#quite small and suffocating in many respects

[patrice-bergerons]

Boston is just. A city, huh?

[yandere-wishes]

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡Acolyte⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

𐙚Yandere! Qimir/The Master x Reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Plot: Your loneliness is suffocating, engulfing. Qimir is the only one who seems to subdue the pain. But every forbidden fruit has its price.

⁀➷Warnings: Yandere behavior, gore, angst (at the end), author having an anxiety attack over this fic  

🪐Note: Why is the longest thing I've ever written for a fandom that barely exists? Anyway, here's the long-awaited Qimir piece!

⁺₊𝄞₊⁺ : Disturbia - Rihanna, Dark Vacay & Motion Picture Soundtrack - CAS

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆🍓⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

Your master's anger is tangible. You harbour it stubbornly on your tongue. Relishing in the frustration. You aren't sure how many times you've cut out your soul to place at a master's feet. Gnawing on perfect lips to keep quiet during another scolding. Your new master's disappointment reverberates through the room. Thick and oozing like an infected wound.

You messed up again.

"We do not injure other padawans during training. We do not lash out and attack, especially when your training partner has fallen. How have you trained for so long without comprehending these basics?"

The rage that boils inside you is not Jedi in nature. It's something else, a bizarre second, something ancient, ghoulish. An all-consuming fire that burns inside your veins. It shouldn't feel so welcoming, so familiar.

You roll your eyes.

"With all due respect master. How is one to win, if they do not strick when given the opportunity? That too should be a basic notion, no?"

You see the anger snake across your master's face. A defeated, disgruntled, glance that you've become a bit too acquainted with. This is the look that all your previous masters give you. And yet none have yet to master its eeriness quite as well as your first master. Master Sol.

Your master sighs, a piercing noise, deflating every ounce of his willpower. You are exhausting to be around, his annoyance is becoming discernible. "Master Sol is coming by the temple to check your...progress. He's requested a few items to take back with him. Please go fetch them from the apothecary."

Progress is a gentle word and Jedi love using gentle words. It's easier to say than the full truth. Sugar-coated things always taste better.

But the sugar refuses to stick to you.

It burns away in your bitterness.

Coruscant is a distant memory, it was never your home to begin with. But the high bustling volume is something that is hard to forget. Here things are quiet, you slip through the bazaar undetected. Small basket clutched tightly. You wonder what's dragging your former master halfway across the galaxy. You wonder if it's really just to see you.

You gaze blankly at the holographic list. A few rare herbs and some medical roots. This planet grows them in abundance, and the local apothecary carries more than its fair share.

The apothecary is an old, disheveled thing. The older Jedi say that its presence is as old as the temple itself. Odd how some things have a will of iron. You gently rap at the worn metal door, waiting for an invitation to enter. The hinges cry as the door opens ever so slightly. You squeeze in, surveying the cluttered den. Careful to avoid the half-empty bottles and neon puddles scattered across the floor.

"Excuse me" your voice holds an urgent annoyance. Where is the pharmacist? What kind of store owner abandons their shop in the midday? You run your fingers across the strange bottles, letting your nails pick at the murky glass. The colors flash, begging to be freed, strange space pinks, and summer oranges all trapped inside square prisons. Baby poisons dying to taste the world, burning it if they must, but experiencing it nonetheless, tasting their own form of freedom. Funny, they almost remind you of yourself.

Trapped and fatal.

"Hello?", the voice behind you is languid, dozy. Mirroring a late afternoon nap. When the man next speaks you notice a lyrical lint "What brings you here little lady?". You turn to see it, the voice, or rather the man harboring the voice. He's loosely robed and shaggy in the way that only the most spirited vagabonds are. He smiles tenderly upon seeing your face, strange red fruit caught between his teeth. "I um...I" you click your tongue anxiously against the roof of your mouth. Feeling around for those pesky words, in the end, you just shove the hologram holder forward, hoping he'll understand.

"Oh, I see, out here doing some chores?" You nod, mind preoccupied with the otherwordly fruit. "what's that?" you ask, schoolgirl curiosity lacing your voice. "What, this?" he asks holding the freckled thing between his fingers, it's only in the mild light that you notice the shimmering gold scattered across its red skin. The stranger laughs, walking closer, he places the hologram base on the black table, clicking it on as he studies the list. "They're called strawberries. They're from the forest planets, not many grow here in the mid-rims." He's nimble as he packs the herbs and roots, fumbling with the straw ties. "care for a bite" he asks, handing you the bitten fruit.

Hesitantly you bite.

Letting the sweetness erupt on your tongue.

"Thank you" you mumble trying not to moan at the foreign taste. The stranger laughs, it's a cheery noise like birds chirping in first bloom tress. "you're a Jedi, aren't you?" he asks stepping around the table, eyebrows furrowed, caught in a dream he doesn't seem to understand. You choke on the rogue static as he steps closer, eyes half-lidded dreaming of nothing. "Here..."

"Wha-" your voice catches in your throat, it's getting harder to breathe.

"Your supplies" He hands you the brown paper bag, motion a little too phlegmatic to be right.

"Oh, right...thanks" You anxiously shove the bag into your basket and scurry out of the shop. Holding your breath.

"Come back soon." the voice chirps behind you.

Your old master arrives by spaceship, a newer, albeit worn model. The landing pad ejects to reveal a small escort.

Master,

Knight,

Padwan,

Apostate,

You stand still watching as they descend. Bits of envy bubble in your throat watching your former master and his band of little heroes. You wish you had their belonging. Forgoing the loneliness to find kinsmanship with your coterie. You swallow down the bitter thoughts as they finally approach you.

Master Sol's smile reaches his eyes. Gentle and wise. The true epidemy of a Jedi in every sense of the word. Funny how he now has two failures under his belt. None of which are capable of scratching his shining repute.

His hands are on your shoulders, bright smile. "My padawan, it's been too long." You try to bow, awkwardly and stiffly. "Mater Sol, I'm grateful you've come to asses my progress". If he hears your doubt he doesn't show it. Instead, he reintroduces you to Yord, Jacki, Osha.

You try to be polite. Gulp down the awkwardness

You imagine the taste of strawberries on your tongue.

Remember their stiff sweetness and prickly tasteless freckles.

You smile. Easier this time.

They'll stay here for some time. Hunting assassins and documenting progress in their free time. Jacki seems more invested in your training than you are, trying to teach you everything she knows. At least she doesn't mind the rough play, the violent strikes, and sloppy prideful defenses. She speaks in pointers and parries. She's the one to drag you along these assassin hunts. Welcoming you...or at least trying to.

But there is something else at play. Darker, broader, Sol and Jecki welcome you into the fray. Yet you still feel your old master's hesitance, he's still wary of you. Worried about your anger, your defiance.

The distance grows, some icy void.

Sol used to tell you fairytales. This was back when you'd been young and bright-eyed. Freshly welcomed into the order and still overflowing with artless hope for a colorful future.

But even back then, he had known there was something wrong with you.

Looking back it was evident.

Every story started and ended the same. Little princess against the big bad world. Holding out until her prince came along. Only problem was the morals never registered right in your little messed-up brain.

Why didn't the princess fall for the dragon, the wolf, the tyrant king with a crown of bones? Why didn't she swoon and sigh over someone rousing, compelling? A paradox wrapped in black ember? Why settle for a sun-painted prince, with no complexities, no mysteries to unravel?

You would have married the dragon, or the wolf, or the tyrant king with a crown of bones.

Even back then, it was evident something was wrong.

The temple's roof isn't restricted per se.

It's rather abandoned as opposed to forbidden.

Maybe that's why you find solace here. The abandonment feels familiar, similar. The chipped cement kisses the soles of your feet, you imagine it's something like walking upon the rough terrain of a star.

You breathe in the night air deeply.

Expecting the fragile scents of moonshine and star glitter.

Instead, you choke on heavy mist and blood-drenched air.

The thing standing in front of you isn't human. It can't be human. It's created from the blackness, ebony in all the ways a living thing shouldn't be. For a second you think you're staring at a black hole. No doubt this creature crawled out of one.

What sheer willpower one must need to drag themselves out of endless nothingness?

"Little Jedi should not brave the night alone."

It speaks

"There are far too many monsters roaming in the dark"

Its face never moves, statue in all the ways the figures towering over the entrance aren't. This statue is something else, a lost page to some forgotten epic. Carved from gems born in darkness. Evil and rotten.

"What are you?" your voice susurrate, quivering in this surreal scene. The air is thicker now, overflowing with raw static.

Your fingers itch for your saber. Only when the cold metal kisses your palm do you regain some semblance of reality.

The hiss, the green light.

The figure chuckles.

Its voice bouncing from every direction. Everywhere all at once. When it speaks the air cackles, raining as if it were a frightened child.

"I am something akin to you, another child of the force" His voice comes out distorted, uneven in tone. "I am what's birthed when one learns of the true strength of the force."

Your body moves on its own, feet kicking the ground sprinting faster and faster before the final leap. You aim for the helmet, for the morbid toothy grin permanently etched within steel. In a flash the word stills, floating around you like fluorescent bubbles, the rain tumbles around you, curving and diving for the wet ground. It dares not land on something within his grasp.

You feel the slithering across your body. They start from the ground, summed from the unknown depths. Clinging firmly to your ankles before inching up your knees, your hips, your neck.

long, slipper tendrils curling around your body. The figure watches, bare arm outstretched. You should probably be focused on how the unseen things are inching closer to your mouth. Not on the toned muscles and limber fingers of the monster. Not on how, for a fraction of a heartbeat, his smile appears genuine, caring, aimed straight at you.

Only You

They finally reach your lips, prying your teeth ajar and flooding your mouth. Sinking deeper and deeper into your soul, your mind, you.

The smile grows.

In a blink you're suspended in the space between worlds, dark damning thing cradling your body.

"The dark side once belonged to the Jedi, yet they chose to discard it. Deeming it malignant, ungovernable."

Your weightlessness unnerves you. You're malleable in this void.

"Those few who embraced its calling were dubbed Sith." He says the word with such fervent pride. Devoted to it's weight and all it carries. You try to roll the word off your own tongue only for it to burn the roof of your mouth.

The stranger stalks closer, lethal and lithe.

The void vibrates, the darkness bends to his will.

He reaches down to cup your face. His fingers feel warm, welcoming. You nuzzle into his palm, fighting the urge to kiss each finger and suck on the dark force they emit. "You..." he starts, his voice shakes you to the core. Its horror amplifies with the proximity. You wonder if it'll cut through steel, armor, flesh.

your flesh.

"You aren't like the other temple dwellers. You have potential."

His thumb presses your lower lip, demanding entrancing. You comply, needing to feel something solid.

Something you've been denied your whole life.

"They keep you locked away. Trading you between craven masters. Seeing who can tame you first."

He nicks his thumb on your teeth,

Pressing bone into dentin.

His essence drips into you.

He tastes of power.

Of dark, dreadful things you can not name.

"They do not know how to train you. How to use your power..."

The world crumbles, ebony midnights giving way to reality. You feel yourself fall, plunging through the air like a comet bent on destruction.

"They only break you further"

Your knees collide with the harsh ground. Skin splintering in the aftermath giving way to bruises and bloodmarks.

The ground feels too solid beneath you.

A poly, a ruse.

You all but expect to melt through it. Slipping and falling into the vacuum, into him, once more.

He hovers above. Absolute in his strength. You're beginning to believe that blackholes birth divinity. Eyes shimmering with fanatic fidelity, staring up at the holy creature commanding the storm.

"Teach me..."

You've never begged for anything so terribly in your life.

But you need this.

this power

this control.

him.

Sol never told just how the princess met the villain.

He never said it wasn't love at first fright.

Sol insists that the local apothecary knows the truth behind the Jedi-killer. Definite that the unseemly man can tell you something important. He sends Osha inside to play Mea. To get the man to talk.

You crowd around the communicator urging back giggles. Yord's chin is placed upon your shoulder and Jecki's cheek rests against yours. Their touches come so early. And yet they are utterly alien.

"He will be so pleased." No sooner have the words chime from the corroded speakers that Sol is ushering you all towards the small metal hut.

Yord entwines his fingers with you as he runs.

Jacki wraps around your arm.

You feel at times they are trying to tame you.

Befriend the feral puppy they found in the backyard.

The apothecary's face is utterly stunned. He's stammering over his words fear glistening in his eyes as he stares at Sol. "Please, please don't wipe my memories. Or whatever it is you Jedi do." A rosy blush colors your cheeks, at his terror. It's terribly amusing seeing someone so carless, anxiously list off everything he knows. You almost feel bad for the poor scared man.

There isn't anything important here. But Sol decides that you will all return at midnight. The Jedi-killer will be back. Apparently, Qimir -that's his name, that the strawberry-eating, disheveled pharmacist's name- is holding something of value for her.

There's a tug on your wrist as you go to follow the others. Gentle and firm as he pulls you to his chest. "Come by tonight. I'll have some strawberries waiting for you." why does he feel too genuine? When you turn to look at him, he's painted in his usual sweet carefree smile that tugs at your heart.

He looks so innocent...

Starlight really brings out his eyes. He's laughing with a nervous smile,

School-boy crush on full display. You're licking strawberry juice from your hands as you listen to him talk. Backs pressed against the rusty wall and bodies half sprawled in the dirt. He's telling you about the first time the Hutts made him retrieve a plushie for their son from another solar system.

Qimir's voice feels like rose peddles melting into your skin. Sweet, jejeune, free. You offer him a berry from your pile. Watching tentatively as he submerges the red fruit into his mouth. Missing your fingers by an inch. He's laughing after the fact, head thrown back as if he's about to engulf the stars. You decide to laugh too.  

"Are you really that lonely," he says in a voice that's almost not his own. You're not expecting the invasive question, although you guess he means well. The words still cut deep. Piercing through the laughter, stunning you for a breath too long. "No...I'm a Jedi, we do not-"

"Form personal connection. I know...But you just look so lonely." He shuffles closer, the dirt particles almost look celestial in this light. Your fingers pitch a civil war. Pinching and clawing at each other. "No, yes. I don't really get along with the others." He rolls his eyes, bored and amused in the same breath. "Yeah, no wonder your money." He's picking at another strawberry, letting the crunch fill up the silence. You're beginning to think he just likes having something to chew on. Gulping down the anxiety with something toothsome.

He's a little closer now, fingers gingerly tucking back your hair. His fingerprints reverberate across the shell of your ear. Lips gliding against yours. You swallow as his lips fall across yours, pushing sweet stars past parted lips. He tastes of odd things, whimsy things. Everything you'll never come to understand. Xeno fruits and asteroid fields. His fingers glide up your arms, leaving moondust in their wake. He slowly parts, holding you softly with his soulful dark eyes

"You taste so sweet"

Strawberry, Starberry, You kiss him a little too deeply.

Maybe your new master is right.

Maybe there are other ways of being a Jedi.

The movie playing is doused in shades of rose and lilac. Gentle in all the ways. Everyway. The twi'lek girl is in love with the zabrak boy and their families do not approve. You think you remember Sol telling you a similar tale.  

The makeshift auditorium is cozy. Brown couch housing the three of you and your armada of blankets and popcorn buckets. Jacki's head is in your lap, you're playing with the end of her braid imagining the hair to be the lace of a Love-sick girl's ballgown. Yord's arm traverses the length of your arm, absentminded as he studies the motion picture, poking holes in the lose rose-tainted plot. Your head rests against his broad shoulder taking in his new cologne.

Maybe you really did miss them.

Jacki reaches for the popcorn, offering you some before shoving a handful into her mouth. You think the little symmetry-less kernels would taste better with a strawberry glaze. Qimir flashes across your mind, smiling sweetly as he tilts his head.

You think you're a little too similar to the star on screen.

Pinning after forbidden love,

Forbidden power.

Master Sol is growing acutely aware of your drastic improvements. He's noticed the betterment in your offense, your defense. To the way, you wield your saber, your techniques, and yourself. There is esteem in the way he smiles. In the words of praise, you've longed to hear. But you notice the lingering glances, the undertone of skepticism and worry when he asks about practice. He doesn't need to know of the black-glad creature that trains you in the unholy hours.

He doesn't need to know how beautifully your new master sculpts your rage into lessons. Teaching you how to wrangle the force and control it. How to use it to make the world bow.

These things will remain secret. For you fear Sol and the others will strip them of you. Strip them of the new master you've come to worship.

"Do you think people glow when they fall in love?" Jacki's voice is filled with sleep. Eyes closed as she murmurs remnants of movie memory. "No, I don't believe they do" you answer. "too...bad" There was a yawn there darling and vigorous like the rests of her. She looks so sweet like this, infantile in all the ways she can't be. Little girl dreaming of something impossible. You wonder if Sol's told her the fairytales too. You kiss the crown of her head, your baby sister you think. And big brother Yord, snoring with his head thrown back.

Maybe you should test her theory. rising softly from the couch you make your way to the door. Throwing one final glance at your sleeping siblings. Before going to find Qimir.

His lips ghost over yours, spilling star-clad secrets between each kiss. The apothecary has never been so dark, so secret, so secluded. Qimir's lips glided across your neck biting the flesh and licking the little diamond droplets of blood. Your nails rack across his spine, the wool of his throw-over itching the backs of your hands. "So precious" he mumbles, voice ridden with want, need. it's criminal how desperately he needs to feel you. You writhe under him, "Qimir, kiss." you whine. His lips feel like a lifeline, something keeping you sain. He pushes fireflies and lava pearls inside you, carving you open and enjoying you

He always enjoys you.

It's foggy outside when his tongue clashes against yours. A thick unsettling mist banging against the darkened window. "You're custom-made for me" Qimir mumbles against your lips. "Custome tailored" you boldly correct. "ummm, sure" his hands pinch at your hips, clawing mindlessly and leaving tails to your thighs. But the sensations are growing distant, you hear the heavy hum of saber activation. You psyche cracks

The world is dark,

He alone is absolute.

Your master's mask flashes dangerously across your mind. "Master Sol would be disappointed". You've heard that line a million times. Still, the words cut a little too deep coming from your demiurger. "Gullible" you don't understand, what have you done to earn his rage? He's gone, leaving you in the emptiness, you taste the charcoal from the landscape under your tongue.

Still, you long to call after him.

"Master"

The darkness subsides with the feeling of softness across your muscles. A breeze stirs you from the clutches of slumber. "Good morning" Qimir chirps, soft smile greeting you as you open your eyes. "Qimir, when did I?" he laughs, it's such a pretty sound this early in the morning. Sweet like caramel tea. He kisses your forehead. His quietude is commendable, he tries to calm you with feather-light kisses. You laugh pushing the covers away and still. Frozen.

What's this

The nightgown is lacy and short. It drapes expensively against your skin. Marring it with its tenderness. "Qimir, what's this!" he chuckles, "I couldn't let you sleep in those robes, they looked uncomfortable." You want to argue, to scream, and be angry. But the rage boils down slowly as you notice something dangling around your wrist. A bangle, and an anklet you notice later, black and gold entwined in patterns mirroring lighting stricks. "They're from Korriban, I had some relatives there." oh, why does that planet sound so familiar? "Thanks, but ask me next time before you go playing dress-up doll with my sleeping body" He pouts and can't help but trail a string of mouthy kisses across his neck. Qimir shuffles pulling you onto his lap. Pushing his nose under your chin. His eyes are honey-deo, adoring and scheming. "But you're mine." The possessive ness that flesh across his face is alarming. So is how tightly he grips your waist. It's only in this state of half-undressed that you begin to notice the taut muscles of his arms.

During your most recent lesson, your master gifts you a ripe juicy strawberry. He says it'll focus you, replenish your wither strength. You eat it a little too quickly, forgetting to savor the pink blush within. You believe too ferociously in everything your master says.

He can never be wrong.

You love the way your new master splatters blood across your sleeves. Be it yours or his enemies. He's started taking you out on his kills, having you watch as he hacks and mauls. His enemies must die, no one who doubts such marvels should be granted the privilege of life.

