#ponderer of the ivory cup

[singular-yike]

Got anything on Shiro-onee-sama? (I think I'm just going to make it my thing to give you cursed nicknames.)

We already did one on Hoojiro herself, so instead here's one on the almost cult-like organization that she belongs to herself: The "Ponderer of the Ivory Cup", or the "Thinker in the Eibon".

Depicted below: Hoojiro pondering her cup (Not really obviously but I have a format by now and it feels weird not having an image at all)

What we know

The Ponderer of the Ivory Cup was mentioned by Hoojiro in AWTIF as a mysterious group of philosopher-scientists.

They're an organization interested in researching the unknown mechanisms of the world, which they simply call "Unknowns", or "Black Boxes", systems whose internal workings are not understood, but can still achieve results based on inputs and outputs.

They're interested in understanding and making use of these unknowns, and to this end performs experiments with and on them.

Namesake: The Ivory Cup (Cup of Eibon)

The "Ivory Cup" (based on an MtG card of the same name), is the group's central theme of contemplation as well as their namesake.

According to Haru, it's a cup "filled from the abyss accumulated at the base of a spring of wisdom, deep-rooted at the pith of the world"... Whatever that may mean.

Curiously, someone has apparently seen this cup before, and claimed that it's mug-shaped. While Hoojiro never gets to reveal who, judging by Haru's reaction, it would seem that she at least believes that it's Tsubakura Enraku.

According to the group's English title, it would seem that the Ivory Cup is also called the "Cup of Eibon".

This makes reference to the fictional Lovecraftian magician "Eibon of Mhu-Thulan", first mentioned in the Hyperborean Cycle by Clark Ashton Smith.

The most famous artefact pertaining to him is the Book of Eibon, which contains the magic spells he practiced, records of the area he lived in and historical accounts of other mages.

When H. P. Lovecraft adopted the character and the book into his own writings, he wrote that the book was translated from its original lost language of "Hyperborea" into several other languages, notably Liber Ivonis in Latin and Livre d'Ivon in French.

Here, "Ivon" and "Ivonis" are meant to conjure up the image of ivory white, as opposed to the ebony black "Eibon" alludes to, both referenced in the titles of the object.

While there's nothing that ties either Eibon or his book to a cup, the name was likely picked for how much arcane knowledge his book had recorded, in reference to what the Ivory Cup itself seems to contain.

Name: Ponderer of the Ivory Cup

While the name "Thinker in the Eibon" is given to us directly in English, the Japanese title 象牙の杯を酌む者, which I had translated as "Ponderer of the Ivory Cup", is actually quite the tricky one.

It's all because of the verb used in the title, kumu (酌む), one that has a number of varying meanings. Complicating things is the object on which it acts, the "Ivory Cup", a term which itself acts as both a physical cup and a conceptual metaphor for the unknown.

So, if you care for a little behind-the-scenes "how I got to this translation" section, here we go. (And if not: feel free to skip this part I just need to get this out lol)

To understand how the verb is used, we must look at the three times Hoojiro herself used it in the story, here I'll italicize the word translated from kumu.

Hoojiro first used the word in protest to Haru's use of "philosopher" to describe her profession:

Haru "Yes, I get it, you’re not a scientist, you’re a philosopher." Hoojiro "Not a philosopher, a 'ponderer', of the Ivory Cup." Haru "....aren’t they the same after all?"

Here she uses the verb's definition of "to think, guess, hypothesize, contemplate, etc. about something" to make "ponderer" (酌む者 lit. a person who ponders/thinks/considers), which can be seen from Haru then refuting that the change of wording makes no difference.

Hoojiro next uses the term when talking about the Ivory Cup:

Hoojiro "It's the cup that is filled from the abyss accumulated at the base of a spring of wisdom, deep-rooted at the pith of the world."

It's fairly clear from the context that the cup is "drawing water" from the abyss. So kumu is used here under the definition "to fill a vessel (with liquid, typically saké)"; or to be metaphorically "drinking" from the abyss, under the definition "to drink (typically saké)".

Hoojiro finally uses the term when introducing the organization itself as a part of the organization's name.

Hoojiro "Although we do not understand the 'unknown' mechanisms, it is still possible to make use of them. We call the organization that tries to unravel these unknowns (black boxes), 'Ponderer' of the Ivory Cup (Thinker in the Eibon)."

Here the organization is the subject of her sentence that acts on the Ivory Cup in turn, and all three previously mentioned definitions are applicable:

The group "ponders" the unknowns that the Ivory Cup represents.

They metaphorically "drink" from the cup, partaking in its mysteries by both making uses of and experimenting with them.

They "draw water" from the cup, which is said to be from a "spring of wisdom", representing the knowledge they reveal and obtain from studying the black boxes.

Honestly, I'd say that the organization's Japanese title is actually "Ponderer(s) of the Ivory Cup", "Filler(s) of the Ivory Cup" and "Drinker(s) of the Ivory Cup" all at once.

In fact, the word choice was likely deliberately precisely because it is able to convey all three (six) of these meanings at once. Ultimately though, I chose "Ponderer of the Ivory Cup" to mirror the English title "Thinker in the Eibon".

Potential Theories

Right! So that's really all that we concretely have on the mysterious organisation. However, there are a few interesting possibilities that we could keep at the back of our mind:

It's very likely that Tsubakura is a member of this group too, especially considering that their previous research into dimensions certainly sounds like they fall under the group's interests

It's quite possible that Yabusame Houlen is involved as well, perhaps as a member or a target of study, thanks to their ability

In a similar vein, it's possible that Suzumi Kuzu was involved as well, thanks to their unique existence.

It may also be that they are related to how Yabusame and Suzumi became the way they are

And that's all that I really have on them, we can't get much until we learn more about them after all. In any case, I hope you enjoyed :)

[sweetanidreams]

Lost With You | Leon x Reader (Part I)

Image Source

Rating: Mature (probably, eventually NSFW - this part is just language, I think?)

You were only doing this to begin with because you respected Professor Magnolia a great deal and because she was an old friend of your dad’s. It had been ages since you’d been back to Galar, so the region was already strange enough to acclimate to. But this… this was pushing it.

