing he sees of the man are the dimples. Twin divots in the low arch of his back, nestled above a perfect, round ass that looks like it’s been carved from marble.

He’s standing at the center of a dimly lit room, encircled by easels and chairs. There are men and women alike setting up at each station, but Alex isn’t looking at any of them. Every step brings him a glimpse of the man from a new angle: a stretch of smooth skin, the sharp line of his jaw. The glint of a signet ring. A flicker of candlelight in his golden hair.

Alex blindly follows Pez’s lead as they walk along the perimeter of chairs.

“Lord Henry Mountchristen,” Pez whispers into Alex’s ear. “But here, he’s just Henry. First time he’s posed for us, so your timing is impeccable.”

From behind, Just Henry had looked as still as a statue. But as Alex keeps moving, he gets a better look at his face and notes the flush to Just Henry’s cheeks, the bob of his throat as he swallows. Henry closes his eyes for a moment, a muscle in his jawline twitching. He takes a quick breath before squaring his shoulders again.

Alex is staring openly now. These small vulnerabilities are somehow even more mesmerizing to him than Henry’s beauty itself.

Alex trails after Pez, unable to tear his gaze away. All he wants is to see more of Henry. He tries not to blink in case it’s a mirage and he loses the chance to draw him in time. He commits everything he can to memory, from the lines of Henry’s thighs to the pink tip of his cock coming just into view as Pez stops by an unclaimed easel.

“Here, Alexander,” says Pez, too late, as Alex takes another mindless step forward and promptly collides with the easel, the scrape of impact echoing loudly all throughout the room.

tagged by: @magicandarchery tagging: @eusuntgratie @carry-the-sky @garglyswoof @firenati0n @stereopticons @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @kiwiana-writes @piratefalls @sparklepocalypse @mulderscully @dreamsinthewitchouse @junebugclaremontdiaz @guillermosfamiliar @indestructibleheart @theprinceandagcd @celeritas2997 @anincompletelist and an open tag to anyone reading this! sorry to any who've done this already today ♡

[merakiui]

hello! I'd like to participate in your event and check in at this lovely hotel of yours! could I ask for a flower bouquet from Idia? I would like some lemon squares and perhaps sugar stars (teratophilia/monster of your choice or werewolf whichever is easier!) if the latter is off the menu then just the lemon squares is fine. Thank you for hosting this event!

yandere!idia shroud x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, dub-con, teratophilia, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, implied stalking note - thank you for checking in, dearest guest! enjoy your order! [lunar love hotel]

Beyond limestone pillars twined with verdant strands of ivy, past orange groves in full bloom, and situated in the center of a marble platform raised ever so slightly, the culmination of humanity—a perfect, precious mortal of flesh and blood—sits in slivers of sunlight and brings brush to canvas. It is not the artistic ability that has left such a hellish, frightful creature so wonderfully enthralled but, rather, the nature in which you resign yourself to the arts, blinded by a celestial cloth, enveloped in the natural temperatures that surround you. Your hand is led by sensitive intuition, acutely aware of the colors that stain a weathered palette, and you grant life to marvelous mirages.

It is that same tender, loving hand that shall slay him, should he step beyond his bounds and interfere with the era of human creation. The world, as it has now become, is dictated by categories so studiously documented on stone tablets and spoken freely in the streets and on hilltops by philosophers excelling in all subjects. And within these groupings the gorgon is feared as the fiend and the human, most often, is celebrated as the courageous hero. Idia is neither fiend, nor hero, but for the sake of human comprehension he must be viewed as the former.

Humans are cyclical creatures, bound by schedules and the times brought on by night and day. Despite the routines they subject themselves to, whether out of necessity or for the sake of comfortable pleasure, humans continue to fascinate. Idia was never partial to them, and yet whenever he admires you his opinion regarding humankind brightens just like the far-off horizons you often portray. And every other day when the sun is at its lowest, just beginning to peek over the horizon, casting everything in creamy yellow-orange hues, you stand at your makeshift easel and paint the world as you hear it, smell it, taste it, feel it.

Idia is content to watch from afar, studying you as though you are the most abstract art he has even beheld. Most days, he’s grateful for the cloth that keeps your sense of sight contained, for if you were to look upon his ghastly countenance you would most certainly harden into an artifact lost to time.

And yet it is the allure of the unobtainable that pulls him to your person.

You feel the disturbance before you hear it. He’s standing near you; you're sure of it, and for a moment you halt your activity, head tilted skywards so that you may listen to the one who looms behind you. With a gentle breeze combing through the greenery and the sounds of various animals filling the silence, the atmosphere is rather tranquil. It’s broken by the fast-paced thrumming of Idia’s heart and his nervous, labored breaths. 

Interactions with humans—especially with his most beloved—are petrifying. But he persists in his endeavors, rooting himself to his spot, unwilling to retreat when he’s managed to accomplish this much. His hands hover above your bare shoulders, and for a second he wonders whether delicate, human hands would fit in clawed, monstrous hands. He’s far surpassed the point of no return and so, with shaking arms, he lowers his hands onto your shoulders.

You don’t flinch, but you do turn your head towards him and by some frantic instinct his eyes and the eyes of a dozen snakes squeeze shut. It is not you who will turn him to stone—this he knows well—but it’s the dread that you might remove your blindfold and bear witness to such a grotesque visage that has him shrinking away. 

“May I be of help?” you ask, and your voice wavers in a way that tells of uncertainty, of candlelight struggling to survive as it’s slowly snuffed, of worries laced with underlying curiosity. “Your hands are very…cold.”

Of course they are. He’s always cold. So cold. So lonely. What he’d do to warm himself in your embrace, to curl into your anatomy and feel that warmth between every sugared smooch, to tear the chiton from your figure and place frigid palms upon a perfect, pretty canvas. 

“S-Sorry… Sorry,” he whispers, cursing himself for his inability to speak syllables without a stutter or a hiss. “I… You… I… U-Um, I…”

With this proximity, he can smell the flowery fragrance that envelops your person. Even your canvas is decorated in shapes reminiscent of the most beautiful blossoms. Experimentally, he squeezes your shoulders, claws just barely raking over skin, and you flinch away. 

