#its roses in different shades

[lokisgoodgirl]

Believe Me [Loki x Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Home from a mission in the dead of night, Loki requires absolution (w/c 1.4k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smutty. Avenger!Loki. Established relationship. Mild sub!loki, non-toxic jealously, 'authorised' mild infidelity (missions, innit).

You had dozed, slipping between the fleeting embrace of slumber. Snatches came and went, the cool of your pillow turning hot before you turned it again.

Fat feathers crisped as you lowered your head. The finest Asgardian goose. Loki insisted. With each wave of consciousness, you tried not to think of your lover destructively flirting his way through a honeytrap mission tonight. The poor mark didn’t stand a chance. You checked the clock. 03.23.

But something feels different.

Sitting up, you squinted beyond the darkness.

On the far side of the room, a wing-back chair rose in the gloom. The draped silk of your discarded robe still hung over the armrest, but it shimmered. It was moving. Black became grey as your eyes adjusted, seeing pale fingers weaving silk between them.

You saw him now.

Legs crossed, back straight and chin dipped as he watched you sleep while he bathed in shadow. Curls sat effortlessly back from his face, slices of cheekbone protruding from blackest night.

The shade of his suit was at one with the leather behind, but Loki’s bright eyes smouldered; embers of starlight and dying galaxies deep in the darkness. “I didn’t wish to wake you, love” he murmured, pulling the silk hem through his fingers a final time before letting it fall.

One long leg unfurled over the other, the click of his heel meeting the floor making you clench beneath the bed-covers. You were wet already. So wet. Like your body could sense his presence, if not yet your mind. She always could.

Like a dream, you cast the duvet back and rose; bare feet padding across the boards towards him. Cool air sent gooseflesh rippling up your thighs, your arms; the curves of your body protected only by a flimsy camisole. Only a few more steps. The leather of the chair squeaked as his thighs spread against the sides. “Loki,” you breathed, cupping his face.

No sooner had the name left your lips than a row of candles flickered to life, illuminating him from behind. They floated in the air, rivulets of wax already spilling soft rolls down the sides. “Hel-lo,” he purred teasingly. One eyebrow cocked. And the threat of a smirk pressing against his cheeks.

For the first time, you noticed his unusual attire. A three piece suit, with its crowning glory the drip of starched ruffles cascading down his chest to the high waist of his trousers. He shifted in the chair, the pad of a fingertip brushing a close-lipped smile.

“Steve really went Ken-doll on you tonight, huh?” you teased, mirth ebbing to renewed desire as he drew the fingers to the bow-tie fastened at his neck.

He shrugged, tugging it slowly, letting the silk unfurl. It hung perfectly around his collar. You wondered if he would tie you up with it. You hoped he would.

In a flash, two large hands cupped your ass, pulling you down to his lap. With a gasp you managed to straddle him, slotting your knees on either side of his thick trunk. You kissed him deeply, savouring the softness of his tongue as it welled and licked and loved you. The ceremony was about to begin. His fingers spread against your cheeks, pulling and massaging as he groaned into your throat.

He tasted like jealousy. Traces of expensive perfume lingering on his skin and the faint hang of some rich whisky doing its best to conceal it. A thrill flooded through you, imagining the mark's desire roaring through her blood as she felt his muscle ripple beneath her touch. But Loki would never betray you, not beyond the emotionless tactics his position required.

Your thumb skated up his cheek, catching a patch of forgotten lipstick near his ear. Forgotten? No. You knew better than that. Whenever Loki came home from ensnaring a target with his wiles, he never missed the chance to make sure you knew who he belonged to. It was a mission. It was nothing. But ceremony must be upheld. His lips waxed and waned deeper, firing passion setting you alight. Every swallow was harsher and deeper than the last. Like he might lose you in the darkness. Loki grunted wetly as you scooted closer on his lap, chest flush to your colossus of a lover while his fingers wound in your hair. Your digits slid down his chest, feeling the ropes of muscle bound beneath starched folds. You broke apart just long enough to whisper the question he was waiting for. "You had to kiss this one?" You let the playful mist of a snarl hang on the air. Loki growled in response while you began working down his chin, along the long blade of his jawline. Letting the tip of your tongue run over the angle of his bone structure.

“Yes,” he rasped while you dropped lower, fastening to the slender muscle of his neck. You took a moment to appreciate his Adam’s apple work as he swallowed hard, ragged breaths ripping the air. His head fell back. “Only for a minute,” he panted to the ceiling. “It was perfunctory.”

Honestly from the god of lies, you’d found, was the greatest aphrodisiac of all.

“Where?” you asked, closing your eyes against his skin. “Against the wall,” he choked. His breaths were short. Loki’s fingernails grazed down the exposed skin between your shoulder-blades while you began to gently gyrate in circles. The god’s thick cock snaked down his thigh, ferociously hard against the tight fabric. At the mercy of your movements.

His brow creased as you slid back and forth, wetted lips parting with a needy gasp. “Did she want you?” you goaded, sliding the heel of your palm over one of his cheekbones. It raked through his hair. "Of course," he strummed, thighs beginning to tremble beneath your hips. Loki's hands ran in worship up the curve of your waist. "And did you want her?" you asked coyly. Loki pouted before a gentle tug of the camisole made your breasts spilled into his waiting hands. “Never,” he breathed; eyes flashing dangerously as he lifted them to meet yours. “Never.” You slid a hand down his torso, through the mass of white foliage ruffles which lapped against your palm in flickering candlelight. They were hard, and yet soft. Just like him. And stiff. That too, was a common attribute.

Slowly, you reached the button of his trousers. Loki thrust into the touch, biting his lip with a flinch. His brows knitted together.

One button popped beneath your fingers. Then two.

He leant forward, pushing your cleavage together and burying his face deep. The god’s nose slotted perfectly between the mounds of flesh he sought, drowning himself in the scent of you. The feel of you. His muffled moans of anticipation made you squirm on his lap, rubbing your bare pussy against his sprung manhood.

Pants and wet grunts of desire filled the air before Loki surfaced, kissing manically up the path to your lips. He consumed you again, his palm skating up the nape of your neck in a violent embrace. Waves of stiff ruffles grazed your nipples, sending electric shocks of pleasure to your dripping core. Had you ever needed him more than this? You were certain you had. But you couldn’t remember when.

Loki’s hands massaged your ass, pulling you deeper against his face. His shirt ruffles scratched your inner thighs, the tender caress making you mewl his name to the ceiling.

“Say you believe me,” he gasped in desperation.

It was a dark prayer. And a desperate one, at that. A ring of saliva was smeared across his lower face. The words chanted on repeat as your searching fingers lined him up between your slick thighs.

“Say you believe me,” he pleaded, slurring. His throat clung to the final syllable, rasping it through a torturous exhale.

The tip of his cock jarred against your slit, a sticky mess of pre-cum and arousal webbing with each slow buck. He was trembling with the effort of resistance.

He would not. Not until the ceremony of his forgiveness was complete.

You looked down at him, head resting against the back of the chair. Carefully coiffured hair now hung around his cheekbones, jutting at mussed angles. Half-lidded eyes observed you with reverence, submission. A pilgrim awaiting absolution. You smiled. Leaning in, you traced the taut vein popping in his neck. Felt every bob and tighten as he swallowed on your ascent. The little mewls from his pretty lips. And all the while, his hips rocked; cock licking and caressing your glistening sex.

The swirl of your tongue tasted bitter. Remnants of perfume from her wrists as she wound her arms around his neck, perhaps. But it would be gone soon. It always was. They always were. And you? You remained. You always did.

You reached the soft skin beneath his ear, humming a little before sucking his delicate lobe between your lips. “I believe you, baby” you whispered.

It was no more than a breath. The truth needs no more than a breath, you’d found. And with a broken sob of gratitude, Loki felt you sink deep onto his leaking cock.

Tags

@lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @liminalpebble @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @mrs-illyrian-baby @icytrickster17 @multifandom-worlds @buttercupcookies-blog @goddessofwonderland

#loki x reader #loki smut #loki x reader smut #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki odinson #loki laufeyson smut #loki odinson smut #loki imagine #loki mcu #loki x yn #loki x yn smut #loki x female reader #loki x female reader smut #lokismut #loki oneshot #avenger loki

[lilac-5ky]

Sex with a Ghost (TojixFem!Reader)

Chapter 1: Date with a ghost

Chapter 2 | Story Masterlist | Masterlist | Requests | AO3

Summary: Being at the bottom of the ladder in your class with a non-combat oriented technique, you are prompted by Gojo to summon a dead sorcerer as a learning experience. However, when none other than Fushiguro Toji appears in your room, you find yourself practicing more than just your cursed technique.

Tags: Student!reader, Ghost!Toji, Age Gap(reader 18, Toji early 30s), Oral Sex (both f. and m. receiving), Manipulation, Corruption Kink, Praise, Degradation, Pet Names (princess, baby, etc), Cowgirl, Toji being a horny asshole that gets redeemed at the end? Sort of.

Word Count: less than 6k.

“But, sensei, is this really necessary?”

You tilted the sphere between your fingers, sizing it up. It weighed no more than a baseball ball did, yet its price must be comparable to that of an entire stadium. A cursed item among cursed items given to a mere grade 3 sorcerer who barely stood out amidst the renowned prodigies of Tokyo Jujutsu High. This was a waste of both time and effort and yet the white-haired man before you begged to differ, eyes glinting a vibrant sky-blue hue from underneath his dark shades.

“Doubting your favorite teacher, Y/N?” he chuckled only to sulk a second later when you asked him what deluded him into thinking he was your favorite.

Undeterred, he continued “I feel like a broken record here, but do yourself a favor and have a bit more confidence. Graduation is two months away, don’t you wanna prove your worth till then? It’s not too late to climb a couple of steps up the ladder. You could easily shoot up to Grade 2. Look at the rest of your class—”

A firm albeit reassuring grip latched itself onto your shoulder, gently twisting you in the direction of your classmates.

The heatwave must have gotten to them for good, blood boiling under the vicious sun rays. Their sleeves and pants were rolled high above their elbows and knees respectively, foreheads glimmering with a thin sheen of sweat that dribbled down their necks.

Just looking at them made your skin crawl with uneasiness.

You didn’t understand why anyone in their right mind would willingly trade the shade of these blessed pine trees for the scorching furnace that the schoolyard was, but when you stopped paying attention to their clothes and took in their blissful expression, you felt a lump swell in your throat.

The two of them were practically beaming, giggling, and prancing around the water fountains without a care in the world— and why should they have anything to worry about when they were Grade 1 at seventeen? A Kamo and a distant cousin to the Zen’ins, both guaranteed to walk a path strewn with rose petals since birth. No trial or tribulation whatsoever.

Your teacher’s voice was muffled into white noise while you were busy shooting daggers at the duo, part of you wishing to join them in their harmless idiocy, and another silently praying that in your next life, you’d be lucky enough to be born into one of their clans. No one questioned the value of a Kamo. No one went against a Zen’in with an inherited technique.

“So, we good? Tell me I didn’t waste 15 minutes of my precious time for nothing.” His fingers squeezed at your shoulder, causing your attention to shift.

You had no idea what he’d been saying, though you’d sat through plenty of pep talks already to guess the gist of it. “You have potential, Y/N. Don’t bring yourself down like this. You can do it!” All empty words without real meaning. Worthless. Not everyone had what it takes to become the next Gojo Satoru. Some people were born to be stepping stones for others, and you were perfectly fine with it. No half-assed aspiration would spur you on.

“If I do this… will you leave me alone?”

A Cheshire cat grin spanned from one corner of his mouth to the other. If one didn’t know any better, they’d mistake Gojo for an overzealous teacher whose earnest goal was to see his students succeed. Not you. You’d spent enough time in his presence to know that his whole “Teacher of the Year” shtick hid an agenda of its own. It was a matter of time to find out what his true motive was.

“What’s the plan?”

“Now we are talking,” he sang in glee. “Very simple, really. You just hold this between your palms and channel as much cursed energy as possible to its center. The ball will absorb it like a magnet and continue drawing from you until you have a clear picture of your target. Then, assuming all goes well and you don’t pass out,” a quiet “What?!” was overwritten by his voice, “you’ll get your very own date with a spirit. Isn’t that exciting?”

Nothing about your expression screamed excitement, eyes squinting in slits and bottom lip quivering into a frown. “And who’s my target, exactly?”

“A Zen’in sorcerer,” he said.

“A Zen’in sorcerer you say,” your eyes wandered again to that soaked blockhead in the distance, the black mop he had for hair flapping left and right. “Ain’t the one over there good enough?”

Shaping a cone around his mouth, Gojo yelled at the top of his lungs for the kids to wait up so they could play together. The duo cheered excitedly, shouting some sort of inside joke you knew nothing about right back at him. Wasn’t the first time you were excluded, and it certainly wasn’t the first time you questioned how this man came to be the world’s most talented sorcerer, either.

“If he was, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” his smile softened as he lowered his voice. “The Zen’in I’m talking about has been dead for a little more than a hundred years now. Unfortunately, his name is erased from our logs,” of course it is “but that shouldn’t hinder you too much. He was an immensely powerful sorcerer with a great amount of cursed energy to back his technique up. An anomaly, if you like.”

“What kind of technique?” “The ten shadows technique,” he answered. “Out of all the Shikigami users, he is perhaps the strongest there’s ever been.”

“Stronger than you, sensei?”

The way his nose scrunched made you regret asking, knowing that a haughty declaration was dangling from the tip of his tongue, begging to be unleashed in a never-ending spiel of self-praise.

“And why should I invoke him in particular?” you quickly changed the subject. “I thought our goal was to hone my spirit-channeling technique and increase my cursed energy flow while we’re at it.”

“That we are doin’, but why not kill two birds with one stone? A new ten-shadow user has risen. I’m sure whatever trick that old dog has up his sleeve will be useful to our little Meg—” He feigned a smile of innocence at his slip. “All you gotta do is chit-chat him into giving you some info. Toss in a few compliments, butter him up. Shouldn’t take more than a few words to convince him, spirits are dying to be summoned— Oh well, unfortunate choice of words. What do you say? You’re in?”

Your groan was all the answer he required to beeline straight to the water fountains, his chirpy laugh echoing from afar. This guy, you huffed, examining the crystal ball anew. There was no way out of this. Either you did his bidding or you’d be forced to endure the obnoxious sound of his voice all summer long.

“Couldn’t you have chosen anything more cliche than a crystal ball?” you snarled, convinced he hadn’t heard you.

“Ouija board was already taken,” he warbled unexpectedly, voice meshing with that of your peers as they ran around in circles, dark-colored uniforms turning darker with every splash of water. “Besides, this has a bit of pink in it,” he referred to the rosy shaded base. “Much cuter than a bunch of rusty letters, right?”

You groaned as you shoved the item into your tote bag, making no mistake to talk out loud again as you turned on your heel. A pinch of jealousy punctured your chest, relieved by every step you took away from the scene and away from the fun the three of them were having.

“Looks like we’re having a date with a ghost tonight.”

It was a quarter past twelve when you decided to put that little experiment to work, the coast clear of overbearing parents and annoying little brothers who wanted nothing more than to disrupt your so-called “studying session”. As far as your family was concerned, Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College (Tokyo Jujutsu High for short) was your average educational institution that had somehow recognized the value of your mediocre grades and scouted you when you were still in middle school— no questions asked from either side.

You wouldn’t go as far as to call your own family a bunch of dimwits, but the signs were all there. A teacher merely four years older than you were, his odd sartorial decisions only second to his eccentric personality. A class made up of four students dramatically and suddenly decreasing to a party of three. An unknown man in a suit and tie driving you back and forth between “emergency study dates” in the dead of night. The lack of studying material in your backpack as opposed to the exams you constantly stressed over. Your unreasonable reaction when your mother stored a cursed tool in with the silver cutlery.

Even if you straight up walked to them with a banner that read “I exorcise curses”, you doubted they’d have anything more to say than a plain “Good for you”, not because they were stupid, but because they simply didn’t care at all.

They didn’t care enough to bat an eye when seven-year-old you tugged at daddy’s trousers, whimpering about a squid-like creature sneaking in your closet, and didn’t care enough to try and justify the stream of water flooding down the corridor. They didn’t care that your imaginary friends were more akin to monsters, and they didn’t care about you being away from home 350 days a year. It was convenient not to. That’s how they were able to drink their woes away at the local bar on a Thursday night with a clear conscience, having offloaded that pest of a brother at your grandparents’ for the fifth consecutive night.

Poor kid. If he wasn’t so despicable, your big sister instincts might have kicked in and raised an objection, though as things currently were suited you best. Rituals required focus, and you needed to make sure no one would bust through the door and interrupt your conversation with Mister Whatever-his-name-was.

You’d taken care of all your basic needs —eating a reheated portion of lasagna, cleansing your body of the worldly filth that stained it, catching a rerun of your favorite show’s latest episode, and cursing Gojo for making you miss it in the first place— and were now seated on your room’s floor with the crystal ball nesting between your bare thighs, the cold sensation much welcome on this excruciatingly warm evening where sitting on the fuzzy carpet seemed like the greatest torture imaginable.

It was only March and you were already in your skimpiest outfit of all; a frilly pair of dusty-pink shorts and a matching low-cut tank top dressing your sweat-beaded body. Dark spots saturated the fabric, demanding your fingers fanned it every two seconds. The worst had yet to come. By the time summer arrived, the final thing for you to crawl out of would be your own skin.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you returned to the item at hand. It’d been fairly long since you’d last performed a seance. Your role in the recent assignments was to support your classmates from the sidelines, exorcising whatever lower-grade curse got in their way with the aid of various cursed tools.

The white-haired nuisance could claim your technique was useful all he wanted, but at the end of the day, yours were simply not meant for combat. Best case scenario, after graduation, the higher-ups would put you on a 9 to 5 job, where you could dig whatever intel they wanted from the comfort of your cramped-up desk; away from your haughty classmates, and away from Gojo Satoru.

You rolled your fingers around the globe’s surface, pads tingling with waves of cursed energy as they seeped into the crystal. Slowly, a dark purple aura came to distort its translucence with colors and shapes of various magnitudes. Shadow-like forms gathered at the seams, remnants of pent-up energy colliding and converging with one another at one focal point. All ready to go!

You began mentally chanting the surname of your target, over and over again until the slideshow of foggy faces diminished to that of a select few candidates from the same bloodline. Some, you would imagine had died when they were still in their prime, measly fledglings of sorcerers with eyes retaining that youthful glossiness, while others seemed to have lived enough to see themselves turn into dehydrated raisins with next to zero cursed energy left.

Once you’d gone through your classmate’s entire family tree at least three times, you caught yourself admitting that despite their faults and innate air of pretension, the Zen’ins weren’t particularly hard on the eyes. Especially that one guy whose mug kept reappearing at random intervals, the slanted scar of his lips lingering in your mind well after the next contender’s appearance. There was something about him, be it the lack of aura he emitted or the viridescent hue of his eyes that had you replaying the frame at the expense of your own energy.

You were drawn to him in an inexplicable way that, at the time, you attributed to fate. It had to be him, right? That must have been why the dope you had for a mentor insisted on calling this a date. Even if he didn’t know the sorcerer’s name, he must have known how insanely attractive the guy was, right?

And suddenly, you felt a sliver of gratitude overcome you, eyelids snapping shut with the Zen’in sorcerer’s face as clear as day behind them, while you chanted the incantation Gojo himself had taught you.

“From the murky shroud of oblivion, I invoke thou out the shadows and blight to bask in heavenly light. Through me gain life, and through life gain thine blessed power.”

No more than a few seconds had passed when you heard a thud, your gaze meeting with that of the very man you’d summoned.

The orb barely did him any justice. Not as if crystal balls were ideal measuring instruments, but you’d need about ten more of those to depict his height as he towered over you, the bulky frame of his shoulders casting a large shadow on the wall behind your head. He was dressed in a much more casual manner than one would expect of someone who’d been dead for over a century, with corded veins and taut muscles peaking underneath a black compression shirt, waist accentuated where his hips met with a pair of baggy pants. And once you got to his face— you must have lost track of time staring into the gem-like green orbs of his eyes, considering you didn’t notice the scowl his lips wore until his tone pointed it out.

“The hell is this?” He sounded just like he looked, the bass of his timbre ringing most pleasantly in your ears.

You wouldn’t know what being dead felt like, but if it was anything remotely close to sitting on a dead leg for hours on end, you guessed he’d rather take a moment to adjust over an answer.