****************************************************

After having met the professor at her lab in Wedgehurst for “tea and a chat,” you were regaled with her findings around the Dynamax phenomenon and given a condensed, but impassioned recap of the most recent events surrounding Leon, the former chairman Rose and the newly crowned champion. You’d been traveling with your team for so long that most of this was lost to you — outside of a few rumblings here and there because of the widely televised Champion Cup. You knew of the former champion’s reputation as being undefeated, up until recently, of course, but never paid much mind. Titles and fame didn’t hold much weight for you. What really mattered were the bonds you built with your Pokémon and putting your all into your training; mind, body and soul.

You were still processing Professor Magnolia’s disclosures, absently sipping on your wonderfully fragrant pecha lavender tea, when her sage green eyes focused on you from behind her inverted triangular glasses. “So, my dear, the reason I’ve asked you here today is that I’d like you to do some field research for me,” the ivory-haired woman stated, producing from her lab coat a thick white wristband with blue and red trim, and a shiny black plate embedded front and center. “With your skills as a trainer and knowledge of Pokémon from so many regions, I couldn’t imagine anyone better to study the effects of Dynamaxing on Pokémon firsthand,” she continued. You stilled, fingers tracing the sides of your teacup as you searched your mind for the words to respond. Finally taking a soft inhale, you spoke. “I- Are you sure, professor? I don’t even entirely know how all this Dynamaxing business works.”

You could see the subtlest smile at the corners of the professor’s lips as she affirmed her certainty, a hand reaching out to grasp your wrist and squeeze it. “I’m positive. Your and your Pokémon’s lack of exposure to it is largely beneficial in this case, it allows us to establish a ground zero.”

“Besides, I would never be callous enough to send you out on your own to the Wild Area. I’ve arranged an escort for you— who…” she trailed off, checking her wristwatch, “should’ve been here some time ago.” Before you even had the moment to properly ponder the implications of the request or who on earth you were suddenly going to be sent out on this mission with, your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the lab door opening and shutting, followed by heavy, hurried footsteps that seemed to be headed towards the two of you.

"Sorry, professor! I could've sworn I was on my way here, but I somehow ended up in Hammerlocke," a breathy voice called out, the hint of a chuckle beneath it. Just a moment after, you see someone rounding the corner and the first thing you notice is a head of wild, violet hair, just barely tucked beneath a black snapback hat. Professor Magnolia propped herself up on her cane and rose from her seat, her expression flat and unsurprised. In resignation, she sighs, "Well, I suppose I should be worried were you to not have gotten lost." You instinctively follow suit and stand, feeling the older woman's hand behind your arm, nudging you towards the new arrival. "This is Leon, and while I know this likely isn't the most promising of first impressions," the researcher sent a serious look in the man's direction, before looking back to you, "I feel much more at peace with him accompanying you to the Wild Area." All the chairman could offer in response was a nervous grin, his hand rising to rub at the back of his neck. Somehow it felt like this wasn't a rare occurrence.

****************************************************

Your futile attempts at protesting completely and utterly failed. So here you were, sitting on the train from Wedgehurst to the Wild Area next to this man you didn't know anything about other than his having been the longest reigning champion. There had been an awkward silence between the two of you since Professor Magnolia saw you off at that station, but you were pretty sure you heard Leon begin to speak a couple times and maybe deciding against it. If it were up to you, you wouldn't mind it staying that way because you had always traveled on your own anyway. The silence gave you time to reflect and plan out your next move.

After clearing his throat as quietly as possible, you hear your appointed escort's voice over the hum of the train moving along the tracks. "I heard from the professor you've got a pretty incredible shiny Ninetales as your companion?" Your brow quirks as you shift to face Leon and pause, halting your initial sarcastic inclinations in lieu of a more neutral one. "I do," you respond with with a nod, "Ninetales has been with me since I was a kid and it was a Vulpix." A smile playing on the former champion's features, he leaned in slightly. "Sounds like you two have a pretty strong connection. Makes me think of me and Charizard; we've been through a lot," Leon remarks. You weren't really sure how to react to the sudden depth in his reflections, so you opted for the safe route and went for an "Mm. I get that."

By the time the two of you had made it to the Meetup Spot outside of the Wild Area, Leon had become entirely too comfortable and had begun spouting off about his time as champion, the legacy of the Battle Tower and, in such grandiose terms, the future of Galar. Outside of a 'gentle' reminder (lest he get sidetracked) that you had to make it to the Lake of Outrage soon, you endured his long-winded explanations, much to your own surprise. He assured you that he'd taken this route a million times before. You were skeptical, but ended up going against your better instincts and letting him take the lead with the rationale that this was his home region. Along the way, you had been charged by a handful of wild Pokémon, but between your Ninetales and Dragonite, and his Charizard and Aegislash, you were able to get the situations in hand rather quickly. You quickly shoveled down the roaming thought that Leon might've actually been a shockingly skilled trainer - which, yes, obviously he had to have been to some extent, all things considered but... you'd been around enough to know that sometimes one's standing isn't always deserved. You had to see it with your own eyes.

****************************************************

It eventually became evident that you had been walking for ages and it didn't seem like you were getting anywhere close to your destination, so you stop dead in your tracks. Leon notices and stops his ongoing dialogue to ask if "everything's okay." You look directly at him, your deep brown hues making contact with his amber ones, the restraint in your voice palpable as you finally speak, ".... There's absolutely no way we've been going in the right direction, Leon. According to my Rotomphone, we should've gotten there hours ago." The much taller man tilts his head, framing his chin with the joint of his thumb and index finger as he moves beside you, gaze roving over the digital map projected on your device. "Huh," he muses before shifting his weight back into his heels, hands falling to his hips. "Yeah, you're right... we're definitely on the opposite side of the Wild Area," Leon laughed loudly, the painfully nonchalant manner of his reaction shooting needles all down your spine.

"Okay, that's it. You have got to be kidding me." Your hands balled into fists at your sides, you square your shoulders and glare up at Leon, your anger practically coming off of you in waves. "It's one thing that Professor Magnolia has me out here testing out this whole Dynamaxing thing, but with you??," you groaned, all of the day's pent up frustration suddenly seeping through the cracks. Leon, clearly caught off guard by this, raised his hands in front of him and tried to interject. "H-hey, it's oka---" "No, it's a joke. You and all this fanfare and promotions and "champion this and that," like what the hell. Do you even actually care about Pokémon or is this all just for show?"

