#well his hand and shadow anyways lol

[soepwashere]

POV: your family counseling session with your brother and robo son isn’t going so well

This screenshot reminded me of this Pepe meme lol

[robotsafari]

i had a dream where something was off with riku’s shadow…

(this art is so sucks i made this when i was tired and less experienced which ended up making riku look so much skinnier than how i normally draw him post-kh2 can you stop engaging it with pretty pweeease)

[kissatoru]

𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐆

pairing. sub!werewolf!toji fushiguro x dom!gn!reader

synopsis. stories and fables always warn of the big bad wolf, but personally, you think he makes quite a cute pet.

content. PORN WITH PLOT YAYY, no curses/modern/alternate magic au, bratty asf sub!toji, mean dom!reader, reader is super strong and beats toji’s ass lol, canon-typical violence, cigarette smoking, outdoor sex, degradation, brat-taming, mild pet play, shoe humping, cock stepping, pain kink, s/m dynamic, handjob, edging, pet (?) names (darling, sweetheart [receiving; condescendingly] + pup, puppy, puppy dog [giving; also condescendingly]), anal fingering, spit and cum as lube, spanking, reader refers to themself as ‘master’ once, morally grey + dubcon ending

notes. finally finished!! thank you for your patience til now :,) this fic kinda ran away from me while i was writing it so it’s different to what i initially planned but hopefully people are still into it. also it’s my first time writing toji so i hope i did him justice!! anyway, please consider reblogging if you enjoy<3

wc. 9.2k

The footsteps started when you were about halfway home.

In sync with yours. Heavy yet carefully quiet, faint but noticeable, at least to someone who goes on walks in the woods as often as you. Human, as well — too calculated not to be — and someone with a broader gait, by the sounds of it.

After a few moments of inner-debate, you stop. The footsteps stop too.

Your eyes swiftly scan your surroundings. Nothing — but you keep your guard up as you slip a cigarette out of the tin in your coat’s breast pocket, then a lighter from your trouser pocket. Between your lips, you rest the cigarette and cup your hand over the lighter’s flame. Its warmth is intimate against your cold skin, in both its temperature and familiarity. The thin misty stem of scorched tobacco blooms in the air.

You absentmindedly dig a little divot in the dirt with the tip of your shoe, and chance another curt look around you, but still nothing. Minutes tick by and eventually you decide to resume your walking, though at a more leisurely pace this time. And as you do so, those footsteps return — tenfold. Soft, distant taps turn into violent hits against the earth. Nearer and nearer they draw, but you keep facing forward, not a stutter in your step or a falter in the lazy in and out of smoke.

Until a looming presence enters your peripheral vision.

A blur is your only warning. Then an arm cinches around your throat.

You jab your lit cigarette into the man’s arm. A raspy, “Son of a bitch,” puffs into your ear, but he doesn’t let go.

Okay. Don’t panic. Focus.

You try again. Spread your stance. Secure your grip. Jump, legs in the air, and throw yourself back down. His body hunches over yours. You propel back up. Hurl him over your back.

He grunts as his body slams the ground. You rush to immobilise him. He manoeuvres out of the way.

Back on his feet in seconds, he’s already charging at you. Too fast for you to dodge. You block with your arms. His fist lands like a nuclear bomb. Pure power. All at once. Leaves aftershocks like an earthquake. But still, you stay standing.

Your assailant huffs, something that sounds both pissed off and surprised, before he directs another attack. Straight for your torso.

You catch his wrist and twist it. He thrusts a leg out at your feet.

The forest around you flips upside down. Your back and the ground collide. Pain in your spine. A shadow above you. Weight on your hips. Pressure around your neck.

You grip one of your attacker’s arms. Pivot your feet round his legs. Ram your pelvis upward.

Your vision carousels. You’re on top of him. He pushes you off.

On your feet. Both of you.

A narrow miss, the edge of his knuckles swiping past your temple.

You leap back. He surges forward.

You attack before he does — a roundhouse kick to his face.

The assailant’s head spins ninety degrees. He brings a hand up to his nose, sharply inhaling as he touches it, before turning back to you.

He swings again. You knock it away. Strike his diaphragm. Then his skull.

He doubles over. You double down. Spear your knee into his face. Once. Twice. Three times. Full force, no respite. You aim for his diaphragm again with the heel of your foot.

He stumbles backwards and hits a tree. His body slumps to the ground.

He goes to get up. You pin your shoe to his sternum and shove him back. “Stay down.” You lean forward, his rib cage fighting against the compression. “Who are you? Why are you attacking me?”

Blood oozes down his chin from his nose. “Why d’ya think I’d tell you anything?”

You answer with a backhanded smack across his face.

He coughs at the impact and spits out the blood in his mouth. “Feisty, aren’t ya?” His lips stretch into a vengeful smile, laying bare his orange-stained teeth.

That’s when you notice a distinguishable scar, thick and ridged, spliced through his lip. Next, his teeth — tapered, dog-like. Then the pointy mammal ears sticking out of his hair, the furry black tail resting beside him…

There’s no doubt in your mind. It’s him. World renowned assassin: Hellhound, the Sorcerer Killer. Half-man, half-wolf; rumoured to be the only one of his kind. Willing to do anything for the right price is his motto. Until now, you’ve only ever heard of him, but now that you’re face to face… Well, he certainly looks the part, but if he was really as good as people say he is, your current positions would likely be reversed.

“I take it my reputation precedes me?” Toji pipes up cockily, apparently picking up on the recognition in your stare.

You avoid the question, lest it feeds the ego that is undoubtedly big enough already. “How much are you getting paid?”

Toji wipes the blood under his nose and looks up at you. “Not enough to be dealing with all this, tha’s for sure,” he remarks snidely.

You fold your arms across your chest. “Then I’m sure you won’t mind giving me the details of your employer.”

“Nah,” Toji argues back with slitted eyes and a chin angled up arrogantly. “Afraid I’m bound by contract, sweetheart.”

You smack him again, but all it does is garner a chuckle.

“If slapping me’s as far as you’re willin’ to go to get me to talk,” Toji scoffs before gazing up at you, “then we’re gonna be here a while, darlin’.”

Eyes narrowed, you contemplate other courses of action, different methods of both torture and persuasion.

As if embracing his current position, Toji rests back against the tree, casual despite the circumstances being everything but. “Look. You’re not gonna get me to rat out my client, alright? So unless you wanna start talking numbers, I suggest you just give–”

Your boot stomps down on Toji’s groine.

His jaw drops open and an almost inaudible moan spills out. “Ah… fuck.”

Not quite the reaction you were going for. Still, you curiously lean your leg forward, pressing the sole of your shoe down harder against Toji’s crotch. His head slumps forward, dark hair curtaining over his eyes. A barely-suppressed groan finds its way out of him.

“No way,” you breathe, incredulous. “You like this, don’t you?” You stifle a laugh. “What, not every day you get your ass handed to you, huh? I bet you didn’t even know you were into this.”

He peers up at you, grin flashing like a switchblade. “Don’t act like you’re any better.”

“Oh, I don’t have to act like it.” You roll your foot around in focused circles, watching how Toji’s breath gets heavier with each one. Your silhouette towers over him, tall and proud; carving its shape into the veil of moonlight behind you. All your features melt away in the shadows draped over your face — all except your smile, which perseveres with deadly determination and even deadlier teeth. They’re not anything special, sure; they don’t hold a light to Toji’s, yet they instil a sense of unease that someone of his size and strength and species is entirely unfamiliar with. And as he watches your tongue glide across the edge of them, shining and sinister, he realises that maybe it’s not the teeth themselves that are the threat. Maybe it’s what lies behind them; the person they belong to, who is staring down at him like a tiger eyeing a pound of flesh.

“You’re the one whose pitiful dick is under my boot right now, after all.”

Matted black ears tuck back against his head, just as any cornered animal’s might, as Toji scowls up at you. “Shut up. You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

You look him up and down, from the tips of his twitchy ears to the bottom of his fluffy tail. The pinkening of his cheeks, his glossy eyes staring up at you. Puppylike. “I’d say I have a pretty good idea actually,” you say, holding in a giggle.

Toji snarls. “I’m warning y…” A breathy moan slips past his defences, so delicate you’d never suspect it could come from a man as big and burly as him. “Fuck– fuck you. If you’re gonna touch me, at least do it properly, you fucking… coward.”

His glare melts into scrunched eyebrows and squeezed-shut eyes as you sink more pressure onto his cock.

“Why would I do that? You seem to be enjoying yourself just fine like this,” you tease, and follow it with a quickened but not yet fast pace; something steady enough to not be teasing but slow enough to keep him wanting.

Toji growls. “Bastard,” he spits, but the word’s intention is lost in the air that flutters around it, turning it soft and feeble as his jaw quivers. Another brief second of honesty, a momentary crack in his composure, but that locked jaw returns as soon as Toji notices it. The look on his face is unchanged, but you’re not sure if it’s because he truly believes he’ll come out on top by the end of this, or if he’s just waiting for you to prove you’re worthy of his surrender.

“It’s not enough,” he pants out. His hands clench into fists around the soil he sits in as his hips move against your shoe. It’s still not discreet enough to go unnoticed by you — though you opt to avoid mentioning it, in favour of continuing down the path of opportunity he’s already opened up for you with his response.

“No, I think it is,” you insist, syncing your foot’s movements to Toji’s hips. Already so lost in the moment, he doesn’t even realise it. “I think you could cum just like this, riding my shoe like a worthless whore.”

Clawed fingers and calloused palms constrict around your calf. The tightness of his grip gives the impression that he’s trying to stop you, but you can feel the way he uses it to meet his grinding motions.

It’s quite the show, really. A man — a beast — like Toji, beneath you in such a way, with his eyes closed in oblivious concentration, his lips parted ever so slightly and his strained breaths hot against your shin. Dark lashes on rosy cheeks. Hair swept across his eyes, shifting with every movement.

It’s too bad it can’t last.

What you said certainly implies that you plan to make him finish like this, but all it really is is a trap. No beast can truly resist temptation, after all, and Toji is no different. He’ll pretend to hate every second of this, but there is no denying that the only reason you’ve gotten this far is because he wants it. Desperately. Carnally. He might scowl at your degrading words, but in the end, he chases after the promise that’s whispered over their shoulder, the promise that he longs for so deeply that he doesn’t realise its hushed voice is really his own in disguise.

You rake your fingers through his hair, collecting sweat and the strands obscuring his face into a fist. A yank drags his face into the moonlight, and a groan from his throat. “Alright, that’s enough,” you declare, the words cutting and final. “Get off me, fleabag.”

Toji’s lip curls up in a snarl and his canines gleam beneath the pale skin. “The fuck d’ya mean ‘that’s enough’?”

You scoff. “Exactly that.” Darkness drips over Toji’s face as you lean over him. “Now get off of me before I fucking make you.”

For a second, you think you’ll need to repeat yourself one more time — his eyes are narrowed and his lips pursed, a look of reluctance if you’ve ever seen it — but then the hands around your leg loosen, until all that’s left behind is the autumn breeze against the lingering imprint of his warm palms. The grin you find yourself wearing is so wide you feel your teeth pressing through your lips. A brat’s obedience, no matter how small, is always a victory worth celebrating.

“So what now?” Toji sighs and leans back on his hands, legs still spread. Boredom sculpts his features, but the colour in his cheeks betrays his façade. Try as he might, he’s not nearly as good at hiding his true desires as he thinks. And when you only smile in response, he raises an eyebrow. “Well?” A scarred hand confidently slides down to the space between his thighs, the thick fingers parting and tracing the silhouette of his hard cock. Wolfish fangs pull at his bottom lip and a harsh breath rushes out through his nose. “You just gonna stand there… or are you gonna come and finish what you started?”

You lean your weight back, arms folded across your chest, and chuckle. “I can’t really win, can I?” you say with playful resignation. “Either way, you’ll enjoy it.”

He grins — the kind of shit-eating grin that’s designed to scorch your nerves down to their roots. Whether that’s a good or a bad kind of sensation depends entirely on the person. In Toji’s case? It’s somehow both.

“Better make your choice quick then,” Toji remarks, his tone equal parts raspy and sultry. “If ya don’t hurry, I’ll just finish myself off right here and now.” The tip of his tongue peeks out between his sharp moonlit teeth, mirroring your action from before.

You snicker and give him a pitied once-over. “Darling, I assure you that’s not the threat you think it is.”

Furry ears jerk in place as Toji sucks his teeth. “Get down here and suck my cock before I rip your throat out then.” The words tumble out of him like he’s rushing to get them out — evidence of his growing desperation, or perhaps of his courage, waning in the imminent promise of consequence.

“There,” he says with finality, lips stretched into a half-cocky, half-frustrated snarl. “‘That threatenin’ enough for ya now, bitch?”

You swiftly snatch his face up in one hand and Toji flinches — just a split-second scrunch of his eyes, but it’s enough to tell you caught him off guard. You’re not really acting out of anger so much as greed though; craving and chasing after those tiny yet monumentally satisfying slip-ups in his reactions. “You are awful mouthy for some dog that was humping my foot until a minute ago.”

“Yeah, and?” he barks back, with enough gall to still be smiling against your palm. “What are you gonna do about it, huh?”

Suppressing another laugh, you draw closer to him; not quite eye-level, just ever so slightly elevated. “You know, it’d be kind of cute how badly you want me to fuck you if you weren’t so fucking insufferable about it.” Your nails, though blunt in comparison to Toji’s claws, carve impressive crescents into his skin under the force of your tensed fingers. “But don’t forget that you’re below me, mutt. I can stop any time. I can go home and never think about you again, but you?” You laugh through your nose and push his skull into the bark of the tree behind him. A clawed hand clamps around your wrist, but you don’t move an inch. “You’ll be the one jerking off in the middle of a fucking forest, like some filthy creep, fantasising about all the things I didn’t do to you but could have had you just stopped being a brat for one goddamn second.”

An airy breath leaves you, charged with equal parts exasperation and glee and resulting in something akin to a laugh. The mockery behind the noise fails to affect Toji, however. Those night-black ears remain flat against his skull, and those indigo eyes remain glaring at you, but the tightly-sealed lips below them tell you he’s biting his tongue — figuratively, though perhaps also literally. It doesn’t seem too far of a stretch to assume he’d go to such lengths to keep from arguing back, after all.

You smooth your free hand over your hair and readjust the grip of the other on Toji’s face. He grunts at the action, but those lips don’t budge, not even a twitch. The silence that follows is unfamiliar, but not completely unwelcome. Even rewarding, in a way.

“So what’s it gonna be, puppy dog?” you ask lazily, though not without that telltale flicker of amusement in your voice. “Are you gonna be a good boy?” You tilt your head and smirk. “Or would you prefer to jizz here in the dirt with just your hand and imagination like a pathetic loser instead?”

You feel how he grinds his teeth, that slow mechanical shift of his jaw and the muffled chalky sound of bone grating against bone in his mouth. Curiosity beckons you to wonder what’s going on inside that head of his; what words he’s rummaging through his mind for, what kind of responses he’s drafting and redrafting, if any at all. What does a beast of his calibre have to say to a lowly human like you, daring to tame and subdue him?

In the darkness below your form, you catch a cautionary rise and fall of his hips. Just one small short nudge of his pelvis, forwards then back again. And before you can comment on it, Toji speaks, low and not entirely begrudgingly:

“Put me in my place then.”

Immediately, your lips slide into a smile, but you restrain from getting too excited just yet. “Is that an order? Or a plea?”

Midnight eyes dart away from yours; no words follow.

“Well? Answer me,” you snap at him. “You can do it now or I can just leave, remember? Either option is fine by me.”

Toji groans. “It’s… I’m– I’m asking.” He sighs heavily and the hand around your wrist loosens, twitches. He still refuses to look at you amidst this all, it seems. But you wait some more, let the silence linger a little longer, just in case.

He sighs again. Still doesn’t look at you, but a quiet little, “Please,” squeezes through gritted teeth.

“Can I get that in a full sentence?” you say, polite enough to seem genuine at first, but paired with that condescending grin of yours, it’s not at all convincing. “I just want to be sure I’m understanding you correctly.”

Toji’s eyes finally return to yours. “You’re pushing your fucking luck,” he growls.

“Oh, I am? I’m pushing my luck?” You pause, but not to let him answer; on your face is a look that tells him he’s the one pushing his luck, that he’s misstepped — and should take that step back before he regrets it. “Sorry, who’s doing who a favour by being here, again?” You’re no longer smiling, but the condescension in your tone remains. “Remind me because I seem to have forgotten.”

His eyes flick away and you’re met instead with the silence you have grown somewhat fond of.

Then, eventually: “You,” he answers and his Adam’s apple bumps against your wrist as he swallows. “I want you to…” He hesitates, tense neck muscles relaxing in your hand, eyes closing, pressing shut. Hard. Reluctant, even now.

“To put me in my place… Please.”

A sickeningly delighted snicker escapes your throat. “Well done, puppy,” you praise, giving a few patronising pats to his cheek, making Toji flinch, before you let go of his face. “I knew you could do it! Who’s a good boy?” You ruffle his hair alongside your fake coo to rub salt into his wounded ego.

Toji sucks his teeth, refusing to give you the satisfaction of anything other than that as a reaction to your satirical tease. You just hum to yourself gleefully. You’re happy either way — you have him right where you want him, after all.

You stand up straight, returning to your position above him. “Alright. Be a doll and take your pants off for me.”

A scarred lip tugs up toward his cheekbone, canine teeth peering out. “No ‘please’?”

Easy as that, the cheerful expression on your face distils into stone cold eyes and unmoving lips, leaving the wordless air to speak for you. Briskly after, Toji begins sliding off his black pants until they bunch up at his ankles. He looks up at you. “Want my shoes off too, perv?” he jokes, proudly grinning.

Ignoring him, you step over his legs, so your feet are either side of them, then sit down. His thighs squirm under you.

“Uh, what–”

“Be quiet,” you demand.

And for once, Toji does so without further hesitation or questioning.

Your fingertips trail down his torso, his skin spasming under the fabric of his t-shirt at the featherlight contact. Down his chest, stomach, navel, catching on the waistband of his underwear, passing over it. Fingers dance and butterfly around the outline of his cock and back again. Slow and gentle but purposeful touches. His chest stutters, his abdominal muscles contract. You continue, motions repeating in hypnotic succession of one another like shifting waves. The thighs beneath you begin to fidget again.

“Stay still,” you say with a pointed look.

A restrained groan. “When are you gonna–”

“Whenever I damn well feel like it,” you scold, “but not at all if you don’t watch yourself.” You make sure to give him another sharp glare before you resume.

Elastic gives under the pull of your fingers and glides down his hips until they tuck under his balls. Cool air envelopes his cock and yanks a hiss out from between Toji’s teeth. Your fingers spread again, over the exposed tip, then back again to paint small circles around the wet slit.

A blunt thump brings your attention to Toji’s face, where the foliage above projects its fragile forms onto it. His head is tilted back against the tree behind him, mussed furry ears flush against the bark and restlessness manipulating the rest of his features. The shameless clarity of his struggle fans the flames of your excitement.

Your fingers change shape again and wrap loosely around Toji’s length. The edge of a harsh sigh catches on the ends of your hair, brushing it up as you move your hand down, and up, then down again. The writhing of his thighs dominoes into his hips, which jump up, seemingly involuntarily.

Just this once, you choose not to indulge in your own selfish enjoyment — as a reward for his almost exclusively obedient behaviour since you began touching him — and mercifully grant Toji the relief of your whole hand, curling it to fit around the shape of his dick. A half-cut-off gasp unfolds in the space between you, but nothing more. You smile nonetheless. “Does that feel good?”

Toji’s head adjusts against the tree, eyelids pinching and tightening. “What kinda question is that? F’course it does.”

You hum. “Just wanted to make sure you’re still responsive.”

Toji opens his eyes, hooded but still catching the moonlight, to flash you a confident look. “You won’t break me that easily.”

Yet his self-assured tone cracks when you suddenly tighten your grip around him and hasten your pace.

“Wait, don’t– not that fast–” He gasps and reaches for your wrist, but you swat it away. You change the pace again, and again. Soft, hard, slow, quick. And all Toji can do is mutter expletives and squeeze his fists around handfuls of dirt.

“I’m… close,” Toji warns breathily.

“Really?” you snort. Granted, you’d teased him for a while before this, but you’re still shocked. He must have been more into this than even you had noticed. “You must be popular in the bedroom, huh?” you quip. “They call you Two-Minute-Toji?”

Thick eyebrows furrow as a half-hearted snarl seeps out from Toji’s lips. “God, do you ever shut–” He moans and grabs at your thighs, the tips of his claws piercing through your clothing. “I’m gonna cum, oh, fuck–”

Your touch vanishes before Toji’s words can come true, allowing you to watch the ecstasy melt off his face in real time. A series of emotions pass through in its place: first confusion, then realisation until, finally, disappointment. Outrage. Desperation.

Maybe you’re just sadistic, but you find it to be a good look on him.

In the spur of the moment, Toji attempts to finish what you so cruelly and prematurely left incomplete, but you capture his wrists and raise up on your knees to pin them above his head.

“Shit!” he exclaims, wide chest still sinking and swelling from his near-high. “What the fuck’s your problem? Why’d you stop?”

Exactly the kind of response you’d expected, of course. An entirely reasonable one at that, but still — you’re unable to fend off the smirk that grows at the sight of it. This is just the start, and he’s already so upset? Shivers take over you at the thought of how unprepared he is for the torture to come.

“You made me work for what I want. It’s only fair I get to do the same to you,” you explain matter-of-factly. “And the sooner you accept that, the easier it will be.”

Toji’s ears flap with vexation; you’re sure he only means to be angry, but to you, he resembles a sulking puppy.

You release his hands and move them to his shoulders. “So here’s how this is gonna go,” you start cheerily. “When you’re close, you tell me. Don’t, and I’ll ruin your beloved orgasm, right then and there!” You pinch his cheek in a faux-flirty way. “Got that, my little mutt?”

Toji frowns with something like judgement. “What sort of sick game is this?”

“Does it really matter so long as you cum at the end?” you counter, but Toji remains unconvinced.

“‘Course it does,” he replies. “What’s the point in making me wait if I can have it now?”

Such simplistic, almost childlike logic; it makes you giggle. “The point is a little thing called delayed gratification,” you say in that typical patronising tone, the one that Toji has become so dreadfully accustomed to.

“Delayed for who?” He eyes you, up and down. “You’re loving every second of this.”

You giggle again. “Oh, come on,” you beckon. “Don’t you want to know how good it feels?” One of your hands drops down his torso and Toji’s eyes follow just in time to see it curl its fingers around the drooling head of his cock. “Being denied over and over, that tension building higher and higher each time…” His jaw quivers when you slowly twist your wrist. “How sensitive you get, how desperate…” You drag and pull. Twist again. “And the rush of not knowing if this time you’ll get to cum…”

Toji grunts as his dick slaps against his stomach.

“Or be denied again!” Your laugh then is inevitable, but still it feels too sweet and innocent of a sound, given the cause of it is a man’s torment.

“Okay, enough. You’ve made your point,” Toji says in a flurry, before you can add anything else. “Stop talking and just…” You hear him swallow and study the way it makes the muscles of his neck ripple. “Show me.”

Those two words are the starting pistol to your well-earned entertainment — and Toji’s well-deserved misery. Your experienced and adaptable hands, paired with your watchful eyes and insatiable desire to inflict suffering, make for a dangerous concoction. And the fact that Toji is oblivious to that knowledge just makes the thrill of it all the more invigorating. Still, you pace yourself; remind yourself that patience may be bitter, but its fruit is sweet and lies waiting for you. Time is the least of your worries and the forest around you topples amidst the routine you’ve choreographed for you both. You work him up, soaking in his helplessness, and pull the floor out from under him when he’s at his most vulnerable, watching how that helplessness snowballs and the cycle repeats; watching him groan, gasp, whimper and curse under his breath. Like a feline playing with its food, you relish every moment of it, all while dreaming of how good it will taste once you finally feast.

“Close, so close, so close,” Toji mumbles. “M’gonna cum–”

Your hand jolts away from his dripping cock and with it, Toji’s hips buck up so hard, so desperately, that your knees lose contact with the ground for a second.

“How many times is that now?” you ask. You already know how many, you just want to make him say it.

Body slack against the tree, Toji’s eyes blink slowly at you. “F–four,” he says with a weak wince. “Fuck. When are you gonna let me cum?”

You make a contemplative noise. “I don’t know,” you say as you boredly doodle patterns on Toji’s shirt. “Maybe after… four or five more times?”

“You’re fucking joking,” Toji chokes out in disbelief, but that sincere gleam in your eyes stays. He runs a palm down his face. You don’t miss the way his tinted face saturates. “That’s– nine times? Are you crazy? That’s not–” His throat feels like it’s all dried up. He steadies his voice. “There’s… no way I’m waiting that long.”

“No?” you echo, your eyebrows raised. “Is it too much to handle for Two-Minute-Toji?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Toji hisses. “It’s nothing to do with me. You’re just insane.”

So defensive, you think, amused, but don’t let it show. Instead, you sit back thoughtfully. “I guess you have a point,” you agree. Meanwhile, your hands gain a mind of their own, caressing his hips, abdomen, inner thighs; brushing up against his dick every so often. “Four times is already quite a lot…” Finally, your gaze falls to your unforgiving fingers, where you’ve been toying at the cusp of Toji’s composure. “Just one more then,” you compromise and glimpse at Toji.

He doesn’t hide the irritated noise he makes at your offer, but he does think twice about his instinctual reply — which ends up being futile, since he chooses to say it anyway.

“You’re delusional if you think I’ll agree to that.”

You tilt your head and blink at him. “So… you want to cum now, is what you’re saying?” you ask, and Toji opens his mouth to answer but you suddenly grab his cock with a tight fist — and not the pleasurable kind. His jaw clamps shut, a slice of whistling air rushing in through his teeth. A paw-like hand whips out next, attempting to get rid of yours, but you slap it away and use your other hand to engulf the head of his cock in just as cruel a hold.

“Would cumming now make the spoiled mutt happy?” you mock.

His attempts to remove your hands persist, but each time you just push him away and squeeze harder. “Ah, shit, that fucking– hurts, you asshole! Let go–”

“Answer the question first,” you say sternly.

Toji’s thighs are thrashing now, and his hands have resorted to clinging onto your arms. His breaths leave him as hard as if he was on the verge of climax; the irony makes you laugh inwardly.

“Fuck, fine,” Toji heaves. “Yes, yes I want to cum now. Let me cum. Please.”

You keep your hands on him for a second longer than probably necessary before finally letting go. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” you say with a grin.

Talking back again crosses Toji’s mind, but he thinks better of it. “Whatever. Just… get on with it already.”

As with the previous four times, getting him to the edge again doesn’t take long. Especially since now you’re armed with the knowledge of where he’s most sensitive, what he likes best and how much to do of each to get the most debauched sounds out of him. You have him panting and rolling his hips in time with your hands in just a few short minutes. One hand on your shoulder, the other carving gashes into a tree root bulging out of the soil; a reminder of Toji Fushiguro’s monstrous nature.

It’s easy to forget you’re taming a beast when he’s so pathetic all of the time.

“Ah, ah, I’m close,” Toji moans. His knuckles go taut-white, then relax, then repeat. In the throes of pleasure, his baritone voice has softened into something lighter. “F–fuck, I’m gonna cum! I wan– I wanna cum!”

The next upward stroke of your hand slides the rest of the way off, yet again depriving Toji of the orgasm he keeps chasing. In its absence, the reddened tip of his cock drools a drop of precum.

Toji shouts, gravelly and breathless, into the open air. “No! No, what– what the fuck?!” There seems to be a wetness in his eyes, but you think it could just be a trick of the light. “You… you said you’d let me cum this time!”

“Did I say that?” you muse — recalling very vividly, in fact, that you conveniently never said those words. Whether or not that was on purpose is anybody’s guess, since you doubt Toji’s foggy brain remembers such semantics. “I don’t think I did.”

Toji scowls at you, but his aggravation runs off of you like water on a duck’s back; you can’t take him too seriously when his face is so flushed, cheeks practically aglow with colour and slowly spreading down his neck. A quick tongue swipes over his lips, which have gone dry from the progressively increasing frequency of open-mouthed noises.

Out of something akin to instinct or impulse, you find yourself leaning in — close. Until you’re brushing noses, lips only inches from each other, sharing the same breath of air. Silver-blue eyes flick down your face and linger a little too long to be accidental.

You pull away, laughing.

“You are way too fun to toy with,” you mutter, more to yourself than to Toji before looking up at him. “Did you think I was gonna kiss you just then?”

“No,” Toji sputters out, appearing offended that you would even think such a thing. “I’d bite your tongue off if you tried.”

His threat only makes you chuckle. “We’ll see how much longer you can keep up that attitude,” you say, scrunching up the front of his t-shirt in your fist, “once I’m through with you.”

Your lips collide so immediately that you almost don’t realise Toji is the one to close the final rift of space between you. Like a volatile chemical reaction, the kiss escalates. Potent, rabid, vulgar. Animalistic. Teeth nip at flesh, blood and saliva blend and smear down chins.

At the same time, your hand occupies itself with the same delectable song and dance you’ve come to know so well. The prelude — an open palm, skimming across the head of Toji’s cock; a dainty back and forth, like a bow across violin strings, and Toji’s noises a melody writing itself on your lips. You steer the flow of his sound like a conductor with a symphony, building the bridge, climbing towards the chorus, the crescendo just in sight… Then with a flourish, it all descends back down again, hushed into a temporary interlude, before ebbing into a reprise. Over and over, you play this orchestrated tune; over and over and over, until each note has been played to its fullest and rang out into silence.

Eventually, you get up.

Left in your wake, beneath you, Toji is a mess of the man he was. Eyes glazed over. Lips pink and damp. Cock blushing, slick, swollen. Hips jumping in search of relief. It took denying him almost ten times, but regardless, he’s all yours now. Pliant and at your mercy, like a common prey animal.

“Roll over, boy,” you say, just like you would to an actual dog, as you make a circling gesture with your finger. “I want you on your hands and knees.” You tap his bare thigh with the side of your shoe. “Go on. Hands and knees. Like a good little dog.”