His soles circled the tiny space, eyes dancing between the fairy lights on the wall, the moonless sky —and by extension the empty driveway outside your window—, the three Polaroids on your desk that depicted an old family trip to Seoul (your mother silently accusing him from the frame for the crime of wearing his shoes inside the house), and lastly, you. His gaze feasted on your body as if he’d been starved for ages and you were the first oasis in the desert, his expression gradually easing into a lopsided smile as he cocked his head to the side.

“Got a name, sweetheart?” he asked in a syrupy sweet tone, the nickname he’d come up with making you doubt he’d use your actual name even if you shared it.

You set the ball aside and hopped on your feet, standing on somewhat more equal ground, though not equal enough to completely diminish the difference in height. He was massive, and you were still processing the kind of person that possessed the power to end this man’s life.

“Name’s Y/N,” you extended your hand. “You must be master Zen’in, nice to meet you!”

He merely glanced at your gesture, leaving you to embarrass yourself without a single qualm. “No one’s called me that in some time,” he expressed wryly. “You know about me?”

You nodded, wiping your palm against your shorts. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen a spirit act all high and mighty, a Zen’in at that. “Who hasn’t heard of the greatest sorcerer there’s ever been?” you chuckled, Gojo’s bootlicking advice coming in for the clutch. “You are somewhat of a legend in the Jujutsu world. The one who mastered the ten shadows technique like no other.”

“Is that who I am now,” he pondered out loud, his index briefly scratching his jaw. “I guess I am,” he grinned with confidence. “That why you summoned me? Wanted to meet with great ol’ me in person?”

“Something like it,” you admitted, finding it hard not to smile back. “I just so happen to be acquainted with this idiot who’s a big fan of yours. Had me use my technique for a passing grade.”

A low hum prompted you to continue. “He’s a real pain in the ass,” you groaned. “Calls himself ‘the strongest’ and acts as if he’s ‘teacher of the year’ when he forces me to fish out intel like some lackey— Actually, you might have heard of his family name before, they’ve been around for ages. Gojo,” quickly adding “Satoru.”

At the sound of your teacher’s name, the man’s eyes widened, his darkened pupils blown with an emotion akin to rage. You weren’t sure what great calamity the Gojos had brought upon him in his previous life, but being familiar with their descendant you doubted they put much effort into it.

“The six eyes is your teacher?” he asked, not giving you enough time to question how on earth he knew that title before he pitched in another question. “So, ya just a kid, huh?”

“I’m not!” you objected. “Turned 18 a while ago.”

“A while, you say?” he arched a brow.

“I’m closer to 19 if anything,” you crossed your arms over your chest.

“19,” he mocked, his droopy eyelids incapable of hiding the way he sized your figure up.

You didn’t even think to put on a bra before the ritual started. Just like you could vividly picture what his pecs looked like under his clothes, your flimsy outfit left little to the imagination, the sweat that’d shimmered across your collarbones and cleavage working in your favor.

“Nah, you are right. No kid could ever have a body like that. Plump and ripe in all the right places,” his tongue lapped over his bottom lip, salacious stare prodding at what your arms kept hidden. “That’s a woman’s body, no doubt.”

Heat spread from your chest all the way to your cheeks, and for once, it wasn’t because of the room’s overbearing heat. Your toes sunk inside the carpet, thighs awkwardly rubbing together. You’d found yourself in such a position before, yet never with a boy like him— never with a man like him.

“Th-thank you,” you mumbled, your fingers hesitantly sliding down your elbows.

He took a step closer, lacking hesitation as he lifted your chin with two fingers, his thumb gently caressing it.

“Gonna let me look at the rest, baby?” his other hand encompassed your hip, the size of his palm alone making you feel oh-so small and fragile before him. “I’ll make ya a deal if you lemme. Tell ya anything you wanna know and more— heh, I’ll make sure ya pass with flying colors.”

“I don’t… I’m not-”

Depriving you of the chance to deny his advances, the man slotted his lips between yours and pulled back almost instantaneously, overjoyed to catch you leaning into his touch for more.

You weren’t sure why this was happening— why you were letting this happen. He was a stranger who barely qualified as being alive, and at the time of his death, he was closer to your father’s age than yours. But he was there, and he was paying you attention, and the way he spoke to you as if he already knew your answer ahead of your mouth had warmth spiraling to the lower parts of your body.

Rather than giving in to your pouty lips, the man whose name you didn’t even know cupped your breasts in both his hands, calloused thumbs making quick work of your nipples as they peaked below the drenched fabric, rolling the sensitive buds into full hardness.

“Such a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” he praised, kneading at your supple skin almost adoringly.

The straps of your top slid down your shoulders, and you felt the ghost of a smile press onto your neck, his warm mouth smearing wet kisses right to where your neck and shoulders connected. You bit back a sigh, your breath audibly strained.

“Bet you wanna be touched, hmm?” he continued, finding the sweet spot you didn’t know you had, and pressed on, his sharp teeth digging into your flesh coaxing a purr from deep within your throat. He chuckled, the vibrations making you shudder. “That why you’re dressed like a slut? Wanna be treated like one, mm?” his lips parted again, tongue lapping over the delicate bruise his teeth left as he pinched your nipples harshly. A moan was ripped from your slack jaw, the insult he carelessly threw adding to the slick between your thighs.

“Sounds about right,” he smirked. “Well, I’m not complaining. You’re a sight for sore eyes, kitten.”

He didn’t ask for permission before he tugged at your shirt, your breasts spilling out with a single bounce. You saw him wet his lips once more, fingers seizing your now-exposed nipples and lustful eyes admiring them up close. You hadn’t noticed how close he was standing until his hips bucked against yours, alerting you to how painfully hard he’d gotten underneath his pants. The six-year-long refractory period his body was subjected to was far too cruel— though you wouldn’t know about that until much later.

“Tell me,” he requested, pausing just so he could look you dead in the eye. “Have you ever done this before?”

His lips traversed the valley of your breasts, rough palms sliding languidly across your ribs and waist. You could see him hold you like that while being inches deep in you. Slamming your frail little set of bones against your desk’s wooden surface. Pounding your hole for your parents to return to their precious daughter bent in half by some stranger. Bruising Gojo’s star student until the smug smile was wiped from his obnoxious mouth for good.

All those reasons made you nod at his question, not caring that he’d be ten times rougher because of your white lie. If anything, you looked forward to that.

“Sure you’re not lying to me?” he read your mind like an open book, the elastic of your shorts being torn away from your body. “Won’t be mad if y’are. I love myself a sweet little virgin. Love how whiny their voices get. How,” he lowered himself onto his knees, palm pushing you to sit on your bed “cute their little tight cunts look all stretched around me.”

His hot breath fanned over your soaked panties, index lazily rubbing back and forth between your clothed slit, the added friction sending a pleasurable tingle up your spine.

“You really aren’t one, are ya?”

You shook your head repeatedly like a bobblehead doll, propping your weight onto your elbows as he lifted your legs on his shoulders, the reality of his choppy raven hair nuzzling to your thighs finally hitting you.

“You said all you wanted to do was look, right?” the finger that was hooked around your underwear stopped. “That was the deal…”

For a brief yet conscious second, his eyes bore into yours with such spite that you thought you’d completely messed up. Only a virgin would dare say something this stupid. If he wasn’t bound to you by the ritual, he’d be out the door the moment you spat those words, you knew it, but then his knuckles brushed over your abdomen to find the hand that clenched onto the sheets, and you realized that wasn’t the case.

“Deals get altered and terms renewed all the time,” he mumbled distractedly, deeply inhaling your scent on his nose, while your fingers unfolded between his lips. You gasped, the sight of him fucking them in and out his mouth —tongue slithering right in the middle and saliva dribbling down his chin as he popped them out— enough to hypnotize whatever sense out of your brain.

“I’ll make ya a new deal,” he hummed, gently directing them to your mouth as if he beckoned you to do the same. A smirk tugged at his scar as he watched your pink lips obediently part and round around your own fingers. He didn’t let go until he heard you choke, secretly plotting to replace them with something else—sooner, than later.

“My technique is what interests you, right? How about instead of telling you, I show you?”

You tried to remove your hand, but he shoved it back in, his true colors pouring into a devilish smile. “I’ve had enough of your voice. All you gotta do is sit back like the good little girl I know you are and keep your legs nice and spread for me. How’s that?”

The only thing your head could manage was pathetically bob up and down in agreement, your fingers stuck in your mouth like a damn pacifier, while your cunt pulsed at every single word he uttered; derogatory or not. Were it any other guy talking down to you like that, your knuckles would be leaving an impermanent imprint on his cheek. Were it any other guy treating you as if you had no volition of your own as if you were just a toy for him to break, and you—

There wouldn’t be any other guy for you ever again. He’d make sure of it.

He ripped the fabric into a single shred and tossed it over his shoulder without caring where it landed- your bedside lamp. He looked down at your pussy, debating to himself whether to start with his tongue or fingers first, calculating the time it’d take for him to prep you for his cock down to the last second. He might’ve been a lot less nice than he pretended to be, but he wasn’t about to go out of his way to hurt you. Not intentionally, at least.

“Let’s see,” he tipped forward, the way his forefinger slipped between your folds without any resistance whatsoever bringing you shame. It didn’t go unnoticed by him, his digit triumphantly pulling out and smearing your slick all over your puffy lips. “Is that all for me, sweetheart? So fucking wet just for me?”

Your hips bucked forward as an answer to his question and he thought he wouldn’t mind taking things slow for once— see how much you could take before you came completely undone.

“Girls like you make the best fuck,” he cooed, voice echoing right through your core. “Surrendering to the first sweet word they hear.” His thumb circled your clit, flicking at the little bundle of nerves. “Leaking at the slightest of touch.” His middle and ring fingers joined in the action, burying themselves as far inside walls as your tight hole let him push. “Breaking so easily.” He drooled, coating your entire pussy in his thick saliva before allowing himself a taste, tongue lapping at the mix of juices straight from the source.

Your thighs clenched around him, muffling the lewdness of a whimper as he looked up at you, his smirk loosening with every kitten lick across your flesh. You wanted to say something, to call out his name and moan for him, but it all felt so unpracticed— similarly to how unpracticed your cunt was when it came to the girth of his fingers; much bigger than yours, more experienced too. He reached depths you didn’t know existed, bringing your body such pleasure that had you writhing for more, hips slamming against his face.

He groaned, his own arousal throbbing against his lower abdomen, begging him to get this over with. “Wanna fuck my face, baby?”

You felt your cheeks ignite anew, the eyes you’d fallen for at first sight overflowing with lust, convincing you it felt as good for him as it felt for you.

“Can’t let ya do that,” he parted your folds, fingers spreading your thighs apart while his tongue darted between your lips, his nose intentionally nudging the pink nub with each deep stroke against your spongy spot. “Gotta earn it first.”

You stared at him like an idiot, wondering to yourself if somewhere between his refusal to shake your hand and his eagerness to quench his thirst with your body you’d passed away because that was what heaven ought to feel like. That was what angels ought to look like.

“Got something to say, princess?” his eyes shot up and he gestured for you to unlatch your mouth.

“S-so pretty,” you whispered.

“What was that?” his ears perked up, not because he hadn’t heard you the first time, but because he could do with some affirmation himself.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this… f-fuck—” a yelp punched its way out of your lungs as he folded you in half, pinning your thighs onto your stomach, and crawling onto the bed right after them.

He’d had enough of this little game.

“Good girls shouldn’t cuss like that. Six eyes didn’t teach ya that?”

Holding you down with one hand, he dived back into your pussy, his fingers pumping in and out of you at a furious pace that had your upper body tossing and turning, the first unregulated moans ushering him to keep going. His tongue toyed with your swollen bud, the squelching of your cunt growing significantly louder from this angle, reverberating throughout the four walls of your bedroom. You were close, and so was he to getting his dick wet with all the mess he’d helped create.

His mouth watered just at the thought of his seed being the one to dribble down your thighs instead of his spit. He could picture you in one of those cute blue-navy skirts hanging from your closet and hoped you weren’t a tights person. He wanted to see you off to school every morning with your thighs sticking together so deliciously that anyone smart enough would understand how meticulously he’d fucked the brat out of you—

If only there was a mirror for you to see how stunning you looked. All fucked out and writhing, disheveled hair stuck on your tits and forehead while you nuzzled to the pillows, your shaky voice calling out to the surname he’d left behind. Would you still do that if you knew he played you like a fiddle? If you knew he was no esteemed Zen’in or sorcerer, for that matter, but a man hell-bent on ruining you for his own sick satisfaction?

Your body reciprocated his vile thoughts, your pussy fluttering around his digits. “Gonna cum for me?” he panted, forcing your legs to the side lest he missed a reaction.

Neither of you realized how his one hand had sneaked into his pants, stroking his veiny cock closer to the ecstasy he craved. Precum leaked hot out of the reddened tip, his thumb frantically swiping it over his length in sync with his thrusts. He’d stopped listening to your pleas and instructions. He fucked his fingers in you as he pleased, slowing down only when his balls began to dangerously tighten. Only then did he tear his fingers away ‘cause God forbid he busts his load in his palm like some fucking untouched teenager— regardless of how obscenely pretty you appeared for him or not.

Once he regained his composure, words made sense again. Harder. Faster. More. He hated being told what to do but absolutely loved how pliant you were. A people-pleaser, he bet. Going above and beyond what was asked of you, bending and breaking into whatever molds others force you to fit. He could work with that. Shape you into a mold only he could fit in.

“Cum for me, baby. Show me how much prettier y’ can get.”

His cock twitched as he felt your walls clamp down around his fingers, your sweet face contorting with pleasure, lips swollen with how hard they’d tried to contain the last bits of debouched decency.

How cute.

He set your legs down and moved up to meet your face with his, a wave of genuine softness rushing over him as he thought to kiss your lips tenderly, hushing whatever emotion had you spasming. You were so sensitive. Even if you’d been with another guy before him, he doubted they knew what they were doing— not like he did, anyway. He’d make you scream out his name for the neighbors to hear what a dirty slut lived just next door from them.

After a short while of his stroking your hair and whispering filth into your ears, he decided he’d been good enough to get his trick. He took your hand in his and guided it to his cock, grinning like a little kid as your smaller palm traced the outline over his pants, knowing full well both hands would do nothing to cover his girth.

He’d really missed this— so much that he didn’t mind letting a grunt out in appreciation, certain that more would follow.

Your eyes met, the spark in them telling him you understood what he expected you to do, and even if you didn’t, he’d teach you. He’d teach you everything, snatch you from that piece of shit and make you into his star student, so long as you kept touching him and let him do all the things he’d spent the last thirty minutes fantasizing about.

Everything and anything, all for you to take—

The thoughts that failed to reach your ears along with all traces of the man whose weight alone -up until a moment ago- threatened to crush your body into a fine powder evaporated, the smooth sound of his voice replaced by the crude breaks of your father’s car as he pulled into the driveway— your mother’s kitten heels soon clicking atop every step they climbed.

Shit.

A/N: I actually intended for this to be a one-shot, but I guess it sort of ended on a cliffhanger so, oops. Lemme know if I should write a second and final part, or if you have any Toji ideas/requests ♡

#Toji x reader #toji x y/n #fushiguro toji #zenin toji #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fanfiction #jjk fanfiction #toji <3 #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji headcanons #jjk toji #toji scenarios #toji smut #toji fic #toji x you #toji x self insert #jjk headcanons #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[spacedace]

Reluctant War AU Part 2

Part One

...I ended up writing more for that Reluctant War AU...Like. Wrote this before work and started on part 3 with plans for part 4 more.

this was supposed to just be a brain worm what happened (also thank you @catastrophic-crow for the AU name <3 <3 <3 Also, also: welcome to the cult of Ancient of the Speedforce Elle! Membership includes nonsense, shenanigans and chaos haha)

-

Gotham had always been a place for ghosts.

Every corner haunted by death and tragedy.

Every street stained red at least once in its many years.

Every dark shadow holding the faint shadows and shades of the dead.

Gotham was, before all else, a grave yard.

Jason had known that his entire life. Every kid born and raised in the Alley did. Death came fast to Gotham’s streets. Especially for those the rest of the city turned its back on. He did his best to lighten the reaper’s load when it came to the people that called Crime Alley home. Well, mostly. He’d certainly added names to old Death’s list before, when the occasion called.

When the armies of the dead descended upon Gotham, the only surprise Jason could feel was that those white wearing pieces of shit had dared to try and hunker down in his city.

It was a sentiment shared by most of Gotham’s fine citizens. By the city itself - herself? Something to ask later, if there was a later - even if the impossible, living shadow that rose up out of Gotham’s many dark corners was anything to go by. He knew, almost instinctively, that the entity - skin of cracked pavement, mouth a bridge suspended too wide across the face, eyes of CCTV camera lenses and body built brick by grimy, bloody brick of the sharp skyline - was Gotham. Not a ghost but something bigger, greater. Something awfully, terribly alive in all its horrible, noble glory. His city, manifest in the shape almost human beneath the green glow of the torn apart sky above.

Phantom’s armies arrived without warning as they had everywhere else, and their enemies poured out in unforgivably unmarred white suits to meet them. Horrible and garish against the Gotham streets. How they’d ever managed to slink by unnoticed while being so blatantly, clearly not of Gotham Jason wasn’t sure he’d ever know.

If either side thought this would be like the battles they fought before, they were mistaken.

Gotham was a place for Ghosts.

A place the dead piled up, lingered well beyond their deaths. A place where the rules were different from everywhere else in the world. Where crime was rampant and chaos reigned but at the end of the day people said their thanks that they were born to this hellhole and not so cursed to call anywhere else in the world home.

The dead came to fight

And Gotham, a thing so alive it was sickening to look upon, rose up to fight right along side them all.

The agents were ready and prepared for the incursion of the dead. It’d been two weeks since the first volley of attacks. Two weeks spent shoring up defenses and ramping up weapons and strategizing ways to kill what was already dead. They were, as best as they were able to be considering how endless the armies that came for them, prepared.

They weren’t prepared for Gotham.

Weren’t prepared for the city itself to rise up and take spectral, eldritch shape. Jagged building spire and shattered glass teeth bared in a snarl that spanned miles. Screaming rage in a voice made of gunfire and the concussive boom of explosions and the shrieks of a furious crowd.

Weren’t prepared for its people to ignore the gentle ushering of the dead trying to push them away to safety and instead press forward to fight shoulder to shoulder with the ghostly armies.

Weren’t prepared to have brick and bottles and trash and debris rain down upon them from the jeering living. Weren’t prepared for dirty faced children with hard eyes to light up rags stuffed into chipped beer bottles filled with gas and kerosene and throw them with more speed an accuracy than any professional baseball player. Weren’t ready for Gotham’s motley crew of terrifying Rogues to band together with the citizens they so often accosted and worried and bring down wave after wave of chaos and Goons.

Weren’t prepared for Red Hood to swap out his rubber bullets for the real deal and start mowing the fuckers in white down, his own crew at his back, the rest of the Outlaws on their way.

The Justice League was trying to find a peaceful resolution. Trying to play go between to the US Government and the infinite dead. Too wound up in US politics to side with the dead outright, too disgusted by what the American government had done to ever want to stand with them. All it had gotten them was spun wheels and confusion and the slow creeping realization that the time to try and play negotiators had well passed.

Red Hood wasn’t a member of the Justice League.

He had no obligation to try and find a way to talk things out.

What he had was a grave he’d dug his way out of, enough ammunition to arm a sizable country, and a burning need to make things right.

Gotham had always been a place for ghosts, and Jason had long accepted that he was one of them.

Haunting the streets he’d survived as a child, the city he protected as Robin, the family he’d loved and lost a thousand and one times before and after his death.

The sky cracked open above his home, and it was not an invading army that came rushing out but a native one. Friends, neighbors, strangers on the street you caught from the corner of your eye. The people of Gotham knew their own and fought for them. Only Gotham was allowed to fucked with Gotham and they’d been screwed over enough by the government themselves to know what side they were on.

He lifted his guns and fired, teeth bared in vicious satisfaction beneath his helmet as white was splattered bright red.

A hissing electric whine of a weapon, a flash of green from the edge of his vision.

“Down!”

He was thrown bodily to the cracked and ruined street beneath him, the body shielding him warm and living as one of the agent’s weapon fired a blast of energy right where he’d been a second before. He’d seen that same weapon reduce one of the raging dead to dripping green and screams of agony the dead should not be capable of making.

Before he could shove himself up and respond in kind, the body above him was in motion and the air above him cracking with the snapping-popping-roar of a gun of a much higher power than even what he had. The fucker in white that had shot at him dissolved into a mist of red viscera, body seizing and shuttering in the briefest moment it had before it was obliterated completely.

