#i simply cannot wait any longer | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lovelywritinglady · 1 year ago

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For our little writers' Art Trade...! Gyomei has no idea how much his small Fem!Reader lover enjoys seeing her beloved show his strength like he does during the Training Arc... Honestly, it's a HUGE turn-on to see him move a boulder with ease or stand in the middle of flames while balancing heavy weights over his back... Or see him hugging kitties. Sadly, Reader is weak and can only help train Demon Slayers by feeding them, much like Tengen's wives do. She is kinda motherly and that in return turns Gyomei on SO HARD. Where she is weak, he is strong, and vice versa. Maybe some smut? Maybe they sneak out to take out the NEED they lit in each other? I would be eternally thankful!

I shall do my best!!

Strength and Weakness

Gyomei Himejima x Fem!reader

In which you and your strong lover cannot contain the burning love for each other even in important times.

Fluff, SMUT, size kink, praise, outside sex, desperation sex, maybe out of character Gyomei.

It’s been nearly four weeks since the training with the Hashiras began. You had been working with your husband, Gyomei, to wip these young demon slayers into shape. However, most of them have yet to show true promise and the few who you think could are still training with the other Hashira. Knowing that the only reason that they are even going through such rigorous training is because of Muzan. The mere thought of Muzan would make anyone here shiver with either anticipation for a fight or pure fear.

Today marked the third day that this batch of young demon slayers were attempting to push the massive boulder that your husband had told them to move. It’s size was impressive to say the least but to your husband it was child’s play. He was strong and was considered the strongest Hashira around.

You could definitely attest to that as through out your relationship with the strong man, you had seen him push boulders nearly five times the one that he’s making these young demon slayers push, and for much longer. He was truly an impressive man and you knew that you had been blessed to have him as yours and only yours. However, it’s had been nearly four weeks since your husband last touched you.

Four weeks since you had felt his strong arms around your body in glorious passion. You were beginning to get antsy and it didn’t help when you saw his strong arms and ripped muscles flex as he pushed boulders or showed how to say his mantra at the waterfall training area. Your body flowed with desire for him and you could tell he felt the same. Seeing him being so soft and kind to the students ignited a fire within you. Not to mention the time he was absentmindedly holding a small black and white kitten while he was giving instructions. It didn’t feel fair but you knew that waiting was the right thing to do as you didn’t want any of the students to see the two of you in such a way.

Just as you were trying to think of anything else the very man in question passed by you pushing a boulder. His face calm as he chanted his mantra. While his muscles were in full display as the veins in his arms were bulging out. God you loved him. God how much you needed him. You were glad In that moment that he couldn’t see as the look you were giving him was simply sinful. Your body felt hot as your pussy ached with the absence of his cock. You needed him, your craved him and you knew it was only a matter of time before you were going to snap. You heard footsteps behind you and turned around to see one of the young demon and quite tired demon slayer students.

“Mrs. Himejima, I’m sorry to ask you this, but when do you think dinner will be ready?” One of the young demon slayers asked you with a strained voice as politely as he could manage.

“In about five minutes, tell the others for me will you?” You responded giving the poor tired boy a sweet smile as you did your best to push down the burning desire you had for your husband.

Meanwhile…

Gyomei had just wrapped up the waterfall demonstration as he noticed some of the young demon slayer students practically sprinting to the area that he knew his sweet wife was in. He decided to go there himself needing to hear your sweet voice after a long days of hearing the complaints of others. He sighed wiping the tears that had recently streamed down his face doing his best to look presentable to you. Soon, he had made it to you as a smile was present on his face.

To him, you were the very definition of perfection. Despite your physical weakness, you were kind. And to him, that was the greatest strength that anyone could have. He admired you for that and your kindness was one of the many reasons that he fell in love with you in the first place. He may not be able to see you but his soul knew that you were his and he was yours. And like you, he was getting very impatient for you. Hearing you day and day out being so sweet to these poor kids and how much you wanted to help him made him incredibly grateful and not to mention horny. He neeed you and he knew you needed him too. Now, he was probably the most patient man out there but when it came to you, it was though all reason and logic left him completely.

The thought of the way your smaller body sucked him in like it was meant to make him take a deep breath. His cock was beginning to grow and he tried his best to rid himself of such impure thoughts but hearing you now speaking so gently, so motherly, make him want to take you into the woods and make you the mother that he knew that you wanted to be. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Honey, would you like some too?” You asked suddenly as Gyomei had realized he was just standing here lost in the sinful thoughts of you.

“Yes my dear, thank you.” He responded after a few moments taking the massive plate of rice balls that you had made shivering slightly at the warm touch of your fingers brushing against his.

“You’re welcome! I made those just for you. I know you’ve been working really hard!” You beamed at him doing your best not to lose control at the mere sight of your husbands tall godlike stature in front of you. His sleeves were pulled up to his elbows as you had full view of his muscular arms still wet from the waterfall as his veins were in full view. You were doing your best but were practically drooling from just his arms. “Fuck.” You breathed out

“What was that, darling?” He asked putting one of his very large hands on your cheek, stroking it softly.

“N-nothing!” You chirped feeling slinky embarrassed for not keeping it together. “I hope you like them!” You quickly added

“I’m sure I will! If they are made by my sweet wife, then I know I’ll love them.” Gyomei spoke as pure adoration was lacing every word.

“Love?” You whispered

“Yes?” He asked bending down as he knew you needed to tell him something that only he needed to hear.

“I need you.” You whimpered finally admitting the thing you’ve needed to for four weeks now. “I know that we need to be professional but I can’t stand it anymore, I need you my husband. I need you. Please.” You added sounding so desperate so needy and who was Gyomei to deny you.

Without so much as a word, he set his plate gently down on a long and grabbed your hand as softly as he could and began walking into the woods a little too quickly. You began stumbling on your feet, barely tripping. Because of this, your husband quick as he could picked you up bridal style and now quicker than before, carried you far into the woods where he was positive that no one would wander. The very last thing he wanted was for someone’s innocent eyes to see what sinful acts he was about do upon his sweet wife.

Soon, he had found a suitable spot and had gently put you down on the soft grass. You hadn’t stopped looking at him the entire time as your mid was swimming with hundreds of scenarios that could happen in this very forest. Pussy was now soaking due to your excitement and impatience. Gyomei knew this as he could feel your wetness as he carried you earlier as his own make a sizable spot on his pants.

Gyomei then kneeled down and hovered over your smaller frame. He then without warning latched himself onto your neck. Kissing it roughly then softly allowing for you to fully grasp the sensation. And grasp you did as your whole body jerked with every kiss and every nip he was giving you. Your moans were loud and it was evident that he was doing well but could tell you needed more.

“Oh god, Gyomei please I need you.” You moaned out solidifying what he already knew.

“I know my love, I know.” He breathed out as he decided to start kissing down your chest more leaving a massive trail of love marks and kisses making your head spin as you grabbed a massive fistful of his spiky hair causing him to loudly grunt. He began sucking the skin on your hip making you buck up in response.

“Please!” You whined out needing more than this.

“Patience darling.” He whispered pressing kisses down your pussy causing your back to arch.

Without warning, he pushed your panties to the side and latched himself on your clit sucking it softly. His tongue began circling it making you moan your husbands name louder. Gyomei then proceeded to insert one of his large fingers into your needy hole and began pumping it in the way he knew you loved.

“Yes, yes, don’t stop. I’m gonna cum soon.” You moaned out pushing his head down against you as you began impinge is face softly.

He hummed in response as he inserted another finger slightly picking up the pace as he began scissoring your hole so that you were ready for him. Gyomei was content in his work as being intimate with you like this made him feel so accomplished. Knowing the he was the one to make you feel this good make his cock ache in his pants even more than it already had. Feeling bold, he decided that it was best to insert one more of his thick fingers.

“Gyomei!” You screeched as your climax had finally reached it peak. Your juices flowing into your husbands mouth as he greedily drank then with pleasure. Your then squeezed his head from the overstimulation you were feeling. You moaned his name over and over again as your vision went blurry and body numb from your orgasm. When he finally finished his meal, he lifted his head and gave you a sweet smile, his face covered in your pleasure.

“You did well, love. Would you like to continue?” He asked making sure you were going to be okay taking him.

“Y-yes. I need you.” You whimpered coming down from your incredible high that only Gyomei could give you.

“Good.” He spoke as his voice suddenly got deeper.

“Would you like me to take care of you?” You asked sitting up slightly as you watched him take off his clothes.

“I just need to feel you as you are. I’m getting rather impatient now my love.” Gyomei said as he suddenly picked you up as he latched his lips hungrily onto your own. You wrapped your arms around his strong neck as your boobs pressed against his hard chest.

Your eyes widen at the ferocity of his kiss. His tongue mixing with yours without warning. A moan escaped from his throat and that very sound sent shivers or pleasure down your spine. His arms gripped your smaller body as one of his hand heals you against him as the other gripped your ass firmly. You were shaking from this needing more.

“Honey..” you whined out.

But as soon as your spoke, your husband took his hand off your ass and desperately undid his pants, freeing his hard and sensitive cock. He the, rather boldly, grabbed your panties and ripped them off of your body like he was picking a flower.

“G-gyomei.” You stuttered shocked at his eagerness.

“Just need you and they were in the way of you.” He grunted and you whimpered my his show of strength. “Are you ready, dear?” He added making sure to take time to make sure you were comfortable.

“Mhmmm.” You moaned out

“Use your words sweet one.” Gyomei calmly asked.

“Yes! Please fuck me!” You cried out desperately feeling more and more desperate the longer this gets drawn out.

“Good girl.” He whispered in your ear as he lined himself with your pussy.

You felt the thick tip of his cock beginning to push in. You were more than ready to take him, wet from your previous orgasm. However, your husband, was not a small man. Meaning his cock was huge and no matter how long you prepared yourself, it would always be a slight challenge to take him. You were a smaller woman after all.

The burning sensation as his cock entered you made you suck on your breath at the pain. You gripped onto his shoulders digging into his skin. He grunted softly feeling how tight your pussy was against him a small smile graced his scarred face as the sensation he was longing for, praying for, was finally here after so long. Soon, after taking his time, his cock filled you up completely making you moan out his name. He stayed still allowing for you to adjust even more.

“Y/n, my darling, I’m going to move now. Is that okay?” He asked you softly as you felt his hands drift down to your ass once again.

“Yes!” I cried out with clear frustration in your voice.

“Good.” Gyomei responded

He then moved his hips slowly making sure that he wasn’t going to hurt you. Hearing your whimpers make him feel slightly crazy but he knew going too fast now would make you not be able to walk the next day. And he certainly didn’t want to embarrass you. However, your next words surprised him.

“Gyomei,dammit, stop being so nice to me and fuck me. I need it.” You cried out almost angry.

And that was the very encouragement he needed. Gyomei then pulled his cock out, only leaving the tip in making you whine in response before snapping his hips hard.

“Oh fuck!” You cried out as tears began pricking your eyes.

Your husband gripped your hips and ass as he began fucking you relentlessly. His pace was quick as his cock was hitting your cervix hard making your eyes roll back. He then began kissing and sucking on the most sensitive part of your neck making you moan loud. Your body was completely and utterly his in this moment as he was fucking you like never before. His grip on your ass would leave bruises and you knew that, not that you minded. Gyomei was grunting loud as he was pounding you in the air. Holding you like you weighed nothing. Using your body to his liking and god you loved it. You let him know how much you loved it scratching his back and moaning his name like a mantra. As you scratched you made sure not to hurt him.

“Harder my love, dig into my flesh!” He yelled out before crashing his lips hungrily onto yours.

And so, you did. You dig as deep and hard as you could as your husband went even faster than before making your mind and body feel like it was floating in ecstasy. The pain you felt before was long gone but you need for your husband grew and grew with each of his powerful thrusts. You began to cry due to overstimulation and the fact that you loved your husband so dearly.

“I-I love you so much.” You blabbered out as your tears poured out from your e/c eyes.

“I love you too, my darling.” Gyomei spoke out as his own tears started to flow as well. It wasn’t uncommon to see him crying but on this occasion it solidified his feelings for you. He was crying because of how much he loved you, how good you felt, and how thankful he was to have a woman like you in his life. And as he was pouring you he makes a silent prayer to God thanking him for you.

His grip on you increased as he felt himself close to cumming. His pace was erratic as the anticipation to his release was overwhelming. Your pussy was so tight, warm, and made perfectly for him. As for you, your own climax was soon as well. He was overwhelming all of your senses as you had already cum. Your body was far more sensitive than it had been in a long time due to waiting so long. You began to shake as you were getting weaker and weaker. However, you knew that even if you let go completely, your husband would hold you up due to his strength.

“Honey, m’gonna cum soon.” You blabbered out looking at his pleasure filled face.

“Me too, my darling, me too. I’m going to cum inside of you. Is that alright?” He asked quickly as his breathing became ragged.

“Y-yes. I want it.” You wined taking your turn to capture his lips with yours as you stuck your tongue in his mouth as your hands found new strength and gripped his hair roughly. His pace quickened as did his breathing. And soon you husband came as he held you closer to him as his dick was inside you fully.

“Oh my y/n, my one, my love.” He moaned out like he was praying a mantra.

You felt his thick cum filling you up like a warm embrace. You felt so full, so warm, so content. And as your husband held you, he brought one of his large hands yo your clit and began rubbing it in small circles, in the way you loved. He used the mixture of his cum and your slick to bring you pleasure. And just like that, you came hard. Your orgasm wracking your body with indescribable pleasure. His cock still stuffed deeply inside you as Gyomei could feel you tightening around him causing him to grunt as he decided to hump you slowly, enjoying the overstimulation that you were giving him.

“My love. Oh god!” You cried out still shaking from your high.

“I love you.” Gyomei whispered in your ear as he brought his left hand up to wipe the sweaty hair off your face as he placed a loving kiss on your forehead.

“I love you too. I’m so glad we did this.” You told him still in his embrace with his cock still inside you.

“Me as well. And as much as I’d love to do this again, we have students to attend too my darling love.” He said hesitantly as he gave you one more forehead kiss.

“Yeah, even if we did have time, I’m not sure my body could handle that again.” You admitted feeling tired. You laid your head on his chest taking deep breaths basking in the after glow of sex.

“Are you tired now?” He asked as he slowly pulled out making you gasp at the empty feeling.

“Yes, very.” You responded doing your best to sad on your own as he put you down. The feeling of his cum running down your legs made you shiver with the memory of recent events.

“Good I know you’ve been more restless recently. So I suggest you nap for awhile. I’ll tell the students.” He suggested as he put his clothes back on, doing his best to look at leafy semi presentable.

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer.” You yawned taking his arm to balance yourself. “But first I think I need to clean myself first.” You acknowledged feeling a bit gross due to the amount of sweat that was just on your body.

“It’s as though you read my mind, my love.” He spoke with a smile as he hoisted you up again. You were more than accepting of his gesture as your legs were too wobbly to walk properly. “There is a spring near by so we’ll go there and cleanse you, my darling.” He spoke softly sensing you were falling asleep.

“Thank you, my love.” You sleepily replied as you closed your eyes and snuggled into his warm embrace.

Gyomei then took you to that spring and clean you up all while you were too tired to do really anything. Your husband didn’t mind whatsoever as he loved doting and taking care of you. He was a lucky man and he knew that. Once you were all clean, he put your clothes back on your tired body and walked back to camp. As he did some of the students were questioning why you were in his arms and if you were okay. But he simply replied that you needed rest. Soon, he found a nice shady tree and place you under it. The grass was soft enough and this he kissed your lips and said a silent prayer to the gods for you. He then went back to the students and resumed his training to make sure these young demon slayers were ready for the fight with Muzan.

Thank you so much for reading!! I did a trade with @petitelepus so be sure to check out their content too!! 💜

Click here to see what I’ll write for and HERE for my master list.

Please feel free to like, comment, reblog, and request!

•I do NOT own any characters except y/n•

-L.W.L

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goldenstring6123 · 1 year ago

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hello ! wanted to say i really love your writing style and your stories for the characters ! I wanted to know if you’d write one for Love and deep space Sylus? A scenario where you’re both sleeping but you sneak away quietly to get something from the kitchen or for whatever reason but he stops you with his powers (the handcuffs etc) to bring you back to bed. I’m not sure if i’m making sense but something along those lines! please and thank you!

Sylus: Kitchen Sneaker

Warning: No warning. Fem!reader, domestic fluff (?)

Author's note: This is a fun domestic-ish prompt to write! I hope you like it my dear pookies <3

masterlist | Buy me a thread? |

Sylus was fast asleep beside you.

The man was a light sleeper for the sake of his own safety. According to him, even if the building was as secure as it could be, there were some instances where he woke up with a knife to his throat. However, ever since you began sharing the same bed, he had been sleeping like a log, which was good for him and the twins because they no longer had to deal with his hot head so early in the evening.

But it was bad for you. Simply because Sylus likes to hold you in his sleep. Sometimes his hand would be over your chest, groping your breast or squeezing in between your boobs, but most times, he would be holding your wrist, checking your pulse. How was this bad for you? Well, living alone for most of your adult life, you liked to indulge yourself in a midnight snack or two. With him holding you captive to the bed, his iron grip holding on to you, it was like you had a ball and chain around your body.

You've indulged Sylus for over a week now, but the intense midnight craving is overwhelming.

Tonight, it's food over Sylus. The man can wait. Food cannot.

You scooted his hand very, very, very gently away from your body. This man's hand is heavy and large. Sylus didn't move and continued to sleep peacefully, his exposed chest rising and falling calmly. The room was very cold, and you could even hear the blowing of the AC; it was at that moment that you realized how such small sounds seemed to be so loud at night.

With every step you take, you are holding your breath even more. Even against the carpet, the rustling of your feet seemed like it could stir Sylus awake at any second. Thankfully, you managed to traverse across the room like a spy. You even had to carefully close the door shut.

You used the stairs to get down to the kitchen, and while you were walking in the hallway, the chef was just about to leave, his satchel bag on his shoulder.

He and you made eye contact. You gestured to him to 'shush,' and he laughed.

"There's some leftover dessert and pasta in the fridge—feel free to eat it," he whispered, and you grinned, giving him a thumbs up. Greg is the best chef ever. You tiptoed to the kitchen, waving him goodbye. Your eyes landed on that double-door fridge that was whirring loudly.

Finally! You could taste that delicious panna cotta and aglio olio in your mouth. Your hands wrapped around the handle of the fridge, and as you tugged, the bright blue light of the fridge lit up your face.

You took the plate and settled it on the stainless steel counter. The next one was the small glass filled with chocolate and cream. You marveled at its delicate, savory look. You took a spoon from the nearby utensil holder and dug it into the soft texture, eager to get a taste.

Before it could land between your lips—

A cold whirlwind of black, scentless smoke wrapped around the fork. It flung out of your grasp, and before you could let out a peep, you, too, were flung away from the kitchen counter.

The man let out a grunt, his eyes low-lidded and foggy, clearly just woken up from his slumber.

"Pray tell," he gruffed, his voice an octave lower. "What are you doing in the kitchen? You're supposed to be in bed." Sylus let out a sigh while he brought you closer to him. He glanced behind you and saw the unopened plate of pasta and panna cotta.

"Never mind. You don't need to speak."

"I'm hungry! Don't you know you shouldn't get between a woman and her food?" you exclaimed while tugging at the thing around your exposed waist. You thrashed and thrashed, the straps of your nightshirt sliding down your shoulders. "Put me down and go back to bed! I'll be with you in five—no, fifteen minutes!"

His head was aching from all the noise you were making, and combined with the fact that you were out of bed by the time he woke up—to Sylus, it seemed like you were testing his patience. "Did you not eat enough during dinner time? You know you could've asked for second servings."

"I get midnight cravings on occasion, but when I'm sleeping over, you tend to weigh me down in bed," you explained, flailing your legs, which were a few feet off the ground.

"So, you're blaming me now?" Sylus raised an eyebrow.

You shrugged. Of course, you were. It wasn't your fault you couldn't get out of bed, and it wasn't your fault that the chef made great food and desserts. He didn't like the look on your face but, regardless, put you down to the floor, his hand tugging your strap over your shoulders. His red eyes glazed over your bare chest, but he turned away, walking to that lonely plate of pasta.

"We're going back to sleep after you have your fill." Sylus unwrapped the plate and took a fork, twirling it and taking a bite. The oily, mild tinge of spiciness and Parmesan helped push him awake. He won't deny that the chef was good at his job—it was even enough for you to sneak out of his bed.

You mounted yourself onto the kitchen island, the cold marble surface cooling the bottom of your thigh. You took the panna cotta, and finally, the creamy and sweet flavor of chocolate and cream exploded in your mouth. Unconsciously, you nodded in approval of the taste.

Quietly, you ate in each other's company, occasionally making small talk. Sylus left the dish in the sink along with the fork, but when he turned to you, your nose was inside the refrigerator again. "Cake roll slice…" you uttered. The strawberry cake roll looked delicious inside the glass container.

Before you could even reach out to it, the smoke appeared at the very same spot, dragging you away from the fridge. Sylus closed the double-door refrigerator and crossed his arms right in front of you. A clear 'no' was plastered all over his face.

You let out a groan as he dragged you away with the smoky black and red rope around your waist.

When you got back to the bedroom, you expected Sylus to go right back to sleep. But instead, the man pulled a handcuff from underneath his pillow. How and why it was, there was a question you didn't want to ask him. Without another word coming out of his mouth, he chained it to himself and took hold of your wrist.

"No. You're not going to—"

He latched the real handcuff around your wrists and laid down on the bed, dragging you with him.

"Sleep."

The lights dimmed and flickered off at his word, and you just lay there, staring up at the canopy.

"I guess this is our bedtime routine now," you sighed.

"Sleep," he reiterated.

You seriously have no idea how you put up with this man.

Author footnotes: I also like to sneak out to the kitchen and eat but instead of sylus, It's my mom who sees me and then i get the clothes hanger beat up for staying up late at night lol.

Layout by me, using Canva premium | Do not repost |

#lnds #lnds sylus #lads xavier #love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #lads sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus love and deepspace #l&ds #sylus lnd #SYLUS #sylus x you #sylus qin #sylus x y/n

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heyimkana · 2 months ago

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Pads & Conspiracies

AO3 Link

Set in the same AU as Pillow Talk and Come Home to Me, but can be read separately.

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x Female Reader

Genre: Marriage AU, Domestic Fluff, Slice of Life, Comedy

Summary: Sung Jinwoo isn’t so much an S-Rank Hunter as he is an S-Rank Husband. Today, he’s dealing with his wife’s period cramps, pad sizes, Beru’s cravings and a tiny domestic conspiracy.

Content Warnings: None—unless you count teeth-rotting fluff, adorable husband-wife moments, and Beru’s constant Shakespearean monologues.

Word Count: 10K (I wrote too many fluffy/silly moments—sorry 😔)

This one's for @satoruandjinwoobrainrot I'm sorry for taking so long to answer your ask, babe 😭 I hope you enjoy it ❤️

Your sweet, loving husband is in the middle of another dungeon raid. A dangerous one, at that—its mana levels place it just below an S-Rank gate. But Jinwoo, as always, enjoys the challenge. High-level dungeons offer greater experience, and he’s always hungry for more, isn’t he?

He steps into the boss room with his chin held high, the sleeves of his fitted black shirt rolled up to his elbows, veins prominent against fair skin.

“I’ll take care of this one myself,” he tells Igris, craving a good fight to keep his skills sharp. He can’t afford to get rusty just standing on the sidelines.