Shakily, Toji turns around. Soil pools around his knees where they sink. One hand wraps around that same scratched up root from before, the other braces against the base of the tree. His head hangs limp between his shoulders.

You kneel behind him and tug his underwear down his toned thighs. Goosebumps multiply over Toji’s exposed skin, first at the breeze that briefly grazes it, next at the fingers that replace it. Both your hands span out across the expanse of Toji’s ass, a soothing sensation against the goosebumps despite being so foreign to him. Your thumbs wander away from the rest of your fingers and toward the patch of skin between his tail and the base of his spine. Experimentally, the pads of your thumbs grind down into it.

Toji makes a noise that could arguably be classified as a yelp and his tail bushes up, almost hitting you in the face with how skittishly it swings out.

“W–watch it,” Toji whinges. “Don’t be so rough.”

“Oh? Is it sensitive?” you taunt.

Even now, on all fours with his bare ass in front of you, the embers of Toji’s pride prevent him from admitting even the slightest implications of weakness. You, however, are no stranger to such behaviour, and do not let it deter you from your goal.

Your thumbs continue wandering, dipping below his tail. They rotate inward, pulling apart the thick meat of his ass to reveal a soft, puckered hole. You succumb to temptation and prod at it. It tenses, along with the rest of Toji’s muscles.

Toji turns his head over his shoulder. “What are you doing?” he breathes, almost sounding worried or angry, definitely trying to sound assertive — but you can tell he’s more nervous than anything. Flustered, even.

You pause. “Do you want me to stop?”

His features contort, as if perplexed. “It’s weird.” He turns back around. “Don’t even know why you would wanna touch back there.”

The reason is simple to you. “Because it feels good.” Thoughtlessly, you knead your thumb against the virgin hole, observing how it clenches, as if inviting you in. “Inside, I mean,” you clarify.

“Ins– inside?” Toji repeats, like the concept is unfathomable to him. “Like, inside of– me?”

“Yeah,” you deadpan, though, admittedly, you are somewhat entertained. Perhaps he truly is so oblivious that it skews his logical thinking, but you suspect that the true cause is the lust that clouds his mind. Whether from his need for release or from a late-onset sexual epiphany, you find it almost endearing how naïve and innocent his response makes him seem. “So… Can I keep going?”

“Uh…” Toji, subconsciously, it seems, arches his back ever so slightly in your direction. “Yeah, okay,” he mutters.

“In that case,” you usher and place a hand between his shoulder blades, “lower your chest for me some more.”

With the sheer density of muscle fibre beneath your fingertips alone, those defined contours mapped out across his broad back, visible even through his clothes, you expect some resistance — but he gives like freshly fallen snow, without so much as a groan of indignation, and yields his form until he’s flush with the ground.

In this position, he opens up on his own. Hole lewdly exposed, as if presenting to you. His tail hangs over it, out of humiliation or to protect his dignity you assume, but with one simple order, you have Toji holding it out of the way for you, making him appear even more pathetic.

Leaning over him, you trickle some saliva onto Toji’s hole. It spasms as the fluid lands on it.

“Did you just spit on–” Toji cuts himself off with an exasperated sigh. “That’s… fucking disgusting.”

“Your tail seems to think otherwise,” you retort, referring to how the appendage subtly wags.

Toji buries his face in the crook of one arm. “That thing’s got a mind of its own.”

Ever so slightly poking out over the top of his bicep, however, is the scarlet tip of one ear.

You chuckle. “Sure.”

With that, you run a fingertip through the slimy fluid, collecting it from where it started dripping down his taint and spreading it out. Tentatively, you nudge your finger inside. The muscle clenches at the breach.

“Relax,” you tell Toji.

He grunts. “What do you think I’m tryna do?”

A rare streak of sympathy has your other hand reaching down to Toji’s cock and planting a few distracting touches. Slowly, the stiffness around your finger eases up, and steadily, you push past each knuckle until it’s seamlessly tucked away inside.

“How much longer…” A soft moan reverberates in the back of Toji’s throat as your finger pulls out of him. “‘T–til I can cum?”

You hum and give a few slothful pumps. “Between two minutes and two hours.” Toji’s subsequent groan of protest makes your smile stretch out like a cat. “Why? You’re not at your limit, are you?”

“You kidding? I could–” You sneak another finger on the next slide in and Toji shudders, gulps. “I could do this all day,” he finishes quietly.

The hand on his dick stops its task momentarily to lather Toji’s precum over your two fingers. You scissor them attentively, observing Toji’s facial reactions; as much as you can, at least, given he’s concealing them. Luckily, though, it seems you won’t need them anyway, with how the rest of his body is uncovering all those secrets for him — the fingers around his tail flexing, hips rocking back against your fingers, dick leaking incessantly despite your minimal touches. To think he’s already so weak to his lustful desires when you haven’t even skirted that particular place inside him; the one you’ve intentionally been avoiding.

“Are you sure you can take any more?” you tease. “It seems to me like–”

“I can take whatever you give me,” Toji interrupts gratingly.

You wonder if he can hear how ruined he sounds, but suppose that even if he does, he likely doesn’t see the humour in it that you do.

“We’ll see about that.”

After adding some more spit, you’re easing in a third finger. Just as you predicted, Toji’s body wriggles more restlessly under you. Breaths staggering as you bump into the hilt of your fingers. You bend them probingly and it lures out a fluttery moan.

Your eyes flit over Toji’s form, lips taking the shape of a salacious smile. “How are you doing over there?”

But before he has the time to even think of a witty reply, he’s tearing new claw marks into the tree bark and whining out, not unlike a dog in heat — which, in some ways, is not far from reality.

“Wow. I didn’t think you were capable of making a sound like that,” you comment. In truth, you’ve always had a knack for turning even the most unsuspecting of victims into your needy little toys; the only difference between them is how long it takes to do so. “Mind making it again?” you purr.

Regardless of what Toji’s answer may have been — though you predict it would have been something snippy or dismissive — your fingers are once again prying out a frail whine from him as he barely manages to maintain his grip on his tail.

You pull your fingers out, almost all the way, and when you push them back in again, you have your pinky finger join, poking at the edge of Toji’s entrance. “Think you can take one more?”

Toji whimpers at your suggestion. “Fuck, yes please,” he begs — something even you had begun doubting you could get him to do, and so is all the more gratifying to hear.

And just like that, you have the deadly mercenary, Toji Fushiguro, better known as Hellhound, the mighty Sorcerer Killer, riding four of your fingers like he was made for nothing else. Whining and whimpering — two things that no one would believe he did if you told them. Dribbling a puddle of his arousal into the dirt below him even in the absence of your hand. Tail jerking uncontrollably, occasionally slipping from his hold and earning himself an admonishing spank, which only serves to break him down further.

A shaking hand clasps onto your wrist, driving its thrusting motions harder and deeper into himself. “God, I’m gonna cum,” Toji sobs. “Please let me cum, please, please.”

His words make you realise that you never actually answered his question from before. Not really, not seriously. In the grand scheme of things, sure, it was always in your plan to let him cum; an irrefutable certainty. And, as large as your appetite is, you’ve had your fill now — are brimming with it, in fact — but Toji doesn’t know that, and that’s what makes you smile. Even now, you long to overflow with the joy of terrorising him. Even now, you fail to turn a deaf ear to the siren call of your deepest, darkest, most lecherous desires. In all your differences, this weakness, this unquenchable yearning of the flesh, is one that you and Toji are both cursed with.

You lean over the muscular man below you, just enough so your hot breath beats over his back. “Only good dogs get to cum,” you murmur as your fingers bully that awfully euphoric cluster of nerves, “and good dogs can beg better than that.”

Sweat permeates off him in waves and you can’t tell if the goosebumps on his skin are from the outdoor air blowing on the moisture or from the embarrassment of the demeaning act that he’s about to commit, all to appease his meagre human wants.

Cheek trapped against the dirt, Toji’s teeth flash on full display as he whimpers out. “Ahh, fuck, m’sorry… I don’t deserve it… but please let me– let me cum.” Wet eyelashes, all clumped together and satiny, flutter as Toji’s eyes fight to stay open. “M’so sorry. I’ll do anything, please.”

Anything. So vague and all-encompassing; only a small-minded fool would make the mistake of promising ‘anything’. And small-minded fools? Well, you’re not one yourself, but you certainly know your way around making one. And Toji Fushiguro, your latest little project, is no exception, it seems; he may not know it, but he’s just fulfilled a bittersweet prophecy.

Indeed — ‘anything’ is a truly wonderful word.

“Yeah?” Your pace slows until the sight of Toji’s hole, puffy, stretched and clinging around your fingers, is trackable in immensely vivid and erotic detail. “Will you be my little lapdog?” you chirrup, light and honey-sweet, as if to a beloved pet. “Obey my every word, fulfil my every wish? Be mine and no one else’s?”

The precipitation on Toji’s nape glistens as he feverishly nods his head and pushes back harder onto your fingers. “Yes, yes, I will, I am. I’m yours. All yours.”

From the cunning and brutish Hellhound, Killer of Sorcerers, the half-wolf half-man who is both feared and revered for his domineering power and cutthroat personality, you have sculpted a disciplined and docile little plaything. An irredeemable mongrel, whose generous master’s firm, wise hand has trained him into a lovely pet, worthy of being called a…

“Good boy.”

Toji’s tail convulses between his fingers.

You grin. “Go ahead,” you say with a final encouraging slap to Toji’s ass. “Let it all out for me, pup.”

And he does — so abruptly and intensely that his trembling thighs almost give under him, practically held up by the hand on his tail alone. He cries out so loud that drool flies from his lip and his voice is followed by a slight echo on the wind. Soreness is already making itself known in your wrist, but you don’t stop; you milk him for all he’s worth, coaxing out every last drop until Toji is laying in a heap of soil and his own spend, groaning and pushing your hand away.

From your coat, you fish out a handkerchief and wipe your hands. Then you move Toji onto his back to do the same for him. A ritualistic process that brings a kind of peace to your otherwise tireless, whirring thoughts.

“Sit up for me,” you tell Toji, with a pat to his thigh.

With some help, he does. You smile and rummage through your pockets, searching for… Ah, there it is!

You take out the circular object and shift towards Toji. With practised efficiency, you secure it around his neck and lean back to appreciate the sight: sturdy ebony leather with intricately engraved symbols, topped off with silver fastenings. Such a pretty collar looks perfectly at home on him.

“What– what is this?” Toji slurs.

You stand up and stroll a few feet away from Toji, who’s bound to where he is in his weak post-orgasm state. Unhurriedly, you slide out a cigarette and prop it between your lips. In the corner of your eye, you make sure Toji is looking at you before you hover a finger beneath your cigarette. From it, a flame manifests and lights the butt.

Witnessing horror formulate on a face like Toji’s — on the face of a man like Toji — is nothing less than beautiful. You would pay good money to experience it for the first time again; to pinpoint the moment he comes to realise the terrible situation he’s found himself in, so you can cherish it from start to finish, all over again.

“You’re…” Toji’s shocked tone bleeds into one of ire; his wide eyes shrink into slits. “A Jujutsu Sorcerer.”

Wreathed smoke billows out of your mouth as you chuckle. “That’s right.” You cross your arms, menacing eyes flitting over Toji. “And now, you’re my cute little pet.”

“Pet?” Toji scoffs. “I kill your kind for a living. You think I’m just gonna take this shit from you?” Toji’s hands scramble up the tree behind him as he goes to get up. “You’re fucking dead, Sorcerer. Ya hear me? D–”

He yells out as he falls back down, fur standing on end from the scorching pain that pulses out of the collar around his neck. He wheezes and claws at the leather, curved black nails piercing into glowing red runes — but the pain only amplifies. He tries and tries, but the only damage he succeeds to inflict is a few nicks on his own skin.

“I’d be careful if I were you. Brute force just makes the hex stronger,” you warn with a misleadingly charming smirk. “You’re more likely to cut your own throat open before you manage to put a single split in that collar.”

You would know — it’s not the first time you’ve used it — but Toji, stubborn as ever, continues to wrestle against the collar’s spell until he’s purple in the face. Veins bulging and eyes watery. Clambering to his feet only to tumble back down again, like a baby deer learning to walk.

Eventually, though, he does stop — but he wouldn’t be Toji Fushiguro without maintaining that defiant expression, even while in such a pitiful state.

“I do feel sorry for you, you know,” you admit as you approach Toji, who, going by his expression, doesn’t believe you one bit, “but you must understand, I’m the type of person who always gets what they want.”

“And what’s that, huh?” Toji snipes. “F’me to be your fuckin’ sex slave? Someone to play out all your sick fantasies and take your frustrations out on? ‘That it?”

“Silly dog,” you playfully reprimand and roughly tousle Toji’s already dishevelled hair. He snatches his head away from your touch. “The means don’t always signify the end,” you continue as you saunter past Toji. “Just because I used sexual methods doesn’t mean I have sexual intentions.”

Toji glares at you, half puzzled and half — just straight up pissed. “So what then? What do you want from me?”

Your lips curve around the cigarette before you exhale with a cloudy chuckle. “Oh, you really are adorable sometimes, you know that?”

“Stop fuckin’ around and tell me already,” Toji snarls, teeth bared.

Blatantly dismissing his words, you gradually walk back to Toji and tilt forward over him. “Feisty, aren’t you?” you sneer at him — a callback to the same words he said to you at the start of your encounter. And one that Toji recognises, going by his strained composure. “It’s simple really,” you say conversationally as you straighten back up. “I heard the name ‘Hellhound’, saw the word ‘anything’ next to ‘for the right price’ and I was intrigued. I wanted to have you for myself. To tame the wild beast, defeat the undefeated ‘Sorcerer Killer’. That’s all.” You shrug. “I’m just fortunate I could afford such a conquest.” You smirk down at him. “You sure know how to drive a hard bargain, don’t you, puppy?”

Toji swallows, the action undulating through his throat. His tongue flicks out over his lips. His eyebrows knit densely. “You hired me?”

You blink at him. “Was that not obvious?” you say with a bashful laugh. “Ah, I really did try not to seem too prepared but I’m just a humble Sorcerer! Not an actor.”

As if still processing what’s happening, Toji just stares at you. You half-expect him to blow up any second, but that doesn’t discourage you from provoking him a little more. “I know what you’re thinking,” you say, and on its own, it’s true, but it’s more fun to pretend that it’s not. “Don’t worry, you’ll still get the second half of the deposit, even though– you know, I’m still alive.”

You laugh again and Toji’s eye twitches at the repetitive sound. He doesn’t see what you find so fucking funny that you need to laugh every five seconds but he wishes you’d just shut up already.

“You’re outta your fucking mind,” he whispers bitterly, like a too-late realisation.

“I am, aren’t I?” you quip back with a beaming closed-eye grin. “But don’t act like you’re any better.” Another callback, and just in case it doesn’t ring any bells, you press your shoe down on Toji’s crotch, where the head of his still-pink cock pokes out of his underwear, on display through his unzipped trousers. Like a panther pouring out of the shadows, your teeth reveal themselves from behind your lips in a hungry, bordering on starved, smile. “I’m not the one who’s got a second hard-on right now.”

Your acknowledgement persuades a drop of precum to shyly gather at the tip, triggering an even more shy press of thighs around your shoe. When that fails to sufficiently conceal his shame, Toji grits his teeth and whips his head away from you — but you won’t allow that.

After a final puff of smoke, you grasp Toji’s face and force it back into place: laid bare before you, tear tracks on his dirtied cheeks, dried blood under his nose, eyelashes still shiny with the evidence of his desperation. “Be a good pet,” you say as you hover your burning cigarette above his lips, “and open your mouth for your master.”

His teeth gnash together stubbornly, but, ultimately, he follows your command. Jaw falling open, tongue drooping over his lip, eyes gazing up at you, expectant and waiting. Eagerly waiting.

You make him wait no longer; you bring down the lit end of your cigarette onto Toji’s inviting tongue and twist it. The embers hiss and sizzle, branding a small scarlet circle into the pink muscle. As you pull out the cigarette, satisfied, you tell him:

“That’s my good boy.”

taglist. @jazzyluuv @mysicklove @starrierknight @kentophilia @vampcubus @d7dream @feruza22 <3

[larcenywrites]

For Love, We Sin the Most

Nightcrawler x Reader

Technically spoilers if you read any x-men anthology and haven't made it through second coming/ haven't read quest for nightcrawler. I don't get into many details or stay very canon anyway lol

Warnings: 18+ | no pronouns or assignments used for reader | unprotected sex | sex in a church | kinda public sex? | an established relationship of some kind ;) | sad | but happy ending! sort of | lots of plot with some porn | comfort/fluff | a little foreplay, a little aftercare | light bondage? sorry I really love his tail

Word count: 2,650

Summary: The resident catholic is having a hard time settling with the terms of his resurrection and just trying to feel again.

When Rachel frantically called on you to find Nightcrawler, you probably preferred to find him in battle, fighting demons. Luckily, on a Sunday morning, you knew exactly where to look first, creaking open the large wooden door just enough to pass through into the small lobby. The lights were off, but there was low singing from further inside. You would have proceeded to peek past that second set of doors, but the quick flick of blue that curled out from the sunlight and into the shadows nearby finished your investigation for you. 

Well, you did, in fact, find him fighting demons.

This would normally be the part where you'd tease him about being terrible at hiding, but you didn't need to see his face to hold your tongue. Instead, you found a nearby panel of switches, flooding his side of the room in low light. Without the darkness, he could no longer blend and hide, but he didn't recoil. Hunched over, his hands were clasped together on his knees, and his tail tightly curled over his feet. You approached him wordlessly. You could tell he was focused but not on you, proven when he crossed himself right on cue. A cue you hardly heard yourself. 

He continued to sit still for a few minutes. Obviously, he knew who stood before him. Otherwise he would have hid. Taking a deep breath, you placed a hand on his shoulder. "Shouldn't you be attending the service?" You asked softly. 

"I," he finally choked out after several moments. "I'm not sure I am allowed to anymore." His words, although quiet, dripped with despair. For him, this welcoming foyer was his ancient narthex, created for those who weren't allowed into the sanctuary but still wished to listen to its sermon. 

"Have you spoken to a Father about it?" Without further knowledge, you can only suggest a priest. 

"And what would I say?" Kurt raised his voice in his anguish and grimaced at his own volume. "What would he say?" He tagged on, much quieter this time. He practically curled into himself as if he were cold. You sighed sadly at the sight, looking away. A small staircase in the corner caught your interest and gave you another idea. Reaching your hands down to his, you unfurled his hands from one another and took them into yours. At the gesture, he finally lifted his head to look at you. It took all you could not to take his sad face in your hands instead. 

"I think he would tell you to come in," you reply in a gentle whisper. You smile down at him as you barely tug him towards you, convincing him to stand. When he finally does, you study him. His black blazer and black slacks, his white button-up shirt. A few top buttons were messily undone, but it only made him more handsome. Silently, with a hand in his, you led him up those wooden steps. Your intuition was right when they opened into a high balcony overlooking the inner room. That narrow gallery stretched against the wall was mostly dark, with only the tops of stained glass windows bleeding in light over the single row of benches. There was a reason someone like him chose such a dark, unpopulated church. 

As you began to leave the doorway, deadweight stopped you in your tracks. Looking back, a pair of downcast yellow eyes glowed under the wooden arch. Naturally, he blended into the shadow. You came back to him, taking his other hand and settling between him and the wall. At the very least, maybe it would help for him to see this place again, you figured. You let him listen, watching him closely as he watched the floor. 

And what a horrible day for a sermon about heaven. 

"I saw it, you know," he barely spoke up, accent whispering like a snake. "Paradise." He said the word hauntingly, not with any grandeur nor remorse. He turned his head as he spoke, looking down at the alter, but he seemed distant. Perhaps in memory. The light of the window caught his eye and reflected brilliant pale yellow. In the darkness, the other was like fire. 

"And yet you came back," you whispered back. Even you weren't quite sure what you meant by it, but he knew it wasn't merely an observation. Contemplating, he stared down into the room. The priest below continued, but you only wanted to hear whatever else Kurt had to say. 

"There were many reasons I did what I did," he soon continued, still not looking at you. "Did it the way I did." He never told you the full story, not even Logan knew. You waited for more, but he didn't respond. He probably didn't want to talk about it—at least, not for another few minutes.

"I never thought that love would be my greatest sin," he finally said. "I wanted so badly to come back," he nearly sobbed, quickly putting his hand over his mouth to keep from interrupting the service below. He gathered himself for a few moments. 

"To this place," he continued, "to my friends," he sighs before turning towards you, his fiery orbs still refusing to meet your gaze, "to you." Even when you cupped his cheek in your hand, his hand you left behind followed, fingers wrapping around your wrist. "That it would be greater than my love for God," he started but didn't finish when his voice began to rise again. By now he was rambling about things you hardly understood, but you hung on to every word. 

"You said it yourself," you gently tease, more loving than lighthearted. "There is no love without sin." With a soft smile, your touch on his cheek stroked over the fur on his neck and drifted over what bare upper chest those undone buttons revealed. You knew you shouldn't, not here, but as his expression only grew more somber, you found yourself sliding your hand further, reaching the space above his heart for only a second before frantic yet gentle fingers pulled you away, afraid of what you'd find.

Or the lack thereof. 

You couldn't stand to see him so sad, not even willing to look at you. As the preaching continued somewhere down below, something about fulfillment, there was really only one thing on your mind as you continued to watch his pained eyes. "Do you miss it?" You didn't mean to let your emotion ring in your tone as you whispered— doubt, disappointment, sadness. He picked up on it, raising his face once more to meet your gaze. Solemn eyes panicked, realizing his mistake. With a change of posture, he stepped closer, grasping your arm and placing your palm over his chest again. "Not in the same way I missed here," he reassured you. His eyes were still sad, but so earnest. You could feel the metal cross hanging from his pendant with how hard he pressed your palm into his chest. You both stared at one another in silence, but understanding. 

Something about the word doom was quietly uttered through the archway.  

"I realize now that I had already found Paradise," he proclaimed longingly, leaning in slightly. Though flattered, you only half-smiled. 

"You shouldn't talk like that here," you whispered, cupping his jaw. "Surely it's a sin." 

And he'd already cut his path of redemption short enough. 

"And yet it would be a sin not to." His tone was almost desperate. He leaned in closer, head tilted dangerously close to a kiss. You began to protest, but his grip on your arm tightened in defiance. "My soul is already adrift elsewhere," he hissed in a hurried whisper, "and He has no use for my body." He shook his head in defeat, tilting his chin to kiss the hand that held him before looking back up. "So if it's all I have left, I will use it to worship who does." His voice cracked against your lips, and he practically fell into you. 

Your back hit the wall with a thud that made you panic, but any protest of his name was muffled and lost between his lips. He could only follow what made him feel at the moment, and he'd come to his senses later, but right now, he was desperate to atone for his sins in a different way. It was a long, suffocating kiss that was touch-starved, hardly focused on any particular pleasure other than the need for your warmth. Despite knowing your current circumstances, you relaxed into him, taking your hand from his face and gripping the soft, indigo curls on the back of his head. He took that as his cue to press into you impossibly more, knees knocking with yours as you both nearly buckled from his weight. 

Finally, he pulled back just enough to catch his breath, warm breath fanning against your cheek a few times before eagerly diving back in. This time, he moved with you. Your noses knocked each time he rolled his head to find his favorite angle, and, in annoyance, you tried to hold him still with your hand on his neck and your grip on his hair. In response, his lips parted, tongue lapping at your top lip and tentatively touching yours when you let him in. 

His grip on your waist was harsh, almost as if he was scared that if he let go even a little, he might lose this moment forever. As if he couldn't hold you enough, his tail joined in, wrapping itself beneath your ass and tightly snaking around your waist. You felt him smile into the kiss when you pet over the peach fuzz of his tail before he abruptly pulled away from your lips, tongue sliding over your bottom lip as he withdrew into your neck. Sweetly, he kisses your pulse. And you know where he's going. 

"We should 'port somewhere else," you suggest softly. The light kisses on your neck become open-mouthed and wet, showing you just what he thinks about your suggestion. You catch the words reunion with God bouncing off the wall, and you weren't sure if the devil himself said it or the clergyman was sermonizing below. You tilted your head back for him at the prickling feeling of his fangs. 

With a mind of their own, your hands worked down the rest of the button on his shirt, splaying your fingers through the velvety fluff of his chest, barely able to feel the warm beating of his heart. At least you knew that he was alive, in some way or another. 

Making sure you could feel all of him, you pushed his blazer and shirt off his shoulders, feeling him down and scratching over his abs just the way he used to like it, and he tensed them just the way you remember. 

When his hands left your hips to slide off his clothes, they came back to do the same to you, sliding under your top and over your bare skin. You let him undress you, and eventually, you both stood nude. 

Even after being… gone for so long, he remembered just where to touch you. He held your hips flush with his while licked over your nipple, pawed between your legs, and tickled your inner thigh with the curling of his fuzzy tail. Feeling boneless, the wall helped him to hold you up while you focused on covering your mouth to muffle your pleasured moans and sighs. 

You were suddenly spun around, strong arms wrapped tightly around you as they swiftly lowered you to the wooden floor. Kurt's lithe form settled between your legs, back bowed as he bent down to mouth over your stomach. On his knees, he worshiped you carnally, hands gripping over-excitedly at your thighs and waist. 

Fingers around your wrist pulled your hand from your mouth, quickly replaced with that crushing pair of full lips again. Some would say he was desecrating holy ground, but Kurt would say quite the opposite. In a nest of clothes, right there in the dark loft of his place of faith, he took you. Whether it was because he was most comforted here or because he was angry at the circumstances, his hips pumped into you with a fervor that had you clawing into his back and biting his shoulder to muffle your whines. 

The floor was cold and hard and uncomfortable as he rocked you back and forth, but he was the opposite— warm and soft and lovingly fucking you into the ground. Luckily, the pious music drifting through the doorway covered up the sound of his cock slapping into you and his hissing moans as you bit and carved the punishment of love into his skin. 

You were ripped from his shoulder when he sat up, not even bothering to cover your gasping moan at the change in angle. Blunt nails dug into your skin as he held your hips, making your legs squirm and draw up behind him with the overstimulated pleasure. 

It was like a perverse religious painting, with his cross pendant wildly swinging above you and fangs gleaming along with his eyes; his tail, pointed like a devil's, bound your legs around his waist. This was heaven to him right now, watching you arch your back off the ground and eyes fluttering heavily as you both found that perfect sweet spot. 

It was when you came on him that his glowing eyes beheld the glorious sight he was searching for. He kept going, desperate to keep the image of your moaning, parted lips in his mind, and keep the feeling of your warm cream that dripped over his cock. "Oh~ mein gott," he growled at the way you tightened around him. You could almost laugh at the way he said it if you weren't busy trying to recover. "(Y/N)," he panted and spoke your name like gospel. "My dearest."

Your only response could be a meek whimper of his name, but it was enough when you weakly rolled your head to look up at him. If you couldn't tell by the way his brows raised and furrowed, you knew that he was right on the edge by the constriction of his tail around your ankles, keeping you bound around him while he came, throbbing, deep inside you. 

It was quiet now, aside from panting and the sounds of the congregation conversing and slowly departing that same creaking door that got you here in the first place. You felt you could finally relax and close your eyes when the last of the noise was shut out with the door, and you could finally stretch out your legs again as you felt his tail unravel. He had the same idea, stretching out his legs when he fell into your side. He let you have your space, but that sneaky tail laid loosely over your thigh. 

You felt a sort of regret for him as you turned to take in the proper view of his nude form lying elegantly in your bed of disheveled clothes, wishing to know what this meant for him… but you weren't going to ask, letting him bask in release— whatever kind it was. You reached for his pendant, twirling the chain between your fingers and observing the discoloration of the metal cross. Without even opening an eye, he took your attention away from it with a touch, making you hold his hand against his chest instead. 

"I-" You eventually break the silence but pause, unsure what excerpt you should say. It gets his attention, eyes lifting to look into yours. You muster a smile. "I'm glad you're back," you say softly, simply. Despite the circumstances, despite what it meant, despite what it's already done to you, you wanted to add, but his own bittersweet smile already knew what you meant. 

"Me too," he whispered and brought your hand up from his chest to kiss your knuckles. "Me too, my dear." 

[astralis-ortus]

when it's less-than-ideal

✱ boyfriend!bc x gn!reader

— you can't judge a relationship only based on its good days.

w.count → 0.9k genre → comfort, a dash of comedy at the end warning → chan referred to as chris, babe, my love; reader referred to as baby and babe; kind of sad but it ends well♡ a.n → basically i'm projecting what kind of relationship-slash-communication style i want in a relationship, so... yeah. think i'll be on my own for quite a while, lol. anyways! i also have an announcement here about requests, commissions, and fanart shop, do check it out♡ ⋆ see masterlist

chris has been acting weird lately, and you don't know why.

you're usually not one to mind—given the way his schedules these days barely even spare the time for him to rest, you understand that your boyfriend is bound to be less like his usual self. you've sat down with chris to talk about it early in your relationship—the expectations, the ideal and less-than-ideal situations, the how-tos, and 4 years in, everything has all worked out just fine.

lately, however,

chris has been acting really strange.

"babe, i'm home," chris' voice softly echoed through the apartment, followed by the rustling of what you could assume is the layer of jacket and hoodie you got him to wear to battle the dropping temperatures of november seoul. "where are you?"

"kitchen!" you chirped, swiftly rinsing off the pots and pans you've been battling against for the past 10 minutes, "i'm still washing the dishes. are you hungry? i made some curry for dinner, it's in the—babe? are you okay?"

the cheeriness in your voice immediately turned into worry when you felt chris' arms around your waist, holding you tight as he allows himself to melt onto you, face buried in the crook of your neck.

after all the years of being at the receiving end of chris' special mix of physical affection, you've naturally learned to differentiate the meaning in your boyfriend's touches—is he just being affectionate? or is he trying to tease you? is he jealous of the interaction you had? or did he sense something and is trying to keep you safe? you have always been able to read chris just from the way his skin grazes upon yours, and so far you've barely ever been wrong,

but god, you sincerely hope you're hitting far from the mark this time.