“Watch yourself.” He looked up - and up - and wondered at the lovely, fierce face he found staring down at him. “Even without shooting at them you’re Liminal enough to trip their sensors.”

She was tall enough to be an amazon, six inches in height on him at least. Body strong beneath the pitch black armor she work - as deep and dark as the depths of space, etched with starlight, a familiar crest upon her chest in the dizzying burst of a supernova - she held herself with confidence. Strands of hair the color of a warning sunrise escaped out from beneath the helm she wore, bright against her pale skin, warming the glass-sharp teal eyes that had pinned him in place.

The hand not holding the gun she’d just used to delete the asshole that had just tried to shoot him - a strange, impossible thing that made him taste lightning at the back of his throat to look at it - stretched out to help him up.

He accepted it.

Something pulsed to life in his chest. A piece forgotten where it’d been left behind, half buried in grave dirt and broken pieces of a casket he’d clawed his way out of. It burned like a hot coal in his chest, froze him with the same aching cold of a blizzard, crackled his nerves to life with lightning even as his brain popped and fried with the same sizzling energy.

On his feet, hair on end and body and Core pulsing with the need to fight, to rend and tear and scream for all done to him, his people, his home, he met the eyes of the woman before him. Her cool gaze softened, just a moment, just a second as she seemed to realize what had happened. Her hand, lighter than the armor she wore should allow it to be, tightened on his just a moment, mouth tilting from determined frown to soft understanding.

Gotham had always been a place for ghosts.

Jason had long accepted that he was one of them.

---

Part Three

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #jason todd #jazz fenton #GIW #reluctant war au #ghost zone goes to war #ghost king danny #liminal jazz #halfa jason #sorta kinda #he's waking up alright #anger management #if you squint but if i do end up writing even more of this it'll be a thing lol #spirit of gotham #gotham spirit #eldritch gotham spirit #tw death #tw violence #implied gore #gothamites take one look at the GIW and are like: yup time to fuck some bitches up #the entire city has been itching for a chance to fight the US government after all the times they got cut off after a disaster #ghosts are trying to evacuate them and they're like: Nah we're good #Gotham Girl Scouts get badges for making molotov cocktails and knife fighting you can't convince me otherwise #Outlaws are gonna show up to find Jason has somehow collected yet another tall red head that can kick his ass #They're convinced he has the world's most specific meta ability with how many he ends up running around with #Bruce in mid convo w/ Waller trying not to kill her suddenly has his *one of my kids is Up To Something* senses go off

[fragileheartbeats]

Create another valyrian household that escaped Valyria. They hid themselves away by magic on an island not visible to anyone, they don't wish to be seen. On an island with a huge fortress accompanied with another smaller fortress which is basically a library. They are similar to Targaryens, but much more knowledgeable on everything (thanks to Valyria). They ride dragons, purple shades of eyes, silver-gold hair. Only two differences being, they have never been married outside of family(yuck) with no Westerosi blood therefore very different customs, fully valyrian customs and traditions rather than Westerosi+valyrian(Targs, Vels). Hope you have fun, thank you:)

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐋𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

꒰͡ ⠀ ִ 𝐺𝐸𝑁𝑇𝐿𝐸 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐿𝑂𝑉𝐼𝑁𝐺 ⠀ׂ ⠀ ͡꒱

─ 𝘈 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤, 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𖤐

─ 𝘈 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𖤐

In the rich tapestry of Valyrian history, woven with the threads of power, magic, and dragonfire, the House Lyrielle stands as a testament to the enduring grace and wisdom of Old Valyria. Their story is a whisper on the wind, a secret melody sung by the waves that surround their hidden island sanctuary. Known to but a few, the Lyrielles are the guardians of a legacy untainted by the ambition and corruption that led to the Doom. The sigil of House Lyrielle is as enigmatic as the house itself—an angelic dragon, graceful and serene, enwreathed in a ring of white roses against a backdrop of deepest emerald. The dragon, smaller in stature but fierce in its intelligence and agility, represents the nature of the Lyrielles' own dragons. The emerald ground symbolizes their secluded island, a jewel hidden in the vast sea, and the white roses signify the purity of their intentions and the mystical barriers that veil their home from the unwary eye. Their words, "Beyond Sight, Within Light," speak to the heart of the House Lyrielle ethos. They live beyond the sight of the known world, in a realm of their own making, where knowledge and virtue shine brighter than any Valyrian steel. These words are a promise of their commitment to the greater good, a reminder of their hidden presence guiding the fate of the world from the shadows. The Lyrielles, in their seclusion, have preserved the purity of their Valyrian bloodline, untouched by Westerosi influence. Their customs and traditions remain a living tapestry of Old Valyria's glory, a culture preserved in amber amidst the tumultuous seas of change. Education and learning are held in the highest regard. The smaller fortress, known as the Lyceum of Light, houses a vast collection of scrolls and tomes, not only on magic and dragonlore but on the sciences, arts, and philosophies of the wider world. Even though the Lyrielles seclude themselves from the outside, they possess an insatiable thirst for knowledge that keeps their minds as sharp as their swords. The Lyrielles are ethereal in their beauty, with eyes that hold the mysteries of the universe—shades of purple that shift with the light. Their silver-gold hair flows like liquid moonlight, a hallmark of their Valyrian bloodline. They are skilled in the art of healing, their touch capable of mending wounds that would confound even the most learned maesters. Their bond with their dragons is profound, rooted in a deep understanding and respect for these majestic creatures.

Their dragons, lithe and swift, mirror their masters in both appearance and temperament. With scales that catch the moon's light, casting reflections in hues of amethyst and sapphire, they are specters of the night sky, their presence felt rather than seen, their agility unmatched by any creature, mythical or otherwise. To the Lyrielles, the world outside is a place of beauty marred by the scars of greed and violence. They see themselves as custodians of what remains pure and true. Their philosophy is one of balance and harmony, seeking to preserve the natural world and its wonders. They are benevolent, yet their kindness is not a weakness but a strength, fortified by their unwavering sense of justice and fairness.

The Lyrielles embody a paradox. They are both guardians and isolationists, wielding their power to protect the natural world and its untold secrets while shunning the very societies they seek to preserve from afar. Their personalities are marked by a gentle demeanor, an innate grace that belies the strength and wisdom that centuries of unbroken tradition have instilled in them. They are the custodians of healing, their knowledge of the arcane arts allowing them to mend wounds and cure maladies thought beyond the reach of mortal hands. Yet, for all their power and knowledge, the Lyrielles possess a naivety born of their seclusion. They view the outside world through the lens of caution and fear, tales of its dangers passed down through generations. This isolation has fostered a deep sense of kinship and loyalty among them, their bonds unbreakable, their trust in one another absolute. In a realm where the quest for power often leads to ruin, House Lyrielle remains a beacon of hope. They are the whisper in the heart of the storm, the unseen hand that guides towards light. Their existence is a testament to the belief that even in the darkest of times, there are those who shine brightly, not for glory or fame, but for the love of all that is good and true in the world.

My other original house:

House Celestyr

House Valysar

@fragileheartbeats . Don't plagiarise, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites.

@emily2003alzaga @nash-dara @altaircc @heavenly1927 @omgsuperstarg @asoiafhyperfixation

#house lyrielle #house of the dragon #house targaryen #house of dragons #house of dragon oc #house of the dragon x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd oc #hotd x reader #a song of ice and fire #song of ice and fire #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones oc #game of thrones #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #daemon targeryan #daemon targaryen x reader #writing #fantasy #novel #story #daemon x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #asoiaf

[deedadobee]

Feathered Inconvenience (a tumblr x twitter fanfic)

i lost a bet, have at it kiddos!! posting chapter 2 when this hits 5K :]

~ chapter 1

Escaping to a forest after a midlife crisis wasn’t what Tumblr had on his to-do list, especially not after flunking his presentation. It’s not like his presentations were bad, they were excellent, he detailed what his company asked for and brought in ideas that filled their blanks. Another note, having his rival, Twitter, taking a trip away from the office made it easy for him to excel and succeed, it was all going perfectly. So, what was the issue?

Simple, he was bored, and it felt like shit. He loved his job, but it was getting boring, with the same circulation of events but in different fonts and colors. He needed inspiration, something that would bring fascination back into his vision. Tumblr’s back slid against a huge tree, speckles of light shining through the leaves and branches. He closed his eyes and begged his mind to be quiet.

“Maybe I just need to change the office theme again.” Tumblr told himself, crossing his arms while deep in thought.

The suited gent shook his head, rejecting his own idea and kept thinking. He always knew what to do, what to make out of an issue. He was great, that’s why some higher ups favored him. It was also the reason he stuck around for such a long time too. Tumblr loved his job, but this, being stuck due to the lack of anyone qualified to be in his place, is slowly crushing him.

Tumblr’s chest rose as he took a deep breath in. He needed an escape. No, he needed to stay. No, he needed…

What did he need?

Tumblr, with his head hanging in defeat, pushed himself off of the tree, squinting his eyes as he stepped away from the shade. He’s just going to go back to his apartment, and take a day off to really get himself far away from this rut. But a small noise stopped him in his tracks.

A bird chirped to itself on the ground, one of its wings appearing to be hurt. Tumblr simply tilted his head and walked to the feathered guy. He was a tall shadow to the bird, so it was normal of the bird to try and scramble away. Tumblr crouched down, and lent his arm out with his hand open, inviting the bird to just hop on.

“Not gonna hurt you, I promise.” Tumblr said calmly, a tinge of a tired smile appears. The man must’ve been really weary, because the bird really seemed to be considering his help.

After careful consideration, the bird hopped onto the palm of Tumblr’s hand, and flattened in a relaxed way. Tumblr hummed and stood back up, a hand hovering over the bird in case the sun was too bright for it.

“What’s wrong with your wings, lil guy?” Tumblr asked while slowly inspecting. He didn’t really expect a bird to understand or reply but it did; the bird’s beak pointed at its wing, crooked, ouch. While checking for any more injuries, Tumblr noticed the mud and leaves covering the bird’s exquisite light blue feathers. He admired it and smiled to himself. Blue was his favorite color, unironically.

“Good thing I caught you before any firefoxes did, huh?” Tumblr chuckled, as the bird shivered at the fact it could have already been eaten up.

Without any introductions or directions, Tumblr walked out of the forest, not only with a temporary distraction, but also a feathery friend. Yes, it wasn't the best answer to his crisis, but it was something to get his mind off of it. Maybe after helping this bird, his mind would clear up.

Unbeknownst to him, there was a group of people looking for the very thing he was determined to take care of.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Tumblr dug around his pockets to look for keys to his apartment, all while still cupping the blue puff of feathers on his other hand. If anyone walked by him, they’d shoot a confused look. It’s not like this was the first time Tumblr brought home an animal, he almost brought a horse up once because it looked goofy.

The jingles of his keys echoed through the hall, Tumblr paid no mind, but the bird was shifting and peeking around at the tiniest of noises. “Chill, it’s just my keys.” Tumblr replied to his jittery feathered friend.

Entering the apartment, Tumblr flickered a lamp that was by the door, the once dark room was painted with a warm orange hue. His place was nice, packed with folders and papers, and a weirdly large amount of red yarn. Tumblr’s humble abode is catastrophically homey.

Tumblr threw his keys on the cluttered coffee table and flopped on the couch, and placed the small bird on his chest. He sighed and threw his head back, exhausted. This day was tiring, but he had a friend with him.

He could barely take care of himself, but he really was looking forward to nursing his new friend back to health. As he yawned, Tumblr grabbed a pillow and scooped the bird off of him and on the pillow. He patted his feathered friend on the head with his finger and stood up.

“I’m taking a nap, little guy, you better rest up too.” Tumblr’s voice faintly heard as he walked to his bedroom. Within minutes, Tumblr’s snores comically seeped out of the slight agar door of his room.

Tumblr was having a good nap, even in his work shirt and pants on, maybe this was what he needed, a nap, that was until he got woken up by the sound of folders falling. He sat up aggressively, fumbled around to get his trusty baseball bat on the floor. Tumblr’s mind was too tired to think of something intimidating to yell out to whoever was making the noise.

As he creeped to the door of his bedroom with the bat, Tumblr took a shaky breath in and peeked out. He swung the door open and raised his bat to aim, but froze in his place. He didn't expect much, maybe an intruder who wanted to steal his magic wand set or his valuable shoe laces.

What Tumblr saw before his eyes was the very reason he was doing great at work, the reason other people in his office were doing good; he saw Twitter in the middle of his clutter, looking as shocked as Tumblr was.

“What the absolute fuck…” Tumblr pointed the tip of the bat at Twitter, “...Is going on?”

#yes i raised the bar from 100 notes to 5K GOOD LUCK SUCKERS #twitblr #tumblr x twitter #twitter x tumblr #fanfic #lord save me #enemies to lovers #rivals to lovers

[sashiavi]

I already know how u feel about hybrids and ima send the same to neet, but how about unhuman pp for the kink game? :D

Un-Human/Monster Cock

No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK yes | Oh god you don’t even know |

I do enjoy I truly do- especially when writing myself, I find to be fairly detail orientated and having something like this to describe?? I love it.

Obvious choices being Arataki Itto my beloved. Oni anatomy, his body is human presenting but his heritage still shines through~ His large, pointed teeth, red horns, the claws on his hands- I know he's hiding smth in his pants 👉👈 I made a post about it the other day but Itto with a thick, and large cock, with pretty divets and a slightly pointed tip~ I'm not sure if he'd even notice he has a unique cock 😭 he probably assumes everyone's looks like his.

Honourable Mentions being Zhongli or Neauvilette- with pretty dragon cocks, maybe even gradiented with a different colour working its way up his shaft to tip. They all fall under some kind of a/b/o in my head so k n o t s.

Speaking of, SDV Puppy!Sam? With a pretty n cute cock, flushed an angry shade of rose, flexing while he dribbles pre down himself. That boy has a knot I am here to convince you now.

In general I do enjoy reading and writing it >v> don't get me started on things like tentacles yk I'm here for it too-

Hybrids are also a "Oh god you don’t even know"

But you all knew that ;3

#sashiavi asks #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #arataki itto smut #arataki itto x reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli smut #sdv sam x reader #sdv sam smut #sashiavi drabbles #ʚ•*°SashiAvi Writes°*•ɞ #SashiAvi Ask Game

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

The creator had a:

sea streaked child

WC:800

Cw: reader is said to breastfeed but isn't written doing so

Checking the blinds to make sure they were clean, remaking the ruffles so they are even.

Furina had spent her entire morning jittery walking everywhere in the palais mermonia.

Now across the room she is digging in between the blue roses hiding any less than stellar bloom under one of its prettier sisters.

Changing the tea set on the table in the middle of the room, cerulean blue, cobalt blue and sky blue swapping places faster than Neuvillette can pay any mind to.

She sighs, looking defeated at the sets and almost begging them to tell her which one is supposed to be best yet for one second the teapots looked like mocking faces. Throwing herself on a loveseat the room starts to feel smaller and she isn't even totally sure what tea to serve.

“Breath” neuvillette says from the desk, ever since he took over the leading role in Fontaine he spent more time between pages of legal documents, if that is even possible “they are arriving for a simple chat to check on the general management of the region”

“How do you even expect me to be calm when they themselves asked for my attendance for this meeting!” she sits up wobbly, the soft swirling getting worse “I can't even remember what cake you told me they liked… this is going to be a mess”

“Their grace has quite the sweet tooth, as long as what you planned doesn't have coffee it's going to be alright”

“Why no coffee?”

“miss furina… they gave birth a few days ago, it’s disadvised to breastfeed and have caffeinated drinks” seeing her nod and her little ahoge bobbing along he feels the need to confirm “that not only includes coffee and variations but also most teas” and with that she jumps to her feet, quickly excusing herself to make some changes.

“That child…” he sighs as he reviews the documents he wanted to show you and a rough overview, his head resting against his hand and a finger between his teeth. Feeling the door whining softly he laughs from the bottom of his throat “back soon early?”

And as his heart skipped a beat as you spoke “Oh, my, I know I am 30 minutes early but I thought you would like to meet me particularly” you walk deeper inside the room, past the meticulously fixed flowers that you wouldn't have noticed the mistakes on and past the three teapots on the table, each a slightly different shade of blue. Now standing besides neuvillette and facing the documents he just noticed the bundle of white cloth you held onto.

“Did the crops get better with the method I recommended? It left me worried when I left”

“The production got better, if you want to check the report is here” he offers the three papers stuck together by a metal clip when he notices that doing it with a single hand might be hard “if I might help you” he positions his arms to grab the baby and you let her between his arms

“Let's hope she stays asleep, she is such a colicky baby” you whisper but as soon as you finish the sentence she opens her eyes and starts wailing “my goodness…” you sigh deeply.

“Let me take care of it, just focus on that” he stands up and tries to mimic what he saw parents do with their small children whenever something upsetting might come up during the trials and small children would cry.

He grabs her neck and head with one hand and her legs with another, cradling her like you. As he was swaying softly the blanket covering her hair slid down to show pointy ears and softly cartilage mixing on her thin white hair.

“Is she…” but is soon shushed by you, pointing at the door and then to your ears, the message very clear ‘someone might be listening’ but he keeps his eyes glued to you only to catch you mouthing a soundless yes. His hands cradle her head onto his neck, soft blue cartilage sneaking past his fingers.

Now soothed, you two find comfort on the soft sound of passing the pages and Cordelia's breathing, the baby's name he would later find out.

“NEUVI I managed to get a cheesecake and fontas did i save this?!” Furina pushes past the door, holding a full size strawberry cheesecake and hugging three fontas against her chest but seeing you head on thinking you weren't on Fontaine yet “HIYY”

The screech caused Cornelia to get startled and start wailing “Miss Furina.” neuvillette says sternly, almost like a father telling off his daughter. But the only thing it caused was for her to see him hugging a baby suspiciously similar to him which didn't take her long to join the dots.

“OOAH!”

“Furina please stop scaring my daughter!”

#genshin impact #gi #sagau #self aware genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #x reader #neuvillette x reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #neuvillete #genshin neuvillette #neuvillete x reader #meme made in WhatsApp my beloved

[mvniro]

 . . . (🍷) ֶָ֢ 𔓘 THE DRINK IS OF SORROW, KISS IT OFF MY LIPS ; a osamu dazai fic. ❞

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . ahhhhh!!!! deleting your account on accident isn't smthg i'll recommend, this is the downfall to my popularity. :/

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . tw ; sugar daddy!dazai, sugar baby!reader, fem!reader, sensitive!reader, crybaby!reader, reader is insecure and speaks about her insecurities, reader has abandonment issues, reader is shamed of her sensitivity, reader is twenty while dazai is in his late twenties, tease!dazai, riding in a club, angst, hurt to comfort, fluff, nsfw, and yeah that's it ig.

the cold breezes giggled as they watched the leafs on trees dance as if to flirt with them, the cold breezes showed their appreciation to this flirty gesture by blowing around and making the people they passed to shudder.

you hummed to yourself as you swayed your hips around to the song playing on your phone while trailing your index finger through the different lipsticks you owned, trying to choose the perfect one to go with your outfit for today.

as your finger hovered above the shade you carefully picked, the door bell rang and made your head to turn in its direction, a smile on your face as your excitement competed with the fluttering in your heart and you had immediately abandoned your dressing table to rush towards the door, opening it with a big smile on your face, expecting the one dear to your heart and sanity to be standing on the other side.

he wasn't. rather it were his bodyguards who you saw and your smile faltered slightly but not enough to make them think you are displeased with their presence.

the two bulky men bowed halfway which you mirrored before they entered your house and only then did your eyes fell upon their hands which grabbed many shopping bags, all distinguishable for they all belonged to famous brands which are deemed too expensive for people who fall in the same category as you for its as if luxuries and enjoyment is made only for the rich as only they can afford most of it and the ones not belonging to the same class and category as them? they have to compromise, to gain this luxury they must loose something else, the choice is entirely their's however on what to loose and what to gain.

you watched, still standing at the door, as the two men gently placed the many bags on your couch before turning to walk out after bowing to you again which you again mimicked.

as you closed the door, your phone began ringing and although still a bit bummed, you walked towards your dressing table, eyes falling down on your phone whose screen flashed the name of the person who was but a magician for how else will you explain the reappearance of the giddy feelings inside you.

you immediately pick the call and bring it near your ear, eyes closing at the soothing voice which is a hypnotizing lure to you speaking from the other side.

"got your gifts baby doll?" the calm voice wrapped in a teasing tone and a slight purr between his words caused you to raise your thumb and allow it past your parted lips before your lips enclosed your thumb and you gently bit on it, smiling.