That struck a nerve. Leon at this point is towering over you, the casual expression he wore replaced by a sudden sense of seriousness, a wrinkle working its way between his brows. "How can you say that? I was the undefeated champion for god knows how long - you think that comes from not caring?," the Galarian shot back, his tone noticeably deeper than it was before. You could feel the shift in his aura and although you couldn't pretend to know all of his sides, this felt... different. You weren't going to back down though, that wasn't an option. The next words left your mouth before you even knew they were coming, you could feel the preemptive regret but your voice held firm. "Again with the 'undefeated.' You never questioned whether Rose shifted the odds in your favor? Convenient how that streak was broken once he was go--"

The wind was swiftly knocked out of you as you found yourself backed up against a tree, one of Leon's large hands gripping you by the jawline and his other one pressed beside you, caging you in. His eyes glowed a dangerous gold, his visage dark. He all but closed the gap between your bodies as he came within inches of your face, his breath ghosting over your skin. "Shut. The. Fuck. Up," he growled, a certain warning tone presenting itself in his words. You winced at the sudden onslaught of sensations - between the roughness of the bark against your back, the heat emanating from the proximity and the rough grasp preventing you from moving your head, it took you a minute to process what exactly just happened. "You have no idea what it was like all of those years, devoting myself to making this place all that I knew it could be," Leon continued, his gaze lowering as he spoke, "just to find out the man who sponsored you, who made it possible to get to where you were -- that it was all a sham. All a bloody part of a madman's crazed ambitions."

Taking a deep, recentering breath, you wrapped your hand around the one Leon had against the side your face, making sure you had his attention. "Sounds like you've been carrying a lot of pain over this all on your own. It must have been lonely," you acknowledged, allowing your voice to soften just a touch. Leon's eyes met yours again, a hint of surprise painted over the once burning amber. If it weren't for this sudden show of vulnerability, you were probably just moments away from taking a knee to the man's groin, but - you understood there were some scars that ran deep. "And look, I don't really know you and shouldn't have said what I did but... you can't let that shit taint all that you worked for, and what it meant to you. You inspired people. None of what happened takes that away." Feeling the former champion's grip loosen, you draw it away from your face and place your other hand on his chest, almost as if to brace him. "I just wish you weren't so loud about it," you sighed, briefly closing your eyes in that moment to avoid seeing whatever Leon's expression might've been right then. This was exactly the type of messy situation you didn't want to get caught up in, it's just too much baggage.

Sliding his hand from your grasp, you felt him bring it back to your face again, this time, much more tenderly. Leon's free arm snaked around your waist and pulled you against him, sending your lips crashing into one other's and causing your breath to hitch sharply in the back of your throat. The kiss was needy, filled with raw emotion. Your body betrayed you, giving way to a slight shudder before leaning deeper into his touch. Maybe it was just the adrenaline rush, but you could've sworn his pulse was racing against your skin. Pulling back, Leon runs his thumb across your cheek, whispering almost inaudibly. "Thank you."

****************************************************

(to be continued)

A/N: Oops, this was originally intended to be a oneshot ngl. It ended up so much longer lol.

[ubejamjar]

⁺˚･༓☾5 Character Associations☽༓･˚⁺

★ E M O T I O N S / F E E L I N G S

Hope of a new start in a city where no one knows you

Joy in finally, finally accomplishing something you thought you couldn’t.

Calm when you get lost in the process of creative work

Safety in the arms of a well-meaning stranger

Loneliness after your lover goes home

★ C O L O R S

Brown - cinnamon, clove, old leather

White - snow, ivory, wool

Blue - night skies, blueberries

Purple- winter mornings, dried hydrangea

Yellow -amber, citrine, honey

★ S C E N T S

old books

warm wool

spiced cake

honeyed green tea

evergreen trees

★ O B J E C T S

An unfinished knit scarf that she wears anyway

A deck of ornate, fading tarot cards in black and white

A worn journal with rough edges, full of letters and sketches meant to be gifted to someone

A pair of leather boots, perfectly broken in with snow clinging to them

An ephemeris filled with astrological ponderings and dreams.

★ B O D Y L A N G U A G E

Easy smiles ready for anyone and everyone, they always brighten when someone smiles back.

Eye contact to show attention, to make sure one feels both seen and heard, to make sure you’re ok.

Tail flicking when irritated, anxious, or especially stressed, usually followed by pinching the bridge of her nose.

A fidgety restlessness of someone who is always ready for something to go wrong; it only fades when she’s truly comfortable with someone

Standing alert or at attention whenever someone in command, with authority speaks. It’s an echo of her life as a conscript that is difficult to shake.

★ A E S T H E T I C S

༓An endless blue sky reflected in the rice paddies; little green rice sprouts that catch the sunshine

༓ A fresh cup of tea with just the right amount of milk and honey

༓ A campfire night beneath a sky full of stars;

༓ A university library just before closing for the day

༓ A street lamp casting gold light onto the gently falling snow

Tagged by the dear @gatheredfates ❤️ Thank you so much for including me!

I have no idea who has already done this because I’m still pretty new here so tag you’re it: @magitekbun @sebnoire @viiioca @amalthea-felsblood @emeraldminuet @pumpkinmagekupo @otherworldseekers @hinganskies @hakai-zonapher

I want to know about all your darlings ❤️ Please do link me to your post if you've already done it! I'd love to see!

[fandom-collective-writers]

Warlord Roasting By An Open Fire (NSFW)

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku Pairing: Nobunaga Oda x f!MC Warnings: NSFW, Oral sex (female receiving) vaginal penetration  Written by: @voltage-vixen​ Prompts: Sleigh ride your partner into holiday bliss & Bodies roasting by an open fire

The village that surrounded the perimeters of Azuchi Castle fell silent as it was the grave of eve on a nipper winter night. Specks of white snow droplets coated the grounds, painting the terrain in a luminescent blanket of ivory fluff. Within the walls of the dwellings that lined the streets of the Oda Clan territory, the villagers slumbered peacefully. Everything and everyone in the town was tranquil-

-Save for the moans and groans echoing from the tenshu of the Great Lord himself. 

Flames from the fire cackled, burning an immense heat that elicited tricklets of sweat from the body of Nobunaga’s Fireball as she thrusted her hips again and again while her warlord squirmed beneath her in pleasure. With each roll of MC’s body grinding and tightly clenching the passion between his thighs, Nobunaga’s torso would ascend in attempt to trace his fingers along the curves of his lover, only to be denied by his lucky charm as she would firmly tap his chest back down against the surface of the futon.