"hey," you softly called out upon the absence of chris' response, quickly disregarding the dishes to rinse your soapy hands before turning to face chris' tired features, "is everything alright, my love?"

instead of an answer, chris simply leaned onto your touch as soon as your hands came to cradle his cheeks���ones freezing from the cold weather he just escaped moments ago, and only then, you realized just how long it has been since you've properly seen your boyfriend.

how come you haven't noticed the dark, looming shadow in his eyes? or the way his skin had lost its usual glow and instead grew dry with the season? how come you didn't see the way the corner of his lips had grown heavier, or the way his curls you oh-so adored had adopted its long forgotten frizz?

how come it took you so long to properly see chris?

"i'm sorry, baby," running the pads of your thumbs across chris' cheeks, you forced yourself to swallow the lump of guilt lodged in your throat, "i just realized i've been too inattentive to you, and i'm sorry. have you been wanting to talk it out with me?"

and only then, you saw the faint glimmer you fell in love with, peeking between the grey clouds in chris' eyes.

"yeah," despite the hoarseness in his voice, you could hear the warmth returning in the words chris uttered as he nodded, "but i just… i didn't know how to bring it up since i knew you've been dealing with your own stuff as well."

chris quietly exhaled, soft breath grazing your lips when he leaned his forehead onto yours and let his eyes fluttered close, allowing his walls of self-protection to finally crumble as he speaks, "i'm sorry, baby. it was never my intention to let this fester for this long or to make you feel bad in any way. i just didn't know how. i promise."

you know you're not perfect, and neither is chris—but you also know chris has always made it his life mission to make sure you're the happiest you've ever been when you're with him. one honest mistake will never erase the efforts and sacrifice chris has ever made for you, and you'll never let that happen.

"i know, baby," you hummed, lightly dragging the tips of your nails against his scalp when your fingers found the dark locks of his hair, "i don't blame you. i shouldn't have assumed about your condition and let it slip too. i won't let it happen again, i promise."

and you can feel the way chris' shoulder relax at the words you utter,

because just like him, he knows you'll do everything in your power to keep every single one of your promises.

"thank you, baby," chris pulled you into his embrace, completely engulfing you in his warmth while he pressed his lips on your forehead. "i promise i'll try to be better at this too, and thank you for being patient with me. i love you."

it didn't matter how many times have you heard chris whisper those three words in your ears, or how many times have he held you like you're everything that ever mattered to him,

chris will always make your soul feel the most alive it has ever been.

"i love you too, baby," you finally allowed yourself to smile as your arms found their way around your boyfriend's waist, holding him close as you listen to the rhythm of his heartbeat—

"…babe?"

"…yeah," chris sheepishly nodded while rubbing his stomach, "i haven't had lunch too, actually…"

a protest involuntarily slip past your lips along with the forming lines of frown between your eyebrows, perfectly portraying your disapproval of chris' course of action.

"go sit down, i'll fix your plate for you," shaking your head, you turned towards the pot of warm curry on the stovetop in faux disappointment before you continued,

"and we'll talk about whatever's been stressing my christopher out, okay?"

oh, you can definitely confirm,

the sound of chris' soft chuckle will never fail to bring a smile to your face.

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[prythianpages]

I Put A Spell On You | Acotar x Witch Reader

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[season of the witch masterlist]

summary: You, a witch, perform a ritual over your mate.

warnings: witchy rituals, Az being smitten with Green Witch, suggestiveness for Cas's bc he's horny for Love Witch, and a bit of Eris being soft for his Chaos witch.

a/n: Happy Summerween! This is inspired by the meme "hot witch wife and me doing whatever the hell she wants" that came from the gif above. Only Azriel, Cassian and Eris are included in this. Idek if these count as drabbles since each one is roughly a little longer than 1K but oh well lol.

moon divider by @tsunami-of-tears <3

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Azriel x Green Witch

Candles were lit and placed carefully around the room, casting a warm glow that danced with your every movement. You knelt in the center, drawing a chalk circle with meticulous care. Your eyebrows knitted together, focus unwavering.

A sight that had Azriel’s gaze softening as he watched you from where he stood. His shadows flitted around him, singing in content. Precious, they whispered. Yours. The corner of his lips tugged up into a faint smile. Ours. His shadows were just as smitten with you as him.

"Azriel," you called softly as you shifted into a kneeling position.

He stepped forward, shadows shuddering under the force of your magic as he crossed the chalk circle. Kneeling before you, his gaze flickered to the tray between you, filled with an assortment of herbs, shimmering crystals, and freshly cut dandelions. Through the bond, he could feel your anticipation and nervousness humming like a vibrant current. He sent a soothing wave of calm your way, reveling in the way your muscles seemed to relax.

Lighting the candle on the tray with your magic, you finally look up and meet Azriel’s gaze. A faint blush colors your cheeks at what you find in those hazel eyes. "Why are you staring at me like that?" 

“Because you’ve bewitched me.”

You lifted a brow. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

“Oh, but you have.” He grinned, hazel eyes sparkling. “Just being you is enough.”

“Don’t distract me,” you admonished, though your voice lacked firmness, and the blush on your face deepened. “I could be casting a hex on you for all you know… what if I were cursing you into a toad?”

“I’d croak only for you.”

“And if I jinxed you with a body-bind curse that would immobilize you?”

Azriel tilted his head, his eyes boring into yours with a challenge. “So that I’d never leave your side…Are you sure that’s a curse?”

You stared back at Azriel, eyes narrowing in skepticism. But he doesn’t waver. You’re certain he doesn’t even blink, and the sincerity radiating from him sends a wave of warmth through your heart. He’d let you do anything to him.

“You’re insufferable,” you finally replied, though the small smile tugging at your lips betrayed your words.

“And you’re adorable,” he said softly, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch sending delightful shivers down your spine. 

Before his hand could fall back to his side, you reached out for it and laced your fingers through his, smile widening when one of his shadows wedges itself through the cracks.  “Will you let me focus now?”

Azriel gives your hand a squeeze, silently commanding the shadow between your fingers to return to him. With a wave of your other hand, your spellbook came flying to you from your desk in the corner. In a whirl of green, the pages began to turn, your eyes darkening as they searched for the spell in mind.

“What is this spell for anyway?” Azriel couldn’t help but ask, realizing he had no clue as to what this ritual of yours entailed. When he told you he was going on a long mission–a full week–and you had asked if you could try something, he had simply said yes.

Darkness fully consumed your eyes, the turning pages coming to a stop. He doesn’t flinch when your dark eyes look up to his. To him, they were just another beautiful part of you that he loved.  “It’s a small binding spell for protection. It’s like a stepping stone for the spell I want to cast after our mating ceremony.”

“And no, I won’t tell you what that one is because it’s a surprise.” You added after sensing the next question ready to roll off Azriel’s tongue.

Azriel let out a small huff. He doesn’t like surprises but you’re stubborn and unwavering. At the slight pout of his face, you bring his hand to your mouth and brushed your lips against his fingers. The subtle twitch of his right wing betrayed him, making you smile. 

“Now, sit back on your heels and relax.” You instructed, taking his other hand in yours so both hands held his.

Azriel’s wings curled in slightly, the dark talons lightly grazing the floor. His shadows quieted, resting against his neck and lap. You gave both of his hands a squeeze before you began to murmur a chant, your voice soothing and melodic. The flames surrounding you both danced higher, responding to your magic.

Your magic enveloped you both, swirling along the line of your circle and casting a shimmering green glow upon the room. The magic from Azriel’s cobalt blue siphons sang in response, fluttering toward your emerald light and intertwining with it, just like your fingers are with his.

The combined force of your magic sent a cool gust of air your way, making your hair sway gently. The dandelions between you both seemed to awaken with a life of their own, the pappus carrying their seeds stirring. A tender flutter of warmth rose from Azriel’s stomach as the dandelions began to rise, his mind flashing back to that day in the field of dandelions when your laughter had filled the air.

The feathery plumes floated in the air between you both, carrying promises in the wind of your magic.They wrapped around your intertwined hands, morphing into a golden thread in a burst of bright light. Azriel eyes filled with a mix of admiration and something deeper that made your heart race. It prompted you to close your eyes, not wanting to be distracted as you whispered the last words of the spell.

When you finished, the room fell into a calm silence. You opened your eyes, and Azriel watched as the darkness lifted from them, smiling as you were brought back to him.

Azriel rises first so that he can guide you to your feet. His hands don’t let go of yours. Though it’s time for him to leave for his mission, his shoulders feel light. As if a huge weight has been lifted off and he feels something he’s never felt before–an overwhelming sense of safety. Even his shadows seemed to give a sigh of relief.

Resting his forehead against yours, he takes a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut briefly. “I’ll come home to you as soon as I can. Crawl if I have to.”

“You won’t have to,” you promised, looking up at him. “You’ll come home to me unscathed and we’ll have our mating ceremony. Then, I’ll show you my surprise.”

His lips brushed against your forehead in a tender kiss, the promise of your future together shimmering like the magic lingering in the air.

Cassian x Love Witch

Cassian’s head tilted back in pleasure, his large hands falling to your hips. Your lips found purchase against the newly exposed skin of his neck, slowly working your way up. He let out a deep groan when you grinded down against him, his hands kneading into you to press you further onto his growing bulge.

“Sweetheart–”

“Can I–” 

“Yes.”

You let out a breathless giggle, pulling back to look down at your mate, your heart shaped pupils making an appearance. “You didn’t even let me finish.”

“Well, let’s fix that?” He smirked at you, his hand sliding up your shirt.

“I want to try something.”

“Anything,” Cassian replied, eyes hooded with lust, before chasing after your lips.

You placed a finger against his lips, stopping them from meeting yours and when your lips curved into a devious grin, Cassian realized you were not talking about sex.

“I want to cast a spell on you, perform a ritual.”

His throat bobbed. “A ritual?”

“Mmm,” you replied, shifting in his lap as you cradled his face into your hands. “One I can only perform when the recipient is in love with me. It makes my love potions more potent. I’ve never tried it before but I’d like to. It’ll be fun…”

Cassian searched your face, eyes narrowing at you. “Fun in what sense?”

“Fun in the sense that it’ll make you feel real, real good,” you replied, hands falling to his chest slowly snaking their way upwards to run down his back and teasing at the area where his wings meet his skin. His wings shuddered, his arousal filling the air.

“Only if I get to make you feel real, real good after.” His hands guided you to circle your hips over his lap again, eliciting a soft moan out of you as you felt his desire for you.

“Deal.”

**

Cassian watched as you moved about your spell room with a grace and purpose that made his heart swell with pride. Since you had become a couple, your magic had been steadily returning to its former strength. It seemed that all you needed was to believe in yourself for your magic to flourish again.

This wouldn’t be the first time you’d work your magic on him but it was the first time you’d perform a ritual on him. He couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and anticipation as he laid down in the center of the circle you had drawn. His wings, arms and legs were splayed out in a relaxed yet expectant manner.

You sprinkled salt around the circle, its crystals catching the fae lights hanging above and adding a shimmering boundary. Then, with a dash of cinnamon, Cassian’s nose wrinkled, the warm, spicy scent teasing his senses. As you scattered rose petals along the floor, Cassian’s eyes followed you, tracking your every movement. 

“How does this work again?” 

You made your way towards Cassian, your feet stopping right at his head as you peered down at him. “It’s simple. You think about me and only me—”

“Easy.” He smirked up at you.

With a playful wink, you threw a handful of rose petals at him.  “—while I chant a spell. Your feelings will manifest into a tangible energy that I can then work with and stir into my potion.” You explained as you added drops of honey and more cinnamon to the brewing potion in the cauldron at the edge of the circle, the mixture bubbling softly.

“But what if I accidentally think of other things?” Cassian couldn’t help but ask. 

His thoughts did tend to drift away often, usually to not so innocent thoughts of you. However, there were the occasional random ones such as what he’d be having for dinner, the  result of the loud instrument he had gifted Nyx on his birthday or what would make Azriel tick next.

“Then, the cauldron will tip over angrily over your defiance to love me.”

He lifted his head slightly from the ground, relief bringing it back down when he saw you were joking.

“Just don’t think of anything negative. Otherwise, you’ll mess with the spell.” You reassured.

“Okay, got it! I can definitely do that. Think positive thoughts.” His eyebrows knitted together in concentration but then another thought came to mind and once again, he was lifting his head from the ground.

 "And why am I shirtless?" He asked with a raised brow.

"Oh that," you grinned back at him, eyes sparkling with mischief.  "That's for my own entertainment."

You began the ritual by lighting candles placed at each cardinal point of the circle. You then took a small, ornate vial from a nearby table, filled with a shimmering liquid—the essence of moonlight collected during the last full moon. You carefully poured a few drops into the cauldron, causing the potion to glow.

As you started chanting the spell, the energy in the room seemed to shift and intensify. Cassian closed his eyes, focusing on his love for you, letting the emotion swell within him. You placed your hands gently on his chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath your palms. 

“Stay still.”

“Your hands are cold and it tickles.” Cassian breathed but did his best to not move.

The air around you crackled with energy like a steady, burning hearth. The pink thread of magic began to weave itself around Cassian, glowing brighter with each passing moment. The connection between you two was palpable, a current of love and magic flowing freely. You could feel his love transforming into a tangible force, ready to be harnessed for your potion.

As the final words of the spell left your lips, you gathered the energy with a sweeping motion of your hand, guiding it into the cauldron. The potion bubbled vigorously for a moment before settling into a golden liquid, infused with the power of your love and Cassian’s devotion.

You looked down at Cassian, who opened his eyes and met your gaze. “There,” you said softly, a satisfied smile playing on your lips. “How do you feel?”

“Amazing.” Cassian replied, his entire body humming with a pleasant warmth. He felt good, real good. Just as you had said. He reached up and gently pulled you down for a kiss, his lips warm and soft against yours. “You’re amazing.”

Then, he flipped you over, positioning you on the ground beneath him as he hovered above you. His gaze darkened, love and lust simmering in those hazel eyes. “Now, it’s my turn to make you feel good.”

Lost in the promise of pleasure, you failed to close the ritual and your brewing love potion bubbled, turning into something more sensual…

Eris x Chaos Witch

Eris entered the dimly lit chamber, the hair on the back of his neck rising at the sudden chill in the air. The sensation, once unsettling, now was a welcomed embrace, a whisper of the magic that thrived in these walls. He closed the door behind him.

It was only then that he allowed his shoulders to sag, burdened by the heavy yet long desired mantle of his new responsibilities as the High Lord of Autumn. As he begins to unbutton his coat, the soft hum of a melody reached his ears, a soothing sound that seemed to dance with the flickering shadows. Drawn towards the source, Eris walked into the bathroom, where the air was thick with the scent of enchanted herbs and essential oils.

In the center of the room, a large, claw-footed bathtub awaited, filled with steaming water. Floating atop were petals of autumn blooms, interspersed with sprigs of calming lavender and rosemary. You stood beside the tub, your back turned towards him, but he could feel your awareness of his presence through the bond that tightened in his chest.

Eris leaned against the doorframe, taking a moment to fully appreciate the scene before him. The tightening in his chest blossomed into a pool of warmth, the sight of you bringing him a sense of peace that always left him wondering if this was all a dream. Another tug through the bond reminds him that it’s not. 

You wore a flowing gown of deep burgundy, reminiscent of the Autumn Court’s forests, and your hair cascaded around your shoulders. The humming ceased, and with a smile in your voice, you finally greeted him.

“My High Lord.”

A faint smirk tugged at Eris’s lips as he crossed his arms. "What is all of this?"

You turned around to face him, your eyes glowing a vivid crimson as the room darkened around you. "A little treat for you."

Eris raised an eyebrow, his own magic flickering the candles surrounding the bathtub to life. "A treat? For me?"

"Mmm. That’s what I said.”

Your eyes softened back to their natural hue. “Your energy has been all over the place these past couple of weeks. I thought a ritual might help ease your burden." You gestured to the enticing bath. "To relax you a little."

Eris blinked, momentarily taken aback by the gesture. His eyes roamed over the various jars and elixirs lining one of the counters, each one glimmering with an otherworldly light. His gaze returned to you as you moved towards the array. You paused, studying the selection with a discerning eye before picking up a dark vial, its contents swirling with a strange mist.

You approached the bathtub with the chosen elixir, the air tingling with anticipation. You uncorked the bottle, releasing the trapped mist with a soft pop. You brought the open bottle to your nose, inhaling deeply and closing your eyes as if savoring a fine wine. “Frog’s breath,” you said, the corners of your lips twitching at the slight grimace on Eris’s face. “It’s surprisingly refreshing. It’s the toad’s breath you have to watch out for.”

“Of course. Wouldn’t want to go sniffing the wrong amphibian,” Eris replied, his tone laced with dry sarcasm.

You shot him a wry look before turning your attention back to the bath. With a flick of your wrist, you directed the mist towards the water, where it hovered above the surface like storm clouds, emitting a soft hiss as it settled.

Then, you reached into your dress, pulling out a long, vibrant feather from your chest, its colors shimmering in shades of reds, oranges, and gold. Your eyes glowed with a radiant red light as you admired the feather. “A phoenix feather. It brings forth rebirth and renewal—a rejuvenating energy, perfect for new beginnings.”

You beckoned Eris closer, and he complied, his amber eyes alight with curiosity and intrigue. He stood beside you, watching intently as you cast the feather into the bathtub as if it were your cauldron. There was a sudden flash of light, and the water began to glow with a faint golden hue.

“Looks like you’re preparing to make a stew out of me.”

You turned your head to meet his gaze, finding him already watching you. Your smile widened into a mischievous grin. “Oh, how you wound me, my love. I thought we were well past the murderous stage.”

Eris chuckled, reminiscing about the tumultuous beginnings of your relationship. How far the two of you had come since those early days. He never would have imagined that the witch with a love for chaos could capture his heart so completely. As you placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle nudge, he turned to face you.

“Will you let me take care of you?”

Eris gave you a nod, not trusting himself to speak. His throat felt tight with emotion.

You began to undo the remaining buttons on his coat, your fingers moving with a practiced grace. The fabric soon slid down his shoulders and fell to the floor. You continued with his vest and then, you reached his shirt, your nimble fingers brushing against his chest. 

As the garment fell away, you took a moment to appreciate the sight before you. Your hands traced the planes of his muscles, the touch light and reverent, invoking a delightful shudder that ran through him like a current. Your eyes find his as your hands begin to trail lower, teasing at the waistband of his pants.

Eris’s gaze is intense, bringing your movements to a stop. He finishes undressing himself, knowing that if he allowed you, there was no way he’d have the strength to indulge in the bath before indulging in you.

His hands found purchase on your waist, pulling you closer to him, lips meeting yours in a tender caress. “What next?” He breathes, his nose brushing against yours.

“Do you trust me?” You whisper and though he can only muster another nod, he sends his reassurance through the bond. “Then, get in.”

You extend your hand to him, and he takes it without hesitation, allowing you to guide him into the bath. Even as he settles into the tub, his back resting against the cool porcelain, his hand never leaves yours. The hot water envelops him, immediately easing the tension in his muscles, and he lets out a contented groan.

Bringing your hand to his lips, he brushes a kiss against your knuckles, his amber eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight. "What would I do without you?" he murmurs.

“Guess we’ll never find out. You’re stuck with me now.” You reply, tugging at the golden threads that tether your souls together.

"A devastating tragedy," Eris feigns lament.

"A true catastrophe," you echo, matching his tone.

The two of you share a smile, the look in your eyes contrasting the words exchanged. Your hands move gently to remove the autumn diadem from his head, a symbol of his new rank and the burdens he bears. You place the diadem safely onto the counter and then, you’re returning to his side.  

You sit on the stool beside the bathtub, your fingers threading through his hair with a soothing touch. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," he replies and though it’s not the first time you performed a ritual over him, it’s your first time performing one as his mate and for pleasure. His heart flutters in anticipation.

Leaning in, you press a gentle kiss to the top of his head. "Just sit back and relax.”

His breath hitched as he felt the coolness of your magic radiate from your fingertips and seep into his scalp. You began to hum an ancient tune. The chill of your magic transformed into a soothing, calming caress, gently breaking down the shields of his mind. He closed his eyes, allowing the sensations to wash over him—the warmth of the water, the scent of enchanted herbs, the soft glow of candles.

Eris, who had always been the one to shoulder burdens and stand strong, felt an unfamiliar sensation—a deep, unspoken care enveloping him. It relaxed him, allowing him to be vulnerable in a way he rarely permitted. And in the quiet embrace of the night, he realized how fortunate he was to have someone like you in his life.

Someone who understood the storms within him and embraced them, bringing harmony to his tumultuous world.

a/n: hope you enjoyed these! Eris's turned out a lot softer than I first imagined. I do intend to post more witchy HCs/drabbles but at the moment, I don't have an idea for one. But if you do, feel free to send it my way!

[witch au masterlist]

general witch tag list: @rcarbo1, @scorpioriesling, @ninthcircleofprythian

love witch tag list: @mrsjna , @shadowsingercassia, @acourtofbatboydreams, @rcarbo1, @mvidaaaa ,

@stuff-i-found-while-crying , @lipstickmarks, @yamisukehoe , @mp-littlebit , @thecraziestcrayon,

@talesofadragon, @ceoofyearning, @anuttellaa, @breadsticks2004, @chicken-fifi

green witch tag list: @fxckmiup, @aria-chikage

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human, @mrsjna

[koiiiji]

im here for yakuza!Gun x reader smut 🤧🤧 like, you stayed at his family's mansion overnight because he introduced you to his clan for the first time and when the night came, this perv didn't care there was no soundproof system between rooms in the mansion (ofc, that's the traditional Japanese house style!!), he kept doing the deed, and even warned you to lower your voice if you didn't want anyone to hear 😏😏

ty as always bae <33

p/s: that's the idea and you can customize it however you want, just make sure that he is a meanie but soft at the same time (is it possible hm 🤔)

p/s (2): i have to send this idea right away in case you close your ask box too early lol 😂😂

author's note ; i mean Gun IS in fact yakuza, no? anyway sooo here we go! i had kinda same scenario but more rough and generally dark, like yandere, but fuck it, i think i won’t finish it anytime soon, bc i thought to add it to your request, but i don’t want to make you wait anymore. i think i was carried away a little in beginning, so its longer then expected, sorry!! 💞😮‍💨

author's note 2 ; art from pinterest, it says credits to : jongjong822 on x

tw ; f! reader, nsfw, minors, ageless/empty blogs DNI OR I WILL BLOCK YOU!!!

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

to be honest, you had no plans to meet Yamazaki Gun's family tonight. it's not that you were against the idea — quite the opposite! you'd heard plenty about who his father was and what his family did. there were a lot of rumors swirling around town, and while you were a little wary, you were mostly curious. besides, you hadn’t been together for that long, so you didn’t expect Gun to introduce you to his family anytime soon.

when he told you earlier in the day to dress up for the evening, you weren’t surprised. it was just another night, another overly expensive restaurant, and another excuse to be in his company. as you sat in the passenger seat of Gun's sleek black car, you glanced out the window at the city passing by. the soft glow of the streetlights bathed the streets in a warm, golden hue, making everything feel a little more magical, a little more alive.

the atmosphere inside the car was just as enchanting. Gun had always been a man of few words, but tonight he seemed more at ease, more open. the quiet hum of the engine was accompanied by the faint sound of classical music playing through the car's speakers, creating a peaceful ambiance. you felt a sense of calm wash over you as you glanced at Gun, who was focused on the road ahead. his profile was illuminated by the soft light from the dashboard, casting shadows that only added to his already mysterious aura.

the restaurant was just as extravagant as you'd expected, with its towering marble pillars, crystal chandeliers, and tables draped in fine linen. evening went perfectly. you and Gun shared a bottle of wine, and as the evening wore on, you found yourself getting a little tipsy. it wasn’t enough to lose control, just enough to feel a pleasant buzz that made everything seem a little funnier, a little more relaxed. your laughter came more easily, and you found yourself leaning in closer to Gun, your hand occasionally brushing against his. he seemed to enjoy the relaxed version of you, a soft smile playing on his lips as he listened to your stories and responded with his own dry wit.

when the dinner finally came to an end, you felt a sense of contentment settle over you. the food had been exquisite, the wine even more so, and the company... well, there was no one else you'd rather be with. so you assumed that Gun would take you back to your home now, to end the night on a sweet note with a kiss or maybe something more at your doorstep. so, when he steered the car away from the familiar streets and onto an unknown road, you raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question him. the wine had left you feeling pleasantly hazy, and you were more focused on continuing your easygoing conversation than worrying about where you were headed.

“so, tell me,” you began, your words slightly slurred but still coherent, “why do you always pick these fancy places? are you still trying to impress me, Gun?”

Gun glanced at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “maybe i just like seeing you all dressed up,” he teased, his voice as smooth as the leather seats you were sitting on.

you laughed, leaning back in your seat and looking out at the unfamiliar road ahead. “well, it’s working. but you know, you don’t have to go all out every time. i'm just as happy with oversized t-shirt, most stupidest comedy and you.”

“noted,” he said with a small nod, though there was a hint of something more serious in his tone. “but tonight is special.”

you blinked, trying to process his words through the pleasant fog in your mind. “special? how so?”

“you'll see,” was all he said, and you let it go, too relaxed and warm from the wine to press him further. conversation flowed easily between the two of you as Gun drove. night seemed endless, the road stretching out in front of you like a promise of more to come. when the car finally slowed and turned into a long, tree-lined driveway, you began to wonder just where he had brought you. the driveway was impeccably maintained, with tall, ancient trees on either side casting long shadows under the soft glow of strategically placed lights.

Gun parked the car in front of an imposing mansion, the kind you’d only seen in movies. building was grand, with tall windows that gleamed in the moonlight and a wide set of steps leading up to the front door richly decorated with mahogany. you stared up at it, your slightly inebriated mind struggling to catch up with the reality of the situation.

“Gun… where are we?” you asked, your voice tinged with awe and a hint of nervousness. he turned off the engine and looked at you, his expression unreadable. “this is my family's home,” he said simply, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

your heart skipped a beat. “wait… you mean… we’re meeting your family? tonight?”

he nodded, his gaze softening as he reached out to gently take your hand. “yes, tonight. i wanted you to meet them.”

panic began to bubble up in your chest, but it was quickly tempered by the warmth of his hand in yours. the wine had left you feeling too relaxed to fully grasp the gravity of the situation. Instead, you let out a soft, nervous laugh. “well, you could have given me a bit more of a warning,” you teased, squeezing his hand as you tried to keep the mood light.

“i didn’t want you to worry,” he replied, his voice steady and reassuring. “you’ll be fine. they’ll love you.”

before you could respond, Gun stepped out of the car and walked around to your side, opening the door for you. he offered you his hand, and you took it, letting him help you out of the car. as you stood there, staring up at the mansion, the reality of what was about to happen finally sank in.

you were about to meet Yamazaki Gun’s family. tonight.

you took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, and looked up at Gun. he was watching you with that same calm, unreadable expression, but there was a hint of something else in his eyes — something that made you feel like everything was going to be okay.

with one last squeeze of his hand, you smiled and nodded. “alright then, let's do this.”

and to be honest, everything went better than you had expected. the Yamazaki mansion was truly grand, almost overwhelming in its size and elegance. the towering shoji screens, the polished wooden floors, and the delicate tatami mats all spoke of a family with deep roots and considerable influence. people you encountered within its walls — servants, distant relatives, or perhaps close family friends — were polite, yet cold. they carried themselves with an air of reserved dignity, their words carefully chosen, their expressions unreadable.

Gun guided you through the mansion with a familiarity that showed he had once called this place home. as you walked, you couldn't help but notice how much Gun resembled his father. the elder Yamazaki was a stoic man, tall and imposing, dressed in a traditional black kimono with a hakama. he carried an aura of authority, and though his demeanor was stern, there was something in his gaze — something that hinted at a really small softness beneath his cold exterior.

Gun's mother, on the other hand, was an elegant woman, the very picture of grace and strictness, wearing a beautiful, intricately patterned kimono. her hair was pulled back in a traditional style, and her movements were precise and measured. her eyes were sharp, watching you with an intensity that made you feel as if you were being evaluated at every turn. yet, despite the coldness in her gaze, she followed every formality with exacting precision, treating you with the respect and courtesy befitting a guest in their home. she spoke little, but when she did, her words were measured and polite, though they lacked any warmth.

as the evening drew to a close, and the final course after small greeting tea ceremony was cleared away, you felt a sense of relief. it hadn’t been as daunting as you’d feared, and you were proud of how well you’d handled yourself. you expected that Gun would now take you back home, and the two of you would quietly slip away from all formalities and coldness of this house. but then Gun’s father, in his deep, commanding voice, made a suggestion that took you by surprise. “why don’t the two of you stay the night? it’s late, and it wouldn’t be wise to drive in your current state.”

you glanced at Gun, waiting for him to politely decline, but to your shock, he simply nodded. “we’ll stay.”

you blinked in surprise, a slight panic rising in your chest. you were unprepared for an overnight stay, and the idea of spending the night in Gun’s childhood home — under the same roof as his parents — was suddenly very intimidating. you opened your mouth to protest, but Gun leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “don’t worry. my father asked us to stay because he wants to discuss some business matters with me in the morning. just relax.”

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

with those words echoing in your head, you found yourself sitting on the edge of the futon, carefully prepared by the staff just a few minutes ago. the evening had been long and emotionally exhausting, but now, in the quiet of Gun’s childhood room, you felt a sense of calm begin to wash over you. after taking a shower, you had washed off the remnants of your makeup, feeling refreshed as the warm water rinsed away the day’s tension. the pleasant residue from the alcohol was still making itself felt, leaving you relaxed as you climbed into bed, where your boyfriend was already waiting for you.

Gun was lying on his back, his dark hair still damp from his own shower, his yukata loosely tied around his waist. as you slid under the covers, you immediately fell into his arms, finding comfort in the warmth of his embrace. you settled comfortably against his chest, inhaling the clean, subtle scent of his shower gel, mingled with the familiar warmth of his skin. it was a scent that was unmistakably his, grounding you in the moment as you let out a contented sigh.

for a few moments, neither of you spoke, simply enjoying the quiet intimacy of being alone together. the soft rustle of the futon as you shifted closer, the gentle rise and fall of Gun’s chest under your cheek — it all felt so peaceful, so right.

but as the silence stretched on, a small thread of anxiety began to tug at the back of your mind, and you couldn’t help but voice the question that had been lingering in your thoughts all evening. “do you think your parents liked me?”