"thank you." your voice matches the same calmness his greeted you with and you hear dazai hum, the low sound making your skin feel cold as a chill runs down your spine. perhaps love is really in the air today or maybe it's your expectations for today that has you seeing everything with rose tinted glasses or maybe it's simply the effect dazai has on you.

"happy birthday, sweet doll." dazai's soft voice makes your cheek pain a bit because of the big smile on your face, then you hear him sigh and shuffle on his chair a bit and with the next sentence he spoke, his voice had lost its teasing element and rather adapted a serious tone -- all because you laid your expectations and hopes out in front of him, waiting for him to pick them and treasure them like he usually does.

"when are you coming here?"

"as much as i want to be there, to hold you in my arms while kissing those sweet cheeks of yours . . . i don't think i can make it till late at night. a sudden and urgent meeting came up and i can not possibly miss it, my presence there is essential."

"you . . . won't be coming, will you?" small, meek and reeking of sadness and suddenly you aren't twenty but ten, sitting alone at your birthday party as no one showed up -- but that's nothing compared to now.

after going two weeks without seeing dazai, you hoped and you revealed this thought to him too of how much your heart will swell in gratitude if he shows up for even half an hour on your birthday, it would be more then enough for you.

the way dazai sighs, you don't even have to actually wait to hear him for your heart had already dropped to the deepest pits of your stomach and the intrusion made your stomach churn painfully, influencing your chest as it too felt like it was being compressed by the nimble yet atrocious hands of sadness.

"baby doll, i am sorry." his soft voice only fuels the sadness in your heart more, your eyes land on your reflection in the mirror and you nod,

"no, it's fine. really." you mutter but both you and dazai knows your words are baseless and meaningless for they were spoken as a formality.

"i really wanted to be there, trust me. i'll try to wrap up the meeting soon but i still won't be able to come there until ten --"

you are thirteen again, watching your mother make excuses for your father leaving and then you are fifteen, watching your mother's bestfriend making excuses for her sleeping around with different guys and being absent in your life.

"you don't need to come, it's fine." you watch in your reflection the sadness pooling in your eyes in the form of tears, biting your lip harshly to warn yourself to not cry now, tilting your head as suddenly your lipsticks lined up on the dressing table is a sight which annoys you.

dazai sighs again, running a hand through his hair. "baby please, trust me, i am so sorr--"

"it's fine." you rush to cut him off as you end the call for you don't want to hear his voice now.

"what even is the use of coming here later? i don't care anyway. it's fine, he is busy." you speak to your reflection in the mirror as you feel your throat burn, staggering forwards before you open your drawer and place your lipsticks inside it again.

"but . . . i would've dropped everything for you if it was your birthday." you whisper as you close the drawer and walk towards the couch behind which is the open kitchen as the two rooms have been combined in one to increase the space, a dining table just a few steps forwards and said dining table was your main source of attention today.

yet the thing is, the man for whom you will walk through seas and deserts isn't alone, he has a big corporation behind him who depends on him as well and so, he needs to consider them as well for one mistake on his part will not only affect him but the many who work under him too.

and who is a businessman if not a slave to his business?

you pick the two plates up before putting them in the cabinets again, doing the same with the wine glasses and then taking the dish you cooked in hopes of having dinner with him today and walking towards your fridge to put it inside but the sight of the cake box which you wanted to cut with dazai makes your lip quiver.

for who is a common man but not he who desperately tries to find happiness in small moments and interactions?

"stupid birthday, stupid sugar daddy." you grit your teeth as you slam the door shut, the movement was caused due to the intense frustration and disappointment you felt and as you trudge towards your bedroom, you pass by your couch where the shopping bags were placed neatly, a mockery, a blow to your heart and a massacre on your hopes and expectations.

why does your house feel so cold and unwelcoming? are your walls laughing at your loneliness right now? especially after how you were frantically trying to find the perfect dress to wear today at near midnight? he is going to leave soon too, isn't he?

everyone does.

but since when did dazai become like everyone else or are these just your fears fooling you, you wonder.

the first few drops of tears flowed down like the warning waves of a tsunami in its beginning states, you speed walk towards your bedroom and plop down on your bed, running a hand up and down your arm as you rock back and forth to calm yourself down.

dazai is your demise. he gave you so much love and attention that he filled the hole left by your parents with his own love and look, now how affected you are with his absence even if it's temporary.

but dazai is also your paradise or how else will you explain why you are imagining him backhugging you as you rub your arms to comfort yourself, the many times he stared at you with wide eyes filled with utter adoration or how he immediately drops everything and surrenders himself in whatever way you want him to whenever his eyes fall upon your glossy eyes.

it's him who spoiled you and it's him who encouraged you to cry and throw a tantrum at him whenever he hurted your feelings for dazai osamu is a mean man but oh lord, what a lover he is.

does he not see himself in you, the fragile child of him who was forced to be forgotten as he wore the mask of the arrogant bastard he is now?

does he not heal parts of himself in the process of healing you too or does he not try to find his humanity in the most humane emotion he feels which starts from his love for you and ends on his love for you?

dazai osamu is the man you want to never meet again right now but he is also the man on whose lap you want to bury your head in and cry right now.

but he isn't here and he won't be here for as long as he isn't done with his meeting and the fact that you aren't his first priority but his meeting is will continue to poison your brain with sadness till then.

looking down at the light pink silk dress reaching till your midthighs, you pucker your bottom lip as you remember how hard you tried to look extra preety today for the man whose thoughts follow you like misfortunes following orphans, addiction following the druggie and sorrow following the poor.

your silk dress with spaghetti straps and a slightly low neckline to tease the observer with the slightest sight of your clevage was all for dazai but what use is it now that the said man himself isn't here?

"stupid daddy. fuck him and fuck his meetings." you mutter, wanting to step out for fresh air for as long as you stay inside your apartment, your eyes would fall on the shopping bags and it'll only carve wounds in your flesh as the sadness would giggle before looming over you and stabbing you to let frustration and disappointment enter your body.

though you had many ideas of celebrating your birthday today, sitting alone at the bar of a club wasn't one of them but here you are, hands on the counter and around your wine glass as you rotate the glass to watch the liquid inside it splash around the glass.

how many hours has it been already? you aren't sure, you had switched off your phone too to not be bothered or disturbed by messages from anyone for your mood is sour and lashing at someone undeserving of it is the last thing you would want to do.

you felt the presence of someone next to you as you could hear someone sitting down on the empty stool.

"why is it that such a young girl like you is sitting here all alone?" a voice came from beside you, curious and amused yet you paid no heed to the speaker for your wine glass and the liquid splashing around is the greatest wonder for your somewhat drunk mind.

"why, am i not allowed to be here?" your voice matched his gentleness to let him know that just like him, you mean no harm and hostility.

the man laughed and if you weren't so drunk, would you have still liked the way his laugh reverberated in your ears and made your heart flutter?

"oh dear! that isn't what i meant. i am just curious as to why such a preety girl would sit all by herself, looking so gloomy? had a breakup?" voiced the man who you still haven't looked at for you didn't deem anyone else as important as dazai and if it isn't dazai then why bother looking?

but his voice, the man beside you must be a siren or why would you find your heart at peace as his words enter your ears?

"absolutely not. i am just a bit sad."

"your boyfriend ditched you?" why is his voice laced with a teasing undertone? is he finding your source of gloom to be perhaps an entertainment?

"kind of though it isn't intentional and this is what makes it worse. he didn't mean to yet i am still so stumped over it like a kid. this sensitivity of mine is something i am ashamed of and loathe." your eyes harden as you begin to glower down at your wine glass making it shiver in fear or perhaps its your own hand that is shaking as it sensed the turmoil inside you.

"why?" the man's soft voice urges you to continue forwards.

"it's not the fact that he couldn't make it that's upsetting me but the fact that i am not his first priority -- it's selfish of me, immature even but it is still the truth and this is what i am ashamed of. it's not his absence but my own ungrateful attitude that is making me ashamed for am i not overstepping my boundaries? am i not being greedy? should i not be content with the attention and affection i already get?"

with the finishing of your confession, you inhale a shaky breath before you add the very last of your feelings to this confession which is being expressed to a man whose face you couldn't even bother to look at,

"i am just so hopelessly in love with him that every single thing he does affect me and i am sure this feeling is one sided. i mean . . . when would even want to stay long-term with such a clingy person. it's hopeless! i am hopeless and i wonder why people leave me when the answer is so damn clear. a kid, i am." you scoff in self mockery, gulping the remaining wine which you were previously playing with before the man sat beside you, you place the glass on the counter as you blink one too many times to keep your tears at bay.

"you say you are a kid but with the way you speak, you are anything but a kid. after all, kids don't drink in sorrow, do they?" the joke cracked by the man made you smile for reasons unknown to you and maybe you don't even want to know the reasoning behind the way your lips curled up into a small smile.

"you calling me a kid too, mister?" your amused voice coming out as a tease makes the man next to you chuckle a bit.

"you admitted it yourself so what harm is there if i call you one too?"

"i will cry mister." you playfully threatened him.

"is the little doll trying to make me feel like the bad guy now?" the man's voice couldn't betray his amusement as he nearly chuckled at you antics.

you smile, raising your head to look at him for you want to see the face of the one who is lifting your mood up but you feel the cold dread of a possible confrontation approaching as for the man who sat beside you was none other then the man who was the very reason you find yourself stumbling into this club to attempt to drink your sorrows away, a very futile attempt it proved itself to be.

the said man sat with his elbow propped on the bar counter, cheek resting on his palm as he continued to look at you with an amused smile dancing on his lips, a glass of whiskey in his hands as he raised the glass to his mouth, parting his soft lips before gulping down the liquid as the liquid flows down his throat, adam's apple bobbing with the movement.

you quickly turn your face away from him, opting to stare at your now empty wine glass instead, a frown evident on your lips to let the man know of your displeasure upon seeing him but your fingers twitching in excitement under his hard gaze told him all he needed to, after all, can you ever be really angry at the man?

a black hole opens up in your stomach, sucking in your energy and everything else and the remains is the gloom settling on top of your irises as the conversation from a few hours ago, your excited state before receiving it played in your mind like a broken record who suddenly started working after being forced to by a sudden force.

"did anyone ever tell you how adorable you look when you are sad?" he mused and raised his eyebrows at the lack of reply, nevertheless entertained. he tried to grab your nape but you slapped his hand away midway, making dazai raise his eyebrows yet again.

"who are you? don't you know it's not good to talk to strangers?" your reply comes out as more of a snap for all the pent up emotions and feelings are now forcing their way out, seeing as you wouldn't let them out yourself. you clench your thighs slightly together to not notice how dazai is staring at you with gentle eyes or how he ran his hand through his hair.

"we are strangers?" dazai cocked an eyebrow before he grinned again, the same cocky grin which you are itching to remove off his face yet it is this same grin that is making butterflies enter the black hole in your stomach.

"but dolly you'll never have someone as handsome as me talk to you so how can i be a stranger? i am preety confident that my face isn't one to be forgotten soon yet you did? oh, how cruel of you to wound my heart like this!" dazai pouted in faux offense mixed with disbelief before he took one of the ice cubes from his glass ; setting the glass on the bar counter, dazai scooted his stool closer to your's.

"mister it seems as if you have had one too many drinks. you sound drunk with the bullshit you are spewing." you scoot your stool an inch at most away from his but dazai does the same with his as he speaks,

"then shouldn't you be a good girl and help this drunk old man?" dazai sees you scooting your stool away again and chuckles silently, grabbing the edge of your stool to restrict any further movements as he leans near you, dropping the melting ice cube inside your dress and down your clevage making you yelp, the ice leaves a trail of water and coldness behind as it flows down your chest and onto your stomach.

you bow your head in embarrassment as it attracts the attention of the bartender near you two who was serving another customer before you turn to look at dazai, glaring at him when you hear him giggle like a schoolboy.

"isn't it clear that i do not want to talk to you?" you snap.

"you don't want to?" dazai raises his eyebrows and sees you nod, he then proceeded to lean closer to you, lips inches away from your ear, licking it only slightly to make you shiver, which when you do, made him smirk in self satisfaction.

"but i want to talk to you," dazai placed his index finger on your exposed collarbone as he lightly traces it with his nail before letting his hand trail towards your shoulder. man, he really does want to take this dress off of you but he can't, not when you are still upset so for now, he'll just try to be content with caressing your collarbone and watching the area he touched be littered with goosebumps.

"i also want to make you sit on my lap and kiss you," he continued, hand now gripping your shoulder as he drags it up and down the length of your arm, you could only gulp.

"but since you don't want to talk to me, i guess i won't force you, i am somewhat of a gentleman after all." and he immediately retracts his hand which along with the way he sits back straight makes you miss his presence being near you, you look at him though your face remains blank as to not let him have his satisfaction upon seeing you reacting in anyway. dazai turns to his empty whiskey glass and takes the small, nearly melted ice cube between his fingers.

"thank you, now leave too." you hiss, closing your eyes when dazai yet again drops the ice cube on your clevage and you are once again forced to feel the temporary freezing sensation of the cube gliding down your chest and onto your stomach. when you opened your eyes again, you saw dazai leaning a bit too close to you to be considered appropriate given the place you two are at, but isn't the club the most appropriate place for this as well. for the club is practically one of the houses of heartbreak and of lust and the castle of mistakes and of fun.

"and let these other bastards think they have a chance with you? i don't think so," dazai mumbled out, eyes staring down at your lips before trailing back up to your eyes again as he grinned, cockily, "besides, i can sit wherever i want and right now, i feel like sitting here. it's comfortable here, i wonder why?"

he extended his arm forwards to wrap it around your waist to push you closer to him, the flat of his palm resting against the silk which worked as the only barrier against his skin and your's, dazai only laughed as you tried to push his chest to create distance but did you really need any when he clearly saw the way your breath hitched  when your arm brushed against his chest. his other hand is holding your elbow in place to stop you from trying to push him away.

"maybe it's because you are here?" dazai hums as he taps his fingers against your hip but would you not falter and would your heart not throw the anger away if he continued to give you the touches you so crave?

"i really think you are only spewing bullshit right now, don't you know you are bothering me?" you raise your eyebrows at him as you smile sarcastically, as if challenging him and his ego, to edge him on till he has no choice but to remain silent for no words would formulate in that witty brain of his ; this is what you want to achieve at the very moment when you began to speak again.

"am i getting you all hot and bothered now, doll?" dazai grinned, tilting his head in such a way that caused his bangs to fall over his eyes while his thumb caressed your hipbone, going up and down to flatten the fabric clutching against your skin.

"do you not know the concept of someone not wanting to talk to you or were you always ignorant enough to think everyone would die to talk to you?"

your heart fluttered. the pressing down of dazai's thumb on your hip indicated you are somewhat succeeding in irritating him but is he dazai if he lets others get to him when it is always the other way around?

absolutely not.

"i mean, isn't it the truth? people would actually sell their souls to devil to have one chance with me. so if i may say so, you should consider yourself lucky, baby doll."

confidence in himself had always been dazai's weapon and it has always been your weakness.

your smile faltered, whatever determination you had in your eyes suddenly left you once again and you dropped your head, looking down.

had his words been the ones to bring you back to reality or were they the key to open your door of fears and insecurities?

"right. lucky." you smirk bitterly, nodding as you look away from him again. "so was not meeting me for two weeks your way of telling me to always remember my place or something? because it worked." you chuckled but it was humorless and one look at the serious expression on dazai's face only proved the point further.

ah fuck, dazai felt his throat being gripped. he can't breath suddenly with the way your eyes look so glossy, bottom lip jutted upwards slightly to form a small pout, should he lean in and kiss you now?

your vulnerability was always something that dazai cherished greatly.

"and i'll rather die then ever forget my place agai --" your eyes widened, words left hanging on the tip of your tongue and heart left unsheltered when your ribcage opened up to allow the hands of love to rip them open.

because this is how you feel emotions. strongly and dangerously. a threat to yourself because daddy was never there to properly teach you to feel things and mommy never knew how to control her own emotions, how could you expect her to help you?

you closed your eyes, perhaps due to the intimacy of the moment or to hide your eyes burning with tears, you won't try to find meaning behind your gestures and actions now when dazai is greedily devouring your lips in a heated kiss, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed as if trying to prove himself and his point but what?

your hand raises to grab his shirt collar and to pull him forwards because you want more, you want to drown yourself in this kiss. you want to feel nothing but the movement of his lips against your's ; his hand on your hip which slithered down to grab your thigh harshly and tug it closer to him to ultimately pull you closer to him, his other hand which was resting by his side until this moment is now gripping your jaw to guide you to tilt your mouth so he could kiss you better.

you felt the black hole in your stomach being overpowered by arousal and what does a vessel do when it reaches its limit?

so the arousal flowed down towards your lower torso and decided to settle there, marking its territory by making your slick run down and stain your underwear.

"shut up, shut up, shut up." dazai chanted in a low tone against your lips because he wants you to feel every word which will leave his lips.

but how can you focus on his words when he looks so good with your lipstick stain around his lips, you lean upwards to press a quick peck on his jaw and when you pulled back, you saw the light lipstick stamp there as well, making you feel a bit giddy knowing those are your lips which were against his skin once.

dazai grabbed your chin to force you to look at him, pulling your chin to have your lips against his again.

"can't you fucking sit and look preety for me? is that so hard? who told you to run that dumb brain of your's?" he tightened his grip on your jaw, biting your lower lip with enough force to make your body twitch as you inhale sharply due to the pain and suddenness of his action.

"do you think i didn't want to meet you? i was ignoring you on purpose? you think i didn't want to abandon my work and come to you? i thought about it almost every single day but what can i do? i am not alone, my actions aren't mine alone." dazai pauses to release a chuckle and the way it makes the hair on the back of your neck stand for the way his lips move against your's with every word he speaks makes your stomach tingle and your heart to abandon every grudge and anger at once to bow down to him.

the way he is looking up at you with those brown pupils which holds the sweetest honey and the most earthly comfort makes your brain to close its eyes and turn away, letting your heart take lead once again.

and your heart will die but it won't stop now, it knows the sudden rush of courage is because of this intimate moment and perhaps this moment won't have the same impact if it repeats itself another time so it blindly takes the chance presented to it.

"you are the source of my pain and longing . .  " you mutter, voice cracking as your hands greedily claw at his shirt to grab the fabric to ensure he won't run away, looking at him with narrowed eyes for the tears in them makes it hard to keep them open.

oh fuck, no, don't look at him like this. it's making it harder for him to sit straight, he could almost feel the blood rushing to his dick.

"but you are my cure, doll. don't be so cruel to me. it's my first time in love too. i make many mistakes -- intentional and unintentional but bare with me? please?" dazai whispers, eyes turning to crescent as he smiles in defeat.

if your heart is taking the lead in you then so is his, so cheers to the dance of your hearts which aren't afraid for the first time.

dazai is confident but he doesn't love himself so how can he freely love you?

and dazai knows you have neither love for yourself nor the confidence but you have love for him and as selfish as it may sound, he likes the way you love him, the way you devoted yourself to him for if not you, then who will love him in this big world?

children are born just fine without knowing the feeling of love, it is the love their mother shows them or the love they see between others in their growing years that makes them long for it too, to wish for it as well. dazai is no different.

he wants love. you give exactly that to him because daddy was never there to receive your overflowing love, but dazai is and he welcomes it with open arms.

"because i am immature! fucking immature and dumb and clingy as hell and --" you purposely bring a stop to your overflowing insults as you take short breaths to bury your incoming sobs in them, your hands grabbing his shirt fabric shook as you tried to bury your wrath for yourself within the chambers of your body, " -- and you are so amazing. you are basically husband material and many women would die to be with you and many are better then me, more experienced then me and what do i have to give to you? i don't even know how to love properly and i am insecure even though you give me no reason to be and i just ruin everything with how sensitive i am and i . . . i just don't want you to leave me, thinking of me as immature and not someone you would want to be with because you deserve so so much better." at the end of your confession, you are left breathing heavily before you squint your teary eyes to stop the air from hitting and making them burn.

your head falls forwards on his shoulder with the last sentence leaving your lips after which followed the soft and small sobs, hands wrapping around his waist as you let the anger be converted into sadness for you would rather cry to dazai then be angry at him.

"stupid doll," dazai sighed and this made you sob harder before he tapped your hip, "come here, come on my lap." he leaned his head down to whisper in your ears but sighed adoringly when you shook your head, trying to nuzzle your head even more against his chest, he only patted your back as the other grabbed the back of your head to keep you pressed against his chest.