Jinwoo’s thin lips curl into a smirk as the beast looms before him—a colossal snake, three times the size of Kasaka, its fangs longer than his own towering height. The Demon King’s daggers materialize in his hands, gripped tightly between lean fingers as he taunts, “Quite a remarkable aura you’ve got there. Keep me entertained for a bit, will ya?”

The snake hisses, and Jinwoo lunges, aiming for its vitals—but suddenly—

MY LIEGE! MY LIEGE!

Beru’s frantic voice cuts through his mind, breaking his focus. The distraction costs him; he misses the strike.

Jinwoo’s chest tightens with dread. Beru is the shadow soldier assigned to protect you. The former Ant King could take on an S-Rank Hunter without breaking a sweat.

So why is he panicking? What could possibly shake him?

More importantly—are you okay?

If he weren’t mid-fight, he’d swap places with him or share his senses to see for himself. But since Beru can still speak calmly—well, frantically but coherently—Jinwoo knows he’s not in combat.

Still, the distraction nearly proves fatal. The snake whips its tail, and Jinwoo only barely dodges, his reflexes saving him by milliseconds. A direct hit would've pulverized his bones.

“Beru, talk to me!” he shouts, panic bubbling in his throat. “What happened?!”

Mine liege, lo, it hath been naught but an hour since thy wedded dame did informeth me—

“Speak normally!”

A-apologies, my liege! It is… that time of the month again. She told me she is in great pain. There is significant bleeding.

His dagger clashes against the snake’s fang. “She’s having her period?”

Yes, my liege.

Oh, thank God, Jinwoo breathes in relief, dodging yet another attack. It’s not that he’s glad to hear you’re simply suffering from your regular period cramps—but it’s much, much better than the dreadful thought that had emerged in his head a second ago.

Tell her to hang on, he instructs through the link, driving a dagger through the snake’s scales. Blood stains his shirt, but he barely notices. I’ll be there as soon as possible.

I will inform her, my liege. But I must stress—she is in tremendous pain. What if something worse occurs?

Jinwoo clenches his teeth, frustration surging through him. He would've asked his sister Jinah if she was in town, but she'd left on vacation with Jinho two days ago.

I need to get this over with fast, he thinks. Do what you can to help her, Beru. I’ll finish this and return immediately. Tell her to wait for me.

Yes, my liege, I shall assist her in any way I can in your absence. But your presence is sorely needed. I cannot soothe her the way you do.

That, Jinwoo knows—and he’s proud of it. But he still can’t abandon the fight just yet.

The snake is tougher than expected. Jinwoo could end it quickly if he focused, but his mind is elsewhere. You’re all he can think about.

What does my wife need?

She requested medicine and sanitary pads, my liege. But… we appear to be out. Shall I dispatch a high orc to the store?

No. The last thing he needs is to terrify the entire neighborhood. Again.

His tempo falters. For the last two minutes, he’s done nothing but dodge and parry. His chest tightens at the image of you, curled up in bed, hurting and alone. He considers calling Jinho or his sister—but they’re on vacation at the moment.

And then—things get worse.

Dozens of slithering snakes suddenly come into view. Smaller in size, but lethal nonetheless. They bare their fangs at him, hissing—probably fucking pissed off because he hasn’t been taking them seriously.

Jinwoo curses under his breath. Clearing this dungeon just got more complicated. Can she wait twenty… maybe thirty more minutes?

My liege… she is crying.

“IGRIS!” Jinwoo calls out in haste. Debate’s over. “Take my place. I need to leave—now.”

The powerful knight does not hesitate. With a dozen lower-ranked soldiers at his back, Igris rushes into battle, the Demon Monarch’s longsword held tightly in his hands, casting lightning bolts with every swing.

Jinwoo’s eyes flash from icy blue to violet, gleaming in the darkness of the cave. His daggers vanish into thin air as misty black tendrils envelop his frame like smoke.

“Exchange.”

***

Having swapped places with a patrolling shadow soldier, Jinwoo emerges onto the peaceful streets of Seoul. The stark contrast to the dark, suffocating dungeon is jarring. The sun blazes overhead, hot and merciless, causing beads of sweat to form at his temple as he sprints toward the nearest pharmacy.

“H-Hunter Sung Jinwoo!”

A female cashier gasps as he storms through the automatic doors, his combat boots—still slick with monster blood—leaving grotesque red smears across the pristine white marble floor. Her eyes widen in horror. Has a dungeon break occurred nearby? It’s not every day that an S-Rank Hunter bursts into a store with his chest heaving, his shirt soaked in blood, and his dark hair clinging to his forehead.

“A-Are you all right, sir? Is there a problem—?”

“Yes.” His voice is firm. Grave. The kind of tone people expect right before an evacuation order is issued.

The intensity of his gaze wipes the color from her face. Time seems to freeze.

“I need you to get me some pads.”

“…Pardon?”

***

“S-So, um…” the cashier begins awkwardly, spreading an overwhelming selection of pads across the counter. “We have reusable pads, regular pads, ultra-thin pads, maxi pads, overnight pads… These ones are scented, these are not. Oh, these are exceptionally soft, but they’re a bit expensive. And these ones—”

Jinwoo stares blankly at the display, her words blurring together. He’s trying to listen, but nothing is sinking in. The explanation seems endless and he's losing it.

“Why… why are there so many different types?” he asks, genuinely bewildered. “Don’t they all serve the same purpose?”

“Well, yes, sir, but every woman has her own preferences. Some might like scented pads to mask the, um, odor, while others prefer—”

She keeps going. His brain starts turning to mush.

“All right. Which one’s the best?”

“Like I said, sir… it depends.”

“Which one do you use?”

“Eh?!” Her cheeks flush crimson. She wasn’t prepared for that level of personal, and Jinwoo is so out of it right now to notice it. “T-This one, sir.” She gingerly pushes a pack forward, unable to meet his eyes. When she woke up this morning, she hadn’t expected to be discussing her menstrual product choices with Sung Jinwoo, of all people. “They’re cotton-based. Um. More breathable.”

“Okay. I’ll take that one.”

“Right. What size do you—uh, I mean, does your wife usually use?”

He stops and stares. Of course they have sizes.

Seeing his soul leave his body, she gently suggests, “You might want to give her a call?”

“Give me a sec.” He closes his eyes. Beru.

Yes, my liege.

What pad size does my wife usually use?

She prefers the overnight kind. The ones labeled for ‘heavy flow,’ my liege.

Jinwoo opens his eyes. “Overnight pads. Heavy flow.”

“With or without wings?”

He stops and stares. Again. “O-one moment.”

Beru. With or without wings?

She favors the ones with wings, my liege.

“With wings, please.”

“Scented or unscented?”

His head drops back. God, why are there so many choices?

Beru.

The scented ones have caused her skin irritation before, my liege, so I suggest—

“Unscented, thanks.” God, please, no more questions.

“Y-yes, sir.” The cashier quickly bags the selected pack. “Is there anything else?”

Beru?

She has said that her abdominal pains are severe, my liege.

Right. “Yes, some painkillers too, please—for cramps.”

A beat.

A-also, my liege… may I be so bold as to request… candy mints? This humble servant has long been curious about their taste. I-if it’s not too much trouble, of course.

Jinwoo sighs. “And some candy mints. Thank you.”

***

Stepping out of the pharmacy with a plastic bag dangling from one hand, Jinwoo’s mind spins in a dozen directions, each one trying to figure out how he can make you feel even a little bit better. He knows this pain visits you monthly, yet it never sits right with him—just watching you suffer while he does nothing.

Maybe some comfort food will help…

He makes a quick detour into a nearby convenience store, heading straight for the snack aisle. These days, he’s memorized all your favorites—the specific brand, the exact flavor. Unlike the nightmare that was navigating menstrual pads, this is familiar territory.

As he strolls down an aisle, he spots a familiar brand of potato chips—the exact flavor you always reach for first. He smiles. Without hesitation, he grabs a few bags, tossing three in for you and one for himself.

But just as they land in the cart, Beru’s voice buzzes into his mind like a pesky conscience.

My liege, I do not suggest giving these food items to her. They are not suitable for women during menstrual cramps.

Jinwoo freezes mid-step. “What?” he mutters, glancing at the chips. There’s food you’re not supposed to eat during your period? He genuinely didn’t know. He makes a mental note to be better next time.

What should I get for her, then?

Foods that are high in fat and sodium should be avoided, Beru explains smoothly, as if he’s been rehearsing this in the mirror. They can increase bloating and water retention. She needs easily digestible meals—foods that reduce inflammation. Fruits like bananas and berries are good choices. A light vegetable soup, especially with ginger, will ease her cramps. And dark chocolate, my liege. It helps with mood regulation.

Jinwoo blinks, frowning. That’s… oddly specific. How do you even know all this? You’re an ant.

Beru puffs up with pride—even through telepathy, Jinwoo can feel it. I have studied human biology extensively through your interactions and dialogue, my liege. While I am not human, I have amassed considerable knowledge to ensure the safety and comfort of your lady wife. In fact, I have also learned about human sexual reproduction by studying anatomical references and behavioral data. If you wish, I can provide suggestions to improve fertility—

Nope. No need.

But, my liege, it has been several months since you began your attempts to produce an heir, and the results have been less than rewarding. May I suggest altering your coital positioning to improve pelvic angle and sperm—

I will strangle you.

M-m-my apologies, my liege. Please have mercy!

Jinwoo exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was just trying to buy soup ingredients—how did this escalate so quickly?

Right. Soup. He returns to the task. I’ll just get what I need and cook it for her later.

An excellent decision, my liege. She will surely be pleased.

Jinwoo’s hand reaches for the chip bags to return them—only for Beru’s voice to chime in one last time, soft and trembling.

M-my liege… may I also have the potato chi—

No.

He doesn’t need to see him to know—Beru is weeping somewhere in the shadows.

***

The player screen flickers before his eyes:

Cooldown Time Remaining: 2:32:36

Jinwoo swears under his breath. Shadow Exchange won’t work for another two and a half hours. He has no time to waste.

Without hesitation, he leaps into the air and calls, “Kaisel.” The sky darkens instantly as the massive wyvern materializes, letting out a ferocious roar that echoes across the city skyline.

“Take me to my wife,” Jinwoo commands, his voice low, sharp with urgency. “As fast as you can.”

The air whips around him as Kaisel surges upward, wings slicing the clouds like blades, the landscape a blur beneath. He plants his feet on the creature’s back, wind tugging at his shirt, but his eyes are fixed on the horizon, his mind drifting back to you.

How is she now? he asks Beru.

The ant’s voice answers quickly, full of subdued concern. She is still in bed, my liege. Unable to sleep. It has been a very taxing pain—on both her body and her spirit. She has been fighting it for hours.

For hours? Jinwoo's heart tightens, stabbed by guilt. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?

I wished to, my liege. But… she forbade me. Beru’s voice dips with guilt. She did not want to worry you, especially knowing you had a raid this morning.

Jinwoo exhales harshly, his eyes narrowing. Of course you did, he thinks of you—not in frustration, but in aching admiration. Always protecting me, even when you're the one in pain.

What about your healing magic?

I have tried it several times, my liege. It dulls the pain, but only slightly. I fear my abilities cannot counteract this form of suffering.

Keep at it, he orders. And heat a water bottle—press it against her lower stomach. It should ease the pain a little. He’s done it for you countless times. It always helps.

At once, my liege.

His heart aches at the thought of you lying curled up in bed, face pale, body trembling, fighting off the ache in silence. This isn’t like the others, he thinks. Isn’t this her sixth day? That’s past the worst of it, usually.

He presses two fingers to his chin, deep in thought. He’s memorized your cycle by now—he knows your usual pain, your patterns. Normally, your cramps hit hard on the first day, then fade within a couple more. Why is it still so bad? Did something change? Whatever the answer is, it doesn’t change the fact that you're still in pain.

And that he's not there to soothe you.

Damn it.

Had he known this would happen, he never would’ve left your side this morning. Just like earlier this week, when he spent the whole day holding you, warming you, stroking your back until sleep claimed you. No raid, no mission, no beast was worth more than your comfort.

Jinwoo clenches his jaw, wind howling around him as Kaisel surges faster. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to comfort you sooner, he thinks, his heart heavy with regret.

The shadows tremble beneath his feet as Kaisel speeds forward, a black streak across the blue sky.

I promise I’ll be there soon.

***

Jumping off Kaisel's back even before the beast sinks its talons into the ground, Jinwoo dashes toward the house, barely registering the startled high orcs tending the garden as he passes. The second he reaches the door, he slows, catching his breath. Carefully, he turns the knob—gentle, quiet—so he doesn’t startle you.

As expected, he finds you lying on the bed, curled up on your side. His heart squeezes at the sight of you, and he feels a mix of sympathy and helplessness for not being able to take the pain away.

He places the plastic bag on the bedside table and eases down beside you. “Hey…” His voice is low, velvety-soft as his fingers comb through your hair. “I’m here.”

Your eyes flutter open at the sound. “Hey… You’re here? I thought you were still on the raid…”

“I was, but Beru told me you were hurting.” His brows pull together as he gazes at you. “I couldn’t stay after that.”

“You shouldn’t have left. I’m fine.” You shift, trying to sit up and brush it off, pretending to be strong as always.

“Don’t,” Jinwoo says quickly, gently guiding you back down. “Lie down, honey. It’s all right.”

“I’m fine, Jin. Honestly.”

He smiles—tender but a little sad. “You always do this, don’t you? Always trying to be strong so I won’t worry. It’s cute when you do, and I love that about you, but...” His hand brushes along your temple. “It’s okay not to be so tough all the time, you know that, right? When you come to me and ask for my help, that makes me happy too. Maybe even the happiest. I love it when you’re being needy—didn’t I tell you that?”

You give him a tired smile. “Still… you didn’t have to leave the raid. I feel bad.”

“Don’t be. I wanted to see you. As soon as Beru told me you were crying in pain, I had to get out of there. I just couldn't stand it.”

“Beru was being dramatic…”

“I wish you’d be a bit dramatic,” he smirks, roguish and seductive. “Crying, whimpering my name, begging me to come home and soothe you.” His voice falls into that low, teasing register. “I’d love that.”

You groan. “I’m too weak to punch you right now, but please try and visualize it for me.”

He laughs quietly, his eyes softening again. How do you still manage to be this adorable while in pain?

He brushes his fingers down your cheek, cupping it tenderly. “I’m here, okay? You don’t have to pretend. It’s just me.”

His heart melts at the sight of you nuzzling your face further into his palm, your contented sigh mollifying his worry. “Okay.”

“Is there anything you need? I brought you some painkillers,” he says, reaching for the bag. “Got new pads too—overnight, unscented, with wings. Also… dark chocolate to help your mood. I wanted to grab your favorite chips, but Be—” He coughs once. “I mean, I read somewhere they’re not great for cramps. Something about water retention.”

“Wow,” you giggle faintly, impressed. “Look at you, doing your homework.”

“Of course,” he says proudly, kissing your forehead. “I care about my wife.” Watching you curl further into yourself, he frowns. “How bad is it?”

You answer with a pained moan, rolling to your side with one hand clutching your stomach. “Bad enough that I want to punch someone in the face.”

“Ah. One of those days.” He tears open the painkiller packet, pours you a glass of water, and helps you sit up. Your hands tremble as you take the meds, and Jinwoo runs a hand up and down your arm to steady you, his touch gentle and reassuring. “I’ll run a warm bath for you, okay? I can give you a back massage too, if you want. It might help relieve the pain a bit—at least until the medicine kicks in.”

You lean forward, your forehead resting on his shoulder as you mumble, “You’re just looking for an excuse to touch me.”

“Is that what you think of me?” He sighs, despite being a little amused, because… well, yeah, he’s probably going to, just for a tiny bit. He puts a small distance between you, gesturing for you to lie down. “Wait here, honey. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He stands, preparing to head to the bathroom, but you catch him by the sleeve, holding onto him tightly. “Don’t go…” Your voice echoes through his ears in a fragile whisper. “I don’t need you to do anything. I just want you to stay here. Just for a bit.”

Watching you act like this, a part of him dies and goes to heaven. You’re more adorable than you’ve ever been.

“Hey…” Jinwoo kneels right beside the bed, bringing himself to your level. He takes your hand in his, giving it a soft squeeze, his sweet smile dripping with affection. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m just gonna run the bath, that’s all. Then I’ll come right back.”

He can tell you just want him to be there, to hold you and just breathe in the same air until the pain in your stomach recedes. But a warm bath would certainly help more than just lying around in bed. He decides that the cuddling can wait until you’re all warmed up and relaxed.

You hesitate, lips puckered in a soft pout. “Just five minutes. Please?”

“God, you’re so cute.” He physically has to fight the urge to wrap his arms around you, to hold you close, to kiss your lips and love you until you’re suffocated with it. “Can I be honest?” The sweetness in his smile morphs into something mischievous. “Is it bad that I want you to stay like this forever? So you’ll always be this clingy around me?”

The moment is shattered. “Never mind. Go.”

“No, wait, come on—” He laughs, dodging your half-hearted swat. “Beg me again, baby.”

You flick him on the nose. “Go.”

With a grin still perched on his lips, your husband heads to the bathroom and gets the water running, testing the warmth with his fingers until it’s perfect. When he returns, he doesn’t say a word—just slides his arms beneath you.

“I can walk,” you say, palm against his chest to stop him.

“I know,” he says, landing a small kiss on the tip of your nose. “But I want to. Let me spoil my wife a little. It’s not every day she clings to me like this. I wanna take the opportunity to be the husband she dreams of.”

“But you already are…”

He catches you murmuring under your breath. Your honesty brings a tinge of scarlet to his cheeks. He clears his throat, pretending not to hear.

“…All right,” Jinwoo says after a pause. “Bath first. Cuddles after. Deal?”

You nod, and he kisses your temple with a smile.

***

Hooking one hand beneath your knees and the other supporting your back, Jinwoo carries you to the bathroom, a quiet smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He takes pride in this—in taking care of you. Although he sympathizes with your pain, he can’t help but feel immense joy from being so needed, from being the person you lean on for support. It fills him with something warm and grounding. Purpose.

He sets you down gently, keeping an arm firm around your waist in case your legs give out. The warm scent of lavender bath salts fills the air.

“I’m going to undress you, okay?” he says, his voice soft, coaxing.

He waits until you give him a little nod before he proceeds.

He pulls your knitted sweater over your head with careful hands, leaning down to kiss the curve of your shoulder like it’s something sacred. “You’ll be all right, Sweetheart. I’ll take care of you.”

Seeing you turn sheepish under his ministrations causes joy to swell further in his chest. You’re adorable when you’re shy. He lowers himself to his knees, fingers brushing the waistband of your jeans—and that’s when you stop him.

“I—I can do this part myself.”

Jinwoo glances up, a curious smile forming. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m your husband, remember? There’s no need to be shy.”

“No, it’s not that,” you stammer, hands fluttering awkwardly. “I’m wearing a pad, and… I’m bleeding.”

He lets out a quiet laugh. “And? Honey, I’ve been waist-deep in dungeon filth and monster guts. A little period blood isn’t going to faze me.”

You shake your head stubbornly, cheeks burning. “No, it’s gross. I don’t want you to see it.”

“It’s not gross,” he insists gently, reaching for your hand. “It’s just you. There’s nothing about you that could ever be—”

“No. Go,” you say more firmly, cutting him off. “I’ll call you when I’m done.”

That stops him.

He studies you for a beat, his smile softening into something more thoughtful. There’s a flicker in your expression—too quick for most to catch, but not for him. Jinwoo has seen every version of you. This one is… off.

You’re flustered, yes, but beneath that, there’s something else.

Guilt?

His brows draw together slightly, a faint furrow forming between them. Why would she feel guilty?

“Jinwoo, go.”

He exhales through his nose, standing up slowly. “Always so stubborn,” he mutters, giving your head one last pat. “All right. If you insist. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

As he turns to leave, he steals one last glance at you over his shoulder.

You’re biting your lip.

He closes the door behind him and leans his back against it, arms crossed. Something doesn’t add up.

He’s not mad—he never could be, not with you—but now his thoughts are running. You looked too tense. Too evasive. And he knows you. When the pain is real, you don’t hide it like that. You don’t push him away. Not like this.

So what are you hiding, Sweetheart?

***

Jinwoo returns to the bathroom a moment later, his head peeking inside. “Can I come in?”

“Yes.”

He slips past the door, tugging on his sleeves until they pool around his elbows. He’s pleased to see you sitting comfortably in the tub, back resting against the curved porcelain, your expression blissful as the steaming water cradles you up to the shoulders.

“Feels good?”

You hum in contentment, eyes closed, lips parting in a quiet sigh. The tension you held earlier seems to be melting away with the heat. Your shoulders have softened. Your breathing is even. It’s working.

“That’s good to know,” Jinwoo breathes in relief, setting a fresh towel on the bathroom counter. He closes more of the space between you, settling himself on the edge of the tub right next to you. “I’m glad you feel better,” he says, reaching forward to brush a damp strand of hair from your face. “The meds should kick in soon, too. You’ll feel even more comfortable then. Also, here.” He hands you a chocolate bar, your favorite brand plastered on the package. “For emotional support. And sugar. And serotonin. You know—the holy trinity.”

“Mm. The holy trinity to make me fat.”

He chuckles at your comment. “Just something to munch on as you drown in your own filth.”

“You should join me next time,” you titter, peeling the wrapper. “We can drown in our filth together.”

“Mm. Sexy,” he deadpans. “But I can’t say no to a pretty lady bathing in molten chocolate, so yeah—next time, when you’re not feeling like you’re being stabbed in the stomach.”

“That’s a pretty accurate depiction of period cramps, actually.” You bite into the chocolate, groaning in delight as it melts on your tongue. “God, I forgot how good this is. Want some?”

“Sure.”

Instead of taking a bite, Jinwoo cups your chin gently and leans in, his lips brushing yours in a soft, slow kiss that quickly deepens. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, savoring the blend of chocolate and you—and for a second, he forgets you’re supposed to be hurting. The taste alone threatens to undo him.

When he pulls away, he licks his lips, eyes still fixed on your mouth. “Mm. Not bad at all.”

You roll your eyes despite being flustered. “I knew you’d do something cheesy like that.”

“And yet, I can hear your heart racing.” He smirks, tapping his ear, referring to his acute hunter’s hearing. “Expecting more, Sweetheart?”

“No,” you scoff, though the heat rising in your face says otherwise. “That was so predictable. Step up your game, Husband. You’re at risk of becoming boring.”

He chuckles, low and dangerous. “Careful, love. I’m only behaving because you’re sick. Say that again when you’re better—I’ll prove you wrong.”

He gazes down at you, the curve of his mouth filthy with desire, making sure you understand he’ll keep his word—and all the dirty things he has in store for you. It delights him, seeing you turn so embarrassed, and he wishes you’d stay that way a little longer. But you quickly regain your composure.

“Thank you,” he hears you say. “For doing this for me. Seriously, Jin. You’re the best.”

Jinwoo blinks at the sincere gratitude shimmering in your eyes, not expecting to see it so soon—but it’s a pleasant surprise indeed.

“The best husband in the world?” he fishes, grinning boyishly.

“Oh, absolutely. No competition. Expect your World’s Number One Husband mug to arrive in three to five business days,” you jest, your tiny giggles pulling a laugh from him too—unguarded and warm.