Gun’s chest rumbled with a soft chuckle, and you felt his hand gently stroke your hair. “why do you ask? you were amazing tonight.”

“i just… i don’t know,” you murmured, feeling a little self-conscious. “your father was so serious, and your mother barely smiled. i couldn't tell what they were thinking.”

he let out another soft laugh, tilting your chin up so you could meet his eyes. “that’s just how they are. don’t take it personally. my father rarely smiles, and my mother… well, she’s always been a bit strict. but trust me, you made a good impression.”

you felt a wave of relief at his words, but you couldn’t resist teasing him a little: rolling onto your stomach, you now lay on top of him, folding your arms across his chest and resting your chin on them, you playfully asked "are you sure they're not just being polite to me?"

flicking your nose with his finger, he just laughed in response, the sound deep and genuine, and you couldn’t help but join in, the last remnants of your nerves melting away in the warmth of his laughter. but as your soft giggles subsided, the mood shifted, the lightheartedness giving way to something more intense. Gun’s eyes darkened - more, if it was even possible - as he looked at you, his playful expression fading into one of pure desire. without warning, he moved, his hands gripping your waist as he flipped you onto your back. you let out a surprised gasp, your heart skipping a beat as he loomed over you, his body pressing you into the futon. the sudden shift in his demeanor left you breathless, a thrill of anticipation coursing through you as his face hovered inches from yours.

“Gun…” you whispered, your voice barely audible as he lowered his head, his lips brushing against your neck.

“mmm?” he hummed in response, his breath hot against your skin as he began to trail kisses along the curve of your throat. his hands moved with a deliberate slowness, slipping beneath the folds of your yukata to find the smooth skin of your back. you shivered at his touch, your body responding to the gentle caress of his fingers as they traced a path up and down your spine. his kisses grew more urgent, more passionate, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips moving hungrily against your skin as his hands roamed freely over your body. the fabric of your yukata shifted as he explored, his touch sending sparks of pleasure racing through your veins.

“Gun,” you gasped again, your fingers tangling in his raven hair as you arched into him, craving more of the sensation he was drawing from you. his hands were everywhere, gliding over the curve of your back, sliding down to cup your ass cheeks before moving up again, each touch sending shivers of pleasure rippling through you.

he pulled back slightly, his breath coming in shallow pants as he gazed down at you — your hair, disheveled and slightly damp from the shower, was scattered across the pillows, your breathing was a little ragged and the fabric of your yukata, pulled to the side, opened up a beautiful view of your chest, which was slightly heaving from confusion, your cheeks were burning with excitement and still a small amount of embarrassment, while due to the alcohol you barely remembered where you both were.

with a quiet growl, Gun again clung to your collarbones, his hands moved faster, skillfully, undoing the ties of your robe with practiced ease to pull the unnecessary fabric lower. without moving away from you even for a centimeter, he caressed your neck with his lips, moved up a little higher, biting the lobe of your ear and descending in a wet path lower, again to the collarbones, this time not lingering there, but going lower to your chest, clasping it with one hand and kneading it in his large, calloused palm. with each of his movements, you moved towards him more and more, forgetting yourself and melting in his arms, moaning from his each touch.

as he skillfully make the fabric fell away, leaving you exposed beneath him, he groaned softly, his eyes drinking in the sight of you.

“you are so beautiful” he murmured, his voice filled with reverence as he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as you melted into the kiss, losing yourself in the sensation of his mouth on yours, his hands on your body. right now there was only Gun, his touch, his warmth, the overwhelming passion that consumed you both.

“please” you whispered into his lips as he rose above you on his elbows again. one of his hands had already slid below your tummy, stroking your pussy with his entire palm, only fleetingly touching the sensitive bundle of nerves, pulling the first loud moan out of you.

“come on kitten, be quiet, you remember where we are” Gun's hot whisper enveloped your ear as his fingers continued to play with your wet pussy. “you know, this is a traditional old style house, the walls here are extremely thin” your boyfriend continued to whisper in your ear, enjoying your once again confused look as your cheeks flushed with renewed vigor. “you don't want anyone to hear us, do you, baby?” now one of his fingers slid up and down between your lips, smearing the moisture oozing out of you all over the entrance. he was lying on his side next to you, one of his hands reached under your neck as he place one finger in your mouth, making you suck and lick it with your tongue, while his other hand never left your pussy, now more insistently stroking and massaging your clit with one finger, while the other played with your tight entrance, pushing finger in just halfway.

time seemed to stand still as you surrendered to him, your body responding to his every caress and touch, every kiss, every whisper. the intensity of the moment, the way he made you feel cherished, desired, loved—it was all-encompassing, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

and that's when you reached your first peak from his fingers caressing you deep inside, when your hot and wet walls tightened around him, and you could no longer stifle your moans with his fingers behind your cheek, only then Gun smiled insidiously, and with one light movement turned your softened body back onto your stomach. without wasting a second, his hands dug into the soft skin of your sides, right where he could feel the pelvic bones, and with your clouded brain you already assumed that there would be traces there in the morning. reaching for a pillow, and pushing it between your thighs and the futon, Gun hurriedly, casually stroked your pussy, passing from bottom to top, collecting all the juices of your previous orgasm, simultaneously stroking his cock, smearing mix of your saliva and his own spit along the entire length.

whimpering softly and burying your head in the pillow, in an attempt to stifle your moans, you gasped, clutching at the edges of the futon and the blanket under you, as the fat tip of his dick slowly squeezed into your tensed, gummy folds, painfully stretching you. a deep and heavy moan was heard from behind when Gun collapsed on top of you with all his weight, completely plunging his fat dick into your bosom, in one sharp movement, immediately hitting the g-spot, forcing you to arch your back, pressing your ass harder into his hips. with a satisfied purr, Gun covered your hands with his own, fastening them together into a lock, again leaning closer to you with his all body, pressing you into the thin mattress, he began to slowly move inside your warmth.

with each strong thrust, as he picked up speed, with each of his heavy breaths into your neck, it became harder for you to hold your ass higher, as well as your moans, almost drowned out by the pillow. over and over, as Gun's thick cock filled your gummy, warm walls completely, your eyelids grew heavy and your head fell back, right on his shoulder, as your jaw dropped, allowing sweet moans and whimpers to escape from your throat.

“kitten still wants the whole house to hear her, mm?” your boyfriend purrs breathlessly in your ear, mercilessly hammering into your poor pussy, forcing you to give up, and fall on the bed with your whole body, and only moan piteously when one of his arms wraps around your neck and closes your mouth, and the other one gets tangled in your hair, pulling it back just a little.

you never doubted that in the matter of bed, Gun always was a bit more wild and animalistic, but the way his hips slammed into you now, how heavy balls were beating against your clit, and the dirty sounds of squelching and slapping skin against skin, how his biceps tensed right where your cheek lay, all this made your eyes roll up to the back of your head and just whine pathetically under him and drool on his muscles.

you didn't even have the strength left, to hold still, all that helped him mercilessly hammer you into the mattress was the pillow under your hips while you lay under him and helplessly muttering incoherent words and praises. both intoxicated by the euphoria of sex, emotions and feelings, the two of you have lost your sense of time and space, just chasing your own peak and pleasure. to be honest, you didn't think much when your pussy covered Gun's twitching dick with cream, when he hitted his pink head right to the cervix, forcing you to scream and arch towards him, pressing your ass into his hips, and feel with your shoulder blades as his chest pressing you into bed.

and to be completely honest, you almost didn't remember how you both cum, the most important thing that was in front of your eyes was Gun's chest and his warm hand gently caressing your back, while he murmured something into your hair, when he covered you both with a blanket and you fell into a sweet sleep.

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

BONUS ;

the morning sunlight filtered softly through the shoji screens, casting a gentle glow over the room. you blinked awake, feeling the warmth of the futon and the lingering scent of Gun beside you. but as you turned over, reaching out to pull him closer, you found his side of the bed empty and cold. confusion washed over you as you sat up, realizing he was gone.

events of the night before came rushing back, and a deep blush crept over your cheeks. you buried your face in your hands, mortified at the thought of facing anyone after what had happened. Gun's parents, the staff — how could you possibly look them in the eye now? the thought of leaving the room made your heart race with anxiety, so you resolved to stay put, hoping to avoid any awkward encounters. minutes ticked by, each one stretching out into what felt like an eternity. you had no idea where Gun had gone or when he'd be back, leaving you in an uncomfortable solitude.

and just as you were about to retreat further under the covers, there was a soft knock at the door. your heart skipped a beat, dread pooling in your stomach. before you could respond, the door slid open, and Gun’s mother stepped inside.

she was impeccably dressed, her expression calm and composed. you immediately lowered your gaze, unable to meet her eyes, but she approached with a certain grace, her footsteps barely making a sound on the tatami mats.

“good morning,” she greeted you, her voice steady.

“m-mrs. Yamazaki,” you stammered, still unable to look up. “i-i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to-”

“stop,” she interrupted, her tone firm but not unkind. “you have nothing to be sorry of. it’s natural.”

you finally dared to glance up at her, confusion flickering in your eyes. she took a seat beside you on the futon, her movements deliberate and serene. “you’re a woman, and you’re desired and loved. there’s nothing shameful about that. that’s just the nature of men — wild and unbridled when a woman is around. i was in your place once, and someday, you’ll be in mine.”

you blinked, taken aback by her words. was that… a blessing?

“wait,” you began hesitantly, “so… you heard everything?”

mrs. Yamazaki let out a soft sigh, a hint of amusement flickering in her eyes. “i’m not an idiot. from beginning i saw the way my son looks at you. and i know Yuzuru well enough, and what’s going on in his head, to prepare your bedroom far away from our own.”

your cheeks burned hotter, the mortification almost unbearable. “so… you didn’t hear?”

she paused, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “let’s say the whole mansion didn’t hear you… but maybe some part of it did.”

you swore you caught a fleeting, light, and kind laugh in her voice, and for a moment, the tension between you eased. there was a warmth in her tone that you hadn’t expected, something almost motherly and understanding.

“i...” you trailed off, still unsure of what to say.

mrs. Yamazaki reached out, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “you are welcome here, as long as you make my son happy. and believe me, i haven't seen him this happy in a very long time.”

her words soothed some of the anxiety gnawing at you, and you managed a small, grateful smile. “thank you.”

she nodded, standing up gracefully. “now, come along. breakfast is ready.” as she turned to leave, you felt a sense of relief, the earlier embarrassment slowly fading.

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

author's note 3 ; I FOUGHT INNER DEMONS TO FINISH IT I SWEAR!! SORRY THAT SPICY PART WASN’T THAT JUICY AND STUFF, I STILL NEED TO LEARN HOW TO WRITE PORN…HOPE U GUYS LIKE IT😤😤🫶🏻

[nnight-dances]

ONE KISS, ONE LOVE

PAIRING: park wonbin x fem!reader

GENRE: fluff, hurt/comfort, suggestive dialogue but nothing explicit

TROPES: established relationship!au, idol!wonbin, age gap vibes but no real mention, reader babies wonbin like he deserves to be, texts at the end, just sickening sweet stuff

WATCH: wonbin's night routine

NOTE: inspired by the video above! once again, these wonbin fics write themselves ... he might be my favorite boy to write rn or maybe that's just my way of coping!! anyway don't be surprised if i just start spamming u with the wonbin fics i just have too many good ideas. but they're all gonna be set in this same established relationship style, he's just so bf coded lol... anyway, enjoy <3

you've been in bed for a good twenty, clad in cream pyjamas and skincare intact, when you hear the frontdoor open – signalling your boyfriend, wonbin's arrival. you pause the video you're watching on your phone and sit up to greet him, "bin? welcome home." his heavy footsteps stop where his figure finally comes into your view.

wonbin looks wiped out, no doubt, eyes shadowed by his somnolent lashes. he stares at you for a moment before humming, the sound halfway between a thank god you're here and i could die right now. he peels his layers off with speed, black leather jacket hung up on the tree-shaped rack near your closet and his other outerwear finding its place on the small cabinet next to it.

you watch fondly as even in his fatigue, he patiently makes sure no outside clothes pollute the bed. as soon as he's in nothing but his white tee and boxers though, he jumps onto you, deflating the air out of you like a body pillow.

"hello," he mumbles, face disappearing into your chest where he snuggles closer. 

"hi, love," you welcome him warmly, fingers carding through his hair as a force of habit. you breathe against his limp body, letting him unwind on top of you as he often does. it's a silent activity, a night routine of sorts for wonbin on his longest days. he'd trudge home and settle close to you, wordlessly like a cat looking for soothing. 

sometimes, you talked to him about your day and he'd hum along, eyes on yours telling all you needed to hear. other times, you would go back to doing whatever you were doing – watching a show, playing a game, or talking to a friend – while he recharged. he even insisted it worked best when you were just doing your own thing.

today, you do neither. setting your phone aside, you occupy yourself with wonbin himself, first meandering through his charcoal hair and then trailing down to his neck, tracing hearts and stars into his skin. you can feel him relaxing under your touch, his face finally coming back into your vision. 

"tired," wonbin says, voice coarser than ever. "need to sleep." 

"i know, baby," you croon, "wanna wash up first?"

he shakes his head adamantly, "no. sleepy."

you laugh softly, "angel, i'm sure you are but you can't sleep with your makeup on, can you?"

"had a few drinks with taro hyung," he murmurs as if that explains his behavior.

"really? you had time after practice?"

"he snuck it into practice. beer after all that sweating was nice."

"wow, look at you," you muse, hand brushing his bangs out of his eyes, "you sound like an old man."

"i am," wonbin pouts, "let the old man go to sleep."

"sorry, love, i can't do that," you say.

"rude."

"say what you will," you sit up fully, pulling your sluggish boyfriend with you. ignoring his groans, you kiss his nose, "wash up, okay? can't have my rockstar breaking out because he was too lazy to wash his face before bed."

he groans again but this time it's an endearment, his kiss on your cheek disguising his smile. "but i can't move, y/n. please."

"i'll help you," you snake out of the sheets, squatting as you heave wonbin out as well. he stands up unwillingly, head wilting like a sad flower. you laugh, pulling him toward the washroom, "will you listen if i do all the work?"

that gets the job done alright because two minutes later, wonbin's settled against the sink with you between his legs. you crane around his tall limbs to reach for his products, having memorized his night skincare by now. 

cleansing balm in hand, you carefully cover every inch of his face, the makeup turning into oil gradually. "okay, babe, now rinse your face for me."

"you said you'd do all the work!" he complains without missing a beat. 

you glare at him, "i can't possibly wash your face without making a mess of both of us."

"sounds like an excuse to me."

sulking, he turns around, washing the balm off. next, you go in with his foam cleanser, gently circling his cheeks and forehead. despite all his earlier declarations, he watches you attentively, his hand loosely clasped around your waist to keep you in place. you have to scold him midway at one point when he gets cheeky and sneaks a hand down your pyjamas, feeling the hem of your panties. 

eventually, you dry his face off with a hand towel. "there," you peck his cheek, "all clean."

when he doesn't let go of your waist, you raise a brow at him. "you only love me when i'm clean," he scowls, "don't you?"

you narrow your eyes at his tantrum, "i think you're forgetting how i'm sacrificing my screen time before bed to clean you up right now."

he looks unconvinced as he tails you out of the bathroom. he's about to throw himself back onto the bed when you stop him by his hand. "change first," you explain, pulling out fresh pyjamas and throwing them at him. 

wonbin stands idly and it's only when he starts raising his arms up that you realize he wants you to do it. you sigh, "bin, you're such a baby today." but you smile as you pull his shirt off, disregarding the way he instantly flexes when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. slipping his pyjamas on, a piece at a time, you clap when he's done.

"i would make a great mother," you pat yourself on the back.

"you can adopt me if you want," he shrugs and you snicker, "i don't think i need to." 

"you want anything to eat before you sleep?" you ask as if you hadn't quite literally brushed his teeth. "chocolate," he says without any conviction and you roll your eyes at him, watching as he launches himself at the bed.

"quick, come here," wonbin whines. you pad over to your side of the bed and join him, giggling when his body curls around you instantly. his nose finds its indent against your neck this time, cold and fresh. 

for a minute, you think that's all you'll hear out of your boyfriend for the night. but it's just as you're about to reach for your phone when he speaks up again, "sorry if i'm boring."

you're not sure if your ears hear right, "what?"

but his voice is solemn, "...i'm probably kinda boring lately. so i'm sorry."

you turn on your side to face him completely, hand coming to rest against his cheek. "bin, you idiot. you coming home is the best part of my day."

"really? even though i'm too dead to do anything?" he perks up but his eyes gloomy, "we don't even fuck anymore. or go to the movies. or go out at all."

you laugh, "you're making us sound like an old couple on the verge of divorce, baby. you're just busier because of your comeback! i'm so excited and you should be, too."

"i am. but i don't want bore you."

"you don't, though. i'm lucky enough i get to see you at night and take care of you when i can. plus, it's not like you won't have more time after your promotions, right? we can do everything you want then."

wonbin blinks at you, his cool hand finally coming to meet yours where it was still caressing his cheek. he kisses your palm, "thank you. i'm glad."

"of course, love. now, go to sleep or you'll regret it tomorrow," you chirp, rolling over and shutting the lights off quickly.

"...you really would be a great mom," wonbin laughs at your behavior. 

"good night, wonbin."

"good night, mom."

you hit his arm at his brazenness but when he just laughs again, the sound is too sweet for you to even pretend to be mad. so instead, you hug him closer, hand on his bicep and his legs tangled with yours. 

–

bin: I AM FREE AT LAST

bin: FROM THE SHACKLES OF IT

you: …

you: how would ur fans react if i leaked our texts

you: so much for being mysterious

you: "shackles of it" boy have you ever touched a book

bin: okay so you're rude today

bin: i miss y/n mom version

you: ew?? if u have a kink i dont think this is gonna work

bin: because…? 

you: is sungchan still single

bin: i was kidding! haha!

you: ok.

bin: seriously tho let's do smth fun 2nite

you: i get off work late today :(

bin: whatttt you have a life outside of me :0

you: do you WANT me to break up with you???

bin: what i meant was i will be there to pick you up <3

you: wtv man idgaf anymore

bin: noooo

bin: i'll do anything you want don't be mad

you: anything?

bin: well other than leaking our texts ofc

you: i want to live together

bin: ???

bin: we alr do

you: wonbin 

you: baby

you: you just always come over to my place

bin: i sleep there it's my home wdym

you: and you still pay the bills for your place?

bin: i don't make that bag for nothing

you: ok so what if we lived together instead

bin: but i really like your place!!

you: i do too

you: let's make it our place 

bin: shit

bin: i just actually blushed irl

you: :) 

you: is that a yes

bin: i want to marry you

you: okay well let's calm down

bin: did u just reject me

you: i'm telling u that you're gonna regret proposing through text

bin: i love u and i want u to be my wife

bin: omg i just shed a tear at the thought of calling u that

bin: wife…. im changing ur contact name

bin: or should i change it to fiancée? since we havent yet tied the knot

you: park wonbin

you: we are 20 years old

bin: untrue

bin: im 22 

you: i am not marrying you right now

bin: … is there someone else

you: i'm not marrying anyone right now

bin: ok so i'm not husband material

you: you are

bin: i'm not father material? you: no comment

you: but we aren't ready babe

you: let's take it slow k?

you: just move in first

you: we have so many memories to make

bin: you're such a flirt

you: ??? u just asked me to marry you but sure

bin: i'll be moved in by the time you come back home

you: i thought you were picking me up

bin: that was before u asked me to move in

bin: now i have to bring all my stuff over

bin: which side of your closet can i use? bin: also thoughts on letting me keep my rock collection next to your figurines?

you: right side and no

bin: wow u didnt even think about it

you: imagine we get into a fight

bin: i refuse to

you: i'm just saying i would be tempted to throw them rocks at u

bin: you would do that????

you: depending on what u do

bin: why are you expecting me to do anything at all????

you: …experience

bin: wow

you: to be loved is to be known

bin: you can't flatter me now

you: i love you 

bin: …

bin: i love you too

[macabr3-barbi3]

I know you’re on a Vox kick rn but if you get back into Al anytime soon I had a bit of an idea!

Maybe reader was hanging out with Al, not realizing he was courting her (and she was technically accepting) and then she went out and basically cheated on him bcuz she had no clue they were low key together.

Anyway he totally flips and PROVES they’re together…?

I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG AHHHHHH

I did go the nsfw route with this one so 👀👀👀 I hope you enjoy!!!

Tags: accidental cheating, semi-public sex, , possessive Alastor, tentacles as a gag sort of lol

MDNI 18+ 3.3k words ❤️🦌

You didn’t think anything of Alastor’s raised eyebrow when you accepted Angel’s offer to join him out at a club, or how his clawed hand grips his cane a little bit tighter when he spots you coming down the stairs in the outfit that the spider had picked out for you. You give him a smile and a wave on your way out the door, and if his eye twitches a little bit, well- Alastor was a weird guy.

Which didn’t negate the fact that he was hot as fuck; not to mention a complete gentleman, and funny, and overall kind when he wasn’t in a murderous rampage and eating people. And sure, he had gotten a little closer to you lately- you enjoyed a cup of coffee together every morning, he always made sure to save you a seat at the dinner table, he would get you little trinkets and bits of jewelry or treats when he was out and about in the city. Whenever you accompanied him to Cannibal Town he insisted on paying the tab, and always made sure to walk you back to your door before retiring for the night; he would invite you to his room for evening tea, and you had fallen asleep with your head on his shoulder only to awaken tucked comfortably into your bed more time than you could count. Last week he had even given you a peck on the cheek instead of just the back of your hand, a sweet blush overtaking his features before he vanished into the shadows, and it took everything in you not to grab him before he disappeared and invite him into your room.

Because Alastor wasn’t interested in those things. That was what you heard from everyone, from Angel, from Husk when you had drunkenly confessed to him at the bar one night. That it was better to just put the idea from your head, the Radio Demon has never shown any inclination towards things like love and romance or sex. You were loving getting closer to him, becoming a companion he enjoyed spending time with, but you had needs that couldn’t be met by the sweet words and kind gestures of a friend.

Hence, your presence with Angel in Consent. He was here to drink and dance; you were here for that as well, but also maybe a quick hookup in one of the club’s sex rooms. It had been far too long since you’d had a decent tumble in the sheets, and the continuous frustration at being so close to Alastor and perpetually unable to touch was driving you mad. You took the first drink that Angel handed you and knocked it back in one go, smiling when the spider whooped like a lunatic and dragged you out onto the floor.

More than an hour of accepting drinks from Angel (he was the one with money between you) and dancing with any and everyone, it was almost, almost what you needed. The air was hot with how many demons were jammed into the space of the dance floor, sweat dripped down your face and the small of your back, and your chest heaved with the force of your breathing when you finally opted to take a break. You squeezed Angel’s arm in a temporary farewell and made your way to the bar. You thought about putting one more drink on his tab but decided against it, opting to ask for water instead.

“Excuse me,” you hear to your right, and you’re met with the sight of one of the demons that Angel worked with; not one of the actors, but maybe a cameraman? Light technician? Either way, he was someone you had seen around Val’s studio before when you came to collect him at the end of the regularly scheduled nights. He was tall and attractive, and his eyes had seen too many of the shoots in Vee tower because they were just screaming ‘fuck me.’ “Think your boyfriend would object to me buying you a drink, pretty thing?”

“Considering he doesn’t exist I don’t think he would mind,” you say, and when he smiles all sharp teeth at you the low buzz of arousal isn’t quite the same as it usually is with another razor-tipped grin.

He wasn’t Alastor, but you would make do.

-.-.-

It’s barely ten minutes later that you’re walking back to the hotel alone with a stain on your nice, borrowed skirt- you figured with Angel’s line of work he would know how to get it out. You had texted him that you were going home already, too miffed about the shitshow in the sex room to ask him to accompany you, pissed enough that you think you can handle any asshole that might try to mess you with on the way. Val’s lackey had hardly managed some kissing and fingering before thrusting himself into you and giving a few quick pumps before he groaned and stilled against you. Pulling out, he trailed across your hiked up skirt and asked if you had ‘gotten there,’ and you laughed in his face before pulling your shirt back up and leaving.

“Fucking men,” you were muttering under your breath, not noticing the shadows that slipped along the sidewalk behind you as you walked with the strange sensation of the man’s release on your thighs. “Either not interested in sex at all or so fucking eager for it they bust before I can even fucking-”

Something slips around your head and covers your mouth, effectively cutting you off. Your hands come up to grab at it, tear it away, and another circles your waist, dragging you back into the dark shadows of a nearby alley. You bare your claws, eyes flashing red and preparing yourself for a fight when you realize the demon before you is Alastor.

A supremely angry Alastor, by the looks of it. His smile is tense and strained, eyebrows drawn down low in a glare as he looks down at you, nearly a full head shorter than him but refusing to cower under his rage- not realizing that you should probably be scared. “Fuck, you scared me,” you start, pulling the slack shadow tentacle away from your mouth, only for it to tighten once again and force you back into silence.

“This manner of betrayal,” he says carefully, like the words are being plucked from him with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel, “is unacceptable.” His voice goes full static, the intensity of it almost hurting your ears. “Of all the scum that inhabits Hell I’d never have expected this from you, cherie. Tell me,” he demands, trailing a clawed finger down your cheek and removing the shadow over your mouth. “What could have possibly possessed you to act in such a manner?”

“Alastor, what-” The heat of him so close to you, not quite touching but close enough that the slightest movement would slot your bodies against one another, has your brain fuzzy. “Betrayal? What are you talking about?”

“I can fucking smell him on you,” he snarls, and now he does step close enough to touch, caging you between his body and the wall behind you. “His cologne on your clothing, his release on your skin. You claim to not know what I refer to when I could just as soon touch the evidence beneath your skirt before you could deny it?”

A hand comes down to the bottom of your skirt, toying with the hem, and you nearly choke on your breath. The dying arousal you had felt earlier from the demon in the sex room returns at full force, even as confused as you were with the situation, with what Alastor was saying. “Why- fuck, why does that matter? Alastor!”

You cry out in surprise when his fingers reach under your clothing, the brush of his thumb against your inner thigh before he pulls back, the thin substance of your partner’s cum coating his finger. Your face flames with heat when he brings the digit to his mouth and fucking sucks it clean. Somehow, this seems to calm him, his breath steadier and his eyes losing some of the murderous glint to them. “That you would lower yourself in this way,” he murmurs, his smile twisting into something sarcastic and hurt, “when you’ve had an attentive, willing beau this entire time that you’ve not deigned to touch, or asked to touch you in return?”

“B-beau?” His hand has returned to the space below the hem of your skirt, tracing patterns into the soft skin there, only distracting you a little. “What-”

“Perhaps a lesson, hmm? To remind you of who, exactly, you belong to. Of course darling, we’ll first have to rid you of the evidence of your transgressions…” And in a move that shocks you almost as much as it makes your stomach clench and swoop, the Radio Demon drops to his knees on the damp, dirty asphalt of the alley.

Your breath punches out of you when he looks up at you, head level with your lower body, and asks, “or do you have any objections to that?” With his hands fisted in the fabric of your skirt.

“No! No objections, fuck, please” you manage, and then your pussy is met with the cool air of the night as he shoves your skirt up and your panties simply vanish. It’s hardly a moment of anticipation before his tongue is pressed against you, warm and slick and circling incessantly at your swollen clit and then dipping down, licking at you with determination that makes you cry out, the sound echoing in the alley. “Alast-” 

A tendril of shadow pushes past your lips, and Alastor hums against your pelvis below you. “Quiet now, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your sensitive bundle of nerves with every word. “Already one person too many has seen you in the throes of passion tonight- I’ll be damned if there is another.” He licks your drenched folds again, the strong line of his nose keeping pressure on your clit as he angles his head and pushes in, and your hands fly off the wall to clutch desperately at his hair. The sounds coming from where he’s connected to you are loud and lewd, wet suckling noises as he bends and twists his agile muscle inside of you.

The tentacle thing in your mouth isn’t large enough to choke you, and tiny snippets of sound still escape you from Alastor’s ministrations. Your body feels like a livewire, crackling with energy that stems from where he feasts on you and threatens to shatter outwards, destroying everything in its wake. He pulls back and you whine at the loss, the shadow petting your tongue almost soothingly when Alastor looks up at you, eyes wild. “Almost finished, dear,” he murmurs. “I’ll ensure that every trace of that cretin is gone- he tastes vile, not even this much of him deserves to be anywhere near you.” He releases your skirt at last, his fingers pressing against the entrance of your cunt with a smile and his tongue swiping the evidence of what he was cleaning you of. “A cheap substitution for me, to be sure; allow me to provide a more refined alternative.” His finger hooks inside of you, mindful of the clawed tip, and drags slowly, brushing against that soft spot inside that makes you see the white of static behind your eyelids, makes you clench down hard on the digit before it slides out and Alastor stands to his full height again, satisfied that he has successfully removed the cum of the stranger, hands at his waistband and pulling his belt open with a clink of metal.

He hikes your legs up around his waist, and you feel the hot length of him pressed against your sensitive flesh. "Will you allow me to take you, darling? Feel the sweet clench of you around me at last, and erase every remnant of the unworthy sinner before me?"

“Fuck, yes, Alastor,” you pant when the tentacle slips from your mouth, and fucking finally his lips are on yours, and its everything you had been fantisizing about for months. His tongue glides against yours, licking into the wet cavern of your mouth, and you moan at the taste of yourself on him. Your voice is lost between his teeth when he presses into you, his cock like velvet coated steel against your inner walls, still pulsing and twitching from being right on the edge of your own orgasm. He groans into your mouth when he reaches the hilt, his hands tightening their grip on your hips and bucking his own forward to sheath himself further inside of you.

“Divine,” he murmurs against your mouth, sharp teeth catching on your lips and causing blood to pool on your tongue before he can suck it away. “Perfect, darling- well worth the wait, even considering the situation we find ourselves in.” Its frankly unfair how well spoken he still is, even as he steadily pounds into your willing body without so much as a catch in his breath. “I’ll never again be satisfied unless I am on the verge of spilling into the tight heat of your body. How does that sound, d-dearest?”