“My lord, shall I remind you again? Naughty boy. Tonight, I will be the one to pleasure you.”

To punish Nobunaga for defying her orders, MC ceased her movement; drawing a testy growl from the man who held her heart’s affection. His cock twitched inside of MC in a fit of impatience, forcing her to bite her lip to lull the moan threatening to escape at how damn good Nobunaga and all of his glory felt against the slickness of her walls. 

“Once again, my lucky charm isn’t very skilled at keeping her true desires hidden,” Nobunaga crooned, smirking at MC’s slight curl of her mouth. “If you wish to please me, allow me to hearken in the harmony of your angelic voice.”

While pondering the weight of Nobunaga’s declaration, MC’s eyes involuntarily rolled to the back of her head when an abrupt jolt of the warlord’s pelvis ascended to deepen their enjoinment. 

“It pleases me when I can survey you from underneath,” Nobunaga crooned, wiggling the arch of his eyebrow enticingly as his gaze shifted towards the bareness of her supple breasts that were jiggling from when her back arched at his recent movement. His words heeded no repeating since MC swiftly propped her chest out and her hands encompassed the soft mounds of flesh. Nobunaga’s voice hitched; memorized by the marvelous sight of her fingers kneading the skin he longed to caress.  

“You drive me crazy,” he breathed, his confession nearly bordering along the lines of a plea. “You’ve left me ravenous for you. Satisfy me and allow your lord a taste. I shall not heed in anticipation naught a moment longer. Take your rightful place upon my mouth.”

Eager of the naughtiness she knew was about to be instilled upon her, MC dug her nails into the sheet of the futon. Crawling up the length of Nobunaga’s body, she paused once settled over his face and braced herself. MC gasped when Nobunaga’s hands cupped the mound of her ass and pulled her down where his tongue was zealously awaiting.

“Ah, yes, Nobunaga!!” she screamed at the blissful intrusion of him assaulting her. “Yes, eat me for as long as your heart desires. Grant me the release to cum, my lord. Taste what I have to offer. Lick me clean until my nectar quenches your thirst.”

Nobunaga’s tongue grazed along at her walls; his pace leisurely, yearning to stall out the session of pleasing. Not wanting to leave any part of her body neglected, Nobunaga’s teeth found the velvet of her folds. His gentle nibbles earned a moan of gratification from MC from the thrill the delightful friction was eliciting. Teasingly grazing his nose against the swell of her clit, the warlord’s large palms traveled to the sway of her breasts, murmuring in delight as he toyed and squeezed while her hips snapped into a rhythmic bounce and carried on with her mission of vigorously riding him until the both were left content. 

The electric of each one of Nobunaga’s fondles were only turning MC on more and more. She grew wetter and wetter, eventually feeling a pool of her wetness drizzle onto the inner surface of her thigh. MC’s eyes half-shut when the onset of fluttering in her lower belly pushed her into the brink of a delirious state.

With MC’s body jolting from the waves of electricity, she collapsed down beside Nobunaga’s side and snuggled under his arm. Her head rested on the perspiration trickling down his chest. The embers of the flames continued to burn hot, yet paled in comparison to the heat scorching through Nobunaga’s frame. 

“My greedy girl,” Nobunaga hummed, his lips curling in amusement at the way MC was provocatively gaping at his naked torso. “Are you already prepared to engage in more sweetness? I myself am ready. No matter how often we make love, I could never grow disinterested in you.”

Their gazes locked upon one another, and the obvious passion was coated in MC’s eyes. Words were not needed to express consent since MC nodded in haste, curling her fingers to fasten her grip onto his shoulders. Lifting her hips to align with Nobunaga, the woman gasped when the thickness of his erection stretched her. Immersed with the newfound fullness inside of her, MC stroked the side of Nobunaga’s cheek and met his gaze.

“You’re not the only one who could never grow disinterested either, my lord,” MC asserted. Wiggling her hips in encouragement, MC’s eyes disappeared into the back of her head when Nobunaga eventually did thrust forward. Nothing else around them mattered as the heat of their bodies rose.

Fulfilling the inclinations of their mutual pining became their only objective as they crashed into each other. Over and over, each thrust became more desperate to satisfy the magnitude of their cravings.

As snowflakes continued to drape the town’s structure and chill the air outside, the outpour of heat continued to incline in the tenshu, even long after the burning flames of the roasting fire ceased in the wee hours of the early morning. 

[mrsarnasdelicious]

Demon!Mike - Summons of Desire

He is later than you expected. “Good lord, you are slow.” You close the ponderous tome you had been reading. The Demon standing in the doorway dusts the ash off of his clothes.

“Have you any idea how hard it is to cross hell to get back to Earth?” He rolls his glowing violet eyes. Other than that, he does not look overtly demonic. Okay, when he smiles his teeth are all uneven sharp fangs and small ivory goat like horns grow between his brown curls.

“You are supposed to ask what I want of you.” You reply. He comes strolling over. “Supposed to?” He furrows his brow. You nod calmly. “I summoned you, I am your master now.” You reply.

The demon snorts. “My master, oh please.” He rolls his eyes. “Yes, I am now. Now come here.” You say firmly. There are muscles in his face that tense, but he obliges. “Good boy.” You cooe. He flusters. You chuckle softly. “You like that?” You cooe. “No!” He barks. “Don’t lie to me.” You shake your head.

“F-fine.. I do.” He mutters. “That would be yes ma’am, yes my lady or yes mistress. Up to you which you choose.” You tell him. “Yes... my lady.” The demon hisses.

“So, now how about a name.” You cooe. “My name is .. was Mike.” He grumbles. “Mike, huh. That is not too bad.” You purr.

“What do you want of me... My Lady...?” Mike asks. “What do you think.” You cooe. He eyes you up and down. “Well, you did summon me, so I assume you want to make a deal.” He sits on the edge of the table.

“Assumption is the mother of all fuck up’s kiddo.” You tell him. “If I wanted to make a deal, I would have stood on a crossroads. I spend months researching demon summoning. This is not about me, this is about you. This is about what you can give me.” You chuckle. Mike furrows his brow at you. “What?” You have evidently lost him.

“Why do you think I summoned a lower tier Incubus?” You purr. “You want to be fucked.” Mike smirks. “Close enough.” You shrug. “Now, undress.” It is an order. And you know he cannot disobey. After all, you summoned him. “Yes, My Lady.” Mike hisses. He obliges, but slowly.

