#they were the ones who were against their partner | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rahuratna · 1 day ago

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All right, to start with, I'm always a sucker for great world building and alternate settings, and this piece reflects exactly that. Before I get into the meat of the story, a couple of things:

This story is written in such a way that each paragraph feels like a cog in a larger timepiece, ticking inexorably to its passionate conclusion. I'm not sure how you managed that, but it contributes so much to the development of sexual tension between them, and the reader is placed on a little clockwork cart and pitched along at the pace you set. This control you exert over the pacing is just excellent.

Second, I love stories that transport you to a place of almost isolation, where descriptions of people and places are so vivid, but intentionally slip by you by like scenery on a journey, because the electricity between the main characters is your destination, what you're fixed upon. It's reflective of that true passion between lovers, where love becomes a cocoon and the world patters against the outside, never breaking the spell you cast upon one another.

As someone who worked in a lab, and moved to a profession where I'm pretty much surrounded by large numbers of people daily, I feel Nanami, lol. I would also love the quiet refuge of a place where I dedicate myself to my work. The evolution of the attraction between him and the Reader feels almost inevitable from the time she passes his test. The solution she finds is direct, breaking down a problem that seems complex into simpler parts to achieve an end, the very essence of creating timepieces.

The sexual tension is also drawn into this theme of elaborate dance, precision and timing. Kento's hands using the Reader's to 'perform miracles', the intimacy of such a position made necessary by work, the way his presence is so strong but never overbearing, all captures the essence of Kento as a romantic/sexual partner.

Also, I LOVE the way the references to the time period make it very clear where and when we are, without ever needing to be explicitly stated. The mention of the lamplighter, of Spring Heeled Jack, were all exactly the thing I needed on this rainy afternoon. For atmosphere. Yes. Lol. I mean, yes, I too would give Reader a piece of my mind for wandering around after dark, especially after an allusion to the Whitechapel murders are made.

Please don't kill me for this: She wanted to deliver the package, but ended up with a bigger one LMAO. At least the man is self aware, he knows he's no size for a first timer. The descriptions of the undressing as an act by itself is so telling. It's such a contrast to the order and mechanical rhythm of their day to day interaction, a loss of that fine veneer of gentility, a reveal of the 'animal' beneath that Kento speaks of. The loss of clockwork to the primacy of passion, unwrapped one layer at a time, is the best backdrop for the explicit nature of what happens between them.

The action of wetting his fingers with her saliva to put out the candle is so inspired. It's almost thoughtless in execution, a tell for how much he's been fantasizing about this.

I think my favourite part of this, strangely, was the way you wrote how they approached the bed. The description of how he knows the lay of the corridor between their rooms so well, because of the number of times he's paced it, his room, a place of peace and order about to be transformed into something so much more, your description of him 'stalking' her slowly up the bed as a continuation of the theme of a beast dressed in 'fine tailoring' was what really stood out for me.

The sex scene itself was such a great juxtaposition to the charade of proper conduct they carry out in the workshop each day, and the Reader character's direct nature, seen in the way she discovers her own sexual freedom through him, is reflected so well here too.

Another thing I've picked up is that although Nanami is clearly the dominant and leading partner to begin with, and it's reflected in what he says, his actions give her agency and the ability to explore what gives her pleasure, and there's nothing hotter than that. The idea of her falling pregnant doesn't seem an unnaturally conceived notion at all, because it comes through very clearly that she knows what she wants, and she always has. It's what drew him to her in the first place.

Finally, the conversation between them after passion has spent itself; while it seems on the surface that he's returning to his clockwork self, that's not it at all. That's who he always has been, he's just allowed the Reader to take him apart, expertly with pleasure, to see his innermost workings, and put him back together after. For someone like Kento, in this fic, that's such a declaration of deep trust and love. It expands on the title even further, one watchmaker recognises another in the art and synchronicity that builds between them, and in that, finds a complete masterwork.

Thank you for this atmospheric and beautiful read on a rainy afternoon, Haitch.

The Watchmaker

Newly employed as the assistant to a renowned watchmaker, you soon discover how deeply his obsessions run.

Warnings: 18+, boss/assistant relationship, mutual longing, loss of virginity, fingering (f!receiving), nipple play, hand job (m!receiving), creampie, gentle manhandling (consensual), breeding hints, gentle period-drama Nanami snippety-snaps and becomes unhinged, two desperate people getting far too sexy over timepieces and pots of tea

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It was unusual for a lone young woman to be lodged and apprenticed by a single man; and, yet, it came to be, when you alone passed the Watchmaker's interview.

You approached on dry cobblestones, to a handsome, deep shop, with glossy black and gold railings and doors. Your corset felt heavy with the city's summer humidity; the river held the heat like a simmering pan, and its heady stench threatened to consume you. You were used to being without a chaperone, but your modest dress and poor accompaniment drew more wayward glances in this part of the city.

You hurried into the shop, a brass bell above the door tinkling your arrival. Nobody came to greet you. You followed the voices to the back, the eyes of many timepieces following you, their ticking as whispers and gossip in your wake. You came, in time, down tiled steps to a workshop, warm and bright and full of men...naturally.

A single, cursive note graced a sign before the only remaining workbench.

Repair the clock.

Such meagre instructions for a sought-after job. In golden lamplight, a pile of cogs and a loose-handed clock face glimmered like dragon hoard. You cast your eyes, stroking your corset and heavy skirts. You nodded once, and reassured yourself, only once.

"You can do this."

The Watchmaker, a tall man whose broad shoulders and thick hands did not suggest one with a delicate touch, neither agreed nor disagreed; he simply watched, silently observing you like the many faces of his timepieces. You set to work before your audience. The Watchmaker came and went, seeking to observe the half-dozen men competing alongside you.

And, in time, half a dozen sweating young men failed one, by one, by one. The Watchmaker's disgust was apparent, and his sneers soured one, by one, by one, until the last young hopeful curdled like milk before him.

When the Watchmaker came to you, you and your box of gold were not at your station. He frowned, kept company only by muted ticks and tocks. He followed your trail, out to his walled garden.

The test would have been considered a 'trick' only by those who were angry that their lack of respect for precision and accuracy had been identified. You, who could not fathom such sloppiness, found an honest solution.

"A sundial?" The Watchmaker rumbled. You felt a rush of heat from fingertips to toes, untouched by such a voice before. Smoothing your skirts again, and finishing your adjustments to hide the heat in your cheeks, you nodded.

You had fashioned your clock face and myriad small clock pieces to form a glimmering sundial. You had positioned it just so, and confirmed its position with the time shown on your own, battered pocket watch.

The Watchmaker circled you, with narrow eyes that may contain humour were they not so scrutinising. He was impeccably tailored, you noted; a high, crisp collar and rolled back white sleeves revealed enough throat and forearm to make you sweat. An exquisite navy waistcoat nipped his waist only marginally more than his tied apron, and he hummed at your sundial.

"Not what I'd call accurate."

"I disagree. While it may not be very precise, it is accurate. The cogs for the clock couldn't be set in such a way as to make the seconds correct. They were always just out. But you already knew that, didn't you?"

He almost smiled; his eyes certainly did. Nodding, and not one for hyperbolic praise, he bowed, instead.

"Nanami Kento. I would be privileged to offer you the role as my apprentice."

The earth formed a springboard, launching you to heaven, and it wrenched the breath from your lungs on the way. Checking yourself before you babbled over with incredulous tears, you choked out an answer on a sloppy curtsey.

"Even though-- even though I'm a woman?"

A scoff. "I don't see how that's relevant."

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Mr.Nanami sought your constant presence.

A natural timekeeper, himself, he sought the company of those like him, who would not expect him to partake in social niceties and small-talk. It was no wonder, then, that he became a Watchmaker, whose many-natured friends had the same face but twice a day.

While Nanami Kento was normally at peace in ticking solitude, the many hands and ceaseless seconds had eventually, as the years went by, begun to grind into an aching loneliness.

You felt it, as summer crisped to autumn, and frosted to winter-- his desire for your company. The way his obsession bloomed to include you alongside his timepieces. The way he lingered in doorways while you handled the customers' repairs. The way he seemed breathless when your smile sent another happy patron on their way. The way he would flinch if you brushed past him.

And god, how it burned you. Eyes downcast in reverence could not remain so for long, so magnetised were they to him. His silences were rarely cold, but rather, simply those of one who held his tongue until he had something to say; a far cry from the men you knew, who sought to usurp the monarchial peace through vocal domination.

Learning such craft at Mr.Nanami's thick, calloused hands, required intimate proximity; he would have to lean around you, at points, with his chest to your back. He moved your hands within his, teaching you the dexterity needed to repair a tiny watch with surgical precision. He leaned like this around you now. You could barely breathe.

"You were not wrong. Though not strictly right, either," he murmured in your ear, his breath grazing over your cheek. His hands held the tools in yours, using your body to perform miracles. You felt faint, flushed, hot against his body, and breathed a shaking breath, quiet in your frustration so as not to disturb the sleeping cogs.

"I want to be perfect, I-- I need it--"

An amused hum, used to your angry tiny mechanics. "You are perfect, thank you. Now let us make the pocket watch match."

As your hands worked in tandem, and another impossibly tiny cog found its home, you gasped in delight, relieved, and not thinking.

"Ah, yes, Kento, we--"

Mr.Nanami stiffened behind you. You backpedaled.

"Ah-- I mean, Mr.Nanami-- I'm so sorry--"

He did not seem upset, though his ears reddened as he stepped away from you. He murmured again, unused to being perceived.

"No, no-- it's quite alright-- I use your given name, after all."

With his face flat but his eyes alight, when you looked up at him in wary apology, he sought to reassure you with a smile.

"Really, please-- please do call me Kento."

"It feels...wrong."

"I...would not seek to make you uncomfortable. It is entirely of your preference."

Your heart drowned out the whispering whirrs of the room. You heard the tap of Mr.Nanami's feet as he ascended the workshop stairs, and blurted out.

"--Kento, I'll...I'll call you Kento. Please."

A pause. Another silence. Kento's voice tightened with something altogether more intimate.

"I fear I shall get used to it far too quickly."

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Too long were you lingering in your respective doorways, before bed. Too sweet, were the shared evenings in a firecrackle sitting room. Too electrifying, were the hands that met to pour just one more cup. Too intentional were the slim-eyed stares that burned down to the very bones of you.

If you died, and committed your body to science, the ghost of you would be unsurprised if a surgeon found Nanami Kento's name scored across your ribs; for nobody else could access that cage to your heart and soul.

Nobody else could warm you, during Winter fairs on the frozen river.

Nobody else could take your hand, to help you down the stairs at the Timepiece Exhibition.

Nobody else could still you with a look, or teach you with such few words, and this was so wrong, so wrong, he's your teacher your mentor your--

Your peak hit you in a burst of static. You clasped your hand over your own mouth, as if it would sell you out for your filthy crimes. Still, you arched in your bed, your toes curling against the sheets, bucking up into nothing in waves. Clarity did not hit you after, for it had already hit you during, and had done nothing to still your fingers.

Rolling over, and pressing your face into your pillow after the ecstasy had passed, you held your breath. It was too quiet.

Your eyes sprung open. The muffled bustling you had heard from the bedroom next door, had stopped. You weren't sure when. The silence was deafening...until movement started again, more clipped than it had been before. You could feel him, moving with irritation, a prowling beast in a cage.

It was over an hour before Kento's own hand travelled down his belly, to grasp himself with whispered curses and pleas of your name. Long enough, he hoped, for you to be asleep. Long enough, he hoped, that he could hide this rampant obsession that was so wrong, so wrong, he's your teacher your mentor your--

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"I should think I'll be home for tea. Inspector Aberline's grandfather clock again. It has stage fright, I fear, for how often the Inspector stares at it."

Kento's words, from hours before, rolled through your mind again and again. The smile you had sent your final patron of the day on his way with, slipped away, for you saw the lamplighter beginning his rounds on the cobbles outside. The sun had already set; he was late, tonight. You'd have offered him a lantern, but without Kento beside you, you felt you would need its warmth and light more.

Your eyes flickered to a package on the desk. It was imperative, Kento had said, that this was delivered to the customer today. 'Today', as a concept, was growing increasingly more abstract as it threatened to expire.

You saw the deep, dark circles under Kento's eyes, in your mind's eye. He had not been sleeping well. He needed the rest. You could not bear to see him overburdened.

Taking a deep breath, and undoing your apron to replace it for your heavy coat and gloves, you tucked the package under your arm, locked up to the tune of the tinkling bell, and stole away through the night like a thief in the dark.

Clacking across cobblestones, and trying to diminish the noise of your boots upon them, you walked for what felt like miles. Though you were sure you were safe, in this part of the city, the darkness turned shadows into beasts of great renown.

Spring-Heeled Jack stalked you from the shadows. You clutched the package closer, walking faster, breathing harder--

"What the hell are you doing out here, at this time of night?"

You squealed, and flattened against a red brick wall. Kento, imperious and huge in a heavy brown overcoat, glowered down at you with unbridled rage.

"The package," you squeaked, brandishing it as a shield, "you said-- said it needed to be delivered--"

"And it is not your place to take it upon yourself to do so. Returning to find you gone, out delivering a bloody package, while there's a killer on the loose? Extraordinary." The coldness that Kento reserved only for others, now directed at you, was a bitter sting.

Still; Kento held out his arm, stiff. His lip curled when you did not immediately take it. He grew frosty as he waited, and you slipped your arm into his, to a mollified grumble.

"Come," Kento rumbled, arresting you in a hold so intimate against his side, "let us not waste a journey. The customer isn't far from here. It shall give you time to think about your foolish choices."

You felt furious tears prickle behind your eyes. Like a dog with a bone, Kento struggled to let his anger go, and you snapped up at him, "Give it a rest. You're not my husband--"

"--yet, if it would allow me any sort of say over your safety, perhaps I should be your husband." Kento had frozen, looming over you. Your belly twisted, your face hot. You turned aside, chastised like a child.

"I'm no girl," you whispered, venomous, "I can take care of myself--"

"In a world that places no value on women, why should you ever feel safe? Out here, instead of in my--"

It was Kento's turn to redden. His jaw clenched. His fingers tapped upon the package. You felt righteous anger bubbling over, and rolled the dice, in a stabbing final gambit.

"In your what, sir? In your workshop? In your arms? Or in your bed?"

Kento's stony impassivity was tested, but remained steadfast even against your snapping. But you knew him, now; you saw how his chest hitched, heard his knuckles crack, and caught the faintest flare of his nostrils. Ducking his head for a moment, and dramatised by lamplit shadow, he stepped in just once to whisper above your ear.

"You forget yourself. I am your mentor, and you are my assistant, and--"

"--and I've had enough of you pretending that's all we are--"

"--and it's hard enough not bursting into your room at night when I hear your fingers drag my name from your mouth, so if you will be so kind as to cease and desist, I will not have to press you against this damn wall to hold your tongue with my own."

His hissing reproach doused the argument with ice water. Numb-footed and stunned, you walked through treacle, as Kento dragged you to deliver the package. Your chest was still thickened by mortification by the time you approached the Watchmakers' familiar iron railings.

You found yourself pressed inside, hearing the door bolted with force. Kento's hands softened as they removed your coat from your shoulders.

"Bed," he snapped. Kento turned his back to you to light a waxdrip candle. White shirtsleeves billowed from the shoulders of his waistcoat, and he checked his pocket watch as if it would give him the answer. You reached one hand out, to bunch in the back of his waistcoat, as if a child, and he snapped again.

"Alone."

You flinched. You closed your eyes, and took a deep breath. You swallowed hard, rolling the dice again.

"I hear you, too. In your room at night. The walls are thin."

"So is my patience, young lady, I will not tolerate--"

"You treat me like a girl to distance yourself from me, but pleasure yourself to my name? Please. You can make a fool of yourself but don't make a fool out of me--"

Kento spun with a growl, lifting you by the waist to drop you upon the counter. You squeaked, gripping his shoulders to steady yourself when he closed the gap between you.

"Do not act as if you know," Kento whispered, low and slow, "what it's like to feel like an animal in fine tailoring. Do not act as if you know what it means to be reduced so, that I must spill myself onto my belly every night, to preserve your virtue.

I do not blame you, naturally-- it's my burden entirely-- but if you add one more ounce to my shoulders with that incorrigible little mouth of yours, I'm afraid your virtue shall be...under threat."

You couldn't deny the heat pooling between your thighs, now, trapped as it was by Kento's taut body. You couldn't deny your craving for such fabled bliss.