Finally his voice cracks, his body stuttering against yours as he fights to maintain his control. “Please,” you whisper, “please, I’ll do anything- I need it.” He laughs against your neck and drags his tongue over your sweaty skin, the hard length of him inside of you more perfect than it has any right to be. He fucks into you with a reckless abandon that was surely going to get you caught, moans and whimpers tearing themselves from your mouth when he occasionally releases your lips to nip and suck at your skin. “I’ve wanted- for so long, please…”

“You could’ve had me,” he growls, “at any time. And instead you’ve come to this den of delinquency and allowed another to take you instead. But we’re fixing it now, darling-” His hips slam hard into you, the sound of his balls slapping your skin with every thrust the only thing you can hear under his moans, under yours, the cries that echo within the space between you.

A hand comes up to cup the back of your head, pulling you closer not for a kiss but to rest his forehead against yours. “Tell me,” he demands, and it feels like a plea with how wide and manic his eyes are, how desperately he bucks and grinds into you. “Tell me you’re mine. Promise you’ll never go to another again- that I am enough.”

“Yes,” you agree breathlessly, “yes, Alastor, please-”

“Say it,” he snarls, his sharp teeth snapping inches from your face, his smile possessed as he pounds into your cunt with a feverous need. “I need you to say it, darling, my doe, please-”

“Yours- oh fuck, please, always yours, Alastor- no one else, never again-” He cuts you off with his tongue licking into your mouth, like he means to steal your breath, to swallow you whole from the inside. He releases your head to rub skillfully at the sensitive bundle of nerves above where you’re connected, and your world goes white as you cum, a scream lost into his mouth as you shake in his embrace, internal walls clamping down with brutal force, the hard length of him inside of you more perfect than it has any right to be.He loses his rhythm against you, his pelvis stuttering with a couple more sharp thrusts before he stills, spending himself inside you with long, hot pulses that make you shiver in the aftermath of your own orgasm.

You stand there trembling against one another for a moment before Alastor assists you in standing on your own feet again, righting your skirt and getting rid of the stain on it with a snap of his fingers. He keeps his hands on you after he’s tucked himself away, over the curve of your waist, your arms, fiddling with your hands in the space between your bodies. When he finally speaks, his voice is soft and hurt.

“I must know, darling- what was I lacking?”

Your eyebrows scrunch. “What do you mean?”

“In my courting,” he clarifies, and cups your cheek in one hand. “I so wish you had come to me first if you had needs to be met- surely you must have a reason for why you didn’t do so?”

“Courting? What are you talking about?” 

He freezes, the static fading from the air around you in mere moments and Alastor searching your eyes. “I mean myself, of course,” he says, and while his voice is clear there’s a hint of surprise to it. “We’ve been courting for the better portion of a year.”

“We’ve what?” You think of the closeness you had shared for a while, the gifts and friendly touches and such that you had been interpreting as mere platonic affections. “Oh Satan,” you breath, as you realize you’ve been misunderstanding this whole time- he wanted you to touch him. He wanted to touch you- he was upset thinking that you had gone elsewhere when he would have been more than happy to-

Alastor’s hand leaves your skin and he takes a step back. “You… you accepted, dear,” he says imploringly. “My- my gestures, my affections. I thought-'' His eyes widen and his smile goes tense, his entire body following suit. “It would seem I owe you an apology, darling. I see that the situation at hand has come about of my own incorrect assumptions.” His shadows retreat, the shape of his form already less than corporeal when you let your hand dart out to wrap around his arm as he tries to slink away.

“No! Wait, please, I didn’t know-” He resolidifies before you, his expression still guarded as he looks down at you. “I promise- if I had known I would have never come out with Angel tonight. I thought- everyone told me you weren’t interested in sex or relationships, so even though I had those feelings I wasn’t going to make it your problem.”

“Hence your presence here tonight.” He sighs, the tension melting from his body as he comes closer again, reaches out for you and holds your face in his hand. “I was trying to be courteous in my courting of you; taking it slow so as not to startle you away. You truly didn’t realize with the time I spent with you, the small gifts and gestures?”

“I didn’t want to assume anything and make you make a run for it.”

Alastor shakes his head, a small, half annoyed half incredulous huff accompanying the movement. “It seems a bit of communication might have saved us both the wasted time. I admit I feel like a fool, for not simply being upfront regarding my intentions.”

You also felt like an idiot- instead of talking to him you had let the others scare you out of months of what could've been nights full of blissful pleasure rather than frustrated tossing and agonizing over your own feelings. Just before you could open your mouth to tell him how sorry you were for the mess you felt you caused, he was already speaking, his voice soft and yet rough around its edges. 

"Well, then let's not cry over spilled milk. Too many moments were wasted already, we won't waste one another with useless apologies, since I believe both of us have made our standpoints quite clear a few minutes ago, don't you agree, darling?"

As if to help you recount, he presses his forehead on yours, a slender arm wrapping around your waist, and you can't help but smile back at his grinning face. He doesn’t release you as he allows you both to drop into shadows, and you can’t wait to see what life will be like properly at Alastor’s side.

[safination]

The Wrong Competitor

|Masterlist| Ao3| NOW WITH A PART 2: |The Actual Competitor| Pairings: Alastor x wife!Reader. Platonic! Vox & Reader Tags: fem!Reader, AFAB, Established Relationship, , Alastor is in hell for a reason, Reader is in hell for a reason, being a simp for your partner, husband! Alastor. demon! Alastor, drinking,flirting

Vox approaches with a steady and confident smile. There are two drinks secured around one hand. The other reaches out for a handshake. Alastor takes a step forward, using his body as a barrier. “Just a friendly one,” Vox says, a charming smile on his screen. “It would be a shame to ruin the Princess’ evening. The music is lively and the food and drinks are delicious.” Alastor’s eyes twitch from underneath the mask as he sees you reaching out. Well, that won’t do. He takes the handshake intended for you, shaking Vox’s hand with a firmer grip than needed. You’re determined to enjoy yourself and Alastor prides himself on being a husband. So, he won’t cause a scene—not today at least. The handshakes last longer than handshakes should last. Vox slides his eyes towards you, a smug smile displayed on the screen of his lips. You tighten your hold around Alastor’s arm, leaning to his bicep to hide your scowl. TLDR: The Hazbin Hotel decides to hold a masquerade party. Despite his better judgment, Alastor invites his wife even if he’s aware of Vox’s attendance, who’s keen on competing with Alastor for his wife’s attention….If only Alastor knew how much you and Vox would gag at the idea of him flirting with you. It’s not his wife’s attention that Vox competes for. It’s not even Alastor who he’s competing with. Actually… Alastor isn’t part of the competition.

Have a little brainrot of mine. Lol just pure on crack of the silliest shit. Tell me what you guys think because I found this so fucking hilarious that I had to write it down. Anyway, have my heavily unedited brain rot. I tried a different writing voice today instead of my usual third person-second person pronoun pov, and tried like an all around pov. Update: *6/19/2024 We lost electricity at home so instead of studying, I decided to polish my un-polished crack. Everything's the same, it's just written better and I didn't add much.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Alastor slithers out of the shadows below, stepping out from the darkness that pools underneath you. There are hundreds  of shadows to pop out of, still it’s your shadow that Alastor chooses to spring out from. There’s a smile painting his lips as he materializes. A deer mask covers half his face.

“Goodness,” you say, mirroring his smile. “What am I supposed to do when strange yet handsome Sinners pop out of my shadow without a warning.”

Alastor steps further into the light. “Handsome?”

And oh…oh.

(Oh, indeed. Alastor is wearing a tail-coat, a vest hidden underneath. Oh god he’s wearing a vest. One side of his hair slick back, allowing stray strands to flutter around the deer mask. When you run your hand across his biceps…you feel it underneath your touch—Sleeves garters.)

The smile on your lips widens, and you’re thankful that a mask covers your own face. “I’d call you handsome any day, sweetheart,” you tell him. “If it’s alright with your wife, of course. Such a charming little thing like you surely belongs to someone.”

“I think I like you better than my wife.” Alastor inches closer to press a kiss. “She never compliments me as much as you do.”

A delighted humm escapes you. “Then she’s quite the fool, for you are quite the charmer.”

Alastor shakes his head, a small laugh escaping as he smoothens some feathers that stick out your head. “You didn’t have to join me tonight,” he says. “I’ll be too busy with work to be next to you.”

“Then you should have thought about that before you gave me an invitation to Charlie’s party.” You reach out to smoothen the lines of his tail-coat, pulling on it to adjust its fit around his body. “And I’m already here, wearing a very, very, expensive dress.”

“Do you even enjoy such parties?” Alastor grabs your wrists before your hands can trail any further. “It seems your mind would rather be somewhere else.”

“There’s food and music, and I get the excuse to wear such a lovely dress.” You pull your wrist from his hold, catching his hand to intertwining your fingers with his. “Do you like it? I hope you do, considering I received it along with the invitation.”

Alastor lifts his arm, twirling you underneath to flare the skirt of the dress. “You look almost as dashing as I do.”

“Ha! And that’s precisely why I must join you, deerest.” You smack his bicep in good fun, barking out a laugh. Dear god, he’s wearing the leather sleeve garter tonight.) “With such dashing good looks, I’l fear others may try to take your attention.”

He flicks your nose. “Stop it.”

Alastor slips off the deer mask, gazing straight into you. Those eyes of his shine brighter than the stars above this Hell. He reaches out, and pulls on the ribbon that secures your own mask to your face.

There are feathers on your mask. It mimics the bird you are. Alastor inches closer, staring straight into you once there’s nothing to obstruct his view.

“That’s mine,” you say, trying to grab your mask.

Alastor shoves the deer mask on your face. The force causes you to stumble back a little. He’s such a nuisance, honestly…but …but well, his fingers brush over your feathers as he ties the ribbon on his mask. 

Strands of your feathers flow between his fingers as it lingers. Alastor presses the feathers to his mouth, brushing them with his lips. “I think our masks are a bit too on the nose,” he says, and each word caresses your feathers. “Deer masks suit you much better, and this way, I can spot you from even across the room.”

Alastor inches lower until you meet his eyes. You take the bird mask and tie the ribbon around his head, securing it on him.

There’s a feather that sticks out your head. Alastor picks it out. The stray feather gets waved around until he tucks it within the mask.

You reach out to remove the feather, but Alastor catches your wrist and presses a single kiss on the inside.

“The color of my feathers are different from the ones on the mask,” you tell him. “Come on, take it out. It sticks out a bit too much.”

“I’ll have you know that I quite like the feathers.” Alastor plays with the feather on his mask. “More importantly—tell me about your day. I want to know every second of every minute…it’s been a while since I’ve heard from you.”

“You would know all about my day if you were living at our home with me,” you tell him, crossing your arms. “You know, the home that we’ve built together for the past few decades?”

Alastor plays with the edges of your pinky before intertwining his fingers around your hand. “Or…” he begins, and presses a single kiss on the wedding ring around your finger. “I would known if you lived at the hotel…with me.”

There’s a smug smile on you. “Are you asking me to live with you?”

“Would you?”

��I would.”

“I’m still rather hesitant to involve you with the hotel…yet I found myself sending an invitation anyway.” Alastor presses a kiss on the edge of your lips, letting himself linger. 

“An invitation?”you say, faking a gasp. “That’s weird because I swore the invitation came with a dress as well. Hmmm, now I’m wondering who sent such a piece to me.”

“I found myself sending an invitation…and a dress.” Alastor rolls his eyes. “But the point still stands, it’s safer if you are at our home. It’s quiet and secure and doesn’t have a giant sign pointing straight at its door.”

“Ah yes…that,” you say. “I heard about it on the televisi—newspaper. It must be tiring to be attacked thrice in one day.”

Alastor shakes his head, pulling you into a tight hug. One hand presses on the back of your head, cradling you gently. “Just before I lose you to my job.”

You steal a kiss from him. “As if you could ever lose me.”

Music beats through the cracks of the Hazbin Hotel’s door. Alastor escorts you inside, a bird mask on his face as he runs his thumb up and down the skin of your hand. You adjust the deer mask on your face before following him deeper inside.

The door opens easily, and you walk inside, arm in arm with the Radio Demon. The fun about masquerade balls is being able to hide behind a mask.

 Except from those who really pay attention.

Vox approaches with a steady and confident smile. Two drinks are secured around one hand. The second reaches out for a handshake. 

Alastor takes a step forward, using his body as a barrier.

“Just a friendly one,” Vox says, a charming smile on his screen. “It would be a shake to ruin the Princess’ evening. The music is lively, and the food and drinks are delicious.”

Alastor’s eyes twitch from underneath the mask when he sees you reaching out to shake Vox’s hand.

Well, that just won’t do! Alastor takes the handshake intended for you, grabbing Vox’s hand before you can reach it, and shakes his hand with a firmer grip than needed.

You’re determined to enjoy yourself, and Alastor prides himself for being a Husband.  (Rosie tells him that there’s a difference between ‘a husband’ and ‘a Husband’ with one clearly better than the other.) So, Alastor won’t cause a scene—not today at least.

Vox slides his eyes towards you, a smug smile displayed on the screen of his lips as he shakes Alastor’s hand. It forces you to tighten your hold around Alastor’s arm, leaning into his bicep to hide a scowl.

The handshake lasts longer than handshakes should last.

Vox offers you a glass. “I brought drinks to start,” he says, keeping the second glass around his hold closer to him. “I hope I’m remembering this correctly—but you still enjoy lemony flavors, correct?”

“How delightful!” Alastor tries to take the drink intended for you.

Vox quickly retracts the drink, taking a single step backwards. “It’s for the lady.”

Alastor’s smile widens ever so slightly into a snarl.

You take the drink from Vox, smiling as lemony goodness fills your senses. Not many bartenders keep such flavors. Part of you wonders if Alastor organized the bar to keep your favorite drink in stock.

One hand trails up Alastor’s back as static emits from his skin. It snakes around until it hooks behind his neck to pull him into a kiss. It’s just a quick peck of the lips, but Alastor places a hand around your waist to pull you closer. Such things are reserved in the confines of privacy, but it seems he doesn’t mind tonight.

There’s an imprint of your lipstick on his skin. It’s something you don’t bother mentioning to him

“Just before I lose you to the crowd,” you say.  “I’m sure you can’t leave your post for so long, and I’ve already kept you for far too long. Don’t worry about me—I won’t be too far from your gaze.”

Alastor presses one last kiss on your cheek before walking away.

With a scowl on his screen, Vox turns the other direction.

You trail behind him, smiling at the second untouched drink around his hand. It seems he’s also wearing a tail-coat tonight, but it doesn’t suit him as handsomely as it does for your husband.

“So, it seems you're here,” Vox tells you, that proud Overlord puff on his chest as he walks around the room. “And here I was wondering why the life in the room suddenly became dull.”

“Funny,” you say, matching his steps. “It seems you’re still pining for my husband—Will you ever give up on him?”

“Ah yes…the same husband who disappeared on your for seven years,” he says, casually swirling the second drink in his hand. “He left you once, he can leave you again.”

You take a sip of your drink, letting the taste of lemon slide down your throat even as your eye twitches from underneath the deer mask. “It’s quite hilarious to know you still remember how my husband hates lemon undertones in his drink.”

“Well, I didn’t want him choking on such unrefined tastes.”

“Is this meant for Alastor?” You grab the second glass from his hand, bringing it closer to your nose. “Whiskey. Ah… it was meant for him. What—were you too scared to give it to him?”

Vox barks out a laugh, crossing his arm. “It’s for me, actually.”

“Then drink it.”

“It’s been compromised by your stench.” Vox takes the glass and tosses it away.

From across the room, Alastor swirls his whiskey and allows his eyes to wander across the crowd. In a room full of Sinners, he can never be too careful especially when you’re involved. It’s then that his eyes catch Vox inching closer to you, and it’s then that his grip on the glass tightens.

Charlie smiles at Alastor as he doesn’t seem to be listening to her. That’s alright—it’s quite loud and drinks often tend to loosen him up. Alastor’s looking at her, but his body faces the crowd as he leans on one of the tables. It’s almost as if he’s looking out.

It’s been the same pattern for almost fifteen-minutes ever since Alastor came back with a bird mask instead of his own deer mask. Charlie would say something, and he would nod. From time to time, Alastor would glance out into the crowd in the same direction his body is facing.

“So, I had an idea to get more sponsors,” Charlie tells him, tapping the glass for her soda. “We can do a whole music number with flowers and dancing and singing, and I just thought you could be our main lead! The genre would be rap music.”

Alastor’s eyes slid to the crowd once more. “What a spectacular idea!”

Charlie follows his gaze until they land on you. Well, that certainly solved the mystery of where his deer mask went and where the bird one came from. One of the feathers on Alstor’s mask matches yours perfectly.

“Do you think we can get more TVs for the hotel?” she asks. “And I don’t mean the old ones, but the flat-screens that are about fifty-inches.”

You glance over at Alastor and Charlie when you notice their looks, and offer a small smile and a wave.

Alastor smiles back, giving you a wave as well. “Perhaps.”

“How about some digital cameras?” she says. “All of us could take a happy family portrait.”

“Of course.”

Wait-staff carry trays of different types of appetizers. Vox snatches a couple tiny platters, offering some to you. The first bite causes you to hum with delight. It’s quite delicious…but quite small. Vox offers another tiny plate to you, and it’s grabbed enthusiastically.

It’s great that Vox took more than one.

He bites into the cracker with some kind of seafood on them, humming at the taste. “You’ve aged.”

“Yes, it seems I have.” You laugh at him, shaking your head as you take another sip of your drink. “I’m quite lucky that I’m in the company of my husband to grow old with. It’s quite the treat to be able to live day to day with Alastor.”

Vox offers you a bite of the cracker.

You take it, nodding and humming with delight at the taste. “Oh, that’s quite good—here, taste this one.”

At the sight of your laughter, Alastor’s drink shatters into tiny pieces of broken glass. It shatters to the floor.

Charlies raises an eyebrow at him. It only takes a snap of her fingers for magic to work its wonders and clean the broken glass and replace his drink.

“Apologies,” Alastor says, smile widening just a fraction. It doesn’t fully reach his eyes. “I forgot my own strength.”

Once more, Charlie follows Alastor’s gaze until it lands on you, and once more, the glass in his hand shatters when he sees Vox inching closer to offer you some appetizers and then your laughter.

Charlie snaps her fingers and a new drink appears in his hold. “I’m going to run out of glasses eventually.”

Alastor takes a turn around the ballroom after Charlie kicks him away from the corner. It’s all he can do to call his growing ire to keep the guests happy. Afterall, it’s him who controls his emotions and not the other way around. There’s also the matter of his job.

A Sinner blocks his patch, a doll-like smile on her face. “Do you happen to be the Radio Demon?”

“In the flesh!” Alastor’s smile widens to show off the yellow in his teeth, giving a little bow.

“I wasn’t sure with the mask,” she says, motioning towards it. “My friends said they spotted you earlier with a deer mask, but it seems you’ve changed it. I quite like the feathers .... Although, the one that’s different kind of sticks out.”

A muscle in his cheek tightens. “I’m quite fond of that feather,” he says. “It means quite a lot to me, and I don’t take kindly to those who insult what is precious to me.”

“Oh…of course,” she says. “It suits you quite well.”

She points a finger towards his bowtie. It seems it’s a bit crooked. There’s a smile on her face as she reaches out her sully hands to fix it.

Alastor takes a single step back, making it a point to show it off to her that he’s doing so.

The doll-like smile on her face wobbles a little. That’s fine. Alastor always hated dolls. “Oh…um…,” she says, scrambling to recover. “There’s a stain on your lips.”

His ears flicker for a moment, but he runs his thumb across his mouth. Red stains his gloves. It’s the color of your lipstick. “It seems I do.”

“Been drinking too much wine tonight?” She offers him a handkerchief.

“No need.” Alastor takes out his own handkerchief. It has his initials carefully embroidered on them.  He goes to wipe your stain on his lips, but decides against it. “The wine they serve here is quite bland, but luckily there’s something much sweeter on the palate.”

Her smile fades into a frown when she notices the embroidery on the edges of his handkerchief.

Alastor continues to stand with a smile as she tries her best to compliment him in the smallest of ways. It’s quite nice to hear such compliments that inflate his ego.

Although… It's a bit weird.

The thrill of sudden recognition doesn’t hit as high as before. It’s just stagnant now. Praise doesn’t thrill him like they should.

Alastor allows his mind to wander, and his ego inflated to the highest degree when he imagines you standing before him instead, saying the things this random Sinner tells him. (He should figure out a way to get you to compliment him more.)

Plates of food and dozens of empty glass litter the bar table. It’s the aftermath of downing unlimited alcohol and enjoying some appetizers as insults are hurled that not even a merciful god can forgive.

Vox takes a bite of the olive and flicks the toothpick that came with his drink. It lands between your feathers.

A curse escapes your mouth as you try to dig it out. “Why are you even here?”

“It’s a party.” Vox hands you another drink. “I like the music, the drinks are unlimited, and this is quite fun.”

The drink gets downed in one gulp, and you flick the toothpick at a passing Sinner’s hair. It lands between the strands of his hair. “That’s one more point for me,” you say, pumping your fist. “Come on, TV boy—give me my point.”

Vox’s head flashes. It goes from his face to a screen with both your names on it. The number below your name increases on point before his face returns once more.

You shimmy a little dance as your point increases.

Vox makes a face, cringing at your dance. “You’re such a fucking loser.”

“Ha! His loser,” you say, sticking out your tongue.

“You’re still five points down,” he tells you, scowling as he grabs a passing drink from a waiter. “Why suggest this game if you’re not even good at it.”

You shrug, grumbling a little. “I always win against Alastor.”

“Are we not going to get in trouble?” Vox swirls the drink in his hand. “This is still a royal’s party.”

“Aren’t you an Overlord?” you say, taking another bite of a cracker. “Act like it. I mean, it’s not like anyone’s going to call you out.”

The music catches your attention, and it pulls your focus to the dance floor. Oh…Alastor’s dancing. His broad back puffs out as he moves across the floor with purpose and grace. There’s a charming smile on his face as he dances along the beat of the music.

That looks fun.

 It would certainly be a shame to waste such a beautiful dress by blending in with the decorations on the walls.

You turn to Vox. “Care to dance?”

Vox takes another toothpick, flicking it. It missed the Sinner’s hair. He curses while you pump your fist. “With you?” he says, making a face “Ew—no, that’s disgusting.”

“Alastor’s dancing right now,” you say. “It looks fun.”

Vox raises an eyebrow and glaces to the dance floor. A snarl appears on his lips when he notices that smug smile on the woman dancing with Alastor. “A new challenger?”

You tilt your head, and feathers slide across your face as you observe Alastor dancing. Oh, Vox’s right. There’s a woman with him right now. “Oooooh, who’s that? She’s quite the belle—smash.”

Vox turns to you, making a face. It’s quite funny to see. “Do you even know what that mean—”

“I know what I said.”

His screen shifts and paragraphs of information appear on his face. “Oh…she’s one of the daughters of the Ars Goetia.” The scowl on his face deepens as he continues watching, and he offers an arm towards you. “Come on—let’s dance. Game on, bitch.”

“Just ignore her,” you tell him. “She’s no threat to me, and I allow you to flirt with Alastor all the time.”

“That’s because I play fair,” Vox says, rolling his eyes. “We have our rules, and it creates order. This bitch doesn’t know that…and hasn’t someone ever told her—three’s a crowd.”

Once more, you turn to the dance floor. Alastor’s graceful movements catch your eyes and a delighted hum escapes your lips. His body dances with control and power. There’s awe in the woman’s face as Alastor dances with her. 

That’s alright—she’s only doing her due diligence.

Only a blind fool wouldn’t appreciate how Alastor’s hair sways with each side-step, or how his tail-coat fits handsomely across his back, or how charming his smile paints across his lips, or how the dress-pants he wears compliments how long his legs are.

Vox may be a fool but at least he isn’t blind.

“Holy fuck! Woman—get it together!” Vox points towards the dance floor, to the Sinner dancing with Alastor.

There’s a triumph in her smile. She dances with Alastor as if she won.

Vox watches your expression carefully, chuckling as a cold look steels your face despite the gentle smile. Oh, it is so on.

“Well, this just won’t do. If there’s one thing I hate—it’s those who don’t know their place,” you say, snaking your arm around Vox with a smile. “Game on, bitch.”

Vox escorts you towards the middle of the dance floor, that proud Overlord puff back on his chest. It’s quite easy to match his movements when he always was quite the talented dancer.

“Hey…,” you say, eyes twitching. “What are you doing?”

Vox’ hands hover above your skin, refusing to make contact. “I’m afraid that if I touch you, my life would turn to ruin like everything else that has had the misfortune of meeting you,” he tells you, a triumphant smile on his lips. “And you’re doing the exact same thing!”

“That’s because I’m married. It would be improper of me to be touching such a slimy Sinner.” You slam the point of your heel right on his shoe. “My apologies…it would be much easier to dance if you’re actually holding me.”

Vox steps on your toes, and you snarl at him. “You first, witch.”

“As you say whenever Velvette tells you to take a bath—no thanks.”

“The I guess you say the same thing about shampoo—”

“May I interrupt?”  There’s a wide smile on Alastor’s lips that show off the yellow in his teeth. He stands in the middle of the ballroom, not caring as others give him weird looks for blocking the path. Alastor stands proud as his hand offers itself to you.

Across the dance floor, there’s an irritated look on the woman’s face when Alastor abandoned her mid-dance. There’s a smile on your lips as you show her what real triumph looks like.

Vox smiles at him, and hands you towards your husband. “Of course.”

He takes your hand, playing with the tips of your fingers before intertwining them. A hand snakes around your waist to pull you flush against his chest. The music flows slowly across the room. It’s sweet melodies forcing you to lean your head on his chest.

Alastor squeezes your hand.

You squeeze back.

His legs slide between your as Alastor dips you low, a hand on the small of your back to support your waist. He takes the lead in this waltz, spinning and twirling your around while pressing himself as close as possible to you.

The side of his cheek, nuzzles into the crown of your feathers as you’re swayed around the ballroom.

“I’ve found myself in a bit of a corner,” you say, snaking your hand up and down his back as if to pet it. “I owe Vox two dances. You interrupted the first, but there’s still the matter of the second one.”

Alastor’s hand tightens around you, and shadows flare around the room. It causes dancing couples to instinctively take a step away. “Did he force you into a deal?”

“Not at all,” you say, nuzzling into his hold. “I lost a bet, that’s all. You know me, I get rather competitive, and got a little bored a while ago after getting my fill of food and drinks.”

 “I’ll take your place so just stay far away from him.” Alastor’s smile turns into a snarl. “Don’t worry, he won’t bother you again after this.”

You go on the tip of your toes to press a kiss. “Thank you.”

Alastor twirls you underneath his arm. “I never got to ask…,” he begins. “How do you like my outfit?”

“It suits you very well, my love,” you tell him. “In fact, I have to say that you are the most handsomest of handsome, and those pants really do you some justice.”

Alastor flicks your nose. “Stop it.”

“Should I really?”

“No…,” he says, leaning into your ear. “I want to hear more.”

The dance ends eventually, and Alastor behind you with one hand on your shoulders and the other holding you to escort you like a gentleman.

Vox greets you with a wave, another drink around his hand.

You step out of Alastor’s hold and press a hand on Vox’ shoulder to whisper into his ear. “As you dance with my husband, I want you to know that he’s taking your hand only because I allow it,” you tell him with a smile. “I want you to know that it’s only possible because of the permission I grant you.”

Vox snorts and offers a hand out for Alastor. “Understood.”

The musicians play their instruments and music once again fills the dancefloor. Sinners stay paces away as Vox and Alastor dance, especially given the threatening expression on Alastor’s face. It’s funny how Vox doesn’t seem to mind Alastor’s darkened gaze.  The irritated look on your husband's face makes you a bit guilty. Oh well, you’ll make it up to him later.

The dance ends, and both Vox and Alastor go their separate ways once more. There’s a twinkle in Vox’s eyes as he gives you a small nod of farewell. It has you shaking your head.

Alastor wipes his hands before taking your hand once more. “Let’s go.”

“Already?” you say, frowning. “We’ve only had one dance so far.”

“We can dance to your heart's content, my love…just not here,” Alastor says, fixing the straps of your dress. His hands ghost around the zipper, and it lingers there for more than a moment. “Apparently, I’ve maxed out my working days. Charlie told me it was in my contract and I have to spend them before I can go back to work at the hotel. She practically kicked me out. So, I have the next few days off.”

“That’s good.”

“Shall we go?” Alastor brings your hand closer, pressing a kiss on the ring around your finger. “Home—our home.”

“Really?” you say. “You’re going to go home with me?”

“For the next two weeks.”

Alastor watches your smile brighten as your eyes crinkle. It’s the most precious thing in this ballroom, and its radiance can light up the whole room. You spring up to hug him, squealing as you wrap your arms around his neck. The force of your hug causes him to take a couple steps back to keep from falling over. Alastor places a hand on the small of your back to steady you.

His bowtie is crooked. 

You point towards it,and reach out a hand to straighten the fabric. Alastor takes a single step forward, leaning down to allow more access. The pads of your thumb smoothen his crooked bowtie.

Vox catches your eyes and he toasts a drink in your direction.

You remove the wedding ring around your finger, slipping it over your middle finger instead. The ring and the finger are presented to Vox as you leave with Alastor’s arm around your waist.

Game on, bitch.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Alastor whenever someone flirts with you : hiss hiss, get away from my wife. Reader whenever someone flirts with Alastor: Fucking understandable. Finally, someone with good fucking taste. This is so funny and silly. Vox and Reader are so sibling-coded that it wonderful. I love fan-fiction. I love how unserious it can be

[holycrimin]

In honor of me getting my first ever TMNT Comic,

here's Leo with a crush who gets overly excited when gifted something they're obsessed/hyperfixated with (cough definitely not me cough)

while I did buy the comic for myself (it was an Eastman and Laird's TMNT adventure special) I wanted to explore this more because my brain is way too active and i need an outlet lol

pls dont blame me if its a little ooc, im trying my best and this is impulsive T0T

note: Reader uses they/them, Leo is a massive dork, semi proofread

2012!Leo x Expressive!Reader

Saw something he thought you'd like while on patrol,

"Hey guys, you think they'll like this?" He looks throught the window.