"aww glad to know you are still my cute crybaby because with the way you were angry, i thought for a second that i was actually done this time. preety doll, you actually made me sweat a bit." dazai pretends to sigh in relief but chuckles when you weakly lift your hand to smack his chest, holding your wrist as he raises your hand to his lip to kiss the back of your palm.

"when someone is crying mister, you ought to not crack lame jokes and stuff --" your words are once left hanging on your lips when dazai lightly smacks your hip, tsking as well though there is a grin on his face.

"it's daddy for you, not mister."

"i don't go around calling random men daddy." you lean back as you wipe your tears away, chuckling in embarrassment due to crying in a bar of all places but when you look up at dazai, you see him pulling a small box out of his pocket which distracted you or else you would've finally gotten the satisfaction of seeing dazai poke his inner cheek with his tongue at your words. your teasing along with the sexual frustration he feels is just making him go insane at this point, that is, if he won't take care of it soon.

two weeks without you were a challenge and you better be glad that dazai had enough self control to not pounce at you at the very moment he saw you sitting all alone at the corner of the bar, strap of your dress slightly pulled down as you weren't aware of it to pull it upwards.

a navy blue velvety box which he opens to reveal a pink diamond pendent with a white diamond outline, he picks the chain with his index finger before he stands up, takes a step closer to you and without speaking anything, he places and secures the diamond around your neck, where it's rightful place is.

though the gentle facade only lasted so long before dazai hooked his index around the very same necklace to pull you forwards in a jerking motion, his other hand placed on your thigh as he caressed your revealed skin, leaning his body down to whisper in your ears,

"my doll must've drank too much to forget me it seems. not to worry, i'll remind you who i am." raising one hand to let one of his guards know to come here and pay for your drinks, dazai's hand trailed lower till it rested on your elbow and he began to pull you with him towards the area of the bar reserved only for those of higher society who wish to be far from those prying and lingering eyes of others. for isn't the club meant to be an escape for everyone despite their status.

you look at dazai's back covered with his black blazer and you can't help but imagine taking it off him followed by his shirt and then his belt before finally moving to his pants.

"eye-fucking me may bring you pleasure but you can wait a few minutes for the real deal, right doll? or are you that horny that you wish i would take you right here, right now?"  well if you weren't aroused before, you surely are now. the purr in his voice between his words were directed to make you feel all hot and bothered combined with that playful sing like tone of his, dazai knows what to do and when to do to get you all worked up.

like a bee being lured towards nectar, you couldn't help but silently follow dazai as he nodded at the bouncer before you two were allowed inside the vip section where scandals, affairs and controversies happen in every nook and corner but stays between the four walls of the separated section from the rest of the club building.

dazai takes off his blazer to reveal his white shirt before he looks back at you and throws his blazer around your shoulder, his hand trailed down to now hold your hand before he kissed the flat of your palm again and began to pull you with him.

is that the famous a-list actor getting a lap dance on the very far right? you think so but aren't sure as you weren't able to get a good look at his face, not that your mind would allow you to look around and get a glimpse into the lives of those who portray themselves as someone else on television with the way dazai's thumb is rubbing your knuckles.

"you aren't overbearingly clingy or i would've told you so, didn't i tell you i like when you act freely like a kid around me? it doesn't matter if you act like a kid or --" dazai leads you towards the very corners before he sits on one of the two maroon velvety u-shaped sofa. " -- immature because as i said, i enjoy knowing you feel comfortable enough around me to be this fragile. i like knowing this fragile doll is mine to take care of. and over sensitive? rubbish."

dazai scoffs at the claim before he tapped your butt and then his thigh, leaning back on the sofa while spreading his legs apart as he smirks and when he does smirk, you feel a shiver of lust travel down your spine.

dazai tilted his head as he watches you take the blazer off your shoulders before you move to sit and straddle his lap, he places the blazer around your waist area and bottom as he tied the sleeves around your waist before he pushed the fabric of your dress up.

" -- good girl. you aren't over sensitive. even if you were, it would have been fine. i am not a coward to not handle my girl's emotions, yeah?" lithe fingers grazed your jaw before they grabbed your chin and tucked it upwards as if to make an emphasis of his words, dazai may be smiling softly but the way his other hand was between your thighs as his knuckles grazed your clit made it clear what is going on in his mind.

"and who even told you that i will leave you for someone else? if that were the case --" dazai grabbed your hips with both of his hands and began to move you back and forth on his crotch, relishing in the hiss you released, "-- wouldn't i have already done it? i don't like wasting my time on stuff i do not deem important."

dazai looked up to make sure you are listening to every word leaving his lips and when he saw you biting your lip due to the friction he is causing, he tsked before lightly smacking your breasts,

"use your ears and hear what i am saying, hm? are you listening to me, baby doll?" dazai raised his eyebrow at you.

"yeah daddy," you could only mutter, looking down to make sure your slick hadn't tainted his pant but when dazai saw you doing so, he humped upwards to tease you.

the response from you which was a small whine was seen in a green light as dazai hummed, leaning his head down to have his lips on your collarbone, a shiver ran down your arm when dazai parted his lips to let his tongue tease your skin, "you can't go around acting as if you aren't worthy of my love. that's disrespectful to me doll, you get me?" dazai kissed your collarbone, slowly moving upwards towards your throat as you could only hum out in response.

"just like it's my first time in love, so is your's," he leaned in to peck your lips quickly.

your breath hitched when dazai kissed your throat before moving upwards again. is it getting hot in here? or is this the carnal urge to remove your clothes and bend on dazai's lap?

"so don't go around thinking you don't know how to love and stuff because i don't as well but in the same way, we really don't know how to really live too but we still try, making many mistakes and most live life imperfectly --" dazai kissed your chin, then began to trail kisses down your jaw before your hands trailed down to trace the growing bulge in his pants and he hissed, grabbing your palm and raising it towards his lips to plant a kiss on it.

"-- but the thing that makes them have pride in that imperfect life of their's is the fact that it's exclusively and uniquely their own. in the same way, our love may not be ideal, it may not even be right but it's ours, reserved and understood by only the both of us so --" dazai let's go of your hand but you were done with being sad and miserable alone, so your hand reaching out to cup his cheek also meant reaching out for dazai to take you, to protect and take care of you like he always does.

"-- don't be scared of making mistakes, our love is ours to live and not a romance story to be told to generations to come." dazai smiled, looking up at you as he placed his hand on top of your's and tilted his head on your hand. "lift yourself a bit for me, preety."

the low murmuring made your pussy clutch around nothing in particular, you placed your hands on his shoulder before lifting yourself enough to have dazai slip his hand under to fiddle with his belt, hooded eyes watched the man's fingers unbuckle his belt, pull the zipper down after which he lifted his hips upwards as well to be able to remove his cock from the very last confinement.

"sit," dazai had mumbled only after spitting on his dick a few times, index finger raised to push your panties to the side to reveal your glistening cunt clutching around nothing.

he smiled. then flicked your bud to see you widen your eyes in surprise, he could drown in these reactions.

you lowered yourself on his dick as his finger kept your panty pushed to the side, you closed your eyes to embrace yourself for the incoming pain of him pushing himself inside you but you really underestimated your own arousal for the moment you sank down, dazai's dick entered your cunt without much problem though he did have to guide his dick inside you as you were taking too long for his liking so he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you down.

now you were thankful for the loud music blasting in the club or else your little yelp would've definitely made some heads to turn your way.

"daddy be gentle --"

"sorry sweetie," dazai cooed, as he cuts you off as he heard your whimper, caressing your cheek with his knuckles, chuckling as he lets you get adjusted to him, "but i need to prove to you that no one else's pussy could drive me so mad, yeah? daddy gotta let his sweet doll know just how much he loves her and her pussy and how great you make me feel when you cum on me, hm?" he cooed yet again.

you bite your lip, nodding. and you had to bite your lip again in shyness when you felt your walls clenching around his dick making him hiss as he closed his eyes.

dazai thrusted upwards once to let you know to begin moving, you placed your hands on his shoulder as his came around to wrap around your waist while the other pulled you forwards by pulling on the pendent around your neck, you gripped his shoulders to stabilize yourself as you begin to move your hips to and fro.

a small moan left your lips, the warm dick inside your walls reached spots that weren't touched for the past two weeks and you soon found yourself bending to this pleasure.

you raised yourself up a bit to have his dick sliding out halfway before you sat back down again, a choked whimper left your lips and you repeated the action again while dazai's hand made sure to hold his blazer against your waist to make sure no one else sees what is supposed to be only his.

choked whimpers and broken moans had found path to escape through the gaps between your pursed together lips and none went to deaf ears for dazai tried to savour the sound of every single one, he closed his eyes and tilted his head back against the wall as he closed his eyes to make the moment just more intimate for him. to not be able to see anything but only hear your voice and feel you bouncing up and down on his dick drives dazai towards the edge so when you saw this, you couldn't stop yourself from raising your hand and gently placing it over his eyes to cover them.

"oh shit," he groaned lowly, squeezing your sides in a comforting manner as you continued to bounce up and down without as much as batting an eye at anyone who could accidently glance your way and see you two, "and you really think i would go to someone else. you've never been more wrong, my doll."

dazai lazily smirked, letting you go at your own pace as your fast and short breaths were all he could hear along with the occasional moans which despite your resistance, broke free and escaped, being a treat to dazai.

he grabbed your hand and pulled it down towards his lips to kiss it once before letting your hand fall on his shoulder, gripping it to stabilize yourself as you bounced.

"baby doll, is this the best you could go? i am pretty sure you could do better, right?" he would lazily open one eye to tell, grinning as you nodded and almost stumbled over your words as you tried to formulate a reply,

"should i go faster daddy?" were you really the one who was crying a few minutes ago? dazai wouldn't have believed so if it weren't for the evidence on your face -- the eyeliner and mascara running down and that including the way you are parting your lips as you spread your legs a bit has dazai nearly throbbing.

he leaned forwards to litter kitty licks and small kisses on your neck and collarbone before he began to suck on whatever portion of skin his lips grazed.

a whimper left your lips as you tilted your head back to give him more access and freedom to paint your skin with his marks, dazai had enough of letting you take the lead.

"my doll can't even fuck herself on me. guess i gotta do that myself." he hummed and teased before dazai opened his eyes and sat straight, grabbing the back of your thigh and pulling you even more towards him and you were nearly dying in anticipation of his first thrust because no one does it like him or well, no one could do you like he could.

but he doesn't.

instead dazai sighed as he stayed inside you, leaning his head down to hide it in the crook of your neck while his hand played with the diamond on your pendent. he kissed your neck, then licked it once before sinking his teeth lightly onto your skin and didn't react when you gasped out softly.

dazai didn't move till he was sure his teeth left a mark on the side of your neck, he sat straight after that and reached into his pant pocket to pull out something but what he pulled out was a mystery to you as dazai tugged on your pendent to pull you closer and immediately slammed his lip on yours.

he didn't kiss you. he immediately sucked your bottom lip before biting it and as you closed your eyes momentarily due to his suddenness, dazai's hand extended upwards to place something in the middle of your clevage-- paper, but not the normal kind, it seems if you base it all on your institution.

but you haven't seen the world as much as dazai did and he knows it just as well as you do so his hand hovers above your knee which he gently taps.

it's when you open your eyes again to look down at the paper whose shape gives it away what it could be that dazai saw you smile for the first time since your last meeting and man, did it make his heart to forget its basic purpose of beating.

"you really didn't think i would let you cry on your birthday, did you?" dazai scoffed playfully, an eyebrow raised as he stared at you who was examining the two flight tickets before looking up at him, eyes wide in excitement.

"it's for greece." you whisper out but dazai only hums out in disinterest as he seemed more focused on untying the sleeves of his blazer around you before tilting his head at the clothing, you allowed him to assist you in wearing the blazer.

"indeed it is, three days after today." dazai murmured, leaning back to be in a more relaxed position as he blushes a bit.

the same man who won't even bat an eye while you are cockwarming him does find himself blushing at the sight of you wearing his blazer, only the neckline and a bit of your clevage present to tease him, diamond pendent resting on you -- it's as if you are a gift waiting for him to unwrap you.

"i . . . you'll wait till then? you can, right?" he whispered.

"you are the source of my pain and longing but you are also the medicine to heal my wounds --" you correct your claim from earlier as you tear your gaze away from the tickets and look at him instead, raising your hands to wrap around his neck as you lean onto him, the slight movement of you leaning forwards was an attempt to produce the tiniest bit of friction but dazai didn't mind, "i saw some realllllly cute stockings daddy, they had like bows on them and stuff." you told, looking up at him.

"yeah? where? will you wear it for me next time?" dazai smiles as he raises his hand to caress your cheekbone with the back of his hand, "preety doll," he cooed.

"i will," you nod.

"so the little doll finally recognized me? am i daddy again now?" dazai grinned, teasing.

"don't make fun of me daddy, you should be on your knees and begging for forgiveness for making me cry so much today." rolling your eyes didn't mean much when the smile on your face was oh so clearly visible to dazai.

"ah, my baby doll, such a bad man i am!" dazai dramatically gasped, pulling your pendent to pull you towards him as he kissed your forehead before he tilted his head to capture your lips in a messy and wet kiss and when he spoke against your lips after the kiss, his words were accompanied with the deadly combination of his fingers moving towards your thighs and settling in between them after which they stretched to find your clit before he began to rub your clit with his thumb, not minding your small moans and gasps of pleasure and rather to fuel you more, he began to trace your folds with the fingerpad of his index finger,

"won't you let daddy make it up to you? in my car? if you cum five times, i promise you'll go to greece with an entirely new wardrobe."

━━━━━━━ 💋 end.

#bsd dazai #bsd #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai x fem reader #dazai x y/n #dazai smut #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bsd fanfic #bsd fandom #bsd smut #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs fanfic #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x you

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

All I see is Red ♦️

Leon S. Kennedy x reader

A/N: holy shit, this took me so long to edit fml it's the longest thing I've written so far. I also think it's terribly paced, but I'll leave that to you. I hope you like it anyway <3

~Fi 🐝

《Warnings》: ADA SLANDER. Girl is getting wrecked in this one. Ada's a bitch. Reader is absolutely furious, Leon is supportive but a lil bit useless, description of injuries, feminine rage, RC flashbacks.

《Word count》: 6.1k

Inspired by this post of mine <3

Reader's codename is 'Loon/Loony' after the bird!

Please don't copy my work. I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

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Red. A color that held many a mystery, signifying an infinite amount of things and emotions. Every shade as different as the next. Ruby, crimson, maroon, burgundy.

Where others commonly thought of the symbol of love, a deep red rose, or perhaps the pale plush on the cheeks of newly confessed lovers and the sensuality of passionate nights, you saw different things.

Your relationship with the color red hadn't always been a complicated one, not until that fateful night. You wished you could go back where red was just that; red, a color, nothing more. Not something that had you anxious and alert.

You didn't see love, passion or deep devotion. What you saw where the horrors of human greed and pride. You saw the blood dripping from the gnarled jaws of the first infected you'd ever encountered at the gas station with Leon. You saw the red lights of broken down and abondend cop cars. You saw the red of dismembered police officers and civilians.

You saw the red of Kendo's Gun shop and the redness his daughter, Emma, held in her eyes. You saw the red of lieutenant Branagh's bloody finger prints in officer Elliot's notebook. And you couldn't get all the other shades out of your head- especially not the red of her dress, or the red dripping from his shoulder because he took a bullet for her.

It only ever haunted you, the tearing lump of flesh that once was Dr. Birkin, or the blaring red lights deep inside the NEST.

It wouldn't leave your mind. It was filled with red, overflowing with its common link to anger. The hot, excruciating fury that boiled in your veins when the facade of the woman in red broke into two, revealing what she really was.

You thought, as you watched her fall and saw the ruby shade being enveloped by unforgiving black, that you could move on.

But you never did. You never could. The betrayal and anger were still deeply rooted in your veins. But not only for what she did to you, but what she did to him. How she used and abused his kindness, loyalty, and care for her gain, pretending to care only to repay the both of you like this after you'd saved her.

But you weren't alone, fighting to stay afloat in the red sea that was trying to drown you. You changed your approach.

Instead of all the blood and anger you saw in red, you tried seeing Claire's jacket. Or the woven, red hair band Sherry wore. As well as the redness in Leon's cheeks after all the running and fighting.

You tried seeing the dark, dull shade that soaked his bandage, signifying that it was over. You were safe, he was safe, Claire and Sherry were safe. And it worked.

You saw the shiny crimson of Claire's bike, the leathery red of a matching jacket that Sherry desperately wanted, and the beautiful shade of the single rose that Leon gifted you on your first date.

You even saw the pale red reflections of the lovebites that littered your skin from time to time, courtesy of Leon.

The red of that nights horrors slipped to the back of your mind, just like the red of the Umbrella logo and the red cross that sat exactly where Raccoon City once was, standing out against the pale paper of a map.

All was well as love and passion took the reigns on the red in your mind, but if course things don't stay well forever.

And your peace was broken when you caught a faint glimpse of red from the corner of your eye.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

This place wouldn't have been your choice of a vacation destination, but lord knows the government doesn't give a shit about that.

The village was rundown, muddy, and most importantly, full of walking corpses.

Unbeknownst to you, of course.

The horrors had started ever since you and Leon stepped out of that god forsaken car, the red of blood, innocent blood, forcing its way into your mind once again.

You tightly gripped the red ammo box you'd just picked up from the ground after Leon had kicked a wooden crate into splinters.

"Hey, hey, easy! You're shins aren't made of steel." You scolded the blonde agent on your left, who only responded with a very playful eye roll while checking the mag of his gun.

"Don't you worry about my bones, Loony." He chuckled, patting your shoulder.

"Don't call me that! S'not my fault you got the cooler codename." You grumbled. "And for your information, Loons are excellent swimmers!"

"You see any water?" He shot back with a grin which earned him a huff from you.

Your gaze turned back to the pale red box in your hand, slight indents forming where your fingers were as you subconsciously squeezed it a little too hard.

The edges were worn and the colors were dull, but the bullets inside clinked together like the shuddering melody that haunted you ever since Raccoon City.

Leon noticed your dazed stare at the small container, they way your brows were scrunched together and the structure of the paper box crumbling under the hard grip of your hand.

"Hey, you okay?" He asked softly, firmly placing one of his hands on your shoulder. Your head snapped towards him, his gentle words pulling you from your trance.

"Hm? Oh, yeah, yeah, I'm fine." You smiled awkwardly, shoving the box into your pocket.

"Alright. Let's see if the locals know something." He replied firmly. The air he had about him told you he hadn't completely believed your answer and that he would keep an eye on you.

The last thing he needed was you getting in your head. He needed your full support and attention in order to pull this off.

You were about to respond when a small zip sound made you whip your head in its direction.

"Did you hear that?" You fully turned to face the way the sound came from and narrowed your eyes to see whether whatever caused that noise was in your sight.

"Hear what?" Leon asked puzzled.

"It sounded like a... a zipline or something." You glanced at Leon, who still had his brows furrowed in confusion.

"Never mind." You muttered, walking past him towards the village entrance.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The locals did know something. They knew that they definitely did not like the two of you and that there would be nothing more satisfying than watching you burn.

The haunting screams of one of the Spanish Police officers echoed off the broken and shitty houses as he went up in flames.

"Jesus Christ.." Leon breathed out, reaching for his gun.

"This is not gonna be pretty." You mumbled, aiming for one of the villagers, who had noticed you by now and were storming in your direction, and pulled the trigger.

The bullet hit him right between the eyes with a splat sound and your eyes widened when he only held his head before continuing his way, lit torch in hand.

"What the fuck..."

Leon looked just as shocked as you, but didn't hesitate to feed the fucker four bullets to his forehead until he finally toppled over.

"Something's not right." You stated quietly, a crease between your eyebrows.

"We'll talk later." He said firmly, aiming his weapon again. Giving him a sharp nod, you moved in and took out any local that blocked your way.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You had underestimated the number of people that lived here. You were completely surrounded, standing in the Plaza of the village, careful not to slip on the muddy ground. Leon's back was firmly pressed against yours as you tried your hardest to fight off the horde.

The once quiet town was now filled with the piercing sounds of fired shots, the unholy screams and screeches from the townspeople and the heavy thud of bodies falling into puddles.

Your elbows were locked as you mercilessly took down local after local, only stopping to quickly reload your pistol. While reloading, you noticed the smallest flash of bright red flitting over the terracotta roof tops.