“W-Wait! I just want…” He swallows his apprehensions when one of the many snakes wriggling atop his head nudges him encouragingly. Another one lowers to your cheek, prodding you with its smooth head. You try to take a step back, but the tiny reptile hisses a low warning and you go obediently still. “I just want…t-to stay like this…a little longer…”

Please.

It’s wrong and many levels of forbidden, but the contact is everything he’s ever dreamed of. You’re a sanctuary—a beauty not meant for a monster—and if he could just show you that he could be your haven, in spite of snakes and scales, you might come to accept him. An impossible fiction, perhaps, but even so it’s all he’s desired.

With anxiety-riddled submission, you remain rooted to the marble platform. Idia’s grown daring now, a hand snaking along the length of your arm to entwine his thin, spidery digits with yours. Your breath hitches; he’d like to taste your heartbeat, feel it between pointed fangs, and savor your every sigh.

Carnal instinct leads him in a one-sided waltz. He presses himself against you, caging you between his arms and the easel, and ruts his hips slowly, awkwardly. He’s every bit as inexperienced in this as he is with the intimate intricacies of human affection, but then it’s the friction and the sound of your quiet, quickening breaths that has him hardening against the fabric of his own chiton. His presses kisses into your neck, stamps each one onto you like a special marking, until you’re shuddering in his arms. Tears dampen the cloth wound tight around your eyes, tracking down your cheeks in fat, salty drops.

“D-Don’t cry! Um… I… Ah…” Gingerly, he brings a finger to your face to swipe the tears away. Another snake nuzzles your arm, and another presses its head to your lips, a forked tongue flicking out to smell the potent scent of fear clinging to you. You whimper, and it’s equal parts heartbreaking and enticing. “It… It’ll be okay.”

It’s a promise. 

Trembling hands take hold of the fabric of your chiton, lifting it to reveal your rear. He’s thought of this moment for ages—though for a human ages could only mean a decade. It feels as if Idia’s fallen at your feet for worship ever since he opened his eyes on the world. 

“I… I’ve always thought about you—about this.” He places his palm upon the small of your back and observes how your spine straightens in alarm. “I think you’re…” His voice lowers anxiously. “R-Really nice…to look at.”

Your mouth opens and shuts, only to open once more when you gasp. His cock curves up between your ass, and he grinds against you with more determination this time, fueled with newfound confidence. Two fingers prod at your mouth and you deny him with a dismayed whine, but then there’s a cacophony of hisses coming from the many snakes on his head and you part your lips slowly. The digits slip inside, and you suck on them weakly, your cries coming in muffled hiccups. 

Idia exhales a giddy, breathless giggle. “Cute… Really cute…” Fondly, he strokes your cheek with his thumb.

If only he could brand this experience into the forefront of his mind forever…

Unless there’s a next time, and there will always be a next time. 

A forked tongue traces along the shell of your ear. He’s smiling a wide, toothy grin as he rolls his hips, searching for that fabled seventh heaven. And perhaps it's a delusion, but he thinks you’re matching his movements now.

Delusion or not, he’ll carve it into his very existence until he’s a sculpture chiseled whole.

[vampirememory]

pick a pile || future spouse/lover letter!

I am someone personally who tends to find comfort in these types of readings, so I hope someone here can find the same comfort.

Keep in mind that I am still a beginner, not even quite sure if I have abilities, so I will say that this is mostly for entertainment only, but if it resonates with you, it resonates.

I will be using tarot as a guide and leave the rest for whatever is told to me. Keep in mind I won't be editing the written portions, just the portions that I write myself from my intuition and the cards, everything else is raw and unedited.

pick a pile! webkinz dog inspired <3

masterlist

Pile 1

Wow, they have a lot to say I think.

"Hello, dear (a faint chuckling in the background),

my sweetheart, my beloved. My beloved, I can see you, you are not too far away. Do you miss me? I hope you do, I miss you, I miss you the most. How are you? fine? I'm glad of it. You are stronger than you think, you know, that is why i love and adore you. five years ago, I never thought I would meet someone like you, and here we are today. finally you are here, with me, in my arms, something i never expected to be saying. finally finally finally. there's something about you- there's so much about you that i adore. i cant approach you yet. look at you in your elegance, absolutely a marvel and me? i am just a peasant boy, waking and quaking in your presence. will you do me a favor? don't let someone else sweep you off your feet just yet, i promise that when i get my confidence up and my ducks in a row, marbles in a bunch. it will be soon! I promise. i promise i promise i promise, for your sake and mine we need to meet soon! maybe i hope so, I'm not sure.

anyways i do love you, see you soon.

yours forever. "

I believe that this is from their future self. They are fiery and loving and they love you so much. They may be very nervous in your presence but they want you to know that YOU and only you cause that nervousness, it's like they are a shipwreck when they are around you. You give them anxiety and butterflies! They give off very anxious energy, they just want to keep repeating how much they love you. They'll shake your whole body and shout it from the rooftops and the tops of mountains, only you do this to them. They love you they love you they love you, they really do. I have a feeling that they don't express this verbally but they think it so much and they don't want you to doubt their appreciation.

pile 2

I had to do pile 3 before this one.

"Hi baby <3

My adoration, a mirage of all things beautiful and concrete. Except you're real of course! My beloved baby, how are you? Dazzling, as always. A fortress that cannot be torn down, stopped, or blocked, an absolute unit! (laughter here) I love you, you know? You're funny as hell and I'm glad to be with you. My every wish was granted, would you look at that? I guess the universe really is some unstoppable force, except when it comes to you, it bends for you I guess, like you've got some magic powers? But nothing will stop how I feel for you. You are mine. Alllll mine (hearing Stingy saying "mine mine mine"). Sorry I'm clingy, you know I am though and sometimes you tell me that I need to let go a little bit, which is okay, I can give you a little space sometimes, but I'm still stuck to you like a leech, head over heels! My final resting place will be just in your arms, perfect just how I wanted. God, this is like a school essay. Sorry, this is supposed to be romantic, but maybe it can be funny too? I don't know, sorry, I'm being stupid & silly with you but I think you don't care so it doesn't matter anyway. We are so different but we are so good together yk? Two peas of a pod...except maybe we are two different peas, maybe I'm spike-y, lol! Or no, you're probably the spike-y one, okay I'll stop. But my lovely, I'm glad to talk to you. You're such a good friend to me, how do you put up with me? I'll never know, I can barely put up with myself. Have you ever heard that humans think they're ugly because they get used to themselves and their faces? Maybe that is me, maybe I'm just insecure and you see something magical in me, just like I see it in you. Maybe you feel the same way about yourself and you don't tell me, which makes me sad, but you know you can tell me and I wont push it. I love you ok? stay hydrated and things, do the work, have fun, live your life, whatever bye.