They snicker and shit on him (lovingly in a sibling way)

Whether it was a poster or figurine or comic, he's getting that baby just for you

Obviously he'd get it by paying because stealing would be wrong.

And by paying he means snatching it in the middle of the night and leaving a twenty with an apology note

Because that's what heroes do

anyway

Hops up to your apartment,

(with his brothers watching from the shadows because they absolutely cannot resist a good show. yes, even Donnie; like a true hypocrite)

He makes sure that neither your parents are there with you and he knocks on the window

You, with your ultra smart brain, immediately knew it was him because it was either that or a murderer that climbed up to specifically your window to murder you

which was unlikely, but hey, so was being friends with a giant turtle

You open your window and are immediately greeted with a shiny (not-so-brand new) comic/poster/figurine of the thing you talked about nonstop for weeks. maybe months. actually now that you think about it it mightve been year—

"Hey."

"Wh-"

"No way. NO WAY." You take it out of his hands (gently) and look at it in awe, before looking up at him with a dazzled expression

(If you squinted you could see sparkles coming off of you)

"What- Where- Dude. Where'd you even find this?!" A wide grin on your face as you look at him.

"Oh y'know.. Patrol and fighting bad guys, awesome stuff. Uh, then, y'know.. I found some merch that I thought you'd like."

"Dude he's seriously blowing this." one of the guys (mikey) whisper. "Yeah, he's worse than Donnie." he says, earning a 'Hey!' from Donnie.

Leo glares at them for a second before turning his attention back to you.

You let out a giddy giggle, "ahh! dude!"

"Dude." You set it down gently and put both of your hands on his shoulders. "I. Love you. So much. You know that?"

He blushes a little, "Well, I mean, it's not really a big de-"

"Not a big deal?! DUDDEE I LOVE IT SO MUCH. Is this a marriage proposal?" You say, shaking him a little.

"Wh- um.. What?" Leo lets out a weak chuckle, he feels his face heating up. "Because I accept. Let's get married, I love you so much. Oh my god, you have no idea-"

Ohhh god.

Yeah, that does it.

Well, even more than it already has.

"Whahahaha... Okay, uh, You don't really mean that, do y-" Oh.

"..Oh, sorry, is that too far? I mean, I do it with my other friends, but I'm not sure- Leo?" Yeah, no this is going to kill him. Kinda pathetic, huh? That a kiss on the cheek could send him spiraling just like that.

"Ah.. hahahah! Okay cool, haha.. uh, bye! I'll ah.. see you tomorrow? yep. Yeah. Okay, bye!"

He runs off.

Aw crap.

Did you do something wrong? God, you hope not. Maybe you should tone it down next time.

"Smooth moves brother, really got them falling for you."

"Shut up."

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

Total writing time: idk like 15-20 mins?

Any fellow fic writers feel free to take inspo or even write a direct sequel to this, I just really like this idea and would absolutely love to read more abt it lol

[e-vay]

See, with this newly revealed information for Sage and Aurora's friendship, love it btw, how did Shadow and Aurora's first date go? Who asked who? Where did they go?

I'm so happy to hear you're a fan of the Luminescent Ladies! 🤩 The first date was very casual, but a hit! Shadow is the one who asks Aurora out and they go to a café and end up spending hours together.

Since I've never fully written out the full Shadora story, bits and pieces of it exist here on my blog but sometimes the details change. But here's a very rough version of how I envision their first date going:

(If you're familiar with my story, you can skip the text in blue)

Shadow has spent the last several decades taking odd merc jobs in deep space in the hopes that he'll run into the woman he fell for years ago, but he never finds her. Rouge eventually convinces him to head back "home," and since he's never failed a goal before he decides he has to replace it with a new one: Get to know and enjoy the planet Maria always wanted to visit. So he heads back and that's where he meets Aurora (she does not know him yet, as she meets him later in her life via time travel). He's pretty certain Aurora is the woman who saved him years ago, but since she doesn't seem to know him he thinks maybe she's been reincarnated or something, he isn't sure. He wants to know her better and find out.

Since Shadow's new goal is to better acquaint himself with the planet he abandoned decades ago and since Aurora knows her hometown like the back of her hand, the two decide that she will be his guide (his 'guiding light' if you will 😉 ) around town. (Shadow doesn't need one. He's the ultimate life form; he's plenty fine exploring on his own. But he considers this an opportunity to do some recon to get to know her better). It mostly starts fairly professional even though Aurora does flirt with him a lot (she can't help it, just look at him!) but Shadow quickly becomes fond of her, and he decides he wants to pursue her romantically.

As they are going to bid each other goodbye after one of their tours, Shadow asks "You have a recommendation for every kind of activity in this town, correct?"

A: "Yeah! What is it you're looking for next?"

Sh: "Something... romantic, but humble. Where one might go for a first date."

And at first Aurora is internally thinking "Dang, so he is interested in somebody." But she dismisses that thought because it's none of her business who Shadow spends his time with.

She's gotten to know him a bit by now so as she's pondering ideas she's taking into consideration that he doesn't like loud, busy scenes and would likely enjoy somewhere more intimate, and she remembers him mentioning that he likes coffee. So she suggests this quaint little café that's on the edge of town.

He says "Very well" and surprises her by taking her hand and asking "Would you accompany me there tomorrow afternoon?"

She's shocked but enthusiastically agrees. He offers to "pick her up" at her house so they can go together, but since even as an adult Aurora still lives at home with her parents, she knows that if Sonic answers the door he will be very wary and likely follow them to see what's going on. She doesn't want the date to go awry before it's even happened lol So she convinces Shadow that she'll just meet him at the café.

Aurora is VERY nervous as she has basically no experience dating. She's only had a "boyfriend" once when she was a very little kid and that was really more of just a crush when she was too young to be dating anyway. She also has no idea why Shadow would be interested in her because she thinks she's pretty boring compared to him. (She even briefly thinks "Oh no, what if this is a prank!?")

But upon meeting him at the café he makes it very clear this is a date, bringing her flowers and being a real gentleman by getting her chair for her and all that jazz. Initially she is super self-conscious but Shadow quickly makes her feel really giddy (Ex: SH: "Wow, you look-" A: "Too bright?! I can tone it down! I just have to bend the light to make my clothes darker-" SH: "I was going to say 'lovely'. Please, don't dull your light for me." A: *Can't help but glow more*)

She very quickly gets swept off her feet haha.

They end up losing track of time and even continue to hang out on the outdoor patio after the place has closed and enjoy the sunset together. Before he gets the chance, Aurora over-enthusiastically asks if Shadow would like to have a second date with her and he warmly says yes.

-----

For the record, I'm always open to y'all's ideas of how Shadow and Aurora's first date would go down. If you want to write your own version of their date and it's completely different, I'd still love to read it :)

[seraphdesire]

Regarding Donna Beneviento and her characterisation in the fandom, I think it's important to note that she really isn't the shy awkward adorable blushing mess that everyone depicts her as being.

This got long but I did a mildly extensive read on her character under the break! :)

Here are the notes I took a screencap of, written by Mother Miranda, which talks about the suitability of Donna being a vessel for Eva:

There's the evidence you need that she is severely mentally ill, so babying her just feels... wrong anyway, all things considered.

Note - "and has divided her Cadou among her dolls in order to control them from a distance." While I'm on my 3rd replay of re8 I still don't fully get how the Cadou works, but what I think is essentially happening is Donna is literally splitting off parts of herself and putting them in her dolls.

The main one being Angie, of course.

I always used to consider Angie a separate character entirely but she's linked deeply to Donna on a very personal level. Considering what she's like and what all the other dolls are like - loud, funny, sarcastic, rude, etc - and how Donna is literally the one directly controlling Angie (that's the only way she moves lol, because Donna is carrying her places. Which is also why, when you kill Angie, the illusion melts away to reveal that you've actually killed Donna), I think it's safe to say that's what her actual personality is like.

Also, her only spoken line of dialogue? Please listen to it. For those who are hard of hearing, like me, she says: "don't leave... I can't let you."

Bearing in mind the way she speaks? Her tone? She sounds confident imo. Determined. And perhaps even a little angry at Ethan for thinking he can escape her.

Just a last addition as well, can I say that her abilities as one of the Four Lourds is genuinely evil? Everyone else has physical intimidation - Alcina has her height and her claws and mutation, Heisenberg has his ability to control magnetic fields and metal, and Moreau can mutate into that huge fish-with-legs thing that vomits something akin to acid? Oh yeah and he can swallow you whole too.

Donna, on the other hand, doesn't have physical intimidation like that. She only has the threat of psychological damage (which makes sense considering she's severely mentally unwell). When Ethan goes through her gardens and has to solve the puzzles in the house, she makes him hallucinate about his wife whom he thinks is dead, and about his baby who is somewhere in this unknown country with a bunch of mutants who only have bad intentions.

It's even worse in the Shadows of Rose DLC imo. As Rose, Donna makes her hallucinate the bullies from back home, being called a freak and a weirdo, made to relive the worst moments of her life. And the puzzles too? Hell. Having to actually recreate the scenes of her bullying with wooden fucking dolls. I remember feeling really sorry for Rose while playing through that part.

And yet Donna is still "the uwu baby" because what? I don't know. People love to declaw female villains just because they're attractive (looking at Lady Dimitrescu here). They love to reduce the characters down to their looks and not consider their actual lore or background or the role they play in the franchise (looking at Leon especially...)

Which, ya know, of course people are allowed their headcanons for characters and Donna doesn't get enough screentime to really have her personality even thought of, let alone to be made canon. But I think it's fair to say that Angie and Donna are basically one and the same because they're literally the same Cadou.

This is a quick reminder that you are, of course, allowed to disagree with me. Everyone has their own opinions and that's fine. If you would like to politely debate about this in my comments or in my DMs, or even in my asks, then you're more than welcome to! Please remember debating and arguing are two different things though.

If it really irks you that bad then please scroll, it's not hard. If you don't want to do that then feel free to block me - the button is free of charge after all and should be used more to cultivate your feed to your liking.

[raebae0001]

Where Spring Meets Winter

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

warning: angst, fluff, the usual stuff. my bad if it seems rushed oops. not proofread :) aha

wc: 12.6k+ (oops)

a/n: anyways ive been rewatching tinker-bell and my opinion still stands that secret of the wings is the best. that inspired this, the story of clarion and milori, my heart argh, heartbroken at 8 fr

hope you enjoy, dont take this seriously i was just messing around lol, im not completely happy with it, it feels like its all over the place but oh well, i might edit it more in the future who knows. this is also very dialogue heavy in some parts, and for that i apologize in advance, but it is what it is

oh yeah suguru and shoko make an appearance, not much though

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting hues of pink and lavender across the sky, the fairies of Pixie Hollow retreat to their homes. Laughter and chatter soften into the night’s embrace, and soon, the warm glow of their lights fades, leaving the tranquil sound of rustling leaves in the warm-season woods.

You, however, have no intention of resting.

Rumors of a beast—something monstrous lurking at the border where spring meets winter—have been swirling for days, growing with each retelling. And while your advisors have urged caution, you can’t ignore the pull in your heart. You are meant to protect your people, and proving yourself before your coronation feels paramount. But beneath your sense of duty, there’s another reason drawing you to the border. A curiosity. A longing for something more.

The Winter Woods have always intrigued you.

As the warm-season fairies sleep, you flutter silently through the woods, careful to avoid the watchful eyes of any lingering fairies. The moon casts a soft, silvery light on the landscape, illuminating your path. The soft hum of night insects fades as you near the log bridge—the only thing connecting the two worlds. Your heart quickens as you reach the edge of the border, where spring kisses winter.

The view before you is breathtaking. The snow-covered landscape of the Winter Woods shimmers under the moonlight, each flake reflecting the light like tiny diamonds. The trees, their branches heavy with frost, stand like statues in the stillness. Everything about the scene is cold, yet serene—almost magical.

Your breath hitches as you stare, captivated by the beauty that lies just beyond your reach. You flutter closer to the log bridge, your wings trembling with anticipation. The temptation to step into the snow, to feel the coolness against your skin, overwhelms you. Just one touch, you think. Just to know what it’s like to feel the cold.

Slowly, you descend, your feet landing softly on the log. Your heart thuds in your chest, caught between excitement and caution. But just as you inch closer to the line where spring and winter meet, a soft rustle breaks through the silence.

Your instincts flare to life, your body tensing. The beast.

You quickly withdraw your hand, scanning the trees and snow-laden bushes. The night is quiet, but the rustling continues, coming from a cluster of frost-covered bushes just a few paces ahead.

You narrow your eyes, trying to pierce the shadows beyond the snow. There—movement. You catch sight of a tuft of white amidst the bushes, and your heart leaps into your throat.

“What goes there?” you call out, your voice steady despite the wariness tightening your chest. The breeze carries your words across the quiet divide, but there is no immediate answer. Only more movement.

The figure steps out from behind the bushes, brushing off the snow from his shoulders. He stands tall—taller than any fairy you have ever seen—and he moves with a grace that suggests no threat. His snow-white hair glows under the moonlight, and his cerulean blue eyes sparkle like the frozen lakes in the depths of winter.

He raises his hands in a gesture of peace, sensing your readiness to pounce. “Easy now,” he says, his voice smooth, almost teasing. “I’m not your beast.”

You hesitate, lowering yourself from your defensive stance as you realize this is no monster. He’s a fairy, like you—though not at all like you. His wings are sharp, crystalline, catching the light with every slight movement. Everything about him is cold and regal, a stark contrast to the warmth you embody.

“Who are you?” you demand, still keeping your distance, though your curiosity flares at the sight of him.

The winter fairy chuckles softly, running a hand through his snow-dusted hair. “Lord Gojo Satoru,” he replies, bowing with exaggerated flair. “Guardian of the Winter Woods. And you, little spring blossom, are far from where you should be.”

Your eyes narrow at his casual tone. “I am no ordinary fairy,” you shoot back, your pride flaring. “I am Princess [Name] of the warm seasons, and I’ve come here to face the threat that lurks at the border.”

His eyebrow arches in amusement. “A princess? How charming.” He folds his arms, clearly unperturbed by your title. “But I assure you, there’s no threat here. You’re the first warm fairy I’ve seen in ages.”

You feel a flush rise to your cheeks, though you aren’t sure if it’s from embarrassment or frustration. “Then what are you doing lurking near the border, Lord Gojo?”

He grins, a mischievous glint in his cerulean eyes. “I could ask you the same thing, Princess. Shouldn’t you be preparing for a coronation rather than hunting imaginary beasts?”

You blink in surprise. How did he know about your coronation?

“I’ve heard things,” he says, as if reading your thoughts. “Word travels, even in the frozen north.”

Your shoulders stiffen. “I’m not here for pleasantries. If there’s no threat, then I’ll leave.”

But as you turn to go, you feel a pull—a deep, unexplainable longing to stay. Something about this winter fairy intrigues you. His playful manner, his easy confidence—it’s so unlike the fairies of your court, where everything is formal and measured.

“I wouldn’t be so quick to leave,” Satoru calls out, his tone softening. “The border is more interesting than it appears.”

You pause, glancing over your shoulder. “What do you mean?”

He steps closer, but still keeps his distance, his gaze drifting to the log bridge between your worlds. “There’s more than snow and frost beyond the border, you know. Just as there’s more to you than what your court sees.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words. It’s as if he can see right through you, past the title and the duties that weigh on your shoulders.

A silence settles between you, the crisp winter air mingling with the gentle warmth of spring. It’s strange how comfortable you feel in his presence, how natural it seems to stand at the edge of two worlds with him.

“Why do you stay so close to the border?” you ask, your curiosity finally getting the better of you.

Satoru smiles, his eyes softening. “Because sometimes... I wonder what it’s like on the other side.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You understand that feeling all too well.

________________________

Satoru made his way to the border, the crisp, cold air of the Winter Woods biting at his skin, though he barely noticed it anymore. Nights like this, when sleep eluded him, he often found himself wandering near the edge of his world. The border was the closest he could get to feeling something different—to catching a glimpse of the warmth he longed for, the seasons of sun and bloom that only existed on the other side. The icy chill of winter was all he had ever known, but he had dreamed of the warmth of spring, summer, and fall since he was young.

As he approached the boundary where frost met the thaw, he slowed his pace. The faint sound of trickling water from a melting patch of snow reached his ears. The border was always quiet, still, like the two seasons had come to a delicate truce here. And yet, tonight, something was different. A soft shimmer caught his eye—a glimmer in the moonlight.

Fairy dust.

He paused, heart quickening with curiosity and something else—something deeper that pulled at him. His sharp, crystalline wings fluttered lightly as he inched closer, his breath catching in his throat as he spotted her. A fairy. But not like any fairy he had ever seen.

She stood at the edge of the log bridge, where the warmth of spring kissed the cold breath of winter. Her long brown hair cascaded down her back, flowing in soft waves that shimmered in the pale light. She wore a gown the color of sunshine—golden, radiant, and fluttering lightly in the cool breeze. The fabric swirled around her like the very embodiment of light, glowing against the backdrop of snow and ice. She was mesmerizing, a vision of warmth and life, a stark contrast to the cold, stillness of his world.

Satoru’s breath hitched in his chest. He had never seen anyone so beautiful.

Instinctively, he ducked behind a snow-covered bush, his sharp wings folding against his back as he watched her from a distance. He felt a strange mixture of awe and longing. Her presence, the way she stood there gazing across the border, seemed otherworldly to him. She belonged to the seasons of warmth and growth—worlds he had only ever dreamed of. And yet, here she was, so close to the winter’s edge.

Her eyes, wide and filled with curiosity, scanned the Winter Woods, and for a moment, he wondered if she could sense him, sense his gaze on her. Her gaze lingered on the snow-laden landscape, and Satoru held his breath as her eyes seemed to search for something beyond the frost, beyond the cold, towards him.

What was she doing here? Why had she come so close to the border? He could see the faint trembling of her wings, as if she was holding back, resisting the temptation to cross into the cold of his world. The moonlight illuminated her features—her delicate face framed by her flowing hair, her eyes gleaming with a mix of caution and wonder.

Satoru found himself captivated not only by her beauty but by the way she looked at the Winter Woods, with a sense of wonder that mirrored his own feelings about the world on the other side of the border. She seemed drawn to the winter, just as he was drawn to the warmth of the sun.

Without thinking, he shifted in the snow, causing a soft rustling sound. Her eyes snapped toward the noise, her body tensing. For a moment, he froze, unsure of what to do. Should he reveal himself? Should he stay hidden? He had never been so close to a fairy from the warm seasons before, and now that he was, the sight of her had rendered him speechless.

His heart pounded as he watched her search the darkness for him, her wings fluttering softly as she narrowed her eyes. For a moment, he wondered if she would see him, if she would discover him hiding among the snow-covered bushes. And yet, part of him wanted her to find him, wanted her to know he was there.

He couldn’t help but admire her courage—standing at the edge of the border, so close to a world that wasn’t hers, drawn by something just as he was.

_______________________

Though reluctant, you decide to stay a little longer, feeling an inexplicable pull toward the mysterious Lord Gojo. His presence is unlike anything you’ve encountered before. You’ve heard of the Winter Woods’ legendary guardian, but you never expected him to be so young—or so intriguing, with an air of quiet confidence that seems to draw you in.

Satoru makes his way to the border, his steps soft and deliberate, until he reaches the line where snow meets the thawed earth of your world. Without saying a word, he sits down, remaining just on his side of the boundary, the frost glistening at his feet. His eyes find yours, and though he doesn’t speak, there’s an unspoken invitation in his gaze.

After a moment’s hesitation, you flutter down and sit beside him, keeping to your side of the line where the ground is warm. The two of you sit inches apart, yet it feels as though you’re worlds away—divided not just by snow and earth, but by the vast contrast between winter and warmth.

For a while, neither of you say anything, content to sit in the moonlit stillness. The only sound is the soft rustling of the wind through the trees and the occasional creak of frost settling in the Winter Woods. You can feel Satoru’s presence beside you, quiet and steady, yet somehow comforting.

Eventually, Satoru breaks the silence. “What’s it like, beyond the warmth?” he asks, his voice soft, yet filled with curiosity as his gaze stays trained on the moon.

You glance at him, slightly taken aback by the question. His profile is illuminated by the moonlight, his white hair shimmering under its glow. His sharp features and crystal-blue eyes are strikingly beautiful in the soft light, and for a moment, you find yourself distracted by him.

It’s only when he turns to look at you that you realize you’ve been staring. Your breath catches, and you quickly avert your gaze, heat rising to your cheeks. His soft chuckle doesn’t help, and you clear your throat, trying to recover your composure.

“It’s... different,” you begin, your voice a little unsteady at first. “The warmth, I mean.” You pause for a moment, wondering how best to describe the lands beyond the Winter Woods. Everyone knows of the four lands—one for each season. But the experiences, the feelings, the colors—that’s where the true difference lies.

“In Spring Hollow,” you say, your voice softening, “it’s always spring. The world is in constant bloom. Flowers of every color stretch across the fields and forests, and the air is sweet with their fragrance. Everything feels fresh and alive, as though the earth is awakening each day. The colors are vibrant—pinks, greens, yellows, every shade you can imagine.”

Satoru listens quietly, his cerulean eyes watching you with keen interest. “Are there butterflies?” he asks, his voice laced with curiosity. “We don’t have any here. It’s too cold for them.”

You smile gently, remembering the delicate wings fluttering through the air. “Yes, there are so many butterflies. They flit through the flowers like little jewels, their wings shimmering in the sunlight. It’s hard to imagine spring without them. They’re part of the magic—everything is alive, from the smallest flower to the tiniest insect.”

Satoru seems to absorb your words, his gaze distant as if trying to imagine a world where creatures as delicate as butterflies can thrive. “That sounds... enchanting,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

“It is,” you agree softly. “In Spring Hollow, everything feels like it’s just beginning. There’s a kind of lightness to it, a sense of endless possibilities.”

Satoru nods thoughtfully but doesn’t speak. His curiosity remains, though, and after a moment, he asks, “What about summer? What’s it like in the Summer Glade?”

You take a breath, thinking of the endless golden days of the Summer Glade. “It’s always hot there, always bright. The sun hangs high in the sky from dawn until dusk, and the warmth fills the air. Everything is alive and buzzing—birds, insects, animals. The colors are bold—deep reds, vibrant yellows, intense oranges. It’s... intense, in every sense of the word.”

He looks back at you, intrigued. “So it’s always hot? Never cool, even at night?”

You smile. “Even at night, it stays warm. The stars seem closer, and the air smells of blossoms. The nights are filled with the hum of insects and the songs of summer birds. It’s as if the whole world is wide awake, all the time.”

Satoru’s eyes narrow slightly in thought, his gaze still locked on you. “That sounds... overwhelming.”

You laugh softly. “It can be. Summer is full of energy, and it never rests. But there’s beauty in that too—in the brightness, the vitality.”

He stays quiet for a moment, processing your words, before he asks, “And autumn? What’s it like in the Autumn Wood?”

You close your eyes for a moment, remembering the Autumn Wood. “It’s like a slow, never-ending sunset,” you say softly. “The leaves are always falling, but the trees never go bare. The colors—deep oranges, reds, golds—they fill the landscape. The air is cool and crisp, and everything feels calm, like the world is preparing to sleep. There’s a comfort in it, a sense that everything is slowing down, but in a peaceful way.”

Satoru remains quiet for a moment, as if absorbing the images you’ve painted with your words. His gaze is distant, thoughtful.

“And you,” he begins after a pause, “you’ve lived with the warmth all your life?”

You nod. “Yes. The warmth has always been my home. I’ve known the colors, the life, the energy that comes with the lands of Spring, Summer, and Autumn.”

He turns to look at you, his gaze steady. “But... you’ve always wanted to feel the cold, haven’t you?”

You blink, startled by how accurately he’s read your thoughts. You lower your gaze, looking at the thin line of snow that separates your world from his. “Yes,” you admit quietly. “I’ve always dreamed of the frost, of the snow... something I’ve never known.”

The silence that follows is thick with understanding. Satoru’s eyes linger on you, his expression softening as he studies your face, as if seeing the longing there that you’ve never spoken aloud.

“What about you?” you ask, leaning slightly closer, your eyes sparkling with curiosity. “What’s winter like? The cold, the Winter Woods… the animals?” Your heart races at the thought of discovering more about the world you’ve only dreamed of, and you can’t help but feel a sense of excitement bubble up inside you.

As Satoru looks at you, he can’t help but notice the genuine intrigue lighting up your features. Your eagerness is palpable, and it draws him in, making him want to share everything about his world. It strikes him then how much you both are alike. You’re two fairies separated by seasons but united by a shared longing to explore the unknown. He senses the whispers of danger that surround both your worlds—caution that urges you to stay safe within your borders. Yet here you are, willing to risk it all for just a glimpse into the other side.

“Winter...” Satoru begins, his voice animated and warm, “is beautiful in its own way. The snow blankets everything, transforming the landscape into something ethereal. It’s a world where silence reigns, broken only by the soft crunch of snow underfoot.” He leans back slightly, relishing the chance to share his beloved Winter Woods with you. “The trees stand tall and bare, their branches heavy with frost. Everything glistens under the moonlight, and during the day, the sun bounces off the snow, creating a million tiny rainbows. The air is crisp and biting, and when it snows, it feels as though the world is wrapped in a soft, white quilt.”

You lean in closer, completely captivated by his enthusiasm. “That sounds so magical,” you breathe, picturing the stunning winter landscape in your mind. “And what about the animals?”

Satoru’s smile widens, his eyes glimmering with excitement. “We have so many fascinating creatures! The snow owls glide silently through the trees. They’re magnificent, with wide wings and piercing golden eyes that seem to see right through the darkness. They’re often our companions on the coldest nights.”

You feel a shiver of delight at the thought. “What else? What do you and the other winter fairies do?”

His expression brightens even more. “We create beauty from the cold. We work together to sculpt intricate designs from the ice, turning the frozen landscape into an art form. Each winter, we host contests to see who can create the most stunning ice sculpture. We build towering castles that sparkle like jewels under the moonlight, and sometimes we carve out entire scenes from folklore, bringing our stories to life.”

You watch him intently, hanging onto his every word. “That sounds amazing and so much fun!” A thought lingers in your mind, stirring curiosity. Just then, a leaf drifts gracefully down from a nearby branch, carried by the wind. It twirls through the air, its vibrant colors standing out against the stark white of the winter woods before landing softly in the cold snow beyond the border. You can’t help but feel a pang of longing as you watch it disappear into the depths of Satoru’s world. “But how do you preserve life in such a harsh environment? Is there a way for you to keep the plants thriving despite the cold?”

A spark of pride ignites in his gaze as he explains, “We blanket the plants with soft ice, preserving their life through the cold. It’s like giving them a gentle hug to keep them warm until spring returns. It’s a way of ensuring that when the thaw comes, everything bursts forth in beauty once more.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you can’t help but admire the depth of his connection to his world. “So, winter isn’t just about the cold. It’s about creating and protecting life?”

“Exactly,” he replies, nodding enthusiastically. “We are guardians of this season. There’s a harmony in the cold—an understanding that even in the starkness, life continues. Our role is to ensure that beauty thrives beneath the snow. And sometimes, when the northern lights dance across the sky, it feels like the entire world is alive with magic.”

As he speaks, you can see the passion emanating from him, and it fills you with warmth. The way he talks about winter reflects not just his love for his home, but also a deep appreciation for the delicate balance of life and nature.

You feel a connection bloom between you—two fairies sharing their worlds, their dreams, and their hopes. “Maybe we aren’t so different after all,” you say softly, your voice filled with understanding. “Both longing for the other side, yet so intrigued by what lies beyond our reach.”

He nods, a soft smile gracing his lips. “Exactly. That’s why this border is so special. It’s a place where we can share our stories, our dreams, and maybe even bridge the gap between our worlds.”

In that moment, with the moonlight illuminating your shared space, you realize that both of you are bound by an unspoken promise: to continue exploring the unknown, together.

___________

As you stroll back to your home nestled in the heart of Pixie Hollow, surrounded by the warm, familiar glow of the Pixie Dust Tree, a sense of wonder envelops you. The air is rich with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the gentle rustle of leaves whispers soft secrets as the night deepens. With each fluttering step, you replay the evening’s enchanting moments in your mind, like a cherished melody playing on repeat.

Satoru's laughter, vibrant and light, echoes in your ears, mingling with the magical stories he shared about the Winter Woods. You can still picture the way his cerulean eyes sparkled as he spoke, the warmth in his voice bringing the cold, frosted landscape to life in your imagination. The thought of snow owls gliding through moonlit skies and winter fairies sculpting ice into delicate art makes your heart flutter with excitement.

You can’t help but smile as you recall the way he looked at you, his expression a mix of curiosity and delight, as if he found joy in sharing his world with you. His passion for the winter realm resonated within you, awakening a longing to experience the beauty he described firsthand.

As you pass under the shimmering lights that adorn your beloved tree, you feel a warm glow within, fueled by the promise of your next encounter. Each step feels lighter, the cool night air filled with the thrill of anticipation. You can hardly wait for the sun to set again, for the moment when you’ll return to that magical border where your two worlds meet.

Your heart races at the thought of venturing back to the edge of the Winter Woods, where frost dances on the branches and a sense of wonder awaits. The excitement of meeting Satoru again, of hearing more stories and sharing your own, fills you with a deep sense of hope. Tonight’s memories are not just fleeting moments; they are the beginning of something extraordinary, a connection that transcends the boundaries of your two realms. And as you reach your home, the anticipation of the next sunset wraps around you like a warm embrace, reminding you that magic lies just beyond the horizon, waiting to unfold.

__________________________

As the sun rose high over Pixie Hollow, its warm golden rays filtered through the vibrant leaves of the pixie dust tree. The gentle hum of the warm-season fairies filled the air as they flitted about, tending to their daily tasks. You fluttered among them, your heart still aglow with the memory of last night's encounter with Satoru. His stories about the Winter Woods echoed in your mind, igniting a sense of wonder you hadn’t felt in ages.

“[Name], are you even listening?” came the teasing voice of Shoko Ieri, your dearest friend and the resident healer. Her brow was furrowed, concern etched across her face as she noticed your distracted demeanor.