You froze and, stupidly, lowered your guard as your eyes were frantically searching for whatever that was. The fact that it was red made your blood solidify in your veins and your breath to get caught in your throat. It was as if time around you slowed down, the images of that night seeping into every crevice of your mind. The blood, Leon's blood, the lights, Kendo, and his daughter, Dr. Birkin and her. It all hit you again like a truck that was carelessly speeding down the road.

But you had no time to get lost in those horrific images swirling in your head or to slip into a panic attack because you were tackled onto the dirty ground, wrinkled hands wrapping around your throat, squeezing tight.

You were struggling for air, desperately clawing at the discolored arms that quite literally held your life in their hands. An old woman had jumped on top of you, screaming phrases you couldn't understand in your face as her spittle landed on your cheeks.

Her face was sunken in, more than it should at her age, and the veins around her eyes seemed almost black. And in her eyes there was only rage, a burning fire just like the one they'd lit before.

You were thrashing your legs, anything to get her off and her hands away from your neck. You could feel yourself getting lightheaded, your heart pouding in your ears. Leon came to your rescue quickly, harshly ripping the woman away from you and shooting her in the head twice with no hesitation.

"Loony, are you alright?" Leon asked firmly, keeping the few remaining residents at bay.

"Yeah, I... don't worry about me.." You heaved, soothing the red mark on your neck. You were coughing and panting, trying to steady yourself. Leon had given you a very sharp look that said I'll take care of this. and you weren't about to argue with him. There was no point in wasting precious ammo with how shaky and unreliable your hands were at the moment.

You dragged yourself behind a small fence and took deep breaths, pressing the heel of your palm into your temple.

Suddenly, the loud sound of the church bell bounced off the buildings and everything went eerily quiet. The once furious and aggressive villagers now slowly made their way to the church, mumbling soft illegible words and phrases.

They payed no mind to Leon as they brushed past him like nothing happened and he didn't exist. The door fell shut with a heavy sound after all the remaining people had entered. Leon turned in confusion.

"Where's everyone going? Bingo?" He huffed, his voice being the only thing heard, besides the soft crackling of the fire at the stake, and the quiet rustle of leaves as a soft breeze passed through them.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

"What the hell happened back there?" It was clear Leon wanted an answer for your little freeze up. He knew you, and you would never let someone, or rather something, get that close to you.

"I... just got distracted." You mumbled, keeping your eyes on the sweet cow you were currently petting. Leon had gone looking for more supplies in the empty houses and had spoken to Hunnigan about Baby Eagle's whereabouts while you stumbled upon the gentle creature chewing on some grass in one of the open stables.

You needed to get your head back on right, and scratching the cattle helped clear the fog over your mind. It mooed softly and licked at your hand and you could feel the roughness of its pink tongue against your palm. Leon sighed and tipped his head forward.

"We can't afford distractions, Loony. You know that."

"I know. I just... have a really bad feeling about this. It's like... we're being watched. And I saw something red moving across the rooftops and I.. got inside my head. It won't happen again." You kept your voice small and quiet, looking down to hide the faint spark of shame in your eyes.

You wouldn't fuck this up. You couldn't fuck this up. You needed to pull yourself together and get back to the task at hand.

"Good." Leon said softly, placing his hand on your shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

He wished he could do more. He wished he could take you into his arms and kiss your forehead. He knew how odd and complicated your thoughts on the color red were. You'd told him all about it, and he held you through it all, as the two of you relived that nights events in your own minds.

But you'd set a strict rule. Absolutely no display of affection during work. The risk of the enemy finding out was too high, and they would surely use that newfound information to their advantage.

It wasn't easy being in a relationship and then working together like this, but you made it work. You made it work purely because you worked. You matched Leon perfectly, and he matched you.

You were a dream team to the government, which is why they kept you close. And now you would use your skills as a team and save Ashley.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Ending up in this Castle had not been part of your plan. It was an impressive building, no doubt, but the light marble walls and beautiful greenery that was littered with colorful little

blooms painted a wrong picture of its owner. The... host, shall we call him, hadn't given you one second to breathe. You were running and fighting, and running and fighting, and occasionally taking a hit or two to shield Ashley from as much harm as you could. It was all so... familiar. It felt like just how you tried to shield and protect Sherry from Chief Irons.

It made your head cloudy with bad memories. The constant separation from Ashley reminded you of how you somehow always caught up in the middle. You'd started out in the Police station with Leon after the crash but ended up in the orphanage with Claire, trying to rescue Sherry.

Well, that's not quite true, actually. Claire needed your help, so you left Leon... with her.

She seemed trustworthy enough with those big three letters plastered next to her name. What a fucking mistake that was.

There hasn't been a single day where you don't regret your decision. You felt so betrayed, and you still do. You were used just as much as Leon, putting your trust into someone who would've left you to die.

The memories rippled in Leon's blood, staring you right in the face, as you took a look at his injured hand. Whatever was inside of you had gotten inside of Ashley's mind, causing her to attack Leon with a knife. It sliced open his palm as he tried to stop the swing.

You were currently using some first aid spray on the wound before wrapping it on a piece of cloth you'd cut off from the many curtains around the Castle. Leon, as always, insisted he was fine and you needn't fret over him, but you were truly fucked if he couldn't hold his guns correctly.

You shut him down and began lecturing him on how stupid it was. And he listened, like he always did, staring at you with a smile on his face. He glanced past you, eyes falling on the gate that had separated Ashley from the both of you, and his smile was replaced with a small frown.

Ashley looked so terrified, and it broke your heart. She didn't deserve any of this, being ripped from her life and then having to fight for it all the same. You had to find her before Ramon did.

"Can you fit that under your glove?" You asked softly, tying a tight knot on the makeshift bandage around Leon's hand.

"Uh, yeah. Should work." Leon mumbled, squeezing his hand in a fist multiple times to test the flexibility of the wrap before putting his glove back on.

"Alright," he groaned as he got up from the edge of the stoke fountain he'd been sitting on,

"Let's get our Baby Eagle back." He held out his good hand to you, which you took, and he pulled you off the ground.

"Are you sure your hand's okay?" You questioned with a crease of concern between your brows when you saw him wince as he grabbed his gun. He only smiled at you softly and gently brushed his calloused thumb over your cheekbone.

"I'm okay. I promise."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The courtyard was really quite beautiful. The high and dense walls of green gave it a somewhat mysterious and mystical feel. There were plenty of old and mossy stone statues littered around the place, with a few fountains here and there. If it hadn't been under these circumstances, you might've called your stay here enjoyable.

It didn't matter now as you slipped from the literal maze that was the courtyard, into an open stone hallway right by its side. The gate was locked, so your only chance at finding Baby Eagle was to go around, which meant through the dark walls of the Castle. You weren't thrilled, but it was your only option.

There were two doors in the hallway; one to your right, and one straight ahead, at the end of the corridor.

"You go right, I'll take the one straight." Leon said, motioning to the wooden door in front of him.

"Okay." You nodded, checking the mag of your gun. There was no telling what else would hide in the Castle. Leon reached out to the door handle, but you interrupted him, making him stop in his tracks.

"Leon?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful. I saw some snakes around here."

He gave you a firm nod and proceeded, as did you, carefully entering the room.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Leon slowly pushed the door open, having his gun at the ready if anything decided to jump him. When he couldn't detect any immediate threats, he stepped inside fully and looked around.

The room was lit up in a warm hue from the various candles burning, their wax dripping down the metal candle holders.

There were many wooden cabinets pushed against the walls, filled with all sorts of shiny junk. An open window at the back if the room caught his eye, and he carefully moved closer as the hinges creaked.

"You can stop right there, Leon." A voice called from behind him, accompanied by the cocking of a gun and the clacking sound of high heels against the old wooden floors.

"Wouldn't make me use this, would you?" He'd know that voice anywhere. It haunted his dreams, whispering sweet lies and betrayals in his ear, only to fade away when it's owner fell to their death.

He clenched his jaw and chuckled bitterly, letting his gun fall to the floor with a thud.

"Well, after six years, that is one hell of a greeting... Ada."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The room was uneventful. It was mostly bare, only a big table in the middle filling the space, littered with scrap pieces of paper and metal parts.

There were no windows, only a couple of candles to light your path. You searched around nonetheless, and found a small pot with a green herb hidden in the corner.

You hummed at your find and plucked the stems, storing them in your pockets so you could grind up the leaves later and combine them with a rare yellow herb Leon had found in the courtyard.

You rummaged through the papers on the table, just in case, but were pulled from your task when you picked up muffled voices coming from Leon's direction. Alarm bells went off in your head, alongside utter confusion.

Who could he be talking to? You doubted the.. lovely.. gentlemen who had welcomed you had a knack for talking. It wasn't Ramón. It didn't sound nearly as pitchy and annoying for it to be him. There was no way it was Ashley..

what was going on? With furrowed brows and immense caution, you quickly walked down the stone hallway to the room Leon had chosen to investigate, finding its door ajar.

Your heart stopped when you heard what sounded like a gun hitting the floor. Next, there were sounds of struggle and soft grunts, same with a noise like a blade slicing through the air.

It felt like your feet were rooted in the ground, refusing to move. You had to pull yourself together. Leon was in potential danger.

You kicked open the door so hard that it smashed into the sturdy stone walls with a loud thud. When your eyes landed on the sight before you, your hands fell limp at your sides, your mouth slightly agape.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Leon had his knife pressed against Ada's throat and she slightly shifted her head to look over her shoulder, straight at you. She made an amused sound before turning back to face Leon.

"You brought your little friend, too, I see." She said with a smirk. Her voice was so smooth, too smooth. All you wanted to do was put a scratch in it. Leon stared at you, and you stared at him, with the occasional glance to the woman who ruined your life.

You stepped further into the room, keeping your eyes on her while letting the heavy door fall into its lock.

The second you finally met her eye, every single emotion you felt that night, and all the six years after, came bubbling up all at once, almost choking you. Your eyes were burning, your jaw was clenched and your breathing became irregular. You circled around her until you stood right next to Leon.

"Why the fuck are you not dead?" The bite and disbelief in your voice was evident, you balled your hands into fists to keep the fury and sadness at bay.

"Ooooh, Ouch." Ada feigned hurt and smirked back at you. God, how badly you wanted to slap that stupid smirk off her face.

You took a breather, trying to sort the words in your head. You didn't know what you wanted to say first. Everything wanted to come out at once. All the pain, and the anger and the fear. All the deep hatred you held in your heart for her. You looked up at the ceiling and shook your head with a small scoff.

"I can't believe this... for six goddamn years I've been trying to move on and get over what happened, get over what you did. And just as I was starting to get a grip, you show up. Why? You couldn't just do your shitty job without bothering us? You just can't go quietly, can you, Ada?"

"What, you're still not over that?" She shifted on her feet and almost rolled her eyes. There was no remorse in her voice, no regret, nothing. Just annoyance for your inability to be over it.

"You're awfully confident for someone with a knife at her throat." Leon said harshly, earning him a glare from Ada.

"You... are you serious? You used me! You used Leon, preyed on our fear only to... to fuck everything up! Do you even have an ounce of an idea of what you did?" Your throat started closing up as the emotions ran amok in your chest, leaving you with a shaky voice and a burning in eyes.

"We were fighting for our lives, thinking we were the only survivors and then you came along with your fucking FBI badge and gave us hope. Do you even know how-" she cut you off with an amused scoff that turned into a scowl.

"Oh, please. I didn't give you hope. You gave yourself hope." Your face dropped slightly, which only lasted a second before an expression of unimaginable rage took over your features.

"You fucking-" Leon stopped you from surging at her with a firm hand on your shoulder, sheathing his knife, "he took a bullet for you! I twisted and contorted three times over for you because we thought you wanted to help! We- We had faith in you, and we trusted you." You had to hold back a sob as you recalled the painful memories of betrayal that still sat deep in the marrow of your bones.

The first few tears sprung from your lashline, leaving streaks of salt on your cheeks. You were so, so incredibly angry and hurt. Your nostrils flared as you exhaled sharply, cleching your fists.

"But now I see that I should've shot you between the eyes first chance I got." You said lowly, staring daggers at Ada.

"A feisty one, huh?" She smirked bitterly, "Keep your bitch under control, Leon."

"Say that again, Ada, and I swear to god-" Leon hissed as he pushed past you, towering over her in an attempt to intimidate her. She laughed, she fucking laughed, and tilted her head at him.

"What are you gonna do? You're too soft for your own good." She spat, the venom in her tone could burn through your flesh like acid. Something inside you snapped.

The thin, tethered line of patience that you'd been holding on ever since you stepped foot inside this room crumbled under the weight of your emotions.

You quickly pulled Leon's combat knife from its sheath and pressed it against Ada's neck, successfully backing her up into a corner until she hit the stone wall with a grunt.

"I would choose my next words very carefully. I'm not above slitting your throat and watching all the lies spill out." You warned lowly, your eyes darkening. You saw a flash of something in her eyes. You couldn't decipher it. She was impossible to read. Everything about her was fake.

She could get on her knees and beg for your forgiveness and you'd believe her. That's how dangerous she was, how unpredictable.

"That was you in the village, wasn't it? The red I saw flashing on the rooftops? The weird sound I heard? That was all fucking you, wasn't it?" You seethed, pressing the blade to her neck, almost slicing through the knit fabric of her dress.

"You are a pest of a human being, Ada." You continued angrily, letting everything spill out.

"We were willing to die for the cause, for you, just so you and that stupid sample could get out and prevent this from ever happening again. The fact that that means nothing to you shows how truly rotten you are. You're not a good person, Ada, and you never will be." You noticed a shift in her demeanor when you harshly spat the last sentence.

The corner of your mouth twitched upwards. You'd hit her where it hurt, apparently. A gentle hand on your shoulder made the harsh crease between your eyebrows soften.

"Loony, we have to get Ashley. We can't let Ramón get her." Leon said quietly, trying to tug you away from Ada by your arm.

With a sharp jerk of your shoulder, you shook him off of you, nicking her jaw with the edge of the knife in the process. Ada breathed heavily as she tried to keep the knife away from her neck. She looked past you, directly at Leon.

"Leave the girl. She's lost no matter what."

At the mention of Ashley and without thinking, you struck her across the face. She gasped in surprise, both at the impact and that you had the guts to slap her.

"You don't fucking get to decide who's lost!" You bellowed, trying to keep your hands steady with all the rage that was coursing through your veins.

"You better thank whatever God you believe in, because that's the only one standing between your neck and my knife." You threatened with a harsh stare that made Ada swallow.

"Loony-"

"If I catch you near Ashley you're dead meat, Wong." You said lowly before stepping away from her and pressing the knife back in Leon's hand.

With a last angry look you walked towards the door. You pulled it open, the hinges groaning under its weight. You looked back over your shoulder.

"Just know this... no amount of good deeds will ever undo what you've done. You're the one that's lost. Not Ashley."

You didn't wait for a reaction, or for Leon, you just needed to get away from her.

You headed towards the courtyard again and sat down near a fountain, watching the small stream of water drip from the stone vase.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

It was over. This absolute nightmare of a mission was over. You were exhausted and covered in... well, maybe you didn't want to know. You'd removed your Las Plagas parasite, and Saddler met his demise at the hands of Leon.

You could get Ashley back home and then barricade yourself in your shared apartment with Leon, waiting for the next shitty mission to come along.

It was an endless cycle of exhaustion and pain, but you were lying if you said it wasn't addictive.

You fell to your knees with heavy breaths, letting everything fall off your shoulders. You were so relieved you could cry. Your neck and shoulders hurt from tensing up, your back had been crushed into too many walls, and you'd been thrown against a barrel.

Holding your side in pain, you lifted your head up only to see Leon on the ground, reaching out for the amber. Your body sagged, the adrenaline fading away by the minute.

However, your head shot up when you heard what sounded like a metal clang of shoes. Ada came down from the sky, tucking her grapling gun back into its holster.

"Jesus christ- do you ever fucking go away?!" You yelled, more to yourself than her. She bent down and plucked the amber right from under Leon's nose. You heaved yourself up with a groan and grabbed one of the small knives you'd found along the way.

You aimed and threw it at her, you didn't care where it hit her, if it hit her at all, but if she didn't get the hint that you wanted her to fuck off now, all hope was lost.

The blade embedded itself in her thigh, making her cry out in pain and, in turn, dropping the amber.

You used all your remaining strength and threw yourself at the small glass container, grasping it tightly. Ada's eyes widened, still holding onto her injured thigh.

"W-What.. what are you doing?" She demanded through hisses and groans. Dragging yourself up with the support of one of the metal rails, you held up the amber in the light.

"Fuck you.. Fuck this stupid little stone.. Fuck whoever you're working for. I am done." You panted, throwing the amber as far as you could, watching as it disappeared into the deep, dark ocean.

"No!" Ada screamed, reaching out for the stone, "do you have any idea what you just did!?"

"I don't give a shit."

You limped over to her and bent down, meeting her at eye level. Pulling the knife from her thigh, you couldn't help but chuckle.

"This feels a little... familiar, wouldn't you say, Ada?"

You thought back to when a piece of metal had lodged itself into her leg back in the Umbrella lab. You'd found her by coincidence, lying on a pile of debris and rubble. If it hadn't been for you and Leon, she would've died in that hellhole. Not that you ever received a thank you.

"Go to hell." She spat in your face, holding her bleeding thigh.

"I'm already in hell." You mumbled bitterly, sinking down next to Leon, who had an expression on his face that you could only describe as awe. With a scowl on her face, she heaved herself up and limped towards the helicopter that had flown up.

Ada managed to get into the heli, with a little trouble, and smirked back at you.

"I'd offer you a ride, but... I think I'd rather watch you be blown to bits and pieces."

"If I ever see you again, I'll be your worst nightmare." You snapped at her, praying she'd just fuck off already.

She scoffed with a frown and signaled the pilot to take off.

"Have fun being mince meat."

You sighed and slacked against Leon once she was gone. Your head fell against his shoulder and you closed your eyes.

"We need to get out of here, the whole Island's gonna blow." Leon sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

"I know, just..." Your voice was shaky, trying to suppress the tears that would ultimately spill. You took a deep breath, blinking away the salty water droplets. You needed to be strong. You needed to get Ashley out of here.

You had plenty of time to break down when you were back at home. Leon noticed your fight to keep the tears away and wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly while pressing a kiss to your temple.

"You're okay. Ashley's okay. I'm okay." He cooed, gently rocking you.

"I love you. And I would love to spend the rest of my life with you, but we can only do that if we find a ride out of here. Now." Leon said as softly as he could. He wanted to comfort you, hold you, and kiss you, but the situation was urgent.

"You know I'm always prepared." You sniffled with a small grin, holding up a pair of keys for Leon to see.

"Where the hell did you get these?" Leon asked bewildered. You got off the ground with a groan and grinned.

"She's got some pretty shitty pockets." Leon followed suit with getting up with an amused smirk playing in his lips.

"You clever little thing."

You winked and tossed him the keys. He chuckled once he caught them and noticed the little bear Keychain that was attached to the keyring.

"Cute."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You were sitting on your couch, knees tucked under your body as you watched the TV. Your gaze was unfocused, and in reality, you weren't watching the TV at all.

You were thinking about everything that happened. About all the emotions that you didn't get out, all the things you hadn't managed to say.

You were inside your head all the time. Not being able to focus on anything without slipping away into that September night or those rainy days in Spain.

Leon noticed. Of course he did. And it broke his heart to see you like this, all dull and void of joy. But he knew that this would pass. He wouldn't allow you to get lost.

Which is why he held you that little bit tighter and whispered how much he loved you just that little bit more often.

You didn't notice Leon coming into the living room, jumping slightly when he slid down next to you on the couch and slung his arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

"Look what came in the mail." He said softly, pressing a small decorative card into your hand. You looked him with furrowed brows but he gave you an encouraging nod and pressed a kiss to your temple.

There was a big, red 18 on the front, surrounded by small hearts. You turned the card over and began reading the inscription. Your eyes got brighter with every line you read, and a smile tugged on your lips.

"How sweet of her. Sherry invited us to her 18th birthday party." You smiled softly, looking at Leon. He hummed and pulled tighter against him.

"She called earlier when you were taking a nap. She's really excited to see you again, you know." He replied softly. You chuckled.

"Yeah, me too. It's been forever. God, I can't believe she's turning 18 already." You sighed.

"Time flies, huh?" Leon grinned.

"It sure does." You giggled, snuggling closer to Leon.

"Hey, is Claire still planning to take Sherry for her first ride on her bike for her birthday?" You asked.

"Hell yeah, she is. She's got her Harley all polished up for the big day." He smirked. You laughed and let your head fall back against Leon's shoulder. He pulled you into his lap, your back pressed against his chest, and started littering soft kisses down the side of your face.