He's only ever spoken in half-riddles.

"Unfortunately legacy is a fickle thing. Tenacious, fervent, yet frail and erratic. No matter how hematological, we all read our bones differently."

The rain falls to your ragged heartbeat. Fast one minute and slow the next. You stick out your tongue desperate for a few drops. Your body is on fire, every muscle pushed to its limit. But the Force is screaming inside you, thumping dangerously between your fingers. You're ready for the next round. Saber ready and only half mesmerized as your master pulls out another blood-red saber. You charge, rage pumping deliciously through your body.

You forget to ask him where he got the berry from.

The next Jedi to die will be Kelnacca. That's why Sol is dragging all of you to the forest planet of Khofar. You think the name is utterly hilarious, the others don't understand the mirth.

Between briefings and Jacki and Yords packing quarrels. You sneak out to say goodbye to Qimir. Scribbling a half eligible not to leave for your master. But the apothecary is deserted upon your arrival, only a taped note on a half-full mortar.

'Gone to get more Strawberries.

Be back soon.'

You wonder if Khofar has strawberries.

Strawberry, Starberry, you're falling between the cracks of so many.

The Sun on Khofar is red, barely breaching the thick canopy. Maybe it's for the best. This scene is not one to remember, but how can you make yourself forget?

Death looms.

Permanent, Eternal

The fighting began in twilight.

The sky has grown two shades darker since.

He had floated in from the high reaches. You'd almost called out to him, 'master', the words die bitterly on your tongue. His saber ignites in the carnage, light growing redder after each kill. The bodies fall haphazardly stirring the quiet night.

Your saber falls onto the woodchip ground. No sound. He has followed you here. Yet it is not you, he seeks. Your master mask is haunting, in the dark the silver mouth glows bright white. Even against a massacre

the smile never relents.

He twirls the red saber with lethal accuracy, red arc severing another life. 'Take the right!' Jacki screams through the force, her eager voice bouncing inside your cranium. 'Don't' you scream but she's already attacked.

Saber sings saber.

Golden light flickers.

Forward. Backward. Lunge. Parry. Flunge.

Just like you practiced. Back in the quiet of the training room. Is it too late to return to the matted ground and wooden swords? Too late for safe comfort?

You won't take it for granted this time you swear.

Your master attacks with vicious zeal, cutting through the light. His black robes bleeding into the night. Jacki, scurries backward, trying to block with every ounce of strength. In one swift move, she spins freeing herself and assaulting his head with the metal of her weapon.

The mask clutters to the ground.

You scream.

He looks every bit the villain here. Blood drenched, water drenched. Smiling like the wolf in a child's picture book. Qimir's face stares back at you, hair matted to his forehead. He's panting, spent. You've never seen him toil. Dreaming him incapable of harm.

Yet he stands above the corpses. Wolf's teeth bared as he slices through the little girl.

It's been years since Master Sol tucked you into bed. Years since he's read you a story and listened to your baseless questions about romances.

You've finally gotten your answer. Painted in a shade of red indistinguishable from black.

Because the villain is too vile to be loved.

You run, catching the limp corpse before it joins the rest, you cradle her close. Tears landing on the orange of her face. There are no strawberry romances here. No sweet forbidden fruits. Just pain, hollow, empty, rotten. "Jacki" your voice muffles into her robes, rain-soaked, tear-soaked.

"Was that its name?" his voice doesn't sound right. No cheerful hellos or drowsy laughs. It's all menacing now, grating and hollow lilt. "Qimir" you wail, sob half caught in your throat. "It can't be you." He shakes his head, smile crooked and maniacal. "I'm afraid so, little one." The force pushed you up, pulling you to him. Qimirs head tilts, his fingers dancing around your throat. Squeezing squeezing squzing. Your glossy eyes take in his unruly appearance. Even now your master looks utterly perfect. Muscles relaxed as he steals your breath. "Master" you whine, your heart shouldn't be hammering like this, leaping through beats like something lovesick.

"(Y/n)" golden light fills the clearing. Yord runs, Prince Charming in every way you should have loved.

Qimir releases you, only to nestle your neck in the crook of his arm. "Don't worry darling. I'm almost done." He blocks the first attack.

Second, third. Yord scrambles to pull you away, missing each time. "Let her go" The urgency in his voice rattles you. He did love you.

Little sister, little princess.

Why is only starting to make sense now?

There's a crack, so loud it echoes across the woods.

"NO"

Yord's body joins the rest.

no no no

"Where were we?" Qimir is every bit the villain.

The dragon, the wolf, the tyrant king with a crown of bones.

"You lied to me, you killed them. Why, why would you do this."

"Because the Jedi say I can not exist." Sith, right those things were supposed to be evil. Hailing from Koriiban, the evil Jedi forced to flee. And here you were having so readily given yourself to the enemy.

The blood flows free in the rain. Dozens of bodies drained.

There's a river of blood. You kneel by the holy thing, dipping your cupped hands into the crimson. You drink deeply from the massacre thinking it'll taste sweet. Qimir pulls you in holding your throat as he submerges you.

Baptized in blood

The world flashes red.

It feels so free here. Floating weightless, letting everything be. The rage can not find you in these depths. Free like an adrift astromech. Free to float amongst the stars.

When you emerge again. The world has grown brighter. You see the wide-eyed bodies, even Sol is among the dead, you swear you see disappointment in his lifeless orbs. You gulp, swallowing the euphoric faint. You see your new master before you. Swimming to him carefully, following the gentle tug of the force. Prey meets predator. Qimir chuckles, the water is shallow by the banks. He sits awaiting, on his makeshift throne.

There is no sympathy here you should know better

"You took adorable" Qimir rasps. Hot breath fanning your ear. "Master Qimir" you mumble shifting as he pulls you onto his lap. He laughs this is submission, a breath away from grasping his desire. He cups your cheeks, drifting his hands to your shoulders. Pulling you closer, bodies melting into one.

His kisses still taste like strawberries. Sweet and metallic. All possession and domination. Biting lips and tongue and flesh. Spilling fresh poison with each snip of your neck. He licks the blood from your fingers with feral pleasure. Swirling his tongue around each digit and pulling it further down his hungry mouth. You swallow the darkness from his tongue, letting him snuff out the little embers of light. The stars are burning away bit by bit. He pushes you under again.

Mornings on Khofar are dark, caught in a perpetual twilight. Qimir wraps his robes around you letting the midnight sink into your bones. "The ships a bit of a walk. But we should be there before noon." You paddle after him. Fingers lashing awkwardly at his hand. He turns and offers you that tilted smile once more, mask bouncing in his free hand.

"Master qimir" you confess, it feels so light on your tongue. Like clutching dying white-dwarf-stars behind your teeth. He chuckles, snapping a berry from a nearby bush. His smile sings of triumph, victory, earned in blood. He places the fruit amongst your teeth. You, his little war prize.

"My little acolyte"

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[empty-fantasies]

Lament

In which Capitano realizes that he is simply a fool in love

Character(s) Included: Capitano

Knight AU, Knight!Capitano and Royal!Reader, slight fluff to angst, possible one-sided love/unrequited love, hurt and only slight comfort (if you squint really closely)

Regal, elegant, refined. It is almost comical to the knight who has witnessed all your clumsy moments behind closed doors.

Gone were the times of youthful adventures and endless mischief. From sneaking into the nearby village and avoiding supplementary lessons to facing the reprimanding of exasperated tutors, Capitano and you were inseparable since the day the king assigned the former as your personal guard.

To be honest, it was quite the feat to have Capitano even entertaining the idea of skirting duties. A young boy then, temptation was easier when you spun a tale of needing to run errands and that it was more training to prepare him for the many dangers you’ll both face in your later years. Yes, that’s how it would always go. You, with a cunning tongue, taking advantage of that growing need to uphold justice and to become the epitome of a true knight was a rather common sight then. Something that also turned into a small prickly thorn as Capitano and you matured. And, the only memories in which Capitano knew more than to be disciplined and how to simply be nothing more than a young boy indulging in childish curiosities.

Fleeting days of joy have ended for both you and Capitano have grown into your respective roles upon coming of age. A poised royal diligent in their studies, committing to their promise for prosperity and wielding their intellect for sake of security. And Capitano, an honorable and just man who became your most trusted knight—unyielding against the daring few who swore to harm the crown and the astute voice you needed when guidance of others was nothing more than false reverence. That is what you and Capitano were. A royal and a knight—bound by the strings of fate and duty to your roles.

Still, Capitano was but a man. And a man he was, coming to the realization that his heart too can yearn for another.

It’s in the way that the feather quill swiftly glides across the parchment in front of you that day. Jet black ink sealing away your future that had long been decided before either of you could comprehend it as a possibility. For duty and for honor, he would have said in moments of doubt and hesitation. It is but a necessary move to protect all those that you cherish ever so much.

And yet, it’s the almost inaudible sigh that has him second guessing himself. Then again, perhaps it is no longer impossible to pretend that he isn’t a fool for believing that fate would give him one small chance. How could he do such a thing when his throat was constricting? Every objection to this arrangement died like a candle reaching the end of its wick. Every letter received and sent was another dagger to his armored heart. Fury, frustration, guilt; a well of emotions dragged him down to the depths below.

The fateful day eventually reared its ugly head around the corner. All preparations were finished ahead of time and it was Capitano who was selected to escort you to be received by the neighboring kingdom so that the ceremony can finally commence. It made perfect sense for why Capitano was chosen. Having been there through thick and thin, growing into the fine knight that he is as you an empathetic and respected ruler, encouraging you that what you are doing is only right despite his clenched fists. Constantly reassuring you that you are more than prepared even though he was not ready to accept a cruel reality.

It made perfect sense. To everyone but Capitano as he stood at the gate, silently toying with the idea of asking you to run away with him. With each step forward, the regret became more suffocating. So much so that all Capitano could focus on was the increasing distance between you and him. Armor too heavy, throat too parched, mind far too distracted. How long would he have to endure this?

“This is Capitano. Knight Commander and my most trusted guard,” your voiced echoed.

Capitano remained silent, regarding the soon-to-be-king with respect that was expected of him. The man was loyal through and through to the sword wedged in his heart he so readily handed over and all he could do was peer up at the wielder at the end—you—who he swore to when he bent the knee that fateful day.

He could only nod in the end, bowing his head and biting his tongue to save the remnants of his heart. He was but a sword at the end of the day. Hardened and shaped to cast aside what distracts him. Merely a knight commander who so happened to have grown up alongside you and has been the shoulder you weeped on in times of need. An extension of the crown and soon-to-be the other man who would stand by your side once the marriage takes place. It was selfish of him to think that he’d escape his role so easily with just a few words. He knew it from the day he walked into that long corridor alongside the former commander, all but naive to the image he had to uphold. He was a knight commander. A swordsman who so happened to have the right tact to earn his spot and acknowledgement from the crown.

Nothing more, nothing less.

[mondaymelon]

₊˚ෆ 𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 | lyney, neuvillette, wriothelsey x gn!reader

( i am fully aware snowfelt is not a word. shhhh just please. ignore it. let's have another silly year together, yeah? )

⤷ they confess to you! reader has liked them for a while beforehand, fluff to start off the year ~ (psps i kn o w its the 23rd but writer's block whammied me against a wall and held me hostage for that time so. its really not my fault /lh)

[ in the dying light of fireglow, hands intertwined below a blanket, they turn to gaze into your eyes, speaking three words... ]

"Cold, are we? Shall I warm you up?"

Ah, but the playful grin tugging at LYNEY's lips already provides you with a sufficient, kindled warmth nestled deep into your chest. The snow cascading beyond the windows, curtains half-drawn over the glass, revealed the picturesque scenery, the land that had grown familiar to you dusted with white… your thoughts were dispersed with a light shake of your head just as the winter breeze swept over the snow. 

The male smiles as you nudge yourself closer to his side, and with a swift snap of his fingers, sparks heat in the fireplace, a blaze whose flames licked the bricks of its ensnarement. Unfair, really, simply unfair, how with such an effortless movement he swept you into your arms, reddened your already flushed, cold-bitten cheeks. “Warm yet?”

“...Too warm,” you manage a complaint, voice barely audible with how tightly you were pressed against him. “You’re suffocating me, Lyney.” At your words, his seemingly unconscious vice-like grip loosened, allowing you a breath. 

“Better?”

“Better.”

The world was quiet. Silent, for not even the wind dared utter a noise. No, that couldn’t be true, for if that were the case, then what were you to make of the persistent flutter of your heart? It was the way his gaze drunk you in that allowed you to dream of such a misunderstanding that he might share the sentiment, with the sight of you cuddled tightly in his arms, your slightly messy hair after he had ruffled it and the rosy cheeks that could possibly bring the most minuscule warmth to his face. 

“Thank you.” Your voice was quiet, it felt small, too small for your liking. Why were you even thanking him? What had he done for you? A lot. Simply too many to count. With his playful demeanor, certainly someone like you wouldn’t be well suited to him. Perhaps it was just a haphazard coincidence that allowed the two of you to meet, or perhaps just a cruel twist of fate that had decided to toy with your heart before discarding it. Either way, these feelings are safeguarded, nestled along with the warmth in your chest… they were quiet.

“For what?” Lyney’s jest of a smile tugged at his lips. “Why, have you finally realized that I’m quite the respectable person after all this time?”

“No,” you playfully hit his chest. Ever since the first encounter, the male had chased after you with reckless abandon, somehow managing to find you in just about any situation you were in. Watering the flowers that lined the streets, discussing work matters with the civilians, he’d appear out of thin air beside you, almost like magic. With a boyish grin on his face and a word or two whispered into your ear, “So this is where you were~” ...You shook your head, ears only growing redder at fortunate past thoughts. “You still remain a stalker, it’d be foolish to hope for anything more.” 

To hope for something more… what a hypocrite, you were. Your own words burned your tongue, the consequence of such a sin.

“Is it wrong to hope?” Lyney’s smile remained, but his tone grew serious. The faint twinkles that shone in his lavender eyes evidently bore his “wrongful” hope. “To wish that perhaps one day, I’ll mean more than just a ‘stalker’ to you?”

Your breath hitched. Say, didn’t these words… sound familiar? Didn’t they resemble lines read from those light novels from Inazuma, covers decorated with roses and sparkles? “Lyney, you-”

“I love you.”

Your words have escaped you. Countless, countless words. Each of them grow wings and flit away. 

“Ah, would it be too cliché to call it a love at first sight?” Lyney let loose a sigh, grinning sheepishly with a shake of his head. “But that was exactly what it was. The second I saw you… my, how generic I sound. Would it be too much to stomach if it was from that moment that I knew?” He paused, pursing his lips. They pressed into a tight line. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “I won’t be hopeful. I know better than that, and you’ve said it yourself. Let’s just… would I go too far if I wished to remain by your side? Not as a lover, surely, but a companion, or a mere acquaintance-”

“Lyney.”

His name is familiar in your mouth. It rests easy on the tongue.

“As a lover. That. That’s what… I want.”

The curve of his lips says well enough before he even opens them.

“Then, as your lover… may I kiss you?” ₊˚ෆ

“Are you feeling alright?”

His words were soft against the cold air, and NEUVILLETTE’s pale-eyed gaze even softer. Fontaine had had its first taste of snow, and with it came its cold finger tips that thoroughly dusted whatever it touched, the streets and tops of buildings painted a brilliant white.

“Yes, it’s just… Aren’t you cold like this?” The male, upon seeing you give the slightest shiver at the sudden drop in temperature, had immediately rushed over and taken off his coat for you to wear instead, where it was now draped comfortably over your shoulders. Warm, and it carried his scent. “I’d feel bad if you were to feel unwell because of me, so please, take it back?”

“Now, that’s something I simply can’t do,” His lips drew the slightest smile, a rare sight you were delighted to witness - the way his eyes crinkled at their corners and twinkled all the more was a pleasant one to experience indeed. “I’ll be fine, I can assure you. It’d take more than just a winter breeze to incapacitate me.”

You furrowed your brows, puffing out your cold-flushed cheeks before making a cross with your arms. “Nope, no can do! We’re heading back to my place, and I’ll brew some hot tea. No complaints, we’re going!” Before the man could utter another word, presumably a word of protest, you took him by his gloved hand and started running forwards. Full well, you knew Neuvillette was certainly at a better physique than you were, but you really just needed an excuse to hold his hand.

Why, exactly? The answer was rather simple.

While you weren’t enamored with him to begin with… after all, how could one be like that towards the respectable iudex of Fontaine, your curiosity got the better of you the moment you realized the stoic man suspiciously resembled one of Fontaine’s many creatures, the otter. The colors, the mannerisms, truly, it all paired up in an uncanny fashion. Somehow, along the line of approaching and getting to know him, you had caught feelings. It was almost funny, how they could sneak up on you like that while your guard was down. Except, now that you had them, what were you supposed to confess? “I started to like you when I realized you were practically an otter, love!”...Ugh, how embarrassing would that be? Imagining his handsome features scrunched with displeasure at your offense is one thing about Neuvillette you wished not to behold.

"...Ahem." Curses, you had been holding his hand for far too long to just laugh it off. You blinked yourself out of your past reminiscence, finding yourself faced with a rather concerned Neuvillette. "Apologies, you weren't responding, so..."

"No matter, are we here already?" You coughed into your first awkwardly, quickly letting go of Neuvillette's hand, however warm his touch may be. Unlocking the door, you swiftly swung it open, letting Neuvillette enter and then shutting it behind you. If you’d known that he’d be coming over - you had unconsciously invited him to your residence - you would’ve cleaned the space up a bit more. Nothing you could do about it now, you supposed. “There’s nothing special, you can make yourself at home while I go fetch some refreshments for us.”

“There’s no need for that.” Neuvillette held up a hand to stop you. “I’m quite alright, and if anything, I’d be delighted if you allowed me to brew your tea for you.”

“What? No, you’re my guest, you shouldn’t possibly-!”

“Ah ah, no complaints. I held mine back, so you should do the same, no?” Great, since when had he started getting clever with his words? “What I need you to do is to go get a blanket and sit at the fireplace. Where do you keep the tea?”

You let out a begrudging sigh. “Fifth cabinet.”

“Thank you.” You did as he asked with less than an enthusiastic self, and managed to light the fireplace before Neuvillette returned from the kitchen, carrying a tray that held two cups and a steaming teapot.

You raised an eyebrow at him as you took your cup, warm to the touch. “My, I didn’t expect you to have any complaints, dear Sir Iudex of Fontaine.”

“...Complaint? Ah,” Neuvillette’s eyes rounded when he realized what conversation you were referring to. “Hm, it’s rather embarrassing to say, however… well, since it was a precious day off, I figured I’d take you somewhere special, to the Opera House or wherever, but instead I’m here interfering in your home… it’s certainly not ideal, is it? My apologies.”

There was a moment of silence, accompanied by the crackle of flames. “Archons, is that what you were thinking with such a downcast expression?” You laughed, seeing his expression brighten. He was perhaps a little too predictable. “I don’t mind, Neuvillette. I was the one who invited you here, so there’s no need for you to feel ashamed that you accepted it. Besides…” you inched closer to him, grinning. “Every moment with you is special enough, it doesn’t take somewhere ‘special’ to make it so, hm?”

The man remained silent. Had you gone too far with your reassurance? His pale cheeks were flushed, had he become so enraged that his face had gone red? Certainly not, for he whispered your words like an echo. “A special moment, you say?” A tilt of your head was enough of a response. “Then…”

“I love you.”

“...Pardon?” The smile on your face slipped, and your ears rung with the gravity of his words. Perhaps you had grown so desperate that the only way to appease that mind of yours was to form auditory hallucinations? You had surely dropped to new, unprecedented lows.

“I love you.”

There’s just something about that gaze of his that makes you want to cry in his arms. Something about it that makes you want to be held by him, to feel the warmth that he holds in the way he simply looks at you, to bask in it like sunlight, to feel loved.