You shook your head slightly, forcing yourself to focus on the task at hand. “Of course, I am! Just… busy thinking about the preparations for my coronation,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light.

Shoko raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “You’ve been so… smiley today. Are you sure there’s nothing else on your mind? You usually don’t daydream about the coronation this much.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips, a bit more nervous than you intended. “It’s just that I want everything to be perfect for the ceremony! You know how important this is for our people.”

She studied you for a moment, her cerulean eyes searching for the truth beneath your words. “Alright, if you say so,” she finally conceded, but you could tell she remained skeptical. “Just remember, if you need to talk about anything, I’m here for you. You know that, right?”

“Of course! You’re the best,” you said, giving her a reassuring smile as you continued to work, helping other fairies polish the decorations for the coronation.

But as the day wore on, you found your thoughts drifting back to the Winter Woods and Satoru’s enchanting stories of snow-covered landscapes and ice sculptures. Every glance at the sunny blooms around you reminded you of the cold touch of winter and the excitement that surged within you at the thought of seeing him again.

While assisting a group of fairies in gathering vibrant flowers for the decorations, your mind wandered further. You pictured Satoru’s playful grin, the way his cerulean eyes sparkled under the moonlight. You couldn’t help but feel a flutter of anticipation in your stomach at the prospect of sneaking away to meet him again. Would he have more stories to share? Would he show you more of his world beyond the border?

“[Name]! Earth to [Name]!” Shoko’s voice broke through your reverie, and you turned to find her chuckling at your absentmindedness. “If you keep daydreaming, you’ll miss your chance to gather the finest petals for your own crown! Come on, focus!”

You nodded, shaking off the thoughts of Satoru for a moment. “Right, right! I’m on it.” You dove back into the task at hand, but the excitement bubbling within you made it nearly impossible to concentrate fully.

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, you glanced at Shoko again. “You know,” you said, unable to hold back, “I’m really looking forward to the coronation. It feels like a new beginning.”

She tilted her head, her expression softening. “I can see that. Just promise me you’ll be careful, okay? Change can be exciting, but it can also bring unexpected challenges.”

“Don’t worry, I will,” you assured her, but your mind was already racing ahead to the evening. With every passing moment, the anticipation of meeting Satoru again grew stronger. You could hardly wait for sundown, when you’d steal away to the border once more, the thrill of the unknown calling to you like a siren’s song.

As the shadows grew longer, you felt a pull in your heart—a blend of exhilaration and nervousness. The sun would set soon, and with it, the chance to explore a world that had captured your imagination. You smiled to yourself, ready to embrace whatever magic awaited you on the other side of the border.

________________________

Satoru Gojo stood at the edge of a snowy cliff overlooking the winter woods, the chill of the air nipping at his cheeks, yet his mind was far from the snow-laden branches and shimmering frost. Instead, his thoughts danced around the image of a warm fairy princess he had met the night before, her laughter lingering like music in his ears. Every detail of that enchanting encounter replayed in his mind—the way her yellow gown fluttered in the evening breeze, how her eyes sparkled with curiosity and warmth, and the genuine excitement that radiated from her as she spoke. It was a stark contrast to the icy realm he ruled.

He was so lost in this reverie that he barely noticed Suguru Geto, his closest friend and fellow winter fairy, standing beside him, arms crossed and brow raised in a mixture of amusement and concern. “Satoru,” Suguru called, breaking through the fog of his daydream. “You’ve been staring off into the distance for a solid minute. Are you plotting a new way to freeze the entire forest again, or is your mind somewhere else entirely?”

Startled back to reality, Satoru shook his head, a sheepish grin creeping across his face. “What? Me? I’m just… appreciating the view.”

“Right,” Suguru replied, skepticism dripping from his voice. “And I suppose that’s why you’ve barely lifted a finger to help the others with the ice sculptures today? I’ve seen glaciers move faster than you.”

Satoru waved a dismissive hand, though he couldn’t suppress the smile that crept onto his lips. “I’m fine, really! Just… had a long night.”

“Long night, huh?” Suguru arched an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Is that what you’re calling it these days? Because it looks more like you’ve been hit by a heatwave.”

With a playful roll of his eyes, Satoru turned back to the tasks at hand, joining the other winter fairies who were busy crafting intricate ice sculptures from the frozen streams. Yet, even as he helped shape the sparkling ice, his thoughts kept drifting back to her—the warm fairy princess whose name he had only just begun to learn.

Suguru, ever perceptive, caught on to his distraction again. With a swift and playful smack to the back of Satoru’s head, he brought him back to the present. “Hey! Focus!”

“Ow! What was that for?” Satoru whined, rubbing the back of his head and shooting a glare at Suguru, though the grin on his face betrayed his annoyance.

“What’s up with you today?” Suguru asked, his tone light but probing. “You’re like a snowflake caught in the wind, going everywhere but where you need to be. Spill it, Gojo.”

With a reluctant chuckle, Satoru decided to give in. “Fine, fine. You caught me. I met someone last night.”

“Someone? Do tell!” Suguru leaned in, curiosity lighting up his eyes.

Satoru’s heart quickened as he recalled every detail about the princess. “She’s a warm fairy—a princess, actually. Her name is [Name]. She’s… incredible. So bright and full of life, like the sun itself. We talked for hours, and she’s just… so different from anyone I’ve ever met.”

Suguru’s expression shifted from intrigue to concern. “Wait, you know how dangerous it is to linger near the border, Satoru. Crossing into the warmth? That could be trouble. What if something happened to you?”

“I know, I know,” Satoru replied, brushing aside the warnings. “But it was so easy to talk to her. She’s genuinely curious about our world. You should have seen her eyes light up when I talked about the snow owls and how we preserve life in the Winter Woods. And she has such fascinating stories about her home—how the flowers bloom all year round and butterflies flutter in a riot of colors. Can you imagine that? She described the vibrant colors of autumn that paint the trees in shades of amber and gold, and I felt as though I could almost see it myself.”

Suguru sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “Just be careful. I can see how happy you are, but you know the rules for a reason. The warmth can be alluring, but it can also lead to danger.”

Satoru nodded, though a part of him wanted to push the worries away. “I promise I’ll be careful. But there’s something about her… something that draws me in. It feels right.”

Suguru studied him for a moment, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, Satoru. You’re my best friend, and seeing you happy is important to me. Just remember that the warmth has its own dangers, even if it feels like magic.”

“I will, I will,” Satoru assured him, a newfound resolve building within him. “But I’m excited to see her again. We’re meeting at sunset tonight. I can’t wait to share more about my world with her.”

“Just don’t get too carried away, alright?” Suguru replied, his tone lightening. “We need you here to keep the ice sculptures from melting.”

With a grin, Satoru replied, “Don’t worry. I’ll be back in time to freeze the lake, just for you.”

As they continued their duties, Satoru felt a sense of anticipation swelling within him. Perhaps there was something more to explore, a connection waiting just beyond the border that would open doors he had never thought possible. And as he shared laughter with Suguru, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of a new adventure—one that might just thaw the icy boundaries between their worlds.

____________________

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and purple, Satoru Gojo felt a flutter of excitement within him. The vibrant colors seemed to echo his anticipation as he took to the sky, his crystalline wings catching the last rays of light. The cool air rushed past him, invigorating and alive, as he soared towards the border—the sacred line where winter met warmth, his heart racing with eagerness.

As he flew, Satoru admired the beauty of the Winter Woods below. The snow-laden trees sparkled like diamonds under the fading sunlight, and he could see the wisps of icy fog curling up from the ground. This was his realm, the world of frost and quiet, but it felt incomplete without the warmth of the spring fairy he had met just the night before.

Reaching the edge of the border, he settled down on the log at their special meeting spot, his heart full of hope. He leaned back against the cool, smooth bark, feeling a familiar sense of peace wash over him. The divide between their worlds was palpable; on one side, the serene white landscape of winter, and on the other, the warm hues of autumn and the vibrant energy that always seemed to accompany [Name].

As he waited, he allowed his thoughts to drift, reminiscing about her laughter, her bright smile, and the way her wings shimmered like sunlight on water. The image of her—full of life and curiosity—was imprinted in his mind, stirring feelings he hadn’t expected to experience.

Just then, a familiar glimmer caught his eye, and his heart leapt. Emerging from the foliage, [Name] appeared, her wings flapping gently as she glided gracefully toward him. Her gown—a soft yellow that seemed to capture the very essence of sunlight—flowed elegantly around her, and as she drew closer, Satoru’s breath caught in his throat. The way her long brown hair danced in the wind and how her eyes sparkled with joy made her look even more enchanting than he remembered.

“You’re here!” she exclaimed, her voice bright and melodious, carrying the warmth of a summer day.

“Of course,” Satoru replied, a wide grin spreading across his face. “We promised, didn’t we?”

As she landed next to him, the world seemed to brighten, the air thick with the palpable energy of their connection. [Name]’s smile illuminated the gathering dusk, and the sight of her brought a warmth to Satoru’s heart that even the coldest winter couldn’t extinguish.

“You’re always punctual, Lord Gojo,” she teased lightly, settling beside him on the log.

“Please, just call me Satoru,” he said, the playful glint in his cerulean eyes matching the light in hers. “I’m not one for titles, especially not when I’m sitting next to such a lovely spring blossom.”

Her cheeks flushed, a soft pink tinting her fair skin. “Alright, Satoru. And you can call me [Name], then,” she replied, her smile widening.

They shared a moment of laughter, the sound mingling with the gentle rustling of the leaves and the whispers of the wind. In that exchange, the boundaries of their worlds felt less imposing, less daunting, as if they were just two friends enjoying a night beneath the stars.

“What did you think about today?” Satoru asked, leaning closer, curiosity shimmering in his gaze. “Did you come prepared with tales of your world?”

[Name] beamed, her eyes lighting up. “I couldn’t wait to tell you more about it. You should see the vibrant fields of flowers in spring, how they stretch for miles. The spring fairies have this beautiful tradition of dancing among them, bringing the blooms to life each day with their laughter.”

“Dancing? That sounds enchanting,” Satoru said, captivated. He imagined the sight vividly, fairies twirling amidst waves of color, laughter ringing through the air. “What about friends? Do you have anyone special you hangout with?”

[Name]’s eyes sparkled with delight as she leaned in closer, eager to share her stories. “Mhmm! There’s Shoko, my best friend. She’s a healer and knows everything there is to know about plants and potions. Her knowledge is incredible! Just the other day, she helped a sick flower bloom again with her remedies. It was a sight to behold!”

Satoru grinned, envisioning the scene. “A healer? Sounds like someone you can always count on when you need help.”

“Oh, for sure!” [Name] nodded enthusiastically. “She’s always there for me, whether it’s helping me prepare for my coronation or simply listening to my thoughts. I don’t know what I’d do without her.” A soft smile touched her lips, warmth evident in her voice as she spoke about her friend.

“What about you?” she asked, turning the conversation toward him. “What about your friends in the Winter Woods?”

Satoru chuckled lightly, scratching the back of his head in thought. “Well, I have Suguru, my longest friend. He’s the serious type, always keeping me grounded,” he said, a fond smile creeping onto his face. “He’s the only one who can smack me out of my daydreams, believe me. But he’s also fiercely loyal. I can always count on him to have my back, even when I’m being... well, me.”

“Oh?” [Name] raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s it like having a friend who keeps you in line?”

“It’s a little annoying, to be honest,” he admitted, laughing. “But I wouldn’t trade it for anything. He pushes me to be better, to focus on my responsibilities. Just the other day, we were out gathering supplies for the winter festivities, and I was completely distracted, thinking about—well, you know—everything,” he confessed, a hint of shyness coloring his cheeks.

“What were you thinking about?” [Name] asked, leaning in closer, her curiosity piqued.

“Uh, well… you,” Satoru said, a bit sheepishly. “I mean, I just met you, and you’ve already made such an impression on me. It’s hard not to think about someone so bright and lively. Anyway, Suguru caught me daydreaming and smacked the back of my head to bring me back to reality.”

She burst out laughing, her melodious giggles ringing through the air. “Oh no! That sounds painful! But I get it. You’ve made quite the impression on me too.”

Satoru felt warmth spread through him at her words, an unexpected joy flooding his heart. “You really think so?”

“Definitely! Your stories about the Winter Woods and the snow owls—everything you do to keep your world alive—it’s all amazing!” [Name] exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious. “I love hearing about your life. It’s so different from mine.”

Satoru smiled, his heart swelling with pride. “Well, speaking of stories, there was this one time Suguru and I decided to explore deeper into the woods. We ended up getting caught in a snowstorm!” He chuckled, shaking his head at the memory. “I thought we were going to freeze to death! But we built a little snow shelter and waited it out. Suguru kept grumbling about my recklessness while I just sat there, enjoying the snowflakes.”

“Did you have fun despite the storm?” [Name] asked, her eyes wide with intrigue.

“Surprisingly, yes! Watching the snow fall around us was like being in a dream. Plus, the snowball fights we had afterward were legendary! Suguru never stood a chance against my expert aim.” He winked, his confidence shining through.

“You’re quite the adventurer, aren’t you?” she teased, her voice light. “I can’t imagine what a snowball fight looks like with winter fairies. It must be epic!”

“Only the best!” he said proudly. “But it’s nothing compared to your dancing among the flowers. I’d love to see that one day. I bet it’s a sight to behold.”

The moon began to rise, casting a silvery glow around them, but neither of them noticed the time slipping away as they lost themselves in their shared tales, eagerly looking forward to the next chapter of their friendship.

As the days turned into weeks, the sun and moon danced across the sky, marking the passage of time in Pixie Hollow and the Winter Woods. Each evening, as the sun dipped low and painted the horizon with hues of amber and lavender, [Name] and Satoru found themselves drawn to the border once more. The log bridge, once just a crossing point between two worlds, transformed into a sacred space where their connection deepened with each meeting.

Satoru cherished the moments spent beside [Name], his heart fluttering at the sight of her as she flitted gracefully through the air, her wings sparkling like sunlight on water. He’d wait at their spot, excitement bubbling within him, anticipation igniting his spirit. And as she appeared, her radiant smile would light up the night, washing away the chill that lingered in the air.

They talked about everything and nothing, sharing their hopes, dreams, and secrets under the vast tapestry of stars. [Name] would tell Satoru about the vibrant flowers in her land, painting vivid pictures of sprawling meadows filled with blossoms that danced with the breeze. Satoru listened intently, his heart swelling with admiration, fascinated by how deeply she cared for her world and those in it.

Conversely, [Name] found herself enchanted by Satoru’s tales of winter. He painted a portrait of a world blanketed in white, where icicles hung like chandeliers from branches, and the air was filled with the soft hooting of snow owls. She could almost feel the cold air brushing against her cheeks as he spoke, the magic of his words transporting her to his frozen realm.

But it wasn’t just the stories that captivated them; it was the connection that bloomed between them—a bond forged in laughter, curiosity, and unspoken understanding. The more they met, the more they revealed their true selves. Satoru admired [Name]’s strength and determination, her ability to remain steadfast even when faced with the burdens of her responsibilities as a princess. He saw how fiercely she cared for her people, her laughter a breath of fresh air that brightened the somber winter nights.

In return, [Name] admired Satoru’s playful spirit and unwavering confidence. He had a way of making the world feel lighter, as if the burdens they both carried could be shared through their friendship. She found herself looking forward to his laughter, the warmth of his presence enveloping her like a comforting blanket. He had a knack for turning mundane moments into magical ones, filling her nights with joy and excitement.

As time wove its intricate tapestry, they began to notice subtle changes within themselves. The laughter shared transformed into something deeper, a current of unspoken feelings flowing between them. Satoru would find himself stealing glances at [Name], his heart racing whenever their eyes met. The way her laughter echoed in the night air resonated within him, a melody he could never forget.

Meanwhile, [Name] felt a flutter in her chest that she couldn’t quite explain. It was more than friendship; it was a warmth that spread through her, igniting a longing to be closer, to know Satoru in ways that transcended mere conversation. She found herself daydreaming about their next meeting, her heart racing at the thought of sharing yet another night beneath the stars.

One evening, as they sat together at the border, the air thick with anticipation, Satoru brushed a stray lock of hair from [Name]’s face, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through her, her breath catching in her throat. She looked up, her heart pounding as she met his gaze. The moment stretched between them, a fragile silence filled with unspoken words, each one swirling with possibility.

“I…” Satoru began, his voice soft but earnest. But before he could finish, the moment was interrupted by the sudden sound of a distant hoot, pulling them back to reality. They exchanged shy smiles, but both knew that the atmosphere had shifted. Something had changed between them, and they could no longer ignore the feelings brewing just beneath the surface.

As the nights continued to unfold, they began to embrace these feelings, dancing around the truth like fireflies in the summer dusk. [Name] would catch herself stealing glances at Satoru, her heart racing as he animatedly recounted tales of winter adventures, the way his blue eyes sparkled with passion making her stomach flutter. Satoru, too, would often find himself lost in thought, imagining what it would be like to hold her hand, to feel her warmth against him, to share not just their worlds but their hearts.

Each night they spent together was a delicate dance of friendship and burgeoning affection. They would talk about their dreams, their fears, and their futures, always staying just shy of crossing that invisible line. They were bound by the knowledge of the dangers that lurked beyond their worlds—the whispers of disapproval from their respective realms, the looming responsibilities that awaited them. Yet, in those moments by the border, they carved out a sanctuary where the outside world faded away.

Then came a night when the stars shone brighter than ever, their light reflecting off the snow, creating a breathtakingly beautiful scene. [Name] watched in awe, her eyes wide with wonder, as Satoru caught a snowflake on his outstretched palm. “See?” he grinned, turning to her. “Winter is magical, isn’t it?”

“It truly is,” she agreed, her heart swelling with admiration for him. The snowflakes twinkled in the moonlight, casting a soft glow around them. It was as if the universe itself conspired to create a perfect moment for them.

As they continued to sit side by side, the air was thick with unvoiced emotions. [Name] turned to Satoru, her heart pounding in her chest, and the words that had been dancing on the tip of her tongue finally tumbled forth. “Satoru, I—”

But he interrupted, his voice gentle and sincere. “I know, [Name]. I feel it too.” His blue eyes searched hers, holding a depth of understanding that made her breath hitch. “It’s more than just friendship, isn’t it?”

Her heart raced as she nodded, feeling the weight of their shared emotions settle between them. The air crackled with energy, the world around them fading as they leaned closer, caught in the magnetic pull of one another. In that moment, they both realized that what they felt was undeniable—a beautiful intertwining of two hearts longing to bridge the gap between their worlds.

Yet, as they sat there, a hush enveloping them, uncertainty crept in. The awareness of their different worlds lingered like a shadow. They hesitated, caught in the delicate balance of newfound feelings and the unspoken fears that held them back. Satoru could see the conflict in [Name]’s eyes, a flicker of longing mingling with doubt.

“Maybe we should take it slow,” he suggested, a hint of reluctance in his voice, as if to protect the fragile bond they had forged. “There’s so much we don’t know about each other, and our worlds are... complicated.”

“Yeah,” [Name] agreed softly, her heart sinking a little. “It’s just… I never expected to feel this way about you.” The words hung in the air between them, a mixture of hope and apprehension.

“Me neither,” Satoru confessed, his gaze lingering on her, a mixture of admiration and longing dancing in his eyes. “But I don’t want to lose what we have.”

“Me neither,” she echoed, a smile breaking through the uncertainty. “Let’s just enjoy this, then. Whatever ‘this’ is.”

As they sat together, enveloped in the magical night, they made a silent pact to cherish their friendship and the growing connection between them, even if they weren’t ready to act on it just yet. They would continue to meet at the border, sharing their lives, dreams, and stories—building a foundation for something more, one precious moment at a time.

________________

The sun filtered through the leaves of Pixie Hollow, casting dappled shadows across the ground as [Name] flitted about, her wings shimmering with a newfound vibrancy. Each day had felt like a page from a dream since she had met Satoru. She couldn't help but smile as she recalled their enchanting conversations under the stars, the warmth of his presence that contrasted so beautifully with the chill of his realm. It was a feeling she had never experienced before, a heady mixture of excitement and longing that painted her world in shades of wonder.

However, her exuberance hadn’t gone unnoticed. Shoko had observed the subtle changes in [Name]’s demeanor. Shoko was wise beyond her years, possessing a keen intuition that often led her to the heart of matters before they fully revealed themselves. With each passing day, she saw [Name]’s smiles grow brighter, her laughter more effervescent, as if a hidden light had ignited within her. But it was not just the smiles that raised Shoko’s concern; it was the way [Name] often drifted off into daydreams, her gaze distant, as if she were peering through the veil that separated their worlds.

One afternoon, as they settled on a mossy patch beneath an ancient oak, Shoko’s curiosity could no longer be contained. “You seem… different lately,” she remarked, tilting her head slightly, her golden hair cascading over her shoulder. “I mean it in the best way possible, but you’ve been smiling a lot more. Almost like you’re in love.”

Caught off guard, [Name] felt her cheeks heat up at the mention of love, her heart skipping a beat. She had never been one to hide her emotions, but the connection she shared with Satoru felt so profound, so delicate, that she had hesitated to speak of it. Still, Shoko’s gentle probing coaxed the truth from her.

“I—well, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” [Name] finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. As she looked into Shoko’s eyes, she saw a mixture of anticipation and concern reflected back at her. It encouraged her to continue. “I met someone. At the border, on a night when the moon was full and bright.”

The words spilled out, a torrent of excitement and trepidation. [Name] recounted the night of their first meeting, describing Satoru’s striking white hair, the way his blue eyes glimmered with mischief and warmth. She spoke of their shared stories, the enchanting evenings spent under the starlit sky, where laughter rang like chimes in the breeze. The memories flowed easily, and with each detail shared, she felt the weight of her secret lift. She spoke of their meetings, how they had become a cherished part of her existence, like the changing seasons that brought new life to her world.

But as she continued, she could see the shift in Shoko’s expression. The initial glimmer of excitement in her eyes began to fade, replaced by concern that etched deeper lines into her brow. Shoko listened intently, her posture tense as she absorbed the words spilling from [Name]’s heart. When [Name] finally finished her tale, there was a heavy silence that settled between them, the soft rustle of leaves filling the air.

“You know this isn’t just some innocent romance, right?” Shoko finally spoke, her voice firm but gentle. “You’re aware of the dangers, [Name]? Winter fairies dwell in their realm for a reason. The temperature change—”

“I know, I know,” [Name] interjected, a hint of impatience creeping into her tone. She had been grappling with the reality of their situation, the inherent risks that loomed like shadows over their growing bond. “But Satoru is… he’s incredible, Shoko. He makes me feel alive in a way I’ve never felt before. We understand each other, and I can’t just walk away from that.”

Shoko sighed, her expression softening as she took [Name]’s hands in hers, their fingers intertwined. “I see how happy you are, and I want that for you. But love is complicated, especially when it involves crossing the borders of our worlds. What if something happens? What if he gets too close and you’re unable to survive the cold?”

[Name] could feel her heart sink at the thought. She had been so wrapped up in the magic of their connection that she hadn’t fully considered the consequences of their actions. But every time she thought of Satoru, the warmth he brought into her life, her resolve strengthened. “But what if I miss out on something extraordinary? I’ve always dreamed of knowing more than just Pixie Hollow. Satoru gives me that chance.”

Shoko remained quiet, her gaze searching [Name]’s face, as if weighing the sincerity of her words. Finally, she spoke, her tone softening. “Just be careful, okay? I don’t want to see you hurt. You have a beautiful heart, and it deserves to be protected.”

“I promise to be careful,” [Name] assured her, squeezing Shoko’s hands tightly. “But I also need you to trust me. I can handle this. I know it’s risky, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Shoko nodded, albeit reluctantly, the weight of her concern still heavy on her shoulders. “I trust you, [Name]. Just… promise me you’ll keep an open mind about what’s best for you. And remember, I’m here for you, no matter what happens.”

As the sun dipped lower, casting a warm glow across the landscape, [Name] felt a wave of relief wash over her. The burden of secrecy had been lifted, and she was grateful for Shoko’s understanding, even if it came with a hint of worry. They remained seated in comfortable silence for a while, the bond of their friendship reaffirmed, but [Name] couldn’t shake the feeling that the path ahead would be anything but simple.

And as she thought of Satoru, a blend of excitement and apprehension churned within her. She was ready to embrace the unknown, but she also knew the challenges that lay ahead. With a heart full of hope and a resolve to navigate whatever came her way, [Name] prepared to face the future, one magical night at a time.

___________________________

The moon hung like a glowing pearl in the velvety sky, casting a serene light over the border that separated the warm realm from the cold Winter Woods. The air was thick with anticipation, charged with an energy that neither [Name] nor Satoru could ignore any longer. They sat side by side at their familiar spot, where the glimmering fairy dust intertwined with the soft snow, both acutely aware of the feelings simmering just beneath the surface.

For weeks, they had exchanged stories and laughter, their bond growing stronger with each stolen moment. Yet tonight felt different; a powerful urge lingered in the space between them, an unspoken acknowledgment of what they both yearned for but had hesitated to voice. Satoru’s heart raced as he glanced at [Name], her warm presence igniting a fire within him. The way her eyes sparkled under the moonlight drew him in, making it increasingly difficult to resist the pull between them.

“I wish I could show you my world,” she began, her voice soft but filled with passion. “The colors of the flowers in bloom, the gentle rustle of leaves… it’s all so magical.” The longing in her voice stirred something deep within him, a wish to experience all the warmth and vibrancy she spoke of. But as the words left her lips, he felt the weight of their situation—a chasm between their worlds that felt insurmountable.

“Satoru, what if…” [Name] hesitated, her brow furrowing as she met his gaze, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “What if it’s too dangerous for you to come to my side? The warmth—”

He leaned closer, his expression earnest. “I want to be with you, [Name]. No matter the risk.” His determination resonated in the air, making her pulse quicken. Yet, she could see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, the fear of the unknown that lingered beneath his bravado.

“I can’t let you get hurt,” she replied, concern lacing her tone. “You don’t know what the warmth can do to you.”

But Satoru was resolute. The thought of being apart from her any longer felt unbearable. “I would rather feel the warmth and risk it all than stay on my side, longing for you. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

The moment hung between them, charged with possibility. He knew the risks, yet the prospect of crossing that boundary felt monumental. After what felt like an eternity of searching each other’s eyes, Satoru took a deep breath and stepped forward, standing at the edge of the border where winter met warmth.

“Let me show you what it’s like to be here with me.” The sincerity in his voice softened the tension between them. He glanced back at her, excitement mingling with a hint of nervousness.

After a moment of hesitation, [Name] finally nodded, her heart swelling with a mixture of hope and concern. “Okay, but promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I promise,” he assured her, determination igniting within him.

With a final glance to solidify his resolve, Satoru took that crucial step across the line. The moment he crossed into her world, a wave of warmth enveloped him, a rush of sensations unlike anything he had ever experienced. It felt as though the sun itself had wrapped him in its embrace, igniting every nerve ending in his body. His wings tingled with an electrifying sensation, as if they were awakening to a reality he had longed to know.

He glanced around in disbelief, soaking in the vibrant colors surrounding him. The autumn leaves danced playfully in the breeze, the air fragrant with the scent of blooming flowers. It was a stark contrast to the snowy landscape of Winter Woods he had always known.

“We’re… together,” he whispered, awe washing over him as he turned to face [Name]. Her eyes sparkled with joy and relief, a mirror to his own emotions. The thrill of finally being in the same world, of closing the distance that had kept them apart for so long, was intoxicating.

As they stood there, heartbeats quickening in unison, an electric tension filled the space between them. They hesitated, caught in the moment of realization that they had crossed not just the physical boundary but an emotional one as well.

With an instinctive pull, they surged into each other’s arms, holding on tightly as if afraid to let go. Satoru lifted her off the ground, twirling her under the moonlight, laughter bubbling up as they reveled in the sheer joy of being together.

The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them enveloped in a cocoon of warmth and magic. When he finally set her down, they remained close, unwilling to break the contact that felt so right. Their eyes sparkled with happiness, love filling the space that had once felt impossibly vast.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” [Name] breathed, her heart soaring as she gazed up at him. “I want to show you everything! The gardens, the streams, the sunset over the valley… there’s so much to see!” Her excitement bubbled over, each word laced with the enthusiasm of sharing her world.

Satoru’s heart swelled with warmth, a smile breaking across his face as he envisioned all the moments they could share together. “I want to see it all with you,” he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. The thrill of the adventure ahead made his heart race faster.

In that moment, everything felt possible. They stood in each other’s space, their breaths mingling in the cool night air, both knowing this was a turning point—a moment that would define the beginning of a new chapter in their lives. As they shared smiles filled with love and longing, the world around them felt vibrant, alive, and filled with endless potential.

As Satoru stood, enveloped in the warmth of [Name]'s world, an exhilarating thrill coursed through him—until, quite suddenly, he felt a peculiar heat begin to radiate from the tips of his wings. It started as a gentle tingle, but it quickly intensified, spreading through the delicate, shimmering membranes like wildfire. A shocked yelp escaped his lips, and he fell to his knees, his heart racing with alarm.

The pleasant warmth that had enveloped him moments before morphed into something alarming, an unsettling sensation that made his skin prickle. He could feel the sweat pooling on his brow as he struggled to understand what was happening. Panic surged within him as he looked down, horrified to see that the edges of his wings were beginning to melt, the ethereal strands dissolving into a shimmering mist that drifted away like fireflies in the night.

“[Name]!” he gasped, his voice strained, a mixture of fear and confusion coloring his tone. He could feel the heat intensifying, and his heart raced with panic. “Something’s wrong!”

At the sound of his distress, [Name] knelt before him, her eyes wide with concern. “Satoru! What’s happening?” she cried, panic rising in her chest as she studied him closely. The realization hit her like a blow: his wings were melting away, and with it, a part of his very being. “We need to get you back to the winter side!”

She reached out, her hands trembling as she grasped his shoulders, willing him to rise. “Come on, we have to hurry!”

Satoru could only nod, his breath coming in shallow gasps as the heat threatened to overwhelm him. “I… I don’t know if I can,” he panted, every fiber of his being screaming for the cold, for the solace of the winter woods. But despite his fear, a part of him was terrified to move away from her warmth.