"Lee! What are you doing!" You giggled, trying to get away from his wet kisses. He held you tightly, not letting you escape his grasp.

"Jus' wanna see you smile, baby." He mumbled against your skin. With a mischievous smile, you let yourself fall onto the length of the sofa, dragging Leon on top of you.

You placed a sweet kiss on his lips, brushing some of his blonde locks out of his face.

"I love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart." Leon whispered, looking at you with a smile, blushed cheeks and slightly red lips.

Maybe the color red wasn't so bad, after all.

🗡°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°❤️‍🩹°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°🗡

More of my Leon fics are here 🩷

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《Tag list》: @dmitriene @k-fallingstar @vampkennedy @valkyrurx @nayeoniiie @wandering-poetess

#bumblebeesfromvenus #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil leon #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #resident evil 4 #resident evil #re4r ada wong #resident evil x reader

[ataraxiaspainting]

Star.

Yan Kafka x F Reader.

Synopsis: Kafka is waiting for a supernova to appear.

Warnings: Yandere themes, implied future kidnapping, not SFW implications, and stalking.

Word Count: 1k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Lust for a Vampyr by I Monster

Living Dead Girl by Rob Zombie

Merry-Go-Round of Life - from ‘Howl’s Moving Castle’ by Joe Hisaishi

Stalker’s Tango by Autoheart

The Four Seasons - Winter in F Minor, RV. 296: I. Allegro non molto by Antonio Vivaldi

BLOODMONEY by Poppy

Fight of the Crows by Jhariah

Bernadette by IAMX

Smells Blood by Kensuke Ushio

Enemies to Lovers by Joshua Kyan Aalampour

“She's a Killer Queen; gunpowder, gelatin; dynamite with a laser beam; guaranteed to blow your mind (anytime).” – Queen, Killer Queen

*~*~*~*

“Hey, I like them!” You huff, grasping the bouquet of spider lilies closer to your chest, making the paper wrinkle up. At your response, Aina crosses her arms and sighs, looking at the other flower arrangements sitting on the shelves behind you.

“Those are too expensive.” Aina rebuts. She points, and you turn around to follow it, and in turn frown. 

Because of the low supply, the price of spider lily bouquets has increased to 700 credits per arrangement.

Kafka, pretending to look at the roses in the corner not facing the two of you, does not try to hide her smile and slight chuckle as you gasp at the sign’s words. “Cute…” 

Once more, you exhale with a mix of frustration and disappointment, forcefully planting your foot on the ground. Gradually, your stance transforms into that of a despondent balloon losing its air.

Utterly adorable.

“Why seven hundred? Flowers grow from the ground and they take hardly any effort to bundle up!” Aina puts her thumb and pointer finger on her temples, rubbing them like your question and exclamation just gave her the biggest headache in all of existence. She sighs.

You sigh too, grasping onto the spider lilies even harder.

“Spider lilies also represent bad luck.” She says, almost groaning. 

Neither of you know if you can be reasonable enough to let Aina be your impulse control as she always has been. “The red shade is really pretty and the tendrils are pretty too!”

“Please put them back, it is a bad financial investment.” You shake your head. “Please. [First]. [First], please. We still have to go and buy ingredients for dinner tonight. If it makes you feel better I can also help you bake dessert.”

Kafka already knows what you are going to make tonight. Pasta with bechamel sauce along with apple cake. 

“[First], at least choose a less expensive bouquet. That way we can afford everything. Plus we maybe can get something else small that is not on our grocery list.” Aina tries her best to put on a more gentle smile. “Please.”

Kafka moves to near the entrance of the food section of the store, waiting for this little trifle to be over with. She pretends to be looking at the meat aisle as that is the area closest to the flowers, ironically enough. 

“Sigh…” She purrs, imagining your hair loose and gently wrapped around her fingertips. “I wonder if you would prefer blush or velvet… maybe burgundy?” 

She imagines the way you will place your lips on hers and slowly but surely… move down.

She will do the same to you with her own.

“Maybe white.” She muses, thinking of different types of fabric to put on you. “Or perhaps black.”

Kafka wonders what you would choose if she brought you to a boutique rather than going by herself.

“Hm…” She murmurs, her mind going through many, many possibilities of the future ahead.

Then, she hears your triumphant laugh and then turns around to see you hugging Aina with the bouquet in tow. “I love you!”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Aina mutters, crossing her arms and looking away from your happy face with a blush. “Just put them in the basket. We’ve used enough time here as it is.” You kiss her cheek, and her face only gets redder. “L-Let’s just go already.”

You only hug her tighter.

“Sir, yes, sir!” You exclaim, saluting, and Aina rolls her eyes.

Kafka’s smile falters.

“Tsk. Young love, I suppose.”

Of all the future possibilities, none of them will result in full success if Aina is still in the picture.

“Juliets.”

At the sight of you kissing Aina’s cheek again, Kafka resists the urge to bite her lip.

“But with great risk… comes great reward.”

She imagines how you would look under her.

Aina eventually manages to pry you off of her. “Alright, that’s enough, you’re praising me like I just saved your life or something.”

“You did!” You pout, almost cooing and still laughing joyfully. “This bouquet is the only medicine that can ever heal me of what ails me!”

Both Kafka and Aina sigh at the same time but for entirely different reasons.

But Kafka is the one who also licks her lips afterward. “I think perhaps a chemise would suit you best.”

“Let’s go to the fruits first!” You exclaim, pulling Aina along by the hand while she holds the basket.

“Which type of apple?” Aina asks, but Kafka already knows the answer. “Be sure to not get the very expensive ones this time.”

You two go past Kafka.

She takes out her phone for a split second and clicks the button.

It has been the closest you have ever been to her while you were conscious. But she hopes that soon, you will be even closer.

Wait, no. She knows that you will.

“Cute.” She whispers, booping the picture of you’s nose.

This has already become a favorite amongst the many, many photos she has of you.

Where you go, she follows. “Cute.” Surely, eventually, when you know of her, you will know that all too well. “So cute.”

She sees you pointing to the apples with a pinkish tint. Rose apples. Quite rare, if Kafka remembers correctly.

As Aina reads the sign next to them, she immediately shakes her head. “Way too expensive.”

Due to the cost of importation/exportation as well as the rarity of this species, the value of this type of product is quite high. One apple is worth 1600 credits.

You surprisingly show agreement this time, promptly diverting your attention to the assortment of apple varieties, accompanied by a hint of nervous laughter.

You end up choosing the Honeycrisps. They are good for baking cakes, you tell Aina as Kafka eavesdrops as she always does.

She imagines you baking for her and sitting on her lap.

It was only a matter of time because regardless of who is with you, one thing about you never changes; your naivety.

“All that is left is to be patient.”

#author aya #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere kafka #honkai star rail x reader #kafka x reader #hsr kafka #kafka #yandere kafka x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere honkai star rail x reader #yandere hsr #yandere hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #kafka honkai star rail #kafka hsr

[another-lost-mc]

SATAN x gn!Reader 0.7k Words | SFW | Domestic Fluff | Suggestive -> Prompt: Bringing Home Flowers [ Obey Me! Masterlist ]

Exam week is difficult for everyone living at the House of Lamentation. Lucifer and most of his siblings spend as much time arguing about studying as they do actually studying. It's difficult to focus on your own stack of textbooks and papers when there's bickering echoing in the halls outside your room.

It's not a surprise when you study best when the house is quiet—ironically, this usually happens when Mammon and the others sneak away after dinner to go out and do something fun. Satan doesn't join them, even though you know they ask him to.

Meet me in the library after dinner, he tells you instead.

When you arrive, Satan is already seated and organizing his materials on the table in front of him. There's something out of place on the table, though—a small vase filled with violet night-blooming roses, a Devildom flower you're particularly fond of. You've never seen this particular colour of rose before, and there's rarely flowers in the library at all. You set your books down and wait for some sort of explanation. Satan smiles at you across the table, something soft and shy and a little mischievous, but then he taps his pen on your book and you get to work.

When you're done studying, Satan offers to tidy up. He starts putting books back on one of the shelves while you gather your own belongings. "Why don't you take those back to your room?" he suggests, eyes still scanning the shelves in front of him.

You know what he's talking about, and it's his only acknowledgement that the flowers were there at all. You take the vase back to your room—carefully, so it doesn't fall—and set it on your nightstand. The pleasant scent is soothing without being overwhelming. When you wake up, you touch the petals with your fingertips and smile.

It carries on that way for the rest of the week. Every night you join Satan in the library to study, and every night there's a vase of roses on the table between you. After you're done studying together, he shoos you back to your room for a good night's rest—oh, and don't forget the vase, hm?

By the time exams are finished, you have several small vases of roses scattered across your bedroom. Your room has never looked so vibrant or smelled so lovely. Each vase has its own bouquet of different coloured roses—violet, emerald, mauve, azure. You save a couple blooms of each to press for safekeeping.

You're elated the day you get your exam results back the afternoon before the weekend break. You might not have the nearly-flawless scores that Satan does, but his eyes twinkle happily when you offer him the paper so he can see your marks. You're glad you didn't disappoint him.

That evening you go back to your room after dinner and wonder what you'll do now that there's no reason to go to the library and study. You miss his company already. Satan spent so much time with you, and you feel guilty wanting to take up the first evening he's had to himself all week.

The brothers chatter excitedly about their newfound freedom (and ignore Lucifer's pointed comments that some of them barely studied at all). There's some dance at a club that Asmo wants to go to, but you tell him you're not interested. You assume Satan is going with them, though; when they rushed from the table, he excused himself too.

You eat a bit more slowly and go back to your room afterwards. You open the door with a sigh and expect to spend the next couple hours bored and alone. What you don't expect to see is a large, vibrant bouquet on your bedspread—it's filled with all the brilliant shades of roses already decorating your room, plus others you haven't seen before. Even in the Devildom, flowers of these colours aren't exactly easy to come by.

You pick up the small card attached to the bouquet. The note isn't signed, but you already know who sent them.

Congratulations. I'm so proud of you.

I'll be waiting for you in my room, if you'd like to join me.

In your haste to see him, you leave the bouquet on your bed and don't even think about putting them in a vase first.

(When you ask Satan between kisses if you should leave to put the flowers in water, he leads you to his bed and mumbles reassurances against your skin that they'll be fine until morning.)

#obey me satan #obey me x reader #omswd x reader #obey me satan x reader #satan x reader #obey me fluff #omswd fluff #satan fluff #obey me satan x mc #satan x mc #obey me satan x you #satan x you #obey me fanfic #omswd fanfic #x reader #gn!reader #jes.2k event

[miokki]

# RIBBONS OF AFFECTION

✰ synopsis: xiao’s small act of showing affection and a larger encounter.

✰ paring: xiao x gn!reincarnated!reader

✰ warnings: crying ig and past lives

✰ notes: tbh i no idea what this fic is about. it was supposed to be about ribbons but it turned into reincarnation??

XIAO is rather shy by nature—blood quickly rushes to his ears whenever he gets flustered, even by the most simple gestures. this time is no exception, as xiao is picking out flowers for you. the feeling of the flower store has always had this moist atmosphere, yet it feels best during the morning; right when the last of the dews drip off the leaf.

as he enters, the bell attached to the door rings alerting the woman behind the forest green counter, who only smiles before looking back down at the materials in front of her. the store is decorated in colours and life, with flowers on one side displayed in the window and a longer area full of blooms to his right. the blossoms being the brighter shades that human life seems to be afraid of nowadays, the shades dance in front of xiao as he continues to stare.

in truth, he has very limited experience with flowers and its symbolism; less is known about how much you like flowers. yet, xiao isn’t known to ask and only hopes that you’ll understand the vision as he admires the beauty of the them—each petal handled with such delicateness and care. yet, his mind swiftly switches to you and the way you handle him—like porcelain, like glass. that’s what your touch feels like. your skin on his is a hot fire burning on his, yet it’s gentle. in a way that makes him feel that no one has been kind to him—at least not before you.

he wishes there were more to convey his ocean like affections for you, something that meant his life long oath to you. yet, you wouldn’t agree such a thing, he thinks. he finds it strange humans, your kind, can be the same yet completely different. he’s seen humans that want the world, but seem to only want to love him and live knowing your boyfriend loves you back.

“excuse me?” he asks quite meekly to the florist standing by the counter.

the florist gaze meets his, “mm, how can i help?” her smile glows as she disregards the floral foam and roses in front of her.

“what flowers would you recommend, for my partner?” he replies.

her smile widens, and xiao tenses as she moves from behind the counter and towards him. however, he soon relaxes, his shoulders now sitting in a comfortable position as she speaks purely of her craft. xiao watches as she points to all different shades, some of of white, some of red. yet, it still leaves him feeling clueless and embarrassed. it isn’t long before, the florist is stumped. simply unsure of what other flowers could the man want.

“i’m sorry for troubling you,” xiao says, sounding incredibly apologetic.

“nono, you’re fine. it’s not everyday someone shows up with a challenge.” the florist panics as her hand waved in the morning air before she turns back to grab a book and pencil. “tulips.. no, maybe something else.” she turns the page. “we’ve gone over liles… ahah, what about some chrysanthemums?” she turns her head to xiao and xiao tilts his.

“those white ones over there,” she directs, pencil hanging out of her mouth as her finger lifts up to point the white flowers sitting on the middle shelf. yet before xiao can get a closer look, the light wood from her lips drops and her hands start to shake from her joy. “oh my! i have some leftover carnations in the back. give me a second, i have a really cute idea.” then she starts to run off.

it’s not long after that she comes back out of the storeroom with a bunch of white chrysanthemums, pink carnations and a hand full of baby breath, along with rolls of paper and ribbon all wrapped in her arms. a smile spread across her tan skin, and her rosy cheeks bright and clear in the sun as the materials land on the wooden surface.

it isn’t long before the range of flowers transforms into bouquet, lands in xiao’s callused palms and is paid for in full. however, the bunch of petals doesn’t leave the store without a series of thank you’s, smiles and goodbye’s before xiao exits. the bell ringing behind him as he walks along the streets of liyue. internally smiling to himself as he travels back home.

“xiao?” your voice rings in his ears.

you grip onto the tote bag’s handle resting on your right shoulder as you lift off the heels of your shoes. a shocked look splattered on your boyfriend’s features as you speed toward him, the stone under your feet scratching against the soles of your shoes. fresh morning air spreads across your face while you loose the distance between the two of you.

“hun, i’ve been wondering where you’ve been all morning. i was worried,” you say to his face before looking down at his left hand. “oh, are those mums?” you point at the white flowers.

“chrysanthemums? yes, do you not like them?” your lover’s eyes displays a thousand words, years of worry in them, as he stumbles over the word ‘chrysanthemums’. it’s endearing.

you can’t help but panic all the same, “nono, i love them, their beautiful. but how come your look disappointed?” you question, staring at the somber look in his golden eyes.

“i wanted to surprise you. i hadn’t anticipated that you would go out to find me.” the discontent takes a spotlight in the pools of gold and stars.

oh. perhaps you should just pretend to be blind and walk—

“i mean you still can, i’ll just pretend i never saw you this morning and—“ you begin to walk back in the direction you came from yet don’t make it far. you barely get two feet away before your wrist is used to tug you back to him.

he pushes the flowers towards you, “i want you to have them now, even if it didn’t go to plan. i should of known, i’m always meant to find you in every lifetime.”

you take a step forward as you hear a break in xiao’s voice, your lips closing in on the side of his porcelain face. you place a gentle smiled kiss on his skin before taking the bouquet from his grasp. you stop. you stare and admire it for its beauty. yet your eyes catch onto the pink ribbon loosely wrapped and tied into a pretty bow around the pieces of paper and parchment that hold the stems. it only takes a moment and a half for your fingertips to caress the thin, long line of closely woven fabric and to tug it undone. a long line now in your hold along with the bouquet.

“here, give me your hand.” you gesture towards his left as you lift your right towards his.

your boyfriend holds up his pinky as you lift your own, carefully placing the bouquet in between your arm and you side. xiao watches intently as you wrap the ribbon around his finger twice and tie it off with a knot before doing the same to your own pink before tying it off with a bow. the sun shines in your eyes as the ribbon between creates a curve.

“here, i know we can’t see it normally but it isn’t just you that finds me, i chase after you too. i found you here after you disappeared this morning. and in every life time this ribbon will lead us both to each other, in all my life times. you’re not alone xiao, i’m here now at the very least.” you reassure, combing back his green toned hair out of his face.

he can’t help but laugh. he smiles. xiao smiles so brightly that you can watch the moment his eyes start to shine with tears. yet the moment the tears starts to roll, you pull him straight into your embrace, rubbing his back and whispering your affections for him.

do not copy or repost any of my works.

@ miokki 2024

#genshin fanfic #genshin fluff #genshin impact #genshin x reader #miokki #xiao fluff #genshin x gn reader #genshin xiao #xiao x reader #genshin xiao x reader #xiao fanfic #genshin imagines #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact xiao

[genericpuff]

Why is the art so unappealing in lore Olympus now Persephone looks like a highlighter and maybe it’s just me but the proportions like the fingers in arms are soul over the place I don’t think they used to be this bad. Am I just looking at it with nostalgia or am I crazy ?

Honestly, nostalgia does play a huge part in it, even to this day there are times I look back on old S1 panels and go-

Actually here's a great example that literally just happened yesterday in the ULO Discord that nearly had me on the floor LOL This is from Episode 70:

Like I didn't even believe that that was real until I was told what episode it was from and I was just. Astounded and flabbergasted. The over-shading of the blanket that just makes it look like a really bad edit. Insane.

And yeah, there are a lot of old panels that hit different now that the rose-colored glasses have been removed, crushed, and thrown into the trash compactor.

I think that's why it makes it all the more amusing when people come into my inbox and ask me "wait, why did you like LO to begin with?? It's always been ugly as shit, I think you're just romanticizing it" because like... there's something to be said about art and subjectivity, even if something is ugly to one person doesn't mean it isn't beautiful to someone else. It's why I try not to be too mean towards the fans of this comic for still enjoying it, because while I definitely have strong opinions about how "LO has gotten worse" and what kind of following Rachel has cultivated (cough cough), there are also just as equally valid arguments that LO has never begin good to begin with that I can't necessarily disagree with now that I'm looking back on it with a more critical eye.

That said, there's tons of media that I enjoy that is objectively awful. Like y'all, you don't need to take my opinions about a dumb pink x blue fantasy romance comic seriously, I like Starfox Adventures-

Like yeah it's a badly made rushed piece of shit that was developed right on the ass end of Rare's glory days and was really an original IP (Dinosaur Planet) that got Frankenstein'd into a Starfox game so it could "sell better" for Nintendo, but I don't give a fuck, I love Starfox Adventures and some day I wanna be in the top 10 speedrunner leaderboards for it, which I know doesn't mean much because no one is speedrunning Starfox, but I do and no one can take that away from me dammit-

Anyways. Lore Olympus has, in many regards, always had "bad art". But "bad art" can and should still be enjoyed by those who find joy in it.

And in LO's case, the world it existed in when it launched was a lot smaller than it is now - more specifically, the world of Webtoons. We can look back and see how 'bad' LO looks and reads now because there are genuinely way better comics surrounding it. It was unique and refreshing and experimental back then... now it's just "that stupid blue and pink comic for horny teenagers".

In most cases I would consider that "cringing in hindsight" feeling a good thing because normally it means something has grown and that it seeming "bad" in hindsight would mean that it's outgrown itself and moved onto bigger things. But LO has the more unique problem of "its current stuff is shit and it's making us want the old stuff more, even if the old stuff wasn't good either". In that regard, LO is closer to being like Harry Potter. Remember when The Cursed Child came out at the height of Rowling being exposed for being a TERF and even people who liked Harry Potter didn't like The Cursed Child because it was just objectively worse overall (with or without Rowling's bullshit attached)? It made a lot of people go back and re-read / rewatch Harry Potter with a more objective lens and go "wait a minute guys, I think we only adored these books so much because we were 12 when we read them". Often times it's the good memories we have surrounding certain things that make us have the opinion about them that we do.

Of course, LO is definitely not as politically weaponized as Harry Potter is, so that's where that comparison ends. But my point is that LO is definitely in a situation where it's been riding off the same privileges it had back in 2018 - having an 'experimental' art style while also utilizing tropes and characters that were VERY popular at the time (remember that 2017-18 was when Tumblr was at its height of H x P "Hades was a chill accountant guy who wore socks and sandals and didn't cheat on his wife like Zeus did" fantasizing) - and thinks that those same tricks and tropes will still work today.