You watch him for a moment. He is handsome, but evidently young. There is still so much of his human self left.

“You are so handsome.” You cooe. Mike flusters a little. Oh he definitely new to this. You are going to enjoy tonight! “Now come give us a kiss.” You purr. You don’t get up for him, he’ll have to come to you. “Yes, my lady.” There is a slight smirk on Mike’s lips.

He comes over and grabs your chin. He is not all too gentle about it. Your breath hitches a little. Mike smirks down on you. He leans in, licking his lips.

His lips are warm and smooth upon yours. You can’t hold back a moan. This makes Mike smirk. Creatures like his thrive on those sounds. You are well aware of that.

You cup his cheek and lick into his mouth. Mike swears against your lips. Obviously he did not expect you to take charge. Foolish him! Now you taste of him, exploring his mouth. Mike can’t help moaning sweetly for you. You drink in those sounds, growing intoxicated. You already know you can’t get enough of him.

“You want more of me, don’t you.” Mike whispers. He tries to gain some semblance of control back. “Depends, what do you offer?” You murmur. “Huh?” Mike stammers. He tilts his head in confusion. “What will you give me?” You lean closer to nip at the lobe of his slightly pointed ear. Mike can’t help a loud groan. He is very much not in control of this.

You get up from your chair. “Come with me.” You tell Mike. He nods. “Yes Mistress.” He rasps.

You lead to your bedroom, Mike hot on your heels. “You want me to fuck you.” He says. You don’t reply. Mike has not yet earned himself an answer. He huffs at your silence. Such a petulant young demon he is.

You nudge him onto your bed. “Down you go.” You say. “On you?” He asks. “Funny boy.” You chuckle. You straddle his hips and licks you lips looking down on him.

“Oh fuck, kiss me.” Mike groans. “I am the one making demands here.” You purr. Mike flusters. You chuckle and grab him by the chin. “Go on, say that again. But this time, remember your place.” You cooe. Mike bites his lip and tries to avoid your eye. “Come now.” You tease him.

He huffs, but meets your eye again. “Please kiss me, Mistress.” He mumbles. “Louder.” You order. Mike whines, balking at the idea. You give a nudge at his chin. “Come one now.” You say. Mike glowers at you.

“Please kiss me, Mistress.” He says. He sounds like a petulant child. You chuckle, smiling down on him. “Hmm, I just might.” You cooe.

You cup his face with one hand, stroking his hot, satin soft skin. You can feel how everything about him is made to lure in potential bed partners.

It amuses you how obvious it is that he is supposed to appeal to people who like a more submissive man, though. Maybe he knows this about himself, maybe he does not. If he does, he most certainly is in denial.

You lean over and kiss him slowly. He lips taste sweet as honey and are supple and warm. It is something that could easily become addictive. Which is of course the entire purpose.

Mike moans eagerly against you lips. You moan in reply and lick into his mouth. Mike let’s you in, all too eager for more. His eagerness makes you hunger for more of him. More of his eagerness, more of his taste. And above all, more of the sounds he makes.

“Give it all to me.” Mike whispers. “Not so fast. Greedy little beast.” You purr. “Can you blame me? The way you react to me. Too hot to handle.” Mike replies huskily. “Too hot to handle, huh?” You cooe. “Just shut up and kiss me some more.” Mike snarls. You giggle and shake your head. “You forget who is in charge.” You say warmly.

“I am much stronger than you. I could snap your pretty little neck.” Mike hisses. “But you won’t, because I summoned you. You are mine now.” You reply lustfully. Mike swallows audibly. His pupils dilate.

He has surrendered himself to you.

“Good boy.” You purr. “Hmmm fuck.” Mike groans. You close the distance again to kiss him slowly. Mike eagerly kisses back. You suck on his lips and lick into his mouth. Mike groans eagerly and rocks his body up into yours.

You can already feel he’s hard. And he is huge. “Hmmm, baby boy, I like what you brought me.” You purr. “You better, Mistress.” Mike moans. He keeps grinding against you. You can feel his cock twitch through the cloth of his shorts. “It is so big.” You decide to flatter him a bit more. “F-fuck.” Mike groans.

It seems he likes it when you praise him.

“You are so good for me.” You purr. “Shou-should I undress, Mistress?” Mike asks. “Yes, I think you should.” You cooe.

Under your touch, Mike’s clothes melt away. His skin is warm yet hot, as though something is burning just below his flesh. It feels amazing to the touch. You run your fingers over his skin, continually. Mike moans softly and arches toward your touch. “Do you like that?” You purr. Mike nods quietly. “Good.” You murmur.

You explore his muscles, running your fingers over the plates of his chest. Mike moans when you rub his nipples. “You are so handsome.” You cooe. “Of course I am. Beauty is a staple of my kind.” Mike replies. He smirks, baring his sharp teeth.

You run your fingers lower, down his ribs, towards his abs. Mike arches slightly towards his touch. You trail your fingers through the ridges of his abs and bite your lip. Damn, he is so hot! Mike smirks up at you. “You like what you see.” He growls.

You gently stroke his thighs. “My cock is right there, go ahead.” Mike murmurs warmly. His boxers fade away. You feel the urge to look at his cock. But you resist and trace your fingers back upwards.

Mike huffs softly. You chuckle softly. “Don’t be so impatient. We have all night.” You whisper. Mike whines. He is not used to waiting for what he wants, evidently. Maybe that makes it all the more fun. You’re going to stretch this out of ages!

You lean in to kiss him slowly. Mike groans and tries to get you touch his cock. You give his thigh a firm slap. “Fuck.” Mike groans. “You like that?” You purr. “Y-yeah.” He mutters. “Wonderful.” You smirk. You slap his thigh again and he cries out in pleasure.

“Fu-fuck... Touch me.. Please.” Mike groans. He writhes beneath your. You kiss him fiercely and draw secret runes on his thighs. Mike whimpers softly. He is so weak for everything you do. You feel so powerful. To have a demon submit and beg like this is something you never expected from summoning him. It is such a wicked thing. Maybe that is the whole point of this, to corrupt yourself by this wicked feeling.

You break the kiss and attach your lips onto his throat. “Oooh fuuuck.” Mike moans loudly. He crushes your body against his and rolls his pelvis against yours. “It is so good. Oh fuck, please give me more.” He whines. He does not at all sound like the demon you summoned, but rather like a frat boy getting his first blowjob. He writhes beneath your touch.