"How does it feel," you whispered, your hand creeping up the buttons of his waistcoat to stroke the silk of his cravat, "Kento? How does it feel? Do you use your hand, or--"

An agonal little choke broke past Kento's high collar. His eyes begged you to stop him. You felt his long fingers twitch on your waist.

"Do not ask me--"

"Please," you whispered again, just as desperate as him, "please, I need to know, I can't keep living life in the dark--"

"My hand," Kento choked out, his chest barrelling with the weight of his breaths, "I use my hand. But even in the dark, I can't seem to convince myself that it-- that it's--"

You felt him falter, and you begged him, your tugging loosening his cravat enough to see his throat bob behind it. Kento whined, begging in kind. His face twisted, as if the thuds of pleasure lengthening his cock were hurting him. The torture was sweet; you felt it, too.

"Don't make me say it," Kento pleaded, nose to nose and nuzzling from side to side, "I can't take it--"

"You can-- you can take me--"

"--you don't know what you're saying--"

"--I do, Kento, please--"

"--don't know what you're sacrificing--"

"--you wouldn't," you pressed, feeling his hands moving against his wishes to unbutton the back of your dress, "you wouldn't sacrifice me, I know, so just--"

Kento groaned, a sound so sinful, just to feel your dress release and slip down over your shoulders. Pinching the ends of your sleeves, with his fingertips grazing your palms and inner wrists until you shivered, he pulled. A gossamer shift of white ghosted over your skin.

"So many layers, upon a lady," Kento murmured against your lips, "like unwrapping a gift."

He sounded drunk, and the honeyrich pools of his eyes had darkened. You couldn't pinpoint the moment his resolve had crumbled, but crumble it did, with the tick-tocking eyes of many upon you. Kento grazed his fingers against your lips, ordering in a whisper.

"Open." You didn't have to, your jaw already slack as promise burned you at the edges. Kento swiped his thumb and forefinger across your tongue with a groan, and reached out, snuffing the candle between them.

What dim light there had been, died. None that breathed would hold court or witness to what Kento was about to do to your virtue.

"This will not happen only once," Kento murmured against your neck, his tongue darting out to taste you until you mewled. He cursed to hear it, becoming more unhinged by the minute. "I will take your maidenhood as a lover, but take your hand as my wife. You cannot refuse."

You could refuse-- you knew you could, in absolute safety, but such refusal would take his mouth from you with immediate effect. His hands would cease their insistent glide up, and up, beneath your skirts. He would stop rutting forwards against nothing, with each whimper that left your lips. He would no longer drag your bodice down with his teeth, to suckle at the plump swell of your breasts.

You nodded, breathless, your hands shaking against the buttons of Kento's waistcoat. He grunted as it fell open, and your hands settled upon his waist. His graze against your neck was more insistent, now, and sloppier; hungry, open mouthed kisses that suckled the salt from your skin. Occasionally, you heard him murmur, begging to you, or to his god, or to himself, for any sort of release.

Overtaken by need, you finished unbuttoning his trousers, and tangled your fingers in his hair, instead.

"Don't know what you're doing," Kento mumbled, drunker by the minute, "going to ruin you, I-- I'll ruin you-- I'm no sensible size for a virgin--"

"So you suggest I find some other man?" You panted, "You suggest I find someone smaller--"

"They don't fucking deserve you," Kento spat, forcing the last of your skirts up to grind himself at your core until you whined. With your corset untied, Kento tossed it to the floor behind him with disdain, and yanked the final layer down to free your breasts.

Shuddering, he gripped his cock to restrain himself.

"Divine," Kento whispered, ducking to nuzzle against the tips of your breasts, "I have to-- please allow me to--"

Without waiting for an answer, Kento lapped your nipple into his mouth with a groan. Suckling until you pleaded his name, with hot bursts of pleasure to your core, Kento's hands reached the crest of your thighs, and groaned to find more layers in the way.

"Buy you some more," he grunted against your breasts, gripping the fabric between strong fingers to shred it apart, "my apologies-- now, just-- oh, fuck, I--"

His fingers had slipped between your folds to glide through them. Needing to see you arch against the sudden intrusion, Kento pressed you back until you were lying on the counter, and loomed over you. You caught sight of him for the first time in minutes.

Kento was utterly dishevelled, unabashed, and too far gone. With his cravat and waistcoat hanging loose, and a long, thick swell beneath what remained of his unbuttoned trousers, he looked more debauched than your wildest fantasies. He twitched with the spurt of pre-cum that left his cock, to see you spread out before him.

Sniffing, and dragging one hand back through his parted hair, Kento scoffed at your look of glassy-eyed wonderment. His fingers curled through your lips until that sought-after arch graced his eyes, and you mewled again, your thighs clamping around his hips

"More than one of us can be reduced to a beast," he growled, circling your clit with calloused fingertips, "as you have insisted. I've taught you with these fingers before. Let us teach you something new; how it feels to peak upon the hands of a man."

"--o-oh god, oh god oh god--"

A bark of laughter, "--he won't help you now--"

"--oh, sir--"

"Try again."

"K-Kento!" You chastised through blinding pleasure. Kento chuckled again, intoxicated and made ruthless by it, and holding you flat by the belly as his hands worked miracles on your core.

"That's it-- good girl--"

The way he praised you had always brought you to a blush, but how he growled his praises while he fingered you to completion was another entity entirely.

Your hips rolled up, trying to fill the emptiness that his fingers alone couldn't. Your body was rendered base with pleasure, and nature's insistence that such passiveness should be used to leave your belly full of seed.

You could see that, too, in his eyes; an urge; a hunger that belied his gentle nature. In sudden clarity, you understood his cry of agony, from mere minutes before: 'Do not act as if you know what it's like to feel like an animal in fine tailoring.'

"--K-Kento, I-- I don't know if I'll-- it's too much, aches-- augh--"

Your approaching peak threatened to overwhelm you, and you squirmed and begged, though you knew not what for. Kento pinned you, with one splayed hand on your belly, and whispered you on.

"That's it-- don't be afraid...shhh, now. Good girl-- that's it-- beautiful--"

You came with thigh-clamping bursts of ecstasy, so sharp and static by the hands of another, that your belly ached and cramped with the force of the spasms. Kento's fingers slowed, massaging the pleasure out of you at length, though you could feel his body growing heavy with the weight of self-restraint.

You felt yourself twitching, crunching forwards involuntarily, with little more than broken whimpers and cries as he talked you down. Though, as clarity dawned in supple bliss, you felt he may be trying to talk himself down.

"...good...that's good, that's enough, I...I am satisfied, I..."

Kento lied to himself so exquisitely, as if he didn't palm his cock with one trembling hand. As if he hadn't pulled his shirt off to relieve the prickling heat of his skin. As if he couldn't kiss you because that, oddly, would be the intimacy that broke the dam.

You broke it for him, sitting up and wrapping your arms around his neck so he couldn't rear away from you. He tried, at first, with a grunt of surprise, gripping you by the waist. Feeling your lips against his rendered him dumb again, feral and nuzzling his nose to yours, like an addict in a field of poppies.

"Please-- I'm afraid I won't-- won't be gentle--"

"Bed," you whispered against his lips, "not alone."

Kento groaned again, cupping his hands beneath your thighs to lift you, and carry you up the narrow wooden staircase. He knew every shoeworn step in the dark; knew where the corridor dipped; knew the amount of steps between his bedroom door and yours, so many times had he paced between the two.

With his curtains un-drawn, only the cold winter moonlight lit the room. Meticulous, uniform possessions left meticulous, uniform shadows. The whole room smelled of Kento; of soft wax, leather and musk. In his room, in his arms as one leg flicked the door deftly closed behind him, felt like being brought home.

"If I show you how," Kento whispered, laying you on his bed, just to stalk you slowly up to his pillows, "will you...can I..."

You'd have said yes to anything. Without knowing exactly what Kento asked for, you nodded. He saw the absolute trust in your eyes, and stiffened, his eyes darkening with something more profound than need.

"Do you know what physical love entails?" He rumbled, nosing against your neck again, and depriving you of the first kiss you so desperately craved. "Do you know what it is, to be taken?"

You swallowed hard, feeling lead weights in your still twitching belly. You cursed the society that had sought your submission through ignorance.

"We...are supposed to fit together," you whispered, to Kento's satisfied rumble. Stil, it was not enough; you knew he would not continue past his insistent suckling of your throat, if you showed true ignorance, so you mumbled past your blushes.

"You...press yourself inside me, until...until you..."

"...go on."

"Until...you finish, like--like--"

"...like you did, on my fingers. Except, your completion simply fills my soul...metaphorically speaking. My completion fills you literally."

Your hand had trailed down his bare chest, reverent at his form, so different to your own and witnessed before only in fine art and statues. He didn't stop you as your hand trailed lower. He simply fixed you with a stare, that was half hope and half despair.

With rising breaths, you looked down between your bodies as you freed him. Animalistic relief twitched across Kento's shoulders, for the release from his confines. He groaned into your throat, husky in a way that made you throb. You longed to see his pleasure as he had seen yours.

Tentative, you grazed his length with the barest fingertips. Rigid, woody, hot, velvety, wet at the tip and so long and--

"Oh," you breathed, gripping him and feeling his heartbeat through his sex, and utterly unsure what you had expected, "feels...good--"

Kento breathed harshly, and had dropped onto his elbows above you, his face twisted in agony. He panted, fractious.

"Don't-- do not--"

Your hand flinched away, horrified for having hurt him, and he cursed, rolling off you to sit, strewn and messy and barely dressed, against the head of the bed. Your eyes fixed again on his manhood, heavy and twitching against his belly.

"I won't touch-- I'm sorry--"

"Don't stop," Kento emphasised, breathless, "don't...dont stop."

With a flush of heat in your cheeks, you understood the nature of Kento's agony, and it only made you hungrier. Crawling over him in the barest white undergown, to straddle his thighs and sit upon them, you reached out to grip him with one trembling hand again. Kento arched, moaning that rusty, desperate moan again.

"Show me? Like you do in...in the workshop."

"God, your hand is so sweet--" With his own hand, big enough to engulf yours, he wrapped around your grip to his length. Slowly, deliberately, and watching where your hands clasped around him with sweat on his brow, Kento used your hand to pump himself.

Feeling the glide of silk on iron made your core wetten and clench. Watching how Kento moaned, bucking into your joined fists and reaching up behind him to grip the pillows, was hypnotic. Within seconds, your hand had begun to move independently of his, stroking him with raw determination to witnessq his unravelling.

Kento groaned in time with your rhythmic strokes. His newly freed fist bunched, instead, at your hip, having rucked your slip aside to dimple shaking fingertips in the plush of your curves. You began to squeeze a little tighter at the tip, twisting a little, and making Kento see stars.

"Hah--haaaaah-- don't-- don'tstop-- better than any dream-- good girl, please, please--"

Your thumb swiped without warning across a bead of wetness that had seeped from the slit in his tip, and Kento swore, bucking hard enough to make you chirp and grip his thighs for purchase.

"--wait--wait-- I'll spill in your hand, wait--"

This didn't deter you; if anything, it spurred you on to faster and faster strokes. Kento writhed, sweating and gripping, and you watched the heavy balls beneath his length tighten up, and--

"--ungh--coming--don'tstop...unh--"

Kento's whole body tensed. His face fixed in divine ecstasy. You watched his length jerk in your fist with thick, warm glugs of sticky white seed. You stared, your new obsession making you want to stroke Kento's release between your folds, but you held him instead, feeling him rut into your fist to chase his high.

After what felt like a lifetime, Kento came back to earth, with a heavy chest. While lax, for now, something in the way he looked at you, kneeling above him and examining the way his release dripped down your forearm, told you he was barely sated.

"Always were a...a fast learner."

"Well, you always wrote me off as a child--"

"I did not," Kento huffed, a mortified, angry flush colouring his cheekbones, "I knew exactly the woman you were. I do not lust after girls. If I didn't separate you, I knew I would...I knew we would..."

You nodded. You had both fought to convince yourself against such inevitability. Pondering, and curiously disappointed in the aftermath of Kento's pleasure, you stroked his slippery length in your hand again.

"You're...still hard."

Kento's eyes flicked down, that animalistic hunger taking seed in his eyes again. When he spoke, it was low, and barely measured.

"It would not usually, but-- but feeling you above me, so close that I could flip you over and trap you beneath me, I--"

You felt your breath leaves your lungs at once. Kento winced, disgusted with himself, but you snatched it away before it could take root.

"Please-- I want that, please--"

"With all this seed, and more to come after I bury myself inside you, you will be with child within days," Kento spat, gripping your cum-slick wrists to stop you stroking another orgasm out of him. Kento froze; having been about to throw you off, he saw the look in your eyes. The look of willingness. That sheer determination that had taken you as his apprentice in the first place.

"You like that," he mused aloud, enraptured as you lifted your undergown away to reveal yourself in your entirety. With your wrists gripped in one broad hand, the other stroked down between your breasts, to settle, stroking, on the soft plush of belly just above your mound.

"You...like that? The thought of a part of me, growing inside you? The thought of me spilling myself so deep, it has nowhere to go but your belly?"

The thought made you lightheaded. Why? Why was the thought of the same sticky release that coated your hands, inside you instead, so alluring? Beast in fine tailoring a beast in fine tailoring a beast--

Kento rolled you over. The strength you always knew he had, carefully restrained by waistcoat and pocket chains, bore down upon you now. He kicked away his trousers, desperate to be as bare as you, and brought his sheets over his hips to bury you both in a warm little den. You shivered to feel his length rest on your belly and mound, so close to where you wanted him.

Kento shook his head, trying to see logic, "If I finish inside you-- you really will be in danger of bearing my child, you..."

His voice had faded, gobsmacked as you stroked your seed covered fingers between your folds, mulish and clipped.

"There," you snipped, "I've already covered myself in you, so that's that--"

"You are utterly feral, this is what I get for bringing a guttersnipe into my workshop--"

"--so you might as well just finish the deed, sir, because--"

Kento laughed, overjoyed by your fearless audacity. His lip curled, and he reached down again to stroke his sticky seed between your folds.

"You think that's what I meant by inside?" He pressed, so close to the entrance you had never sought to penetrate, "You think I meant here? No, my love...I meant here."

You squeaked to feel Kento press one thick finger at your entrance. You felt the briefest sting of resistance, felt yourself clench and buck. Kento stopped, and pressed a first kiss to your lips, so sweet that you rushed through a wildflower meadow in summer.

He stroked circles just inside your entrance, loosening you with the slick of his seed, and kissing you with an intimacy that felt so much more than all the sordid deeds you had stolen from each other so far.

"And when I say 'here'," Kento continued, his breathing getting heavier, "I meant deeper. Much deeper than my fingers could reach. In truth, I would rather break your maidenhood with my cock, than my fingers. Some...filthy little part of me, I think. I loathe it. But, since we are well past being dishonest with each other..."

"Want that, please--" you babbled, squeaking with the promise of being filled with the rod you felt dragging on your belly, "--please, do it, I need to know, need you--"

"You beg like you mean to corrupt," Kento grumbled, pressing a little harder against your entrance and shivering as you squeaked, "I was a good man before this...I think. Shhhh, shh shh...that's it...soften you up...good girl."

"Not a girl," you gasped, your voice breaking and your nails digging into Kento's shoulders. He laughed, a full, rich, deep laugh of genuine delight. He pressed a kiss to your forehead as his fingers were replaced by his cockhead.

"You are right," he rumbled, nuzzling his nose to yours again, "you're certainly not. At least...you won't be, in a moment." Nose to nose with you, and whispering into your mouth, Kento pressed insistently forwards, "Hold onto me."

You did, feeling a brief sting, and stretched and stretched and stretched and--...full. You whimpered, bringing your legs around Kento to embrace all of him to you. He grunted, and gasped, pulled to bottom out within you, when he had meant to take you slowly. You clung him inside you as he moved to pull out, and begged, afraid it was already over.

"Nonono-- don't come out-- stay--"

Kento bucked into you involuntarily, and groaned a godless sound, arching up and gripping the headboard, white-knuckled.

"Got to-- got to move, to-- to finish...but at this rate--Christ, you'll kill me-- god, can't-- can't finish straight away like a boy--"

If the pleasure of being locked into the warm, wet drag of your pussy hadn't almost taken Kento to the edge, the way you looked up at him with glassy adoration would. He moaned again, another certain stepping stone to damnation.

One more glance at you had Kento planting one forearm above your head, and plaiting his fingers with yours upon the pillow. He gasped, trying not to take you too roughly, and finally, whispered again.

"Hold onto me."

Smooth, and fluid, and with the barest scraps of self control, you saw stars to feel Kento drag his cock back to your entrance, only to fill you again. You felt the thickfriction drag, and its bursts of belly-deep pleasure than rendered you oddly submissive. You revelled in it; drugged, and sighing, your eyes slipping closed.