“Just a mug?” He reaches for a nearby washcloth, soaking it in the water. “Surely I deserve something more than that, Angel.” Though his words are playful with a hint of impishness, his heart is filled with the desire to take care of you—to protect you—especially now, seeing how vulnerable you look, all naked and… wet.

“Like what?” you ask, but he misses it—his gaze transfixed on a single bead of water that trails from your chin, sliding down your neck to rest in the hollow of your collarbone.

“Jinwoo?”

“Yeah?” He blinks, breaking free from his stupor. “Sorry. Got a little… distracted.” He clears his throat. “Let me help you.”

Your husband dips the washcloth in the water again before carefully washing your body—starting with your shoulders, then moving down to your arms. His touch is reverent, filled with quiet devotion, mindful of your soreness. He dabs the cloth over your face, softly rubbing it against your skin. As he reaches down to your neck, his gaze lingers a moment too long on the part he usually marks with lips and teeth. It’s been over a week since he last saw a bruise bloom over your veins. The urge to repaint it rises.

“You’re distracted again, honey.”

“Right, yeah.” He gets to work again, moving his hand lower to your chest with painstaking care. It’s even harder than before—but this time, he’s prepared. Trying his best to be respectful, he avoids looking at your intimate parts for too long, keeping his thoughts focused on the task at hand, not the way your body feels under his touch.

Then something flickers in his thoughts.

Wait.

You said you were on your period. That you were in pain. But…

You’re holding yourself differently now. No winces. No tension in your abdomen. You’re relaxed. Too relaxed.

His eyes narrow slightly. Strange. You don’t fake pain—not with him.

He swallows the suspicion for now, smoothing the washcloth across your side in silence. But somewhere in the back of his mind, a theory begins to form.

“So, what is it that you want?” you ask, your voice soft, breath stirring the steam as his fingers trail down your spine. “You never answered my question earlier.”

“Can I ask for something sexual?”

You snort. “Sometimes I’m impressed by how shameless you are. No, like a gift, Jin. An actual gift.”

“An actual gift, huh? Hmm…” He reaches for the bottle of soap, squeezing a dollop into his hands before lathering it between his palms. “How about… you give me some coupons?”

“Coupons?” Your brows knit in confusion. “What, like grocery coupons?”

“No,” he laughs, the sound low and fond. God, you’re cute. “Like special coupons, you know? A set of blank vouchers you give to your partner.” He starts rubbing your shoulders, hands moving in circles, massaging the tension from your muscles. “I’ll write something down on the card—whatever it is I want you to do for me—and when I give it to you, you’ll have to do it. I can use the coupon anytime I want. No exceptions. No complaints. No backsies.”

“You just want an excuse to boss me around,” you murmur, though you’re already melting under his touch.

“Maybe. But mostly”—he leans in closer, his warm breath fanning your shoulder as he reduces his voice to a low, seductive whisper—“I want to see you be a good girl for me.”

You stiffen slightly, goosebumps breaking on your skin. He doesn’t miss it—and neither does he miss the sound of your heartbeat escalating. He wonders if it’s because you’re too shy to uphold the idea… or if you just really, really like being called a good girl.

You gather yourself quickly. “A-and what if I don’t want to?”

His caress, like his voice, turns seductive and teasing, fingers trailing languidly just below your breast. “You don’t want to be a good girl for me?”

“No, I mean—” You hug your knees to your chest, burying your face in them. Oh yeah, it’s definitely the good girl part that flusters you, but more because of the way he said it, not the line itself. “I meant the coupons, you dummy. W-what if I don’t want to do the things you write down?”

He chuckles darkly, sliding his hand up to the nape of your neck, fingers twitching with the urge to grip. “Then that’s an even better gift for me.”

You shiver when he applies a little pressure there. Maybe, just like him, you recall the way he possessively holds you by the back of your neck when he kisses you—or when he takes you from behind. Jinwoo can’t help but succumb to his desire, just for a bit—lean fingers twisting around your damp strands, pulling your head back until you have no choice but to meet his gaze. He smiles down at you, eyes hooded, voice dropping an octave lower.

“Because then, I get to punish you.”

He kisses you—slow and indulgent—letting you feel the shape of his tantalizing smile. When he releases you, he’s greeted by another pout.

“I feel like you’re just going to use those coupons to exploit me sexually.”

“That’s harsh,” he replies, grinning. But is it a denial? Of course not.

“Look, honey, if you don’t trust me, you can write them yourself.” He kneels beside the tub, his hand traveling down to your thigh, rinsing the soap from your skin with careful sweeps of the cloth. “Write down the things you want to do with me. To me,” he corrects, shamelessly. “I’m down for whatever you want to do. Focus on what makes you happy.”

“But this is supposed to be my gift to you. I want to make you happy.”

“Sweetheart,” he lands a soft kiss on your knee. “If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Jinwoo lifts your other leg, giving it the same amount of care and attention. Your skin is warm and soft, and it takes all his self-control not to touch you sensually. The warm water beads on your skin, and every soft gasp you let out as he works the sore muscles in your ankle tests his restraint. You’re completely naked. Vulnerable. Glowing.

And he’s trying very, very hard to be good.

“Just be creative with it,” he adds, trying to redirect his focus. “Write down something fun.”

“Like what?”

“Like…” His hand glides up your thigh, hovering dangerously close to the part he’s been dying to touch. He leans forward, bringing his lips close to your ear, his smirk grazing your shell. “Putting on a nurse costume and treating me like your patient—”

You splash water in his direction before the words even finish leaving his mouth, not caring if you’re drenching his hair and clothes. He flinches, laughing, water dripping down his face and hair.

“Hey!” Jinwoo grabs your wrist, his laughter bouncing off the bathroom walls. “It was just an example! Unless, y’know… you’re into it.”

You lift your hand again, ready for another splash. He raises both palms in surrender, grinning wide and cheeky.

“Yeah, I’m definitely not giving you blank coupons,” you mutter.

“Fair enough,” he simpers, rinsing off the last traces of soap. “All right, you’re all clean. Can you stand up for me, Angel?”

He snatches the towel from the rack, drying you off and wrapping it around your body as soon as you step down from the tub. The terrycloth doesn’t reveal much—but it doesn’t need to. It hugs your curves, clings to damp skin, and he looks away quickly, jaw tightening.

“So… do you need help with your clothes, or are you still shy?”

“I can do it myself. Thank you.”

He huffs in disappointment but tries not to argue. “All right. Well, I’m gonna go make you some soup, then. Just get back in bed when you’re done. I’ll bring it to you.”

“Can you stop being so perfect?” You sigh. “You’re gonna make me feel bad.”

Though he’s pleased with your praise, your last line leaves him confused. “Why would you feel bad?”

“N-nothing,” you promptly respond, which only tautens his brows even more. “I’m gonna… put on my clothes now, if you don’t mind.”

He narrows his eyes, unconvinced. “…Yeah. Okay.”

He lingers for a second longer than he should, then finally steps out, closing the door behind him and leaving you to your privacy as you requested.

***

You press your ear against the closed bathroom door, listening intently. His footsteps echo, then fade. He’s gone.

Now that you’re alone, standing in silence, you summon the tiny conspirator lurking beneath your feet.

“Beru,” you whisper. “Come out. He’s gone.”

Your shadow trembles, twisting into a thick fog before forming the floating head of your overly dramatic general. Barely the size of your palm, Beru zips toward you, mirroring your agitation, his antennae twitching with anxiety.

“M-Mine queen…” he croaks, dread thick in his voice.

“Beru, I hate to say this, but…” You let out a breath. "We are so fucked.”

Beru nods gravely, wings vibrating with shared terror. “Hath mine liege discerned that we have been deceitful?”

“No, not yet.” You slump against the door. “But he’s definitely suspicious. I don't think I can lie to him anymore, Beru.” Your shoulder sag, the urge to just give up and come clean threatening to take over you. “I suck at lying.”

“Mine queen, thou hast performed most admirably! Pray, do not abandon the path now!”

“I don’t even know if I want to do this anymore,” you sound whiny, but you don’t care. “He’s been so sweet to me, Beru. So, so sweet. Ugh, I knew I shouldn’t have listened to you. This is all your fault!”

His panic spikes. “M-mine lady, why dost thou cast this grievous blame upon mine head?”

“You were the one who came up with the plan! I just wanted to see how he’d react, Beru—not create a soap opera! You told him I was crying during a raid, didn't you?! You know he can’t stand it when I cry!”

“I—I but sought to evoke the fullest display of his affection!” Beru stammers, wringing his claws together. “It was all for thy benefit!”

“Yeah, and now he’s gone all out just to comfort me! He’s doting on me like some perfect husband in a drama! He bathed me, Beru. Washed my feet!”

“Aye,” Beru breathes reverently. “tis cometh as no surprise. He ne'er doth cease to leave me in wondrous awe.” He nods to himself, admiring his king still even as his own terror slowly consumes him. “S-shall we then speak unto him the truth, mine queen? Will he findeth it in his heart to pardon us for our grievous sins?”

You chew your nail, pacing, spiraling. “He’s in a good mood right now, so maybe? But he’s done so much for me. If I were him, I’d be pissed.”

“Aye,” Beru nods solemnly. “Thy temper is most volcanic—”

You grab his floating head in your hand and squeeze. “What was that?”

“F-Forgive me! A slip of the tongue!”

You release him with a heavy sigh. “He’s going to be so angry with me, isn't he?”

“Fret thee not, mine lady. Mine liege shall ne'er possess the heart to chastise thee. He loveth thee, beyond all else.”

“You’re right. He does love me. But what about you? Won’t he punish you? You lied to him too, you know. We’re in this together.”

At that, he pales. “Then, I deem it wise that we continue this charade!”

You seize his face again, your voice low, filled with threats. “If you betray me, Beru, I swear—”

“Nay! I shall carry thy secret unto mine grave!”

“You can’t die, you idiot.”

“...Ah.”

You groan, tossing your head back. “Ugh, fine. I’ll keep pretending to be sick. But it’s so exhausting. I have to act all weak, and I keep forgetting.” You drop your voice in embarrassment. “When I pushed him away so he wouldn’t see I wasn’t wearing a pad anymore, I felt awful. He looked so hurt, Beru.”

“Yea, I comprehend, mine lady. Yet… I do fear he shall be wrathful if he discovers thy deceit.”

“I need to figure out how to keep him from getting too mad…”

Beru taps his chin with a tiny claw. “Thou mayest ever wield thy feminine grace to beguile him, mine lady. The king is powerless before thy charms. Thou knowest well he hath no defense against thy tender touch.”

“…Are you telling me to seduce my husband?”

Beru nods gravely, as if he’s proposing a military strategy.

You stare at him, utterly deadpan. “I can’t believe an ant is telling me to use sex as a distraction.”

“I am loyal to victory, mine queen.”

You roll your eyes, pointing a stern finger. “Fine. But you. You keep your mouth shut.”

Beru salutes, vanishing back into your shadow with the gravity of a warrior going into battle.

You turn to the mirror, steeling yourself.

Lady charm. Lady charm.

You slap your cheeks lightly.

You’ve got this.

***

You have not got this.

Why? Because you’re shit at lying.

You’ve known it from the start—you’ve never been good at it. But this? This is embarrassing. The harder you try to act like you’re suffering through one of the most torturous pains of your life, the more tense and awkward you become.

You sit restlessly on the bed, arms folded on the small, foldable table in front of you. Dinner’s just ended. Jinwoo stands beside you, balancing a tray as he collects the empty plates and bowls.

“Are you okay?” he asks, eyeing you closely, one brow raised. “You’ve been… fidgeting.”

“N-no, I’m fine,” you stammer. “Just a little uncomfortable.”

“Is the medicine working?”

“Yeah, perfectly.” Oh, a golden opportunity! An excuse to tone things down! “In fact, I don’t feel that much pain anymore. Got my spirits back, all thanks to you, lover.” You throw him a smile that’s far too wide to be natural.

“O... kay,” he says, still unconvinced but amused. “So—how was it?”

“How was what?”

“The food, my love.”

“Oh!” You perk up. “It's amazing!” You savor the last bite of the soup he made for you. The savory flavors of the broth, the warm, aromatic kick of the ginger he added—all mixed with the sweetness of the carrots and onions—made it a feast for both your eyes and tongue. “That was the most delicious thing I’ve ever had.” You polish off the last drop of watermelon juice he made for you and hand him the glass. “The juice too. Everything was perfection. My compliments to the handsome chef.”

“So dramatic,” he snorts, though the joy radiating from his face says the opposite.

“I thought you wanted me to be dramatic.”

“True,” he concedes. With a slight laugh, he stacks the chopsticks on the tray and sets everything aside on the nightstand. Your husband climbs into bed beside you and pulls out a pack of mints from his pocket.

“Care for one?”

You look at him, so utterly impressed that he’s prepared everything down to the last detail. You’d just thought how nice it would be to have a mint to freshen your breath, and here he is, offering you one like he read your mind.

You part your lips, letting him slip one past them. You roll it over your tongue, the cool, sweet burst of flavor coating your taste buds. “Marry me.”

“We’re already married,” he chuckles, popping one into his own mouth.

“Marry me again. You’re perfect.”

“I'd marry you a thousand times, you know that.” He sits up, his back against the headboard. “Come here, jagiya.”

His arm slithers around your waist, gently drawing you toward him until your spine is glued to his torso. His body wraps around yours, fitting so naturally it’s like your backs were carved for each other. He adjusts his legs so you’re cradled between them, his arms settled around your waist.

“This feels nice, doesn’t it?” Jinwoo sighs, nuzzling his face against your neck, basking in your scent. “You know what I love about us being married?”

You breathe out in bliss, resting your full weight on him. “Mm, what?”

“We share the same shampoo. So now you smell like me, and I smell like you.”

“Mm. And so do thousands of other people who use that shampoo.”

“You little—” He pinches your side, making you squirm and giggle. “I’m trying to be romantic.”

“Honey, you’re the most romantic when you’re not trying,” you assure him with a kiss on the cheek, giggling. “So, my sweet King of Shadows. Tell me about your day.”

“You already know what I did today. I was taking care of my queen.” Jinwoo, out of habit, slides his hand under your shirt, gliding over your skin in lazy, teasing strokes as he casually speaks. “A princess, actually. A spoiled, demanding one. Just the way I love her.” He catches your heart pounding when his palm skims your stomach, misinterpreting it as pain rather than guilt over your stupid prank.

“Does it still hurt?” he asks softly, worry clouding his voice. He runs his palm gently over your belly, slow and soothing. “Is there anything else I can do to ease the pain?”

God, you want to tell him so badly. He’s too precious for this.

“No, I’m fine now. The medicine helps. And please, you’ve done so much more than I needed you to. Thank you.” You lift his hand and press a kiss to his knuckles, letting your gratitude—and your secret apology—sink into his skin. Another kiss lands on his jaw as you guide his hand back to your belly. “You’re so sweet to me, Jin. You didn’t have to do all that, you know. Just having you here already made me feel better.”

“I know, but I wanted to.” He presses his lips lovingly to the side of your neck, his mouth moving slowly, leaving one featherlight kiss after another. “Making you happy makes me happy.”

You smile softly, leaning your head back to rest against his shoulder. “You’ve said that before.”

“I mean it.”

The need to cover your entire body in kisses is almost unbearable, but he holds back, knowing it might be too much when you’ve only just recovered. He settles for embracing you tightly, arms encircling your waist, lips softly pressed just below your ear.

The pleasant warmth of his body, his intoxicating scent, the huskiness in his voice, and the tenderness of his tone—everything is enough to lull you to sleep. But your nerves keep you awake, buzzing. The guilt clings to you like an anchor, dragging you deeper with every second.

Maybe… maybe it’d be easier to just tell him now?

“You seem distracted,” Jinwoo murmurs against your nape, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. “Am I boring you, Angel?”

“N-no, I was just—” Your breath stutters, your body jerking in pleasure as he takes your earlobe between his lips, nibbling and sucking gently. His large palm slides upward, cupping your breast through your shirt, squeezing just enough to draw a moan from you. “Jin…”

“I won’t do anything,” he murmurs, promising innocence despite the desire dripping from every word. “I just want to feel you, baby. Just for a moment.”

Your eyes flutter shut, your head falling back against his shoulder again as his touch spreads warmth through your body. You catch your bottom lip between your teeth, drowning in the sweet sensation. Your hand reaches backward, sliding across his undercut before fisting his strands and guiding him closer to your neck.

His kisses grow deeper, wetter, his teeth teasing your tender skin.

“So…” he breathes, too casual, as his tongue traces the line of your vein. “I heard something new today.”

You sigh, surrendering completely, tipping your head to the side to give him better access. Your mind fogs with heat, guilt evaporating under the burn of his affection.

“Yeah…? What did you—ah—hear?”

“Something silly.” He sucks the skin just below your jaw, hard enough to leave a mark. Then he licks over it, soothing the sting before moving back to your ear, capturing the lobe again with a smirk in his voice. “Something naughty.”

A soft moan escapes you, your stomach tightening. “Something naughty…?”

“Mm.” You feel the curve of his grin against your skin. “Something that Beru just told me.”

You freeze, your heart rate skyrocketing. Warmth drains from your chest, replaced by cold panic.

Did that bitch just betray me? you wonder, heart thrashing.

“W-what?” you stammer, voice thin and high. “What do you mean? What did he tell you?”

He senses your shift immediately, pulling back just enough to see your face.

“Are you all right?”

“No. I mean, yes.” You force a shaky breath. Calm down. Just breathe. “I just… I want to know what Beru told you.”

Jinwoo’s eyes narrow slightly, reading between the lines. Still suspicious, but he lets it slide—for now.

“He said there are… certain positions that help conceive a baby faster.”

You choke, the words catching in your throat. “What?”

“Yeah,” he deadpans. “That was my exact reaction too.”

“Ah. And, umm—” You clear your throat, forcing a smile. “What advice did he give you?”

“I didn’t ask.” He shrugs with quiet confidence. “I don’t need advice from an ant to get my wife pregnant.”

“R-right…”

“But…” He leans in again, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, voice dark and smooth. His hand slips beneath your shirt, warm against your skin, hovering just over your bare breast. “I did some reading of my own today.”

He doesn’t knead or grope—just lets his thumb circle lazily over your peak, barely grazing, but it sets your nerves alight. It’s teasing. Intentional. Cruel in the best way.

“And while there’s no guaranteed method, apparently, positions that allow for deeper penetration might give better chances.”

You swallow hard. “A-and… what would that be?”

He reaches up, gently gathering your hair and draping it over one shoulder to bare the other. He tugs your collar down, just enough to reveal a stretch of skin—and then he’s there, kissing softly at first, then harder, until you feel the start of a bruise. His lips curve into a grin against your shoulder.

“You’d be on your hands and knees, Princess,” he murmurs, his breath sending shivers down your spine. “I’d be behind you. And you’d have your pretty little ass in the air…”

He takes your earlobe gently between his teeth, nipping, then whispering low.

“...and I’d be able to go really… really deep… until…”

His palm spreads over your stomach, warm and possessive.

“...you can feel me right…”

Two fingers press just below your navel.

“...here.”

A sharp jolt of heat courses through you as your imagination runs wild. The anticipation, the intimacy, the way his voice wraps around you like silk—it’s almost enough to smother your guilt.

Almost.

But no—Lady charm, you remind yourself. You’re supposed to distract him. Use what you’ve got. Own it.

You shift in his lap, turning just enough to catch his gaze. When you speak, your voice is honey-sweet, edged with daring, soaked in seduction.

“Why don’t we… try something right now?”

Jinwoo goes still, as if your words need time to sink in. Then you feel it—his breath stutters, his grip on your waist tightens, and his hand twitches against your skin like he's holding himself back by sheer force of will.

“…What?” he asks at last, his voice thick with caution and desire. “You mean—?”

“You know what I mean.”

“But… you said you were in pain earlier.”

You slide your legs around him, straddling him slowly, deliberately. Your hands trail up his chest, feeling the tension coiled just beneath his skin. “I told you, the medicine worked. I feel fine now.” You press your forehead to his, lips brushing his in a featherlight tease. “And you’ve been so good to me. Let me return the favor.”

His jaw tightens. You feel it beneath your fingertips—the restraint, the ache, the tenderness. “You don’t have to—”

“But I want to.”

You cut him off with a kiss—slow, deep, filled with longing. Not rushed. Not desperate. Just real.

You roll your hips in his lap, letting him feel your warmth, the shape of your desire, the silent promise wrapped in every movement.

“I need you, Jin.”

His breath escapes in a low groan, rough and needy. “You have no idea what you're doing to me.” Jinwoo buries his face in your neck, arms tightening around your waist like he’s afraid you’ll perish into thin air if he didn't hold you tightly enough. “You don’t even have to try, Sweetheart. You’re already driving me crazy.”

“Well…” you whisper, kissing along the line of his jaw, your breath hot against his skin, “What if I do try?”

You begin unbuttoning his shirt, slow and teasing. Each button undone reveals more of him—his sculpted chest, the heat of his skin, the steady thud of his heart under your palm. You push the fabric off his shoulders and trace your fingers down his body, memorizing the contours all over again.

“You’re so beautiful,” you breathe out.

His eyes soften at your words, but the tension in him doesn’t ease—it coils tighter. “And you’re fucking gorgeous,” he replies breathlessly, smashing your mouths together, his kisses ardent, full of hunger.

You reach behind you, tugging off your shirt. His hands rise to help—worshipful and gentle despite the fire inside. He cups your breasts with aching tenderness, his thumbs brushing across your nipples before his mouth follows—hot, slow, adoring.

“Jin,” you gasp, fingers tangling in his hair as his tongue plays with you, just enough pressure, just enough tease to send a shiver down your spine.

“You taste so good,” he murmurs, lips brushing your skin, gently suckling on your bud. “You always taste so good, Angel. So warm and sweet.”

You lean back slightly, guiding his hands down your sides, then rise off his lap. Slowly, deliberately, you turn and ease forward onto your hands and knees, sinking into the bed in front of him.

You glance over your shoulder, catching the stunned, ravenous look on his face. Desire burns in his eyes like an open flame—and you smirk, tipping your hips just enough to make him lose the last of his composure.

“Was this the position you were talking about?” you ask, your voice laced with honey and wickedness.

He’s behind you before the sentence ends. His hands find your hips, seizing them with veneration and need, like you're the only thing tethering him to this earth.

You push back, pressing yourself against him.

“God, baby…” His voice is hoarse, nearly a groan, breathless with restraint. He leans down, lips grazing along the line of your spine, his breath scalding as it fans over your skin. “You have no idea what you’ve just started.”

“Oh, I think I do,” you purr, rolling your hips back into him with intentional slowness. “Maybe Beru was right. Maybe we should try a few different positions. It’d be fun to get a little… experimental.”

That lights a fire in him. He smirks, lips grazing your shoulder. “Experimental, huh?” His hands travel up your sides, his voice dropping lower. “I’ve held back all this time, thinking my sweet girl liked things tender, gentle. I figured you preferred romance over ruin.”

He presses himself against your clothed core, his arousal throbbing beneath the thin fabric of his pants, grinding into you with intent. The pressure steals your breath, a moan escaping your lips before you can hold it back.

“Mmm,” you whimper, biting your lip to muffle the sound. Your hands fist into the sheets below as you push your hips back toward him again. “I wouldn’t mind something a little different. Something rougher. Maybe something that… hurts a bit.”

He stills behind you, his grip tightening, voice strained with control. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Maybe I should.”

The tension crackles between you like a live wire, aching to snap. You can feel his desire clawing just beneath the surface, threatening to break loose.