“Please!” [Name] urged, her voice laced with urgency. She could see the fear in his eyes, the realization dawning that he was losing a part of himself. “You need to get to the cold! I’ll help you!”

With her support, he staggered to his feet, and together they hurried toward the border. Each step felt agonizingly slow as the heat continued to spread, pulling him down with an invisible weight. The world around them began to blur, the vibrant colors of autumn fading into a muted haze as he focused on [Name] and the urgency of their situation.

Finally, they reached the border, the cool air of Winter Woods brushing against his skin like a balm, but it was too late. The moment he crossed back into his world, Satoru felt a sharp pain jolt through him—a raw, wrenching sensation that echoed through his body.

He gasped, looking back over his shoulder just in time to see a fragment of one of his wings break off, fluttering down to the ground like a fallen leaf. It shimmered for a brief moment before settling into the snow, a stark reminder of the price he had just paid.

“No… no, no,” he whispered, disbelief and horror flooding his senses. “This can’t be happening.”

From her kneeling position beside him, [Name] felt a deep, crushing weight settle in her chest as she watched the severed piece of Satoru’s wing fall away. The realization hit her like a tidal wave—she had urged him to cross, had pushed him into this dangerous situation, and now he was paying the price. Tears streamed down her cheeks, hot and painful, as guilt gnawed at her heart.

“What have I done?” she thought, the weight of her emotions crashing down around her like a storm. The reality of their actions felt suffocating, a burden she never wanted to bear. How could she have let this happen? He was brave, so brave for stepping across that boundary, but it was her warmth that had drawn him in, that had made him disregard the danger. She had encouraged him, ignited his desire to explore her world, but it felt as if she had set fire to the very wings he had always known.

“[Name]…” Satoru’s voice broke through her thoughts, gentle yet filled with a profound understanding. He turned to her, eyes softening despite the pain etched on his face. “It’s not your fault,” he reassured her, reading the guilt and sorrow that clouded her thoughts as if they were written across her heart. “I wanted to cross. You didn’t force me. I insisted on it.”

But the weight of his words did little to lift the heaviness in her heart. “I should have known better,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “You could have been hurt—”

“And yet here we are,” he interjected softly, his expression unwavering. “I wouldn’t change a thing if it meant being here with you.”

The sincerity in his gaze melted a portion of her guilt, yet the image of his broken wing lingered in her mind, a haunting reminder of the danger they had danced around for so long. “But your wing—what does this mean for you?” she whispered, tears brimming in her eyes as she grasped his hands.

“It’s just a part of who I am,” he replied, a faint smile touching his lips despite the circumstances. “I’m still here. I’m still me.”

The determination in his voice resonated deeply within her, but it was overshadowed by the fear that laced her heart. She couldn’t shake the worry that he would always carry a piece of her decision with him—a reminder of the moment they had crossed a line neither of them could truly understand.

Tears continued to cascade down [Name]'s cheeks, each droplet a testament to the turmoil swirling within her. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Satoru’s broken wing, the sight sending fresh waves of despair crashing over her. This was really bad. The realization hit her with the force of a winter storm: his life would be irrevocably changed. No longer would he soar gracefully through the air, wings outstretched beneath the pale moonlight. The thought of Satoru never flying again felt like a dagger to her heart.

The soft glow of the moon illuminated the delicate edges of his wings, now marred by the injury, and the warmth of the night suddenly felt suffocating. She could sense Satoru’s gaze on her, desperately trying to catch her eye, but she was too afraid to meet his stare. She turned away, her heart heavy with the weight of her emotions. The silence between them stretched, thick with unspoken fears and regrets, as she struggled to process the gravity of their situation.

"Maybe this isn’t a good idea," she finally whispered, her voice quaking with emotion. The words felt foreign, a painful admission that shattered the fragile hope they had built together. "We can’t… we can’t be together like this. Winter fairies and warm fairies should stay apart. It’s too dangerous." She swallowed hard, forcing back the sob that threatened to escape. "Look at what just happened."

Satoru’s heart sank at her words, each syllable striking him like an icy gust of wind. It felt as though the ground beneath him had cracked, opening a chasm that threatened to swallow them both. He wanted to argue, to refute her claims, but the sight of her anguish made his resolve waver. He could see the pain in her eyes, the way she fought to stay strong even as her world felt like it was crumbling around her.

“[Name], please,” he urged, his voice thick with emotion. “We can figure this out. We just need to be careful—”

But she shook her head, her soft hair catching the moonlight as she turned away. "No, Satoru. You don’t understand. This isn’t just about us anymore. This is about your safety, your future.” Her voice cracked, and the sorrow in her tone sent a pang of guilt through him.

In that moment, he felt as if he were losing her all over again. The weight of her words settled heavily in the pit of his stomach, suffocating the flicker of hope he had clung to so fiercely. “But we have something special,” he insisted, the desperation in his voice rising. “I don’t want to give that up.”

“I know,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, but there was a resolute edge to it that made his heart ache. “But look at what just happened to you. Your wings… it’s irreversible. I can’t let you risk any more for me.”

Satoru felt a profound heaviness in his chest, a feeling he had never experienced before. He had always been the brave one, the protector of the Winter Woods, yet here he was, feeling helpless and vulnerable. The urge to argue against her was strong, but he could see how hard she was trying to convince herself of the truth in her own words. He noticed the way she held back, how her body seemed tense, ready to flee from him, from the danger he had so foolishly embraced.

As much as he wanted to fight for them, to push against the boundaries their worlds had set, he couldn’t ignore the pain etched on her face. “If that’s what you truly want,” he murmured, the words slipping from his lips like ash, “then… I’ll agree.”

Her heart raced at his response, a mix of relief and sorrow flooding her senses. She turned back to face him, tears still glistening in her eyes. “You don’t—”

“No,” he interrupted gently, trying to keep his voice steady. “You’re right. I see it now. The danger is real, and I never wanted to put you in harm’s way.” Each word felt like a heavy stone, settling into the depths of his heart, and with each passing moment, it became harder to breathe. “I understand why we shouldn’t cross this line anymore.”

The realization weighed heavily upon them both, a somber agreement that bound their hearts with an unbreakable thread. They were standing on opposite sides of a chasm, and for the first time, the reality of their worlds settled heavily upon their shoulders. He could see it in her eyes—the uncertainty, the longing, and the heartbreak that mirrored his own. Their bond, once so vibrant and full of possibilities, felt like a delicate glass figurine, teetering on the brink of shattering.

But beneath that weight of sorrow, a flicker of understanding emerged. They both cared deeply for each other; they both wanted to protect the other. And in that moment of shared grief, Satoru realized that their connection transcended the borders that divided their worlds. Though they were forced to remain apart, the bond they had forged would forever be a part of them, an unbreakable tie that distance could never sever.

“Maybe one day, when the worlds aren’t so harsh…” [Name] began, her voice trailing off, leaving the sentence hanging between them like a fragile promise.

Satoru nodded, the hope in her voice igniting a spark within him. “Yeah, maybe one day. But until then, we’ll find a way to carry each other in our hearts.”

Slowly, [Name] stepped closer, her heart pounding in her chest, unsure of what she was about to do. She looked deep into Satoru’s eyes, searching for something—an assurance, a promise that they would be okay despite the distance that now lay between them. It was then that she felt the pull of something undeniable, a yearning that had grown stronger with every shared moment they had experienced together.

In that instant, she reached up, her hand trembling slightly as she brushed her fingers against his cheek. Satoru felt his breath hitch, his heart racing in response to her touch. There was an intensity in the air, a moment that felt like a breath held in anticipation. It was both a farewell and an acknowledgment of the bond they had created.

And then, she leaned in, closing the distance between them. Her lips met his softly, a gentle brush that sent a jolt of electricity through both their bodies. It was a kiss filled with the weight of unspoken words, a lingering promise of what could have been. Tears streamed silently down [Name]'s cheeks, mingling with the warmth of their shared breath, the saltiness of her sorrow sweetened by the love they both felt.

Satoru closed his eyes, allowing himself to fully embrace the moment. He leaned into the kiss, his heart swelling with a mix of joy and despair. He let a single tear fall, breaking the fragile equilibrium of their emotions. It rolled down his cheek, a tangible representation of the turmoil in his heart. This kiss felt like an eternity, a perfect snapshot in time where the world around them ceased to exist, and nothing else mattered except for the warmth they shared.

When their lips finally parted, both were breathless, their foreheads resting against one another as they tried to gather themselves. Satoru’s heart ached as he searched [Name]’s eyes, hoping to find solace in the depths of her gaze.

“Be careful on your way back,” she whispered, her voice trembling, a bittersweet smile gracing her lips. Her heart felt heavy with the weight of goodbye, but she knew it was necessary.

He nodded, unable to find the words as he watched her begin to pull away, the distance between them growing once more. The quiet sorrow echoed between them, each moment stretching painfully as they stood on the border of their worlds.

With one last glance, [Name] spread her wings wide, the soft luminescence surrounding her illuminating the darkness. She took off, soaring into the night sky, leaving Satoru standing alone at the border, a figure of winter amidst the vibrant hues of the warm lands.

His heart felt heavy as he watched her fly away, each beat echoing the emptiness left behind. The sight of her gradually fading into the distance made him feel as if a part of him was being torn away. He knew they had to be apart, but the ache in his chest told him otherwise. Satoru stood there, his wings drooping slightly, feeling the chill of the winter woods settle around him, grounding him in the stark reality of their situation.

He took a deep breath, letting the night air fill his lungs, trying to quell the longing that surged within him. Though they had shared a moment that would linger in his heart forever, the sorrow of their parting weighed heavily on him. “Goodbye,” he murmured softly to the empty air, his voice barely audible. He knew that he would carry her with him, always, even if they were worlds apart.

From that day forward, a solemn rule was established, known to every fairy—both winter and warm—that crossing the border was strictly forbidden, ensuring that their worlds would forever remain apart.

[corazondebeskar-reads]

could be

Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader

this ficlet is brought to you by @iamasaddie's writing challenge! my assigned color was "pretty clicker" (which tbh idk if we needed to include the color but I did anyway lol).

genre: pwp (I tried my best) prompt: "whoa, that's a new one."

words: 1.7k

summary: jackson is not your home. joel miller is not your boyfriend. but they could be.

warnings: pwp, oral (m&f receiving), handjob, fingering, joel and reader are astoundingly bad at emotions, a few playful spanks, tommy makes an off-screen cameo, old man joel my beloved, antics, absolutely no proofreading or beta reading whatsoever rip sorry

dividers by @saradika-graphics

“Whoa, that’s a new one,” drawls the man as he steps out of the shadow of the copse. “ If it ain’t the prettiest little clicker I’ve ever seen.” 

You scowl, tugging the hat off, boot scuffing the dirt as you grind the frustration of being caught out into the soil. It gives with some difficulty, the late autumn’s early frost already turning the ground to stone. “Shut up, Joel,” you mutter. 

“That always work for ya? How haven’t you gotten shot yet?” He says, jerking his head down at the ball cap you’ve adorned with the decapitated clicker’s face.

(Or should you say disembodied? Dessicated? Desecrated? Whatever, you cut the fucking mushrooms off a dead fucker and stuck them on a hat. The terms don’t matter.) 

“Yep. Not too many fools out here who will go looking for a clicker when they hear one.”

“It’s a good impression, darlin’, but it’s not quite enough to trick me.” He’s drawn close, maybe too close, and curls two fingers under your chin, drawing your gaze to his grizzled face. 

You roll your eyes. “You a clicker whisperer or something?” 

His lips curl. “Not quite, no.” He lets his hand fall from your chin, and you watch it go. 

When you look back up at his face, you’re caught. Trapped. His grin is solemn, as if he, too, feels the snare.

“You got somewhere to stay tonight?” he says, instead of acknowledging the way you’ve drawn a breadth closer. 

“Sure do,” you drawl. 

He chuckles. “Alright, keep your secrets. But, uh—my back ain’t what it used to be, so the forest floor ain’t gonna work for me today.”

Your lips curl. “Presumptuous, are we?”

“You’re lookin’ at me like a piece of meat, sweetheart.”

“Well, ain’tcha?”

“Guess you must be desperate, then, ‘f’you’re back for an old man like me.”

“Guess so,” you hum and give in. “How d’you always find me?”

“Hmm, don’t you worry ‘bout that, alright? All you gotta know is that I do always find you, and I’ve got some of Tommy’s peanut butter cookies in my bag for ya.”

“My hero,” you press one hand over your heart while the other makes the universal ‘gimmie’ gesture at his backpack. 

“Could be, y’know,” he mumbles. 

You both ignore the slip. He rifles around in the bag and pulls out a tin. You try to snatch it from him, but he pulls away with a wagging finger. 

“Nope, not yet,” he says with a teasing lilt, his drawl drawing out. He hands you one precious sweet and tucks the rest back into his bag. “If I give it to you now, you’ll just run off, and then what’ll I have?”

“A sense of satisfaction from being kind?”

You share a laugh at your joke as he leads you not to the safe “house” but up to the old, creepy lodge you avoid like the plague. Or. Well. Like the Infected. 

“Calm down, I already cleared it,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “It’s got a real bed, though, sweetheart, so I can take my time with ya.”

“You mean so you don’t break a knee fuckin’ me over a log?”

“It didn’t break. Jesus. How old do you take me for?”

“Old as shit,” you mutter. 

He just grins. 

“What?” 

“Nothin’. You just get brattier the longer you’re away. Ain’t got any good cock back home?”

“Shut up,” you grumble, but it’s close to the truth. There’s cock back home, sure, but then you’d have to fuck one of those losers, and you just know Joel’s ruined you. 

Ruined you with intent and precision, and now he’s taking you by the hand and leading you up into the lodge’s dusty halls and into what must have once been a nice guest room. 

You whistle. “Did you clean this just for me?” You ask, batting your lashes. 

“If I say yes, you gonna be sweet for me?”

“You wouldn’t know what to do with me if I was.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says, lying down on the bed with his hands behind his head. “So get your ass up here.”

You quickly shimmy out of your sweats and climb up to straddle him, but his grin splits wider in a lecherous stretch. 

“You think I brought you here for you to ride me? Y’can do that shit in the woods. Get up here.”

You hesitate. “I live in a fucking camp, Joel.” The “without running water” bit is obvious but unspoken.

“I do not give a shit,” he says bluntly. “Get up here.”

“Your funeral,” you say with a shrug, and let him help you settle over his face. You’re barely steady when he grabs your hips and pulls, bringing you to meet him. 

It’s been… longer than you can even remember, and oh shit. Either your memory hasn’t done this justice, or the last man to eat you out was fuckin’ terrible because this is nothing like you’ve ever known. 

But he doesn’t dive in and rush it. He doesn’t go straight to sucking on your clit; he doesn’t push three fingers into your cunt to work you open for his cock. 

Oh, no. You’ve been had, you think. This setup was an elaborate trap to wipe your mind clean and replace everything with thoughts of him. He’s brought you here to the second closest place of safety he knows so he can take his fuckin’ time with you. 

His hands are gentle on you, and he nuzzles into your mound to part your folds, his wide nose pushing between to seek out his prize. The tip of his tongue pushes out to help, tracing the tiny slit of your cunt. At the first taste of you, he groans, drawn out and filthy. 

“Shit,” he pants, hot breath scattering across the soft peaks and valleys. “It’s been too goddamn long.”  He seems to be talking to himself, which is good because you can’t wrangle more than a tangled gasping whimper in response. 

He brings his hands up underneath you to grip your inner thighs, pulling to spread you more so he can watch you start to glisten. “Atta girl,” he murmurs, nuzzling back in to lap it up. “Mmm, baby, is all this for me?”

“Shoulda known you wouldn’t shut up,” you mutter, even though you’re addicted to his filthy mouth most of the time.

“Shut me up then,” he says in a way you simply cannot refuse. 

You grind down on his face, expecting protest, but he moans in a way you can only classify as slutty. He buries his face between your thighs with a growl and gets to work. 

You can barely hold yourself up after the first orgasm he coaxes from you, all powerful tongue and gentle lips. 

“Y’ain’t quittin’ on me, are ya?” He taunts. 

“I thought you were gonna shut up.” 

He smacks your ass. “Turn around.”

When you do, he pushes you down to lay on him. “Get nice and cozy with my cock, sweetheart, ‘cause I ain’t done with you yet.”

You take the invitation but before you can pull him free from his jeans, he’s diving back into his personal all you can eat buffet and showing no sign of slowing. 

Eventually, you manage to pry his ridiculous monster cock from its denim confines and try, really try, to focus on it, but it’s so hard (you giggle as you tell him) when he keeps doing that thing with his teeth and your clit. After the third time, you find yourself just moaning and drooling around it; you give up and rest your head on his thigh, content to hold it in your hand and lick. 

He spanks you again. “Don’t be a tease.”

You try to protest, but he bests you by attempting to suck your soul out of your clit while hammering two thick fingers against your g-spot, and it’s all over for your brain. Poor thing never stood a chance against Joel anyway. 

You squirm away from the menace when he attempts to keep going and smack him in the face with a pillow when he whines. He wipes his beard on it and throws it back at you. 

You can’t hold back your questions now that you’re back up and running. “How d’you have the time for this?” 

“Hmm?” Joel grunts, a hand tugging lazily at his dick while he surreptitiously slides his hand down the length of your thigh and back up. 

You turn on your back, swatting his hand away. “You’re usually in a rush.”

He turns a little pink. “Don’t matter.”

“Uh, it clearly does. I’m asking.”

“Well, it’s nunya.”

You groan. “Think I liked it better when you were too busy eating me out to talk.”

“Now you know how I feel.”

You throw the cum-stained pillow back at him but miss by an embarrassing overshot. It arcs over him and into the floor between his side of the bed and the wall. 

You shrug. “Gone forever,” you say and throw an arm over your eyes dramatically. 

It’s a good thing, too, since the pillow hits you in the face. 

“I’m on watch here,” he says once you stop screeching indignantly. 

“Well, you’re not doing a very good job of it,” you let him know solemnly. 

“Ain’t alone. M’brother—Tommy,” he clarifies unnecessarily, “S’here too. He’s got it handled.”

“Oh my god, did you ask your brother to cover for you so you could get laid?”

He shrugs. “Why not?”

“Aw, Miller. You really know how to make a girl feel special,” you drawl. 

He plays it off with another eye roll and scoffs, but the thing is—you know. He stopped asking you to think about moving to Jackson a long time ago. But slowly, he’s been taking you closer and closer to town when you meet up. 

And you’re pretty sure he’s using Tommy’s cookies as a reward. Each time he lures you closer, he brings more treats the next time. You’d be mad at the absolute gall, but… it’s not not working, so you only have yourself to blame.

When you catch his eye again, he makes a point to hold your gaze and draw it down to his leaking cock, and you know he knows. You won’t go with him, so he’ll have you here. Jackson is not your home. But that quiet drawl in your head that sounds unnervingly similar to the man sprawled before you whispers, it could be.

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 5

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon What Canon

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Not proofread!! Holy moly. Here it is, folks. The scene that inspired this whole fic. I had fun writing this so I really hope you enjoy it. Once again, I appreciate everyone who likes, comments, and/or leaves kudos so much. I really started this fic for myself but good golly, that dopamine rush whenever I get a notif might be more addicting than spice. I'm glad to be part of the bald man brigade.

Also, I can't believe I'm only now questioning why I decided to write this in the second person? I guess maybe I thought this fic would be a lot shorter and not that deep, lol. At this point 'y/n' probably has enough personality to just be a straight-up OC. It's funnier because I don't even find second-person or y/n fics any more engaging either. I always detach myself by giving 'y/n' her own name and only seeing her as a character in the fic.

ANYWAY, sorry to ramble. Stay safe and have a good one, ya weirdos.

You step out into the dark cul-de-sac of the guest hall, illuminated only by the large suspensor lamp in the middle. Feyd-Rautha looks you up and down, seemingly entranced by how the dim light casts his shadow on your modest dress. Atreides green, he recognized.

"Trying to sneak into my rooms again?" you say arms crossed, leaning on your door. "I didn't appreciate the last time, by the way."

"It's my house," he says cooly, "and I did knock this time."

You stare at him indifferently.

"Quite the display from you yesterday morning, using The Voice on me." His voice low and raspy, "I should have you drawn and quartered."

You scoff in his face. "You almost choked me to death. Are you trying to start a war?"

He takes a step closer and his face is inches from yours, you can feel his breath on your cheek, "I didn't think I'd like you this much, little hawk."

"What do you want, Feyd-Rautha?" you had no patience for him right now.

"Ah," he steps back, a dark smile on his face, "I've been waiting to hear my name from your tongue." His hand reaches for your lips. "I've grown quite tired of 'na-Baron'."

You grab his wrist before he can touch you. "If you're only here to toy with me, I would rather be left alone to prepare for bed." You release his hand and turn to open your door.

Feyd-Rautha props an arm against the doorway to block you. "We're to be married in three days," he says, "and I just can't seem to bring myself to let go of my 'harpies', as you called them." He meets your gaze. "You said you'd kill them. Did you mean that?"

You look up at him with steely eyes. He towered over you but your heart felt no fear, "Yes."

His coy smile returns. "Good. Come to my training hall tomorrow," he says, walking away.

"What?" you call after him.

"Dress to fight," he says over his shoulder. "I want to see what you can do, Atreides."

You needed no help from Zora in putting on a loose shirt and long pants. The plain beige outfit certainly wasn't as elegant as the dresses you had been wearing so far. But it was comfortable and you could fight in it, which was all that mattered. Still, you look yourself in the mirror. The soft, airy fabrics draped over your figure well but perhaps you were not in the best shape as you once were. Your muscle mass is much less than your brother's and he wasn't particularly built himself. You admit you did wane off your training sessions with Gurney and Paul leading up to your departure from Caladan. Nevertheless, you were still a skilled warrior. Another secret you've been keeping from the Harkonnens.

You were 14 when you started learning the blade. Watching Paul, 2 years your senior, practice with the Atreides Warmaster lit a fire in you. You didn't hesitate to pester your father to let you train with them and of course, there was nothing he could deny his darling daughter. You were a fierce and determined student. Gurney Halleck was a man you genuinely believed to be one of the best fighters in the Imperium, along with Duncan Idaho. Gurney would train you and Paul on even days. On odd days, your mother would teach you the Weirding Way. These lessons, much like the rest of your mother's teachings, your father wanted to know nothing about. After becoming decently adept at Prana-Bindu and gaining almost complete physical control of your body, Lady Jessica insisted that you also be skilled in the Bene Gesserit style of combat.

You were far from mastery in either but the combination of both trainings made you a formidable fighter. Despite this, you could never seem to beat your brother in a sparring match. A fact that frustrated you to no end, though you appreciated that Paul never went easy on you. You'd always blame it on him having trained for longer than you have. But in truth, you knew there had just always been something special about him.

"Are you ready, my lady?" Zora's soft voice wakes you from your thoughts.

"Hm? Right. Yes, let's go." You quickly tie your hair out of the way and grab your father's dagger from atop your dresser.

There was no fanfare when you entered the hall. On one end, the na-Baron's concubines sat chained on the steps of the shallow recessed pit in their leathers, their glares piercing through you. Your eyes linger on them as Feyd-Rautha and his Warmaster greet you.

"I was starting to think my lady bride was bluffing," Feyd-Rautha says as you approach him. The older man beside him offers you a polite bow.

"Perhaps she wasn't so keen on your brutish games," you bite back. "Your lord uncle won't be joining us?"

"No," Feyd-Rautha crosses his arms, "but he'll be hearing about your victory. Or your demise."

"Right. Well, I assume you'll be releasing them from those chains," you nod towards his pets "Not sure why they're necessary."

"Oh, trust me, little hawk. They're necessary." Feyd-Rautha motions to a servant.

"Your blade and shield, my lady," they bow, presenting you with a knife and a small device you recognize as a Holtzman shield.

"I've brought my own," you unsheath your father's dagger. You contemplate taking the shield but remembering that the na-Baron forwent it during his gladiator fight, you decide to do so as well. "They've no weapons anyway, the shield seems pointless."

Feyd-Rautha shrugs, "If you insist."

You take a deep breath, "Let's get this over with."

You lightly stretch as you walk down the steps of the shallow pit to stand opposite the na-Baron's concubines. You had come into this on the pretense of righteousness. For Iassa, you told yourself. But you've known her a mere two days. A part of you wanted to show off. You were good and you knew it. You could probably kill anyone in this room, even Feyd-Rautha. You craved the respect of the people here: the Harkonnens, the people of Geidi Prime. You figured this was one way to get it.

Feyd-Rautha walks around the pit to one of his concubines and kneels to whisper something in her ear. You assume a fighting stance when he moves to release her from the chains. When you meet her eyes, they are filled with feral bloodlust.

Suddenly, you weren't so bold. The veil of courage you have maintained since you arrived, even when Feyd-Rautha had your neck in his grip, is torn apart when you face this woman. You could tell no part of her would hesitate to rip your throat out with her bare teeth. You were almost relieved they were unarmed, but you weren't sure if that would make them any less lethal.

Fear grew in your chest and you had less than a moment to recite the Litany in your head before the concubine lunged at you.

You crouch down in time and slash at her abdomen as she approaches you. You turn to face her on the other side of the pit and she wastes no time in attacking you again. She attempts to grab your armed hand but you take hold of her wrist first and move to pin it behind her back. Quickly, your blade drags across her throat and she falls to your feet.

The kill has not yet registered in your mind but your heart is racing. You can almost hear your blood coursing through your veins. You held your arms outstretched, your eyes focused ahead, ready for the next one.

Across the pit, Feyd-Rautha licks his lips, smiling as he releases his second concubine. This time, you walk toward her while she moves to attack you. You clock her head with the pommel of your dagger and knock her a few steps back. She reaches a hand to wipe the blood beginning to drip out of her nose. After examining it, she snarls and bares her sharp teeth at you. Your mind is blank now. She dodges your first slash then manages to land a blow to your jaw. You seethe from the pain. You spit out the mixture of blood and saliva filling your mouth. The anger at the hit drives you to rush at her. Seeing an opening, you duck down to her waist and stab her twice. As she falls to her knees, the look of determination doesn't leave her eyes until the very last moment.

When you turn around, Feyd-Rautha has already released the last concubine. The ruthless scream she lets out disorients you. She pounces and knocks you over. She straddles you and pins your arms to the ground, your blade sliding inches away. She screams again in your face at the death of her sisters. You wedge your right knee between you and her abdomen, the only thing keeping her teeth from reaching your throat. You grunt as you struggle to free your hands. In your periphery, you see Feyd-Rautha, wielding his own blade, take a step into the pit.

"GET BACK," you roar, and he is powerless to refuse.

You turn back to your opponent still on top of you and you butt her head with your own. She loosens her grip and you kick her off to hastily crawl to your weapon. When she reorients herself and attempts to grab you again, you hook a knee under her arm and flip the both of you over. With your weight on her chest and both your knees pinning her arms down, she thrashes underneath you, claws digging into your right ankle. You take your blade in both hands and her screaming is silenced when you sink your knife deep into her heart.

When you rise, the room is quiet. Your chest heaves. The stark white ceiling lights don't help the lightheadedness that begins to wash over you in the post-adrenaline rush. Feyd-Rautha says something from behind you but his speech is garbled as you reel from the thrill of what just transpired. You were electrified. You almost... wanted more.

Then, the realization of the revolting scene you are in settles upon you and you are knocked off your high. You look at the leather-clad bodies scattered around you, the grotesque way they lay on the floor, the red blood pooling around them made brighter by the sterile grayness of the room. You did this.

A hand on your shoulder snaps you out of it. In reflex, you turn and raise your blade at the offender.

Feyd-Rautha holds his hands up, "Whoa, easy, Atreides. Trying to kill me? Don't want to start a war, do you?"

You yield your weapon. Your eyes dodge his as you look to your feet and try to steady your breathing.

"Enjoy your first taste of blood?" Feyd-Rautha says, the look in his eyes indecipherable to you. He raises a hand and swipes his thumb on your cheek. It comes away covered in crimson.

You gasp and reach for your face with your own hand. You don't even know if it's your blood or theirs, or when it got on you. Your heart pounded, unable to decide whether you were repulsed or proud.

"Look at you," he says licking the red off his finger. You could not help but stare at him through the strands of your hair that had come undone in the fighting. "You're beautiful like this," his hand reaches for your face again.

"No," you say low and quiet when you swat his hand away, "you're sick." You didn't know if you meant him or yourself. You calmly turn to leave. No one stops you when you make your way up the shallow steps of the pit. As you pass Iassa—no, Zora—by the doorway, you tell her flatly, "Prepare a bath."

You had never taken a life before. Today, you took three. You were glad you didn't know their names. You decided you'd never find out.

After Zora pours a final pitcher of hot water into the bath, you tell her, "You may go. I'll dress myself later, thank you."

She bows and makes her way out of your rooms.

In your solitude, you bring your knees to your chest. You had been quick to wipe the blood off your cheek before you even reached your quarters. Now, you cup the water into your hands and rub it into your face, the slight sting of the heat comforting you.

He was a cruel man, your betrothed. This is what you've decided. Having you kill the concubines he claimed to want to keep so much. But wasn't it you who threatened to kill them? He started it, you argue with yourself, when he had Iassa killed. You felt like a child.

When you used to hear of Feyd-Rautha's exploits, you had to mask your disgust. And yet now, you had killed so easily in that pit as he had in the arena. What was this place doing to you?

When you left Caladan, Paul had never killed anyone either. You wonder if he ever does, would he feel the same exhilaration you did when you slit that first concubine's throat. No. Your brother was fierce but, like your father, he had a good heart. You beat him by three. You hoped it would stay that way.

You think about your future here, marrying Feyd-Rautha. Producing heir after heir under the Baron's watchful eye. You were a broodmare. Despite all your fancy training and education. Despite your little demonstration earlier. It was the bitter truth.

You missed home. You missed walking along the beach at night with your father. You missed your mother's gentle hands brushing your hair. You missed the banter and teasing with your brother. You missed Gurney, and Duncan, and the cold breeze on your balcony, and getting to roam free and going anywhere you pleased. When the tears come, you sink deep into the bath so they might fade away in the water.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

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