“I love..”

“There’s no need to say it again, Neuvillette.” His face falls, and his beautifully damned eyes grow wide. “I heard it the first time.” You can sense that he’s bracing himself for a response, with the way the smile on his lips draws tight and his stance grows rigid. “To think that you’d be the one confessing to me, why, this was certainly not the vision I had imagined a thousand times over in my head.”

You can see the hope in his eyes. You would never dare crush it, your heart beats for him. “I love you, Neuvillette, so repeat it just one more time, would you?”

And just like that, he melts in your arms.

“Yes, darling. I love you too.” ₊˚ෆ

“My, I didn’t expect to see you here!”

Standing up from his desk, WRIOTHESLEY’s eyes are bright with excitement. 

“So surprised, aren’t you?” You lean on his doorway with a fond smile as he embraces you in a quick hug. You smile as he draws back, “Why, am I not allowed to visit the poor duke, cooped up here with nothing but paperwork to satisfy his boredom?”

Your words were true, and they’d struck a note inside him. The Fortress of Meropide was quiet, almost too quiet these days. Sure, there was the persistent, eternal sound of turning gears and bursts of steam, and the never-ending crinkle of paper under his hands, but with most of the prisoners turning in a little earlier due to the cold, the hallways that were usually filled with chatter that he’d proclaim as “distracting” were no more. Monotonous was the crackle of the flames in the fireplace, but the sound of your eager footsteps rounding the hallways was a welcome sound indeed.

“Certainly not, I wouldn’t lie through my teeth and say that your presence is unwelcome.” His lips were curled upwards in a grin, his husky voice bearing the melody of delight. 

“I’d imagine.” That sneaky smile on your face is almost alluring in the pale light. “Stuck in this office of yours doing tedious tasks for the foreseeable future is not the ideal form of entertainment for most Fontainions.” 

A scoff, a playful one. “Then, have you come to help me with said paperwork?”

The shake of your head was instant, so much so that the man could’ve sworn it came out of instinct. “Most definitely not, Wrio. It’s rather unfortunate to say, however…” You let out a great sigh, one foreboding terrible news. Even your eyes began to tear up at their corners, and your expression became dramatically crestfallen. “I’m afraid this empty head of mine has suddenly become illiterate!” 

Wriothesley swallowed a laugh that almost dared surface and instead feigned a dramatic gasp, a hand over his mouth that had widened with shock. “Oh, dearest me! What a predicament… Then, what have you come to visit me for, pray tell? To sit and stare at me?”

You shrugged your shoulders, expression blank. “To be fair, I don’t exactly know either. I wanted to see you, and my feet just brought me here.” It wasn’t a complete truth, but not exactly a lie either. You had wanted to see him - partially to admire his strikingly handsome features, but also just to, well, exist in his presence. As much as he’d deny it, Wriothesley hated the idea of being apart from you, and his unchanging situation as the duke of the Fortress of Meropide didn’t aid that information. That, and the fact that ever since you had seen him simply strolling through the city, the slightest wind ruffling his dark locks and that sharp gaze of his staring ahead of him, you’d been utterly captured. While clichés weren’t exactly your forte, you had to admit that he was a case of “love at first sight”. And while you had fallen for his looks, his disposition wasn’t something to simply brush aside. Funniest thing? He’d been the one to approach you, striking up a conversation while you were merely having a drink at a nearby cafe, asking if you’d seen a certain wig-wearing dog.

“Excuse me, I’m so sorry to bother you, but have you seen a dog around here? He has a top hat, brightly colored hair, is wearing a suit covered in stickers…”

After joining him on the chase around just about the entirety of Fontaine, the two of you managed to find the missing dog, who was actually a stray being taken care of by a melusine Wriothesley was familiar with, and return it. One thing led to another, and the two of you grew from strangers, acquaintances, and now to friends. Surely, it’d be terrible to wish for something more, wouldn’t it?

“Just tell me you missed me.” Wriothesley’s grin had returned, and he chuckled. “You’re not doing the greatest job of hiding it.”

“So what if I missed you?” You pouted, finally moving past the man and into the office, eyeing the papers on his desk before making yourself comfortable next to the fire. “And who said I was hiding it, dear duke?”

Wriothesley paused for a beat before continuing in his regular fashion. “You’re being rather bold today, aren’t you? Your words… they’re making it easy to misunderstand.”

“Misunderstand all you want, does it matter?”

“Yes, it does.”

“N-”

“Let’s stop speaking in riddles. Make yourself clear, hm? What’re you trying to pull with all these questions?” Wriothesley crossed his arms over his chest, leaning closer. “What, are you trying to be a flirt?”

“Aaaand if I am?” You smiled at his actions, not exactly sure what was spurring you onwards. 

“...Damnit, you… archons, you just won’t listen, will you? No matter, it just makes things easier for me. Hey, flirt, you won’t get all flustered if I say this then, yeah?”

“Say what-”

“I love you.”

That was certainly a way to catch someone off guard. “... the fuck-”

“No need to react that badly, all right?” Wriothesley let out a sigh of defeat, leaning his head against the wall as he sat down next to you. “I didn’t say it for the sake of saying it. It’s true. I’ve been wanting to tell you for some time now, but..” He chuckled, a laugh that was void of what a laugh should have. “I’m rather a coward.”

“I-I didn’t mean to answer like that, you just caught me by surprise-” You shook your head, cursing at yourself for sounding so pathetic, with your trembling voice and words that stuttered every syllable. “...And by your definition…” You drew your knees closer to yourself, hugging them to your body. “I’m a coward as well.”

It takes him the count of three to respond, eyes blown wide. “...Wait, you-” The flush on his face was undeniable.

“I like you too, Wrio.”

“Archons, I… give me a moment. I’ve been wanting to hear that for so long, I think my heart has stopped beating.” ₊˚ෆ

(a/n) greetings my beloved melons. hello. ive risen from my grave to presumably and hopefully be alive for the next couple months. my reqs are all still full so i will be tryna get through em but at the same time i will be doing self indulgent fics. so udhaofjsdlf yeahd ahhahahahaa thats pretty much it on daily melon talk im going to answer my plethora of asks tomorrow because i know your dashboard wont be able to handle it if i post this and then answer 15 miillion asks. you are ever so welcome. also i always hate the way i write wriothelsey and this time was no exception this was so painful blegh ajlfksdmc

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader, @fiannee, @aether-darling 

reblogs are appreciated! line up for a smooch. mwah!!

[tomriddleslove]

Repent.

✩ Tom Riddle x F! Reader

Summary: The one where Tom is confronted by the golden girl of Hogwarts, and he confronts a rather ugly truth. Hatred and desire are very similar things, and Tom can’t tell which one he feels. Alternatively: As Hosier once said “The only Heaven i’ll be sent to, is when i’m alone with you.”

A/N: GRRR WOOF WOOF WOOF

Maybe smut in p2 if people want it?

Songs: Talk - Hozier

The elder Riddle boy found it ridiculous to think he’d be standing here, promoting the very school he had subjected to many terrors, schmoozing with the same snobby, stuck-up wizards and witches for hours on end. His mouth ached from being held in a permanent welcoming smile, and the corners of his lips turned upwards in an uncharacteristic manner.

The role of Head Boy came with countless benefits. For one, he was adored and respected by many, something that was absolutely vital to Tom. Similarly, it also helped preserve his image greatly. No one would question Tom if he was roaming the halls late at night, for he was simply upholding his duties. It became an excellent cover for his now frequent trips to the restricted section of the Library.

There were other less beneficial but still preferable upsides. He got his own room, as the Head boy and the Head girl got their own private quarters. He could be excused from meaningless activities such as the mandatory health education days, if he convinced Headmaster Dippet that his time would be better spent elsewhere. Truthfully, there weren't many negatives to being Head Boy.

Having to spend his valuable holiday time dressed in a rather suffocating suit, promoting Hogwarts as one of the best schools to new prospective parents, was not a part of his role that Tom enjoyed. But if this is the small inconvenience he would have to put up with twice in his one year as Head student, then so be it.

There was, of course, you. That was perhaps the worst part of the job. Having to work alongside you. Tom loathed you, more than he did the average person.

You pranced into the school, having only joined in the 6th year. Within a week of your arrival, the teachers could not stop raving about the prodigy that they had the pleasure of teaching. Your hand shot up before Tom’s, and your marks were almost always higher by 1 damned percent. It wasn’t just enough that you had stolen Tom’s spotlight, no, you made sure you were front and centre in every field. Tom excelled in academics, you excelled in everything. From sports to extracurriculars, no one stood a chance if you were there.

But perhaps what infuriated Tom the most, was that you were nice. People adored you, and you naturally managed to captivate everyone with a sort of charisma that had teachers and students alike stumbling over one another for the chance to speak with you. You had it all, with absolutely no flaws.

Tom didn’t have a valid reason to hate you. With the others, he could attribute his hatred to their foolishness, their stupidity, or their overall incompetence. But you? There was nothing. It was irrational to hate you - the golden girl of Hogwarts, and that was what infuriated him more. It betrayed every rule he held himself to; he always had to be logical and meticulous.

Tom seethed inwardly as he watched you effortlessly charm yet another set of parents, your smile radiant and your words smooth as silk. He couldn't deny your talent or your intelligence, but it grated on him nonetheless. You were a constant reminder of everything he wanted to be but couldn't quite attain.

It wasn't just the fact that you outshone him in every aspect; it was the way you did it with such ease, as if it were effortless for you to excel in every endeavour. Meanwhile, Tom had to meticulously plan and scheme for every bit of recognition he received, always calculating his next move to stay ahead.

His eyes rake down your form, taking in the deep red dress that you wore. No doubt the finest silk draped over your body, a sort of blood red that caught under the dim lights of the chandeliers. Drawing the eye and commanding attention wherever you went, the fabric flowed gracefully around your figure, accentuating your curves in all the right places without revealing too much.

You were undeniably stunning, yet another thing to add to a list of your perfections. You handled the disgustingly leering eyes of the elder Wizards, who came to talk to you, with grace.

A damned Gryffindor too, as though your very presence wasn’t offensive enough.

Gods, he hated you. He really did. Your mere presence was enough to set him on edge, a fire burning through his veins that could never seem to be quenched no matter how hard he tried. He runs a hand through his lightly gelled hair, walking over to the far side of the Great Hall. With the rest of the attendees being otherwise engaged in conversation, he grabs a glass of champagne, knuckles white as he grips the delicate glass stem and drains it in one go. He sets the glass back down and sighs before plastering a fake smile on his face, manoeuvring through the crowd.

As Headmaster Dippet ascended the small stage at the front of the great hall, a hush fell over the crowd. He cleared his throat, adjusting his spectacles before addressing the gathered guests.

"Good evening, esteemed colleagues, parents, and students," he began, his voice carrying easily across the room. "I would like to extend a warm welcome to each and every one of you to our annual open evening here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

The assembled guests murmured their acknowledgements, and Headmaster Dippet continued, his tone warm and welcoming.

"We are delighted to have the opportunity to showcase the many wonders of our esteemed institution to you all," he said, gesturing expansively to the grand surroundings of the great hall. "From our esteemed faculty to our talented students, Hogwarts prides itself on providing a world-class education in the magical arts."

A ripple of polite applause echoed through the hall, and Headmaster Dippet smiled warmly before continuing.

"I would like to take this opportunity to express my deepest gratitude to all of our dedicated staff and volunteers who have worked tirelessly to make this evening possible," he said, his gaze sweeping over the assembled crowd. "Their commitment and dedication to our beloved school are truly commendable, and we owe them a debt of gratitude for their efforts."

Another round of applause filled the air, and Headmaster Dippet nodded in appreciation before raising his hand for silence once more.

"And now, my dear guests, I invite you to partake in the festivities," he said, his tone lighthearted. "Our talented orchestra awaits to serenade you with their delightful melodies, and I encourage you to take to the dance floor and enjoy the evening's entertainment to the fullest."

With a final smile and a gracious bow, Headmaster Dippet stepped down from the stage, leaving the guests to mingle and enjoy the rest of the evening's festivities.

You look over at Tom and find he’s already looking at you, a shift in his gaze when you lock eyes with him. You see him sigh, and motion to the large area of floor which had been dedicated to dancing. The very face of the school, the two of you step up, and dark green clashes with deep red, the serpent and the lion front and centre. Your hand finds his, cold and unwelcoming, and his other comes down to rest on your waist, fingers brushing against silk.

The melodic hum of the violins echo through the hall, watchful eyes on the two of you. Your steps were hesitant at first. Gradually, as you found your footing, your movements became more fluid, if not entirely harmonious.

“Smile, Riddle. At least make it seem like you’re happy to be here.” You mutter lowly, only for his ears. He clenches his jaw, but ultimately he knows you are, as always, right. A small smile graces his lips, looking down at you as he speaks harshly under his breath.

“I’m not happy to be here.” He snaps, and a smirk tugs at your lips as the two of you continue dancing, harshly whispering to one another.

Tom's eyes bore into yours with a fierce intensity, his jaw clenched in barely restrained anger. Yet, despite the tension that simmered between you, you refused to back down, meeting his gaze with a lazy smirk of your own.

"Is that so, Riddle?" you retorted, your voice barely above a whisper but laced with undeniable challenge. "Because it seems to me like you're doing a splendid job of pretending." You quip sarcastically.

His grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into the fabric of your dress with a forceful urgency that sent a shiver down your spine.

Tom's lips curled into a sneer, his voice dripping with venom as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "You think you're so clever, don't you?" he hissed, each word punctuated by a sharp edge of contempt. "But you can't hide your true nature forever, no matter how hard you try. I'm just waiting for the day that perfect facade of yours crumbles.”

Your smirk only widened at his words, a glint of amusement dancing in your eyes as you leaned back slightly, meeting his intense gaze with a challenging one of your own.

"Ah, but dear Tom," you countered, your voice silky smooth despite the tension crackling between you. "I don't need to hide anything. Unlike some people, I don't have dark secrets."

"And what exactly do you mean by that?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear.

You simply chuckled, a sound filled with smug satisfaction as you leaned in to whisper your reply. "Oh, I think you know exactly what I mean, Riddle," you murmured, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "After all, it's not like your plans are a well-kept secret."

For a split second, Tom froze, his eyes widening in surprise before a mask of cold indifference settled over his features. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he snapped, his tone icy as he pulled away from you, his grip on your waist loosening slightly.

“Oh of course not. I’m all the more intrigued to see how it will all play out.” You hum, an infuriatingly smug grin on your face as you look up at him, as bold and blunt as you've ever been.

Tom must admit he’s somewhat suprised. You seemed so demure and polite, he had never expected such directness from yourself.

The song comes to a close, everyone applauding as you meet Tom’s stare head-on, refusing to break away. You go to walk away when his hand wraps around your waist, pulling you back into him with terrifying force as the orchestra begins playing once more, with everyone else joining in.

The sudden tug at your waist caught you off guard, your breath hitching as you found yourself pulled back into Tom. His grip was firm, almost possessive.

"What do you think you're doing, Riddle?" you demanded, your voice tinged with a hint of apprehension as you struggled against his hold.

But Tom's expression remained impassive, his eyes boring into yours with a steely resolve that sent a chill down your spine. "Dancing," he replied curtly, his tone clipped as he held you close, his grip tightening ever so slightly.

He leans in closer, breath fanning against your ear as he speaks.

"You do realize you're playing with fire, don't you?" he murmurs, his voice laced with a dangerous edge.

“I’m not afraid of being burned.” You remark back quickly, meeting his frustrated gaze with a teasing one of your own.

Tom's lips quirked into a sardonic smile at your response, a flash of something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "Perhaps you should be," he murmured, his voice low and tinged with a warning tone.

You let go of Tom as the music comes to a close and he doesn't immediately pull you back. You look at him for a second more before tearing your gaze away and disappearing into the crowd.

Silly, silly girl.

Tom pursues straight after you, murmuring half-assed apologies to the couples he shoves past. The serpent slithers through the crowd, far in over his head, desperate for a glimpse of that red.

As Tom finally catches sight of you weaving through the throngs of people, his frustration mounts, fueled by the relentless desire to confront you. Without a second thought, he pushes past the last couple blocking his path and quickens his pace, determination etched into every line of his face.

"[Name]!" he calls out, his voice cutting through the din of the crowd. But you don't stop, your figure disappearing around a corner just ahead.

Refusing to be thwarted, Tom breaks into a sprint, his heart pounding in his chest as he closes the distance between you. Finally reaching the corner, he turns sharply, only to find you standing just a few feet away, your back pressed against the cold stone wall of the corridor.

A smirk plays at the corners of your lips as you watch him approach. "What's the matter, Riddle?" you taunt, your voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Can't keep up?"

Tom's jaw clenches, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface as he comes to a stop in front of you.

"You think you're clever, don't you?" he growls, his voice low and dangerous.

You tilt your head to the side, a mocking smile playing on your lips. "I don't have to think, Riddle," you reply, your tone dripping with sarcasm. "I know."

A flicker of annoyance flashes across Tom's features, but he quickly masks it with a cold indifference. "You may be clever, but you're also reckless," he retorts, his voice icy as he takes a step closer, crowding your space.

"And you're one to talk," you shoot back, your voice laced with a challenge.

Without warning, Tom closes the distance between you, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist with a forceful grip.

Before you can react, he's dragging you down the corridor, his steps purposeful as he leads you to the nearest empty classroom. You stumble along beside him, caught off guard by his sudden aggression.

He shoves open the door, pulling you inside with him as your eyes adjust to the dim lighting, fumbling around for a desk as Tom slams the door shut, He turns to you, breathing heavily as he takes a step forward, forcing you to back up into the desk behind you.

“What do you know.” He utters, voice low as he clenches his jaw.

"I know enough," you reply evenly, meeting his intense gaze with unwavering defiance. "I know that you're not as invincible as you think you are. Though you’re certainly trying to get to that point."

A flicker of anger flashes across Tom's features, his eyes narrowing as he takes another step closer, his breath mingling with yours in the small space between you. "You know nothing," he retorts sharply, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation.

You should feel ashamed, you should avert your eyes, but you cannot help but feel thrilled at the sight of Tom so angry, a familiar flutter in your stomach as he looks away, his jaw clenched.

The corner of your lips turn upwards into a provocative grin, tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip.

Tom lets his gaze stray downwards for one second and he knows he’s fucked.

Completely and utterly done for. He’s fallen for the most stupidly infuriating, brainless, primal emotion of them all. Tom Riddle, who is smart, manipulative, and cunning, has lost his cool because of lust.

How utterly pathetic.

The realization hits him like a punch to the gut, leaving him reeling with a mixture of disgust and arousal. He hates you, despises every fibre of your being, and yet, that only seems to fuel the fire burning inside him.

You remain silent, observing him carefully as you are not privy to his innermost thoughts.

For a moment, there's a palpable silence between you, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily in the air. And then, without warning, Tom's hand shoots out, grabbing your chin with a bruising grip as he forces you to meet his gaze.

"You don't know anything," he hisses, his voice low and dangerous.

You don't have the time to even think of a response because Tom’s lips are crashing onto yours, replacing every single thought in your head with him and him only.

It's more angry than it is anything else, mouths clashing against one another in a punishing kiss. His grip on your jaw is bruising, a stray hand coming down to rest against the curve of your thigh and push you up so you're sitting on the desk.

He kisses you with fervour, as though he’s trying to steal the oxygen from your lungs and snuff the life out of those damn eyes.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer as you meet his kiss with fervour, your lips moving against his with a desperate need that borders on reckless abandon.

“Tom,” You murmur, a gasped plea as your nails dig into his bicep. He pays it no mind, lips coming down to press open-mouthed kisses to your throat.

It's maddening, the way you've managed to unravel him with just a glance, a touch, leaving him stripped bare and vulnerable in your presence.