okay i'll give you a proper goodbye, a hug and a kiss on the cheek, a proper smooch maybe? no? okay fine. bye my love, see you in the afterlife... JK!!!! I'm not dead hehe>>, okay sorry bye. nonon wait, okay never mind yeah I'm done now, bye." *phone click*

They have a hard time saying goodbye to you, they never want to stop talking to you. I remember another reading on here (sorry I cannot remember which one or who) describing someone as a "down bad loverboy/girl" and that's what I'm getting for you (if someone knows which reading I'm talking about, please send it to me so I can link it here !!). they are cute. you guys might be long distance in the beginning, which is why i got the phone click. but whatever it is, they love uuuuuuu ok? "to the moon and back."

pile 3

"Hello. (I hear a very deep masculine voice here, very prominent) If I've ever seen such a beautiful soul, no soul could be no more beautiful than yours. No sun could shine brighter than the way your eyes light up, nothing can take that away from me- that appreciation I have for you and your beauty. You radiate, you know? I love that. You radiate like the sun, shining brightly and me being the humble man I am, simply adoring you from below. They say that if you look into the sun, you will go blind, but I would gladly go blind for you my love, because you are blinding and I would rather have you seared into the back of my eyeballs and in my mind as the last thing I've ever seen than to never see you again. Everything is for you, always for you, just for you. Why did you go so soon? We barely had begun our journey and you were off again on your great quest for such knowledge I can never give you. I wish I could give you everything but I cannot, only you can do that for yourself and I will let you- I mean, I don't control you. You're free to do whatever you want, I support you, I just miss you..a lot. more than I admit it. Come home safely, bring me a souvenir? The pretty kind, the beautiful kind, but none will be as beautiful as you are; they're only beautiful because they've been touched by the hands of the angel on earth.

hands I am glad to hold one day, hands I will gladly hold forever.

yours,

fs."

Once again, I got very masculine energy from the beginning. They may be very masculine, I'm seeing mostly a male here. It can be the other way around, or really any gender, but that's what I'm seeing here. They're very....formal? Cut edge, straight to the point. They're good with words, they like using them (I just heard "In more ways than one" :I, that was meant to be sexual but I don't do 18+ readings so they can shut it, haha!). They like you a lot, they think you're amazing and personally lovable (lovable just for them and only them, perfect match, a match made in heaven). They encourage your adventures and your thirst for knowledge, the need to explore, although they may not be able to come with you. They root for you on the sidelines though and may provide financial assistance for you to accomplish your dreams. I'm getting older businessman vibes from this, specifically getting a white older 'gentleman' with brown hair and a very thick beard? that might be someone's person, their name might be Micheal with their last name beginning with an R, very specific.

pile 4

TRIGGER WARNING; d3ath, self-loathing, overall a very depressing & heavy energy.

If you aren't comfortable with these things, here is a quick overview minus the heavier topics.

Your future spouse is going through a lot right now. They may be in a depressed and detached state, they might be a player but it isn't something they enjoy. They need time, they don't believe you exist at this moment. Their energy is very sad and dark, although if they don't change, someone else will take their place as your future lover. The lessons they need to learn are important and you should also take your own lessons seriously.

"introducing... you, my beloved lover!

one of three, hehe. or maybe not, maybe you are the one. i don't know why you would think i am the one, did i make you think that? I'm not that good of a person, you know? people toss me to the side and use me like a puppet, toy on a string. i want you so badly...no, i just want someone. have you ever seen those cute movies with cute couples doing cute things? i would love that to be me and someone, someone out there maybe. but maybe I'm not meant for that, I'm not sure. maybe I'm meant to be a plaything and a lesson and eventually end up in a dumpster somewhere (wow wtf?), not from dying though, just being trash i guess. i'd rather not die. i mean, i don't know anymore. if you're real, can you come get me? pick me up? carry me away, safe in your arms? but there's no guarantees though, I'll probably kick and thrash and be toxic and make you feel lonely for a while and I'm sorry. but i promise I'll be yours one day, let me just get it out of my system. or maybe you don't care? i don't know. I'm tired of people pretending to care, if you don't actually care, maybe it's your actual emotions about me. maybe I'm projecting, I'm sorry. i love you. but this is empty. empty love, no cup to pour from. maybe there's someone else for you out there, maybe i need to find myself first.

-someone new."

oh, this got sad and dark :(? sensing that this is current energy, they're in a bad place. sorry for the sad reading pile 4,if you were expecting something happier & lighter-hearted. i hope you can love your fs in the future for all of the shit they have to go through. they'll be better when they get to you, the universe will make sure of it and if they aren't then someone new will come and take their place for them, they're willing to let the spot go because they know you deserve the best.

they do want you to know that lessons are important.

[rainbowsillz]

Hi, I really loved your overblot!riddle fox and I was wondering if you would write something similar for another dorm leader

Maybe Vil, Malleus or Leona

(Also i love your writing, so glad I found your blog)

“ I'd rather be hated than allow for you to go. ”

FT. Yan! Overblot Malleus X GN! Reader.

Tags: Delusional behavior, obsession, toxic, etc.

CW: Yandere.

You can't return to Earth, not when he denied you of this.

Your open-mindedness was what welcoming, for you— who radiated like the sun itself to him.

Malleus was fond of you and that's no secret.

For a magicless student, you were bold, granted that you didn't know who he was. He can tell, it wouldn't be what deterred you away from him.

You were quick-witted, determined, nobody can frighten you. You don't let anyone stomp over you. And you cherished his friendship with you!

It was surreal.

This feels.. more of a mirage.

He'd give the universe to you had you asked him, his passion extends than you'd imagine it.

You had become what he cannot live without.

I mean if I were him, I wouldn't want you to choose your home too, so it sits on his chest, billion of thoughts visiting inside his head.