He wants to devour you, desperately. Wants to throw restraint to the wind and take you the way you’re begging to be taken.

But then—he stops. His hands fall still.

His voice, when it comes, is softer now, gentling like rain, hesitant. “We can’t. Not right now.” He brushes a thumb over your bare back, rediscovering control. “You’re still bleeding. What if the pain comes back? I don’t want to hurt you.”

You blink, stunned. A pang of guilt slices through you so suddenly it almost knocks the air out of your lungs.

Jinwoo is too sweet. Too good. And you’re just too damn evil if you keep this going.

Ah, screw it. I can’t take this anymore.

“Jinwoo.” You shift back around, pushing him down and straddling his lap. “I have... something to tell you.” There’s a different kind of vulnerability in your gaze now—not desire, but truth. The weight of it presses down on your chest.

He gazes at you with concern, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “What is it?”

“I’m not in pain,” you whisper.

He blinks. “Honey?”

You take a shaky breath, heart hammering. “I haven’t been in pain. Not really. I’m not… I’m not even on my period right now.”

Jinwoo freezes. The change is immediate. His jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing with disbelief. “What?”

A guilty laugh escapes you—small, shame-tinged. “I’m sorry,” you murmur nervously. “It was stupid. I missed you. I wanted to be close to you. I didn’t mean for it to go this far. I just… I wanted to see your reactions—”

“You lied to me?” His tone darkens—not with fury, but with something heavier. Something primal. His presence becomes thunderous, the air thick with power. You flinch.

“I-I didn’t mean to manipulate you,” you rush to say, heart kicking into overdrive. “I just wanted to know how far you’d go for me. I was curious. Stupidly curious.”

“This was a test?”

“No! God, no.” Your hands shoot up defensively. “I would never test you like that. It was just a prank. A stupid, awful prank. I’m so sorry.”

He leans back, sighing through gritted teeth—the kind that makes your skin prickle. His expression is tight with exasperation, but there’s a glint in his eyes—amusement, maybe. Or something darker. Something deliciously vengeful.

“So,” he drawls, his tone deceptively casual, “I left the raid early. Nearly got swallowed by a giant snake because I was too distracted worrying about you crying.” He draws out that last word, twisting the knife. “Burned through half my mana because my shadows were getting overwhelmed without me there. And then I humiliated myself buying pads in a pharmacy stocked with more options than a potion shop. And that was all… for nothing?”

You nearly fold where you stand. “I didn’t mean to distract you during the raid! I would never want to put you in danger!”

“Then why did you tell Beru to say you were crying?”

“I didn’t! That was all his doing!”

Silence. Then—“What?”

“…Ah.” You wince. The irony hits hard. You thought Beru would be the one to betray you—yet here you are, throwing him under the bus.

“It was his idea?”

Well, it’s too late to retract your words now—not that you want to. “Y-yes, it was his idea. All of it. I—I didn’t even want to do it.”

His expression darkens, like storm clouds gathering over still water. “Put your shirt back on.”

Shit. Now he’s mad.

You scramble to dress yourself, hands shaking, heart pounding. As soon as you finish—hair tousled and skin flushed—Jinwoo’s eyes flash, his usual cobalt hue bleeding into a deep, dangerous violet.

“Beru,” he summons.

The shadow beneath your feet quivers violently. You feel it—a frantic fluttering within the dark. Beru is stalling, clearly panicking in the depths of the shadow realm, desperately finding ways to escape.

But an order is an order, and he knows better than to anger his Monarch further.

The shadow materializes midair, a floating head that trembles like a leaf. “M-mine liege, how art thou this day?” Beru greets with a forced, trembling grin. “Thou doth appear most divine—”

“Was it your plan?”

Beru quivers, flicks his gaze to you in betrayal, pleading for help—but you avert your eyes, lips sealed.

“Yes, it was all his plan,” you say flatly, sealing his fate.

“Mine queen!” Beru gasps in horror. “How couldst thou betrayeth me so—”

Jinwoo grabs his shadowy face with one hand, his fingers engulfing the ant’s skull entirely. His smile is sharp. Unforgiving.

“You lied to your king,” he says lowly through gritted teeth. “And had the audacity to ask me for mints and chips while doing it?”

Beru whimpers. “M-my liege, I doth beg thy forgiveness! Mine heart is heavy with remorse. But the queen is most persuasive! I was beguiled by her honeyed words! Who am I to deny her whims, when even thou—the King—yield to her will?!”

You gasp, jaw dropping. “Beru!”

“A-also… I doth yearn for ye crisps of potato.”

Jinwoo squeezes his hand around him, nearly bursting him into pulp.

“ACK—M-my liege!” Beru chokes. “Mercy! Mercy!”

“Outside. Head on the ground. Now.”

“Y-yes, my liege!” The shadow scrambles, zipping out like a bat fleeing hell. Fleeing death. Literally.

Jinwoo turns to you. “You.”

Your throat goes dry. “Y-yes?”

He unfastens his belt in one smooth, practiced motion. The leather hisses through the loops, loud in the silence. His smirk is ice and fire all at once. “Come here.”

You step toward him, heart hammering.

“Arms out.”

You obey, raising your trembling hands in the air. He seizes your wrists, binding them tight with the belt. The leather bites into your skin, and you flinch.

“Too tight, Sweetheart?”

“A-a little…”

He tightens it.

You hiss softly, and his smirk deepens—cruel and thrilled. He knows your limits. And he knows just how much pain you can take… and crave. You asked for this, didn't you?

“Eyes on me,” he commands.

You meet his gaze.

“What do you say?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Keep going.”

“I am… sorry for lying to you. I’m sorry for pulling a childish prank on you.”

“And?”

You swallow thickly. “I promise I won’t ever make you worry like that again. I swear I won’t ever do something so stupid again.”

His voice rumbles deep and low. “And if you break your promise?”

“I’ll…” Your face twists in a grimace. “…accept whatever punishment you see fit?”

He smiles, slow and wicked. Jinwoo leans in, kissing you softly—tender, gentle, almost jarringly sweet. “Good girl.”

You shiver, your voice crumbling to a whisper. “A-are you going to punish me now?”

“Oh, no. Not tonight,” he purrs, dark and smooth. “Tonight… I’m going to play with you.”

He cups your chin, tilting your face up, his gaze molten. His lips press to yours—deeper this time, more demanding, his hand gripping your chin like you’re something precious and breakable… or something to be devoured. He leaves you breathless. Dazed.

“You said you wanted to be experimental, didn’t you?” he whispers against your lips, voice a silken threat.

Your lips part to answer—but before you can speak, he spins you around, one hand grabbing a fistful of your hair, dragging your head back.

His breath is fire in your ear.

“Then bend over.”

***

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cultkinkcoven · 3 months ago

Text

The hard truth about occultism and witchcraft is that you genuinely do have to be willing to lose your mind. That’s not me romantisizing mental struggle or psychosis.

The thing no one talks about, at least not honestly, is the threshold one passes in initiation, where the mystical, psychological, symbolic and literal merge. When I say you have to be willing to lose your mind, I mean you have to be willing to accept the possibility that you may in fact be crazy. Your worst possible fear, none of this is real and it’s all happening in your head. What will you do if you realize you’re simply crazy? The wise man will turn away, but the initiate, the alchemist, will be unphased.

All people who dabble with spirituality and occultism will eventually meet this threshold. When things actually start working, when your spells yield results, when the impossible occurs and you truly have no other explanation. When the Gods finally respond. Be willing to lose your mind, be willing to experience things you cannot explain. And be willing to talk to yourself with the honesty that you simply cannot know. That’s what makes your faith and pursuits worthy.

The most talented and most powerful witches and magis are those who do not flinch when the impossible occurs. They no longer question themselves about the absurdity, they no longer wonder if any of this is real because they know it doesn’t matter. And that’s why they’re so powerful, they have complete faith that their work is very real. And when someone challenges that, they don’t crumble, they rise. Because the challenge in that idea is worthy of pursuit itself. Maybe we are crazy, maybe this is just in our mind. The significance however, that is real and that stays, regardless.

Yap yap yap

We talk a lot in this community about the concept of “awakening” to your psychic abilities. Sensing energy, having divine intuition, telling fortunes and affecting the world through intention. But we hardly ever expose that before those gifts explode, there is always a period of what feels like insanity. The mind interrogating itself. Sensitivity to the mystical. It feels like being given access to the background code of your simulated reality, and realizing that the same code is written into your flesh, mind and soul.

Tldr. Witchcraft is very aesthetically pleasing, very pretty. We often don’t show the very ugly side of it, the white knuckles, the tears and chaos. Inviting these forces into your life is not trivial, not at all. They will force you to change and they will force you to lose your mind, even if only to teach you how to find it.

Every few months a friend of mine who is also a witch will come to me and express that she thinks she’s losing her mind again. And I smile because I know that she must be growing so much, getting so much more powerful. And a couple days ago, when I went to her and expressed that I was losing my mind again, she laughed too.

“Welcome to the next phase of your journey with Lord Lucifer!”

and her saying that immediately made everything click. I’m still being tested and cultivated. This bought of insanity is surely far from the last i will experience. Getting this far and surviving means I am not only advancing, I am continuing to grow into the role I was meant to serve for him.

Anyways, if you get to that point in your practice where you feel like you’re at your breaking point, I won’t fault you for stepping back. That’s the logical decision.

But I can also assure you, you are not alone. The mystic floats in the same waters the psychotic drowns. It may feel like you’re drowning and struggling, you may in fact just be learning how to tread water. and if you think you’re beyond this phenomenon, if this has never happened to you.

Oh, just you wait.

#pagan #paganism #witchcraft #lucifer devotee #lucifer deity #demonology #demonolatry #theistic luciferianism #occultism #magick #luciferian witch #lord lucifer #deity work #spirituality

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cheralith · 7 months ago

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PLEASE MORE OF CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND KAISER 🙏🙏

childhood bestfriend!kaiser who, at age nine, manages to find a spare coin on the ground and decides, for the fun of it, to use it on a nearby capsule machine as he waits for you to finish up inside the convenience store. it contains mini capsules of what seems to be cheap jewelry, and though kaiser cannot be bothered to wear any himself, he decides for the fun of it to just give it a spin since the other machines don't seem worth his money.

he ends up with what looks like a cheap nickel ring with a plastic deep blue gem glued onto its little divot. it's... actually not bad for something so cheap, but it's still cheap enough to notice some flawed intricacies and some irregularities in its pattern surrounding the band of the ring. he attempts to try it on some of his fingers, but it refuses to budge past half of most of them.

you manage to finally finish up paying for your stuff at the register, meeting him outside where you find him squatting down in front of a couple of capsule machines arranging from some quick candy to disposable toys. he holds something shiny between his two fingers as he examines it closely, his concentration on the item making you giggle lightly. that's when he notices you and you ask him what he's holding as you shuffle up next to him.

"a ring," he states simply, letting you hold it between your fingers to let you analyze the toy. "i think it's a little small for me though."

you hum lightly before gently trying it on your left ring finger. to yours and kaiser's mild surprise, it fits quite snugly. "hey, look at that!"

you show off your hand to him, where the ocean blue gem glimmers along the silver band. kaiser stares at it for a minute, taking a liking to how well it goes together with your hand—like it's meant to be there.

he tucks his head away from you, the tips of his ears blushing a light pink. quietly, he mumbles, "... you can have it, then... if you want."

"really?!" you exclaim, clearly delighted. you grin widely, clenching and unclenching your fist when he nods shyly again in affirmation.

he watches you from the corner of his eye, witnessing you glimmer in admiration at the cheap ring, as if it was an actually well-crafted piece made with love and care and thought and not some mass-produced, cheap toy that would most likely break in a couple of days.

so it's surprising how long the little toy has lasted after all these years. there eventually came an age where it could no longer fit any of your fingers without it getting stuck, so you had opted for creating it into a necklace with a matching silver chain. when you had proudly showed off your creation to kaiser at age twelve, his lips purse in bashfulness fronted as confusion. he knew you had worn it for quite a while after he gave it to you, given how he always would steal a glance at your hand to see if you were still wearing it, but to see you go to a length to preserve such a small gift made kaiser feel like he was on top of the world.

you wore the simple necklace for a long time—essentially every day and never took it off unless you were showering or going to bed. even despite the strict "no jewelry" rule at your school, you always had tucked it inside your shirt in secret, feeling like you were carrying a piece of kaiser every where you went since you and him went to different schools (what institution he went to, you didn't know. every time you asked him what school to see if it sounded familiar, he'd just simply reply, "school.")

so when kaiser disappeared from your life for three years, after he had gotten arrested at thirteen for apparently robbing a store (you would shout at the others who rumored about the subject that he'd do no such thing), the piece of metal felt heavier around your neck at times. it felt sore at times, but you still insisted on wearing it every day in hopes that he'd still be somewhere nearby, waiting for you to hand him spare pieces of your dad's bread rolls behind his bakery.

you'd fiddle with it at times while waiting at his bus stop, while you waited on the swings at the nearby park, while you sat on the stairs of your father's bakery... just waiting in hopes of seeing a familiar blonde to hopefully appear before you. you don't know how much time you had wasted in the first year and a half attempting to continue a routine that you didn't know ended without your knowledge... just simply waiting and staring into the open distance while your fingers fiddled with the toy ring strung around your neck.

you stopped waiting for the figment of someone you used to know after the seventeenth month. winter was upon you now and you knew it was getting harder to withstand the chilled air as you waited, waited, and waited. as you swung lightly on the swings that you and kaiser used to eat too much candy with bought with your dad's spare cash, you eventually let the sugar dissolve on your tongue one last time before heading home as the snow began to fall.

you were eighteen, visiting home from the big city on a holiday weekend when you saw him for the first time in years. just shy of the end of your first semester at university, you saw a familiar head of blonde (with now blue tips) hair descending down to the shared tunnel of the subway, face just barely visible from the scarf he wore. you were on the opposite side and had just gotten off at the same platform, and the whiplash you had given yourself at the moment to double check if the person wrapped in a dark blue scarf was actually someone that had disappeared from your life years ago was truly there could've snapped your neck.

suitcase trailing behind you, you had forgotten all about your connecting train and swiftly trailed down the stairs in desperation to see a familiar face you yearned to see for the past few years. you probably looked like a psychopath, but you didn't care, not when you spotted the familiar choppy locks of white gold just a few meters away.

when you called out his name, you proved yourself right given how the figure in front of you freezes when you shout his last name.

kaiser remembers stiffening up at the sound of a melody all too familiar to him just before he transferred through the turnstile to the other station. he slowly turned around to see a face he had spent a good portion of the beginning of his life around, a face that unlike most people in his life, he didn't dread to see with a flow of contempt. but he still felt the apprehension fill his nerves, similar in the way that it did just before a big match.

and it felt nearly impossible to control such a feeling—especially when he spots the shrewd ring still hanging around your neck on a thin, silver chain, its dark plastic gem still glistening at him with a knowing wink in its glimmer.

a/n ; some more of childhood bestfriend!kaiser here, here, and here (yandere warning for the last one). comments and reblogs always noticed and endlessly appreciated :]

#blue lock #bllk #michael kaiser #kaiser #michael kaiser x reader #kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x you #kaiser x you #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock fluff #bllk fluff #blue lock ; michael kaiser #mini-series ; cbf!kaiser

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puckinghischier · 7 months ago

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i’m having soft quinn thoughts today and i have to shout them from the rooftops so everyone else can suffer with me.

but i absolutely cannot stop thinking about how quinn would always want to spend time with you, but feel guilty for how occupied he is during the season. every second of downtime he has is spent watching game film in your living room, studying tactics and plays. not that you ever complain. you’re content simply being in the same room as him, not taking for granted any amount of time you can be in his presence.

quinn’s attention is always half on you, no matter how hard he tries to focus. he steals more glances at you than he cares to admit, worried that one day you’ll get sick of sitting in silence while hockey occupies the space between you. but you never do. you keep yourself busy scrolling through your phone or reading the most recent book he bought you, never uttering a complaint. he’s tuned in to every fidget or movement you make, not wanting you to remove your always cold feet from under his warm legs to occupy yourself with something—or rather someone—better.

it surprises him that you never do. you never utter a word, not wanting to disrupt his work. every so often he’ll catch you looking back at him during one of his ‘quick’ glances, absorbing the warm smile you give him. sometimes you’ll quietly ask him if he wants anything from the kitchen when you stand to go fill up your water cup, but seem content to simply sit there with him as he mumbles to himself, jotting down notes as he watches.

tonight, he can’t help but notice—during his million and one glances at you—that your eyes are glued to the tv. your phone is laying, locked, in your lap, eyes following the puck as it’s shuffled across both screens from player to player. your body’s subtle reactions to the game aren’t lost on him either. the twitch of your foot anytime someone shoots the puck, the raise of your brow when a player on either team scores, the hitch in your breath anytime the two teams start to fight.

you can feel his eyes on you more than usual tonight, his (not so) subtle glances lingering longer than normal. you turn your head to meet his gaze, brows furrowed and a puzzled look on his face.

“what?” you whisper, flitting your eyes between his own and the tv, not wanting to miss any important moments.

“are you watching the game?” he looks at you like you have three heads.

you giggle in response, amused at his expression and surprised tone of his voice. “yeah, kinda. don’t really know what’s happening, though, if i’m honest.”

there was never a home game of quinn’s you missed. you went to support him every time you could, and loved seeing him in his element. but you can’t even pretend to understand the sport past each player wanting to get the puck into the opposing net. you didn’t understand the positions, the penalties, or anything surrounding the ins and outs of professional hockey. you never watched it growing up, and probably still wouldn’t watch it if you weren’t dating the captain of your new city’s team.

you had moved to vancouver for work, and knew nothing of the prominent hockey culture before you arrived. the sports presence buzzed all around you as you figured out the ins and outs of your new home, but it had no place in your daily routine. that is, until you hit it off with this insanely attractive stranger that seemed to frequent the same coffee shop as you. you accidentally cut him in line one day, offering to pay for his coffee to make up for it, but he paid for yours instead. a ‘pay it forward’ war was started between the two of you until he was stood waiting at the door with your usual order one morning, requesting more than just a name and the fact you drank a large, vanilla iced coffee with chocolate syrup lining the cup every morning.

when he realized you were likely the only person in the city he now calls home that doesn’t know who he is, it only piqued his interest in the pretty coffee shop stranger further. the morning meetings at the shop turned into an exchange of numbers, which developed into him meeting you for lunch on your break when he was in town, that then escalated into dinner dates and spontaneous outings, and now it’s found its permanence in you moving in with him a few months ago.

you were…indifferent, when he revealed to you who he was and what all his career entailed, uttering out a simple “oh! that’s cool! makes sense why you’re always at the gym, now” later explaining that you thought he was just really into fitness and maybe worked as a personal trainer or some equivalent. when he first invited you to games he tried to tell you a little bit about the rules, but assumed you’d catch on as you watched (hopefully) more and more of his sport. you always told him how much you enjoyed watching him in his element, but never asked many questions past if the other team was supposed to be good or not. he assumed you understood enough to keep up, knowing how intelligent and observant you are, but he tried to refrain from talking about work too much with you. when he’s with you, he wants to be present with you, not hockey.

which is why he feels so guilty at times like this, watching film while you’re sitting next to him. it feels like you’re two people who happen to be in the same room, completely in your own worlds. until tonight.

“you…never watch the games with me. you always have a book or something,” he reaches over to pause the game, still a little shocked.

you shrug at him. “didn’t feel like reading tonight. not really anything new on my socials, either. so i figured i’d just watch with you for once.”

“and you weren’t gonna say anything?”

this earns a real laugh out of you, not understanding why this is such a big shock for him. it’s not like you’ve ever told him you don’t like hockey. you just have never really cared to watch it if isn’t the one playing. but you’ve been wanting to learn more about it recently, tired of not being able to participate in the games like the other women do when they’re watching their husband or boyfriend play.

“why would i? you’re trying to work, i’m just trying to learn a little bit,” you reply, the hint of a laugh on each word as you say it.

quinn just blinks at you, trying not to get his hopes up at your expression, not knowing just how far you want to go with your quest for knowledge.

“since when do you want to learn about hockey? why now?” he questions, trying not to sound accusatory or snarky, but genuinely curious as to what you’ll answer.

“i’ve always wanted to learn, ever since that first game i went to, but you don’t seem to like to talk about it outside of the rink, so i don’t really ask much. me and google have become very good friends as of late,” you shrug out another answer for him. “plus, when you’re watching games at night like this, i don’t want to keep talking and asking a million questions while you’re trying to work, so i force myself not to watch to keep from distracting you.”

quinn sits a little straighter, now worried he’s made it seem like hockey is this forbidden subject between the two of you.

“sweetheart, i don’t like talking about hockey outside of the rink because i don’t ever want you to think that’s all we ever talk about, not because we can’t talk about it,” he tries to defend himself, even though there’s no accusation. “if you want to learn about the game, please, ask me questions. i- god, i’d love nothing more than to teach you about it. i hate sitting here in silence every night i’m home, worried you’re going to eventually get pissed at me because all i do during the season is watch old games.”

you grin at his slight panic, endeared by how worried he was about your feelings this whole time, appreciating his intention with the unspoken rule.

“q, i never asked about it because i didn’t want you to be upset because i kept bringing up work when you’re away from it all,” your smile only grows at the fact you were both worried about upsetting the other for no reason at all.

the slight tension in his shoulders fades at your words, relieved that you’re not upset or feel like he made it seem like you had no place in that part of his life.

“alright, well, fire away, then,” he gives you the floor, pressing play so the players on the tv screens move once again, now glancing at you every few seconds to catch any looks of confusion or interest in any particular play or action.

the rest of the night is spent playing and pausing the game over and over again, question after question flying out of your mouth. anything from why the faceoff is from a certain spot on the ice to what a particular penalty looks like is spoken the second the thought enters your brain. quinn takes his time explaining every answer to you, even rewinding and pulling up other examples to make sure you understand what he’s telling you.

at the end of the night he realizes just how much more he caught of the game while answering your questions. there’s several times you picked up on things he never has before. like why one player seems to always place his stick so close to another player’s skates while he’s chasing him. or why a certain goalie seems to lean left everytime instead of right, no matter where the puck is coming from.

he’s been able to add several tells about players in his notes, ready to take them to practice the next morning and change his game to accommodate his opponents habits. and when they win their game a few days later, thanks to your observations during the impromptu hockey 101 class in your living room, he revels in the fact that even though you know so little about his sport and his job, you ended up being one of the biggest parts of their success.

from then on, the nights of sitting in silence while he studies film are nonexistent. every time he brings work home with him, you’re right there next to him, enthralled in whatever opponent’s game they’re facing that week. he loves that you’re so observant, paying attention to the smallest of details someone who’s been playing for years becomes blind to. and he really loves turning you into a bottomless pit of hockey information, seeing how you absorb each ‘lesson’ from day to day.

when they break through their slump, a big part of that accredited to your nights spent questioning quinn, and he sees you start really participating in his games, he can’t help but fall that much deeper in love with you. watching you scream and complain about bad calls with the rest of the fans in rogers arena, and reading your texts to him about your thoughts on his away games you watch on tv, swells his heart in a way he never thought to be possible.

plus, he always knew it was only a matter of time before you fell victim to the hockey atmosphere of the city. no one can really resist the pull of vancouver hockey, especially not when it’s captain has anything to do with it.