The drunken animal in Kento had returned in force.

"...feels...weird...good--- don't stop, Ken--"

"--sh-shit, won't last-- I'm sorry--"

Kento watched you in wonderment. Whatever pleasure your ripe core gave him, could not compare to that given to him by your face; your mewls, and sighs, and whispers.

You couldn't seem to whisper his name, though; it tasted so sweet upon your tongue, that you could not bear to let it go.

You could feel Kento losing his ragged self-control. Watching your face, the plush bounce of your breasts, and the way your thighs spread against your belly every time he fucked into you, was an otherworldly delight. You took it; gladly. Your pleasure built strangely-- deeper, and more powerful, and yet not quite enough.

Your fingers sauntered down your belly. In your addled, fucked-into state, you barely noticed what you were doing. Kento noticed, though, and growled, a droplet of sweat dropping from his forehead between your breasts. His thrusts deepened, harder and faster and desperate for orgasm.

"F-fuck...just like that...just like you do at night-- my name--"

"Ke...Ken--"

"My name."

"Kento," you half-sobbed, lost in his promise to fill you with the sticky cum that had dropped down your hand, "please--pleasepleaseplease--"

"--the begging, fuck, I'm-- I'm done, I'm-- ungh, fuck--"

You knew Kento must be finishing. You felt him twitching, and jerking, within the snug gripping heat of your cunt, ruined by him as per his promise. You felt the curious warm spill somewhere deep inside you.

You knew the look of bliss upon his face. Your fingers, still rolling the remnants of his seed around your clit, moved faster and faster and faster--

You arched, seconds after Kento's own peak had begun, into your own. You heard the headboard crack under Kento's grip, heard the rhythmic, fractured moans that may have been his and may have been yours, too lost were you both in oblivion.

The world may have completed one full turn. Struggling to hold himself up, Kento shook, dopey and half-asleep after filling you as he had threatened. You locked him within you, and held him like a lead blanket, nuzzling into his throat.

"Just...stay there. Stay. I like it."

"That feels...indecent," Kento mumbled into your neck. His uncharacteristic colloquialism was winding back again, and you felt the clipped man in the waistcoat and pocket chain returning to earth. You whispered, to his devilish laugh.

"How are we supposed to make watches together after that?"

"Carefully. Very, very carefully. As husband and wife."

"...oh."

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mika-no-sekai-blog · 1 day ago

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One bed

Azriel x reader

Word count: 3000+

Summary: Due to unforeseen circumstances, you end up in the same room as Azriel

Warnings: none

I'd love to say I have solved the Frozen thingy, but I haven't yet. I've started writing part 3 and that's where I stopped because of the madness around. I was so close to making a solid plan for it. Unfortunately, the work happened, then Christmas at work baking f***ing chicken farm. Then husband got fever🙄and he couldn't live without getting someone else sick as well, so now son has high fever too and I'm the last one somehow surviving here. At least I have whole week of holidays next week. I hoped to relax and write more, but we'll see. Wish me luck🥴

Anyway here's something small and not so angsty that just popped up suddenly. Hope you enjoy it.

And for everyone who celebrate, have a peaceful holiday 💕

"I thought I've reserved enough rooms," Rhysand sighed. The last hour he was talking with the owner of the inn we were staying at, trying all possible tactics to persuade him to find us one more room. Impossible task from the very beginning as the inn was full.

We were on non-official official mission. At first, there were only six of us supposed to go as Amren declined, intending to stay with Mor in Velaris, protecting it. However, the two of them had yet another quarrel recently, which led to Amren suddenly appearing with a packed bag in hand a few seconds before intended departure. Nobody, not even Rhys, had balls to tell her no. And that's why we ended up in this situation. Rhys had everything perfectly planned, as usual, but he couldn't have known this would happen. And now we were one room short, but again - nobody dared to tell aloud whose fault it was. Amren was like hungry bulldog, ready to tear to shreds anyone and anything at the best of her days. Now, she was pissed off.

Feyre and Nesta took their keys, Feyre giving me an apologetic look. From the start, they were supposed to share rooms with their mates. This was also kind of vacation for us, so it was only logical they wanted to be with their partners.

That left Rhys with last two keys in hand. Amren snatched one and without looking at anyone or even a small mumbled sorry, she left. We exchanged look and whole group finally relaxed.

"Sorry," Feyre murmured as she headed to her room with sorrowful expression.

Before she left, Nesta gazed at me with silent question and I nodded. I would be fine, for sure. Cassian winked at me as he followed her. They both knew about the feelings I had for Azriel for quite some time, each supporting me in their own way. At this point, probably everyone around knew, except for the mentioned Shadowsinger and I didn't plan to be the one to break the news. I knew my limits and he was off them.

Rhys turned to me and Azriel with sorrowful expression, brows furrowed. "I'm sorry, Az, but you know.. Ladies first," he offered me the last key. Spymaster didn't even as much as blink, no protests at all. He looked as his usual self, unbothered by the problem at the hand.

"Thankies," I smiled, took the key and looped hand to Azriel's arm. "Come."

They both opened mouth in surprise, none of them expecting this from me. Rhys recovered as first.

"Enjoy yourself," he smirked and I rolled my eyes.

"Ha ha ha, how funny," I stuck out tongue at him. He chuckled and hurried after his mate, leaving the two of us alone. I raised brow at Shadowsinger who was still too shocked to speak. He didn't even notice Rhys' teasing.

"What? Did you think I would let you sleep on roof or what?"

"B-b-but," he stammered, his cheeks dusted with pink.

"No buts. Come!" I had to pull reluctant Azriel down the hallway.

"I can try another inn-"

"Nonsense! You would miss all the fun. Plus, I really don't mind. We are friends after all. I have nothing to be afraid of, right?"

I came to a sudden stop, realizing something.

"Wait! You mind staying with me in the same room?"

Before, it didn't occur to me that he could be against. I thought we were getting along pretty well, given the fact that we tended to seek out each other's company, sitting together and talking. The two of us even often hung out in the city, venturing cafes and bakeries. I thought he liked to spend time with me, but it could be only my mistaken impression. I knew I couldn't hope for more than friendship and I was fine with that as long as I could be close to him. He could feel differently though.

"No!" he hurried with an answer, eyes wide. "No, nothing like that. It's just.."

"What is it?"

"It's just.. you are female and I'm male."

I was so relieved to hear that, that I wanted to laugh, but I didn't. "That means that you will pounce on me like an animal as soon as door close?"

He flushed fiercely, averting his eyes. "You know I will do no such a thing. It just means that you might be uncomfortable because of that."

"I'm fine. Believe me," I said softly and took his hand. "So come on, silly."

He chuckled and this time, he willingly followed me.

The room, we got, was quite a nice one for an old inn, but it was rather smaller one. Most of the space was occupied by bed big enough to accommodate Illyrian wings. It was one of the reasons Rhysand chose this place, thinking about the comfort of his brothers. We were supposed to spend here whole week, maybe longer, so it was necessary.

Except of bed, there was only small table with two old chairs, hearth and connected bathroom.

After we settled down, the air had somehow thickened, both of us suddenly embarrassed. And so I did what I could to lighten the atmosphere a bit, but every try for a conversation died out soon after it started. At last, I gave up.

"It was long day," I stretched out, all my joints making a satisfying cracking sound and Azriel grimaced. He didn't like when I did it. "I'm tired. Do you want to use the bathroom as first?"

"No, go ahead," he offered and started to line up on table all the daggers he had on him. I paused and watched him, amazed. How could he hide so many? I thought he had only two, max three. He noticed me and smiled shyly.

"I'll clean them while you take shower. Don't worry, I'll put them away afterwards."

"I don't mind them at all," I mumbled, ashamed I got caught. "I'm just stunned you managed to sneak in the whole arsenal. Seeing it now, I would bet that not only do you have one for each of us but also even one spare."

At that he finally laughed, the rich sound warming my heart. I already missed that sound. Corners of my mouth curled into satisfied smile and I quickly gathered all necessary things and went to the bathroom.

When I came out, the daggers were gone from the table. Azriel was seated on the same chair he occupied since we came, pyjama in hands. He was staring into space, looking somehow troubled. Shadows gathered around his ear and he looked up at me, faking smile. Without a word, he stood up and hurried to the bathroom.

While I was waiting, I shoved my used underwear to the bottom of my bag and climbed to the bed, snuggling up in a warm blanket. It was quite cold here, old window hardly blocking the cold wind from outside.

Azriel took quite long to finish. By the time bathroom door creaked open, I was almost asleep. He rustled around for a while and adding big log to the fire, he turned off lights. I waited. The room went completely silent.

I opened eyes. "Are you kidding me," I sat up, sighing. "Az, I thought, we already talked it out." I glared into a dark corner by the hearth.

"Don't worry about me and sleep," he replied from his place on the old chair.

"You can't sleep on that old crap. It will most likely give in soon." The only answer was silence.

"C'mon, Az. It won't do you any good if you're sleep-deprived. To none of us in fact. What if something happens and you won't be able to fight because you are too tired and sore?"

Again silence.

"Do you want me to help you to the bed? I warn you, I'm going to drag you here not by arm but by ear this time."

He chuckled. His wings rustled and mattress dipped under his weight. "Fine then. Have it your way."

I tucked him in like a small child, mindful of his wings and settled down, heart pounding in my throat.

"That wasn't necessary."

"Believe me it was. And don't try to fake it. I'm light sleeper. I will know if you get up in the middle of the night."

"Fine, fine." He sounded amused. He was lying on his back, wings folded and tugged close to his body.

"Relax. The bed is enough big for both of us. Even if you touch me. I'm not made of sugar, I won't melt into puddle," I assured him as I curled up on my side of bed with back to him, taking as little space as possible so he had enough comfort. He made a sound at the back of his throat.

I thought I wouldn't be able to sleep at all with him being so close. But as bed warmed up with his presence and his calming scent wrapped around me as another blanket, I fell asleep in no time.

* * *

Azriel didn't even blink an eye. He was just lying there, stretched on his back, gazing at ceiling. He wasn't used to falling asleep next to someone. After she reassured him, he relaxed a bit but only his body. He was too nervous and excited at the same time. He was scared to even breath, not wanting to wake her up. How could she sleep so soundly? Didn't she feel the same? Didn't his presence stir her nerves?

Shadows curled on pillow near his ear, whispering. They described him in detail how she drifted off with sweet smile on her lips. Smile that she was still wearing. He wished he could see it with his own eyes.

He dared to turn his head to the side to watch her back, her shoulder slightly rising with every breath. Even at place like this in the middle of nowhere, she kept smelling like field of spring flowers, delicate and sweet. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the moment.

He felt so lucky right now and thanked the Mother for sending Amren at last minute, giving him this opportunity. For years, he was trying to get closer to Y/N. No matter how many times, he was ready to tell her about his feelings, he always gave up in the end, not daring to even suggest it. She was everything he wasn't, beautiful, kind and perfect. She deserved better.

He watched her entire night, mesmerized. It was strange. She was always so energetic during the day, yet at night she didn't move at all. It made him wonder whether it was because of him or it was normal.

It was after the sunrise when he finally calmed down and dozed off for hour or two.

* * *

Three days later, a knock sounded on our door. We were just finishing off the lasts of our breakfast. We looked up in time to see Rhysand's head peeking in. He held hand over his eyes with sassy smirk on his lips.

"Can I come in? I wouldn't like to see something inappropriate."

I rolled my eyes while Azriel bid him in, unaffected by his teasing. Honestly, everyone was making fun of us for no reason. After the first night, Nesta pulled me aside to ask me how it went and how I felt. I had nothing to tell her. At least nothing interesting anyway. I slept like a baby and not only the first night, but every night after.

Every evening, Azriel dutifully took his side of bed and I curled up on mine. No touching, only a pleasant small chat between friends. It was noticeable that he didn't sleep much the first night, however after that, he didn't seem to have such troubles. I was glad for that.

"I came to inform you that finally one more room is available. If you want, one of you can take it," he grinned and waited for our reply with one brow raised.

Out of the corner of eye, I looked at Azriel who was already eyeing me with unreadable expression. It seemed he wouldn't speak and it was up to me to decide.

"Well.. I don't mind to share room with Az at all. But if you'd like to have your privacy.." I turned to him.

His eyes widened slightly and his lips moved without making a sound.

"I don't mind, too," he managed.

"So," Rhys dragged the word. "You want to stay together? Really?"

We nodded as one man, not willing to give him what he hoped for. He was visibly disappointed.

"Fine then," he sighed, "as you want. I'll inform the owner."

* * *

A week later we were so used to this situation and each other's presence that we returned to our usual selves, rambling about anything, laughing, even touching lightly.

Our mission was over and this was our last night of sharing room. Azriel was spread on bed next to me, his wing gently touching my back. I was slowly falling asleep while we did small talk. Somewhere between dream and reality I got idea. Crazy as it was, my sleepy brain didn't find anything strange or wrong with it and my body acted on its own.

With closed eyes I rolled to his side, wrapped arm around his waist and rested my head on his chest. Azriel made a surprised sound and stiffened, but he didn't try to push me away. His smell filled my nose, his warmth seeping into me. Frantic but steady melody of his heart lulled me deeper into sleep. Last thing I felt before I completely drifted off, was his body relaxing under me and his arm holding me close.

* * *

Azriel was so surprised, he couldn't think straight. What was happening? He touched Y/N lightly, yet she didn't mind. She was almost asleep, relaxed and seemingly comfortable with him as her pillow. He felt her smiling into his chest and that gave him courage to wrap his hands around her. She hummed with satisfaction and dozed off completely.

Azriel gazed at her, unsure what to think or feel. Naturally, it made him happy, a dream-come-true kind of situation, but was it really okay? Was it really happening? It seemed to him just like a figment of his imagination, fed by amazing week spent by her side, so close to her.

He pinched himself, really painfully, leaving a bruise on his forearm. It was real. He swallowed hard. Slowly small smile spread on his face. He could get used to this.

When the initial surprise and embarrassment had passed, he found himself enjoying this. His heart was pounding fast, as he touched her hair and pushed them aside to see her face. He couldn't help it and traced a single finger down her face and jaw, mapping her full lips, lovely nose and soft arches of her brows.

He chuckled lightly. Y/N didn't even stir. So much to a light-sleeper.

As he watched her, his fantasy took over, offering him all kinds of imaginary situations that could lead to them ending up in this position; from innocent snuggling together for the night to them being naked, covered in sweat and spent after good sex. His heart squeezed in pain. He loved it and wanted it all. He didn't even realize that he was tugging her closer and closer, holding her so firmly there was no space left between them.

Despite everything, the scenario of innocent snuggling immediately became his favourite one. It held a certain kind of peace and warmth, something he longed for the most. He kept replaying it again and again until he fell asleep, too. The fantasy followed him even to his dreams where it became so real that it was unbearable.

* * *

I woke up unusually early at dawn. Still drowsy I looked around, not comprehending where I was. I was warm and comfy, so ready to close my eyes again, until I notice rising and falling steady flesh under me. That completely woke me up.

I looked up, finding Azriel still fast asleep. He was smiling sweetly, yet the tears rolled down his cheeks, soft whimpers leaving his lips. My chest tightened at the sight. It hurt me to see him like this. I reached up and gently wiped the tears off.

He slowly opened eyes and looked at me, still smiling.

"Good morning," I whispered.

"'Morning, Y/N," he replied, his deep voice raspy in the most sexy way. His thumb started to move up and down my waist in soothing motion.

"Bad dreams?"

"Sometimes dreams can be so beautiful that they make one cry," he murmured. He sounded so sad that I felt like crying too. Instead, I placed both of my hands on his chest and rested my chin on top of them.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I searched his eyes.

He shook his head and wiped off the rest of his tears. "I just wish I could go back and keep having the same dream for the rest of my life," he sighed, his eyes never leaving my face.

I propped up on my elbow and caressed his cheek. "You know that dreams don't have to stay dreams. They can became reality if you want them to."

His eyes widened and he swallowed hard. He seemed to be thinking very hard about something. Determination filled his eyes and he lifted up his head, stopping an inch from my face, waiting.

It was so sudden that I held my breath, but I didn't pull away. Watching me closely, Azriel leaned even closer and his lips lightly grazed over mine. I moaned, my body acting on its own. My eyes closed and I firmly pressed my lips to his. All the years of my suppressed feelings poured into this one kiss, not believing that there would be any more. He groaned and opened up, slowly moving, testing the waters. His fingers dug into flesh of my waist, holding me impossibly close.