And like a blade through his heart, it's undoubtedly that you'll pick your family.

Twisted Wonderland wasn't a place where you'll reside forever at, and you trusted him too much that you told him of what you planned to do once the headmaster could send you back over.

He looked calm externally.

You noticed the shift in the atmosphere and decided that you shouldn't have said that.

For a close acquaintance, he'll probably be affected by this, so you didn't bring it up twice.

Hopefully, he'll forget about that.

Malleus didn't. Why would a housewarden like him wouldn't recall this? That's ridiculous.

After that, nothing changed in your relationship and he didn't say anything that indicated about it. Time was fleeting, it continues on, despite the heaviness and the graveness it was for him..

Maybe he was childish because he was hurt.

And a lot of months flew by.

So— karma happened to you it seems.

It started out like any other until this.

It was sudden, for a person who managed to turn the tide around every time where overblots came, this was impossible. Attempts met with reality of him snuffing out everyone's work.

It didn't take an hour, it didn't last for long, thorns wriggled across marble floors, if you turn to the window you'd see that outside weren't much different from the interior carved in.

A prison by yours truly.

You were awake, not because you were a superhuman or that you have an immunity.

It was due to Malleus has to speak to you.

You were a nervous wreck, weren't you? You should be, considering the things he do.

How curious.

Malleus has read stories that good always prevailed, while evil served to make them more memorable and beloved in society's eyes.

So, if you were the hero, what's to be his role?

When you didn't response to him, he wasn't offended by that, an attentive smile fixated on.

“Why do you resist? ..I have neither intention of harming you nor anyone in our college.”

And he was true to his word.

“Jesus Christ, Tsunotarou, this is crazy, you are out of your mind. You can't use magic at us!”

Well, he can but that wasn't your point, okay?

“Crazy? I am that for you, aren't I?”

He mumbled to himself, having him in front of you was less reassuring than you anticipated.

“....Yeah.”

What does he expect you to say?

His hand, tainted with ink, takes hold your chin.

Green pupils misted with turbulence, there was no malice in him, to your surprise, there was sorrow. Malleus was in grief, you assumed.

“Whether it's you or Lilia, I'll be left alone again. Isn't this how I should have it be?”

Your mouth was dry, unable to reply.

He can convince you, he shall, and until then? A slumber was what would befallen upon you.

[5ungchan]

DENIAL ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡. THE FOOL

HIS DENIAL WAS HIS BIGGEST DELUSION. THREADED IN BETWEEN HER FINGERS, SHE TUGS AT HIS HEART STRINGS AND HE IGNORES THE OBVIOUS. HE’D SOLD HIS SOUL LONG AGO. DANCING TO THE TUNE OF THE DEVIL; SHE’D PROMISED HIM A WISH, AND HE’D FAILED TO OBTAIN IT.

WARNINGS: MANIPULATION, GASLIGHTING, GUILT TRIPPING, EMOTIONAL MIND-FUCKING. LEGITIMATE FUCKING: BRATTY, BITCHY READER. FEMALE BODY WORSHIP, CUNNILINGUS, FINGERING, INABILITY TO CUM, SWITCH IN DYNAMICS, DETAILED CHOKING. SWEARING, ANGST, SLIGHTLY DARK CONTENT. POST-NUT CLARITY, ISH.

WORD COUNT: 5.7K

SHOTARO STRUGGLED WITH STAYING SOBER.

He drank you up like it was the only thing he'd ever known. Having never seen any of your insecurities. Shotaro basked in your presence, admiring everything from the surface. It was superficial. Of course, he'd fallen in love with a facade ⏤ a mirage. A woman that refused to let on more than she should. He couldn't see her insecurities because she'd projected them onto him. Making him feel as though, he was the one that needed to change ⏤ not her. She wanted to be loved, and so she used him to feel important: to feel validated. Forcing him to mould his very mind, body and soul to her standards.

WHATEVER SHE SAID, HE DID ⏤ SHE WANTED TO BE THE ONLY THING ON HIS MIND.

Regardless, he couldn't say no. In fact, he straight up refused to acknowledge the fact you'd contorted him so well. Meshing his mind like it was clay; pulling and twisting, making sure you'd dug your fingers into him. Manipulating his mind into believing that he couldn't live without you. Whatever he thought, you had a say in it. Being the judge of his actions, controlling the bits and pieces of his life. It was all easier said than done. But it felt as though, he was bound to fall apart at the seams. He lacked what you wanted in total. He couldn't always deliver. And when that occurred, you pushed him away. Disregarding everything he'd done for you.

SHOTARO SHOULD KNOW BETTER — SUNGCHAN TELLS HIM.

His best friend Sungchan couldn't wrap his head around what Shotaro saw in you. Beauty? Sure, but that was quickly shrouded by just how nasty your personality was. The tall, overly sociable giant got along with everyone, everyone but you. It meant a lot if he didn't like you. He knew you were two-faced, with an ulterior plan behind every move. Every time you'd pushed Shotaro away, Sungchan was there to help his best friend. Although, it hurt him watching his best friend scurry back to you. He was hoping that tonight, this horrid cycle would end for good.

"Gullible, naive...or are you just flat out refusing to acknowledge the truth?" Asks Sungchan.

Annoyed, he leans against the marble kitchen counter, bottle of soju in hand. Staring down at Shotaro like he was a mother scolding his child.

"She's serious about me!" Protests Shotaro, "...Really, she wants to get back together."

Rolling his eyes, Sungchan can't help but drink his frustrations down. A conversation repeated once too many times. He hated you, hated how you stole his best friend from him. Stepping all over his dignity, Shotaro was no longer capable of making a choice for himself. The bitter words ⏤ insults, that he associated with you get stuffed back down his throat. Chugging his soju, he slams the empty bottle back onto the counter.

"You deserve better."

"She's the only one I want. I think you two just...got off on the wrong foot?" Shotaro tries to offer an excuse, protecting your name despite the fact, you'd never do the same. Sighing, he finds it impossible to make Sungchan see eye-to-eye with him about you.

"Like I said: Gullible, naive ⏤ you're honestly stupid as fuck. You know she's bad for you! Said it before yourself, but you're stubborn. Refusing to accept the truth and settling for something so wrong, since you've never known anything right."