“Gods, you are delicious.” You whisper warmly to him. Mike whimper softly. He seems to like the praise. You smirk and kiss lewdly underneath his jaw. Mike moans. He does his best to grind against you. You feel precum dampen the cloth of your shorts.

“Can I undress you, too?” Mike asks softly. “What was that?” You tease. Mike huffs and pouts. “Can I please undress you too, Mistress.” He murmurs. He is very swift to learn. He fully understands and accepts you are in charge.

“You may. But no magic.” You tell him. “Yes Ma’am.” Mike replies.

He carefully undresses you. He takes his time, as you told him. His fingers trail leisurely over your skin with every item of clothing he removes from you. “You are so beautiful, my mistress.” He purrs.

He discards your clothes randomly beside the bed. And then he leans in to kiss gingerly at your neck. His lips caress your skin. You moan ever so lightly. His touch is warm and leaves your skin tingling.

“Oh fuck.” Mike whispers. He nuzzles at your skin, inhaling your scent. “I love the sounds you make.” He purrs. “Well, then you know what to do.” You tease. You rake your fingers through his hair. “Hmm, that’s nice.” He murmurs. He presses his body tightly against yours.

His mouth wanders over your face, neck, throat and shoulders. He uses his teeth copiously, especially on your ears and your jaw. He adorns your unmarred skin with the mark of his mouth and his teeth.

And you can only moan. For the moment, control is in his hands. And Mike uses it to it’s full extend. He presses his uneven teeth into the junction of your neck and shoulder. He draws blood, which he lustily licks up. You moan, tugging lightly at his hair. Mike swears under his breath. “You turn me on so much.” He moans.

"It must be easy to get you all hot and bothered." You tease. "Baby, I am always hot and bothered." Mike replies. "Don't, don't cheapen this." You tell him. Mike chuckles darkly. "I am a sex demon, this is as cheap as it gets." He purrs. You roll your eyes.

"Carry on, will you." You tell him, in a slightly dismissive tone. "Gladly." Mike purrs.

He obliges right away.

He bites at your collarbone and leaves a bright bruise at the base of your throat. Then, he lowers himself to your breasts.

He worships at your tender flesh. He sucks wickedly at your nipples and places openmouthed kisses on your skin. You moan and tug gently at his hair. "Oooh fuck, you are delicious." Mike groans hotly.

He is so turned on he is leaking precum, already.

You can't help yourself. You swipe your thumb over his throbbing glans. Mike moans desperately. "Oh mistress." He lisps hotly. "More, I need more." He growls.

He sucks heavily on your left nipple. You moan and press his face tighter against your breast. Mike nips and bites of your nipple and growls lustily. He starts grinding himself into your touch.

You can all but feel his desperation. But you are not giving in.

He is here to serve you, not the other way around.

"Slow down babyboy." You cooe. Mike shakes his head as best he can. He bites at your nipple and sucks fiercely.

You pull his hair. That only makes him moan and rutt against you harder. There is no stopping him. He is no longer heeding your order.

You need another way to call him to heel.

You slap him hard on the ass. "Oh!" Mike moans loudly. "Again!" He all but demands. You are glad to oblige. You spank him, first on the right buttock and then the left. "Oh Th-thank you, mommah." Mike moans. You groan softly to yourself. Mike is so fucking sexy. Especially when he is submitting.

"Want more?" You whisper. Mike whines and grinds against you. "Yes, please." He lisps. "Beg me for it." You order. Mike whines and grinds down against you feebly. "Please Mommah, please. I have been so sinful. I must be punished. Please punish me as you see fit." He lisps. He sounds like he means it. And gods does it turn you on.

You slap his arse so hard your hand burns. Mike moans from the top of his lungs. It is an insanely sexy sound. You do it again, even though your hand stings. "Oh yes, thank you Mommah." Mike moans. "You like that, huh?" You. You slide your fingers lower, just above his balls. Mike whimpers. You can't hide a smirk. "Wh-what are you doing?" He whispers. "You'll find out, soon enough." You kiss at his jaw and begin to massage the skin below your fingers. Mike moans loudly. "Holy fuck, that is so good." He groans. You smirk, applying a little more pressure. A little cum drools from Mike's glans. Desperate noises rise from his throat.

You decide not to press him further. Not at the moment.

You remove your fingers from him. Softly you trail your touch up his back. Mike shudders and groans softly. "Please continue." He whines."No sweety." You purr. "It is your turn to pleasure Mommah." You smirk. "Gladly." Mike murmurs huskily.

He leans in to kiss you. First slowly, then fiercely. You moan sweetly against his lips. Mike groans, relishing the sounds you make. He thrives on those sounds. He licks into your mouth and explores it leisurely. You moan louder. You really like what he is doing to you. He is good at it. It is probably what he is made for. To be good to you. Not to you specifically, but to anyone who summons him. This makes you feel jealous. Jealous of who ever had him before you.

He is yours! You are never going to let him go!

"Worship me." You hiss. "Yes Mommah!" Mike replies, full of conviction. His violet eyes shimmer with excitement. He smirks so wide his sharp teeth are on full display. "You are mine." You tell him, biting his bottom lip. "Yes Mommah." Mike all but moans.

His lips wander away from yours.

They venture across your jaw, over the planes of your cheek and along your chin. You moan warmly and tangle your fingers into his hair. He slides his tongue along the shell of your ear. You shudder against him and moan. "Fuck." Mike growls. He nips at your ear and sucks at the lobe. "More, oh gods, more." You demand. "Yes mommah." Mike lisps.

His mouth worships the shell and lobe of your ear. You can't help a stream of loud moans. It feels so insanely good. "Fuck, yes. Moan for me." Mike growls. His teeth work on the outer shell of your ear and he sucks at the lobe. "Oh fuck, Mikey." You whine. You want more of this! "

"Other side, other side. Turn your head, mommah." Mike growls. You oblige, turning your head to the other side. "Thank you Mommah." Mike knows how to use his words. His breath gusts over the shell of your ear. You moan and arch up at him. "D-do it." You tell him, trying not to whine. "Yes Mommah." Mike growls. His nips and licks at your ear and you squirm below him. You grow so needy.

You almost order him to fuck you already.

Almost...