It ended as suddenly as it started. He reluctantly broke the kiss and rested his forehead against mine, heaving.

"I want it to become real."

#azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel fluff #azriel x you #azriel #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #acotar fanfiction #sarah j maas #acotar x reader

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dahlibae · 1 day ago

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— ౨ৎ : how would wanda react if you wanted to call her mommy?

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Well at first, Wanda might be a little taken aback, not because she’s judgmental or anything, but because she’s such an emotionally intuitive and deeply caring person that she’d want to fully understand where you’re coming from. She knew you had a complicated relationship with your mother, you still do, and she knew how you could be in your relationship. You were innately submissive; always willing to follow or do whatever she said with little to not questioning. It was clear you trusted her. She had also noticed whenever you were struggling, you’d rely on her comfort and affection to bring you out of your funk. No self comfort would work, just Wanda’s soft touch and sweet words.

Her initial reaction would likely involve a lot of gentle questions—her Sokovian accent softening as she asks, "what makes you want this, my love? … does it make you feel closer to me?" She’d want to ensure that it’s about trust and intimacy rather than anything that might make you feel uncomfortable or disconnected. And to be honest, Wanda wasn’t opposed to the idea of being your mommy. She loved taking care of you, and she loved to baby you. Being the oldest sibling and only daughter, it was in her nature to be the more caring partner.

Once you both come to the conclusion that this was something you genuinely wanted to explore together, she’d approach it thoughtfully and tenderly. For Wanda, it was all about the emotional connection, so she’d take the time to research this kind of relationship. She’d even sit you down one evening, and ask you your opinion on this, what you like and don’t like, ensuring everything is consensual and safe. You had told how her you wanted her to be your mommy during bedroom activities and also outside of sex, but you didn’t want it to be as routine as it usually is for people partaking in this. You didn’t want to always call her mommy, just when you were feeling small and needed her to comfort you. She understood immediately, having researched on MDLG as well as other people’s boundaries with the kink. She noted this thought down, a reminder to always be careful and patient during a vulnerable moment like this, making sure she doesn’t mistaken your behaviour as a call sign for this kind of play.

No matter what, she’d want you to feel safe.

Don’t get me wrong, she’d likely be shy about the idea at first, blushing subtly as she tries to have a straightforward conversation with you who was always blushing, but her curiosity and desire to make you happy would win out. She wanted to do this for you—and for her. Plus, the images that would flash through her mind of you underneath her, unable to form coherent sentences as she fucked you silly or the ones of her held you close in her arms, cradling your head as you suckled on her chest helped.

But in practice, Wanda would strike the perfect balance of playful experimentation and her inherently nurturing side. She might even tease you with a flicker of her magic—a gentle red glow brushing against your skin—while whispering those familiar soft reassurances that she loves how good you are for her, and how mommy loves her little girl. Wanda’s ability to multitask with her powers would definitely add a unique layer of creativity, but only in ways you’re both comfortable with and have discussed beforehand.

Ultimately, I think her priority would be your emotional and physical well-being, and she’d by either Wanda, your girlfriend, or Wanda, your mommy, whenever you needed. She’d make it clear that if at any point it became too much or you felt uncertain, you could stop immediately. Or if you needed more from her, more of mommy, you could have her. Always. “You’re my everything,” she’d say, holding you close as she guided your face into the crook of her neck, “and mommy loves you so much.”

#dahlibae fics! ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you

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jayniks · 18 hours ago

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SEX NOTE (s.jy)

Your friend is jealous that, thanks to the book that HE gave you, you no longer pay attention to him, so he writes to you in that notebook in a fit of jealousy.

WC . 4,0k

PAIRING . childhoodfriend!jake x afab!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), jealousy, Jay showing up, rudeness, Jay bothering you at first, awkwardness, Jake butting into your room.

SMUT WARNINGS . oral sex (f receiving), lots of kisses, assjob(idk if it's called that), manhandling, spanking, voyeurism (kinda), creampie.

< go back . next chapter >

Maybe it was a mistake coming home early, after all, no one wants to watch their childhood friend get fucked, specifically not jerk off to it either. Well, Jake is a nobody. He froze as he watched you get fucked from behind, though you two seemed pretty busy since you didn’t see or hear him come in. Jake would be lying if he said he didn’t just keep watching and spy on you.

The tent in his pants grew with every second he spent looking at you. Yeah, maybe you weren't moaning HIS name but something similar, so his imagination did the rest thinking you were saying it. He brought his hand inside his pants to 'caress' himself, thus releasing some tension that was coming from there. His palm ran up and down, applying pressure in certain places, feeling bigger with each squeeze. God, what a pervert.

Jake's heart raced as he unzipped his pants, the soft fabric rustling against his fingers, stirring up his lust, but also his guilt. He couldn't help but feel guilty for spying on and nearly pleasuring himself with his childhood friend and roommate. "This is wrong," he thought, "but damn it feels so good."

He leaned back on the doorknob just enough to peek out and see the scene I described in my previous post (lol, self-promotion??? Yeah) while he unzipped his pants quietly enough to not be heard, although I don't think anyone was going to hear him with how loud your moans were.

Well, I won't digress any further, Jake guided his thumb and index finger delicately from the base to the tip to wrap them around where it started. He proceeded to wrap the rest of his hand around what was left of the shaft to begin his downward and upward movements on his member, almost in rhythm with Jay's thrusts. His imagination was in charge of making his movements resemble those of your partner to fantasize that it was HIM who was fucking you.

Jake's breathing came in ragged gasps with each rhythmic stroke, matching the erotic sounds from the next room. His mind raced, imagining every position his friend was in would be him doing it, fueling the fire of desire burning within him. "I'm being selfish," he thought, guilt eating away at him as he continued to pleasure himself, though the guilt wasn't enough to keep his hand away from his cock. With each movement Jake felt himself getting closer to his release, he could feel the tension in his balls, a sensation that spread throughout his groin like wildfire. With a sharp inhale and biting down on his fist, a hot stream erupted from the tip of his twitching member. His body shuddered, feeling weak and spent as he finally calmed down.

After that, Jake's chest heaved as he caught his breath. He felt a mix of relief and embarrassment, his gaze fixed on the door to the next room. 'Holy shit's' echoed in his mind, his hand still wrapped around his exhausted member. I think the post-nut clarity hit him hard enough that he ran out grabbing things off the floor and leaving the apartment.

Shitty book, this was all his fault. Well, technically it was his fault, he had given the book to his friend after finding it on the floor, he could have kept it himself and been the one to stick it up to whoever crossed his mind, but he preferred to give it to his best friend... oh, that sounds like jealousy. Although Jake obviously wasn't jealous, no no. If he was jealous, would he have a problem with using the notebook he found himself? Perhaps—

Ding!

This gave him an idea, it was like for the first time in a long time he was thinking with his cock and his brain at the same time. He went back to his shared apartment and sat on the couch waiting for his friend in silence, after all, it was his right as the 'owner' of the notebook.

It didn't take you long to go downstairs to get a glass of water, although of course, it took you a while to get down the stairs without staggering. When you turned around you saw Jake sitting on the couch with a playful look on his face, you were about to ask why he was there when he spoke first — "I bought the wrong ticket, at the end it was for next week, although I arrived a little tired, what about you?", smiling with a mischief unknown to you. You couldn't help but frown at his answer. Something in his tone made you hesitate, but your body was too sore to think clearly. The throbbing pain in your gut and the small temblors in your legs made anything, even a conversation with Jake, seem like a monumental task.

“Are you sure it was a mistake?” you asked hoarsely, surprising yourself with how you said it, so you brought a hand to your forehead to pretend your state was due to something more. He shrugged, smiling with the same carefree expression as always while fiddling with the hem of his jacket. “Well, let’s just say I wanted to spend some time with you too. Is that wrong?”

It took a few seconds for your mind to process his words. Something in his tone, in his smile, made you feel a pang of unease, but the pain in your muscles clouded any attempt at analysis. — "Jake, I'm not in the mood for jokes. I feel horrible, I feel like I'm overwhelmed." He let out a small laugh and stood up from the chair with an almost rehearsed movement. — "You know what would help you? Going out for some fresh air. A short walk. I swear it feels like magic for your overwhelm."

You leaned against the doorway to the kitchen, eyes narrowed. “I don’t even have the strength to go down the stairs, much less go outside.” Jake approached with slow, almost calculated steps. He placed a hand on your shoulder, and although the gesture seemed friendly, there was something in his gaze that you couldn’t decipher. “Trust me, okay? Just a few minutes outside, and I promise that when you come back you’ll feel better. Besides, I can prepare something in the meantime.”

The convincing tone in his voice, mixed with your exhaustion, made you let your guard down a bit. Maybe you did need some fresh air, or at least a few minutes away from the world you had created in your room. With a heavy sigh and no energy left to argue, you accepted his proposal. Jake helped you put on a light jacket, making sure to arrange it carefully on your shoulders.

— "Just a few minutes," you promised, as you slipped on your shoes, swaying slightly. He held your arm with unexpected gentleness, smiling a smile that seemed sincere. — "Exactly, don't strain yourself too much. I'll be here waiting when you get back." You saw him open the door with an almost theatrical gesture, bowing slightly as if you were a queen crossing a threshold. Despite the pain in and out your body, you let out a soft laugh. Jake stood in the doorway, watching you disappear down the street with a relaxed expression... until you were far enough away.

He closed the door with a soft click, and all the kindness on his face vanished. His eyes took on a calculating gleam, and his lips curved into a half-smile. Wasting no time, he ran for the stairs, taking them two steps at a time until he reached your room. When he opened the door, he was met with the chaos you’d expect after fucking. The bed was unmade, with the sheets hanging almost to the floor, as if someone had fought a battle, only instead of blood it was other fluids. A nightstand was cluttered with napkins, string, and candy wrappers. The desk on the other side was just as chaotic: a crumpled pile of papers, a carelessly closed laptop, and a couple of uncapped pens rolling off the edge.

On the shelf, between books and small stuffed animals, there were albums and boxes that looked like they had been put up in a hurry. Some posters of your favorite singers adorned the walls, slightly crooked, as if they had been put up a long time ago and no one had bothered to adjust them. On the floor, clothes lay in piles; some items still looked clean, but others clearly needed to be torn off in a hurry. Oh freaky you.

Jake moved quickly, checking every corner. He started with the desk, picking up papers and moving the laptop carefully. Nothing. He frowned and moved to the nightstand, opening drawers and rummaging impatiently. Nope, also nothing. Finally, his eyes landed on the bed. “Sure, the usual one,” he muttered to himself, pulling back the sheets and searching through the folds. It took him a few minutes, but he finally found what he was looking for: the black notebook. The Sex Note. He held it in his hands, looking at it like it was a newly won trophy. His fingers slid across the cover, caressing the letters etched into it.

— “So here it was…” — he sighed, letting a grim smile cross his face. His eyes shone with a mix of triumph and darkness. The kind expression he had shown you before vanished completely, replaced by something much more sinister. He opened the notebook slowly, flipping through the first few pages as a barely contained laugh escaped his throat. His mind was already beginning to make plans, he coul keep the notebook permanently- IS THAT THE NAME OF HIS FAVOURITE SINGER? — "Damn, Heeseung? I guess you really wanted your 'y/n' moment," he whispered to himself, closing the notebook with a thud and staring at the door, as if he could see you there, vulnerable and defenseless. He knew that tonight would be the start of something much bigger... probably.

You returned home after a long walk, feeling much better. The fresh air had cleared your mind and soothed your headache, though you still felt slightly dizzy. As you opened the door, the warm aroma of food enveloped you like a comforting welcome. Jake was in the kitchen, stirring something in a pan. Hearing you enter, he looked up and gave you a smile that seemed too perfect, almost as if he had been rehearsing it. — "You’re just in time. I thought some hot food would do you good.” You blinked, surprised by the gesture. “You cooking? Since when are you so considerate?”

He chuckled softly, serving the contents of the pan onto two plates. “Don’t get used to it. I’m just being a good friend.” You sat down at the table as he placed a plate of rice and stir-fried chicken in front of you, accompanied by hot tea. Even though you didn’t have much of an appetite, you decided to eat, silently thanking him for the effort he had made.

Silence filled the room, interrupted only by the sound of silverware and the news on the television. A female voice said in a serious tone, “Singer Lee Heeseung, known for his outstanding career, has reported feeling unwell over the past few days. Close sources say the artist also mentioned experiencing a strange episode of memory loss, stating, “It’s like I forgot an entire day.”

Your fingers paused on your fork, and you felt a strange pang of nervousness in your chest. You looked at the screen, but it didn’t show any more details. The news quickly changed to another topic, but you couldn’t get that information out of your head. Jake, on the other hand, continued eating calmly. Well, at least until you heard him laugh. It was a low, almost restrained sound, as if he was trying not to let it out completely. You looked up at him, frowning. “What are you laughing at?” you asked, puzzled.

He lowered his fork, still covering his mouth as if to hold back his laughter, though he couldn't quite hide the malice in his expression. — "Nothing, nothing..." —he answered at first, but his tone only made you feel more uneasy. You set the fork down on the table with a soft thud, looking directly at him. Finally, he looked up at you, and though his smile was still on his face, his eyes had a gleam that you couldn't interpret.

— "You'll understand in a few hours." His answer left you silent. A feeling of unease ran through you like a chill, but Jake simply resumed his food, as if he hadn't just said something that left you with more questions than answers.

The awkwardness lingered as they finished eating in silence. Jake, acting surprisingly helpful, stood up first and began clearing away the plates. “Leave it, I’ll wash them,” he said with a carefree smile, taking everything over to the sink. You hesitated for a moment, but eventually relented. “Okay, thanks…” you mumbled, still distracted by what had just happened at the table.

Taking advantage of the fact that he was busy, you decided to quickly go up to your room. Your head was still reeling from the feeling that something wasn't right. When you opened the door, a shock ran through you from head to toe: the mess was even worse than when you had left it. Clothes that had previously been piled up in a corner were now thrown all over the floor; the papers on your desk were more jumbled than ever, some had even fallen to the floor; and the sheets on your bed were wrinkled in a way you didn't remember leaving them.

Someone had been there.

Your heart began to pound as your eyes darted around the room. That’s when you remembered: the notebook. You ran to the bed, frantically searching through the sheets and pillows. Then you moved to the desk, throwing papers to the floor in search of the one item that couldn’t be missing. Panic grew with every corner you searched without success. When you stopped, out of breath, your gaze drifted to the wall next to your desk. There, stuck in a disturbing order, were two post-its. You frowned as you moved closer to read them.

The first one said in large, clear letters:

"You're fucked."

The second, just below, added:

"Literally."

You froze for a moment. Those had Jay’s signature on them. No like, he had literally put his signature in the corner of the 2nd note. You shook your head, trying to calm yourself, and reached out to rip the post-its off the wall, but a sound behind you stopped you. “Did you find what you were looking for?” Jake’s voice, soft and controlled, echoed from the doorway. You turned immediately, feeling the air grow thicker. Jake was there, leaning against the door frame with an expression that was a mix of amusement and something darker. In his hands, he held the black notebook.

Your heart skipped a beat. “Is this what you were so worried about?” he asked calmly, lifting the notebook just a little for emphasis. His smile was unsettling, almost mocking, and his eyes seemed to watch you with an intensity that made you feel naked. You didn’t know what to answer. You just stood there, paralyzed, as Jake slowly entered the room, closing the door behind him.

Jake tossed the notebook towards you in a casual motion, as if it were any ordinary notebook. The black object landed on the mattress right in front of you, and though you wanted to remain calm, your hands shook slightly as you reached for it. “Read it,” he ordered, his tone firm, but with a hint of mischievous amusement. You frowned, your gaze alternating between him and the notebook. Reluctantly, you opened it, your eyes scanning the words written in impeccably neat handwriting:

"Exactly at 21:28, (____) will be in her room, nervous about hearing news about heeseung, and then start feeling inexplicably hot".

You paused, feeling your face begin to heat up. You forced yourself to look at Jake, who now had a grin so wide that his eyes seemed to sparkle with pure mischief.

— "What does this mean?" you asked, your voice coming out more breathy than you would have liked. Jake shrugged, taking a couple of steps towards you as he shoved his hands into his pockets. — "It means exactly what you read," he replied matter-of-factly. "You just have to wait, right?" His tone was light, but there was something in his expression that made you feel like you were being part of a game whose true terms you didn't know.

Just like how it was described, your body temperature began to rise, especially in the middle of your thighs. You tried to cover it up by sitting up on the bed, but your best friend sat down next to you. He leaned in just slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. You could feel the weight of his gaze, as if he was stripping away every thought you were trying to hide. “Are you going to keep pretending you don’t know what’s going on?” he murmured, his voice deep and almost hypnotic. The distance between you both seemed to shrink with every word, and even though you wanted to move, something kept you anchored in place.