A scowl flashes onto Shotaro's face and his chest pangs, "The fuck are you on about? Who do you think you are? Running your mouth about what's good for me?"

"I'm your best friend Shotaro. Been through hell with you ⏤ had your back every time she had you running back."

"Then be happy for me."

Rolling his eyes, Sungchan can't believe the words that are fluttering past Shotaro's mouth. It was all nonsense, it wasn't like him. Not like the Shotaro he grew up with and knew. Arguing was pointless at this rate. Either he learned through his own boundaries, or fell hard on his face from you kicking him out.

"She'll be here tonight. Prove me wrong then. Show me you can stand up for yourself. That you know better than I do."

It's almost as though the walls have ears. A third eye lingering from somewhere in between the drywall and framework. It has a chill running down Sungchan's spine when he notices his words have an effect. Most people would say that the cat dragged someone in after being gossiped about, but in this case: you are the feline.

Strutting into the room with your shoulders held back, chin pointed slightly upwards. You didn't look at the ground, no, you looked straight ahead. People moved aside at the sight of you and it had an effect. From Sungchan's perspective it's almost as if the room had dimmed down. Everything was much darker than before. Were there always this many people in the room? It almost felt claustrophobic as he watches you scan the room, making your dramatic greetings. A cluster of 'hi's' and 'hello's' mixed in with hugs and waves, to the party-goers you knew. Somehow, you knew everyone. But nobody knew you like he did.

Contrary to his negative emotions, Shotaro is a complete different story. The cold soju bottle squeaks, growing tight within his grasps. The condensation running down the label and into his sweaty palms. He's frozen in awe ⏤ like always. His sugar brown eyes widen, lips falling apart before he subconsciously begins to chew on his bottom lip. You always managed to light up the room. Friendly to everyone, you practically glimmered underneath the lights. The chatter and loud house music falls silent. The world is muted, on pause as the room freezes in time. With admiration, he watches as you turn on the spot, stopping when you spot him from the living room.

A soft smile spreads onto Shotaro's face as he practically beams with happiness. Waving in your direction as you meet his gaze with a blank stare. Monotonous, unbothered ⏤ it felt like you weren't even looking back at him, but at the wall behind. Your eyes dart towards Sungchan who glares in return, rolling his eyes as he slowly raises the middle finger. The fool and his companion you think. Typical.

WITHOUT A SECOND GLANCE, YOU TURN BACK AROUND.

Shotaro feels his heart drop down to his stomach. It feels so empty inside the cavity of his chest that he can't help but feel cold. Maybe you didn't want to make a scene in front of everyone? As if anyone was looking. Everyone was getting to the point of being too drunk. However, he's sure you have your reasons. Perhaps, you wanted to keep things on the down low until things were official.

“See? She doesn't want you. Not like how you want her," Whispers Sungchan. Having leaned in close, he places a hand on Shotaro's shoulder making a futile attempt at consolidating him. "You can do so much better. She's not the only girl in this crowd ⏤ Ningning! Over by the window. She's cute, go chat her up!"

Shrugging Sungchan's hand off, he pushes his half full drink into his hands.

"You go chat up Ningning."

Shotaro immediately walks off, abruptly leaving his best friend in the dust. The sourness from their conversation making him feel somewhat motivated to prove Sungchan wrong. Staggering in your direction, the happiness practically beams from his face.

Awkwardly standing behind you, he pokes at your lower back, "Let's talk please?"

Once he's got your attention, he presses his palm flat against your back. Sliding it over to rest atop your hip, wrapping his arm around you.

"⏤So talk."

"Can we go somewhere more private?"

Pausing, you take a deep breath. Truthfully, you didn't even know if you were serious about getting back with him. What was the point of going somewhere private? Regardless, you didn't want to cause a scene. Shaking his grasps off you and silently departing from the living room.

Shotaro meekly follows you through the hallway, each of his footsteps feeling heavier than the last. He feels as though he's walking towards his death sentence, the unease fills his body as he tries to maintain his composure. He wanted to talk, so he'd talk. You didn't even need to look behind yourself, you knew he was following you.

Stepping inside an empty room, you plop yourself onto the bed. The sound of the frame creaks as you cross your legs and impatiently wait for Shotaro to begin.

"Make it quick will you? I don't want anyone wondering where I am," you say.

Shotaro pauses. Shuffling his feet against the floor, he treads carefully with his next words. He doesn't want you storming out of the room, nor does he want you to leave this room without him by your side.

"What's been on your mind lately?" He questions. Sitting next to you on the bed, he can't help but feel hurt. You don't make eye contact, opting to keep your eye on the door. Was Sungchan panning out to be right after all? Shaking his head, he doesn't want to lose hope, not yet.

"What's it you want to hear?" You prefer to give him a vague response.

"I want you to look at me," he begins, slowly placing his palm on your shoulder and nudging you, "Like how you used to."

Sighing, you turn your head to face him. Meeting his gaze, those soft brown eyes of his practically twinkle with some sort of anticipation and hope. A soft smile stretches onto his face when you follow his request. But it falters just as quickly, unlike him, you don't smile back. You hardly did anymore.

"You used to have all the love in the world for me...where'd it all go?" Shotaro can't help but whisper those words to you. Scared of the truth, terrified of how you'd react to him for asking such a thing.

"You're kidding. What makes you think I had all the love in the world...for you?" Scoffing, you can't help but let out a dry laugh at how ridiculous he sounds.

Tilting your head to the side, you lean back and stare at him coyly, "Actions speak louder than words 'Taro. Don't just sit there mumbling about this and that."

Placing your hand atop his thigh, you gently slide your hand up and down the expanse of the area, "Show me what you mean, and I'll respond accordingly."

As expected, you're met with silence on his end. He's flustered. Evident in the way his cheeks are dusted with a subtle pink.

"Sho’," you begin as you continue to lean back. Moving just until you fall against the pillows with a soft 'thump'. Bending your knees, you split them apart slowly. Allowing your skirt to pool upwards, slyly flashing your unclothed cunt. The missing article of clothing that was in question was currently stuffed into the glovebox of your car. You'd planned this.

"...'Taro. Won't you come and find out what I mean?"