"I can smell how horny you are." Mike whispers against the shell of your ear. "You want me to fuck you." He murmurs, biting into your neck. Blood trickles down your skin. Mike moans and licks up what he spilled. You run your fingers through his hair. "Hmmm I want to fuck you." He lisps. "I know you do." You cooe. "Then let me." Mike growls. You shake your head. "No not yet. I am not done with you yet." You tell him. "Oh you better not be." Mike growls huskily.

He kisses greedily at your neck, licking your skin clean. His lips trail a little lower, to suck a hickey onto your throat. You claw at his back and shoulders. "You smell so aroused." Mike whispers. "Shut up and keep going." You order. "Yes mommah." Mike says. "You better." You tease.

His mouth wanders down to your collarbones. He nips and licks at your hot skin. "Fuck, I want you." He growls. "Not yet." You say, again. You know he is strong enough to hold out for as long as you tell him to. But you also know he genuinely does not want to. He will whine and whimper until you give him what he wants. Even though he is here to give you what you want.

What a hassle.

Mike’s large hands grab at your breasts. “Please Mommah, please. I want to be inside you.” He murmurs. But you shake your head. “Oh no, boy. Not bloody yet.” You tell him. 

His lips trail to your breasts. He spreads hickies over your flesh and sucks at your nipples. You moan loudly. “Fuck, good boy!” You praise him. Mike groans in reply. He mouths greedily at your chest, moaning lewdly. He grinds against you. “Please, please, please.” He murmurs, as though he is delirious. You love the heady feeling of power it gives you. You decide whether this poor unfortunate little demon gets to bust a nut inside you or not. 

And you surely plan to hold out as long as you can manage. Eventually you will let him have it. But only when you need to be fucked. And he is not getting to cum inside. Not even when he begs

“Oh no, not yet.” You say firmly. Mike swears under his breath. “You are so mean.” He hisses. “I know, baby.” You smirk, raking your fingers through his hair. Mike pouts, leaning in to kiss, nip and suck at your nipples. You moan warmly. “Good boy.” You praise him. He groans at the praise. He wants to be praised so bad. He wants to be so good for you. 

Actually that is very strange for a demon. Demons are usually said to take and to tempt as they please. But this demon is not like that. Maybe he is new to it... Maybe he just wants to be taken instead. Oh the prospect of pegging him makes you all tingly. But you decide it is not for tonight. Maybe some other time. 

"You're so much more turned on all of a sudden." Mike whispers. He can probably sense it.  You chuckle soflty in reply. "No need to worry about it. Not tonight." You whisper.

"Can I taste you?" Mike asks. You are thrown for a bit of a loop. Your mind was still on pegging him. "Taste me?" You furrow your brow. "Yes. Your pussy smells so good. I want to taste it." Mike whispers. You smile widely. "You can, baby." You cooe. Mike lustfully licks his lips. "Thank you Mommah." He murmurs. 

He topples you into the sheets and kisses down your body. You moan lewdly for him. Mike smirks against your skin and ventures lower still.  "I am going to eat your pussy whole." He purrs. You spread your legs a little bit wider, inviting him to go right ahead. Mike grunts and leans in to part your folds with his tongue. "Hmmm." You moan.  His tongue flicks at your clit. "Oh Mikey!" You cry out un delight. He smirks against your womanhood and suckles down. You tangle your fingers in his hair. "So good, so good baby." You praise.  His tongue pushes into you, all while he is still sucking on your clit. The perks of fucking a demon, of course. “Oh gods!” You cry out. Mike growls, his tongue reaching deep inside you. The way he works both your clit and cervix makes you go crazy. It is like he is using some strange sort of magic.

Which isn’t even that unlikely.

He is shoving you steadily closer to your climax. Swiftly your orgasm is welling up in the pit of your stomach, gripping at your every muscle like a vice.  “S-so close.” You whimper. “Cum for me, Mistress.” Mike hisses. It is a wonder and a half he is still capable of speech.  Your body obliges him, without hesitation. The tension reaches it’s peak and then releases with one overwhelming gush.  Mike groans, lapping up your wet arousal. 

He replaces his tongue with his fingers, fucking you like a man desperate, with two digits.  His mouth wanders from your thighs to your chest. He bites and suckles at your nipples and the flesh of your breasts. You rake your fingers through his hair. “Oh fuck, Mikey!” You cry out for him.  He curls his fingers into your g-spot and it is like something is punching the breath right out of your lungs with how quick that makes you cum again. Your mind is spinning and it feels like everything is timgling. 

“And I now I want you to cum on my cock.” Mike growls. “And I want you to beg for it. The demon shakes his head. “You have used your strength all up. You can only submit, mommah.” He smirks widely down on you. He helps you part your thighs. And then he lines himself up. Gods, he is so fucking huge! Mortal men would not survive having this big a cock. “Hold onto something, this might hurt.” He smirks down on you. You raise your hand to cup his cheek. Mike chuckles softly and leans in to kiss you greedily. He slowly presses into you. You moan into his mouth as soon as his cock breaches your core. He feels feverishly hot and somehow touches every never needy for attention. “F-fuck me.” You whisper. “Yes Mommah.” Mike murmurs. He pushes into you as far as your body allows him. His glans is kissing your cervix before he has hilted himself. You feel so full of him.  You place your hand over your belly, touching where his cock is under your flesh. Mike groans darkly. “Fuck yeah, so good Mommah.” He growls.

You massage him carefully over top of your belly. Mike can only desperately moan. He is twitching and throbbing inside you. You smirk at how much control you have over him. “So, you gona fuck me or what?” You taunt. Mike whimpers loudly. You are driving him absolutely wild. “Yes, Mistress.” He growls.

And he fucks you, hard, fast and without mercy. You can only hold onto him with arms and legs. You are just along for the ride.  It’s obscene. The sounds, your expression, the way your flesh yields to his. This goes beyond just sex, this is worship. You worship at the altar of this demon. 

Before you realise, it is too late. You have bargained your soul. Your soul for his service...

[thebahdbitch]

Hi how about omega x reader and reader her skin is cool ivory and hair is dark brown and her eyes are a dark hazel 

Hi there! I can definitely do an Omega x Reader. You didn’t specify if you wanted angst or fluffy or any specific scenario so I’m going to be creative with this, if that’s okay! Very very very fluffy!