But even as he loses himself in the heat of the moment, a nagging voice in the back of his mind reminds him of the danger you represent. You know things, dangerous things, secrets that could unravel everything he's worked so hard to achieve. And yet, in this moment, none of it matters.

His rationale and will is eroded to nothing, consumed by the need to possess you fully.

Your hand wraps around his tie, tugging him slightly as you lean back, breaking the kiss. You gaze down at him, green tie wrapped tightly around your hand, and Tom wants to groan at the interruption, though he refuses to give you the satisfaction of doing so.

“Lust is a sin, you know?” You hum, lips slightly swollen and red as you keep Tom in place, a smirk tugging at your lips.

Tom didn’t care. He wasn’t religious. He didn’t believe in God. Tom didn't care about the concept of heaven and hell either. If being with you meant risking damnation, he was more than willing to take that chance.

“So is Lying. Greed. Hatred. Jealousy.” You list, tugging at Tom's tie with each word, pulling him lower and lower until he’s the one looking up at you. You lean back on your palms, crossing your legs as you narrow your eyes.

“Quite the sinner, aren’t you?” You hum, your voice laced with amusement.

Tom is done for, looking up at you with his mind filled with nothing but a visceral need for you.

“Perhaps.” He mutters, his voice strained.

He reaches out for you but you tut, placing a heel on his shoulder as you forcefully push him down, forcing him onto his knees in front of you with his tie still grasped firmly in your hand. The action causes your dress to slip slightly where the slit occurs in the side, revealing a glimpse of your skin so close to Tom’s face that he can’t tear his eyes off of it. A devious grin graces your face, tilting your head as you pull your plush lip between your teeth.

“Do you believe I won’t get into heaven?” Tom murmurs, stupidly playing into this game of yours as he looks up at you.

You laugh, low and mocking as you look down at him.

“Oh Tom, at the rate you’re going at I’ll be the closest you ever get to paradise.”

Tom may have been strong, but he was only human, and mankind was prone to crumble in the face of temptation.

“What do you suggest I do then?” He growls, his voice a low rumble filled with frustration and desire. You smirk down at him, relishing in the power you hold over him, knowing that you've managed to unravel the facade of control he presents to the world. With a flick of your wrist, you release his tie from your grasp, allowing it to fall limply against his chest.

Your heel remains as it is, pressing down firmly on his shoulder to ensure he remains in the same position as you speak, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Repent.”

Repentance is not something he's accustomed to, nor is it something he's ever considered. But in this moment, with you holding all the cards, he finds himself willing to entertain the notion, if only to appease the insatiable hunger gnawing at his soul.

@schaebickel @mildlyuninformative @gillyweeds @anti-hero03 @lillywildly @multifandom-worlds

[irasamu]

 . . . (🍷) ֶָ֢ 𔓘 I WANNA BE YOUR FAVORITE, THE STAR OF YOUR EYES ; a nakahara chuuya fic.❞

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . bahahaha. smut.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . tw ; nsfw, getting it from behind, anxiety and fear of replacement, um semi public in a sense?, angst if you wanna.

suffocating.

the walls feel as if they will crush you and the floor looks like it'll crumble beneath your feet to let you fall for eternity into your own mind filled with doubts and insecurities.

have you ever been someone's favorite yet at the same time never had the position secured only for you as you know there exists many others who are better then you and who can take your position from you with ease?

this is how you feel as you fist your palms yet keep them placed on top of your lap while your makeup artist scanned your face to see if you needed any more touchups or make up done before your shoot starts ; a lingere shoot.

and you tried to focus on preparing yourself to put on a good show for your dear photographer yet how can you when the other staff talked not so discreetly about him? how they mindlessly blabbered about him being a gentleman to one of the other models he was shooting with some days ago where he had helped comfort her as she got overwhelmed due to lord knows what.

it irritates you.

you are his favorite, not that random model who needed comfort and he offered.

yet it irritates you more on how you are letting the harmless gossips of the staff get to you.

you were about to get lost in your thoughts again had it not been for the staff immediately straightening themselves and getting back to doing their respective tasks. he was here.

he had to be. you knew since you've worked many times with him before and every time he stepped inside the studio, the casual air would shift into a more professional one as everyone tried to impress him directly or indirectly.

"is she here yet?" the steady and calm voice which flows like ocean waves yet has a firm undertone reached your ears.

you immediately perked up as you looked at your makeup artist and made sure she was done with you and seeing how eager you looked, your makeup artist sighed before she smiled. your makeup artist nearly laughed at how eagerly you hopped off from the chair, fixing your robe while you rushed towards the camera setup as you are sure he will be there.

there he was.

you slowed down as you grow self conscious and try to adjust your hair even if there was no need to due to as you just got your hair and makeup done almost ten or less minutes ago.

you felt yourself grow timid as you stare at his back. he wore a maroon shirt tucked in black slacks which only seemed to flaunt his small waist.

"nakahara." you softly called as you stood behind him and the man turned to face you, his face immediately brightened at the sight of you.

"my angel. how are you?" chuuya asked and his tone from before lost the authority and firmness, rather he addressed you softly yet you did not reply. your jealousy taking lead and acting for you instead.

"do i look good for you nakahara?" you nearly purr as you step towards the renowned photographer, hugging his arms so your breasts could push against his arm while you did so. you looked up at him with half lidded eyes and moistened your bottom lip with your tongue.

chuuya looked down at you at this question even if he already knew what his answer was going to be, he was not going to let an excuse of checking you out again go to waste. he deemed himself to be quite a opportunist after all.

the way the white thin lingerie hugged your body and flaunted your curves, the way your revealed skin begged him to mark it with his mouth and the way you seductively looked up at him with half lidded eyes -- it all reminded chuuya of how hard it is to control himself from pouncing at you right now.

he is a professional and so are you. the renowned photographer who is sought after the most in the industry and who has made a name and a empire for himself so big, that even with just the sound of his name ; brands and models drop to their knees as they wish for him to handle them.

though what king did not get swayed by a seductress?

no matter how big his empire is, how big his ego and professionalism are, he always found himself bowing down to you ; the little darling who was known in whispers to be his favorite, his treatment towards you being revealed to the others in the industry in secrets.

"divine. like an angel but that's what you are. aren't you angel?" chuuya smiled down at you as he carassed your chin with his knuckles and the way you gulped!

oh, no angel who fell for the devil had experienced a graceful fall from the heaven!

but they say below the heaven is hell anyway and if chuuya is the one who promises to catch you in his arms when you fall, who even cares about the impact?

"oh angel." chuuya breathed out as he looked at you when you smiled, leaning down to kiss your cheek in what would be a friendly gesture but when he leaned up and stared at you so intensely, you knew it was far more then a friendly gesture.

you stare at him after finding him doing so to you as you cannot look away or rather it's as if you don't want to look away, staring into his eyes. you wondered if he shows the same fondness to other models he gets along with though you hope he doesn't.

the small staring contest you two held had come to a halt when one of the staff member yelled and informed you two that the photoshoot will start soon.

"gonna shine like you always do, right angel?" chuuya asked and you nodded. he seemed satisfied with the reaction as he smiled and patted your cheek before he walked past you to meet with the staff and greet them.

you stood for a few moments in absolute stillness and wondered why he made your heart beat in excitement to the point you forgot the reason you rushed to meet him ; to ask him about the incident with the other model a few days ago.

you sigh and turn around to walk towards the set for the photoshoot. you stop as you stand next to chuuya who was busy giving instructions to the photographer who will be his assistant for the entire time, it looks like you won't be getting to converse with him anytime soon.

you look at chuuya before looking ahead at the set which consisted of a king sized bed covered by grey silk bedsheets and curtains behind the bed which were the same grey as that of the bedsheets, the colors were chosen by chuuya himself as he kept you in mind the entire time while he was planning for this project.

that should have been enough to tell you of his fondness towards you but unfortunately it isn't.

"take your position." chuuya ordered and you nodded, immediately sitting on the bed and feeling the cold bedsheets below you which provided a comfortable and soothing sensation when they touched your skin.

chuuya watched with great interest when you placed your palm flat on the bedsheet to let the coolness of it travel all over your palm. he licked his lips when you looked at him and waited for his instructions.

"take it off." his demand sounded lewd enough to make you gulp. you looked around to see if anyone else noticed it but you concluded that it must've sounded normal to others as they didn't have chuuya staring down at them with a glare, looking so focused.

you slowly raise your hands to hook them around the lacey thin robe and you slowly push it down till one side hanged by your elbow.

"good, give me a good pose now." chuuya told as he immediately got ready to click a picture upon getting the desired pose he was imagining. you saw the staff behind him adjusting the light on top of you and you titled your head back a bit, staring at the camera -- no, staring behind the camera at chuuya -- with half lidded eyes.

you heard him mutter some praises but you were more focused on focusing the way he bit down on his bottom lip while clicking pictures. he looked up again and nodded as to tell you to strike a new pose now.

you feel a bit more calm now at his praise and at how he approved of your poses, looking behind him to see some of the staff members as you hoped they heard him and realised you are his favorite but they weren't even looking at you. rather at the screen which displayed your photo taken and they discussed if this is good enough or does it need to be retaken, deciding on the former.

you remove the robe completely, sitting on the silk bed in the white lingere. you climb and take your position on the middle of the bed, sitting on your knees as you cover one of your breasts with your hand in a sensual way yet chuuya pursed his lips, he didn't seem satisfied.

"angel. you can do better then this." his words may have been soft but they still made your heart thumb loudly in your chest in panick, what if he stops favoring you now? does he think you are getting too cocky and not giving it your hundred percent in shoots anymore?

you quickly think of a new pose and straighten your shoulders as you stop covering your breast and rather use that hand to place it on the mattress as some kind of leverage. you lean forwards on on hand as you smile seductively at the camera.

chuuya hummed as he nodded in approval as he began to click a few shots of you again before he told you to change your pose again though you can't help but look at the staff as you see one of them leaning towards the other, are they going to talk about chuuya and that model again?

this time, you leaned back on both of your arms as you spread your legs a bit and you saw chuuya leaning to the side to look at you from behind the camera again, "spread your legs more."

again, you felt yourself getting a bit too excited and bothered at his instruction. you spread your legs apart more but chuuya didn't stop looking at you as if he was searching for some kind of error, when he found it, he approached you and crawled on the bed.

with his knees near your calves, chuuya leaned towards you and adjusted the waistband of your panties. chuuya took this chance to whisper, "you look a bit out of it angel. everything okay?"

you wanted to nod and say everything is fine to see pride flashing in his eyes at how professional you are, you want him to feel proud at you being his favorite yet none of your thoughts become a reality as you shake your head.

chuuya sighs, "knew it. angel eyes, do you want a break? or perhaps it's the staff bothering you?"

chuuya assumed as he had seen the way your eyes would fall on the different staff members every time as you tried to prove your point to them, a point which chuuya isn't completely a stranger to as the man knew of your intense liking to being complimented, especially by him.

you look down to see your hands grabbing the silk bedsheet anxiously as you do not like the small frown on his face while he thought of a solution. though chuuya sensed your sudden melancholy and patted your head, muttering, "don't worry. it's okay. would you perhaps be fine with doing a personal photoshoot with only me or do you want a break?"

you pondered for a while on both the options and settled on the former one. chuuya looked a bit doubtful at your decision but didn't bother speaking out his opinion. he nodded and turned back to signal the staff to leave, even the men who were controlling and adjusting the lights were told to leave. it will be hard for one person to manage everything but when it comes to his work, chuuya can go great and deadly lengths for it.

once he made sure the last staff member left, he walked over to lock the door before he approached you again and sat on the edge of the bed. he sighed before looking at you over his shoulder,

"what's wrong? you are oddly disappointing today angel." chuuya's words stick deep within your soul and wound your heart. you part your lips to speak but no sound leaves your mouth and seeing you in this state, chuuya tsked.

he grabbed your ankle and pulled you closer, turning his body so you would be caged between the mattress and his body.

"what's wrong? i won't ask this again angel. you are really disappointing me because i know you can do better then this half assed shit." chuuya nearly growled as he grabbed your chin with his lithe fingers, his fingers were rough and so was his grip on your chin though that only made you release a shuddering breath.

"you know what you do nakahara. making women fall at your feet and relishing as you know women will spread their legs for you at one comment." you whisper out and chuuya tilted his head as he chose to stare at you for a while before he spoke again.

he might need to motivate you it seems.

"yeah? let's test it." chuuya smirked as he nudged at your thigh with his knee. "spread your legs f'me angel."

he ordered. taking a shaky breath, you slowly part your legs to let him see the damp spot on the panties and chuuya tsked.

"you got this wet by my voice alone?" chuuya mocked. the shame you felt from his words only aroused you more.

"angel you ruined the lingere." he cooed mockingly and pushed his leg towards your pussy and watched how you rocked forwards to feel his knee press against your clit or folds and chuuya sniggered at the pathetic sight. yet he oddly found it alluring.

"nakahara please." you nearly whined out as you support yourself on your arms, leaning near him and wll chuuya did to let you know that he heard your pleas was to pull back his knee before he pushed it against your crotch again.

you let out a loud gasp as your hands desperately grabbed his collar to pull him down and slam your lips against his and with the way chuuya wrapped his arms around the underside of your thighs, it seemed that he is pleased with your action.

chuuya grabs the fat of your ass and turned you around so he would be sitting on the mattress and you would be on your knees, between his legs. you were still tightly holding his collar as you titled your head and moved your lips against his. chuuya's hands came to wrap around your waist and he played with the waistband of your panties while he kissed you.

one of chuuya's hand grabbed your jaw to tilt your head better as he pecked your lips a few times before parting his lips to let his tongue enter your mouth, he licked the roof of your mouth which made you squirm and then began to push his tongue against your own.

his other hand slipped inside your panties and grabbed your ass, squeezing it. he let out a low hum of approval.

you pulled back from the kiss as a string of saliva connected your lips with his. chuuya didn't let you move back much as he grabbed your nape to keep you within close proximity -- the tip of your nose bumping into his -- and he whispered out,

"were you feeling a bit bothered angel face? hm?" chuuya asked in a soft tone as he rubbed your throat with his fingers (as he was holding you in place by your nape). you wanted to shake your head -- you are bothered but not for the reason he had been thinking of -- but you couldn't as chuuya's hand (the one groping your ass) slided lower to feel at the wetness dripping out of your slit.

the tip of his index finger hovered above your slit and he forced you to move down by using your nape to control you. you pant as you feel his finger enter inside you, the strech of his finger on your walls burned as you didn't have enough wetness to ensure his smooth entrance.

"it's okay angel." chuuya whispered, he had noticed your eyebrows furrow in pain and he stopped gripping on your nape to place his palm against your hip, he rubbed your hip in comforting circles as he waited for a bit before he began to pull his finger out of your cunt, pushing it back in.

his hand left your hip to grab your ass again and he pushed you down to spread your legs even more as he gently thrusted in and out with only one finger. afraid of someone finding out if he did use more due to the moans his two fingers will emit from you.

"sir --" the voice of his assistant made chuuya to immediately pull his finger out of you and you quickly moved away from him.

"what?" even you nearly flinched at the low growl that emitted from his throat so you couldnt even imagine how his assistant, the one at whom this angry tone is directed at, must've felt.

chuuya hissed through his nose and looked at you as he sat at the edge of the bed now. he mumbled a curse under his breath along with complaints of his perfect time getting intrupted. he got off from the bed but approached you. he placed his hand against your thigh and leaned down while he used his other hand to lift your chin up, kissing you softly and ordered, "don't make any noise. and wait."

you nodded and he patted your cheek. as he stood up, you saw the evident bulge forming in his pants and you let out a breathless chuckle as you fall behind on the silk bedsheets, this man will be the death of you.

as you wore your robe again incase the staff decided to enter, you made out somewhat of chuuya's conversation with his assistant.

his assistant informed him of a new project with the same model who he has baseless rumors with and you grab at the lacey fabric of your robe, jealous of how often you hear her name whenever it has something to do with chuuya.

chuuya uttered some words which you didn't hear as you are too deep in your inner turmoil to care for your surroundings. though if you did, you would have seen how hard it was for chuuya to conceal his eagerness.

"i need some time alone with angel face over here. take this," chuuya handed his credit card to his assistant a bit too hurriedly as he lowly added in a tone which could be perceived as a partial threat while he leaned near him so his words could be heard loud and clear,

"try to keep everyone out for atleast half an hour and if anyone comes back before the half hour had passed --" chuuya grabbed his manager's wrist to pull him closer to him as he whispered, " -- then not only will you loose your job and won't be able to work anywhere in this industry but i'll also make sure no one from your family can as well. you understand right?"

chuuya leaned back a bit to raise his eyebrows, watching his assistant nodding frantically created some kind of satisfaction deep in his heart. chuuya nodded and with a hum, dismissed the manager and he waited by the door after closing it again.

he waited.

for approximately ten minutes till all the staff left. he turned around with a sigh yet immediately grinned as he watched you saunter towards him as you swayed your hips from side to side while doing so, as if forcing chuuya to acknowledge you and your body now that there isn't any other soul left here.

"angel what's wrong?" chuuya smirked as he asked, watching you stop infront of him as you take off your robe and let it fall by your feet.

"am i your favorite chuuya?" you ask the question that had left a bitter taste on your mouth as they hanged from the tip of your tongue and slipped down only now. you watched chuuya gulp as he had a difficult time in deciding whether to look at your body or your eyes which watched him with a certain nervousness.

a certain nervousness of being replaced.

"of course you are angel, any doubts?" chuuya voice is soft and perhaps this is why you were so lost in it, not realizing when the man took a step closer to you and placed his hands on the waistband of your panties.

"what's troubling your pretty mind angel?" he spoke next to your ear while his hands laid flat against your sides, one of them slided down to caress your hip.

his voice had been so soft and comforting, so gentle that you immediately began to spill your troubles and sadness as you narrated the torturous conversation the staff was having regarding him and the model he offered a bit of humanity to some days ago and of your doubts and fear of being replaced, of him finding it way more fun and pleasurable to work with her and forgetting you and what not.

you spoke so nervously and in such a shaky voice that it made chuuya pout a bit as he continued to listen to you, nodding every few seconds to let you know he was listening attentively. he felt pity and sympathy bubbling in his heart.

he sighed when you finished and raised his other hand to cup your cheek, pulling you closer to him, "such a little angel and such big fears she has." chuuya pouted some more as he pecked your cheeks a few times.

"of course you are my favorite angel, no one else. angel face, how can you even think that someone else can ever take your place huh?" chuuya asked softly as he pulled your face towards his to peck your nose and you wrapped your arms around his neck. "you know no one will amaze me the way you do, right?"

chuuya wrapped his arms around your waist and turned you two around to press your back against the door and he leaned down to kiss your collarbone. "gonna show you just how much i love my favorite angel. my only angel."

chuuya leaned up to peck your cheek and from there his kisses traveled towards your ear. he kissed your earlobe and then gently bit on your ear shell. his hands slided down your sides and rested on your hips, he digged his nails into your hips and used the grip to turn your around. he immediately stepped forwards to press himself against your ass while his hands moved up to hook under the waistline of your panties and he slowly pulled them down, your panties bunched around your knees.

the cold air of the air conditioners hits your bare and wet cunt, it made you shiver but you shivered more when you felt chuuya's hand slide down and push your folds apart as if to make you more vulnerable to the cold air.

"nakahara don't tease. give it to me. you don't know how hard it was for me to sit here and listen to people talk about someone else being your favorite."

"you say it's hard for you yet with the way you --" chuuya slapped your cunt, you jolted but soon calmed down when you heard him unbuckle his belt and pull down his zipper. "-- kept on teasing me says otherwise. but this is why you are my favorite, right? you know how to keep me on my toes for you angel."

chuuya whispered next to your ear before he backed away a bit to take his cock in his hand, he began to stroke himself to get himself more hard so it would be easier to penetrate inside you. he gather a glob of saliva and spitted on his dick as he knew your natural wetness isn't enough lube to enter you without you feeling the burn of his dick stretching his walls.