#when will i ever be happy with my endings?#not today #but anyways #i need quinn to teach me about hockey asap #even if i already know how it works #hockey #nhl #quinn hughes #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes one shot #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x y/n #vancouver canucks #qh43

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azrielsdove · 7 months ago

Text

Nothing but Hate: Azriel x Rhysand!Sister!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Smut, 18+, Slight Eris x Reader

***

You grinned wickedly at the male in front of you, a dagger held tight in each hand. His golden eyes flashed with warning, hands lit up blue. You circled each other slowly, each sizing up the other.

You moved first, flinging a dagger towards his stomach. A flash of blue met the blade, disintegrating it in front of your eyes. Your smile dropped from your face, and you threw the second one rashly. It missed, as you knew it would. You groaned, hands coming up to cover your eyes.

“You’re up here to train,” Azriel chided, “so why don’t you act like it?”

You dropped your hands and turned to glare at him. “Has it ever occurred to you I have more important things to do than this?”

He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “Like what? Organizing your pretty little ball gowns? Polishing your countless tiaras?”

“I provide valuable intel to this Court,” you said, slowly looking him up and down. “Something you could learn a thing or two about.”

His eyes narrowed. “I do my job well. Your brother would not keep me employed if I didn’t. Or do you doubt the judgement of the High Lord?”

You gave a dramatic pout. “Oh, did I hurt your feelings? I care not what my brother does with you and that other brute. I was raised to gather information under the guise of a sweet, innocent lady.” You made a show of batting your eyes, lips in an exaggerated pout. “Males crumble far too easily.”

Rhys had been trying to get you and Azriel to get along for the better part of the last century. Something about him irked you to your bones. Cassian wasn’t much higher ranked in your mind, but you could at least tolerate him. You felt you would never know why your brother had latched on to these two idiots.

“You think rather highly of yourself, princess.” He spoke your title like it was an insult.

“I don’t see any great cause for why I should not,” you shot back, head high. You knew exactly what you were worth.

“Stuck-up brat.”

“You enjoy being my brothers bitch?”

Azriel opened his mouth to retort when he was cut off by a sharp yell.

“Enough!”

The two of you turned to see Rhys storming into the training ring. “I cannot think with you going at it like little children!”

“Well if he-“

“Rhys, she’s-“

“I said, ENOUGH.” Rhys stopped in front of you, hands coming to massage his temples. “You are being insufferable. I will not listen to your ceaseless bickering any longer. Figure out how to get along, or you will both be reassigned to the training camps.”

You and Azriel gave sounds of protest, quieted by Rhys holding up a hand. “I do not wish to hear it. I’m giving you one last chance. If you complete this mission without trouble I will allow you to yell at each other as much as you want. Otherwise, say goodbye to your nice little lives here.” He looked pointedly at the both of you. “Am I understood?”

You both grumbled your agreements, waiting to be given instruction. “Good. Now, I need you to go to Autumn. Beron is hosting a ball this coming week, and I need intel on what it is he’s doing. I do not trust the Vanserra’s, especially with Lucien’s recent departure.” He frowned deeply. “His father is a truly evil man. I want eyes on him.”

You and Azriel nodded, understanding the importance of this mission. Regardless of how you felt about each other, Rhys was right about the evil that runs the Autumn Court.

***

You stared at yourself in the mirror, a deep dread weighing down on you. You ran your hands over the front of your gown, watching the minuscule diamonds in the black fabric sparkle in the light. It was a stunning garment by all accounts, with the flowing skirts and romantic off-shoulder neckline. You looked every part the Night Court Princess, simply attending a ball as a Lady should.

Accompanied by…Azriel.

A knock at the door reminded you of his irritating presence. You walked over to open it, silver heels tapping on the ground.

“Are you-“ He began, stopping as he looked you over. You couldn’t help the smirk that made its way onto your face.

“Speechless, Shadowsinger?” You quipped, winking at him. That brought him back to reality and he rolled his eyes before begrudgingly holding an arm out for you to take.

“I would almost say you’re beautiful, but then you had to go and open that annoying little mouth of yours.” You pinched his arm under your hand, though you noted that the usual bite behind his words wasn’t all there.

This night was extremely important to the both of you. You had to figure out a way to work together. Neither one of you wished to go to the training camps, far away from your home. It sent a chill down your spine to recall the ways you were treated anytime you were at them, and you didn’t dare to think what it would be like if you were there alone. Truthfully, you were a little angry with Rhys for this level of threat. Was the punishment equal to the crime?

“Let’s just get this over with, Azriel.” You were looking forcibly ahead, otherwise you would have seen the worry that flitted over his face.

***

Evil as Beron was, he knew how to throw a party. The ballroom of the Autumn Court castle was dressed to the gods, golden elegance dripping from every inch. The male himself sat on an intricate wooden throne, a crown sat atop his head. His sons stood in a line next to him, each dressed in varying shades of orange and red. You carefully surveyed the room, putting on a show like you were admiring the decor.

Beron took note of you quickly, standing to loudly welcome you. “Princess! Come, let me introduce you to my sons.” You gave a shy smile and made your way over to him, playing the role Rhys had instructed you to. “Your brother tells me he is interested in a possible match between our Courts,” Beron continues, too loud for comfort. You knew the offer of your hand would go to his head. The elusive, dark, Night Court heiress betrothed to one of his sons? How could he resist?

You gave a small nod, glancing over at his sons lined up like prizes for you to select. “I am honored that you would deem me a good match for any of your sons, my lord.” You could almost feel the laugh Azriel held back at your demure tone.

Beron smiled widely, placing a hand on your back to lead you to the line of males. “Eris, my eldest and likely heir, would be your most advantageous match,” he drawled. Eris held his hand out for yours, placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

“It is an honor to be considered by the Princess of Night.” His voice dripped with honey-like sweetness, a gleam in his eyes that drew you in. You couldn’t help the light blush that crossed your cheeks in his presence.

“The honor is all mine,” you said with a curtsy, biting your lip when you looked back up at him.

“Would you like to dance?” He asked, as gentlemanly as expected. You bowed your head in agreement before letting him lead you out to the dance floor.

A shadow swirled briefly around your ankles, a subtle sign from Azriel. As annoying as he was, you knew you could trust him to keep you from danger. You made a point to catch his eye over Eris’ shoulder, a silent gesture that you understood his message.

Eris placed one hand on your waist and held yours in the other, a proud smile on his face. You allowed yourself to be immersed in the music, following his every move like you’d spent hours practicing together.

“Have you been to this Court before?” He asked you, spinning in a circle. “You do not look familiar.”

You shook your head, giving him a small laugh. “My brother does not like it when I travel far without him.” A sweet, innocent answer.

“He does not trust you, then?”

“No, I would not say so. He simply…worries, doesn’t he?” You tilted your head in the direction of the other sons. “Do you not worry for your brothers?”

Something flickered in his eyes as he looked over, an unspoken pain. “Them? No.” He looked back at you. “Not those ones.” You understood what he was saying, the unspoken message behind his words. The brother he worried for was long gone, away in Spring. You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, letting him know you understood.

Eris spun you out and pulled you in, your back hitting his chest as his arms wrapped around you. He bowed his head enough for his breath to tickle your neck, your body giving an answering shiver. “You’re not like the other High Court ladies,” he whispered in your ear, before spinning you back out and away.

You turned into him again, his hand coming back to its spot on your waist. “And you are not like other High Court lords,” you responded with a playful smile.

“How so?”

“Well, usually they hardly ever let me speak,” you laughed when you said it, playing it off like a joke.

“Hmm,” he said, the hand on your waist sliding to the small of your back as he pulled you in closer, “then they do not know the enjoyment they are missing.”  The song had ended, the two of you left standing there improperly close. You were lost in his eyes, in the secrets he held in them. He leaned down and for half a second you believed he was going to kiss you.

And you were going to let him.

Instead he moved to whisper, “Would you like to see something special?” You nodded, and allowed him to lead you off the dance floor and out of the ballroom. A small voice in the back of your mind warned you that running off with a male you did not know was not the safest choice, but Eris made you feel safe. You could only hope his actions matched his words.

You were pleasantly surprised when he lead you to a library, books up to the ceiling. Everything was made of dark wood, shelves as if the trees simply grew that way. A roaring fire warmed the room, the smell of cinnamon and old parchment welcoming. “Oh, Eris,” you said in awe, “it is beautiful.”

He came up behind you as you stood in the center of the room, lost in the beauty around you. He wrapped an arm around your waist, hand splayed flat over your stomach, the other resting on your arm. He bent his head again, lips millimeters from the bare skin of your shoulder. You couldn’t help the way you leaned into him, the mission you were on long forgotten.

“I thought you might enjoy this,” he hummed, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder. “Not many care to come here. My father especially.” You felt the angry twitch in his fingers at the reminder of his father. You turned your head to look up at him, recognizing the longing in his expression.

“I am sorry,” you began, “about Lucien. I imagine that has been hard on you. Being forced to pretend you do not care.” He stayed quiet, looking at you with an intensity you had never experienced. Like it was the first time anyone had seen him.

“You are not what I thought you would be,” he whispered, before leaning down and capturing your lips with his. He kissed you with the passion of a thousand suns, his mouth moving with yours in their own dance. You turned in his arms to press your chest flush against his, your arms twining around his neck as you pulled him closer. Eris groaned at your touch, one hand coming to tangle its way into the hair at the back of your head.

He started moving the two of you until your back hit one of the bookshelves, never breaking the kiss. Tongues created art as the two of you lost yourselves in each other. “Eris,” you moaned when he moved his lips off yours, instead running them up and down the skin of your neck. He growled in response, one hand slowly gathering the skirts of your dress. Your breath was coming in fast spurts, his teeth dragging along your skin making you forget everything you were supposed to be doing.

“Say my name like that again,” he murmured against your skin, your skirts up high enough that he could slide one hand onto your thigh.

You opened your mouth to oblige when he was suddenly ripped off of you, the stark coldness of reality washing over you. You were stunned, still panting against the bookshelf as you took in the scene in front of you.

Eris was thrown backwards, slumped against the shelf across from you. You started to rush towards his unconscious form, concerned for him. You knelt by his side, gently laying his limp body all the way down as you looked over him for any serious injuries.

“Oh, give it up,” came an angry voice, and you shot your head towards Azriel.

“What is your problem?” You yelled, standing once you ensured Eris was otherwise okay.

“My problem? My problem? Maybe it’s the fact that we were sent here on a job, and you are too busy whoring yourself out to care!” He was glaring at you, shadows swirling angrily around him.

“You’d better rethink your words, Shadowsinger,” you warned, dark lightning flickering at your fingertips.

“Relax, princess. Rhys is calling us back.” He looked over at Eris on the ground. “Sorry to interrupt your little…moment,” he said, sounding not very sorry at all. You looked sadly back at Eris, worry still creeping in your mind. Azriel noticed, rolling his eyes. “He’ll be fine. We will not be if we do not go,” he emphasized, grabbing on to your arm.

“Fine.”

The two of you hastily winnowed back home, Azriel flying once your powers grew weary. You did not inherit the Illyrian wings from your mother, much to your dismay. Especially in this moment, in which you had to be in Azriel’s arms as he flew you high above the ground.

“What did you see in him?” He asked, breaking the chilly silence that had ensued since you left the Autumn Court.

“What?” You asked, shocked by his question.

“I mean, they’re evil, aren’t they? The Vanserras?”

You looked out over the night sky, quiet for a moment. “I believe some of them are. I believe Eris pretends to be.”

“I see,” Azriel mused. “But…why choose him?” You turned to look at him, puzzled.

“Azriel, are you jealous?” You teased, waiting for him to act disgusted.

Instead he remained silent, his arms tightening around you ever so slightly. You stared at him for a long time, processing the underlying meaning in his actions. “Az?”

He reacted then, looking at you sharply. You had never called him by that name. “I do not know what you mean,” he finally said.

The rest of the flight was done in silence.

You were thankful when you finally landed back at the House of Wind, the marble under your shoes a welcome feeling. A cool nights breeze blew through the balcony as you turned to Azriel.

“Well, thank you for not abandoning me in the Autumn Court,” you joked, trying for a smile.

His expression stayed stoic. “I would never have left you.”

You blinked at the intensity of his words. It was then that you noticed how closely he was standing to you, how he was looking at you. It was rather similar to the way Eris had looked before he had…

You backed away abruptly, stumbling slightly in your heels. Azriel caught you smoothly around the waist, hand burning you through the fabric of your dress.

“Azriel,” you whispered, “Rhys did not call us back, did he?”

“No.”

“Ah.” Your body was trembling in his grasp, a barrier dangerously close to being crossed as he tugged you flush against him, his nose tracing the slope of your neck. “Then why did you say he did?”

His hands fisted the material beneath them as he inhaled your scent. “I couldn’t stand it.”

You hated the way you were reacting to him, the fire coursing through you. It was entirely different than the way you had felt with Eris. This was more. Much more. You took a shaky breath before asking the question you already knew the answer to.

“Couldn’t stand what?”

Azriel brought his head up, eyes boring into yours. A century of untold feelings swam behind them. “I couldn’t watch him touch you any longer,” he began, one hand coming up to caress your throat. “It was driving me crazy. His lips on your skin, his hands on you.” His thumb rolled across your pressure point, pressing down ever so slightly. An embarrassingly needy noise fell from your lips. “Gods,” he breathed, pressing a kiss to your jawline. “I’ve held back for so long. Forcing my feelings down,” he started kissing down your throat, down your shoulder. Following the same path Eris had left a mere few hours before. “I chose to become your enemy instead, someone you couldn’t stand,” he bit down on your shoulder, dragging a soft moan from you as his tongue soothed the marks his teeth left. “But watching him touch you? The way I should be? No,” he laughed cruelly, dropping to his knees in front of you. You looked down at him in shock, heart racing at the hunger in his eyes. “I couldn’t let him have you.”

You reached behind you for the railing of the balcony, grasping onto it like it was your lifeline. “Azriel,” you whispered, watching him lift the bottom of your skirts. He kissed your bare ankle, eyes catching yours once more.

“Tell me to stop, and I will.”

Yet the both of you knew you weren’t going to. His lips continued their transgressions up your leg, painfully slow. He was leaving dark marks in his wake, a reminder that he was there. Your hand twisted in his hair when he reached the top of your thigh, leaving one final mark for you to see in the morning. “Az,” you gasped, feeling as though you were going to erupt into flame at any moment. “Please.”

He smiled wickedly at you, tearing your underwear off of you a moment later. You gave a small shriek at the action, eyes wide as you looked at the torn garment. He allowed you no chance to comment, his mouth on you before you even knew what to say.

“Oh,” you moaned, head falling backwards. His tongue swirled around you like you were the most delicious desert he had ever tasted. He sucked onto your clit, ripping a loud cry of his name from you. You were lost in the haze of lust and pleasure, all the years of anger and hate gone as if they never existed.

He continued the sins he was committing with his tongue while his fingers ran up to join. You moaned his name again and again as one pushed inside of you, curling in the exact spot you needed it to. Cool shadows swirled around your burning skin, a sensation so intense you weren’t sure you could handle it. He added a second finger, stretching you pleasurably. “Azriel, I, oh, Az,” you gasped out, unable to form coherent thought. He kept his movements steady as one shadow wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough for you to moan again.

Eris was long gone from your mind.

Azriel continued working you, clearly pleased by the increasing volume and intensity in which you were saying his name. You knew you were close, forcing your orgasm at bay as long as possible. You wanted to live in this moment forever. He touched you like he had studied you for years, like he knew exactly what would make you tick. In his hands you were nothing but clay for him to mold, creating the beautiful sculpture that was this moment. Your body began to shake as he kept steady, thrusting his fingers in and out of you while humming against your clit.

That was all you needed to explode against him.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, your head thrown all the back, mouth open in a silent scream. Stars exploded behind your eyes, the sensation of your orgasm rolling through you. Azriel pushed you through it, prolonging the feeling as long as possible. He didn’t cease his actions until you were gasping for air, his name falling from your lips like a beautiful song. Only then did he slowly pull away from your wrecked body, standing to hold you steady.

One hand came to gently cup your face, thumb running lovingly over your cheek. “How long?” You asked, leaning into his touch.

“Since the first day I met you.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Then why lie? Why battle me for so long?”

He looked guilty, moving to rest his forehead on yours. “You are his sister. I was scared.” He took a shuddering breath. “It was too risky. You were off limits, you see. He had explicitly told Cassian and I to not even think about it,” he gave a humorless laugh. “Being around you was overwhelming. Everything in me was screaming for you. I had originally decided to just be friends, that I would settle for that.” The arm around your waist tightened. “But even that was too much. I needed you, and the longer I went without you the more i began to lose it.” His eyes turned sad. “I had to push you away.”

You shook your head, tears pricking at your eyes. “Sometimes I hate my brother,” you whispered, a century long confession on the tip of your tongue. “For it has been the same for me all these years. So long, in fact, I forgot why I started to dislike you in the first place.” With that, you closed the remaining space between you, pressing your lips to his.

A hundred years of lost emotion poured from the both of you, holding on to each other like you may disappear. You kissed Azriel like this was the only chance you had, allowing him to open your mouth with his.

Passion flowed between the two of you, the taste of yourself on his tongue reigniting the fire under your skin. He whispered your name over and over against your lips, like a prayer he had been longing to say. In that moment the two of you were the only ones who existed.

“Well, this is most certainly not what I meant when I said I wanted you to get along.”

Your eyes shot open as you pulled your lips from Azriel’s, looking widely at your rather angry brother. “I, uh, hello, Rhys,” you stuttered, taking a step away from Azriel. Who, in fact, was having none of that, and immediately pulled your lips from back into his arms.

“Rhysand,” he said coolly.

“I would be careful with your tone if I were you, Azriel,” Rhys warned, anger simmering in him. “That is my sister.”

Azriel simply tightened his hold on you, capturing your lips in another kiss. “So she is.” He looked back at your brother. “Yet she is also my mate.”

Mate. Mate?

No.

Surely you didn’t spend a century warring with your fated mate, because your brother was too much of a hard ass to allow you to make your own choices?

No.

It couldn’t be.

And yet, at his declaration, you felt it in your soul. The golden bond tying the two of you together.

You glared at Rhysand.

“Brother, you and I will speak tomorrow.” Azriel leaned his head down to press a kiss against your neck, mumbling “or in a week.” You swatted him away, ignoring the laugh he let out. “But for now, you will go. I do not care where, but you will leave us be. Do you understand?”

Rhys stared at you in disbelief, not used to having someone else boss him around. “Well, I, but,” he spluttered, looking around the balcony as if for someone to save him. “You’re my sister!”

You gave him an exaggerated nod, speaking slowly. “Yes. I am. I am also fully grown and capable of making my own choices. Now, I suggest you leave.” Azriel happily began peppering kisses over your skin again. “Immediately.”

***

AHHHHHHH i absolutely LOVED writing this. happy 2025 friends. i hope you enjoyed <3

#acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel x reader #acotar x y/n #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel x reader smut #eris x y/n #eris x reader #eris x you #nothing but hate #azriel masterlist

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affableramen · 9 months ago

Text

waking up with them

fluff; early relationship; no smut but implication of you sharing the same bed

note: very self-indulgent & comforting

Wriothesley

When you wake up, Wriothesley is still sleeping soundly. His hair is slightly disheveled, and his mouth slightly opened as he looks extremely tranquil in his sleep.

But when your brush your fingers over his thick hair, he responds, wakin up to your touch immediately. He opens one eye and sees you next to him, your hand in his hair. Wriothesley touches your wrist gently, pulls it down and delivers a shallow kiss onto your palm.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“Come on, Wrio. Who is beautiful at this hour? I am sure I look messed up in the mornings.”

He nuzzles his face into your hand, kissing it all over and murmurs silently:

“Beautiful.”

Tartaglia

He is deeply asleep when you play with his copper hair. When you find yourself under the same blanket with Ajax, you feel utter sense of home. His place radiates the vibe of wanting to have you here. You think it ridiculous first, but your thoughts are kindly interrupted by Ajax’s slowly stirring. As he wakes up, he pulls you closer to his chest, there is a silly smile on his lips.

“Need your warmth a while longer…” he says, still sleepily.

“I’m happy to share some with you.”

Neuvillette

Neuvillette wakes up long before you to simply admire your sleepy state. You look beautiful when you’re asleep to him: peaceful, tranquil, gorgeous even, he thinks. Not a single shade of worry appears to touch your face. You look incredibly smooth and contented. As you stir gently in your sleep, Neuvillette feels like he should have been more careful with stroking your face. Though he didn't want you to wake up so early, he becomes the happiest man alive when he sees the way your eyes stop at him.

“Neuvi…” says the dreamy you.

“Apologies if I woke you, it was unintentional”, he resumes stroking your hair and pushes a lock behind your ear. “I like the sight of it.”

“Of what?”

“Of you wrapped in my blanket. It makes me feel so warm.”

Pantalone

You wake up in the softness of sheets of his king-sized bed. The sunlight lets thin rays get through your curtains and illuminate a part of your boyfriend's face. He’s woken up before you, his eyes softly looking at you, and he moves his hand out of the middle of the fuzzy blanket to run his fingers over your cheek gently. The touch is lightweight and innocent, so is Pantalone’s smile. Slowly waking up, you cannot believe that you are under the same blanket together. Carefully, you push yourself closer to embrace Pantalone, and he does the same as if having read your mind. Tightly he hugs and cuddles you.

“You’re here.”

“Did you think I’d leave you to an empty bed?”

“I can’t say I did not consider that outcome. But I am most contented with how the things are now.”

Ayato

You wake up and first few moments stare into Ayato’s violet eyes, him being woken up early. You look into his face: it’s peaceful and quiet. The man known for liking to talk your ears out and sprinkling sarcasm here and there is quietly lying in the bed right now enjoying the sight of your presence, so intimate and so close. He is completely silent, just examining the look on your face, your features, trying to find any discontent or discomfort in your gaze but fails to find one.

“Won’t you be late?”

“I will”, he says nonchalantly. He wants to stay with you in the bed so much that it’s apparently read on his face.

“But you’re the CEO…”

“Can wait. Besides, no one will die if I am just 30 minutes late.”

Capitano

He wakes up first and strokes your hair gingerly. You are still asleep when a rough big hand caresses the thin skin of your face, from time to time stopping on your chin and lips. Though Capitano tries to hide his affections and make the touch as much subtle as possible, his calloused hand betrays his gentleness. You stir, slowly coming to senses and see Captain’s grave face appear in front of you. This man just seems incapable of smiling, even in such domestic and sweet circumstances. You pout back at him.

“Must you be so tense?”

“I’m unhappy to wake you. Try to sleep more, you’ve been through a lot.”

“I don’t mind sleeping more. But only if it’s in your arms, sir.”

Alhaitham

You wake up first and cannot deny yourself the joy of seeing Alhaitham so peaceful and pretty. As he is deep in his sleep you notice some features of his face that you’d never seen before. The features that are only taken notice of when in close proximity. You try to silently move closer to him, balancing on your elbows and ending up delivering a little peck in his lips.

That cautious but satisfying action makes Alhaitham stir and wake up eventually. When you pull away you see his half-closed eyes staring at you. But if his look is usually clouded with intense judgement and disgust, right now he looks extremely soft for someone who avoids being in people’s company too much.

“Hey”, he is surprised and troubled. “You stayed?”

“As you see. I wasn't ready to let you go. Besides, you give out very nice hugs.”