Jutting out your bottom lip, you pout at him as if you were some innocent girl. He's oblivious to discern the fact that you'd just refused to look at him earlier, and now? You had all of your attention focused on him.

Feeling content with yourself when you see him stand up to crawl towards you. His knees buckle with a certain mixture of excitement and nervousness.

"You know, you've always been my favourite dancer, my favourite boy. Always so fluid, so expressive. Willing to comply whenever, wherever."

"I just want to do well for you," he sighs. He’d always tried to have your best interests at heart.

Dragging your index finger against the slit of your folds, and coating the tip in your slick, wetness before bringing it up to your lips; tasting yourself. Swirling your tongue around, before withdrawing it from your mouth with a gentle 'pop', "Mmm. Sweet, always so sweet."

He's already ensnared. Silently accepting your offer with a soft smile plastered on his face. Innocent looking, but truly the opposite when it came to you. Shotaro rests at your legs, wrapping an arm around either of your thighs. His palms gently holding onto the skin.

Leaning inwards, Shotaro inhales the scent of your skin. Admiring the body lotion you'd put on. It's much more faint, than it would've been from it's initial application, but it's a scent he'd recognized. Rubbing his nose against the grain of your inner thighs, he grows dizzy from the scent of those faint roses.

With his eyes shut closed, his lips part, tongue sticking out to lick across the faint stretch marks that decorate your skin. Puckering his lips, he alternates between soft kisses to wet streaks of his tongue. Admiring every inch of your body, that was nestled so closely to where your pussy was.

To Shotaro, this is heaven. You were the very woman of his dreams. He was always eager to please you, never saying no to your advances as he constantly navigated your body. He thought he did a good job, but he'd be foolish to think that he'd be able to dominate you. The tables were always turned against him, he was just too blinded to see.

Suddenly, you feel the tip of his nose poke at the top of your labia. Reaching for his head, you gently fist a bunch of his hair and nudge him forwards.

Shotaro drags his tongue up and down your slit, starting off slow before making contact with your clit. The feeling of the papillae on his tongue is enough to make your body shudder. Flicking the bud back and forth, switching to circular movements around the nerve as you spread your legs further apart.

The sound of his tongue lapping against the vulnerable flesh of your body and your soft huffs is enough to make the room hot. It feels closed off, suffocating even, as he gets lost in between your legs. Resorting to plunging his fingers into your depths as he takes a breather. Lifting his head to watch how you've got yours thrown back, mouth agape as your eyebrows furrow with pleasure. He’d always looked up at you, admiring the way you shone with ecstasy.

WITH SUCH A EUPHORIC LOOK ACROSS YOUR FACE, SHOTARO CAN'T HELP BUT FEEL CONVINCED YOU LOVE HIM.

The curvature of his fingers hovers just above your g-spot. The place that always made you shudder, one that you had no trouble reaching yourself. However, for some reason: he never went beyond that. Blindly missing the physical cues your body made. Shotaro couldn't understand why your walls seemed to tense up around his fingers, thinking that this was probably where it felt best. He always guessed incorrectly.

"You're so beautiful. Fuck⏤ it feel good?"

Nodding your head, you silently agree that it does. Until it doesn't.

You hate how he plunges his fingers into you with no objective. Never reaching where they should be. Was he stupid? Huffing, you urge him to add another finger. Maybe now it'll help him reach deeper.

He does. The outcome remains the same.

Instead, you watch as he grows pathetically weak. With his forehead pressed against your pubic bone. Dazed and drowsy, he's drowning in how good you smell. His tongue stretched out to taste you more and more. His free hand moving downwards to palm himself through his sweats.

"Mmph, you're so sweet. So good, so, so..." he doesn't finish as he continues to help himself to your wetness.

Annoyed, you lift your head to stare him down. You always had to cum first, he should know that. He wasn't neglecting you per se, but he grew distracted by how his own length was pulsating against the fabric of his boxers. He wanted to release himself, but he needed to focus on you.

"Fucking hell. Shotaro, stop."

He doesn't hear you, not until you tug at his hair roughly. Forcing him to look upwards. Those brown eyes of his glowing with lust as he freezes when he realizes you're being serious.

"What's wrong? I thought you were enjoying this?"

Closing your knees up, you push him aside as you roll your eyes in annoyance, "Enjoy myself?"

You can't help but feel amused with how lost Shotaro looks. The worry is evident in his face, in his tone, as he sits upwards. Fingers fidgeting with the hem of your skirt.

"What did I do wrong?" he asks, as he's eager to fix things.

"You can never do this right. Always starting off well before getting lost in...whatever this is," groaning, you look away from him, "You can't even fuck me properly and yet you're asking if I've ever loved you."

Shotaro can't help but scoff at how insensitive you sound, "What?"

"Do I need to repeat myself? Seriously, you're not good enough for me. Never was, never will be," you complain, having felt so annoyed with him.

Clearly he'd never be able to meet your standards.

"You can't be serious? You know, I'd always told myself otherwise but you really are acting like a bitch."

"Hmm? Well it's about time you started realizing things," You retort. Lifting your hands up to stare at your nails, you brush him off. Ignoring the way he stares at you completely stunned. It wasn't like your rude remarks were happening for the first time either.

You can't help but roll your eyes, "Why so quiet? There's no reason to be so surprised."

Shotaro feels as though he's been slapped in the face. He'd been falling for quite some time, but now? He'd finally hit the ground hard. The reality of things made him feel embarrassed. All of it practically soaking into his system: you'd finally awakened something in him.

IT HAPPENS WITHIN SECONDS, CATCHING YOU OFF GUARD.

You're completely shocked when you feel Shotaro's hand against your face. His thumb digging into your cheek, while the rest of his fingers occupied the other side. Roughly turning your head to face him.

"I want you to fucking look at me when I speak," he demands.

Raising an eyebrow, you feel stunned. This was new. The way his face had fallen still, his eyebrows furrowed angrily as the creases around his eyes made him look all too serious. He was no longer cute and soft. In fact, he looked so upset that it was quite comedic to you. Maybe, just maybe, you'd pressed one too many of his buttons. Pushing him into overdrive. You can't help but laugh. Your hot breath reflecting against his palm.