"tell me i am your favorite again nakahara." you nearly purr out as you wiggle your ass, eager for him to enter. his words served as a confirmation for you to continue acting the way you do with him without worrying about any unnecessary consequences as he made it clear that he likes it. and chuuya laughed softly as he wrapped his arms around your stomach to pull you closer.

"you are my favorite angel face. now bend for me." he hummed as you placed your palms against the door while bending down and with his other hand, he slowly inched his dick closer to your slit. he pulled his hand -- the one wrapped around your stomach -- back and placed it on your back to make you bend more and arch your back.

his teased you by inserting only his tip inside and he pulled that back quickly too, to watch you whine as you look back at him with a pout. you pushed your hips back as you wiggled your ass. chuuya chuckled at your eagerness but he would be lying if he said he wasn't feeling the same and so, he quickly positioned himself at your entrance once again and entered you slowly, letting out a low groan while doing so as your walls seemed to restrict his movements.

he slowly pushed himself deeper till he was bottomed out in you, he allowed you to get used to his familiar stretch. you relaxed soon and moved your hips slightly back to let him know he could move.

there is no time to talk and for foreplay or anything as none of you know when someone from the staff may enter so everything needs to be done quickly but luckily for you, chuuya always had a liking for quickies.

both of chuuya's hands rested on your hips as he pulled your ass up a bit, slowly beginning to pull out and push in his dick due to the lack of lubrication. this wasn't a problem for long as arousal dripped out of you and past his dick at his slow thrusts.

chuuya sighed in relief at this and began to pick up his pace. his fingers pinched the skin of your hips as he gripped them hard. he gradually quickened his pace even more, each thrust making your body jolt forwards. your palms began to get sweaty and nearly slided off the door but chuuya leaned in, he pulled you closer by wrapping an arm around your stomach again.

chuuya looked down to see you biting your lips as to not let your moans spill out and he grinned, he raised his other hand to push you down even more, then he grabbed the back of your thigh and pushed your leg apart as much as he can in this position.

the tip of chuuya's dick rubbed against that one gummy spot, he knew it by the way your breathing came out in quick pants and so he didn't pull back. rather, he tried to push himself deeper into you and moved his hips up and down to rub the head of his dick against your spot. it made your jaw slack open as you let out wheezes and pants.

"everytime you crumble like this in my arms, i can't help but shiver. don't you see how hooked you have me around your little fingers?" chuuya rasped out as he felt his hips twitch, the rubbing of his dick made your walls contract around his length, so even the slightest push and pull felt really good.

you did not speak, your head lowered as you closed your eyes and grabbed his strong arm wrapped around your stomach. you raised his arm towards your neck and chuuya got the hint, he immediately grabbed your nape and pulled you back to let your head rest on his shoulder as he thrusted in and out at a fast pace again and switched it with thrusting till he is bottomed out in you, moving his hips up and down to rub his dick against your g-spot.

chuuya looked down to see your fucked out expression, your eyes were closed and lips were parted to let out silent gasps and pants while a bit of your makeup began to get ruined due to the way you two kissed. the consequence of the kiss stayed in the form of your lipstick smudged all over your mouth.

chuuya dipped his head low to suck at the spot where your ear connected with your neck with an intent to leave a hickey on your skin.

"nakahara. nakahara please make me cum. wanna cum -- only for you and by you." you cry out quietly, your voice came out as a bit raspy and breathless, this made chuuya to gulp as his sucking intensified.

chuuya's other hand came to rest at your thigh, he pushed you back using your thigh and thrusted in again. when his dick touched your g-spot and he began to rub the tip against it again, your breathing went violent. chuuya raised his head, he kissed your nape before he nibbled at a small portion, sucking on it.

he pushed your thigh deeper, his dick abused your spot more frequently. the forces made the knot in your stomach and lower abdomen to tighten. your walls contracted even more against his length, you whined out his name and a feeling of glee traveled down chuuya's chest and towards his stomach, passing by his lower abdomen and in its journey, it pulled down on one end of the knot and said knot snapped.

you jolted a bit as thick and warm ropes of white painted your walls like the waves of a tsunami, chuuya breathed hard and quickly through his nose behind you yet didn't once stop sucking on your nape till he made sure it left a stubborn hickey which won't come off for atleast a few days.

your walls felt warm and sticky yet there was no fear of getting impregnated as you always make sure to take birth control pills, knowing of chuuya's habit of liking to finish inside you -- whether raw or not.

the sticky feeling due to his cum and how he clumsily thrusted in you to ride off his high felt hot, the sudden attractiveness of hearing chuuya grunt isn't new to you yet this is what pulled on your knot and made you cum.

chuuya rested his forehead against your nape, he thrusted in you slowly and lazily till you stopped shaking. he slowly pulled out and looked down to see both of your cums mixing and dripping down your thighs.

"what a pretty sight you are angel." chuuya breathed out and turned you around, he cupped your jaw and tilted your head up to peck your lips. he worked quietly yet it didn't feel shameful to watch him clean you and the floor as your and his cum dripped down on the floor. he had ordered his assistant to get you the same piece of lingere with a excuse that he accidentally tore the one you are wearing now while adjusting your pose, telling he would pay for the 'damage' he inflicted on the one you are wearing now.

"you really are my favorite though." chuuya told softly as he sat on the edge of the bed, next to you. you nodded as you smiled, crawling towards him and sitting on his thigh. chuuya smiled and carassed your nape where he left a hickey on you and bumped your nose with his.

"i want to remain as your favorite -- your only favorite." you mumble out as you lean in to peck his lips again, chuuya hummed as he leaned in to kiss you again, "you are the star of my eyes angel. my only pretty angel."

"you know how to use your tongue in many ways and somehow you are a expert in all of them, aren't you nakahara?" you murmur as you lean in to softly kiss him again.

"yeah? let me take you out for dinner tonight angel and i'll show you just how good my tongue is."

"you are asking me out on a date?" you tilt your head with a amused smile, chuuya grinned as he nodded and how could one say no to him under whose steps many bow, hoping he would cast just a few seconds of his attention to them.

and luckily for you, you always sat at the throne chuuya prepared for you himself. always the first and perhaps the only one to get his attention and affection.

"you either say yes or i'll pick you up forcefully and take you out." chuuya nuzzled his nose against your jaw, smiling as you snickered. he pecked the underside of your jaw when you muttered a yes, his hands wrapped around your waist tightly yet gently as he did not want you to get up and get away from his vicinity.

[littlest-w01f]

Chapter Three

Series Masterlist

Cw: None

It was around 5 bells in the evening, from the last time Novali had heard the loud ringing as she made her way to Sailas' home in Hewn City, the faerie lights the only thing eliminating the place, she smoothed out her dress, her face expressionless as she walked the busy streets.

Novali, clad in a simple yet elegant dress, strode through the crowded market square, her head held high despite the anxiety gnawing at her insides. She passed by stalls laden with products and wildflowers. Every now and then, she would catch sight of familiar faces, acquaintances who greeted her curtly before going about their day.

As she neared Sailas' house, a sense of unease crept up her spine. This wasn't just another visit, this was different. This was important. The Night Court's inner Circle would be arriving today, and she had little to prepare for the cold welcome they would most likely receive. She hated not being in control, and Rhysand's possible arrival tensed her.

She looked up to see Aleks trailing beside her on the rooftops of the homes, his hair a fire-like beacon. "I'll be watching your back." He had said, not looking for her to deny him, not waiting for her to ask him.

Novali felt warmth in her heart when she saw Aleks looking her way, she'd

Novali nodded faintly, trying to suppress a small smile that threatened to appear at Aleks's constant vigilance. "Thank you," she whispered under her breath, not bothering to disguise the fondness creeping into her tone.

Despite herself, Novali could not ignore the warmth spreading within her heart, it seemed as though everything she felt for Aleks was magnified in those uncertain moments.

Finally, the quaint row houses came into view, the richest parts of the city, Sailas's residence nestled amidst them, bathed in the twilight glow of magical lamps. A few steps away and she could already hear voices echoing within, presumably Kier. Her stomach twisted nervously, but somehow, knowing that Aleks was right behind her helped to steady her nerves somewhat.

Novali masked her nervousness and knocked on the doors of Sailas' house

Sailas, standing at the threshold, eyed Novali warily when she knocked. His gaze drifted towards the empty street beyond her, a clear indication of his suspicion. Nonetheless, he opened the door and gestured for her to come inside.

The moment she stepped foot into the grand foyer, the scent of old magic enveloped her like a suffocating shroud. Sailas closed the door behind her while Kier emerged from one of the many corridors, his sharp gaze scanning every inch of her person.

"You're late," Kier commented without preamble, crossing his arms over his chest in typical fashion.

Novali stayed quite still Sailas placed a hand on her lower back, "Answer him." He demanded.

"I'm sorry. I got held up." Novali replied, her chin dipped in a show of respect, not looking the males in the eye.

Sailas's grip tightened momentarily on her back, his fingers digging slightly into her skin as a silent warning. But his voice remained even, betraying none of the annoyance he must have been feeling. "You should know better than to keep us waiting."

Kier's lips curled into a smirk, clearly amused by her apology. "And why is that? Because we hold your fate in our hands?" he asked rhetorically, taking a step closer to her.

Novali shifted uncomfortably under their combined scrutiny, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. She wished desperately for Aleks's presence, his steadying influence and his quiet strength were sorely needed at that moment.

But there was no sign of him anywhere, and she knew that he was likely keeping watch from afar.

"Yes... Sir." Novali replied, trying to make her voice as pleasant as she could. "I will not be late for tonight."

Both Sailas and Kier seemed to relax ever so slightly upon hearing her promise, but it didn’t take much to notice the underlying severity in their expressions. “Good,” Sailas murmured approvingly.

“Make sure you keep that vow,” Kier chimed in, a hint of sarcasm dripping from each word.

Novali stayed close, doing her best to keep her composure intact despite the simmering rage boiling beneath her calm exterior, rolling her eyes when the males looked away from her. She dreaded what tonight might bring, confrontations, arguments, perhaps even violence. But whatever happened, she couldn’t afford to let any of it get to her. Not here, not now.

Novali sat in a room in Sailas' house, a black dress laid out in front of her, it was quite a scandalous outfit. Novali studied the garment laid out before her, her heart pounding in her chest. It was unlike anything she'd seen before, revealing, provocative. A part of her wanted to reject it outright, but she knew that would only lead to further consequences. So instead, she swallowed hard and reached out hesitantly to touch the fabric.

As she did so, memories flooded back: her mother dressing her up in similar outfits for feasts and gatherings back when life was simpler, how proud her mother had been when people would compliment her daughter's beauty. Suddenly realizing what she was doing, Novali jerked her hand away from the dress as if burned. Tears pricked at her eyes, blurring her vision momentarily as she clenched and unclenched her fists at her sides.

Her mother, the monster of her nightmares, the female who despite her own abuse sold Novali to suffer the same fate the second she bled for the first time. marrying a young 14-year-old to a male as old as Sailas, then turning her back on her after she was forced with child.

Novali's mind swirled with conflicting emotions, torn between past trauma and present dread. Memories of her mother flashed through her mind like images from a disturbing dream - her face contorted in anger or disgust, always looking away from Novali as if ashamed of what she'd done.

But reality snapped her back to attention when she heard Sailas's voice echoing down the hallway outside the room. "Hurry up," he called out impatiently.

With trembling fingers, Novali began to undress, discarding each piece of clothing with increasing speed until she stood naked before the dress. It seemed so foreign against her bare skin – heavy satin clinging to curves meant to please rather than serve. And yet, it also brought back echoes of childhood innocence, moments stolen before her world turned upside down.

In the blink of an eye, Novali's expression hardened into a blank mask, devoid of all emotion. The transformation was almost eerie, one moment she was lost in painful recollections, and the next she was a statue carved from stone.

Slowly, deliberately, she lifted the dress off its perch and slid it onto her body. The fabric clung to her curves like a second skin, accentuating every dip and swell of her form, making an elusion of it, because she had none, no dips or swells, it was the fabric and the wat it clung to her body, cuts on her sides and a deep V down her neck, that made it appear she had. She felt exposed, and vulnerable, but she could never let anyone see it.

With a final tug at the hemline, Novali stood fully clothed once more. There was something about this outfit that made her feel vulnerable, it was something her mother would've praised her for putting on, even if she would tutt at her breasts, pulling at them, commenting how they were too small, but at the same time be proud of the fear-filled look Novali used to wear.

Novali found herself staring back at someone else entirely reflected in the full-length mirror before her. The dress hugged her curves tightly, drawing attention to areas that had previously been hidden under layers of modest clothing. Its plunging neckline revealed far more cleavage than she was accustomed to showing, while the skirt flared out around her hips before tapering down to just above her knees.

Her eyes went to the high heels that were for her, being her size, as she went to put the heels on, Sailas barged in the room, a maid beside him, "Ugh, could you make that dress any less flattering?" He taunted Novali, "Do your best you can with her," He motioned at her for the maid

Novali's heart skipped a beat when Sailas suddenly appeared in the doorway, his harsh words cutting through her thoughts like a knife. She bit back the instinctive retort rising in her throat, knowing better than to antagonize him. Instead, she held his gaze steadily, refusing to allow him the satisfaction of seeing her flinch.

Her hands hovered over the high-heeled shoes sitting neatly on the floor, their reflective surfaces reflecting back the chaos swirling within her. But she couldn't afford to show weakness, not now, not when Sailas was watching her so closely. She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and then bent down to slip on the uncomfortable footwear.

The maid standing obediently beside Sailas stepped forward, her eyes darting nervously between both figures.

Novali sat down on the chair of the vanity in her room was the maid began her work, lathering Novali up with make-up, on Sailas' command, going as far as putting some on her exposed chest to give the illusion of a heavy cleavage as Novali stayed as still as a lifeless doll.

Novali walked with Salias, in the depths of the throne room in Hewn City, a place she'd never been before.

Sailas led Novali through the grand halls of Hewn City, their steps echoing eerily in the vast expanse of the throne room. Despite its impressive size and opulent décor, Novali couldn't shake the feeling of unease that clung to her like a second skin. She glanced around nervously, taking in the towering pillars adorned with intricate carvings and the massive chandelier that hung ominously overhead, casting long shadows that danced with every flicker of light, giant statues of beasts on the pillars.

Her gaze was drawn to the dais at the far end of the chamber where the throne sat empty, a stark reminder of the power dynamics at play. The realization sent a shiver down her spine, causing her to look for Aleks' presence.

Her eyes widened seeing Cahira in the dark, she shouldn't be here, the thought ran through Novali's mind but Cahira gave her a simple nod, she was her back.

Novali's heart pounded in her chest as she noticed Cahira standing in the shadows near the entrance of the throne room. Her eyes met those of her friend, and for a brief moment, she allowed herself to believe that everything would be alright. But then Cahira gave her a simple nod, acknowledging her presence without breaking character, and returned to blending into the darkness.

Novali's stomach twisted uncomfortably at the sight, a wave of guilt washing over her. Here she was, dressed up like a doll for Sailas's amusement, while Cahira risked her life to help her. It was a stark reminder of the precarious position she found herself in and the sacrifices others were willing to make for her sake. But then she forced herself to remember Cahira didn't like being treated with delicate hands, she was capable of staying some time outside of her comfort, all she hoped for was that Kier didn't see the girl.

As uncomfortable as it was, Novali forced herself to focus on her role. Cahira didn’t need her worry clouding her judgement. She had a mission to complete, and Novali needed to trust that she would succeed.

She took a deep breath, steadying herself as much as possible, reminding herself that she wasn't just doing this for herself anymore, but for everyone. The thought provided a measure of solace amidst the chaos swirling within her. She held her head high, walking tall despite the anxiety coursing through her veins.

As they continued through the throne room, Novali began to notice more and more people gathering, their gazes turning towards her as Sailas led her through the crowd. She could feel their eyes on her, appraising her like a piece of meat at market, and it only served to fuel the fire of indignation burning within her. She clenched her fists at her sides, forcing herself to keep her composure despite the rising tide of anger threatening to spill over.

They reached the center of the throne room, where Sailas stopped and turned to address the gathered crowd. His voice rang out clearly, commanding attention and respect. Novali remained silent, standing dutifully at his side as he announced their engagement to the room full of nobles and courtiers.

"The scume that call themselves are rulers are coming tonight, let's show them they can't take back our city after a century of abandoning us!" His voice roared, and Kier also joined in rallying up the Court of Nightmares. The worst of the worst was easy to describe it, especially when they killed the kind ones, the innocent ones to show what would happen to those who went against them. Anyone who spoke up ended up in the dungeons that the spymaster hadn't visited in years.

Novalie only hoped Cahira didn't die tonight as she found her in the dark again, hoping she'd stay hidden.

{General - @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot}

{Meeting in Grey - @sleepylunarwolf @achaotichuman @sarawritestories @bakananya @sheblogs @anuttellaa}

[vikwrites]

Money, Money, Money - Tony Stark

CHAPTER 1 Summary ➣ Starting off as simple, transactional love during the height of Tony’s alcoholism, devolves into something real. Pairing ➣ Tony Stark x Reader Word Count ➣ 1.2k words Warnings ➣ Slow Burn, Power Imbalance, Enemies to Lovers, Large age gap, Mildly Pretentious Narrator. Author's Notes ➣  The first, full-fledged Tony Stark series, so excited for this! I've always wanted to write a Materialistic!Reader so here it is! Happy readings <3

On the 86th floor of Stark Tower, atop a mini-bar, sat a delicate glass of Vodka Martini, 3 fluid-ounce Yamazaki, 1 fluid-ounce dry vermouth, with 3 small olives minutely pierced onto a thin gold-plated skewer. 

The thin stem of the crystal glass was passed to your gauzy, manicured fingers, in exchange for a crisp stack of ten dollar bills surrendered to the bartender, you didn’t bother to count. 

The plump skewer of olives swirled freely in your nearly full martini; minute drops threatened to spill over the edge of its fine rim. Luckily, you had caught the droplets before they had been discarded onto the carpeted floor.

Figures adorned in hues of gold and silver flitted about the lavish parlor, each mirrored the twinkling lights of the Manhattan skyline outside in their respective shimmering gowns, each one more expensive than the last. 

The atmosphere was lively, yet the main attraction has yet to arrive. You had heard mentions of the infamous Stark around; his name carried a certain mystique, spoken under hushed whispers amongst the attendees. You had never really met him face-to-face, considering he was the CEO of the company, but your position at Stark Industries held up a pretty good reputation, earning you enough, and granting you an invite to the party.

“Do you think he’s seeing anyone?” You picked up on the conversation between a few women sitting next to you on the barstools. The woman in question, doused in the overwhelming scent of Chanel No. 5, was dressed in a form-fitting Valentino dress. Her voice carried through the air with a thick New-Yorkean accent, a bleak resemblance to her flashy, ostentatious appearance. 

“Quit it, stop trying to get into Stark’s pants. You never will.” The blonde next to you responded, patting the other on the shoulder playfully. You caught a glimpse of her manicured nails, adorned with a glossy velvet finish in a similar fashion to your own. However, unlike yours—which were neatly trimmed, the cuticles of her nails were a bit messy. A detail that wouldn't normally matter, but for some reason stood out to you in that moment.

Is she wearing a Cartier bracelet? Your jaw clenched at the sight of her bracelet, sparkling with diamonds and catching the light in a way that made your own bracelet pale in comparison, it was obviously more expensive than yours. The fact alone pissed you off. 

The room was filled with a swarm of pretentious individuals, each one flaunting their wealth and superiority. It was suffocating, being surrounded by so many egotistical assholes with their holier-than-thou attitudes. They may have money, but it didn't make them any less shallow or arrogant. You had this sixth-sense of being able to tell how much of an asshole specifically by what adorned their money-laced wrists—whether or not they wore a Patek Phillipe or a Jaeger was enough insight into their entire persona. 