“W-what are you doing?” you asked in a whisper, air escaping your lips as your eyes locked with his. “Using the notebook I found, what else?” he replied with an eerie calm, his words accompanied by a smile that seemed to hold more secrets than you were prepared to hear. His hand slid gently down your cheek, and though you wanted to pull away, you found yourself unable to move, trapped by the intensity of his gaze. Your breathing became ragged, and before you could even process what you were doing, your fingers closed around his, guiding him in a movement that lit a dangerous spark in his eyes.

The change in his expression was almost imperceptible, but when his lips found yours, they did so with a softness that took you by surprise. The kiss was slow, almost reverent, but every movement of his mouth against yours carried an unspoken promise, one that you felt in every fiber of your being.

A soft sigh escaped you as his hands found your waist, laying you down with a gentleness that contrasted with the intensity you felt growing in the air. When his lips left yours, a momentary chill took over you, but it was replaced by the heat of his kisses descending down your neck, each one leaving an invisible mark that seemed to burn into your skin. The brush of his face against the fabric of your shirt made your breathing stop for an instant. Everything about him seemed calculated, but also inevitable, as if each of his movements were written in advance... oh right, he wrote them.

Even though his kisses felt like heaven and you loved feeling like a delicate doll, there was a part of you that was calling out to him, that was crying out for him. You leaned on his shoulders and applied a little pressure to get him to move down, eliciting a playful giggle from him, granting your request. He kissed the band of your panties before pulling them back with his mouth, a gesture that made you giggle softly and then caress his cheek, a laugh that turned into a breathy sigh when his tongue came into contact with your clit. You threw your head back as his head moved closer to your core, kissing and sucking on everything he could.

You felt his gaze even though you couldn't keep your eyes open for long. Jake felt this as approval to stick two of his fingers inside you while he sucked on your clit, making you scream even louder than you already were. Your sounds and movements only made Jake smile more, who couldn't hide it, nor could he hide the sighs of satisfaction he let out every time he swallowed a bit of your essence, which made him look like a prisoner enjoying his last meal.

It didn't take you long to reach your climax with all the effort your friend was putting into it, and boy was it a powerful orgasm, because you tried to push him away complaining that "it was too much", but he buried himself further into your cunt until you couldn't take it anymore and you released, wetting his face and almost drowning him a bit in the process, despite him insisting that he didn't want to pull away.

You sigh deeply, your breathing still ragged from the intense orgasm you just had. You gently caress Jake’s cheeks, looking into his eyes with a mix of satisfaction and desire. “That didn’t seem scripted,” you whisper with a mischievous smile on your lips. Pulling him close, you kiss him passionately, savoring your own taste in his mouth. Jake kisses you back with the same intensity, pulling you closer to his body, making your tongues dance together as if they already knew each other.

His hands begin to explore your body eagerly, caressing every curve and corner. He stops especially at your ass, squeezing and massaging your buttocks with desire, he gently pinches your skin feeling the silky texture of your flesh. "You are fucking delicious" — Jake says as he breaks away from the kiss, a mischievous smile on his lips, — "I love your ass, it's perfect," he growls in a hoarse voice of desire. "I want to see it closer" — he sighs as his hands guide your body until you are forced to get on all fours for him, exposing your ass in all its splendor. "You are a goddess, (___), I could admire this ass forever" - Jake murmurs, giving you a soft spank that echoes in the room.

You smirk as you move back a little to rub your ass against his clothed erection, biting your lip when you hear his ragged breathing as his hands caress your waist. Jake wastes no time in freeing himself from his imprisonment called “clothes”, throwing his top away and kicking the pants and boxers off somewhere in the mess of your room.

He gives his member a few pumps before sliding it between your wet lips. “Are you afraid to put it in?” you say in a mocking tone accompanied by a giggle that is soon cut off by a thrust. God, you felt every vein on his member at the same time as the sponginess of his tip. Nothing but needy moans and the occasional babble that you didn’t even understand came out of your mouth.

"What happened?" — Jake asked, although more than a question it was a mockery, — "come on, mock me again" he almost spat as he gave slow but deep thrusts. "Is that what you want Jakey? For me to m-mock you?" — You laughed softly, answering him with what little of your mind you had left just to tease him. You began to move your hips a little to feel more friction, which was a serious mistake since it made Jake hit the exact angle that made you scream and left your legs shaking. "There? You like it there? Shit, you're squeezing me so good, you're doing it so well" — he pants as he tries to keep the rhythm that allows him to hit your spot. What a gentleman.

You tried to tell him you were close but all you could do was mumble 'i'm's, though Jake understood, lowering one of his hands from your hip to your clit where he drew slow circles on it, a complete contrast to the thrusts he was giving you. It wasn't long before you were soaking his member with your release.

It wasn't long before your friend followed suit and spilled inside you, giving a few extra thrusts to make sure he had emptied himself.

You both stayed in that position, trying to control your breathing to calm down a bit.

The silence was broken when Jake sighed — "So, round 2?"

Taglist:

@nshmrarki @cha0thicpisces @seokseokjinkim @rikisave @strxwbloody @nyfwyeonjun @enhalusional @kgneptun @fleurixzs @simpjay @jakeswifez @lxsunshine @zvxba

Enha Taglist only:

@lilyuwon @myywonie @ratedjaeyoon

©: made by jayniks on tumblr, do not copy or adapt my works on any platform without my consent.

This chapter is dedicated to my irl friend that helped writing the smut scene

#enhypen fic #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #jake smut #jake x reader #sex note series chapters

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starzradio · 3 days ago

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thinking about neighbor! toji fushiguro… (#drool)

cw: 18+ content, mdni. toji lowk being a perv ngl, panty sniffing, male masturbation, spanking mentioned, and reader sleeping w/ someone else

neighbor! toji fushiguro… who could practically hear everything through the paper thin shared apartment walls. from the moment that you open and shut the door to the moment that you turned on the faucet to take your nightly shower.

“fuck.”

and now, neighbor! toji fushiguro… who could hear every single hushed moan that escaped your pretty lips, pick up every creak of your old bed frame.

and who had now been presented with three options:

a. be an asshole—go knock obnoxiously loud on your door and bark at you to keep it down. (and piss you off in the process)

b. be less of an asshole and more of a perv—listen in.

c. be normal—put on stupid whale noises to drown out the noise and fall asleep.

neighbor! toji fushiguro… who hadn’t gone to a school, not in the traditional sense anyways. but knew that one of those answers was more appealing than the other two—practically blaring in green lights to be picked.

neighbor! toji fushiguro… who didn’t dwell on the depraved nature of his actions, holding up one of the lace panties you’d accidentally dropped last time you did laundry at his place. he pressed the crotch area against his nose, the lace frill brushing up against his scarred lips.

toji sunk against the plush mattress underneath, closing his eyes and letting himself imagine that it wasn’t a piece of cloth resting above his nose right now. imagining that it was your slick folds resting against his tastebuds instead, savoring every last drop. he’d make sure that you came at least once on his mouth before he even made any attempt to stick his cock inside you.

but that was just him, anyways. a shame, truly. he’d bet the collection of very expensive swords in the back of his closet on being sure that the ‘man’ with you hadn’t bothered.

“spank me, please.”

and how toji wanted to do just that, feel your ass jiggle and bounce underneath his fingertips. how he wanted to be the reason that you would be a moaning mess. toji palmed himself through the material of his grey sweats, a dark patch starting to form while drop after drop of precum leaked from the tip of his hardening cock.

it was pathetic, really.

going from someone who’d get paid for just the simplest peck, getting paid just for two minutes of his time to having to jerk off simply because he heard his neighbor getting fucked. albeit, a bit mediocrely. if you were to ask him anyways. it was a bit too quiet. the only moans you were letting out were commands—commands for your hookup partner to take some control.

“you can be rough.”

“h-harder, please.”

toji tried to pick up on any sounds that the man was letting out—being met with only silence and your muffled moans. hearing the occasional spank— and even that sounded too forced. too low. toji dropped his sweats just underneath his balls, smearing the drops of precum across the mushroom tip of his cock. stuffing your panties into his mouth without a second thought—tasting the remnants of your slick and muffling his own heavy breathing.

as arousing as it’d been at first, toji could feel himself getting frustrated with you—frustrated that you weren’t getting fucked properly when all you could’ve done was just come knock on his door. hearing you ask over and over to be dominated when he could’ve had you with your ass up in the air and mewling into your pillows. taken you to ‘pound town’ (whatever the fuck that is) like he heard you say to your friend during a late night call.

instead, he was forced to time every single stroke of his cock to the subpar sex you were having next door. forcing himself to try to ignore the sound of his heart beating against his chest with every second he fantasized about having your cunt on his mouth, on his dick, filled up to the brim just to try and hear a bit of the noises you were letting out.

just when toji was about to increase his pace, he was met with complete and utter silence. only hearing the bed creak once more. “yeah, okay, bye,” your voice sounded too normal—too composed for what had just taken place. like you weren’t even the slightest bit out of breath, the slightest bit affected.

neighbor! toji fushiguro… who didn’t hesitate in getting up from bed when he heard the buzz of your vibrator just mere seconds after your hookup had left, making his way over to your apartment.

a/n: thirst for this old man’s getting real 😓. anyways, twas inspired by this augustinthewinter audio

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pillowspace · 2 days ago

Note

Thoughts on isat's one hat ending? It doesn't get talked about enough but it has a lot of angst potential for post-canon

I find it so tragic that after Siffrin's outbursts against everyone, he gets the chance to apologize and make amends for all of it... except for with one person. Siffrin will always know that Loop did their best to help him even after he went into the House in Act 5, but the last thing he will have ever personally interacted with Loop was him telling them "curse you, Loop," so perhaps knowing that Loop still tried to help him after he said all that is just worse.

It's hard to think about just how little comfort Loop had when they likely faded away. They'd seen the Party, sure, but nobody recognized them. Siffrin wasn't there to say nice things- and why would Loop have expected them to? The interaction with the Party must have left them very stressed, the closest thing they even had to a friend(? conversation partner?) lashed out at them then beat the loops so what's even the point in Helpful Loop anymore, Siffrin couldn't convince them of the fact that he wouldn't have been able to escape if it weren't for Loop so Loop might not realize just how integral they were, etc. etc. etc...

But what do you do when you can feel yourself fading away? Do you just try to... accept all the injustices the Universe has placed upon you? Try to find some sort of peace but in the wrong direction? Do you settle into the idea that you were simply born to fail because you don't want to die angry?

I also think that, should a reunion occur, that in itself would be fascinating. Does Loop seek out Siffrin, not because they think it's a good idea, but just because they need to know what he has now? Does Siffrin take their time to give Loop the apology and gratitude that they deserve, grateful that he even can? Does Loop still want to replace Siffrin (here's a fic about that)? Does Loop tell Siffrin who they are? If they don't, does the Party figure it out before Siffrin even does? What if Loop had their pre-star human head, what then? Do they still seek out Siffrin even then? Would Siffrin even recognize who they are? It'd be their first time seeing Siffrin after the Party didn't recognize them, why not throw Siffrin into the mix now

I think one hat is fascinating <3

#isat spoilers #in stars and time spoilers #ask

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sofiasworld00 · 2 days ago

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The Wedding Bells of December

Harry Lewis x reader

Summary: Harry and reader at Ethan and Faiths wedding where one thing leads to another and the night ends with an engagement.

Warnings: mostly fluff, steamy stuff(not smut)

Word count: 3k (ish)

The frosty December air bit at your skin as you stood beside Harry Lewis, his arm wrapped around your waist, providing warmth and comfort against the chill. Ethan and Faith’s wedding was a grand affair, held at a picturesque venue decorated with fairy lights, candles, and an abundance of white and gold accents. Snow fell gently outside the massive glass windows, creating a perfect winter wonderland that felt more like a dream than reality.

Harry looked dapper in his tailored suit, the navy material hugging his broad shoulders perfectly. His usual cheeky demeanor was replaced with a calm, almost reflective energy as he held you close. You stole a glance at him, his face slightly flushed from the cold, his blue eyes shimmering with emotion as he gazed at the newlyweds exchanging vows.

The moment Ethan spoke his heartfelt promises to Faith, you felt Harry’s grip on your hand tighten. He turned to look at you, his lips quirking into a small smile, but you could see the telltale glimmer of unshed tears in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” you whispered softly, your voice almost lost in the soft hum of the ceremony.

Harry nodded, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice a little rough. “Just thinking.”

You knew what he meant. The two of you had been together for years now, building a life full of love, laughter, and shared dreams. Ethan and Faith’s wedding wasn’t just a celebration of their love—it was a mirror reflecting everything you and Harry had built together and everything you had yet to experience.

The Reception

The reception was nothing short of magical. The hall was filled with laughter, music, and the clinking of champagne glasses. Harry was by your side, his hand never leaving yours as you mingled with the other Sidemen and their partners.

Vik and Tobi were the first to greet you both, their excitement infectious as they praised how stunning you looked. “Harry, mate, you’ve outdone yourself,” Tobi teased, winking at you. “She’s way too good for you.”

Harry laughed, pulling you closer. “Don’t I know it?”

As the night wore on, you danced under the soft glow of chandeliers, the sound of live music filling the air. Harry wasn’t much of a dancer—he often joked that his limbs were too long and gangly for it—but tonight, he made an exception. He held you close as the band played a slow song, his cheek resting against the top of your head.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “I don’t say it enough, but you are.”

You tilted your head up to look at him, your heart swelling at the vulnerability in his eyes. “You’re not too bad yourself, Lewis.”

He chuckled, his laughter vibrating against your chest. “I’m serious. Watching Ethan and Faith today… it’s made me think about us. About how much I love you.”

Your throat tightened, emotions bubbling to the surface. “I love you too, Harry. So much.”

The Speeches

When it was Harry’s turn to speak, you felt a surge of pride and nerves for him. He wasn’t one to enjoy public speaking, but Ethan had asked him to be one of the best men, and Harry had accepted without hesitation.

He stood at the microphone, his hands gripping the stand as he scanned the room. When his eyes landed on you, he seemed to relax slightly.

“I’ve known Ethan for years,” Harry began, his voice steady despite the nerves evident in his posture. “We’ve been through a lot together—laughs, arguments, some questionable decisions during Sidemen videos—but through it all, he’s been like a brother to me. And seeing him with Faith… it’s clear she’s made him the happiest he’s ever been. They’re perfect for each other.”

He paused, his gaze flickering to you again. “Love isn’t always easy. It’s about finding someone who sees you for who you are—flaws and all—and chooses to stand by you anyway. And Ethan and Faith, you’ve found that in each other.”

The room erupted into applause as Harry raised his glass in a toast. When he returned to his seat, you leaned in to kiss his cheek, murmuring, “That was beautiful.”

He shrugged, but the blush on his cheeks betrayed his emotions. “Just telling the truth.”

The Drive To The Hotel

The wedding eventually wound down, and you and Harry left the venue, your fingers intertwined as you walked to the car. The snow had picked up, blanketing the world in a serene hush. The drive to the hotel was quiet, both of you lost in your thoughts. Harry’s hand rested on your thigh, his thumb tracing absentminded circles against the fabric of your dress.

“Tonight was perfect,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

Harry glanced at you, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “It was. Ethan and Faith deserve it.”

You hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “When you were up there, giving your speech… it felt like you were talking about us.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his grip on your thigh tightening slightly. “That’s because I was,” he admitted quietly. “I’ve been thinking about us a lot lately. About what’s next.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”

He pulled into the hotel parking lot, turning off the engine before facing you fully. The dim light from the car’s interior illuminated his face, highlighting the sincerity in his expression.

“I mean… I don’t want to wait anymore,” he said, his voice firm. “I want this with you. The vows, the celebration, the forever. I’ve wanted it for a long time, but tonight just made it crystal clear.”

Tears filled your eyes as you reached for him, cupping his face in your hands. “Harry…”

He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly before he opened them again, filled with determination. “Marry me. Not someday—soon. I don’t need anything fancy. I just need you.”

The Hotel Room

When you finally made it to the hotel room, the emotions of the day had reached their peak. The moment the door clicked shut, Harry turned to you, his hands sliding around your waist as he pulled you into a deep, passionate kiss. His lips were soft but demanding, his touch setting your skin alight.

“I mean it,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t want to wait anymore.”

Your hands tangled in his hair as you kissed him back, pouring every ounce of love and desire into the moment. “I don’t want to wait either.”