"You're laughing?" Shotaro's in complete disbelief, pressing harder against your face and pushing it against the pillows. "What'll it take for you to finally take me seriously?"

Your laughter persists, the way your voice is almost too shrill for his liking. There was no allure to it, it wasn't seductive ⏤ it made his ears ring.

"For fucks sake! Take me seriously for once!" He demands as he moves his hand away from your face and down towards your throat. Wrapping his calloused fingers around your neck, the pads of his fingertips press down roughly into your skin. His fingernails digging in deep as he squeezes hard against your larynx.

Your laughing comes to a halt, instead, you're gargling. With your spit getting stuck in between your mouth and throat. Your airway's obstructed as you can't help but choke. The sound of your hacking and wheezing echoes through the room as he presses harder.

Somehow Shotaro enjoys seeing you like this. The way your face grows slightly hotter, a darker red. Your eyes rolling back into your head with drool seeping from the corner of your mouth. Releasing your neck, Shotaro can't help but feel proud with himself. Finally, you'd be able to take him seriously.

"See? You're so much better when you're not ordering me around, or talking back."

However, the sudden cockiness in Shotaro's demeanour disappears when he notices how you've refused to move much at all. Your chest heaving slowly as he tries to shake you awake.

"Y/N?" He asks.

He receives no response, no sign. Your body lays there limp.

"Y/N?" Shotaro calls out, shaking your body as he uses his hand to gently slap you on the cheek. The worry is evident in his tone as he calls out to you.

"I-I'm so sorry. I had no idea, I didn't mean to go so far!" He protests as he holds you in his arms.

A raspy cough leaves your body, as you weakly raise your hand to rub your eyes. You couldn't see very well, everything was doubled but you'd managed to focus your gaze on him. Taking in the sights: he was worried, oh sooo worried. The Shotaro you knew was already back. But so soon?

Noticing your consciousness, his eyes widen with joy. Hugging you tightly in his arms and pressing your head gently against his chest. A string of apologies flutter past his lips as he rubs your back gently, using his free hand to pat your hair.

A series of raspy coughs leave your mouth, as you can't help but giggle. Sounding like a broken record as you scratch at your throat, the pain was immeasurable. However, the situation was way too worth it to acknowledge the pain.

"Tha-that...all you got?" You question. Lifting your head from his chest to weakly challenge him. Physically you were shaken up, but mentally you couldn't help but feel turned on.

Using whatever energy you had left, you push yourself off of him. Removing yourself from his grasps and falling back onto the mattress. Huffing slowly, your chest heaves up and down with each breath you take. You're practically shaking as your system tries to level back to it's norm.

"Shotaro," you begin, as your fingers blindly play with the buttons of your shirt. You manage to pop open a few buttons before giving up, flashing bits of your skin and cleavage behind the fabric.

Surprising him with a coy smile, you reach out to pull him by his shirt. He follows your lead, leaning in close as you stare at him dead straight in the eyes.

"That’s it?" You question, "Couldn't have gone all the way huh? Now use that...that rage, to fuck me. I want you to ravage me, pull me apart for everything I've done."

"What? I legitimately thought I'd ended you..." Shotaro mumbles in disbelief.

You scoff in response, "Baby. There's no way you could kill me. If one of us dies in this fucked up relationship; it'll be you."

Shotaro opens his mouth to retort, trying to change your mind and to get you to relax and heal. He gets no chance as you tug at his shirt, getting rid of whatever minimal distance there was and kissing him roughly. Your lips push against his as you slip your tongue in between, allowing the wetness to push through and mesh with his.

You don't let him pull away and he obliges, falling into your grasps like always. Cherishing each kiss as he meets your rough advances with his usual tenderness.

"I love it when you're you," you say in between kisses, "When you disagree with what I do, taking control for yourself."

Shotaro doesn't respond. It's not that he doesn't want to, he just no longer thinks it's worth the effort as he uses his hands to reach for his pants. Tugging them down quickly, his erection having resurfaced. He figures it's pointless to ask if you're ready, to go slow. It used to always be about you. However, things changed after today and it had to progress the way he wanted. If you thought he was still soft with his behaviour, you were wrong.

Pulling his lips away from yours, he looks downwards to line your entrance up with his cock. The tip of his dick is hot, slightly more pink than the rest as precum leaks from it's tip. He doesn't tease you: refusing to rub himself in between your folds, or tap at your clit with his member. No, he just helps himself. Pushing inwards with a groan.

It's unlike anything he's ever felt before. The way your walls squeeze against his flesh, he isn't sure if you're contracting your walls yourself, but he simply doesn't care anymore. The role of pillow princess was no longer yours. You'd simply become nothing more than a cum rag for him.

HE’D BE DONE WITH YOU AFTER THIS.

Pulling his hips back, he snaps them forwards pushing into you with force. Starting a pace that he liked, that he wanted. For once, he's the one looking down at you. Holding your hips in place as he fucks into you roughly. Trying his best to ignore the way you furrowed your eyebrows, whilst biting down on your lip. Your eyes are shut tight, eyelashes fluttering against the grain of your skin.

The bruises that decorate your neck are oddly beautiful. Clearly, you'd enjoyed receiving them too. Then it hits him, the sound of your moaning. Weak, toned down and much more hoarser than usual. The sweetness that typically coated your moans and came out with such femininity was gone now. You were quieter, less whinier and demanding.

He liked you this way: submissive. But did he really enjoy you in this way? Helplessly laying there. Allowing yourself to be fucked at his mercy. You had stars in your eyes looking at him like he was everything. But this wasn’t him, you were enamoured by an amalgamation of him caused by all your manipulation.

Shotaro finds himself falling in and out of focus. The pleasure that he feels practically radiating throughout his body is insane. Although, he can't help but feel somewhat unhappy with himself. He couldn't feel content with what this was. It wasn't right.

There was nothing more that he wanted than to see you genuinely embrace him. Loving him for who he was, reciprocating his actions in a positive way. Such a thing wouldn't have been possible in this lifetime. You just weren't built that way, with absolutely no empathy in your body. He can't help but feel that he's wasted so much on someone who regarded him as nothing.

He can't do this anymore. Watching as you shudder beneath him, the muscles in your body tensing up as your back arches from the mattress, your toes curling in unison. You'd came for the first time; evident in the way your insides clung onto him, your hands desperately reaching out for his body. But he hadn't. He simply couldn't.