“I’ve got a better chance than you at least, Stark would love me!” The first woman's voice snapped like a taut wire, dripping with disdain. Her eyes narrowed and glinted with malice as she shot dirty looks at the others, her loathing almost palpable.

Holier-than-thou attitude, as you had said.

You thought their behavior immature, not wanting to pay attention anymore to such infantile arguments. Fighting over some uber-rich billionaire who could give less of a shit who you are after you had warmed his bed for a single night? 

Pfft, fuck no, you were just here for the cocktails.

You brought the crystal glass to your lips, and took your first sip. The alcohol burnt as it cascaded down your throat, leaving your mouth with a spicy aftertaste, you could never really get used to a Martini. 

A part of you was contemplating asking for more, but the sensible side knew that ending up slobbering drunk at a party and waking up at the ungodly hour of 2pm with missing jewelry and a killer hangover was not exactly your idea of a good time.

The smooth sip of your drink is abruptly halted by the sharp sound of glass shattering, followed by the shrill voices of the ladies engaged in a vicious argument. Their heated words and swinging arms in-turn send glasses crashing to the ground, littering the once-pristine carpet with sparkling shards of broken glass. 

“Did you just call me a bitch?” The blonde's voice rose to a screeching crescendo as she yelled, her face flushed with anger. With a loud thud, she slammed her purse onto the table.

“Yeah, I did—bitch!” Another responded, her voice a bit more high pitched than the other, yet still carrying the same sanctimonious attitude, standing up and facing her with a smug smirk on their face. 

“Now, ladies. Must we really be resorting to calling each other names?” A voice echoed from atop the stairwell. The women’s dispute had been abruptly quelled, the whole room seemed silenced, and all eyes seemed to be glued onto the figure.

There stood Tony Stark, dressed in a perfectly-styled, deep-burgundy suit, no doubt Tom Ford, the barchetta pocket gave it away. His hair was styled in his signature quiff, slicked back to a T. And of course, he topped off the ensemble with a pair of red sunglasses, which you’d always found amusing since he'd wear them indoors. 

“Welcome, everybody. I would introduce myself, but it seems that you know who I am.” Each step he takes down the glass staircase, each time his Louboutin boots hit the glass stairs, resulted in a loud, echoed clap, which resonated across the room. “I’d personally like to thank all of you for attending. As you know, it happens to be my anniversaire today, so I thought to myself, why not throw a party?”

"What's with all the staring, is my suit on backwards?" Tony joked, his eyes scanning the room as he flashed his signature smirk. You knew, however, he thrived on attention, as if it were fuel for his larger-than-life persona. Flamboyant was practically his middle name; Tony Flamboyant Stark does have a nice ring to it, you chuckled.

"Jarvis," Tony’s voice carried a hint of excitement as he spoke to his AI, "let's crank up the music and get this party started." The monotone response did as so. 

After Tony made his grandeur entrance, you retreated to your lone seat at the bar, grateful for the temporary escape from the chaos. The previously bickering women had vanished, leaving a few neighboring barstools conveniently open for your solitude. You took a deep breath and savored the cool air conditioning and the soft murmur of conversation floating around you.

But just when you thought you had some peace and quiet, you heard the shuffling of a chair being pulled out next to you. Expecting one of the argumentative ladies to return, you turned to find Tony  Stark himself settling into the seat beside you, nonchalantly pulling out his wallet and fishing out a few bills.

"So, could I buy you a drink?" 

⎊ back to masterlist

[crimsonvictory]

Dance Partner

MINORS DNI

Word Count:

Tags: simon riley x reader, ghost x reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, CONSENT IS IMPORTANT, jealous!Ghost

Notes: just been thinking of you dancing in a crowded club and Ghost getting jealous of all of the attention you’re getting :’)

The shrouding darkness of the closet you were currently occupying was becoming stifling. The warmth from both of your bodies was radiating out and upwards, causing sweat to form at the base of your temple. Your breath comes out in short pants, panic starts to set in. You squeeze your eyes tight, trying to control your breathing. Simon is as calm as ever – still as a damn gargoyle as he keeps an ear close to the slatted door. Shadows of absentminded people move back and forth, muffled voices of the ongoing party outside.

Your hands are balled into fists at your sides, squeezing imprints of crescents into your palms. A hot flash of irritation prickles at your skin, making your silk dress stick to you in an almost suffocating manner. Time seemed to slow, dragging each second out to the point of almost madness. Being stuck within this small space, especially next to Simon, was the last thing that you had expected. The night was going smoothly, everyone playing their respective roles – until your Lieutenant decided it was best for the house of cards to crumble.

The green-eyed monster made his appearance rather early in the night. Rearing his ugly head whenever someone sauntered within your small bubble. You had managed to keep ignorant of its’ existence for the better part of the evening, distracting yourself with many sparkling flutes of champagne and dancing with any available partner out on the floor. Johnny being your latest victim. You feel his large hand rest lowly on your waist, pulling you close to his body as the both of you sway to the pulsating music. It’s extremely loud out on the floor, music vibrating your sternum. Johnny flashes an intoxicated grin your way, yelling something over the thumping bass.

“What?” you yell, trying to read his lips with a laugh.

He yanks you closer, tilting his head down and cupping a hand over your ear to try and direct the conversation.

“We’ve got an audience,” he all but shouts, alcohol making his accent so thick it’s almost unintelligible.

Johnny’s words are followed by a fit of drunken laughter. You grin mischievously, the previous partaking of alcohol giving you a confidence boost. That is, until you lock eyes with your audience, noticing the utter rage burning within the irises. He’s been watching you for quite a while. A familiar set of eyes, but for some reason your synapses aren’t firing right – can’t put your finger on who they belong to. It’s hard to make him out, he’s somewhat lurking in the shadows and the alcohol has made your thoughts clouded. You swallow, looking away sheepishly and back at Johnny. The awkwardness dies away for a moment, swallowed up by comfort as your friend pulls you close again, rolling your bodies fluidly together as the music slows to something more sensual. You pant softly at the change of pace, finally able to catch your breath. The sea of bodies creates a wave of heat. Skin slick with sweat, pools at your lower back. You let your eyes flutter closed, enjoying the change of pace and following Johnny’s lead. The two of you needed this. Hell, the whole force did. That’s why everyone came out once a month, to blow off steam and relieve the very much built-up stress that stored itself on everyone’s shoulders.

Johnny was your best pal. Platonic soulmate you called him. He had been your day one ever since you joined the 141. Instantaneously matched and really was one of the only bastards you could stand to be around. You couldn’t have wanted a better partner. Others joked about your closeness, the relentless flirting between the two of you, but both of your feelings were mutual – platonic and planned on staying that way.

Your senses bristle at a change of environment. Eyes fluttering open, you notice that your audience has disappeared. You scan the floor, looking into the dark corners and coming up with nothing. Focusing back on Johnny, you flash him another grin, in an attempt to hide your nervousness. Where did he go?

“Audience is gone now,” you fake pout.

You watch his face change, apprehension sobering him up. Hesitance floods his irises.

“Don’t think so, Lass,” he mutters, eyes fixed behind you.

You turn your head at his words, watching the dancing sea of bodies part as your audience makes their way over to the two of you. A whole foot taller than most of the people there, rigid in a state of constant motion. Your mouth goes dry, eyes unblinking as a large hand circles around your waist, yanking you from Johnny’s grasp. Stumbling backward, you fall unwillingly into a solid wall of black.

“Hey!” you huff, placing your small hands over a somewhat familiar beefy tattooed forearm and trying to pry his bruising grip from around your waist.

You try to turn in his grasp, looking at Johnny for some assistance. He steps forward, only to stop in his tracks by the look he gets. You watch him swallow and avert his eyes, mumbling out something you can’t hear over the roaring music.

That’s the last you see of him as you are enveloped in the moving sea again. You struggle, huffing as your foggy state of mind leaves you pretty much helpless. Pulse rushing to your ears, you feel yourself start to panic, breath coming out in short pants as you cannot see where you are going. You faintly hear the opening of a door and then are lost in the darkness as you are roughly shoved inside. Reaching out blindly, you feel for a wall and slide down to the floor, the cool wallpaper relieving the overheating of your skin.

It's only then that your alcohol-fueled brain realizes who has snagged you from your night of fun.

“Simon, let me out of this closet right now,” you huffed, keeping your voice as low as possible.

Absolute radio silence.

You shift, trying to reach for the doorknob but his large hand reaches out and stops your attempt.

“What is your fucking problem?” you hiss.

He turns sharply to face you. It’s hard to see him due to the low lighting. You can barely make out his face, the amber lighting from the hallway trickles in through the slatting of the door.

“You,” he hisses right back, venom laced on his tongue.

Your lip pulls up in a snarl, irritation flashing hot down your neck.

“What are you fucking jealous?” you pant out, trying your best to look in his direction.

Simon suddenly crowds your space, masked face appearing right in front of your nose. You gasp softly, the sudden appearance taking you by surprise. Your anger fades quickly, slowly being replaced by something else. The light filters in from the other room, illuminating how dilated his pupils are.

“Careful, bunny,” he warns lowly.

“Admit it,” you press. “You don’t like me dancing with Johnny.”

You watch the mask contort as his jaw clenches. A funny gesture, something you see quite often when working together. Simon’s fist slams beside your head and you flinch, deftly moving your head to the side. You try not to let it intimidate you. He’s crouched on his knees and still towering over you. Your breath catches in your throat and you keep your eyes on him – silence near deafening. A sly smile pulls your upper lip up and a laugh escapes you. It only makes him angrier.

“You’re so fucking dense,” you laugh. “Johnny’s platonic.”

“I don’t like the way he looks at you,” he growls softly, irritation lacing his voice again.

The green-eyed monster makes an appearance again. You play into his game, knowing you have him wrapped around your finger.

“You’re always getting yourself into matters that don’t concern you,” you tell him calmly.

You make a risky move, resting your hand on his bicep, and giving it a light squeeze. His eyes are unblinking, flicking down to wear your hand is resting. He’s got the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up, exposing the splattering of black ink crawling up his forearms. You and Johnny have had many conversations (mostly drunken ones) about the tattoos you were currently looking at. Breathing through your nose, you let your eyes close, thumping your head against the wall in frustration. The current situation befuddling. Your alcoholic buzz slows to molten honey in your veins.

You try your best to avoid the drunken thoughts rapidly appearing in your head. Try your best to avoid the fact that Simon is less than a foot away from you and has you locked in a dark closet. Try your best to avoid the fact that he is on his goddamn knees right now. You can smell a faint hint of whiskey (bourbon?) on his breath. You suck your bottom lip in between your teeth, letting it go with a soft “pop” as you speak again.

“Simon.”

He’s silent, the only notion of him still within your reach is the legato rise and fall of his shoulders. You had no idea of his plans, never sharing a flirtatious encounter with him before. Most of your interactions with him were brief. Racking your currently lagging brain, you come up emptyhanded with any exchanges that prompted his behavior this evening. Both are too busy and too closed off to have anything romantic. That’s why you liked your relationship with Johnny, being able to play pretend and not having to be emotionally involved. You knew nothing of Simon, except for now, you knew he had a horrible bout of jealousy.

You squirm uncomfortably, trying to pry yourself away from his unrelenting gaze. Your body betrays you, arousal pooling confusedly in your abdomen. His hand unfurls itself, brushing your hair away from your damp neck. Your breathing picks up again, soft pants falling from your lips as your heart rate peaks. You squeeze his arm again.

“Let me out,” you plead.

A soft tsk falls from his lips, breath fanning your face. You’re starting to lose the grasp on your control, being in his presence is starting to get to you. You hear a soft rustle of fabric – the shaking of his head. Can’t tell if he’s shaking no at you or something else.

“Can’t be pleading like that, bunny,” he coos softly, voice deepening.

“Don’t call me that,” you huff, squirming against him again.

Forced proximity has you nearly in his lap. He sneaks his left hand out quickly, wrapping it around your lower back and pulling you against him. The angle he’s holding you forces your right arm to loop around his broad shoulders.

“Wanna dance?” he quips.

You can hear the smirk in his voice. The question takes you by surprise, brows furrowing upwards. He rolls his hips towards your own, causing you to yelp softly. It jostles your position, causing your thighs to cushion themselves snugly around his broad ones. A soft rustling and you feel his breath near your ear.

“Saw how you danced with Johnny,” he rasps, voice thin with wavering restraint. “Show me how you roll those hips of yours.”

Your eyes roll back at that, a soft whimper bubbling up your throat. His hand that isn’t on your waist slides up your back and rests at the nape of your neck. Simon cards his thick fingers through the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling your back into a small arch.

“Don’t be shy now,” he huffs, smirk apparent now by how fucking giddy he sounds.

Your skin is buzzing with excitement (nervousness?). Taking a deep breath, you listen to the faint rhythm of the thumping bass outside. Slowly starting to gyrate your hips to the music, you let yourself relax against him. You don’t want to give him everything just yet – not wanting to relinquish all of your control. Keeping your hips just inches above his own, the silk of your dress bunches up around your thighs, exposing the lacy underwear you wore this evening. A blush burns into your skin and down your neck. You thank the Gods that it’s nearly dark in here – easier to hide your embarrassment.

“Not shy,” you huff out, irritation still lingering from your current situation. “You’re the shy one. Got me locked up in this dark closet all for your own pleasure.”

You dip your hips down at that, relishing in the fact that you take his breath away – even if it just is for a moment. His arousal is present, tenting against the zipper of his black dress pants. His hand slides from your back to the fat of your hip, his bruising grip possessive.

“That’s right,” he gasps hotly. “All for me.”

You slide your hand down his broad bicep, mirroring the grip he has on your hip. Arousal licks at your spine as you dip your hips down again, dragging them for a moment longer over his own. Simon moans, surprisingly loud for where the both of you are. You realize you cannot be heard over the thumping of the club music. Both of you are in your little bubble of pleasure. A familiar heat pools at the apex of your thighs.

As much as you don’t want to admit it, his words affect you. Your heart’s racing, mind trying to keep up with what’s happening right this very second. A small laugh falls from your lips, incredulous.

“Somethin’ funny?” he asks, voice surprisingly calm.

You hum, tilting your head up and repositioning yourself. Your full weight resting on his broad thighs. Blood rushes back down, settling from your previous position. You feel him still, calculating your next move in the inky room.

“Somethin’ got you nervous?” you question.

You reach up, tugging him close by his mask. A soft gasp falls from his lips, surprised by your sudden change of action. His breath puffs softly against your wrist, hot pants making your skin damp. Simon squeezes your hip again, a silent warning to not push it any further. You oblige, leaning in close to mouth at his clothed ear.

“Can’t read your mind, Simon,” you coo in a sing-song tone.

He laughs then – a pretty noise. Something you don’t hear very often. He’s smiling, you can hear the way his mask contorts. You wonder how he looks under the mask. Handsome, no doubt.

“Could say the same for you, lovie,” he croaks softly.

Simon shifts, hard length deliciously bumping against your folds. It has your thighs squeezing together. You feel him shudder against you, repeating his motion yet again.

“Simon-,” you whine.

He hums, a comforting noise as he takes his hands away from your body, leaving you essentially floating in the darkness. It has your senses on high alert, trying to piece together what he’s doing. You lean forward, ears working overtime to listen. A soft rustling of fabric and then you feel his soft breath on your cheek. But this time, it feels different – cooler. Almost as if –

The mask is gone.

You feel yourself clench around nothing, mouth watering at the thought of being able to kiss him.

“Did you-?” you ask incredulously.

“Shhh -,” he hushes, lips brushing against the side of your neck.

His tongue darts out, causing goosebumps to erupt hurriedly over your body. Simon’s lips are surprisingly soft, pressing kisses into your damp skin. He makes his way up your neck, mapping the route to memory. A soft nip to your jaw has a soft whine leaving your lips. You feel a smile against your skin. Motherfucker.

Slowly, agonizingly, he finally reaches your lips. He’s hesitant, almost teasing as he barely brushes his own against yours. You test the waters, darting your tongue out to swipe against his bottom lip. A soft rumble fills the barrel of his chest, vibrating against your own.

The soft rise and fall of your bodies synchronize, the rhythm comforting as you explore within the dark. You slowly slide your hand up his neck, pausing when his breath catches. Blood rushes to your ears, embarrassment creeping hotly up your neck.

“Overstepped?” you ask, lips brushing against his.

He barely shakes his head. Almost - uncertain.

“Simon,” you huff softly. “Use your words.”

“Never,” He surges forward, kissing you hotly on the mouth.

With a clash of teeth and tongue, he slides his hands down your sides, squeezing your hips. He’s in control now, guiding yours to start rolling against his clothed cock again. You whine softly, the silk of your panties becoming soaked with the friction.

It’s hard to focus with the building pleasure flooding your thighs, but you slide both hands up the sides of Simon’s neck, attempting to map out the outline of his face. A mystery to nearly everyone in the 141, you were curious to piece him together. Your fingers flutter over the scarred skin - years of injury and close brushes with death.

He has a strong jawline, you feel a small tic when your fingers brush along the bone. You soothe him with kisses, nibbling on his bottom lip. A hairline scar splits his upper lip, traveling upwards to the bottom of his nose. His nose is crooked, broken at least twice, you think. A smile appears on your lips, he feels - human. Your fingers slide up and into his hair. It’s longer than you imagined, thick but super soft to the touch. You give it a soft tug, reveling in the soft moans that fall from Simon’s lips.

“Pretty,” you pant out.

“Hm?” he questions.

“You’re pretty, Simon.”

He stills at that, hips stuttering upwards involuntarily.

“You like being praised?” you joke halfheartedly, a laugh bubbling up on your lips.

He grunts you feel a crooked grin plaster itself on his face as he rolls his hips rather harshly upwards against your own.

“Love anything that comes out of your mouth, bunny,” he confesses, voice thick with lust.

You moan softly at that, sliding your hands down to his broad shoulders and squeezing. Your panties are soaked, sticking to your folds. His lips find your own again, licking inside your mouth and exploring. He tastes like chamomile and cigarettes. Soft sounds keep falling from his mouth. Little hums and sighs of contentment.

Simon’s hand slides down your thighs, brushing against the delicate skin there. You feel goosebumps rise, shivering in delight. He leans down, snuggling in the crook of your neck as he asks,

“You wet for me, lovie?”

You nod, shifting your hips up in an attempt to get his fingers closer to your cunt. The bridge of his nose bumps against your collarbone and he brushes his fingers over your panties. You feel anticipation building in your stomach - a wretched thing - butterflies of anxiousness making it flutter.

“Please,” you beg breathlessly. “I’m so wet, Simon.”

The pad of Simon’s middle finger brushes against your clit as he pulls your panties to the side. The cool air hits the slick pooling in your folds and you shiver. He brings his middle and ring fingers to his lips, pushing them inside and swirling his tongue around the pads to make them wet. Simon shifts slightly, hips jutting upwards and then back down into their original position. Then angling your hips up and sliding his fingers through your folds.

A moan of yours floats throughout the closet, the feeling of his fingers relieving the built-up tension between the two of you. Simon slides his fingers up and down a few times, collecting your slick before pushing his thick fingers inside. You gasp, inhaling sharply as he thrusts his fingers in and out. A low whistle from Simon, left hand a vice on your hip.

“Tight little thing,” he expresses out loud, almost in awe.

You arch up into his touch, wanting to take his fingers deeper inside. Sweat pooling at your lower back and thighs at the position you’re holding yourself in. Your thighs begin to shake with exertion. Simon’s fingers stretch you open, brushing against a spongey spot deep inside. It has you seeing stars.

“O-Oh!” you gasp, eyes rolling back into your head.

“There we go,” he coos, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder.