His hands roamed your body, tracing the curves of your dress before finding the zipper at the back. He pulled it down slowly, his lips never leaving yours as the material pooled at your feet.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his blue eyes dark with desire as they raked over your exposed skin.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, a mix of the cool air and the heat of his gaze. You reached for him, unbuttoning his shirt with trembling fingers, revealing the toned muscles beneath. When his shirt joined your dress on the floor, he lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed.

The passion between you was overwhelming, each touch and kiss a reminder of the depth of your love for each other. He took his time, worshipping every inch of your body as if to prove just how serious he was about the promises he’d made in the car.

“I love you,” he murmured over and over, his words a soothing balm to your soul.

As the night wore on, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in each other’s arms. The love you shared wasn’t just a fleeting emotion—it was a promise, a future, and a forever.

The Morning After

When you woke the next morning, the sunlight streaming through the curtains, you found Harry watching you, his head propped up on one hand.

“Good morning, fiancée,” he said, his grin boyish and full of mischief.

You laughed, your heart swelling at the word. “Good morning, fiancé.”

He reached over, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Last night was perfect. You’re perfect.”

You leaned into his touch, your smile soft. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

“Neither can I,” he said, his voice serious. “Let’s not wait long. Let’s start forever as soon as we can.”

And as you lay there, wrapped in his arms, you knew that your forever had already begun.

A/N: I’m so happy with how this turned out! Pls remember to repost and spread!

#harry lewis #harry lewis x reader #sidemen imagines #sidemen #fluff #faith kelly #wedding

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miss-vanta-likes-to-write · 24 hours ago

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WOULD PRICE'S LADY TEACH HIM SPADES?

I'm hollering because the relationship almost didn't survive that first game of spades when visiting her family. Let's switch perspectives, shall we?

Price POV

Rating: Gen Audience

continuation of this post here

John is already dealing out the cards for their next card game. He is sitting across from Kyle, and he feels sorta bad for what he's about to do...but when his Missus had said that he wasn't good at bluffing or shit talking at the spades table he knew he had to practice. Normally he deals out five cards like any old poker game, Simon and Johnny aren't paying attention because Johnny is grilling Simon about his new hen (and if she has any single friends.)

Kyle notices that he has 13 cards and immediately sighs, "Absolutely not. I actually like you guys."

This grabs Johnny's attention, and he tilts his head, "Wot we playin'?"

"Spades." John says, "I just think we should try something new." It's his go-to phrase thanks to his Missus. She says it often when she inevitably coaches him out of his comfort zone. He smiles at the thought of her, and then he frowns because when she said this to him before that disastrous spades game. (He had never seen his girl so fired up and competitive against her sibling and their partner. He honestly thought a fight was going to happen, but then it was explained that was just how they were, loud rowdy and passionate).

Simon is skeptical about the new game, "Why does Gaz look distressed?" He side eyes him. It's a new expression on his face, and he probably picked that one up recently.

"I'm distressed because if we play this game and Johnny cuts me, I won't be inclined to help him ever again." Kyle is already getting up to switch places with Simon, so he is sitting across from Johnny. Kyle is glaring at him and Simon, "what next, are we playing bones? Uno with house rules? Throwing dice at the wall and snapping our fingers?"

Soap is laughing, "Why're ye so stressed about a few games?" He wipes a tear from his eye.

"Captain’s girl has him playing spades, and he has a fade, Simon is wearing black forces with red laces. Nothing good is going to happen if either of them decide to leave their girlfriends." Kyle looks genuinely concerned, and John feels like he is overreacting.

Still, John just chuckled and explained the rules for spades. A few minutes later he finds himself fussing at Simon for throwing down the big joker after the first go around. Johnny is cackling because the only thing he understood about the rules is that nothing beats a spade except a higher spade, and he just used his only three consecutively. Kyle has tried to jump across the table twice, and John is surprised because he's never seen his little mini me lose his carefully crafted composure. By the time this round ends, the four of them are arguing about rules and who screwed who first.

"Cap! I've been playing spades for years! How are you gonna tell me the rules! You can't throw down a heart on a bunch of diamonds, and then in the next play, throw down a diamond!" Kyle is throwing his arms up.

"Wait, ah'm confused" Johnny says, "are we not winnin'?"

"He's saying that my bear is cheating." They didn't hear the basement door open, and Missus entered the room. "Cuddly Bear." She traces her hand across his shoulder, and John looks at her. "I really don't need you perfect at playing spades... you play dominoes well enough, and you clean up at the poker table."

John feels his cheeks warm up at the compliment, and he misses the way Kyle gasps. "Just trying something new with the guys, Sweetheart. "

"He plays dominoes! Ugh, I can't." He flops into his chair.

Missus only laughs, "Actually, I came up here to see if you four wanted to watch 'Why did I get married?' with us downstairs."

John doesn't mind, but he finds it odd that Kyle only groans and pulls his hat over his face.

#black!reader #ask vanta #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #call of duty fanfic #john price x reader #simon riley x reader

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moonselune · 2 days ago

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hi there 🙃

could you write the female companions' reactions to a normally passive (as in, pacifist, -- bard, healer, etc) tav, who genuinly dislikes violence, absolutely demolishing someone after they dared lay hands on their beloved?

not like in a, 'dont touch em!! Take dat!!' way after someone accidentally bumps shoulders with their partner, im talking about someone insulting tavs significant other, both physically and verbally, SO BAD, that tav cant help but go ballistic on em 😦

like, for example, someone berating Shadowheart, mocking her, mocking shar, kickin her to the ground n allat, and before she can even respond or fight back, the very same person who was berating her suddenly has a spear impaling them through the heart ?? As the stranger falls down, tav stands tall behind them, pulling the spear out and hurling it to the ground along with the now lifeless corpse 👽

if this is too dark feel free to ignore 💕

Ahh I love this and not too dark at all xox

Karlach:

The camp was quiet, the crackling of the fire and the occasional distant howl of wildlife the only sounds in the crisp evening air. You watched as Karlach, her fiery mane glowing in the flickering light, paced near the edge of the clearing. Her usual exuberant energy was gone, replaced with a taut line to her shoulders and a clenched jaw. It was rare to see her so subdued, and it made your heart ache.

The cause of her distress, Gortash’s lackey—a smarmy, cruel barite with a penchant for striking where it hurt most—still lingered in the shadows, his mocking laughter replaying in your ears.

“Naive and stupid,” he had jeered earlier. “To think you’d ever amount to more than a pawn, Karlach. A brute without a brain. That’s all you are, just a weapon Gortash no longer needs.”

Karlach had held her tongue—barely. You’d seen the way her fists had clenched, the way her chest had heaved as she fought to keep her Infernal Engine from roaring to life. Instead of lashing out, she had walked away, muttering about needing to cool off.

But you couldn’t let it go. Not this time.

You rose from your seat by the fire and slipped into the shadows, the hidden dagger in your boot feeling heavier than usual. Violence wasn’t your way; it never had been. But for Karlach? For the woman who had given you her heart, who carried so much pain behind her warm smiles and boundless energy? For her, you would make an exception.

You found the lackey leaning against a tree, a smug grin plastered on his face as though he thought himself untouchable. He didn’t even notice you approach.

“Lost, are we?” he sneered, his eyes finally meeting yours. “Or have you come to defend your pet?”

You didn’t respond. Instead, you closed the distance in a flash, the dagger in your hand before he could even register the movement. One swift, silent motion, and it was over. The man’s eyes widened in shock as he crumpled to the ground, his lifeblood staining the forest floor. You wiped the blade clean on his cloak, your heart pounding in your chest—not from fear, but from the fierce protectiveness that had driven you to act.

When you returned to camp, Karlach was sitting by the fire, her head resting on her knees. She looked up as you approached, her fiery eyes searching your face for any sign of what had transpired.

“Where’d he go?” she asked, her voice tinged with confusion. “The loudmouth. I didn’t hear him leave.”

You sat beside her, tucking the dagger away as nonchalantly as possible.

“Don’t worry about him,” you said softly, offering her a reassuring smile. “He’s gone now. Probably realized he wasn’t welcome.”

Karlach tilted her head, studying you for a moment. Then she smiled, a small, grateful thing that made your heart swell.

“Guess even idiots like him know when to back off, huh?” she said, leaning into your side.

You wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close as her warmth seeped into you. If she suspected anything, she didn’t show it. After all, you were the pacifist, the one who hated violence. The idea that you could harm someone—let alone end them—would never cross her mind.

As you sat there, the fire crackling softly and Karlach’s tension melting away, you felt a strange sense of peace. You had done what needed to be done, and Karlach was none the wiser. She didn’t need to know. All that mattered was that she was safe, her spirit undimmed.

You pressed a kiss to the top of her head, your lips brushing against her wild hair.

“I’ll always look out for you,” you murmured, more to yourself than to her. And you meant it—no matter what it took.

Minthara:

The dimly lit underdark tavern was alive with the quiet murmurs of its occupants, the air thick with the heady mix of incense and intrigue. Minthara stood at your side, her presence regal and unyielding even in the face of a room filled with drow - some nobles. Their venomous words and sidelong glances were nothing new—Minthara had endured their scorn since the fall of the Absolute. But tonight, one of them crossed a line.

Lady Velrith, a figure draped in finery as dark and ostentatious as her twisted smirk, circled Minthara like a predator.

“The mighty Minthara,” she drawled, her voice dripping with mockery. “Once a chosen of the Absolute, now… what? Cast aside by the very gods you claimed to serve? Even Lolth herself wouldn’t sully her name with your devotion.”

Minthara’s hands clenched at her sides, her jaw tightening as she prepared to retort—or strike. Her amber eyes glinted with barely contained rage, but before she could act, you stepped forward.

“Enough,” you said, your voice calm yet laced with a warning. Velrith turned her gaze to you, clearly unimpressed by your intervention.

“And who is this?” Velrith sneered, looking you up and down. “Minthara’s little pet, come to defend her honor? How quaint.”

Your grip tightened on the hilt of your dagger, hidden beneath the folds of your cloak. You were not one for violence—it was something you abhorred, something Minthara often teased you about. But this time, this venomous noble had gone too far. Minthara was yours, your heart, your everything. No one insulted her and lived to gloat about it.

Without a word, you lunged. The dagger moved like a whisper, slicing through the air and finding its mark in Velrith’s throat. Her eyes widened in shock as she staggered, clutching at the wound, blood spilling between her fingers. She collapsed to the floor, lifeless.

The chamber fell into stunned silence. You stood over the noble’s body, your chest heaving as you looked down at her. The room seemed to shrink around you, every eye locked on the scene. But none mattered except Minthara’s.

When you turned to her, she was staring at you, her expression a mixture of astonishment and something else—pride.

“You… killed her,” Minthara said, stepping closer. Her voice was quiet, but the weight of her words hung heavy in the air. “You, who flinch at the mere thought of bloodshed.”

“I did,” you replied simply, wiping the dagger on a scrap of cloth before sheathing it. “She insulted you. I couldn’t stand by and let that happen.”

Minthara’s lips parted, as though she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. For a moment, the ever-composed drow was at a loss. Then, a slow, almost predatory smile spread across her face.

“You stole my kill,” she said, her tone light but edged with amusement. “But I find I cannot be angry with you. Not when you’ve proven yourself so… capable.”

“I wasn’t going to let her speak to you like that,” you said, stepping closer to her. “You deserve better.”

Her amber eyes locked onto yours, and she reached up to cradle your face in her hands.

“You surprise me, my love,” she murmured. “You, with your pacifist heart, spilling blood for me. I could not ask for a more devoted partner.”

Her words sent a warmth through you, even as the weight of what you’d done lingered in the back of your mind. She leaned in, brushing her lips against yours in a kiss that was both possessive and tender.

“Next time,” she whispered against your lips, “leave the killing to me. But… thank you. For reminding them, and me, that I am not to be underestimated.”

The two of you left the chamber together, her hand resting on your arm as though to shield you from any further hostility. Though you had shocked her, you had also proven your devotion in a way few ever could.

Lae'zel:

The air in Creche Y'llek was sharp with the scent of steel and the faint tang of psionic energy. Githyanki warriors moved through the halls with an air of superiority, their every movement deliberate and precise. You stayed close to Lae’zel, her presence steady and fierce as ever, though you could sense the tension coiling in her like a spring. This was her home, but it was no safe haven—not anymore.

“Traitorous filth,” a sneering voice cut through the air, stopping the two of you in your tracks.

A gith warrior, clad in gleaming armor, stood with arms crossed, his expression twisted into a contemptuous sneer. His name was Ver’sath, a seasoned warrior and a guard they had encountered at the entrance, and his eyes burned with disdain as they locked onto Lae’zel.

“You dare walk among us, tainted by the ghaik’s spawn?” Ver’sath spat, his voice dripping with disgust. “Your very breath defiles this creche.”

Lae’zel’s jaw tightened, but she stepped forward, her gaze like steel. “I am no ghaik, Ver’sath. I bear the parasite, yes, but it does not rule me. I will cleanse myself and prove my worth.”

Ver’sath snorted, taking a step back as though the mere proximity of her presence was offensive. “You are already lost, Lae’zel. A ghaik puppet masquerading as gith. I wouldn’t sully my blade or my honor by crossing steel with you.”

The insult hung heavy in the air, and you felt your blood boil. Without thinking, without considering the consequences, your hand darted to your weapon. Before Lae’zel could respond, you surged forward, the blade singing as it left its sheath.

The movement was swift, fueled by a fire you rarely allowed to burn. Ver’sath’s eyes widened in shock as your weapon pierced his chest, the blade slipping between the plates of his armor. He staggered back, a choked gasp escaping his lips as he collapsed to the ground.

Silence fell over the corridor, broken only by the sound of his lifeless body hitting the stone floor. You stood there, breathing heavily, your weapon dripping with blood.

“Lae’zel,” you began, turning to her, but her expression stopped you short.

Her golden eyes blazed with a mix of fury and disbelief. She grabbed your wrist, yanking you aside.

“Do you know what you’ve done?” she hissed, her voice low but intense. “We are in a creche! Such actions will not go unnoticed!”

You met her gaze, guilt and defiance warring within you. “He insulted you. He—”

“I did not need your protection,” she snapped, though her grip on your wrist softened. “This place is not like the surface. Here, there are rules—strict ones. You jeopardize both of us.”

“But he called you…” you trailed off, the weight of your impulsiveness settling over you. “I couldn’t let him speak to you like that. I couldn’t stand it.”

For a moment, Lae’zel said nothing. Then, with a heavy sigh, she released your wrist.

“You are a fool,” she muttered, her tone softer now. “A reckless fool. But… you acted from loyalty, and for that, I cannot truly fault you.”

Her gaze lingered on the fallen Ver’sath before returning to you.

“Come,” she said, pulling you away. “We must move quickly before his absence raises questions. But hear me, my love—do not act so rashly again. I can handle the scorn of weaklings like him.”

You nodded, swallowing hard as you followed her. “I only did it because I care.”

She glanced at you, the corner of her mouth twitching in what might have been the ghost of a smile. “I know. But let us survive this place, so you may continue to care another day.”

Shadowheart:

Shadowheart rarely showed fear. She was a woman forged in darkness, raised to endure pain and thrive in chaos. But as she knelt on the damp cobblestones of the alley, surrounded by sneering Sharrans, her shoulders trembled ever so slightly. Their taunts echoed off the walls, cruel and cutting.

"Look at her," one sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "A failed servant of the Dark Lady. What a disgrace. Did Shar discard you like the trash you are?"

Another kicked her in the side, and Shadowheart grunted, but she refused to cry out. "Pathetic," the second hissed. "Begging for scraps of redemption when you were meant to walk the shadows."

The third leaned close, gripping her chin roughly and forcing her to meet his gaze. "Do you miss her embrace, girl? Or did you run because you knew you weren’t worthy?"

Shadowheart’s hand twitched toward her weapon, but she was outnumbered, outmaneuvered, and worse, they knew her weaknesses. She felt their jeers carving into her like knives, cutting far deeper than any blade ever could.

But then, a voice cut through the din like a blade through silk. “Take your hands off her.”

The Sharrans turned, their expressions shifting from derision to surprise as you stepped into the mouth of the alley. You weren’t carrying a weapon; you never did. You were a bard, a healer, someone who mended wounds and sang away sorrow. To them, you were no threat at all.

And yet, there was something in your eyes—a stillness, a quiet storm—that made them pause.

"Or what?" one of them sneered, recovering quickly. "You’ll sing us a ballad?"

Your gaze flicked to Shadowheart. She was watching you, her face pale but her eyes wide with something like warning—or perhaps pleading. And then your attention snapped back to the Sharrans.