Wordlessly pulling out, he searches around for his pants. Putting them on hastily, and patting down his clothes in a weak attempt to make himself presentable. Taking one last glance at you, he feels sick to his stomach. How could such a person force him to go so far as an individual. Initially it seemed beautiful, it felt hot and somewhat kinky. But the reality of things had come unraveled. This wasn’t him.

He couldn't recognize the work he'd done. With your clothes barely covering your body, the slight twitching in your legs as you simply followed him with your eyes. You don't move, he assumes you're too fatigued.

But for once, you've kept your eyes on him and it seems like finally, he's won over your heart. The bliss in your eyes is insurmountable, you're practically glowing with some twisted sense of adoration. The light sweat that adorns your body make it feel as though you're on fire. Just as Lucifer had been cast away from the heavens, plummeting down to the ground. Devilishly attractive, deceiving and cunning: you were sadistic in your intentions. It all showed on the surface now.

"Leaving so soon?" you ask, meekly calling out from the bed as you watch him walk towards the door. He hadn't even helped you clean up. It was unlike him.

"Not gonna help me clean up?" Further questioning him, when he doesn't respond.

Shotaro pauses by the door. He wants to turn around, to give in and go wash you up. But he thinks that if he did, he wouldn't be able to walk away ever again.

"You'll manage," he begins. Turning around to glance at you with a soft smile on his face. The kindness in his body was always overflowing. He was genuine, meant everything that he did, and yet you made him feel like a monster.

"Don't bother calling anymore."

THE DOOR OPENS QUIETLY, SHUTTING CLOSED BEHIND HIM.

Shotaro promised himself he would've walked out that room with you by his side. He'd imagined you'd be hand in hand, laughing with each other. Thinking that things could go back to what they once were. But Sungchan was right about him, he was naive and in fact, he was hopeless. Having faith in things that simply wouldn't occur.

Re-entering the party scene, he scans the room for Sungchan. Feeling surprised when he sees him actually talking to Ningning. His footsteps are quicker and much lighter than before as he pushes past the crowd, approaching the two of them. It feels as though the giant weight on his shoulder has been left behind.

"Guess you took up my offer then?" Shotaro begins as he teasingly nudges Sungchan in the side with his elbow.

Sungchan looks stunned as he looks at Shotaro from head to toe, side to side, "Huh? Yeah, your offer, my idea. Either way, where's...you know?"

"I ended it," Shotaro quickly responds, the smile on his face doesn't falter. As he turns his attention towards Ningning, "You must be Ningning, right?"

The doe-eyed girl nods eagerly, giving him a soft smile. Although before she can respond, her smile falters. Looking straight past Shotaro, she almost looks scared. Confused, he glances at Sungchan for any clue as to what was going on. The look on his face is the same as hers. In fact, he's speechless with his mouth wide apart. It's as if the two of them had seen a ghost.

"Ended what?" A voice asks. One that he knew all too well.

Slowly turning around, he can't help but feel like his souls left his body. You're standing there with a bright smile, and yet the look in your eyes is emptier than ever. The clothes on your body are perfectly normal ⏤ presentable. Even your hair rests nicely against the frame of your face, just a tad bit dishevelled ⏤ one could've assumed you'd been dancing a bit too hard tonight.

Everything about you is normal except for the blue and purple bruises that mark your skin. The array of red and violet petechiae patches on your skin make your neck look as though you'd been attacked. And you were.

The feeling of your arm wrapping around Shotaro's waist makes his skin erupt into goosebumps. He's uncomfortable, but you pretend as if nothings wrong. Tilting your head to the side innocently. Staring at Sungchan and Ningning as if everything was well.

"Aren't you gonna introduce me?" You ask as you stare directly at the girl opposite to you. It was obvious you made her uncomfortable as she laughs awkwardly, scanning the room for any sort of excuse to attend to. Her eyes refuse to remove themselves from your neck. She leaves without a word, practically dashing for an exit.

Frowning, you can't help but pout, "What's her deal?"

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He hisses. Pushing you off him as he runs a hand through his hair. You made him beyond frustrated, especially tonight.

"Babe?"

"Don't 'babe' me! I told you we're done!" He protests.

"Done? Who said you made the calls again?"

Sungchan can't help but step into the situation, pushing you back a step with his hand outstretched as you swat at him.

"Stay out of it," you warn.

"Leave Shotaro alone. He's already ended things with you," counters Sungchan as he steps forward again, eager to get into your personal space.

You can't help but scoff at his attitude. Did he think you were scared of him? Tilting your head to the side, you purse your lips in thought. Standing on your tippy toes to suddenly grab at Sungchan's throat with your hand. Guffawing when his eyes widen in surprise, "Just kidding~ I wouldn't hurt you."

Instead of clinging onto his neck, you move upwards to hold him by his chin. Tilting his head to focus on your neck, "But I will warn you."

"Seen the damage already haven't you? Yeah. ‘Bet it was the first thing you saw."

Sungchan being much taller and stronger than you, removes your grasp with ease as he glares down at you, "Don't fucking touch me."

"Shotaro didn't end anything. Not after this," You state as you rub against your neck softly. It hurt but you'd toned up your performance, dramatically wincing at how sore and numb things felt.

Pushing Sungchan aside, you motion at him to move over as you smile at Shotaro. The room falls cold as he stares back at you, mimicking the look of a deer caught in the headlights. You'd pushed him to do this. He’d succeeded in complying with your taunting, but failed to keep what dignity he’d had left in himself.

"What do you want from me?" He fearfully questions.

Leaning in close, you force him into your grasps. Wrapping a tight hug around him as you breath down his neck.

"I told you that you were my favourite dancer ⏤ my favourite boy. ‘Told you that I'd play you a tune you couldn't resist. Tonight you proved that, and you'll continue to do so in the following days," whispering into his ear. Your words carry a strong warning, foreshadowing what's to come, "When will it happen? Who knows."

With a quick kiss against his cheek, you detach yourself, taking a few steps back from him. Walking backwards as you head for the door.

"Oh, not to worry though. You'll manage!" You yell out from the loudness of the crowd, "Don't forget to pick up when I call ‘Taro."

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