You’re squirming in his lap, pleasure building rapidly in your abdomen. Slick absolutely drenching his fingers, the sound filling the small closet. You feel your cheeks heat as the pleasure bubble pops, pulling a loud moan from your chest as you hit your climax. Simon’s fingers still thrusting deep inside. He never changes his pace, continuing to fuck you as you come down from your high.

Soft whines fall from your lips as your hips slowly still as you try and catch your breath. Your shoulders brush against the cool wall, one strap from your dress resting against your upper arm. It’s hot in the small room. Especially sharing with another body. Simon’s fingers brush your lips. You can smell your arousal on them.

“Have-a taste,” he says.

You slowly wrap your lips around the pads of his fingers, sucking them clean before letting them go with a “pop”. Your arousal is sweet, with a slight tang. Something you weren’t expecting. Another thing you’re not expecting is Simon shifting again, pulling you close to his body as he stands up.

You yelp, wrapping your legs around his waist instinctively. The cool buckle of his belt burning into your thigh. He walks forward until your back hits the cool wall, relieving your heated skin. Simon kisses you again, slower this time. Takes his time to taste you and the leftover arousal from just moments before. You feel his fingers tangle themselves in your hair, tugging gently.

“Taste heavenly,” he praises, deep voice sending a sharp sting of arousal straight to your cunt.

His large hands begin to roam your body, pulling and manipulating your dress to get most of your skin available to his touch. The hem of your dress is pushed up and over your hips, leaving the bottom half of you exposed. You feel the head of his cock bump against you, straining within his pants. He keeps you up with one hand, using the other to free his cock. You feel it spring up and against his stomach.

Simon’s hand wraps around his length, stroking upwards a few times before tapping the head of his cock against your folds. He’s burning hot, the tip slick with precome. You squeeze him closer with your hips, trying to angle the head to your hole by rocking your hips against his.

You’re desperate and don’t even feel embarrassed about it. Alcohol and one orgasm racing through your bloodstream. You feel invincible - high stakes of your secret endeavor pushing your limits. You create your rhythm on his hard thigh, pressure feeling incredible against your pussy. Throwing your head back, it hits the wall with a soft thud. Moans wantonly falling from your pretty lips.

“Gonna get yourself off like this?” he pants against your temple, having to squint in the darkness to see the outline of your body.

His left-hand squeezes a handful of your ass, urging you to reach your climax. The other slides up to your breast, tweaking the hard bud through the silky fabric. Your thighs begin to shake, pleasure ripping down your back and pooling at your core as you tip over the edge. It’s lightning hot - sweat pooling on your brow as you glide your sopping underwear over his thigh over and over again.

“S-Simon,” you cry out, big tears falling down your face and pooling on your chin.

Simon shushes you, gently wiping them away and placing soft kisses to your cheeks.

“So good. So good for me bunny,” he croaks, voice wavering. “Give me one more.”

You cry at the thought of trying again. Body spent and shaking against his big frame.

“I can’t-“ you whine, trying to push him away.

“Relax,” he coos, sliding your ruined underwear to the side and slowly pushing inside your warm heat.

You tense up, the girth of him stretching your walls thin.

“Fuck,” you both groan out in unison.

He’s fucking huge and knows it. Simon goes slow though, aware of his large size compared to you. He’s gentle, doing all the work as you slump against his chest, babbling almost nonsense. The angle you’re currently at has tears pricking in the corners of your eyes. You feel so fucking full.

Simon’s murmuring soft praises against your skin. He slowly pulls back out before snapping his hips back against your own. Involuntarily noises bubble up and out of your lips, soft “ohs” and moans sounding like music to his ears. With the wall supporting your upper back, Simon angles your hips more towards his own, targeting that same spongey spot from before.

The mushroom tip of his velvety cock brushes deliciously against your walls, causing you to clench down around him. Of course, he would be fucking exceptional at this. Your body is pliant against his own - allowing him to do whatever he pleases. You’re along for the ride, gasping against his neck.

“Fuck Simon,” you pant against his damp skin. “Feel so fucking g-ood.”

His thrusts falter, a hoarse moan falling from his lips.

“Don’t fucking do that,” he huffs, thrusting quickly up into your cunt. “I won’t last…”

You clench around his length, murmuring praises into his skin. You revel in the fact that your words have him coming apart. He’s close - you can tell by the way his thrusts are erratic.

“Please,” you beg. “Come for me, Simon.”

His hips stutter again, his grip on your own like a vice as he huffs a laugh. “Don’t fucking start- not fair.”

You thrust your hips down to meet his own, clenching on each downward roll that has you practically mewling. Your lips press against his neck - and then you get an idea. A smile forms on your lips as you kiss up his neck, making your way up to his ear. Last chance, you murmur in his ear again.

“Come for me pretty boy,” teeth nipping at his earlobe.

His hips snap upwards then, stilling as he shouts hoarsely. You feel the warm spill of his cum painting your walls and whine at the feeling of being so full.

“Fucking cheater,” he huffs, panting against your sweaty skin.

You feel him smiling. Your orgasm is still burning, pending at the small of your back. He’s still hard, resting inside as you start to squirm again.

“Not enough for you bunny?” he coos, almost condescendingly.

You pout, forgetting he can’t see you. He taps the side of your face, getting your attention.

“Words,” he copies from you earlier.

“No,” you whine pathetically, cheeks burning with shame.

He laughs then, a melodic sound as he pulls out, leaving you feeling so empty. Your cunt clenches on nothing, a soft whine escaping. He sets you down on the floor, wobbly legs attempting to keep you standing. Simon next does something that you weren’t prepared for.

Drops to his knees and starts lapping at your cunt like a man starved. He’s got one of your legs hooked over his shoulder, right hand placed under the meat of your left thigh. A strangled moan leaves your lips and you curl your fingers into his hair, pulling him impossibly close. His expert tongue has you trembling in no time, lewd sounds of him messily eating you out has your blood boiling.

“F-Fuck,” you warn, grinding your pussy onto his chin.

He’s fucking grinning, enjoying every second of this. Simon’s thick fingers slide into your cunt again, thrusting forwards and sealing the deal. Your third orgasm of the night has your thighs squeezing his face, trembling from overexertion. A hot gasp brushes against your folds and you feel Simon rocking into his own hand. The image has your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“Oh my fucking god,” you moan out, absolutely exhausted.

“Did good, bunny,” he praises, pressing a kiss into your inner thigh.

You’re panting, absolutely spent as you slide down the wall and into his lap again. He holds you close to his body, letting you reset. Absolutely ruined, there’s no way you can go back out on the dance floor, legs too wobbly to hold you up. You laugh, a high-reedy sound, as the events that unfolded catch up with your foggy brain. Blood roaring in your ears, drowning out the sound of the music outside.

Simon’s fingers squeeze your hips lovingly, petting the silk of your dress. It’s calming, and soon, your breaths match his own, content and relaxed. He speaks then, a rumbling voice muffled by your ear against his chest.

“I’d say I’m a pretty good dance partner.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you laugh, hitting his chest lightly.

[theamberplumbob]

~ Prologue ~

Life had always been hard for Ellery Loriel and Kieran Cyrus. Spellcasters born in the wake of the vortex that pulled the magical realm apart, they were raised in small, isolated fractions of their ruined homeland.

While the center of their realm was preserved by the Three Sages putting aside their differences and working together to keep what little remains of the magical realm intact, their respective families remained isolated, out in the void. So stuck in their bigoted ways that they’d rather remain alone then coexist with spellcasters that were different from them.

Ellery’s family came from an ancient line of spellcasters deeply devoted to the ways of Practical Magic. They were traditionalists through and through. They were sickened by the Practical Sage’s decision to join forces with the other schools of magic, and cut all ties to other spellcasters.

Ellery was raised in their lonely corner of the void, roaming around the few, lush islands that comprised what remained of their family’s land. Food was hard to come by, and being pulled into the void was an ever present threat, but they relied upon their magic to provide them nourishment and keep them safe.

Ellery felt suffocated, both by the very small world she was confined to, and the hours upon hours of rigorous training she was subjected to. She was always told what to wear, what to say, how to act, and what to think. She couldn’t stand it.

Her only reprieve was sneaking out at night on her mother’s broom to explore the other outer islands. That is where she met Kieran.

Kieran also belonged to an ancient family of spellcasters. They too were highly traditional, and refused to accept the idea of co-existing with the other schools of magic. The difference being that his family followed the Mischief School of Magic, although a very ancient, very dour sect of the practice, very different than the one most go by today.

Their land remained mostly intact, and was quite expansive, providing all the resources they needed to live comfortably. However, his family was comprised of cruel, self-interested people, who had become bored of life in isolation and decided to take it out on each other. Their actions went far beyond pranks, and it often drove Kieran to running off into the void, often for several days at a time. When he’d come back they’d simply accuse him of being too sensitive.

It was on one of these many trips Kieran took into the void that he met Ellery. She may have been from a rival family, but unlike his own, she was kind. The two soon found that they had very much in common, both free spirited dreamers who longed for something more than what their family had settled for. They were also both very, very lonely. The two became friends, escaping their respective homes to visit each other in secret.

Kieran had a very playful attitude, however, he was much fonder of comedy than mischief. Having grown up in such a strict, serious household, Kieran made Ellery laugh like no one else. Ellery was thoughtful and kind, and also an incredibly powerful spellcaster. She was so unlike the people he’d been raised around. He could be vulnerable around her in a way he never could be before. Soon, their excursions to see each other turned into trysts, as the two fell in love.

Sick of their home lives and only living for when they got to see each other, the two decided to run away together. Sick of the magical realm altogether, the two decided to escape to the human world, where there was more land than they could ever roam and more people than they could possibly meet, not to mention it was far, far away from their families. In her seemingly endless training, Ellery had grown powerful, and had learned an incredibly ancient and complex spell. It could give them shelter, food, and a means to provide for themselves, anywhere of their choosing.

They had to make sure that their family’s could never find them. While the alleged only way out of the realm was the portal located in front of Magical Headquarters, Ellery had learned through her studies of an ancient temple built in the human world worshipping the nature gods via practical magic. The temple was built on a magical lay line, and it was said that Druids were able to summon magic, and even magical entities, from the portal into the human world. If they could find a way to escape through there, they’d be untraceable.

It took months of researching and honing their skill in order to figure out how to open the portal. In that time they learned about the place they’d be thrown into. By scrying on the location they found that they’d end up in the little town of Henford on Bagley. It was a charming village surrounded by vast fields and greenery the likes of which neither of them had ever seen. They could live there peacefully in that quiet little community, surrounded by nature. It was like a dream. It was perfect. Their resolve had only hardened.

The time had finally come. With nothing but the clothes on their back, the two left their respective homes for the final time. The two pooled their magic together and were able to open the portal to the temple from the inside, and just like that, the two young spellcasters were thrust into the human world.

[bulletproofscales]

august heat day 4 - dynamics (2seok-kook)

honestly more of a drabble situation happening but i liked this one a LOT! (╯✧▽✧)╯  not everything has ot have a plot ! specially if im meant to pump these out once a day .(￣▽￣*)ゞ  enjoy this horny stream of thoughts. 

tags: established married 2seok , omega x omega , omega seokjin , omega hoseok , work couple , alpha jungkook , recepcionist jungkook , weight gain , unconsious gain , oblivious gain , chubby jungkook

1.2k

Hoseok and Seokjin knew omega and omega relationships aren’t easy. 

Not so much because of hormones, or the heats. Like most people like to assume. 

The stigma was quite tiring, though. 

So many alphas, convinced they’re the ones to make the married couple knotcrazy. That they’d be able to score two omegas. Hoseok can’t hide his disgust and Seokjin can’t contain his laughter as smug alphas make their way to them whenever they go. It's humiliating enough to make anyone flee. 

But… The looks they both exchange shows they’re thinking the same thing. 

This one is different. 

Big, puppy eyes. A tone that's too sweet to be an alpha. But it's obvious, the way his shoulders stretch his poor button up shirt, chest stretching the poor buttons a bit. And scent musky enough to seep through the office. 

“Introduce yourself.” Their boss instructs the alpha. 

“Hi everyone, I’m Jeon Jungkook. I’m the receptionist here and—and just let me know if you need help with anything!” A full 90 degree bow, and the way he has to adjust his big glasses afterwards is all it takes for the Seokjin and Hoseok to know. 

It wasn’t intentional, the couple didn’t talk it over. But it must've been instinctual the way they both gravitated towards the reception desk to personally introduce themselves. Getting a closer look at the alpha’s cute demeanor, bowing to Seokjin and Hoseok, who had since long stopped trying to hide the fact they’re a couple in the office. They could see Jungkook’s eyes navigate to their linked hands and the rings on each of their fingers. It's so cute how the gears turn in his head. 

A test if you will. To see if Jungkook’s respectful junior employee facade went beyond subgenders. And it did, in that same conversation the blush-cheeked alpha congratulating them both; albeit a little embarrassed, but that's okay. It only enticed the two omegas more. 

They don’t know who started it. But they formula became simple enough:

Bring extra sweets to work, to offer their receptionist. 

Hoseok and Seokjin live together, so it was easy enough to find Seokjin making an extra serving of the lunch they will bring to work the next day. Or Hoseok driving them to stop at a bakery before work. Unspokenly aware of who all of this food was for. It would be too embarrassing to bring up. 

Gifting an alpha food. That’s such primitive and backwards omega courting strategies. Hoseok and Seokjin are nothing like that! They're above instincts. And certainly above looking out for an alpha. 

But how could they resist, when Jungkook took everything they brought him so gratefully. It was perfectly convenient when he forgot his lunch the first time and Hoseok was quick to offer to buy him some. Though most times, the alpha had dutifully brought himself something to eat, yet he always made sure to scarf down the servings that the omega couple had brought for him. They could see him from their desks the way he determinedly forced himself to finish, and the way he leaned back on the office chair afterwards; a little bit short of breath from just how full he is. 

That's a satisfied alpha right there. A thought that fueled them even more. 

And their efforts paid off. The couple knew their spouse was also ogling the alpha as his work clothes began to fill out. His already tight button ups, looking suffocating, not in muscle but chub. Pillowy to the touch in the unflattering fabric. Belt of his dress pants created a muffin top that sat over the waistband. Otherwise muscular and small butt looking rounded out and bubbly; jiggling when he brought out copies to their manager. Or came back with everyone’s coffee order. Seokjin could not have been less subtle when, with the exclusive view of his desk, he saw the way Jungkook sat down and subtlety undid his belt and pants just when he arrived from work. 

He was plumping up, from them. Their doing. 

It should've been a stop sign. After all, doesn’t anyone want a strong chiseled alpha? Guess Seokjin and Hoseok aren’t that succumbed to instincts. The first sights of progress motivated them even more. Jungkook had to force himself to finish out of politeness those first weeks. But afterwards, it seemed like the alpha couldn’t get enough. 

And who were they to deny him? 

He whined so sweetly when lunch time was arriving, restless as his stomach grumbled. In the more quiet moments of the office, you could even hear it. In meetings where Jungkook was taking notes, the blush rose all over his rounded out face. Burying his head into the notepad as he scribbled away, hoping nobody would have heard. 

Probably the entire table did, but Hoseok quietly slid down the little tray of snacks that Jungkook had prepared himself. Mostly untouched, maybe that’s why he can see hesitation in the alpha’s eyes. Jungkook could never resist though, not when one of his two favorite senior employees was offering. A warm smile he knew Jungkook couldn’t say no to; if the last 4 months are anything to go by. The entire tray was eaten by the receptionist who put it there, and Hoseok’s hand pats the alpha’s thigh under the table when he feels Jungkook shift uncomfortably full. 

Their alpha has no self control. 

Hoseok and Seokjin swear it was a coincidence when they saw Jungkook hurriedly rush to the toilet. Right before lunch. Wouldn’t have thought much of it if it wasn’t for the quiet ‘fuck’ that came from one of the stalls. Once again, the couple share one of their knowing looks. 

“Jungkookie? Everything okay?” Hoseok asks tentatively. 

“Oh–Yeah yeah, I’m fine. Just.-- ugh!” His grunt is more whiny than frustrated. Adorable in every situation it seems. “Is it just you guys?” His tone is quieter. It's lovely how he already knows the couple is together. 

“Yes, puppy. You can tell us.” Seokjin says an endeared smile already on his face. The pet name that's been slipping out of both their lips lately. But they made sure to keep it for private moments like these. 

Jungkook doesn’t answer, instead opening the door. To reveal the sight of his fully unbuttoned pants, with a pudgy bottom roll that pushes between the flaps. A curved cute belly with naked pink pudge along his hips. 

“I–I snacked all day and now I can’t get them to button.” He confesses. “B–But I got a meeting after lunch and I–I can’t skip lunch but they definitely own’t button then!” He whines, eyebrows cutely scrunched up in worry. 

“Aigo… You should’ve bought a bigger pair a while ago, Kook.” Seokjin comments without malice. 

“I didn’t think I gained t–that much. Until now.” He becomes more and more shameful, trying to shrink into himself. 

“Let's go buy you some new ones!” Hoseok interjects. “Our lunch break is long enough, plus we can invite you to lunch, like we’ve been talking about.” He eyes Seokjin. A bit of a shameless advance, but the couple has been talking about it for months. 

Jungkook smiles a bit, knowing but still timid. “O–Okay, let's go.” 

Not only is this one not like the others. This one is theirs.

[stillm0nster]

·˚ ◌༘₊· ͟͞꒰➳6th of october, 2024!!

his old self would have been quite oblivious to any hints but things were different now–- he was different. a changed man. at the back of his head lingered thoughts related to the conversation he overheard between aeri and their new friend at the midsummer festival earlier this year. the subtle hints were also something he noticed but never audibly noted for he had his own stance about marriage. maybe he had a more realistic and pessimistic outlook on that due to how his parents ( and many more ) ended up. it wasn’t like he didn’t have eternity at his disposal now, so why would he cage himself? if he was to be selfish, it would have taken way, way too long to take a step so important. but then there was she … she just–- had this effect on him that nobody else ever had ( or would have for that matter, he’s sure of that ). something about the idea of seeing her in a white dress with a pretty bouquet in hands has been stuck in his head. watching her dance with ylva, with flowers tucked in her braided hair plus the cute flower crown … the little white dress she had on to blend in with the other girls. but she was never able to blend in. she was the prettiest among them all, with her radiant smile and her contagious laughter! something deep within him m o v e d, as if with ease the switch was flipped. since then, so many thoughts went in and out of his head, so many good timings were missed but maybe he has done that purposely for he knew a better time for such a special moment. the sun was setting behind the tall mountains, earlier than it used to, reminding of the upcoming cold months. standing by the window, he waited while looking at the small box in his hand. opening it, inside was a pretty silver ring with a few stones on it. they reflected the flickering fairy lights above his head, making him smile to himself. he was ready and he knew the answer. closing the lid and tucking the box into the pocket on his jeans, heedo sighed softly when he noticed the familiar figure of his girlfriend approaching the building. remaining by the window for a while, he moved towards the door only when she twisted the key to unlock it. the smile on his face only grew bigger and he threw his arms in the air as soon as she was in his line of sight. “ baby! ” a few strides and he was by her side, already pulling her into his arms. “ i missed you. i missed the birthday girl so much! happy birthday, angel! ” he cooed, releasing her from his suffocating hug only to then start peppering kisses all over her cute face. after their small greeting, he let her go freshen up first. he didn’t lie when he said he prepared them dinner and bought her a cake ( which was absolutely the cutest ) but she had no idea about the actual surprise. nobody knew and it wasn’t the easiest thing because everybody and their mom would know it wasn’t a virtue of his to keep secrets like that. he managed though! when aeri reemerged, all fresh and comfortable, he knew it was the right time. standing in front of her, he looked down for a moment only to see the questioning look in her eyes. adorable. falling on one knee, he fished the little velvety box from his pocket. “ i know i’ve told you how marriage for me is not important and equals a cage. my view was totally different from yours due to our upbringings i suppose but someone special came by and showed me i was wrong. i’m thankful that you respected me and never once tried to push that on me just because you wanted it. it’s very selfless and … honestly, that’s so you. i’ve known you long enough to know that. it’s my turn to respect you and your wishes, to make you happy. it’s my one and only wish. ” making a small pause, he opened the little box, revealing the engagement ring in it. “ hân minh bè, will you marry me? ”

[drchenquill]

OC interaction Tag~

Thank you @illarian-rambling for the tag, this sounds like such a fun game!!!