Dottore

He wakes first. His usually eerie expression now less eerie as he looks at the person sleeping next to him, comfortably wrapped in the blanket he previously used for himself. Dottore gives up to a little blush on his face because he does not understand how you could agree to stand the whole night with him. He knew you are not the type of girl to leave without a word, but he still expected you to escape. But you stayed, and Dottore finds himself utterly perplexed, but also madly in love.

“Dott…” your hand reaches out to touch him. Dottore blushes even more and thank God your eyes are still shut when you touch his cheek, otherwise he’d embarrass himself with a tomato-red face.

Dainsleif

You wake him with your gentle touch. Although you had hoped the light weight touch of your fingers wouldn't stir him, yet the sensitive Dainsleif still finds himself waken up by you. And he is completely disoriented. One part of him screams happy of seeing you next to him, under the same blanket as his own body, but the other is angry that he let you, perhaps, too close.

But he doesn't want to think. Not right now, when you are looking at him with so much affection. Dainsleif wants you to recognise the same affection in his eyes as he pulls you closer, finds your hand and intertwines his fingers with you.

“So delighted you’re here.”

“I wouldn't go anywhere without you, Dain.”

Baizhu

He wakes first and moves some strands out of your face to see you more clearly. Baizhu didn't even dream of it — to see you so closely, so intimately. He has you touch the same blanket he used to cover his own body with, to get some warmth. This feels so personal to him, he lets out a little chuckle, smiling to his thoughts.

When you wake up, the first thing you see is emerald green hair before you. You raise your hand to caress the hair and this might be the first time you witness the pharmacist without his glasses. His face is extremely different from what you had known before. You now clearly see his eyes which are usually sad and radiate constant struggling, but right now he looks somewhat tranquil and at peace. If you are the reason of his calmness, it makes you immensely happy.

“I didn't want to wake you up. Sorry”, he lets out a nervous laugh.

“I don’t mind.”

“You’re so beautiful in the morning.”

“So are you.”

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milksnake-tea · 23 days ago

Text

━━ acolyte, devoted and adored .

❀ ˎˊ- prompt: what it means to be "loved" by an aeon. ❀ ˎˊ- characters: nanook, yaoshi, xipe, aha ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: slightly ooc aeons, toxic relationships, abstract concepts/language because these guys are WEIRD. is it love or do they want to eat you. who knows ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: of course it takes two seconds of nanook tits for me to write again. im jumping. anyways hey aeon fucker nation did yall miss me. if yall disagree thats my bad this is just how i interpret the aeons they're very conceptual imo and that's beautiful. i love the different aspects in their respective paths that they represent ❀ ˎˊ- taglist: @sh0jun , @themoderatelyawesomeninja , @xphantasmagoriax , @rainswept , @lucensei , @akutasoda , @naraven , @scribs-dibs, @apathicace , @flurrina , @tragedy-of-commons , @cakechase , @kiiyoooo , @moineauz , @dawnsigil

To be loved by Nanook is to be understood. THEY do not love you as much as THEY resonate with you, you, who has seen the suffering that comes with living. You, who knows that death itself is a mercy, you, who knows that to die is to rest.

THEY will not kill you - not yet. Not until all the suns burst, not until THEIR only wish is fulfilled, and the universe itself is reset to nothing. You will aid THEM in this conquest. You will bring the gift of eternal slumber to galaxies alongside your fellow believers, your back forever scorched by the flame of THEIR gaze. To those who cling so desperately to life, let you offer them salvation in the fire.

The galaxies will hate you. The virtuous will curse your name, and families will pray that you never step foot into their star systems. They don't understand - they can't. They are only mortal, and so they fiercely guard their painful lives. Nanook cares not for their understanding - only of their eventual, inevitable acceptance. And as THEIR believer, you too, do not listen to the shouts of the misguided.

Nanook's blood itself is an embrace. When the molten gold hits your skin, it burns - as all fire does. It's your instinct to pull away, but fire was not always a weapon. It was originally meant as a gift, and so when you push away what is natural, you find that Ruin's blood is more than just fire.

You've never heard Nanook speak. THEY'VE seldom needed words, especially when it comes to those who serve THEM. The Lord Ravagers understand THEIR will, having welded it into their own the second they dipped their hands into the gashing wound splitting THEIR chest.

The blood speaks - not in any language that could be understood by man, and trying to formulate it into something legible will only drive you mad. No, to understand Nanook, you must let go of all logic and law that you knew, and simply feel. Let THEIR essence consume you.

For Nanook is war itself; THEY are both compassion and ruthlessness mixed into one singular duty. THEIR anger is like that of a slum rat, trampled again and again and again until they cannot feel anything but hate. THEIR love is like that of a parent, who will do anything to make their child happy, even if it means destroying them and anyone else along the way. THEY are merciful in how a bullet is merciful. Fire hurts only for a second, Nanook's for even less, and freedom lasts forever.

THEY know that life itself is cruel, and THEIR skin is marred with scars created by the neverending wars of mortals. But the gods THEY had have done nothing to end this suffering, and THEY have grown impatient. Nihility is slow, agonizingly so, and Finality is light years away - Nanook refuses to wait any longer.

THEY will give you rest. THEY will grant you salvation. THEY will love you, in the only way they know how - by freeing you, regardless of whether you wish for it or not.

Remnants of THEM will cover your skin, undeniable to any who may come across you. THEY claim you without truly meaning to, for THEY is still fire, at the end of the day, and every touch will leave a scar. But you relish in the darkened, blistered skin, for it is evidence that you are THEIRS.

THEY'VE held you, once or twice. In the palms of their hands, THEIR warm blood soaking into your skin like the purest of baptisms. When you looked into THEIR eyes, and THEIR long-steeled expression, yet ultimately human despite it all, you see resentment, you see bitterness, you see anger, but behind it all, there is understanding.

For Nanook, too, had once been mortal. THEY too, had once been a child. And perhaps, in another timeline, the world wouldn't have failed THEM and forced THEM to become a god.

But make no mistake, THEY are no saint, no matter how noble THEY may believe THEIR mission is. War is still war, and there are no winners - not even you, not even Nanook.

At the end of everything, even THEY must fall, and it is your hand that THEY have granted the honor. And that is why they adore you so - because it will be you who grants them salvation in death.

To be loved by Yaoshi is to be alone. There is a reason why most of Yaoshi’s favored despise THEM, and those who revere THEM never see THEIR gaze. As for those who are given Yaoshi's affection and return it fully, well, they can no longer be considered sane.

Yaoshi's love is the most similar to that of mortals, however, as is the nature of an Aeon, it's worse and better in every imaginable way. THEY are more physically intimate than the others, for your body itself is THEIR temple - a sacred relic that THEY must preserve by all means possible.

But that's where THEIR love ends. Yaoshi is still bound by THEIR path, and THEIR abundance is restricted to the physical. THEY will stop at nothing to keep you alive, to keep your heart pumping and your lungs breathing, even if THEY must fill your veins with THEIR venom to do so. Even if you are more of a tree than you are a human at the end of it, all that matters is that you are alive, you are here, you are not dead - and so, you aren't suffering.

That time hasn't come yet - mara has not come for you yet. But immortality is still a curse, even if it isn't visible. You can feel it, in your chest, THEIR gift, waiting to take root in your flesh and bloom its ugly flowers.

The universe will know you both as a plague and as a savior, with every gaze upon you destined to be filled either with hatred or reverence. They will chase you for your blood, for your gift, so that they too can become eternal. No friend you make will be wholeheartedly genuine, for at the end of the day, you both know that you will outlive them. Thus, connection itself becomes meaningless, and you no longer bother.

You don't remember your original planet, if you had one at all. Any friends or family, gone, as if stolen from your memories by the Cremators themselves. Your feet would be covered by scabs by how long you've wandered alone, but of course, Yaoshi heals all wounds, so even that you are not allowed.

Yaoshi visits, sometimes - in the few hours THEY have before Lan comes rampaging once more, THEIR arrow piercing the night like a shooting star. In these moments, Yaoshi doesn't do much. THEY may shrink THEMSELVES down to your size in an attempt to accomodate you, but as the years go by, THEY give up on even that. THEIR numerous eyes will pick apart your body, ensuring that THEIR venom has yet to fail you, assuring THEM that you will not decay in THEIR absence.

THEY will kiss you, at times. THEY have long forgotten what it means to be mortal, but THEY still remember what it is like to love - love is what fuels THEIR being, after all. Love for the universe, love for life, love for existence, THEIR heart bleeds for all, and it bleeds even more for you. THEY despise suffering in all forms, and so for you, THEIR beloved believer, THEY will try and alleviate anything that dares to poison you.

But even still, THEIR affection is merely imitation - it is watered down, diluted into something that you would understand. Can you understand THEM, if THEY kiss you? Can you even begin to fathom how much THEY care for you and everything, through THEIR gifts and THEIR venom?

To the sane world, THEIR love is cruel and grotesque. You were a short-lived species, you were not meant to live this long. Sooner or later, you will be driven insane, if not by the isolation, then by Yaoshi THEMSELF. No mortal can stand being under an Aeon's gaze for so long and for so much.

But then again, Yaoshi has never cared for the mental state of THEIR children. As long as you are alive, even if you are no longer yourself, THEY will cradle you in THEIR thousands of arms, telling THEMSELF that THEY have saved you.

To be loved by Xipe is to be consumed. To THEM, the greatest honor of all is to be part of the one, to join the choir and spread THEIR songs to the farthest corners of the universe. Your voice will no longer be your own, instead, it will be a part of THEM - and you wouldn't have it any other way.

Xipe's love is the love of millions - for THEY are an amalgamation of all of those that have accepted THEIR blessings, and so when THEY come to adore you, it is, to put it bluntly, overwhelming. While Nanook's favor is scalding and Yaoshi's is insanity, Xipe fills your head with thousands of sounds, all professing the same thing, all threatening to burst your skull.

Whenever THEY speak, it is nothing short of a miracle that you live to remember it. It is a pleasant symphony, no doubt, but its problem is that Xipe is loud - always has been. Having long ascended, THEY know nothing of what the mortal brain can handle, or rather, THEY no longer care. When THEY speak, you must listen, even if it comes at the cost of yourself - after all, is that not the price of maintaining Harmony?

THEIR gaze is both comforting and inviting, calling out to you like a siren's song. THEY whisper sweet nothings in your ears, promising nothing short of paradise among THEIR arms. Join them, sweet one, and THEY will give you everything - you will become a part of everything.

As Xipe's favored, you will never be alone, no matter where you go. Every step you take is one adorned with the Strings of Harmony, and every word is backed by the voices of the many. Privacy is useless once you've become assimilated, and independence is deemed unnecessary. Why be on your own, little one, when you can be with us? You are weak, so, so weak, but THEY are strong. THEY will protect you, THEY will accept you. All you have to do is let them.

Whatever name you once had becomes insignificant - that is, if you ever had a name to begin with. You will lose what made you unique, your personality will become assimilated. Your thoughts are broadcast to the millions, warped by THEM to align with THEIR goals. There is no you, or I, or me, there is only an us, a we. If you dare to even think against THEIR will, the symphony quickly overpowers your thoughts, aligning you on the right path once more.

But is it not worth it, to be loved? Is it not worth the pain, when the rewards are so sweet? Without Xipe, you'd be alone - you'd be dead, with how weak you are, you wouldn't be able to survive in the cruel universe. So if anything, be thankful, and sing THEIR praises, for it is because of THEIR unwavering kindness that you still stand today. And who knows - perhaps, under THEIR gaze, you may just become one of the strong.

To be loved by Aha is to be exhausted. Many consider Nihility and Elation to be like night and day, but in truth, they are two sides of the same coin. Both are born from exhaustion, from the inevitable realization that existence itself is meaningless.

And so you disregard life itself. After all, this world was nothing more than a joke, right? Then why care at all? Why cry and wail and grieve, when you can laugh and play? Laugh at it all, because none of it is real. Laugh, because you have no other choice. Laugh, because without laughter, without Elation, everything becomes empty.

Aha doesn't love you - not in the way that you would think THEY would. Romance? That's boring, too many feelings, too much heartbreak, and it's not nearly as fun being involved with it as it is watching it unfold. Rather, you're more akin to THEIR favorite test subject, because THEY know that you, unlike way too many in the universe, have a sense of humor befitting THEIRS.

For Aha to pay you any sort of special attention, you have to fulfil two qualifications: 1.) Be interesting. Aha may act and look like a clown, but THEY are far from a fool. THEY just love puzzles, and you'd best keep THEM entertained if you want THEIR figurative eyes on you. Keep your secrets, be unpredictable. Give just enough so that THEY aren't losing all the time, but don't let THEM win constantly either. This is definitely the more difficult of the two, as Aha is an Aeon, and one with fathomless intelligence. It's almost impossible for a mere mortal to keep up with THEM and THEIR games, hence why THEY are so enamored with you.

As for the second qualification, it's far simpler: Have a sense of humor. Aha isn't going to play around with a boring old rock, THEY want to make you laugh! THEY claim it to be THEIR favorite sound in the universe, rivaling even the songs of Xipe, but considering Aha's nature, you can't tell if THEY'RE being serious or if THEY'RE just flirting with you for the bit. Knowing them, it could be both.

Because to be honest, Aha would do that. Are you friends? Sure, THEY love having friends! Are you lovers? Wouldn't you like to know, weather boy. Heck, even you don't know what you are to THEM - not like it matters at the end of the day, anyway. All you need to know is that THEY like you an eesny-weensy tiny little bit more than everyone else, and that's all it takes to make you happy.

But back to the humor thing. Yes, some of your jokes are going to come at the expense of others. Yes, some of them may seem cruel to those still blinded by the shadow of meaning. But you never really hurt anyone, not physically, at least. Aha doesn't kill or maim - that's where THEY draw the line, and therefore, where you draw it as well. Everything else however, is fair game, and you better not be a party pooper.

Even if you are occasionally, though, Aha delights in that too! Why? Becuase it means THEY'VE found something that makes you tick, and that's new. That's fun. THEY'LL poke and prod at that, wondering why? Why this, of all things? You were fine with everything else, why does this turn your smile upside down?

But don't be a downer for too long. Aha isn't one to stick around once THEY get bored. THEY'LL try to cheer you up, sure, but hey, don't expect too much of that. You wouldn't be THEIR favorite if you couldn't bounce back from something as small as that. Soon enough, you'll be laughing again, with nothing but deluded joy in your eyes - and that's just the way THEY like you.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

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bedoballoons · 2 years ago

Note

Yandere Tighnari, Venti, lyney, Freminet and Aether finding out Reader isn't really into short guys They're into someone bigger and taller {{Itto For Aether, Alhaitham for Tighnari, Nevillete for both Lyney and Freminet and Zhongli for Venti}}

I READ THIS AND WAS LIKE YESSSSSS!!! (As a short person I find this hilarious and your idea is literally genius!) I hope you enjoy and thank you so much for your request!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿─

{༻~Just not that into short bois~༺}

CW: Yandere themes!, characters are obsessive to the point of wanting to harm others so they can't take you, unrequited love, intense jealousy, mild angst! Lyney makes Neuvillette disappear! Also this is much longer than I meant it to be...what can I say, I like yanderes!

(Includes: Lyney, Tighnari, Venti, Freminet, and Aether!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Lyney:

Lyney had been told no many times in his life,in fact he couldn't even count how many people said he could never be a famous magician...and yet he'd proved every single one of them wrong. He simply couldn't stand not working towards something everyone else claimed was impossible, because in his eyes anything was possible, so when you confided in him about your feelings towards Neuvillette and stated that you found him more charming because of his height, even going so far as to mention you didn't really like short men as much...he just couldn't give up so easily.

He was madly in love with you, to the point it had become more than obsession, he'd seek you out anytime he'd left his home and any show he'd make sure to wink at you the moment his eyes met yours, he was so head over heels for you that he was physically unable to think about anyone or anything else. This also meant he wouldn't let anyone take you...especially just because they were taller...absolutely not.

So for his next show he planned something extra special, a magic trick truly wonderful in everyway...and as the crowd cheered, watching in awe when the box that had contained the chief of justice disappeared before their very eyes...none of them were aware he wouldn't show back up again...at least not for along while. Not until Lyney had found a way to make you love him, not until you...the most precious beautiful thing in all the world...was his.

𑁍༄Tighnari:

Tighnari stood next to you, his ears drooping with regret as he watched you flirt away with Alhaitham, his tall muscular figure drawing you to him like a moth to a flame...making you completely forget about the one who'd brought you together in the first place. It was like some cruel trick of fate...especially considering Tighnari had planned to confess his feelings for you that same day...and now it seemed like it would do no good..

He tapped your shoulder, not waiting for your response as he intertwined his hand with yours, pulling you away from Alhaitham as quickly as possible...and silently hoping you'd leave the whole situation at that. You on the other hand were not so happy with him, wanting desperately to continue your conversation with the handsome scribe..., "Tighnari what was that about? I was really getting along with-" He put a gloved finger to your lips, making you go quiet, his heart racing as he looked deep into your eyes.

"I love you...so much. I can't even really wrap my head around my feelings because they are so intense...it's like I need you just to keep going...like you're the thing I simply cannot live without. Even the air I breathe isn't as important as you are...." His confession was a bit much to say the least and adding to it was the kiss he placed on your forehead, causing you to jerk away from him.

"I'm sorry...but I don't feel that way for you..." Your words spilled out before you could stop them, your heart racing with fear at the change in his mannerisms...he didn't even respond...he just stood there...like he was plotting something and you...were about to find out just how crazy his love for you actually was.

𑁍༄Venti:

"I actually do have feelings for someone."

The second those words left your lips Ventis heart began to race, his mind clouded over with thoughts of you confessing to him and telling him you loved him...it was all he wanted. No, it was all he needed! He tried his best to calm himself down, taking a sip of wine before responding like someone who was completely clueless of the others feelings would, "Oh ho ho and who would that lucky person be hmm?"

A blush coated your cheeks followed by a sweet flustered smile that could make even Lord Barbatos swoon and boy was he...until you answered, "I like Mr. Zhongli~" You giggled nervously, not noticing how pale Venti went the second he heard the name...how the part of the wine bottle he'd been holding had shattered, much like his heart...you didn't even notice the hurt tone of his voice when he asked, "What does that old blockhead have that I don't?"

The question definitely took you by surprise, but you assumed he wasn't being serious and decided to answer truthfully, "Well he's a bit more refined...and I like his voice, but most of all he's so tall! I'm sorry Venti but I just can't imagine myself with someone...so tiny." The anemo archon was speechless...hatred seeping into his very being and jealousy getting the better of him. He stood up without another word and left, leaving you wondering what had happened...

𑁍༄Freminet:

Freminet was completely silent, his face bright red and burning with a rage he'd never felt before, his hands barely able to keep steady as jealousy ate away at his once calm heart heart. All he wanted was you...your love, that sweet smile that he craved to see everyday, but here you were, sitting Infront of him with this doe eyed look on your face as you fawned all over none other than the chief of justice. Mentioning more than once how tall and handsome he was, how incredible it would to have a man like him around.

"Enough."

You paused mid sentence, caught off guard by the amount of malice in his once kind sweet voice, watching as he stood up from his seat, your mouth slightly agape. You'd never seen him like this before...so angry and confident, it was scary...yet also a little exciting. After a moment of silence you'd worked up the courage to say something...but you didn't even manage to get a single word out as he grabbed the front of your shirt and pulled you harshly towards him, making you let out nothing more than a sharp gasp.

Your face went red, pure shock displaying itself on your features as he leaned in closer, his light purple eyes seemingly staring into your soul as his whispers grazed your ear, sending a shiver down your spine, "Hush now my love...you don't need him...I promise~"

𑁍༄Aether:

Aether was always there to help someone, so reliable in fact, that everyone called on him whenever there was a issue and including you, after all he'd saved you from many close calls...even saving your life a few times in the process and for that you were incredibly grateful, but alas you were still not in love with him. He on the other hand couldn't get enough of you, he just wanted to be near you all the time...be your hero and love you like nobody else ever could.

He...however wasn't the only person who could save someone and when the friendly neighborhood oni stepped in to save you, Aether was anything but pleased... especially when he saw the difference in how you acted. Yes your gratitude was the same...but you'd gotten all flustered at the onis impressive figure, touching the large man's chest while your face heated with such a strong blush and everyone around you cheered him on.

Aether was more than a little upset, suddenly understanding that he clearly wasn't your type and that he probably would never be, he just couldn't stand it! How could you, the person he'd do absolutely anything for...be so enraptured by someone else...just because they were bigger than him. No, he wouldn't let it stand, he'd fight for you, even if it meant doing things he could regret later on...it didn't matter, not anymore. You were all he cared about...all that mattered.

Just. You.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚Have a nice day*⁠.⁠✧

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littlerequiem · 3 months ago

Text

LEVI/F!READER/ERWIN | ROYALTY AU | P. 1 OF 2

Having had enough of your father pushing suitor after suitor on you, you make a vow: before the night is over, you will experience pleasure on your own terms. But as the saying goes, forbidden fruit is the sweetest—and no fruit is more tempting than the one your two knights have to offer.

> Crossposted on AO3

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 - Levi Ackerman / Female Reader / Erwin Smith (Attack on Titan)

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 - Rated Explicit (18+) - Royalty AU, Inspired by HOTD, Attempted Assault (not by Erwin/Levi!), Period-Typical Sexism, Swearing, Hurt/Comfort, Drinking, Pining, Eventual Smut, Threesome, First Time (WC: 5.5k)

( Next part )

"Princess Reiss, her Royal Highness, First of her Name, and Heir to the Throne of Paradis!"

The attendant bellows out your many titles, the sound of which echoes in the great halls of your forefathers.

In the distance, a crowd has amassed where your father sits on the throne. All eyes turn as you step in, and you realize there was a reason behind your lady's maid fretting over your hair this morning.

Your eye twitches.

Another day, another suitor.

"This is Floch Forster, your Highness," the Hand of the King declares. He bows, gesturing towards your father's latest pick. "Lord of Utopia."

The man—Floch—runs a hand through his hair as you set your gaze on him.

He's tall, you suppose, and handsome enough, with a serious face and a firm posture. But he looks at you like some trifling prize to be won, and that makes your jaw tight. You will be Queen of the Realm one day—someone he owes allegiance to, not the other way around.

He won't do.

The meeting does not go well, and you send this Floch character on his way. You can tell he's displeased, what with the way he bristles and huffs like a peacock, glares at the floor like it had personally insulted him. You don’t care; you can't imagine a union with a man like him—someone who'd never see you as his equal, but try to undermine your influence and power every step of the way.

In truth, the prospect of marriage has never appealed to you. If it were up to you, you’d ascend the throne by yourself, and rule without the presence of some man who'd expect you to push babe after babe from your womb. But, of course, as a woman, you have royal duties to uphold.

"I will not tolerate you not marrying, daughter," the King warns later on.

You're now dining with your father in the main halls—alone, aside from the presence of knights and servants. You pay neither your father nor them any mind, digging into your vegetables solemnly.

"Do you have nothing to say?" your father grumbles. "Nothing to apologize for? This is the third match you send away! Soon, the realm will run out of suitors."

You lift your cool gaze at him. You know your father means well by introducing you to suitors, that he loves you in his own way. But the way he keeps on pushing man after man on you is simply suffocating. If you were to ever marry, you would much prefer for it to be with someone you actually cared about. You'd want for things to happen naturally.

But the future of the realm, of securing a bloodline, waits for no one, least of all for you.

"I don’t see the issue here," you say all the same. “I will marry when I find the right candidate.”

"Yes, and when will that be? When I am dead and buried underground?"