Because of this, the art in LO really, really hasn't aged well, even the stuff that we look back on fondly. But I think it's the panels that we specifically think of when remembering "old LO" - the ones that stuck in our memories the most - that are the ones that make us miss or just not care about the panels that don't look good (the panels that make people question why we ever liked it to begin with).

We liked it because of how it made us feel to look at panels like these-

Those genuinely wonderful panels that we think back on the most don't exist separately from the bad panels, they exist in spite of them. Even if we can look back on panels like these and pick out problems in the lineart or the proportions or the color travelling outside of the lines, that can't and shouldn't change how those panels made us feel at some point or another. And that's why when people ask me "why were you even into LO in the first place" I don't have any one answer, because I can't fully explain how something made me feel to justify why it's good to someone who can see from the outside - without rose-colored glasses - that it evidently isn't. It's very much a "you had to be there" type of thing.

Unfortunately, nowadays even the 'best' LO panels in S3 still don't come close to what the S1 panels accomplished - because for many of us, the rose-colored glasses are gone, we can't appreciate the good among the bad because we know now how bad it truly is and so the good just feels like wasted attempts at trying to recreate something it can no longer be. It "came back wrong" so to speak.

LO came back just regular. But our journey to resurrecting it changed us to such a degree that even its closest intimacies are now foreign to us. Sorry dude.

This is still probably one of my favorite panels out of the entirety of S3 for being as close to "old LO" as I've seen since S2, and even it feels like a mistake, an accident, how could a panel like this exist in S3 when so much of it is a dumpster fire? It's like a flower growing in the ruins of an apocalyptic wasteland.

But wasn't that always the case? Isn't that 'always' what LO has been, since the very beginning? A poorly cobbled together mess of writing and panels that, every now and then, manages to leave an impression that makes you feel something? Did we ever truly know LO? Or have we just been relying entirely on an idea of it that we've built up in our heads that when it does do exactly what it's evidently always done (even if not made apparent until looking back on it in hindsight) we think it "came back wrong"?

#anyways sorry that was a way deeper response than it oughta have been #welcome to the AMA roulette game of “ask puff a simple question which they may or may not respond to with an introspective essay" #lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #antiloreolympus #ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything

[devildom-moss]

Roses for You (1)

This had all started when you noticed a link between a book on the language of flowers you had borrowed from Satan’s room and the current lessons from your Seductive Speechcraft and Magical Potions classes.

In Seductive Speechcraft, you had just reached a section on the effectiveness of spells using non-verbal communication: enchanting glances, dance, and offerings. Meanwhile, in Magical Potions, the professor had been discussing the significance of using specific quantities when concocting potions; they had spent fifteen minutes just providing examples – including adding petals from two different flowers when using them for a love spell.

You couldn’t resist discussing the use of flower language – utilizing the type, color, and quantity of the flowers – to specify the magical intent of an offering as a form of seductive speechcraft. Asmo and Solomon listened intently. The same idea popped into both of their minds, and before you knew it, everyone was looking into color and number meanings, searching for the perfect combination to convey their feelings for you and try to put you under their spell. The only rule for their little competition to charm you? Only roses are allowed.

Will you be charmed by their attempts?

A Single Rose - Lucifer

Word Count: +500

You are (still) the only one / Love at the first sight

Lucifer took you out to dinner – smooth-talking, flirting, biting his lip, and giving you those bedroom eyes all night. You weren’t surprised when he invited you back to his room, either – especially with how he had been acting. He placed one hand on the small of your back as he led you through the door.

But once you were inside, his hand slowly slipped away, lingering as if he was reluctant to let go for even a second. However, Lucifer found that a dance without music was less romantic, and he stepped away to put the record on that he had set aside earlier that morning – specifically for this situation. To his recollection, the record he had chosen was the first one you had ever danced to together.

“Shall we?” Lucifer offered you his hand. The time between you accepting and Lucifer pulling you into his body was negligible. As you swayed with him, he felt that everything was going to plan. His eyes caught yours seductively, and he inched closer to your lips. “Close your eyes for me.”

You did as he asked and were rewarded with a gentle kiss that deepened as one of Lucifer’s hands came up to your cheek. When he pulled back, you were left wanting more – although, your want was nothing compared to his. Lucifer hid one hand behind him and took a step back before offering you his other hand. You raised a brow at him but placed your hand in his, nonetheless. As you did, Lucifer pulled a single burgundy rose from behind his back, bowing slightly as he did.

Accepting the rose, you admired its dark hue – a deeper shade of red than Lucifer’s eyes and almost as lovely. A deep red for a deep, passionate love.

“You really are such a gentleman, Luci.”

“But of course. Would you rather I be rough with you instead? That could be arranged if you want it.”

“Then who would be rough with you?” You smirked and guided Lucifer towards his bed until you were close enough to push him down on his back and crawl over him. Heat rose in Lucifer’s cheeks, painting them a delicate pink as he stared up at you. Tracing the soft petals of the single burgundy rose along Lucifer’s jawline, you cooed at him. “So, a single rose, Luci?”

“You’ve been studying, haven’t you? You understand my feelings, right?” He undercut his own cocky attitude with hesitant, unsure questions. It was precious: watching his façade crumble.

“I want you to say it.” You loosened Lucifer’s tie enough to start unbuttoning his shirt. Once you had plenty of access, you kissed down his neck.

A single burgundy rose. It wasn’t love at first sight with Lucifer; he wasn’t the type. No, it had another meaning. Lucifer let out a shaky breath. “You’re the only one – still the only one who makes me feel like this.”

His pulse throbbed under your lips. “I know.”

Dammit, Lucifer cursed himself. It seemed it was him who was under your spell, and now he was under you, too.

Mammon (2) | Leviathan (3) | Satan (4) | Asmodeus (5) | Beelzebub (6) | Belphegor (7) | Diavolo (8) | Barbatos (9) | Luke (10) | Simeon (11) | Solomon (12) | Thirteen (13) | Raphael (14) | Mephistopheles (15)

A/N: So this is what I have planned for October. It'll be a series of short fics like this for each character (mini series, I guess?) . I will hopefully get one out every two days. Next up will be Mammon. From Lucifer to Mephisto, the rose numbers will go from 1-15, with varying colors. I don't know, it just seemed like a cute plan, so I hope you all like it! I will probably keep the intro in each part in case someone stumbles upon a different part of the series first. Let me know your thoughts if you want to.

#lucifer #gn!mc #obey me #obey me series #obey me lucifer #lucifer x reader #can you all tell how much I want to dom/top Lucifer? He may act like a dom but it's all lies in my mind! #barely got it in before midnight PST so yay!

[cambion-companion]

hi, i’m not doing well. i had to give up my cats today, and my heart hurts a lot. i was wondering if i could request something soft if you have anything in mind. even some headcanons would be fantastic. i’m just heartbroken that i had to give up my babies on top of everything else i’m going through.

Oh darling I am so sorry. My heart hurts for you. I will most certainly write something to help in what little way I can.

Lips

Aemond x reader | soft fluff | admiring Aemond's mouth | trying a new lipstick leads to interesting shenanigans

"It's a lovely shade, perhaps a bit too red for my complexion." You smacked your lips together, having applied a thin layer of your newest cosmetic. "What do you think, Aemond?"

"I'm not the authority on differing shades of lipstick, my dear." Your lover leaned against the doorframe, watching fondly as you sat at your vanity. "It does look lovely on you...however I can think of other places it could be as well."

"Aemond." You scolded gently, rolling your eyes at him. "You're terrible."

"Hmm, so I've been told."

You rose from your seat, crossing to where he stood, wrapping your arms around his trim waist. You placed your head upon his chest, relishing the familiar smokey scent of him, the sound of his heartbeat in your ear.

A gentle finger hooked itself under your chin, lifting your gaze to his. "Are you well, my dear?" Aemond's violet eye drank in your features as it roved over your face.

You suppressed an instinctual grimace at the question. "I've...been better."

"I heard what happened. You need not disguise your pain for my sake." Aemond dipped his head, brushing his lips against yours before pressing a soft kiss to your mouth.

He pulled away slightly, your eyes fell to his plush lips, a giggle bubbling from your chest as you saw that your lipstick had transferred onto his skin. "You look quite dashing in rouge, I must say!"

"Gods..." Aemond moved to rub the back of his hand against his pretty mouth, but you caught his jaw with your fingers, pulling him back into your warm embrace. You kissed him soundly and he didn't put up a fight, even as you smooched his cheek theatrically, leaving behind a suggestive stain.

He pressed his forehead to yours, your gentle laughter mingling as you savored each other's comforting warmth.

"Come, let me clean you up." You led him to the sofa where the two of you sat.

"Something I am accustomed to saying to you." Aemond grinned as you swatted his shoulder.

You patted your lap. "Lie down."

"As my ember commands." Aemond laid his long body languidly across the cushions of the sofa, his head pillowed by your thighs.

You took your time, combing your fingers through the silver hair that fanned out across your legs. Tracing delicate fingers along the contours of his face, rising to lift the eyepatch from its place and set it to rest beside you. The sapphire gem glittered up at you, contrasting beautifully with the lilac of Aemond's remaining eye.

"You're lovely, my prince." You said honestly, continuing to run your fingers down his cheek, touching where your lips had left their mark.

"I...thank you, Y/N."

You smiled, nodding at him as you dipped a cloth inside the warm water of the wash basin beside you. "Sȳz taoba. Accept the compliment, don't reject it."

"Call me a 'good boy' again and I may not be able to lie still upon your lap, Y/N." Aemond's eye had dilated slightly at your praise, he gazed up into your face as you began dabbing away the rouge from his skin.

"Promises, promises." You murmured, earning yourself another low chuckle from the prince. "Now hold still, I'm going to clean your mouth. Can't have the court thinking you've caught some sort of skin ailment."

"Perish the thought."

"Stop talking, Aemond."

"Oh, right."

He closed his mouth, still watching you intently as you began gently rubbing off the lipstick. They were so lovely, his lips. The shape of his mouth something you had not seen before in man or woman. The sharpness of his cupid's bow tempered by the lush fullness of his top and bottom lips. When they were not pursed in displeasure or focus, Aemond's mouth was quite a pleasant thing to look at.

"Must be quite the stain." Aemond quipped, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, his eye crinkling at you.

"Mmhmm. Now hush." You pressed a finger against his bottom lip, studying the softness of his skin there, and how your finger could easily slide into his mouth with just one movement.

You traced the shape of his upper lip, having discarded the cleaning rag back into the basin. The curvature of his mouth fascinated you, and the more you studied it the more you wished to feel it pressed against your heating skin.

"You're clean." Your voice came out as a whisper, your eyes following Aemond's fluid movement as he rose to a sitting position, his face inches from yours.

"Cannot say the same for my thoughts." He intoned, his breath mingling with yours, his eye falling to your own parted lips.

"Are they ever?" You leaned in closer, craving the taste of him.

"On occasion." Aemond brushed his mouth against yours, your noses bumping. "Though certainly not when my lover has been caressing my lips with such fervor."

"There was a lot of lipstick on them."

"Hmm." Aemond's hooded eye was unfocused. "Shall we explore the possibilities of what else your pretty mouth can mark?"

"I could be persuaded." You reached up, tangling your fingers in Aemond's long hair, pulling him into you as his own hands stroked your sides.

He groaned quietly as you slowly pressed a kiss to his parted lips, electric arrows shot to your core as he bent you back against the cushions, leaning atop you as he deepened the embrace.

The shape of his mouth hot against your own awoke molten fire in your belly. You opened your legs to him, hugging his waist with your thighs as Aemond's tongue stroked along your own.

He broke away, his hair falling in a silver curtain to frame your faces. "We have to prepare for the feast that has...probably already started." Aemond sat up, looking regretfully down at your prone body as you arched against the sofa. "We will pick up where we left off after the festivities."

He raised your hand to his lush mouth, placing a kiss to each of your knuckles. "I know you're suffering, however silently, Y/N. Believe me when I say I will make you forget your troubles...if only for a little while."

"Your very presence eases my pain, Aemond." You cupped his face in your hand, caressing his bottom lip.

Aemond turned his face into your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. His fingers rubbing soft circles against your wrist as he held you to him.

"You may want to, ah, bring the wash basin over here." Aemond smirked mischievously as he donned his eyepatch once more. "We've made a bit of a mess. One that would be obvious in origin to those at the feast."

"Oh!" You touched your face self-consciously. "Wouldn't want the ladies of weak constitution to faint at the scandal."

"Nor the over eager men to draw swords for your honor."

"They wouldn't."

"You'd be unpleasantly surprised what bored lordlings get up to during their days at court."

The two of you helped each other clean the marks from your skin, it had gotten all over the outside of your mouth from the passion of your kisses. Aemond bit down his chuckles at your state of disarray after you shot him an arch glare. Once tidied and dressed, you walked forth from your chambers arm in arm, descending together to the great hall. Your mind quite preoccupied with memories of Aemond's soft mouth beneath your fingertips and what lay in store for you at the end of the night.

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[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of the Undersea Advisor.

In life, there are many variables to account for. Ah, but variables can be manipulated.

He remakes the world in his image.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

There are several little glass containers, lined up in a neat row, on his work bench. He is the master, and this is his craft: pocket dimensions, each with a different biome bottled.

Here is a lush garden with enchanted roses and caterpillars that blow smoke, and a savanna where miniature beasts race about. A desert with its own oasis--a massive scarab running amok, a regal castle he had painstakingly constructed with a pair of tweezers for a peacock no bigger than his thumb... He had even somehow managed to create a sleek building blinking blue lights and a crumbling chateau overrun with moss and bite-size bats.

His current project is a bowl of salt water, a layer of sand decorated with seaweed and coral at the bottom. He had taken the liberty of tucking fake jewels, a plastic treasure box, and a model of a sunken ship in.

For flair, he chuckles to himself. All that's left is to find proper aquatic specimens to house in it.

From the doorway, Jade adjusts the straps on his backpack, making sure that they're secure, that his supplies are in order. His boots laced, his jacket buttoned, he marches out the door and into the wilderness.

The forest is quiet and without trees but is not devoid of life.

Instead of trunks, there are stems--plump, pillowy, in various shades of white and cream. They are wider at the base and narrower at the head, which gives way to fluted undersides. Gills, Jade knows, a very different kind than those of a merman.

The air is clean and refreshing, lightly washed with spores. Not visible to the naked eye, but at the right refractions of sunlight, Jade can see them dancing into shapes upon the wind.

Circular shadows are cast across the ground, belonging to the caps that tower far above him. Mushrooms--macro-sized--have taken over the feet of the mountain, making it a suitable hideout for his hobbies. Sunlight spills through the cracks between the clustered caps, forming golden pools along the forest floor.

Jade makes a game of hopping upon them, one by one.

It isn't long before he comes upon the stream that cuts through the heart of the wood. A thin and humble little thing, able to be crossed in a single stride of his long legs.

Jade drops his backpack and drops to one knee. He inspects the fresh water up close with a careful eye. It's clear and still at the edges, white and foamy in the center, where it flows the fastest.

His heart leaps when he sees it--a streak of silver darting by.

He kicks off his footwear and rolls his pants up, silently stepping into the stream. Jade is cautious about not splashing, to avoid making noises or movements as that would disturb the wildlife.

He stands there, watching. Waiting, waiting, for that next fish to pass.

He thinks he sees it, a glimmer laid deep in the water. He reaches for it, fingers grazing wetness, but does not complete the grab.

“You like that, don’t you? The feeling of being in control, a life dancing in your palm,” a musical voice rings out. “It grants you security, assuredness.”

His eyes flicker down. His reflection shifts in the churning water, but he can see its mouth moving when his doesn’t.

An obstacle—amusing.

Jade purses his lips into a patient smile. “Oya, does a pixie presume to know those who visit their forest?”

“I am no pixie. In this pool of tears, all is laid bare,” his reflection says, “and given truth.”

“You claim to speak the truth. If that is the case, then you take no issue with divulging sensitive state secrets?” Jade’s smile grows, turning sharp. “To demonstrate your veracity, of course. I do not intend to misuse the information.”

“I know that you lie as easily as you breathe,” the pool replies, “for I have knowledge of only the souls that gaze into me.”

“A shame. I was quite curious about your awe-inspiring powers. Alas, there are limits put on greatness. It appears as though a puddle can never match the ocean in size nor in bounty.”

His reflection is not irked by his needling. “If you wish to take, then you must offer up a piece of yourself of equal value.”

“You have said that I lie as easily as I breathe. Is the word of a liar worth its salt?”

“You must speak truthfully.”

“But if I am a liar, and you have assumed my appearance, does that not, by proxy, make you a liar as well? That means what was uttered earlier is a lie, and I must tell an untruth—which I have already provided.”

The reflection pauses, considering the logic. Slow horror dawns on its expression—stolen from him—and it glowers.

"Liar," the reflection bitterly spits. It vanishes into the frothing waters.

There's a sigh, then the shudder of a release that fills the forest of mushrooms. Something, somewhere, has shattered.

Silver fills the clear stream, coloring it one shiny, metallic shade. Fins and scales bat against his skin. Healthy, plentiful.

Jade plunges an arm elbow-deep, and--

He gasps.

Something latches onto his arm and violently tugs. He's brought face-to-face with his own shocked expression, droplets hissing at him.

The stream, Jade realizes, should not be this deep.

He resists, trying to throw his body weight back, but the force holds tight. The slimy grip tightening like a fist.

He does not to fully relish in the surprise, so rare a feeling for him, before there is another strong pull. Jade falls forward, eyes wide as the water hits him in full.

Slowly, slowly... he finds himself sinking into an abyss.

It's the sea, deep and dark, shrouded by black mist. A ship-shaped shadow looms, at the inky depths--and through holes punched in the hull, undiscovered treasures wink up at him. Chests of forgotten gold and gems, like stars blinking in and out of view.

He dangles, suspended, like a puppet left upon the stage that has closed for the night. The scene, the stands, empty, save for the vague shapes of coral and twisting tendrils of seaweed.

Something shifts among the plants, and Jade tenses, preparing for a fight.

A long shape darts by, and his gaze tracks. The markings on it glow teal, peering through the murk--he recognizes it at once, relaxing.

"Floyd."

The name bubbles up and breaks upon the surface of the stream.

His twin circles him, his weaving tail sending Jade's jacket billowing. One is in the body of a human and the other, in their true form.

Floyd wordlessly grins, showing teeth like knives.

Behind him, the shadows swirl--a mess of writhing, squishy limbs and agonized moans. Tentacles, tentacles, painting a canvas with darkness.

A voice calls from somewhere in the void.

Floaty, far away.

"... de....... ade..."

"Jade!!"

He snaps awake, drawing in a deep gulp of air. As if he had just arisen from a dive.

Jade is seated at his workbench, blanked on either side. "Floyd, Azul..."

"We came as you had instructed, but it appears that now is not a good time," his dorm leader remarks. "You were sleeping like a log when we arrived."

"So I smashed a window with a rock and we let ourselves in!" Floyd declares proudly. Azul casts him a wary look.

"Just so you are aware, I am not to be held accountable for any damages incurred," he says hastily. "It was entirely Floyd's idea--I warned him against it and had him sign a liability form to assume any and all fees, should he ignore my advice and proceed with his ill-advised plot."

"Pfft." Jade chuckles. "My apologies. I must have become so enraptured in my project that I neglected to maintain a proper sleep schedule. The fault is mine, so I will not press charges."

Azul sighs, relieved. "Now, back to the matter at hand. For what reason have you summoned us here today?"

"Ah, that." Jade holds up his fishbowl, beaming. "I wished to share this with you both."

"Mmm, what is it?" Floyd asks, peering into the container. His face comes out the other end of it stretched wide and distorted, like the result of a funhouse mirror. "Looks like just some water to me."

"Another terrarium, I suspect." Azul pushes up his glasses as he surveys the other containers on the work bench "I see, so you've made one each in the image of the dormitories at Night Raven College. This one must be Octavinelle."

He suddenly frowns.

"Wait a minute, what is this?!" Azul thrusts a finger at a round little octopus suctioned to the inside of the bowl. The area around it is clouded with wisps of black.

"Hehehe, looks like Jade was right on the money with this one. That's so you, Azul."

"I-It is NOT!!"

"Really?" Jade's brows lift. "As I recall, you were exactly like this, tears and all, when..."

"AAAAAAAAH, stop, stooooop!! D-Don't say it, I can't bear that!!"

Jade laughs--soft and musical--granting his wailing dorm leader that single mercy. His chest is warm and full, a feeling his lies don't come close to.

I believe I’ve found myself company that is much more entertaining than any world right at my fingertips.

It’s his truth, the only one he has told this entire time.

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