It happened so fast they didn’t have time to react. In one fluid motion, you grabbed a discarded spear leaning against the alley wall—likely dropped there by the very fools now surrounding Shadowheart—and hurled it with deadly precision. The first Sharran crumpled to the ground, the spear embedded in his chest.

The others blinked in shock, their bravado faltering. Before they could act, you closed the distance. Your movements were a blur, driven not by technique but by sheer, unrelenting determination. You snatched the spear from the lifeless body and swung it in a wide arc, knocking the second Sharran to the ground. He tried to scramble to his feet, but you drove the butt of the spear into his skull with a sickening crack.

The last Sharran, the one who had dared lay hands on Shadowheart, stumbled back, his confidence shattered.

“You’re mad!” he spat, drawing a dagger. “You’re just a bard—!”

His words were cut short as you thrust the spear forward, impaling him through the heart. He looked down at the weapon protruding from his chest, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for words. Then he fell, lifeless, onto the cobblestones.

You stood there, breathing heavily, the spear still clutched in your hands. Blood dripped from its tip, pooling around your feet. Shadowheart pushed herself upright, staring at you in stunned silence.

“Are you hurt?” you asked, your voice softer than she expected. You turned to her, your hands reaching out, but when you saw the blood on them, you hesitated.

Shadowheart shook her head, stepping closer. “You…” Her voice faltered, her usual poise slipping. “You just…”

You dropped the spear, letting it clatter to the ground as you moved to her side.

“They touched you,” you said simply, as though that explained everything. “No one touches you.”

For a moment, Shadowheart didn’t know what to say. She had always seen you as the gentle one, the light to her shadow, the person who hated violence and refused to carry a blade. And yet here you were, standing over the bodies of her tormentors, bloodied but unbowed.

“You didn’t have to—” she began, but you cut her off with a look.

“Yes, I did,” you said firmly. “And I would do it again.”

Her lips parted, but no words came. Instead, she closed the distance between you and pulled you into a fierce embrace, her hands clutching the back of your tunic as though afraid you might disappear. You held her just as tightly, the adrenaline in your veins slowly giving way to the aching reality of what you’d done.

“You’re a fool,” she murmured against your shoulder, her voice thick with emotion. “A reckless, beautiful fool.”

“And you’re worth every risk,” you replied, your lips brushing against her hair.

For once, Shadowheart didn’t argue.

Jaheira:

The evening at the tavern had been pleasant—cozy firelight, a few shared drinks, and soft murmurs of conversation between you and Jaheira. That was until a brash mercenary swaggered in, loud and boisterous, his voice cutting through the calm like a blade. His gaze had landed on Jaheira almost immediately, and the mocking began.

“Well, if it isn’t the elder druid herself,” he sneered, leaning on the edge of your table. “Tell me, Jaheira, do you need a cane to walk the forest now? Or do you just lean on the young one here to keep from breaking a hip?”

Jaheira’s lips tightened, her calm exterior betraying the faintest flicker of irritation. “Is there something you need?” she asked coolly, clearly unimpressed by his attempt to bait her.

The mercenary chuckled, ignoring her measured tone. “No need to get prickly, grandmother. Just surprised to see someone your age still kicking about. Aren’t you tired of pretending you can keep up with the rest of us? Retirement suits your kind better.”

Your hands clenched under the table. You hated violence, avoided it when you could, but the disdain in his voice and the way he looked down at Jaheira lit a fire in your chest. Before Jaheira could respond—before she could dismiss him or turn him into a toad with a flick of her magic—you stood up, your chair scraping against the floor.

“Step outside with me,” you said evenly, your voice calm but cold.

The mercenary blinked, surprised by the sudden challenge from someone who looked so unassuming. “What’s this?” he laughed. “The pacifist wants to have a word?”

“Now,” you insisted, your tone brooking no argument. The quiet intensity in your gaze must have unnerved him, as his smirk faltered before he shrugged and followed you out.

The alley behind the tavern was dark, the cold night air biting at your skin. The mercenary turned to face you, still smirking. “So, what’s this about? You gonna give me a little lecture? Maybe cry about—”

His words were cut off as you moved faster than he expected, the dagger in your hand finding its mark before he could react. A choked sound escaped him as you withdrew the blade, letting him crumple to the ground. You wiped the dagger clean on his tunic and left him where he fell, the anger in your chest finally settling as you turned back toward the warm glow of the tavern.

Jaheira looked up as you reentered the room, her sharp gaze immediately locking onto you.

“What happened?” she asked, her voice laced with suspicion.

“Nothing,” you replied, slipping back into your chair with an air of nonchalance. “It’s taken care of.”

Jaheira’s eyes narrowed slightly, and she reached across the table, her thumb brushing against your cheek. When she pulled her hand back, there was a faint smear of red on her fingertip.

“I see,” she said dryly, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite the situation. “And I suppose I shouldn’t ask for details?”

“Probably not,” you admitted, leaning back in your chair.

Jaheira studied you for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, she reached for her drink, raising it in a small, almost imperceptible gesture of gratitude.

“I don’t need to know,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “But… thank you.”

You smiled, a warmth blooming in your chest that had nothing to do with the firelight.

“Always,” you said simply, and Jaheira’s small smile widened just enough to light up her face. The incident, though dark, faded into the background as the two of you resumed your evening, the connection between you stronger than ever.

I hope everyone is having a very happy holidays, here are some bg3 ladies for you all. Hope you enjoyed this! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

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petriwriting · 2 days ago

Text

Resentment - Theodore Nott X reader

summary: Y/N gets jealous when Theodore has a really beautiful herbology project partner.

A/N: They/them pronouns. Implied female reader, but not important. Jealous!Theo & Reader. Cormac Mclaggen being a shit head. and slightly toxic and abusive. Gryffindor Vs Slytherin love triangle (sort of)

Her long curls fell down her back perfectly. Sweet perfume filled the room, something with notes of rose, bergamot and cedar. Manicured thin fingers held a quill and took notes. she smiled, and laughed as if she were in a movie. He was wealthy, athletic and came from a prestigious pureblooded family. She was everything. Slytherins It girl. she was popular and the type of girl who was always nice, even to the Gryffindors and non-purebloods. Her name was Astoria Greengrass. Even her name had a nice ring to it, sounding just as perfect as her appearance.

She was fortunate enough to be paired with Theodore for the herbology class you shared, Theodore had been your long-time crush since you were children, but as you both grew more mature and time passed, It was somewhat evident he may not feel the same, as you had hoped. The two of you maintained a very playful, and flirty in nature relationship, but both parties kept it to a minimum, scared of teetering over the edge that would dileniate friends from lovers. a line that you felt was often blurred with the boy. But now, Theodore seemingly had eyes for another.

The professor went on about poisonous plants and their uses in magic, potions and tinctures. You day dreamt about putting wolfsbane in Astoria's coffee, in a jealous rage. Maybe you had learned something in that class afterall. You were rightfully upset. She tossed her head back and laughed at Theodore's every joke, and smacked his arm playfully. They would make the perfect couple, though it was sad to admit. both were young and attractive slytherins. You thought you surely didn't stand a chance against her. It was good though that your own class partner was jotting down notes. It was a nerdy hufflepuff boy, who asked questions a lot and kept pushing his glasses back up on his face.

You seethed in anger as you watched what was unfolding, watching the two closely the entire class period. Once class was over, you scurried away quickly. You just wanted to scream into your pillow, it wasn't fair at all. You huffed, rushing back to your dorm, and of all people to run into...Thud.

"I am so sorry," It is Cormac Mclaggen. His blonde hair, and strong jawline, boyish figure, now all standing in front of you.

"It's alright," you utter softly. the boy helps you gather your books that had scattered across the floor, your hand brushed yours and you swear you saw him flush. 'Are you headed back to your dorm?"

The question caught you off guard. Was it that obvious you were going back there to cry, eat chocolate and be alone?

"Yes, actually." you said finally. "May I walk you?" he asks. You shook your head at first, it would have been a polite no but you could use the company, and It never hurt to be seen with someone for once.

"Very well then. Shall we?" He asks, holding your books for you. It was odd that someone like him would even consider speaking to someone like you, coming from vastly different cliqes with different friends. you walked forward while he matched your stride beside you. "So, Herbology, huh?" He asks to break the ice, seeing your herbology textbook at the top of the stack of textbooks.

"Yes, It's been rough." you admit. "Just remembering all the herbs and which ones are poison and which ones are healing." you continued.

"That class was a breeze for me." He says with confidence. He isn't usually the type you would attract, but he is handsome and willing to talk to you. "Oh really?" you quipped, somewhat oblivious to the obvious flirting, but playing along anyway.

"Yes," Cormac says with a smirk. "I could tutor you if you'd like?" He offers. You stop at the common room entrance, he passes your books over to you. "That would be really nice, actually." you said. "I'd appreciate that."

Cormac nods, shifting his focus to you. "Meet me in the library tomorrow afternoon then? We can go over some material." you smiled softly. "Its a date then." you said, quickly correcting yourself. "Well, not really a date, date. But you know what I mean." you reply.

"Its a date." he nods with a wink and a smirk and then wanders off. you enter common room and then past the students sitting there leisurely. You enter to sanctuary of the dorm, finally. Did you just schedule a date? I guess If your longtime crush decided it was time to move on, there was nothing stopping you from doing the same.

. . . . . .

The next day, the afternoon came quickly. You appeared in the library early, before lunchtime to study on things on your own. Little did you know you would run into a certain someone and his 'friend'. Of course, as soon as you heard Astoria's effortlessly attractive laugh, your heart sank into your stomach. The mood you were in faded, and you couldn't stop thinking about Theodore.

You wanted to prance over there and tell her off in front of Theo, but you knew causing a scene would just make you look like a fool and word would spread, followed by rumors. So you stayed in your seat, taking notes for the textbook you were looking through, copying the illustrations and writing down key-words.

The laughter was like a melody, filling the air and piercing through the silence of the library, it was heard above the quiet chatter, and when you looked back with a glare your eyes caught Theodore's. You stared for a moment, and then looked away. Astoria was suddenly quiet again. You decided to play the game right back at him.

Cormac Mclaggen approached your corner of the library, and you smiled, standing to greet him with a hug, the confused, but not complaining boy embraced you tightly and you giggled. "Thank you for doing this." you whispered.

Mclaggen was clueless to your antics, just wanting a date and to study.. or so you had thought. The flirting was amped up to the max, and absolutely no studying got done that afternoon. Cormacs hands reached lower... past your lower back.

(Theodore's POV in italic.)

When I locked eyes with them in the library I knew. I knew that I had ruined my chances. I turn to my classmate and family friend, Astoria. The other Slytherins would be deathly embarrassed for me if they knew I had asked the girl for help. Despite my reputation as a flirty 'bad boy' as some would say, I knew this relationship was different, It didn't feel like just a crush, and I wanted to get things right. So Astoria was helping me flirt. She was pretty, sure and could have any guy she wanted, which is what made her the perfect qualified expert to seek help from.

"Girls like when you sit close to them," Astoria had told me, tossing her long hair behind her ear. "You'll know if she likes you if she plays dumb at first, classic move. and," Astoria explains. "They'll laugh obnoxiously loud at everything you say. Like this." she erupts in a thunderous laugh, she's faking it, but I don't think anyone can really tell. I sigh.

"Alright," I say. "What about if they aren't... so direct?" I ask her, uncertain. The person I had eyes for didn't seem like the type to giggle at my every word just because I was giving them attention, it seemed superficial. "Well," she begins with her lips pursed. "Then you'll have to be yourself if the classics don't work." She says. I'm unconvinced, I'm not the best at talking beyond flirting. and they are important to me.

"It's just like I told you in Herbology," Astoria says. "Being yourself will work once you've flirted and played a little. Make them chase you." she says matter of fact. I snicker, I know her secret, and that her tactics don't work on the one boy here she has eyes on. "Is that what you're doing with Draco?" I ask her, she flushes red and fingers the ends of her hair, a nervous habit. I noticed she did it when she spoke to him, so maybe even the experts get nervous.

"noo!" she exclaimed. "I try and be nice to him," she explains. "He's been through a lot." she frowns. "Sure, Astoria." I say her name very promptly. "That doesn't matter, I'm trying to help you remember?" she says. "Oh I remember." she chuckles again. "You are unbelievable Nott. so, Who is the lucky girl?" she asks.

This is the part where I looked up to meet their eyes. We locked eyes for a moment, I was mesmerized. Enamored. But then I see that Mclaggen and his bloody arse is hugging them. My blood begins to boil, I want to lunge forward and hex him, but I stay in my seat quietly. "It doesn't matter." I say. "We need to leave." I Say promptly. "Oh, ok." Astoria frowns again, softly gathering her things and following me out of the library in a rush.

. . . . . .

In the following few weeks it was now an official school-wide rumor that Theodore Notts' new girlfriend was Astoria Greengrass. There were even rumors from the Gryffindors that you were Cormac's new arm candy. It upset you, greatly. So you had been playing along and letting Cormac take you on dates and to honeydukes. You'd been doing all the things couples do, without the label.

You figured it didn't matter considering Theo had a new girlfriend. You had wanted to tell him how you felt, and you were so close too, until all this happened. Almost everywhere you saw him in passing he was with her and the other Slytherins. You avoided them specifically to avoid the conflict.

You were walking yourself to class when Cormac popped up, you tried to hide your dismay, you wanted to roll your eyes and scoff but you faked it instead. Cormac was clingy, and could be very pushy at times. "Hi love." he said with a smirk. You hated when he called you that. "Hello." you said quietly. "Will you be at my quidditch game later today?" He asks. you stop in your tracks. "Tonight?" you confirm. "Yep. you know where," he winks. "I have my Jersey from last year for you to wear from the stands." He says, pulling out a Gryffindor Quidditch Jersey that hasn't been washed and smells like sweat and cologne. You stared at the filthy cloth.

"Well, I have plans tonight." you said. it wasn't a lie, you did forget about his stupid game. Cormac looked at you like a lost, orphaned puppy you had just kicked. you sighed, not wanting conflict to arise. "I guess I can make it work." you said finally, grabbing the nasty shirt and holding it out. "right on!" Cormac cheers for himself. "I'll see you this evening." He says, kissing the side of your head and then rushing off into the halls to be with his buddies.

You wanted to scream, as you walked back towards your dorm. You needed a nap to clear your head. Cormac could be a great boyfriend, for someone who liked half-beaten flowers that were bearly alive, cheap jewelry, Honeydukes chocolates (Not even the kind you liked..) and for someone who liked to be smothered. You had to put an end to it before it got worse, and before he started to catch actual feelings, but you liked the attention and felt less empty, so you stayed around.

As you made it to your dorm you laid down in defeat, tossing the dirty jersey onto the floor. No way you were wearing that this evening. You'd wear a warm coat and your house scarf like you had planned.

. . . . . .

When the evening came around, you gathered around and got ready with your dorm mates, helping each other pick outfits and making sure your hair was perfect, It was a cute moment. Something heartwarming and refreshing before you would inevitably have to stand in the cold stands during a quidditch game, the one you didn't even want to attend. you hadn't even been thinking about how Theo would be there as well, until you remembered out of nowhere. It made you even more upset. But eventually you'd have to stop avoiding him and just be happy for the boy.

You just wanted a good fun evening, without unrequited love on your mind. You pushed Theodore to the back of your mind, for now. You tried to be present in the moment, just enjoy the time you had with your friends, no drama, no bullshit.

as you approached the quidditch stands, students were slowly filling the stands, Slytherin against Gryffindor. Both very... Passionate houses. you were hoping you'd blend in, without the obnoxious jersey you didn't bother wearing. Students chattered, the roar slowly growing louder until the start of the game. The cold air was nipping at you, piercing your exposed skin. You shivered slightly, hoping it wouldn't snow that evening. You chatted with your friends, who accompanied you.

Once the game began, everyone lined up in position. It started off slow, with Gryffindor in the lead, nearing to a tie. You watched as player flew past you on their broomsticks, an entertaining affair. Your eyes tried to ignore Theodore, but he looked so handsome in his Slytherin quidditch robes.. you couldn't help but feel warmth on your cheeks. You were pulled out of your dreamy state when Cormac waved for you, blew you a kiss and made a heart with his hands. you sank back into your seat on the stands, it was embarrassing. Your friends teased you about it making kissy noises. You hoped the Golden Snitch would be captured already to save you the torment.

Slytherin and Gryffindor were now tied, it was a race now. Both houses were incredible competitors, especially for each other. You secretly hoped Gryffindor would lose so you wouldn't have to celebrate with Cormac later, you felt bad for not liking him, and for stringing him along. You are lost in your own thoughts, despite the large crowd, the chatter and cheering.