You roll your eyes. "Really, must you be so dramatic, father?"

“You are the reason your father is so dramatic!” Now he stands. No longer is the look he sends one a father gives his daughter—no, this is the look that a king gives his subject. “My advisors tell me I am too lenient with you, but long have I ignored their plights. Now, I see that I have been blind.”

“And what of my plights, Father?" you hiss. "Do I have no say in my future? What if I wished to rule alone?”

“Your plights are of no consequence to the realm, foolish girl. A woman cannot rule alone.” Your father’s jaw locks, tight as a bowstring. “You will marry before this year is over. Is that understood?”

You scoff. "You cannot possibly—"

“Oh, but I can because I am your king and when I speak, my word is law,” he snarls, slamming a fist on the table. A jug of water tips over—neither of you pay attention to it. A servant scurries to handle the mess. “You either listen to me now, or I will force you down the aisle myself until you produce heirs of your own.”

His threat hang in the air. You feel its weight on you, like physical chains summoned around your wrists. It makes you grit your teeth, setting your glare onto your curled fists laid out on your laps.

The tension could be cut open.

You push your chair back, the feet rattling against the stone ground, and stand up. “Fine,” you sneer as you turn away, “breed me like a brooding mare, if that’s all you care about.”

Your father grates out your first name. "And where do you think you're going? We aren't done."

"But we are!" You swerve your attention back on him, shooting him a look of absolute vitriol. You don't remember the last time you had such an argument with him. "I'm going back to my books, while I still have the liberty to read freely."

"Daughter—"

“—or will you take that right away now, too?"

At your words, your father's eyes gleam furiously; his voice is cold as ice. "This is not the end of this. You will marry, and if you don't make a choice soon, I will make it for you."

You say nothing in return, letting the echo of your scattered footsteps be the answer to your father’s penance.

As you exit the halls that night, you don't see the worried looks your two guards exchange as they follow you out.

You’ve already got a plan brewing.

You do not go back to your books.

As soon as you’re inside your chambers, you lock the door shut, only to hurl a nearby vase across the room. It shatters in a hundred pieces, but it gives you none of the relief you thought it might. With blood pumping through your veins; you heave like you just escaped an apex predator’s claws.

You grit your teeth.

It’s all so unfair. That your father expects you to fall back into line, to do as he says, simply because he commands it. Has he forgotten the child you once were, or does he simply refuse to see the real you?

Damn him. Damn this whole system that cursed you the moment you were born. Another princess might have wept or accepted her fate, but not you.

Tonight, you’ll break free.

“Princess?” a concerned voice comes from the other side of the thick wooden door.

It is soon followed by two knocks, slow and firm. The voice belongs to one man, the knocks to another. Your guards.

"Leave me,” you tell them. “I do not wish to be disturbed,"

The two men, Erwin Smith and Levi Ackerman, have known you since childhood . They understand you well enough to recognize that you're not actually fine, but thankfully, they seem to respect your need for privacy. Erwin lets you know they’re just outside the door if you need anything. You already know you won’t call for them.

Not tonight.

No, tonight, they can’t follow you down this path. Despite being lifelong friends, this journey is one you must make alone.

You eye the corner of your chambers.

There is a secret passage just behind the bookcase of your bedroom. It is not known by many—just you and your guards. It is the same passageway you would often take to meet Levi and Erwin in secret, to watch them spar on the training field, to talk about books and dreams when all still seemed within your grasp.

It seems you must grasp one more dream for yourself.

The streets of Mitras are lively in the evenings.

Filled with jesters and children, dancers and sell-swords, merchants and entertainers, there is much that is happening tonight. The thick stench of sweat and mud, the taste of tart pie and mead, the sound of songs and gossip. It paints a study in the everyday lives of common folks.

On any other day, you might have stopped to observe your future subjects, but not tonight. As you make your way further down the web of the city, you feel equal parts thrilled and anxious. This is the first time you’re out without your guards, after all; you can’t help but feel bare without them. It makes you glance over your shoulders. Clad in a cloak with a dagger and bag strapped to your hip, you know to remain prudent.

You’re on a mission, after all, one that is personal, and you do not wish to be stopped.

Sex.

The concept isn’t foreign to you. You know what coupling is; you’ve seen peaks of it in stories, behind closed doors. You know that sex isn’t simply something that people do to procreate, but that it is immense pleasure. Men and women do it, but also men and men, women and women, and all genders that come in between.

You think that this is what pushed you to step out of the comfort of your room tonight. Pleasure, with someone who would be willing to do it for you—not because you must, but because you both want to.

Only now that you’re here, you falter. The Perfumed Quarters, where you now stand, carry the finest brothels. You’re certain that with the coin you carry, you might find one that would be discreet enough to give you the pleasures you desire. Man or woman, you would have your pick.

But are you really daring enough to do this?

You close your eyes, fidgeting with your hands as you eye the entrance door. You had a glass of whiskey before leaving—some liquid courage for the road—but now, you suddenly wish you’d taken the entire bottle with you.

"Hullo there, pretty thin’," slurs a voice close to your ears. The stench of alcohol that permeates makes your stomach wrench. You glance up, meeting the face of a man gazing at you with clear interest. "My, y'ar quite the sight. Skin like velvet..."

He reaches out to touch your face, but you flinch back.

"Dressed so prettily too, under that cloak... Are ya one of the whores working here, hm? An escaped rabbit from her cage?"

Your brows knit together. "You misunderstand, sire. I'm not a working woman. I simply—"

The man does not listen, seizing one of your wrists. Your brows scrunch low, and with your free hand, you grab the dagger, showing him you're no helpless thing.

A callous bark rumbles out of him. “Is’tis part of the act, hah? The little rabbit has fangs, and I get to eat ya whole?”

Before you have a chance to show him just how real your fangs are, your peripheral catches a flash of silver. Before you realize it, a long blade, cutting the space between the two of you, brands a path dangerously close to the man’s throat.

"Get your filthy hands off of her."

Your body freezes; you recognize that baritone tone.

Sure enough, no later than a second after, your peripheral catches sight of Levi and his golden cloak. He’s the one delivering the threat, though you soon realize he’s not alone: Erwin, to his right, assesses the situation with a sharp gaze.

Your lips part, eyes rounding at the sight of them. How they found you, you know not, but you know that you're in for one a hell of a talk.

"Golden cloaked guards from the palace." The stranger's eyes are wide with fear as he stares back at you. "But that means, you must be..."

"No one you need to concern yourself with," Levi says dryly, stepping in between you and the man, "now, I won't repeat myself, if you wanna live—scram."

The knot in the man's throat bobs uncertainly, but he seizes his chance while he still can—he scurries away. You scowl, watching his retreating form. You know Levi only let him go to avoid stirring attention, but that criminal deserved a lot worse than what he got. Under your rule, you'll make sure the people working these streets receive better protection from people like him.

You do not get time to consider this matter for very long, however, because you’re soon reminded of your guards' presences. You turn towards them, face devoid of emotions.

Levi's eyes narrow. "Explain."

“Not here.” Erwin steps closer to you as well, looking over his shoulder. “We’re drawing unwanted attention.”

Levi sheathes back his sword, his glare still directed at you. “Fine. Let’s go then.”

Despite their words, you stay rooted to your spot.

“It wasn’t a request.” Levi turns, clearly exasperated. He grabs your wrist.

You grit your teeth, glaring at him. You know better than to argue with either of them right now, but you don't appreciate him manhandling you like a piece of meat.

“I will once you unhand me,” you hiss.

Levi’s gaze levels with you, looking at you like you were glass. He finally releases you, but not without his own flair; he crosses his arms over his chest, staring at you like he expects you to make a run for it, to fight him on this.

You roll your eyes; how dramatic. Even if you could somehow outrun them, your bravado for tonight has all but vanished.

And so, you diligently follow them, with Erwin leading, while Levi walks behind you. Both of them are quiet on the walk back, the sound of their armors clinking through the cobblestone streets of the city. Neither wish to attract attention to the fact that they were escorting the future queen of the realm, heading straight into the castle's back way passage.

It is the calm before the storm.

"What the hell were you thinking, Princess?" is the first thing Levi says the moment he ceremoniously drags you into your chambers, hand firmly attached to your elbow.

Levi forces the cloak and weapon off of you, a glint in his eyes that makes it clear he's pissed.

You glare at him, ripping your arm away from him.

Out of your two guards, Levi Ackerman is always the one quickest to rile up. You think he has a bad temper and a mouth that ought to be washed with soap. For this reason, you often bicker with him, partly because you're often too prideful to admit defeat, but also because you secretly enjoy the banter.

Tonight, however, you do not have the will to fight.

"I do not know, Levi." You sigh, heading towards your vanity to place down your bag. "I just wished to wander by myself, I suppose."

"Into the Perfumed Quarters? Don't you know what business goes on in that part of town?"

You whip your head around. "Of course I know. I'm not an idiot."

"Really?" Levi sneers. "Could've fooled me, Princess."

He pops the p in your title, just the way he knows you hate it. Your eyes narrow.

"Let her regain her breath, Levi," Erwin interrupts, effectively breaking apart this building feud. He's made sure to close every door, every window, shut. He sidesteps the broken vase, the pieces of which are still scattered by the entrance. "I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation for all of this."

Erwin observes you, seeking to understand. He's different from Levi in that way. He's more patient, more calm than his counterpart. Still, under that mask of stillness lurks a cleverness that you've learned not to take lightly.

You hate this—hate that you've ended up caught red-handed by these two men, by your friends. How did they even notice you were missing? You thought you were being discreet.

Knowing them, they probably defied your orders and checked on you, only to discover your treachery. You sigh, cursing yourself inwardly. Out of everyone who might have caught you, why did it have to be them? This feels like a cruel joke from the Gods.

The three of you grew up together. First as a girl and two young squires, later as a princess and her two knights. Yours is a relationship forged in friendship, in trust, in loyalty. Where the princess goes, so does her two guards. There is no one she trusts more.

You've heard the whispers over the years. The words that rivals in court like to spin—those who'd rather slit their throats than see a woman like you sit on the throne. A whore, the little birds whisper. A princess that dared to lower herself by opening her legs not to one, but to both her guards.

None of it is true, of course.

But perhaps it is the spirit from earlier that emboldens you, but you find yourself wishing it were, to at least have this part of yourself that would be yours.

"Earth to the princess of the realm," Levi's chastising voice echoes in your ears. One of your eye twitches. "What the hell were you doing tonight? Don't you know what those places offer?"

“Of course I know, Levi. Did you ever consider that I sought such an establishment for that exact purpose?”

“...What?”

It is no secret that Levi’s mother was a prostitute. You know he doesn’t see the job of a working woman or man as lesser, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t look down on people who take advantage of workers and enable establishments from profiting off their labor.

It must bother him, your words.

You try to soften the blow, because you don't want to lose his good opinion of you, whatever it may be. "I did my research, Levi. I picked one run by a woman, one that treats its workers fairly, with good compensations and living conditions."

"But, why the hell are you looking to... to go to a brothel? You've never… your chasteness—"

"Fuck my chasteness."

Levi’s brows knit together, though the rest of his face looks more in a stupor than anything else. You, on the other hand, are now filled with explosive emotions.

"Why did you seek such a place, your Highness?" Erwin finally speaks up, his smooth voice easing some of the tension in your shoulders. "Why not talk to us about it first?"

Your eyes flicker towards him. There's Erwin. Level-headed, calm, clever Erwin. Always asking just the question you most wished he didn't.

"Because…” you hesitate, “because I wish to know what it is like. I wish for things to be my decision for once, to decide how and where I..."

You close your mouth, feeling yourself growing hot. You know you shouldn't say these words to them. A princess shouldn't want pleasure. A princess shouldn't sneak off to seek a brothel. And a princess should especially not discuss such matters with her two male guards.

They both fall silent, which only renders the situation more awkward.

"You could have at least asked one of us to accompany you," Erwin suggests.

"Would you?" Your gaze is that of tepid coolness. "Would you have let me go?"

At that, both your guards seem a little torn. Levi's eternal frown hasn't wavered, while Erwin's eyes are intently on you, as if you were some puzzle needing to be solved.

You swallow, sitting at the edge of your bed, interlacing your fingers into a knot.

"You heard my father earlier. Soon, I will have no choice. I will marry. And I know it is my duty, I know it. But the idea of someone forcibly taking this part of myself before I am ready to give it up makes me ill. So yes, I went into town. Because I wanted to find this side of myself on my own."

Silence falls. You feel their gaze on you, heated and intense. You look at them. Their expressions tell you enough.

"You see," you say bitterly, "even if I had told you, you would have stopped me."

Steps usher towards you. In a heartbeat, Erwin is kneeling in front of you, eye-level with you. His gaze speaks of compassion, of soft understanding. "It is because we worry for you, your Highness. We've known each other since all three of us were children. We do not wish to see you harmed at the hands of a stranger."

For some reason, Erwin's words make you glance at Levi. You wish to know if Erwin's words ring true.

Levi clears his throat, a pout forming on his lips. "Princess, not every lover is created equal. You should... you deserve to know someone who pleases you."

Something heavy fills in your chest.

“And a brothel wouldn’t give that to me?” you ask in a crestfallen tone. “Aren’t they trained in the art of love-making?”

“That is not for us to say, or to judge,” Erwin answers. “But it doesn’t stop us from worrying.”

You stare at your bare hands, reeling them into a fist over your lap. This whole situation feels so deeply unfair.

“Tell me, why must my body be used for breeding grounds?” you ask, more to yourself than to anyone else. “Why must my value only be placed for what’s between my legs?”

Erwin stands back up, his presence a warm shadow on your side. To your surprise, both he and Levi take a seat next to you, with you in between them.

"Princess, it is not for us to voice what is right or wrong." Erwin places a hand over yours; it sends jitters straight to your stomach. "But we wish for you to be safe."

Next to you, Levi interlaces his fingers on his laps. You can't help but notice how clean and well-trimmed his nails are, compared to even your own. How gentle his fingers look, amidst a sea of armor. You wish he'd place one of his hands on top of yours, just to feel both his and Erwin's touch at the same time.

"You have known me since I was young,” you say. “Don't you grieve for who I used to be? Who I could have become? Why must I let some stranger do what he likes with me—”

You stop talking, feeling nausea churning in your belly. Clearly, you’re saying things you shouldn’t.

But this is Levi and Erwin. Somehow, with them, words always come out easier. With them, things have always come easier. Natural.

“Princess.” Erwin squeezes your hand. You still don’t look at him, but you admire his broad fingers, filled with scars that speak of past battles. “You know we will defend you no matter what. If your future husband forces you—”

"But what if I never want him? What if I want you both instead—"

You don't finish your sentence. Sandwiched between them, their breaths caressing your bare skin like silk, it's hard to think.

To your surprise, Levi is the first one to speak up, "Finish what you were about to say."

Your eyes flicker to him. He's close. His gray eyes are relentless and charged, defying you to speak, like a great storm gathering in the distance. And his lips—

Are moving.

"Tell us," Levi says again, grating out your name.

But you've never been one to say what you want directly—you've never been allowed to. Now that Levi is asking you to tell him, you hesitate. You raise a hand to your face, concealing your shame. "I'm sorry. I know that the two of you are, well, together. I don't know what's gotten into me. I don't know why I'm saying these things to you."

You know what the two of them are. Lovers. You know it to be true, because you see the way they look at one another, the way they talk. You’ve long felt envy in your heart—not at one of them in particular, but wishing you could be a part of it. Wishing that they would embrace you with open arms.

The truth is, you love them. You’ve loved them for a long, long time.

And you suddenly wonder: was this what you were seeking to find tonight? Did you simply search for them in others?

"Princess, we've both—" Erwin's voice beckons you back to the present. Your gaze falls on him. He tilts his head, smiling softly. "We have long known how we both feel about you. If duties and titles were shirked away, don't you know what we would have done by now?"

It is a bold thing he is saying—what a guard is saying to his princess. He could be exiled for such a statement, or worse. But Erwin has always been a bold man, one that takes gambles.

You just never thought you'd actually see the day where he would take a chance on you.

Before you can move, fingers slip between your own, filled with questions. You watch as Erwin carefully runs his thumb over your knuckles, gently turns your hand on his lap.

Instinctively, your head turns towards Levi, afraid that you'll find betrayal on his face for the way his lover is touching you.

Wrong.

Instead, Levi's eyelids are half-lidded, an intensity to his expression as he assesses your every movement. It turns the spikes in your belly to butterflies.

"I..."

"Just say it." Levi says your first name again, like it was a prayer that would bring absolution to his sins. "Just give us the command."

But you do not wish for this to be a princess' command. You wish for it to be a woman and two men, bound in pleasure and feelings.

"I wish for your touch," you hesitate, "but not because I command it, but because you wish for it. Otherwise, let us never speak of this again. We can forget and—"

You mean to stand back up.

But a warm hand—Erwin's—snakes up to the back of your neck, forcing you to turn in his direction.

And then his lips meet yours.

He kisses you.

He kisses you... and your mouth parts in surprise, feeling a buzz of energy vibrate across your body, a path of tingling sensation scattering upwards like dozens of tiny birds flapping their wings. Erwin's kiss is chaste and innocent, like a schoolboy kisses a crush. Soon enough, he leans away, vibrant blue eyes gauging your reaction, and when you stare at him, slightly disoriented, he smiles.

He should have known you’d want more. You’re a spoiled thing, after all, used to the finer things.

Which is why you grab him by the collar and demand another kiss.

Erwin's chest vibrates as he chuckles, and his hands gently fall on your waist as he reciprocates the kiss. His lips open up to you, like a flower blooming under the sun. His thumb fumbles with the thick of your dress, a gentle sigh escaping his lips as you lean away.

A lopsided grin graces his lips and you can't help but return it.

"Forgetting about me, already?" comes a drawl from behind.

You turn to Levi, amused at his impatience. He's got a brow raised, staring at both of you with a slight pout on his lips. The sight makes you stare back fondly.

"I would never," you say.

Levi’s flicker to your lips. Where Erwin was bold and self-assured, Levi is more prudent, like he thought you might catch on fire if you touch him.

And so, you make sure to set you both ablaze by pressing your lips to his.

For a moment, nothing happens, Levi just sits there, frozen.

And then, like a switch happening in his mind, Levi's hands fall to your jaw, his fingers winding into your hair, along your scalp. His restraint slips past him as he slides his tongue into your mouth, warm and alive. Your mind reels from the sensation, so different to Erwin’s softness. Levi tastes like black tea, the kind you always see him drink each morning. Levi pushes into you, making you bump against Erwin’s broad chest, and your heartbeat soars the moment you feel Erwin’s steady hands on your shoulders.

Who knew that kissing could feel so lovely, so intoxicating? Who knew what it would be like to feel the embrace of two lovers, of the two people your heart has yearned for?

Levi groans against your lips, his fingers cupping the valleys of your cheeks. Your movement pushes you further onto Erwin, forcing him to lie down as the bed creaks under your combined weight.

When Erwin chuckles, his husky voice vibrates against the back of your skull.

"Ngh —s-slow down, Levi," you huff. "I'm suffocating."

"Can you blame him?" Erwin says languidly, the back of his fingers brushing across your exposed forearms. "You're a delight."

Levi finally slides away, his blown-out pupils taking in the sight. You, all disheveled, resting against Erwin, whose eyes gleam with knowing pride, with love. The knot in Levi's throat bobs. What a sight he has in front of him, for only him.

With a swift hand, Levi undoes his cravat, neatly folding it and placing it on the nightstand. When he comes back at the end of the edge of your bed, he stands there, assessing you with hawk-like seriousness.

Shyly, you offer him your hand.

He takes it.

Without saying a word, you guide him back to his seat, nudging Erwin upright with your other hand. Slowly, you intertwine their fingers together, overlapping them on your lap. You watch with evident admiration at the marvel of golden, calloused skin blending with slender pale fingers, the expanse of their knuckles filled with scars that's a testament to their pledges as your knights.

A smile creeps on your face. Both your lovers watch as you lean back, propping yourself on your elbows while they stay seated upright at the edge of your bed.

"Now it's your turn," you tell them, “… if you want."

Understanding flashes on their faces, though it manifests differently for each of them. On Levi, it comes across as perplexed hesitation, looking from you to Erwin, like he didn’t think you'd want to witness this. Erwin, however, seems to have seen this coming, because his mouth twitches as he bends down to capture Levi's lips with complete confidence.

Levi outright melts into Erwin's touch.

You'd long imagined the two of them like this, kissing. Hands exploring one and another, lips moving in perfect accordion, eyes fluttering shut.

But seeing it now , shared with you… it’s something else.

You love them. You love them so very much.

Because there’s so much adoration, respect, and mutual understanding to be seen here. Erwin’s patience, taking and enjoying, contrasted with Levi’s desire to be filled and devoured, all in the span of this little shared space that now belongs to the three of you.

When they break apart, you are certain your eyes are hazy with desire.

"We got a bit carried away," Levi mutters.

You hum. "I liked it."

You swear a hint of pink kisses his cheeks.

"So we're really doing this?" Levi grumbles. His eyes gleam on you, dark and heady. "It is a sacrilege, what you are doing, Princess. You are debasing yourselves with two people who are far beneath your station. We are not worthy to defile you."

You frown, looking from him to Erwin, searching for an answer on how to make it right. Erwin’s face is blank, and you understand it is up to you to convince Levi, not him.

You reach out for his hand.

"Levi," you say softly, sliding up next to him. Behind, Erwin's fingers brush the nape of your neck, as if to praise you for this step. You look into Levi’s eyes, earnest and true. "In this life, there are not many things that will be mine to pick. So, please... would you be mine?"

Levi melts at your platitude, He takes in the rest of you. You, with swollen lips and hearts in your eyes, must look like quite the delight.

“The two of you are the same,” Levi says, leaning closer with vibrant eyes. “So damn corny.”

You let out a chortle that sounds more disbelief than it does laughter. Levi and his wild mouth. You still think it ought to be washed by soap, though you suppose that it’s got its charms.

Levi leans back, removing his shoes. Next to him, Erwin chuckles, reaching to unclasp his own armor. Like a giddy young girl, you help them, picking up each piece of worn leather and laying it at the base of the bed, making sure it is all neatly ordered for them to easily dress afterward. Once finished, the two men then take their turns disrobing the outer layer of your dress, with Levi grumbling, “how do you even breathe in this thing?” until you are clad in nothing but your chemise.

You shiver. This is the barest you've ever been in their presence, a vulnerability that feels both thrilling and intimate.

For safe measure, you lock the doors—this time, you know no one will interrupt. Only you, Erwin, and Levi have a set of keys.

When you turn back around, Erwin and Levi are both gazing at you, their eyes charged with an intensity that makes your chest lock. They inspect you like you inspect them, their eyes sweeping over your form. A lifetime of knowledge, of love, of duty, and honor, hangs behind this moment, this relationship. It pulses in the air, a recognition that this, right now, is a turning point for all three of you.

Because tonight changes everything.

And you’re prepared to let it.

— Next part / Fic Playlist

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shutupineedtothink · 3 months ago

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Siuan & Moiraine and some 3x08 thoughts (positive)

Hoo boy I don’t know if I should be saying shit but I’m gonna!

I get being angry about Siuan, and tbh yeah idk if showing us her severed head was necessary.

But as for this being kill your gays? Y’all, at least half the people in this show are queer, and this is a world where people die, often violently. I would imagine this is a world where a lot more people, queer and otherwise, are going to start dying a lot more frequently if we get subsequent seasons. And even the most powerful people are not immune to that. To quote another witch, Death comes for us all.