Rules: describe an OC and pair how they would interact with the given OCs from the people who tagged you!

Katie's OC: Twenari is an adolescent girl (12 in the first book, 16 in the second two) with short locs and a preference for skirts over pants. She is a prodigy sorcerer and general gifted kid. Throughout her childhood, her smuggler mother used her as a source of magical security and intimidation, which eventually caused her to run away after being forced to commit one too many unsavory acts. Because of this, Twenari acts much older than she is. She's pragmatic, blunt, and strategic. However, in other ways, she's very behind the learning curve. She's painfully introverted and never learned to socialize beyond formal events. Magic is her darling and purpose. She's insatiably curious about everything, but mostly, she wants to understand all the world has to offer in the field of the arcane. She's also at a kill count of about six. That's what happens when you're constantly chased by mercenaries and have the ability to explode people with your brain.

My OC: Emil is a young boy (12 in the first story, just turned 18 in the second story I'm working on) with thick red curls that not even his mother knows how to handle. He is the only prince of the Kingdom Mousiki. He is mute from birth since his voice has been stolen by the goddess that was supposed to protect his family and his kingdom. But since being mute is such a rare, almost non-existing accurance in Mousiki or neighboring kingdoms, there are no other ways for him to communicate other then the little notepad he carries around everywhere. His parents and the people around him tend to be overbearing, that leads to him feeling suffocated, which he does not shy away from showing. He only has one friend, but he is always happy making new acquaintances and always tries his best to make everyone around him comfortable.

How they'd interact: Emil is very gentle, that's why I chose him. He would respect Twenaris boundaries, but would still try to get to know her. He is very fascinated with anything magical and would ask to see it, after getting to know her better of course. The first meeting would be very awkward, for Emil would need time to figure out how to approach without overstepping. He would try to introduce her to his world and the small knowledge he has gathered, wanting to share insights. He would be quite scared about her abilites at the beginning, but he always likes to understand before judging. He would keep her away from his only friend, knowing he would overwhelm her with uncomfortable questions, that's why the first meeting would take place in the comfort of Emils little room, where he could show proudly show her his collection of copper coins. Emil would probably look up to her a lot, being fascinated by her maturity.

Tagging for this fun little game: @njnetails, @leahnardo-da-veggie, @theeccentricraven and everyone who sees this of course~

[kore-pythia-hayashi]

[on the hallway outside Kore’s chamber, a strange assortment of steps echo. whispers hide and tangle behind her door.]

Ethan: *quietly, peeking his head past her room’s doorframe* Kore? Kore, Kore get up quickly, He’s…

Ethan: *gulps* …coming. My Lord, the Oracle’s room, as commanded.

[from behind him, two figures step into the warm light]

Kronos: Ah, yes. Our praised Oracle. Our… Kore.

[the empousa by his side snarls and gives Kore a mischievous grin]

Kelli: Isn’t she the loveliest! Our lovely, sweet sweet Kore!

Ethan: *glares at the girl and mouths* He wants…tell him…

Kronos: Quiet, empousa! We are here for serious matters, not your foolish endeavors. Now. *gets closer to the girl*

Kronos: Your visions… the war. I want all the information you have to be shared. *sitting down on her bed, his cold voice has strange specks of light in it* What could my wonderful Oracle tell me?

[Let it be known that Hayashi's Kore Pythia was not fearful or timid. Quite the contrary - those around her, from her family to ordinary passers-by, said that she looked incapable of experiencing fear. Brave as a child when she played with snakes found in the grass while other children ran away screaming, brave later when her bloodline was revealed and she began to see the future, which she hated with a burning, poisonous passion. But was she afraid of it? No, Kore was not afraid of her own future or those around her. Grief, regret, anger, love and never fear. Aphrodite's son seemed to have no power over her. But now her lower back was buzzing and covered with small goosebumps, cold under her skin. Icy sweat trickled down the back of her neck and down her back, a lump froze in her throat, suffocating and huge as a whole stone. In front of her, Kronos in Luke's body, with eyes like the most magnificent gold and the sweetest liquid honey, looking too good and surreal, like some small god, like Hecate who looked too irresistible and exciting. And Kore was afraid of him, as she was afraid of no one, not even her father, Apollo, who burned her thin skin and vulnerable flesh. Her heart stopped in her chest, and her hand almost stretched out, unconsciously seeking comfort in Ethan, who stood on the left side of her closed door and looked at her as if she were dying. But she remained herself, remained a girl who cared little about herself and who knew how to put herself together in tiny pieces and at least look decent even if it was a fragile mask. Instead of seeking solace, her hand jerked to her hair, removing the ribbon holding the ponytail and sweeping long strands into the air - liquid shining gold resembled a silk veil that gently fell over her lowered, almost as if in reverence, shoulders and trickled down to her soft shins. She half-closed her eyes, knowing that under her shining eyelashes her eyes were slowly turning green, the smile came out unconsciously, small and hazy. She looked like an ancient Priestess, traditional and meek, Kronos liked the tradition, right?].

Greetings, my lord, Kronos Uranides, child of heaven and earth, husband of the great Rhea and father of the great six... Lord of the World. [Her voice sounded soft and respectful, she kept her head low and briefly pressed her lips to his fingers - they were like cool silk on her sharply parched lips. Part of her thought it was her choice, her choice belonged to him. She accepted him no matter how bad he was]. And Kellonia Hecatnides, the Senior and mightiest among the Empousai, daughter of the goddess Hecate and the daimon Mormo. [the smile that Kelli gave her might have looked affectionate if it hadn't been for too many sharp fangs or the fire in her blood-red eyes. Kore was thinking about her cheerleader uniform, in another world now at her seventeen she could wear the same one instead of a chiton to serve the oracle].

Of course, my lord... I am happy to be pleasing and helpful to you. The war will begin... [She talks, talks a lot and frankly, as before, speaks as always. The words flow in an intermittent river, she describes in detail everything from Percy Jackson's acceptance of the curse of Achilles to Hades joining the fight for the sake of his son, Nico Di Angelo. She talks and talks without ever stopping, even if her throat is painfully compressed, and her tongue seems to be cut by hundreds of small blades. Kronos looks at her with pleasure, his hand gently squeezes her throat, his fingers caress the carotid artery, Kelli watches this as an interesting show, Ethan's trembling fingers grip the scabbard of his sword... It was her choice and Kore Pythia Hayashi never gave up her choice].

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Falling Stardust: Chapter Four

Falling Stardust: You, an innocent and naive fallen star, tumble out of Morpheus’s cloak and get wrapped up in his possessive and dark love.

Warnings: Morpheus Manipulation, Gaslighting.

To Note: Dark!Morpheus x FemStar!Reader (Reader is Named Astra).

Word Count: ~2.3k

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Your new home was wonderful. Morpheus gave you free reign of the palace, village, and lands, you were experiencing sights, sensations, and events like never before, and the people were welcoming to your presence. There was simply nothing you had to complain about… but a deep melancholy had taken root in your new body. No, that melancholy had wormed its way into the creation of your physical form. You were born with it, and oh how it wore you down. The loss and longing for your family was almost agony for you.

Staring down at the book in your hand, your eyes glossed over the passage you had been reading, or at least tying to. Your mind would not let you read, and instead, made you relive the pain of loosing your family over and over. Your eyes prickled with tears and you pushed your fingers against them.

“Why must you do this to me?” You softly spoke, hating your new being once more. Why did you have to repeatedly suffer from this agony? Why did something within your chest have to constantly ache!? Was it not enough that you had to ripped from your cradle once? That suffocating panic built within your chest and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Abandoning the book, you abruptly jerked yourself to your feet and bolted from where you had been sitting for the last half hour. You rushed out of the library and flew across smooth marble to the nearest exit.

You scrambled from the palace while a noxious storm brewed within your mind, muddling it and giving you tunnel vision. You only panicked more, not understanding what was going on. But you couldn’t cause a problem for Morpheus! Gritting your teeth, you forced what you were feeling to churn and build within you, where you could protect Morpheus from feeling it. Crashing your way into one of the many gardens, you collapsed against a nearby bench and pressed your hand against your chest, feeling that ache thrumming away beneath your palm.

It was an uncomfortable feeling and you didn’t understand why it was happening. Looking down at your hand, you saw that it was trembling against your breast. Confusion filled you at your bodily reaction and pulling your hand away from your tunic, you stared at your shaking hand. There was a lot you didn’t understand. Dropping your hand, you shifted on the bench, taking a seat and staring off at a nearby bush. It was flowering and quite pretty. You squeezed your eyes shut and wrapped your star lined coat around your body.

While everyone was nice to you, it was too a certain point. Yes, they were nice, but at the same time they also were standoffish with you and always seemed to be too busy to make small talk. You had offered to assist them so they weren’t too busy, but then their following reaction of revulsion. Like your very offer of assistance was insulting, or at least illegal. Was it against the rules for you to help? Or maybe you were just seen as a hinderance, or perhaps a pest. Or maybe they just didn’t like you. Your lip wobbled at the thought.

You were trying so hard to be good and useful within this realm. Just like how you had a part to play within your old home. You were young, but not useless or a hinderance. Perhaps you just needed to try again. Yes, that’s what you would do. Maybe they were just busy that day and didn’t have time to tell you what to do. Wiping your face, you took a deep breath and straightened up. You were going to try again.

Leaving the gardens, your face donned a determined one as you strode for the bridge connecting the palace to the village. You passed several of the palace workers who all bowed to you and murmured their respective greetings, but you hardly paid them any mind. Your determination to be useful and make true friends within this realm was all you could think about. Crossing the bridge was quick and easy, and you found yourself venturing into the village soon enough.

First you decided to stop by Clovis’s shop to see if he needed any help with cataloguing the numerous dream scripts that were always in production. No, you knew he would need help, the poor dream was always behind and his pile of unsorted dream scripts was always growing, no matter how hard he worked. Surely he couldn’t refuse your offer of help when he needed it so desperately. Turning down the cobbled road to Clovis’s haphazard archive, you hummed to yourself as you enjoyed the fresh village air.

There was something about the palace and the palace grounds that had a regal and heavy atmosphere. Like you had to be and act, perfect, at all times. Or perhaps the decorum was simply so rigid that you felt like you could do something wrong unintentionally. But not in the village. Here you felt relaxed, free, normal even… which was strange because you had no reason to not feel like that when at the palace, under the watchful eye of Morpheus.

Opening the door to the dream script archive, you came face to face with stacks of scripts haphazardly leaning everywhere. Some were half open, others had a thick layer of dust, you could have sworn that Clovis was even using a few stacks as a place to put several goblets and food trays. Your lips twitched. Clovis definitely needed help.

“Clovis?” You called out, looking around high stacks of dream scripts in search of the Dream of Scripts. He was nowhere to be found. Sighing, you delved further into the chaos of scripts, weaving around haphazard stacks and avoiding precious piles that appeared to be moments from toppling over. You found the dream in question sleeping at his desk, a trail of drool running down his chin as he softly snored. Was it really a good idea for Clovis to have been made to be so sleepy? Well, it was not your place to question Morpheus’s creations. You shook his shoulder. “Clovis,” You called, blinking at the dream as he roused in place and yawned.

“I’ll do it tomorrow,” Clovis sighed out, reaching up to rub his eye. He blinked several more times before seeming to fall back asleep. You didn’t let him and shook his shoulder harder.

“Clovis, you aren’t supposed to be sleeping on the job, remember?” You chided the dream. He grumbled underneath his breath and straightened up in his seat, wiping his chin and mouth with the back of his hand.

“‘M up, ‘m up,” he repeated, yawning once more. Clovis’s doe like eyes blinked at you and his head cocked to the side. “Oh, hello Astra, do you need something? Does Lord Morpheus need a dreams script drawn from the archives?”

“Ah, no,” You admitted, looking down at your hands twisted together. “No, I am not here on official business,” You further explain. “I know you are very busy and was wondering if I could help you? Surely you could use at least a little assistance given the great wealth of dream scripts that still require cataloguing and shelving…” It took a few moments for Clovis to realize what you were asking, and the dream shifted uncomfortably.

“Oh, about that…” Clovis muttered, his eyes darting around nervously. You looked at him hopeful and eager, and the guilt that surged within Clovis was hard to beat back. But he knew he what would happen if he said yes and risking the wrath of Morpheus was the last thing he wanted. “I don’t need your help,” You tried to beat back the bitter hurt and disappointment that filled your body.

“I see,” You whispered, drooping in place. There were other dreams you could ask to help, you’d try them. Leaving behind Clovis’s archives, you walked through the village to the bakery, the dreams that ran it were always struggling to keep up with the demand for their goods around this time. But even the kind bakers turned you away, hastily pushing you away from their work with simple excuses. How could we sully your hands with work? Surely one such as you is above such common practice… A star is far too precious. Why did it matter that you were a star, albeit a fallen one? No matter how many dreams you went to, there answer was the same and you were feeling even more useless than when you had started.

Feeling hurt and frustrated, you walked back across the bridge while trying to fight the tears that blistered your eyes. By the time your feet touched palace marble, a few tears had fled your eyelashes and fell to the stone path, solidifying into crystal. You sniffed and angrily swiped at your face, hating yourself. You had to have done something to make everyone not like you. Ending up in the gardens once more, you followed the path that led to the deepest part of the endless garden, unknowingly leaving a trail of crystalized tears behind you.

You ended up standing in front of a fountain with shimmering water, your tears dropping into the gurgling water and solidifying, before gently coming to rest on the fountain bottom with little shimmers. Reaching into the bubbling fountain, you plucked a few of the crystaline drops and held them in your fingers. Why did such prettiness have to be born from your sadness? You whimpered softly and reached up to push the tears still gathering at your lashes, away from your skin.

You hated how out of place you felt here.

From behind you came a swirl of darkness and anger, and turning around in confusion you saw Morpheus striding for you. His eyes were a storm of darkness just barely brightened by stars. Your sorrow and woes were forgotten in an instant as you wondered what could have upset Morpheus so much. Before you had a chance to question the mood of your lord, he was upon on you, taking your face in hand and brushing away the wet tear tracks.

“For what egregious reason does my star have to weep with such gravity?” Morpheus all but growled down at you, his eyes searching yours for the cause of made you weep to terribly. It hadn’t been hard to find you the moment he had felt your sadness, you had left a trail of crystalized tears in your wake. Lips trembling, you looked down, not wanting to be ungrateful for what you had been given. Morpheus could see your hesitancy. He did not like that and pressed further, his eyes glowing softly. “Astra, what causes you to be in such despair?”

“I don’t belong here and I am useless,” You whispered out. “I— What use do I have being here if I cannot aid the dreams? No one will let me help because apparently stars are too precious, and I feel like no one wants to be my friend.”

So his dreams had followed his explicit instructions on how they were to treat you. Of course they were to be polite and give you the respect that you deserved, but under no circumstances were they to allow you to become attached to anyone save for him. No friendships shall be made until you were well and truly protected within Morpheus’s arms. Even then he still wished for your complete and total attention. Morpheus stroked your face and leaned down, his eyes boring into yours in captivating comfort.

“My precious star, my dreams and nightmares simply wish to ensure that you are not overwhelmed or hurt while partaking in their work.” You started to frown not understand how you could be hurt by some of the tasks which you offered your aid to. Morpheus was quick to continue, brushing the hair from your face and catching a lingering tear that threatened to fall. “It is our job to protect you,” Morpheus gently coaxed. “Or do you not wish for our hospitality?”

You shook your head. Of course you were grateful for their hospitality, more than happy.

“Of course not, I—“ Morpheus took your chin and pressed his thumb against your lips.

“Do you seek to segregate yourself from us Astra?” Morpheus pressed, seeing the fight within you wilt with each passing second. “Are we such a poor substitute for family that you long for another?” Oh now you felt ever so guilty for ever leading Morpheus and the others to believe that.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” Morpheus shushed you, his face hovering close to yours. You pressed your wobbly lips together. “I feel like I don’t belong here.” You whispered.

“Of course you belong within my realm,” Morpheus instantly replied, drinking in the soft heat that emitted from your skin. Having you so close once more, you were far to irresistible and Morpheus had given you more than enough time and space to adjust to your new home and he did not want to wait any longer. “You fell from my coat, you are my star, Astra. Your place is here, by my side, are you not the closest to your sisters here?”

Your lips parted to respond to him, but your lips were intercepted before you had a chance to speak. Morpheus’s lips were pressing against yours, hungrily and filled with possession. Surprise filled you and you had no idea what to do. So you raised your hands and dug your fingers into the very jacket you had fallen from.

Teeth caught your lower lip and you softly gasped, the parting of your lips allowing Morpheus to kiss you deeper. His tongue curled around yours and coaxed you to kiss back, to respond to his demands, and you did, not knowing what else to do. Morpheus continued to kiss you until it was all you could think about, and then kissed you some more. Your lips were sweet and innocent, and Morpheus knew that he would never tire of them.

Date Published: 2/8/23

Last Edit: 4/4/23

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[missr3n3]

Cdta Royalty AU (Locations) [Ask to add if you find it necessary/wish to know!]

Sevens' Moors : Moorland where the Princes rule over their respective territories, sometimes called Moors Kingdom. Used to house a single large kingdom called Alterius, but it was invaded, taken over and split

Alterius : Luce's domain (kingdom Michael was the Archbishop/royal advisor in) St. Michael's Church -> St. Michael's Palace (Seat of power in Alterius)

Nightmare Sand Pit -> "The Cage" (The giant basement of the palace where prisoners are locked up in)

Nox County -> Barony of Nox : A small but independent slice of land, not subservient to a monarch, but rather governed by its Baroness and General. The population used to be quite large, due to many peasant families and merchants fleeing their previous homes to live there, in search of a less suffocating lifestyle, as Nox was and still is known for its low taxes and its military service being optional, but the current population is quite small. Nox suffered an unexpected invasion from Alterius, which resulted in the kidnapping of many young people, including the Baroness's husband and two members of the General's family, leaving many children without one or both parents, and causing many to flee. There had been rumors of a tall cloaked figure wandering around and being particularly conversational with young women, and strangely, many such of those young women or their partners were part of the kidnapped people.

Hemera County -> Barony of Hemera : Also an independent land, much like Nox, who offered resources and financial aid to the latter, and took in the many citizens who fled after the invasion. Due to them being distant cousins, the old Baron left his lands to Baroness Sharpe, who now rules over both territories.

Diane County -> Viscountcy of Diane : Unlike the two previous territories, Diane is a vassal to a higher power, in this case a Queen on the other side of the continent, serving as a sort of colony. Ruled over by Viscount Hawthorne, it has very fertile fields but an extremely demanding economy, so most resident families have lived there for generations rather than having moved in.

Rochester, New York -> Rockslake Parish, NewSkies city (location of St. Amir's Parochial Church)

BSA (Bureau of Solomonic Affairs) -> BSA (Brethren of Saint Amir) - military religious society [inspired by the Teutonic Knights and the Knights Templar]

Toronto, Ontario -> Tallverity city, Ollimason Domain

(Anyone can write for this au since it's technically open(?) but since I plan to write a bit more for it, I'll go by Pandora if that's not a problem)

yayyyy royal au is back!!!

cant help but imagine all these locations with like, either a french or otherwise vaguely mediterranean look to them

^ this type of vibe

would love to know more about the characters, should u feel up to sharing! if im reading this right, it sounds like isaac is some type of nobleman, and that sounds like a lot of fun lol