You should have thought that sooner, Because that's exactly what happened. Gryffindor lost, by a very close call. Slytherins in the crowd cheered loudly, a roar of applause and laughter. A relief for you. You watched from the stands as everyone cheered for Theodore and his team, Cormac looked pissed off, in some side huddle with the rest of his team just under the stands out of view. You hurried down from the stands to the field, your hands were like ice cubes despite the fingerless gloves. You were surprised not to see Astoria lingering near...

"Hey!" Theodore calls for you. "Congrats on winning tonight, Nott." You said playfully, breaking the ice finally. while upset, you still cared for him. His eyes still made you feel warm and his scent was enough to make you weak in the knees. "Owe it all to the team." He says, running his fingers through his hair. "Non-sense, you did great out there. Best playing I've seen in a long time." You quipped, a sharp exhale escaping your chest as you saw Cormac wander over. Total eye roll.

He threw his arm around you, as if you were his property. You pushed his arm away and gave you a sharp look. "That your boy?" Theodore asked harshly, biting his lip in restraint. "What?" you questioned, realizing what he had meant. "No, no." you said quickly.

Cormac's cocky expression dropped to a cold one. "Excuse me?" he asked you dramatically. "Don't be ridiculous. Let's get out of here." he said. When you shook your head, clearly uncomfortable, Cormac grabbed the center of your upper harm, with a stern tight grasp. You gasped gently, the squeeze was painful as you struggled against him.

"Let me go!" you snapped at him, That is when Theodore stepped in and grabbed his wrist as he tried to reach for you again after you had struggled out of his grasp. "They said to let them go." he seethed through his teeth.

Cormac scoffed loudly. "Is he the reason why you refused to wear MY Jersey?" He looked at you, standing behind Theodore. He had said questionable things to you, but you were scared now that he had gotten physical with you. "Stay away from me," you snapped at him. "I should have never spoken to you."

Cormac laughs, had he had his wand with him he would have tried to hex the both of you. Unfortunately, he didn't have it. He hesitated for a moment and then swung on Theodore, luckily, like a cat his movement was swift and he was able to dodge. This only made Cormac angrier. "You son of a-" Cormac had tried to lunge forward, but your emotions and frustration got the better of you now, and you had stepped forward and kneed him hard in the crotch. The boy cowered in pain immediately, and you stood there for a moment, some of the slytherins cheered for you, some stared in shock, others were amused. your face went red, and then the tears threatened to spill over so you ran off.

In the evening cold, the snow had began to fall as the sun set over the school. You had ran through the corridors to find someplace private, landing on an empty corridor on the far end of school grounds. Immediately, the tears began to fall. You felt so stupid you had let Cormac Mclaggen of all boys embarrass you like that. and in front of the only boy you've ever wanted? That was just social suicide. You were crying not just because of that but because of how scary the situation was, now you'd be targeted by Cormac and his group. You wanted nothing to do with him from the start, you just wanted to make Theo jealous and to make yourself feel less alone.

You choked out another sob and you steadied your breathing.

. . .

I saw them there, after leaving my quidditch gear behind on the field. they looked so saddened and I couldn't bear the thought of that low life bloke ever hurting them. I wanted to hug them, tell them it was all going to be okay. They were sobbing, and my heart shattered. I knew I would find them here. I said their name tenderly, gently. They quickly brushed the tears away from their eyes and looked at me. "I'M sorry about all that." I say softly. "Is everything okay?" I ask.

They take a long breath and open up, finally. "Cormac hasn't been the greatest to me," They admit. I knew that much. "We aren't dating, by the way." they said. I sighed, and placed a hand over theirs in reassurance. Even with puffy eyes and restlessness they still looked breathtaking to me. "I was using him to make you jealous." They said. I swallowed in confusion.

"Why me?" I asked, I sounded like a desperate fool. I just wanted to make sure they were okay, no matter who they were with. "Because," They said. I sigh, not wanting to pry any further.

I finally speak up after a short silence. "You know... I really like you." I said finally. My heart is racing but it feels so good to say out loud. I anxiously anticipate their response. They look at me in confusion, which confuses me... "I thought you were seeing Astoria Greengrass." they asked me. I chuckle lightly at the thought, She's not my type, and very much into Draco. "No, no I am not." I say in disbelief. Its starting to make sense now, I supposed to an outsider my little secret deal with Astoria could be mistaken for a relationship. "She's only being friendly with me so she can get closer to Draco." I explain. "I had this deal with her... I would set her up with him if she would help me impress you." I say, it feels like spilling my guts. "I hope it worked." I add after a second.

"I had no Idea you felt that way about me." They say. "Being with you is all I've ever wanted since I met you." I admit sheepishly. "I just have never had any idea what to do with this feeling, It's strong and new for me." I continue. Oh, Merlin. Stop. Talking. though mentally scolding myself, and before saying anything stupid I take another step closer to them, inches from their face. They give me such a gentle and loving gaze it makes me feel warm and loved. I close the distance, embracing lips with them in a gentle embrace.

. . .

You were taken back by the kiss but embraced it, enjoying every second of the moment. Your hands felt up to the nape of his neck and into his hair, while his found their way to your lower back. You pulled back after a moment, embarrassed that you looked like a mess from the crying. "Then lets do it." you said finally.

"Let's be a really good couple." you said with a girlish giggle at the thought. "Absoluetly, anything," Theo says. You gaze into his eyes in another sweet moment. It was now somewhat official, your heart was fluttering and you felt butterflies congregate in your chest. An amazing feeling.

#reader insert #my writing #x reader #hp x reader #slytherin x reader #hp #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott #harry potter

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titaniaqueenoffairie · 2 days ago

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If I Were Feyre, I’d Never Forgive Rhysand

If someone did to me what Rhys did to Feyre Under the Mountain, I would never forgive them. And don’t tell me it was “for her own good.” SA is SA, no matter the circumstances. Forcing her to drink faerie wine against her will? That’s SA. Making her do lap dances for him in front of everyone? Absolutely disgusting.

And the bargain? That wasn’t about protecting her—it was about owning her and provoking Tamlin.

Then came ACOMAF, where I thought I’d find reasons to love Rhys, but it was the total opposite.

The Stalking and Control That tattoo bargain turned into an excuse to stalk her. (And let me be clear—I’m not a fan of “dark romance” or mafia boss-type possessiveness. I hate stalking stories.) He also made her wear the same revealing dress she had to wear Under the Mountain, the one tied to her deepest trauma, and paraded her in front of the Court of Nightmares. And let’s be honest, the way she was acting there—it wasn’t her fault, but Rhys pushed her into playing the role of the High Lord’s whore. Then he had the audacity to get mad when someone treated her as such.

Mental Manipulation While Rhys assaulted Feyre physically and emotionally in the first book, in the second, he added mental SA to the list. He entered her mind without her consent to get information about the Spring Court, even when she told him to stop. And when he was supposed to teach her how to read and write, he made her write sentences about how handsome and powerful he is. Who does that? I couldn’t be with someone so arrogant and self-absorbed.

(And honestly, I’m not convinced he’s “the most powerful High Lord of all time.” He only keeps saying it to make sure everyone believes it. Feyre’s view of him is so biased because she’s in love with him, so of course, she sees him as the greatest.)

The Pregnancy Lie Let’s not forget the pregnancy situation. Rhys hid the life-threatening risks of Feyre’s pregnancy from her. How can anyone still say he always gives Feyre a choice after that? He literally became the definition of “your body, my choice.” And then he got angry and even threatened Nesta for telling Feyre the truth!

Mind Manipulation Master Rhys is a literal mind manipulator who has mastered his power for centuries. If my partner had that kind of ability, I’d constantly question whether my thoughts, choices, and feelings were genuinely mine—or if they were his manipulations.

#anti rhysand #anti feysand #anti ic #anti inner circle #anti rhys stans #rhysand #feyre archeron #anti feyre #feyre x rhysand #acotar #sjmaas #sjm books

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causenessus · 2 days ago

Text

present

part 0.1. I HOPE TO BE AROUND

"i hope to be around / the day we grasp in truth / the nature of mind i wonder at this light / enclosed in our soul, in truth / and bid our clay remain"

“man, this is bad…” the boy next to her matched her pace, but she could only spare a glance at him before they turned a sharp corner, hoping to lose the officers who were only a few seconds behind.

“it’ll be okay,” she offered, not sharing his sense of worry. she still had a few tricks up her sleeve and he no doubt did as well.

the plan had been to completely eradicate a rival corporation due to a deal gone bad. that part had gone well. she'd had a heel on a man's chest, pulling her blade back out of him when she heard her partner yell. it seemed that the police had had nothing better to do today and arrived quicker than expected. (or, maybe, just maybe, they felt that the alert of a psycho running rampant and creating new craters in the earth took priority over most issues. just maybe.)

the situation she now found herself in was bound to happen, she knew that. the only thing she was upset about was the fact that their fun had been ruined prematurely. but the rest of the job was done so she couldn't complain; they'd retaliated against a group who betrayed them and set the precedent that the port mafia could not be easily taken down. she'd stolen what little valuables they had left while chuuya was free to take out his seemingly endless anger on whatever poor soul his eyes landed on next.

she clicked her tongue as she looked back to see two men still chasing them. if they felt like being try-hards at their jobs today, that was their fault. she felt the dark tendrils curl down her right arm, becoming an extension of her reach as she stretched her arm back, raising the shadows behind the two law enforcers up from the ground.

their shadows became wisps, curling around their hosts’ legs and arms. it restricted their movement, causing one officer to yell in surprise while the other cursed.

a third officer came up behind them but froze at the sight. he attempted to pry at the shadows to no avail. ‘cute,’ she smiled in amusement. but it was impossible rid yourself of your shadow. it’s a part of you that never leaves.

tone of the paralyzed officers barked at the third officer to use his gun and she looked forward again at the sounds of the gunshots. ‘there they go. smart boys.’

they’d figured out a solution quickly but the distance she’d put between them and her gave her companion and her more than enough time to find an escape. they turned another corner, cutting through an alley.

“that was easy,” she sighed as they slowed down to walk.

“they’re like parasites,” chuuya cursed.

they’d learn later as they went on more jobs together never to say assume their job had been simple and finished until after they’d written a report about it and all was said and done. (once, chuuya had spoken the cursed words as they’d walked to an address to fetch a payment after an assassination, assuming things were finished and safe only for their supposed "payment" nearly blow them up.) but for now, they were still young kids in the mafia running off the thrill of adrenaline that came with defying the law and escaping authority figures.

or at least they thought they'd escaped. as soon as they exited the dark alley they cut through, they were blinded by the numerous guns and shields that reflected the sun above right into their eyes. safeties were clicked-off weapons aimed directly at the space between their brows.

one officer spoke for the rest, looking above his shield while pointing his gun at them, “hands up where we can see them. now.”

“chuuya…” she whispered as they both raised their arms. now it was his time to reveal a trick.

“grab onto me,” he murmured back.

another officer stepped forward from the mass, handcuffs in hand, triggering the duo to make their escape. she grabbed his shoulder while he placed a hand on her side, pulling her close all within the flash of a second. she felt the pressure around her disappear and in an instant, they were in the air.

the arc of officers who had cornered them looked up in shock but weren't given the chance to reposition their guns before the pair disappeared. they landed back on the ground, running across a street miles away from where they'd just been. she grabbed his hand, quickly pulling him down an alleyway familiar to her while he exclaimed. it had been nearly three years since he’d joined and every time chuuya thought he’d memorized all of the mafia’s escape routes, another one popped up.

she lifted up the lid of a manhole, ushering him in first before slipping in herself, slowly closing the lid right as she heard footsteps approaching.

she’d been right initially; this had been an easy job.

“you did finish the job, I suppose…that’s all I can say,” kouyou covered part of her face with the sleeve of her kimono, closing her eyes and shaking her head.

“ane-san…”

“quiet, boy.” her red eyes shot open, giving him a dirty look. “next time, put a little more effort into not riling up the entirety of yokohama’s law enforcement. you’re not making anything easier for anyone involved, yourself included. do you understand? now get out. go home, or do whatever you children do,” she dismissed them with a wave and deep sigh.

the door closed behind them along with any last worries they had. the book had been closed. even if kouyou was mad at them at the moment, she’d probably forget tomorrow and they could do the same. they’d never have to think about it again–

“you two got in trouble didn’t you~” chuuya grimaced at the voice.

“get lost, piece of shit,” he sneered, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“i heard it all,” dazai teased, following behind chuuya and her as they started to walk. “actually, I watched you guys the whole time, too. that was a real piece of work. what did you call one of the soldiers, chuuya? ‘fucking pussy more useless than dogshit in an unwatered field?’ i never knew your vocabulary was so expansive.”

“the fuck? you don’t have anything better to do as youngest port mafia executive in history than watch me do my job? watch me expand my fist up your–”

she had to stifle a laugh, trying her best not to irk the boy next to her even more. she realized now perhaps chuuya’s destruction today had been the first opportunity he’d really had to get all of his anger out over losing to dazai (again) in their latest competition to become an executive first. they both hated each other yet couldn’t stay away from each other or from making bets. maybe it was because chuuya hated to lose, maybe it was dazai's persistence and unforgettable presence, or maybe it was a mix of both.

“ah, and [y/n]-chan, the way you slit that man’s throat from behind before he even realized you were there…can you do that to me?” the brunette exclaimed, poking his face over the shoulders of both of them.

“i think your bandages would get in the way, dazai-san,” she turned her head to him. before he could respond, a gloved hand quickly shoved his face away from her, the brunette whining in annoyance.

“you suicidal freak! go take a fucking shower, or just leave us alone in general. all you do is curdle the air around me,” chuuya spat, and it was obvious all of the destruction and yelling he’d done earlier today had done nothing to help calm the rage inside of him.

“do I really stink? you’re the second person to tell me that this week!” the executive lifted up his coat to try and sniff it seemingly to no avail. “but chuuya, really– me, curdle the air? just saying one of your insults left a sour taste in my mouth.” he stuck out a tongue at chuuya who was turning towards him, fist closed tightly. she was sure she’d see the white of his knuckles if he didn’t have gloves on. “[y/n]-chan, do i really smell?” he turned towards her but he was cut short when she put a finger up to his mouth.

they passed by a fellow mafia member in silence, trying to be respectful, but it was clear he’d most certainly heard at least part of their conversation. it wasn’t like anyone would have the guts to stand up or question the executive that walked behind her (besides his arch nemesis who conveniently was walking in pace with her), but she’d rather not make more trouble for those around them.

which was a noble effort, but thrown in the garbage as soon as they passed the man and could no longer keep it together after a few beats in silence and dazai was the first to burst out in laughter. she leaned against a nearby pillar with the brunette, the both of them both trying to calm themselves down while chuuya tried horribly to cover up the smile instinctively stretching across his face as a look of anger.

what was it koyou had said? “go home or do whatever you children do?” rarely did any of them ever go home after a job. they were the port mafia, after all. they truly came alive as the sun set and the moon rose. here in the midst of twilight, evident by the blue moonlight coming through a nearby stained glassed window, was an oddly dressed bandaged boy wielding a knife as he carved something she couldn’t read into the side of the pillar they were leaning against. and with him were his two companions, just as equally as odd. most days ended in mischievous deeds, fits of laughter, competitions, and fights. that’s how it had always been.

how it should’ve always been if one of them hadn’t disappeared soon after.

m.list | next

extras <3

without revealing too much at the moment, [y/n]'s ability is called ikiryō. the word revolves around japanese folklore having to do with ghosts, however in tadano makuzu's book far north tales, makuzu talks about ikiryō as it was known during the edo period, as a sort of "shadow sickness" where people believed in doppelgangers and one's soul being able to separate from their body and taking form as its host's body (more to be explained about [y/n]'s ability but I would highly recommend looking into the folklore behind ikiryō it's super interesting :3)

as described in the fic a little bit, chuuya and [y/n] have an ongoing "taboo"/"curse word" in which every time they say "that was easy" before they've finalized the completion of the job with their contractor (or in most cases, reported to mori), something is bound to go wrong

this chapter takes place after the events of the fifteen and storm bringer arcs, in a small middle between dazai becoming an executive and the dark era :)

i am basically rewriting these chapters as i go from when they were first written back in january when I was a very different me but i'm not completely reworking everything so i'm not entirely sure what you guys are going to think of the quality of this writing 😭😭😭 but i'm so sorry if this is boring or cringe and pls lmk so I can improve!!

taglist: @miiyas @kameyyy @saoirseyun @phoenix-eclipses (form to be added to taglist! <3)

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