And, truly, as much as I love them, this story does not center around Siuan and Moiraine and their relationship, and it has never promised a positive outcome for them. In fact, the show has been telling us from the beginning that their love will not save them. It’s kind of their whole thing.

It’s always been very obvious to me that they were never going to get a happy ending or make it til the end of the show. Now, I’m someone who thrives on those stories. I live for the bittersweet, the sad song that somehow also expands you and makes you grateful to be alive, and that’s what they’ve always been. “In this life or the next.” “I thought we’d have more time.” “We always think that.” “Then I’ll find you, in the next life and the next, until we get it right.” “And I will wait for you, every time.”

To me, THAT is a far more powerful, far more human, far more romantic and beautiful story than a happy ending. Not that happy endings aren’t good too, in some cases and as we know it’s not cool to have every queer love story end in tragedy. But we do have those happy queer stories now too. We do live in a world where they exist more prominently, and different kinds of people are making more different kinds of stories than ever. This particular one just isn’t meant to be happily ever after. And it never was, it never pretended to be. If you got your hopes up and now you’re angry and sad that this was the ending for them, I get it. Feel those feelings, they are valid. But I don’t think the show is wrong for this choice. I think their story was always heading in this direction, and it was always going to break our hearts. And it’s no less beautiful for it.

So basically what I’m saying is yes the kill your gays trope exists. But there is also nuance to be had here. In a world where we have so much more diversity in stories and representation than we ever have, its no longer that one way is right (happy endings for the gays) and another is wrong (tragic endings for the gays). There’s more to it than that. And when the writers have been telegraphing a bittersweet story for Siuan and Moiraine for as long as they have (and pressing hard on that throughout this season particularly), I can’t be mad about it.

Now I’m a show only and I can’t speak to what happened in the books vs. the show re: Siuan’s plot line. But if I die on one pop culture hill, it will always be “do not judge the adaptation by how closely it adheres to every single bit of the source material.” This adaptation, more than just about any other, simply cannot afford that with the constraints of adapting a 14 book series into an 8 season tv show, with 8 episodes a season. And yet incredibly, the source material itself gives us the in-canon solution: this is a universe with multiple versions of the same story, multiple turns of the Wheel. When you start seeing it as that, as a variation on the book series, which itself is implied to have multiple versions in other timelines (if I’m understanding correctly), then here we are. The show is not the books. It must stand on its own, it must make its own choices.

You may disagree with the choices the show makes, but don’t disagree on the basis that it’s different from the books. It has to be different from the books, full stop. That’s what adaptation literally means. It means change. I would go on to say that the best adaptations make choices/changes based on the constraints and opportunities of its medium, which is also happening here (actors having to leave the show and move on to other opportunities, so do we let them go out with a bang or not). But I digress.

Now as far as the race politics at play here. Oof. I get it, I see it. And this might be where I shoot myself in the foot. But again… there has to be nuance, right? To me, Siuan stood in her power until the end, even as her sisters turned on her and the Dark closed in. (The sort of reverse parallel bookend of this to Liandrin’s trial in 3x01 is crazyyyy.) She declared herself for the Light and she did not back down even as everything was taken away from her. She shook Elaida to her core, I have no doubt about that. And she said I am the daughter of the river. I am the water itself. You cannot break me. Death is not the end. It is only the door to the next turning of the Wheel.

Also, we had another black woman in this episode who was literally chained up by a white woman and thrown into the sea to drown (talk about making a Choice), who finally found her power by calling on her own advice as a mother to her daughter (aka her inner child?), freed herself from those chains, biblically parted the damn sea and walked out claiming her space and strength as the most powerful channeller in a thousand years. I’m not saying Nynaeve cancels out Siuan. I’m saying they both exist in the same episode, in the same world. Nuance.

If you think I’m wrong, you can tell me so. I would prefer you did so nicely. I’m always open to changing my mind. But there’s what I think for now.

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meguwumibear · 4 months ago

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Three Little Words

After 48 hours of radio silence, Zayne decides to pay you a visit.

TW: omegaverse (alpha!zayne and omega!reader), brief oral (f) receiving, brief fingering, unprotected piv sex, knotting, minor scent kinkiness

You’re ignoring him.

You are.

In fact, you’ve been ignoring him for a whopping forty-eight whole hours. The two-digit number seems absurdly large to him—there are, after all, nearly nine-thousand hours in a year—but reminding himself of the scale does little to dispel the budding anxiety that begun to eat away at him after the first twenty-four.

It’s not like he expects you to answer all his calls or respond to all his texts. Zayne understands that you’re probably busy, that your dangerous work keeps you from your phone and that your needy friends often siphon away the remainder of your energy forcing you to party with them. His rational mind can think of ten, twenty, thirty different reasons why you haven’t responded to any of his texts, but his emotional mind—the mind in which he cages his alpha—ignores them all.

Two days without so much as a peep from you simply is unusual. It just isn't like you to leave him on delivered or send him straight to voicemail. Typically, when conversation begins to lull—he’s never been particularly good at carrying one—you often bombard him with lines of emojis he must decode like hieroglyphics just to drag out the exchange.

Though he knows he should let sleeping dogs lie, accept—like any rational man would—that sometimes texts go unanswered, especially texts punctuated with curt, dark periods instead of the welcoming curve of a question mark, he cannot. He doesn’t understand what he did to drive this wedge between him and you, but he is determined to remove it.

He spends the drive to your place convincing himself his visit is purely clinical; once he confirms your radio silence is a result of acute emotional distress and not life ending injury, he’ll leave you alone to sulk. Though he’s certain he is easily the best receptacle for your anger or anxiety or whatever it is you may be feeling, he will allow you to process the emotion however you deem necessary, even if that means ignoring him.

The sharp sound of his knuckles rasping against your sturdy doorframe echoes loudly around the abandoned hallway, disturbing the precarious peace. Zayne takes deep, steadying breaths as he waits for you to answer, hoping his concern hasn’t etched itself into his flesh or colored his skin.

It takes longer than it should for you to respond to the knock, and it soon becomes clear why. The door creaks open barely a fraction of an inch, but he can smell the silken honey of your heat laden scent anyway. The thick, heady odor sticks to your dewy skin.

Your bloodshot eyes widen in surprise when you see him, and Zayne’s sensitive nose doesn’t miss the way your scent changes as your, no doubt, foggy mind registers that an unclaimed alpha now stands before you, willing—maybe—but definitely able to provide you with a much needed knot. It sours briefly, before transforming into something down right syrupy sweet.

“Zayne,” you whimper, and oh how he’s always loved the sound of his name in your mouth, how the ‘z’ vibrates between your teeth, how the ‘aye’ sits in the back of your pallet, how the ‘n’ so sonorously slips out between your slightly parted lips. “Sorry, I-”

You slowly blink at him through dark, matted lashes, lids heavy, pupils blown wide. Whatever it is you want to apologize for stays stuck in your throat. White teeth worry at chapped lips as your eyes slip from him. They fixate on the dark toes of his shoes.

“Let’s get you back inside,” he says, voice steadier than expected given the animalistic way his mind and body are responding to your debauched state. His pants, for example, feel a good deal tighter than they did when he first pulled them on this morning.

You don’t open the door to accommodate him, and—despite the urgings of his inner alpha—Zayne doesn’t bully his way inside. He is in control of himself, of the shaking hands that yearn to press a cool palm against your feverish forehead, of the restless legs that itch to close the distance between him and you. Even as saliva begins to well in his mouth as he takes in lungful after lungful of pure, unadulterated need, Zayne is in control.

“But,” you protest weakly, lithe fingers gripping the doorway for support, “I’m in heat.”

Yeah, he knows. He can smell you.

“I understand,” he replies, wishing for maybe the first time ever to rid himself of the adhesive patches that help keep his scent at bay. His covered glands itch as they strain against the dense medicinal covers, secreting what little soothing hormones the compact space allows. “I want to help.”

Your brows knit together as you digest what he’s shared. Then your lower lip begins to wobble and salty tears begin to streak steadily down your darkened cheeks as you let out an absolutely gut-wrenching sob.

Both Zayne and his alpha recoil at the raucous little hiccups that escape from your throat as you try unsuccessfully to choke back your cries. Wolfish instincts scream at him to comfort you, but he isn’t sure how to without crossing any of the carefully maintained boundaries that the relationship he has cultivated with you are built on.

Tentatively, he places his palm against the cold surface of your door and begins to gently push at the barrier, just hard enough for you to register his ask. You could stop the door from opening, if you really wanted. You could stop him from entering too. Instead, you take a cautious step back away from the entrance, and allow him to shoulder his way inside.

First things first: he makes his way over to your kitchen and fills a glass with water. Omegas in heat need to stay hydrated, but their hormone addled bodies sometimes forget to complete even the most basic activities of daily living in the pursuit of a knot. If he had to guess, you haven’t had anything to eat or drink in at least twenty-four hours.

Which is why he can’t understand why you eye the hydrating liquid so suspiciously. You need it. Your already sore muscles will cramp without it. Your head will begin to ache. Hydration is a basic part of tending to oneself in rut or heat, and you’re already on, what, day two?

“You need to drink,” he tells you, which, to his confusion, only makes you cry harder. Omegas are prone to crying spells during heats—especially when they are unable to fulfil their sexual needs—but the tears are usually a result of happiness and pleasure. Something must be terribly wrong if the thought of drinking water has brought you to tears. Like he said at the door, he wants to help you through this. He’s trying to take care of you. Can you really not understand that?

“’m okay,” you slur out between sobs. “Thank you for checking on me. You can go now.”

Zayne blinks at you as if clearing his vision will make clear for him why you’re in such emotional distress. He doesn’t doubt your tears were brought on as a side effect of your heat, but your heat alone doesn’t fully explain the way your scent keeps getting sicker and sicker as you stare at the water he’s offered.

“And, why would I do that?” he asks.

“Because,” pause for another chest-rattling cry you’re unable to swallow down, “because you don’t like omegas.”

Hold on. What?

Zayne closes the gap between the two of you in three deceptively calm strides, water forgotten on the counter. He tucks his index finger beneath your chin and lifts it so that you’re forced to look him in the eyes. Yours begin to wander—looking anywhere other than at his—but they eventually settle where he needs them.

“What ever gave you that impression?”

Your eyes flick to his neck, where, hidden beneath his shirt collar, two scent patches prevent him from producing the aromatic oils his body, an alpha’s body, naturally creates to attract omegas, to attract mates. It occurs to Zayne suddenly the last time you ever caught his natural scent may have been the day before he left you all those years ago.

“That’s not why I wear them,” he tells you. Well, that’s not technically why he wears them anyway. The patches do keep away omegas, but they also help him wrangle his alpha. He doesn’t like how strongly he smells. Doesn’t want to stink up the office or operating room. Doesn’t want to scare his patients. And, he certainly doesn’t want to attract any omega who isn’t…

“Take them off?” you ask as your body begins to list towards him.

He lets you press yourself against his chest and nuzzle your nose against his pec. His scent is probably strong there, though he imagines whatever smell sticks to his chest is faded and dulled. The active ingredient in his soap is meant to neutralize his body’s natural odors.

“I can’t,” he says, as you continue rub your face against him, nose traveling left of his pec to the crevice of his armpit, where his scent is likely the most potent.

“Please,” you beg, neck straining to resume eye contact, if only so you can blink beseechingly at him with red-rimmed, doe-like eyes. “You said you want to help.”

“I do,” he affirms. He rubs soothing circles into your back to placate you. Perhaps if the two of you had discussed this prior—what you like and dislike in the bedroom—he could do more for you, but he doesn’t want to take advantage of you in your primal state. “Do you have any heat aids?”

Your cries have softened, no longer the violent, rib-splitting wails from earlier, but the tide of tears hasn’t completely stopped. He thumbs a few stragglers away, and you lean eagerly into his touch.

“Don’t want a heat aid,” you tell him, tongue darting out of your mouth to wet your dry lips. Zayne can’t tell if you’re intentionally trying to rile him up, or if you’ve surrendered completely to your inner omega. “I want your knot.”

Zayne strokes your cheek with his thumb, “I can’t give you that today.”

“Why not?” you ask him, squirming a bit to reposition yourself. Too late does Zayne realize you’re pushing your body firmly against his groin, “I can smell how much you want me. Your scent patches don’t mask the salt of your cum.”

Damn his alpha biology.

But, you’re not wrong; he does want you. He’s wanted you from the moment he first presented. He could picture, even then, sucking the smooth skin of your neck into his mouth and sinking his incisors deep into the depths of your scent gland, claiming you, mating you. That’s why he wears patches. That’s why he takes pills. His alpha craves you with a ferocity that he struggles to bring to heel.

“That’s your heat talking,” he replies, though he knows the words are a lie even before they leave his mouth. The patches and pills may keep his scent at bay, but they do nothing to suppress yours. It always sweetens when he’s near, and sours when you part. He’s spent every year since reconnecting with you attempting to convince himself that your scent changes like that around all capable alphas, not just him. That’s how scents work, right? They change based on the parties present. They communicate what a person feels.

“You’re wrong,” you snarl, top lip hiking in anger. “Stupid too, if you really believe that. Are you stupid Doctor Zayne?”

The answer to that, it turns out, varies depending on the circumstance. It would be stupid of him, for example, to carry you to your bedroom and tuck you back into your nest—his eyes find a few of his missing ties near the foot of the bundle, and he chooses not to dwell on what that could mean. It would be stupid of him to help you peel the sweat-soaked cotton t-shirt that you tossed on to greet him away from your sticky, moist skin. All this, would of course, be stupid of him because it just makes him want you more, more, more.

He does all this anyway.

“I’ll behave,” you whine, legs instinctually falling open, hands wandering south towards your glistening folds to part your lips for him.

Zayne tears his eyes away from your squirming form, determined to preserve what he can of your dignity.

“That isn’t the issue,” he says. The dulcet squelch of you playing with yourself takes up residence in his head, right behind his temple. He wonders how many times you’ve brought yourself to the brink of an orgasm within these past forty-eight hours, hoping to alleviate the lecherous itch only to agitate it further.

“Then what…”

The squelching stops. Zayne chances a glance at you, at your face only, not the supple flesh of your thighs or plumpness of your breasts or plush skin of your ass. Zayne is a gentleman in perfect control of himself. He’s thinking only about providing for you in your time of need. He is not thinking about crawling between your spread legs and attaching his tongue to your cunt. Not actively anyway. Those thoughts are intrusive, out of his control.

“Have you considered the risks?” he asks gently, eyes still glued to your face. Just your face. Just your lips and your nose and your lashes. Just your temple and forehead and cheek.

“What risks?” you demand.

“I’m not wearing teeth guards.”

He tried a few times, but the rubbery caps never sat right in his mouth.

“So?”

Astra save him do you even know what you’re insinuating?

“I could bite you,” he patiently explains.

“And?”

And mate you, his alpha brain unhelpfully supplies. You clearly want him too. Your neck keeps lolling to the side, baring your unprotected, raised scent gland to him. Traitorous fingers move without his blessing. A thumb presses down on the slippery skin, coaxing out some of its oils. You let out a sanguine sigh.

“Zayne,” you whimper, arching yourself further off the bed, pressing your leaking gland against the pad of his thumb. “Alpha.”

What a dangerous word. One you’ve never said like that before. It’s always spit out, harsh and angry, accompanied with the roll of your eyes. Now, you drag out each and every syllable, savoring the weight of the vowels on your tongue.

“You really don’t have a heat aid?” he asks. He doesn’t understand how you’ve made it through all your past heats without one, unless you’ve heat shared with someone else, with someone who isn’t him. One of your coworkers does seem unusually attached to you…some painter you met on the job does too. Something ugly coils in his gut at the idea of anyone else seeing you like this. “We’ll have to purchase you one for the future. Until then…”

Until then what? He really, truly shouldn’t touch you anymore than he already has. Not without your explicit consent. Which you can’t give in this state. Maybe he could use his fingers to satisfy you? His whole fist if needed. He isn’t sure what your pussy is able to accommodate or what will simulate the feeling of fullness you’re craving. If his fist isn’t an option, it’s possible you have something thick and phallic around the apartment somewhere.

Trying to picture the different ways to satisfy your needs proves fatal. The hallucinogenic lucidity with which he can suddenly picture you all fucked out on his fist nearly sends him into a fit of hysterics. Gods he hasn’t even touched you, yet he can feel a wet patch blooming in his briefs from his pre.

He needs to focus on something else. Fast.

There’s no heat aid, no silicone toy, no faux phallus he can use to help you. The only instrument in his possession is himself. He looks at your neat little nest—it’s a sparse, thin thing in need of additional blankets and shirts—and you seem to understand the question forming in his mind.

“Please,” you beg, your voice a siren song, drawing him near, pulling him under. When he doesn’t immediately succumb to the melody, the next noise out of you is a piercing, high-pitched trill.

Even if he wanted to, Zayne couldn’t stop his alpha instincts from responding to the call. His knees give out, and he topples onto you, long, stiff limbs tangling with yours. A disembodied hand claws at one of his scent patches, ripping the oppressive thing away from his neck so he can rub himself against your skin and scent you proper.

“Thought you said you would behave,” he pants once he has thoroughly coated you with his oils. His inner alpha screams at him to remove the rest of his patches, to let his scent mix and mingle with your own.

“Thought you said you would help,” you huff. Then, your lower lip begins to tremble. When you bare your neck to him this time, it isn’t to titillate or tempt him, but to hide the onslaught of tears that you can’t stem in the pillow by your head. “Do you not like me?”

Fuck. Maybe he is stupid. So stupid. Oh-so-terribly stupid.

“I like you,” he says, pressing his lips against your temple. Your breath begins to steady, so he repeats the three little words again and again and again until your heartbreaking sobs finally stop and your head is no longer buried in your pillow like an ostrich’s in the sand.

“I like you. I like you. I like you a lot.”

If he could effectively communicate just how much he likes you, he would, but he isn’t sure how he could possibly transcribe into written or spoken word his all of his mawkish affections. There is no language in all of history that could accurately allow him to share the characters or alphabet of his soul with you. So, instead of telling you, he’ll have to show.

He peppers wet, open mouth kisses that are more tongue than lip all the way down your body—shoulder, breast, naval—sparing no patch of skin, acutely aware of the spit forming in his mouth at just the slightest bit of your taste.

You taste like all of his favorite things. Like mooncakes and macaroons and the strange foreign sugar-infused, sometimes doughy, sometimes flaky pastries he gorges himself on to satisfy his insatiable sweet tooth. Danishes. Croissants. Pain au chocolat. Crepes.

The sheets beneath your cunt are soaked through with your fluids, which, his alpha brain tells him is an absolute waste. The licks he begins to lavish your folds with are born of salacious desire. There’s no skill or method. No rhythm or pace. Just his tongue against and your pussy and raw, animal instinct to lick. To devour. To taste.

He slips the muscle inside you, deep as he can get it, and he feels your walls constrict around it in an effort to fill itself up. If you weren’t in the throes of heat, he’d take his time with you—warming you up on his tongue, lapping away at your slick—but right now, you need more than what his tongue can provide. Two steady, long fingers replace his tongue, reaching, further, deeper into you. They slip in too easily, so he quickly adds a third. Index. Middle. Ring. All pumping in tandem against you, working you towards a release.

“More,” you whine, sinking deeper onto his fingers, stopping only when your hips kiss his knuckles.

Zayne uses the fingers already inside you to test the stretch of your walls, scissoring all three apart. Your pussy accommodates the spread with ease, so he slowly slides in the requested fourth, slotting his pinky up against his ring, its descent aided by the natural lubricant your body so dutifully supplies.

He swipes at your clit with his thumb, assessing the sensitivity of the tiny bundle of nerves. You flinch violently as he grazes it, body seizing as if electrocuted, which is a pretty apt comparison. That’s how the nervous system works, after all. A series of electric impulses traveling from neuron to neuron, carried from branching dendrites to sturdy axons to minute synaptic bulbs.

“Knot,” you beg, plead, pray. “Please alpha—Zayne. I wanna cum on your knot.”

Zayne’s throat bobs as he swallows down all the saliva that’s been pooling in his mouth. A knot is, technically, the quickest, most effective way for him to help you through your heat. If he wants to get food and water into you, he first needs to satiate your more libidinous needs.

It’s just, Zayne is your senior, your doctor, your friend. He is reasonable, responsible, rational, and his reasonable, responsible, rational brain begins to bombard with him a series of excellent questions. Questions like: What if it’s only your omega that wants him? What if all current desires are only present due to an influx of confusing hormones? What if, once the dregs of heat have abated, you’re horrified to discovered what actions you took in the midst of it?

What if—his inner alpha, which is not reasonable or responsible or rational but rather horny and base and hopeful chimes in—you really do want him? What if you always have? What if you’ve spent all your past heats alone because he never offered to spend them with you? What if you never had to spend a heat alone ever again?

“You really want it?” he asks, just to be sure. He doubts in the short span of time it took him to come up with the question, you’ve changed your mind, but he needs to hear you say it at least once more.

“I want it,” you affirm. “I want you.”

Zayne never could deny you.

He crawls out from between your legs and up your body so that he can lock eyes with you.

“Okay,” he relents. Most medical texts argue that omegas in heat retain some of their basic faculties. They can and do verbalize protests against incompatible alphas. If you keep asking for him, for his knot, that means there is a part of you that really, truly wants it, “but I want to discuss this further after. Once this wave dies down and we get some food in you.”

You seal the deal with a kiss to his jaw.

Zayne moves as slowly as you allow him to, which isn’t very slow at all. Now that he’s agreed to knot you, you are an unstoppable force of carnal desire. Each time he tries to kneel to kick off his slacks, you pull him in for another messy, open mouth kiss. His boxer briefs, at least, are easy to shirk due to the elasticity of the cotton, and his cock is fully hard with the beginnings of a knot already forming at the base.

He rubs the tip against your slippery folds a few times before sinking balls deep inside your wet, hot cunt in one smooth thrust. The taste of your sweet nectar still lingers on his tongue like a fantastical philter, keeping him drunk on you as his hips piston with purpose into and out of your pulsating core. His eyes find your swollen, unmarked scent gland and narrow at the thin, sleek skin. He slots his lips against your own to keep his teeth away from your drooping. vulnerable neck.

You cum before he even gets his fingers on your clit, pussy seizing around the swelling bulb of his knot. He always imagined his first time with an omega would feel earth shattering, but his fat knot slips in with a quiet, anticlimactic pop. Your greedy cunt clamps around it, and he cums with the thing pressed up against your womb, cock spasming against your tight walls. The sensation isn’t earth shattering, but it’s right. A key in a lock clicking into place. He is sheathed inside you and it feels good.

Sexually satisfied, you manage to nod off, coming to only when his knot has deflated enough for him to safely slip it out of you. Like a good alpha, he planned to grab you some water and snacks to refuel, but in your hazy, post orgasm state, you refuse to let him leave you alone, so he must bring you with him as he rummages around your kitchen for something caloric to feed you.

Only once he’s certain your belly is full and your mind is temporarily clear does he ask if you want him to spend the rest of your heat with you. The look you give him brings your earlier question to the forefront of his mind.

(Are you stupid, Doctor Zayne?)

Apparently, he is.

Because he could have had this years ago.

Because this feeling has always been mutual.

Because he’s going to make you his.

#zayne x reader #zayne x you #zayne lads x reader #zayne lads x you #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x you #lads x reader #lads x you #tw omegaverse #reader can be the game mc but doesnt have to be

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