Omega x Reader (platonic)

Sunny Days

TW: One curse word, While I have an 18+ page, this fic is friendly for all ages.

It was a beautiful summer day, and you had the day off. You woke up in your flat with the window open. You slept with the blanket off because it was warm enough.

After rubbing your hazel eyes enough to get some sleep out of it, you headed to the kitchen to make a glass of tea. As you let it cool you heard your com device start to make some noise, you decided to answer it.

“Hey, Hunter?” You asked, a small crack in your voice, from just have woken up, wondering why he was calling you.

“Hi sleepyhead, I wanted to ask a favor.” He asked, as attentive as ever.

“Hm?” You pondered

“Cid is sending us on a job, and we wanted to know if you could watch Omega?” Hunter asked.

“Of course, but I thought you weren’t making her sit out missions?” You pondered

“Right. But Omega is feeling sick, and you know how Cid will act if we ask her to watch Meg.”

“Oh, poor thing. Alright, give her some medicine before she comes over or some to bring with her, I don’t have a lot. Unless you want my homemade remedies.”

He nodded,” Will do. Can I bring her over now?”

“In thirty minutes or after, let me get ready. Bye.”

“Bye.” You hung up on him and checked your cup of tea, it was warm enough to drink.

You had a sip and then realized it was too hot, and gasped before quickly swallowing it before it burned your tastebuds even more.

You sighed and put your head in your hands, you were still tired. But Omega wasn’t too hard to keep entertained, she was usually rather easy-going which you appreciated.

After getting ready you heard a knock on your front door, you opened it to let Echo and Omega in. He was holding her hand and she was rather red in the face.

“Come in, Omega you can sit on the couch Hun.” You smiled softly at her, pity in your eyes at how sick she looked.

“Thank you again for being willing to watch her. She seems really tired but hasn’t been sleeping much.” Echo informed you.

You came closer to him and gave him a side hug, in which he hugged you back awkwardly, patting your back with a small smile on his face.

“I’ll com one of you if I need anything. Good luck and stay safe.”

“Thanks, we appreciate it.” Echo nodded at you, a sweet smile on his face.

“Of course! Now go, i’ll make sure she’s well taken care of.”

“By the way,” His voice dropped a bit,” She’s being a little stubborn with taking medicine. Could you give her some? If she will.” He offered you a brown bag.

Your eyebrows raised in suprise, she was always so easygoing. You said your goodbyes and looked over to gloomy Omega, who was sitting on the couch.

“Hey, love.” You smiled at her, approaching the couch to sit next to her and see how she was.

“Hi.” She tried to offer you a weak smile.

“Oh poor thing. Can I please get you some tea? It doesn’t have caf.” You offered her, reaching over to feel her head, luckily she didn’t have a fever.

You didn’t want to offer her medicine the second she arrived, you wanted her to be comfortable.

She thought about it for a moment before weakly nodding.

“Wait. With lots of honey?” She asked as you got up.

You grinned, even with her being sick she still had ever the sweet tooth.

After she finished her cup she looked over at you with her big honey eyes,” Could we… watch a holo?”

“As much as I want to, you need some rest.” You reminded her.

She sighed, you leaned over and fixed her ruffled up blonde locks,” How about you try for fifteen minutes and if you don’t fall asleep we can watch a film, yeah?” You offered.

She nodded. She didn’t want to sleep, she wasn’t the type to nap. It seemed immature to her, napping was for little kids, and that she was not. But she was always so good, she knew to listen because you wanted the best for her. She trusted you.

“Want to sleep in my room?” You offered, it wasn’t like your apartment was the biggest, you only had two rooms.

“Can you lay with me?” She offered in a quiet voice, a little shy.

Your heart throbbed, you loved that little girl like she was your own blood, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to nap so early in the day, but you would endure for her sake.

“Of course, want to lay on the couch?”

“Please.”

You got up and fetched some thin blankets, Omega had already figured out how to put the seat up, and you grinned at her cleverness. You laid back and set down a blanket next to you so she could use it to lay on.

You laid straight and got comfy, your holopad next to you to entertain you as she slept.

She went a while trying to adjust, and eventually she found comfort by laying straight out on the couch, her little legs hardly reaching the armrest, and her head on your stomach.

You picked up your holopad, opening up a game you had been meaning to play.

Omega made a rumbling sound,” Tech always plays on his holopad when I ask him to nap with me.”

You nodded your head, understanding that she wanted to just fall asleep and have you focus on her. You put down your holopad and instead gently played with her hair,” Okay kid, I’m here, it’s just us right now.”

She gave you a soft smile and slowly found herself falling asleep. You watched as her little mouth opened, drool threating to spill, you had to hold back a chuckle.

Per Omega’s request, you didn’t pick up your holopad, instead you just stared up at your ceiling. Surprisingly you were comfortable, you knew Omega felt safe and you were receiving the family like love from her.

You slowly felt yourself start to drift asleep. You didn’t have any dreams, but it was one of the best naps you both had in a while.

[malxshrine-a]

a continuation.

❛❛         𝒕𝒉𝒆      𝒅𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍      𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒔❟      and   smiles   aplenty,   full   of   teeth   blunted   in   the   mouth   of   his   vessel,   traces   of   mortality   that   had   left   him   centuries   before.   Expression   is   reminiscent   of   the   boy,   whose   body   he   burrows   in,   tearing   at   his   mind   with   a   spirit   that   cared   not   if   he   sent   the   boy   spiraling   into   hell,   tentative   mind   overcome   with   insanity.   The   stronger   he   became   the   easier   it   was   to   suppress   the   clear   divide   between   the   two   spirits,   he   truly   wore   Yuuji's   face   with   not   a   hint   that   it   was   him   burrowing   under   the   flesh   of   him.   The   only   thing   that   could   give   him   away   was   the   question   in   which   he   had   given   himself   away   on   purpose.   The   glint   in   ruby   eyes,   bloodlust   simmering   under   polite   overtones   that   come   with   conversation   and   pleasantries.

His   hand   lifted   to   cover   the   boy's   human   lips   and   its   trappings,   cupping   his   face   in   clawed   hold,   forming   lips   at   the   fat   edge   of   thumb   and   palm   under   the   webbing   there.   Teeth   glistening   ivory   in   the   light   like   daggers.   He   may   have   often   played   with   others'   perceptions   to   make   someone   wonder   whether   they   spoke   directly   to   man   or   the   devil,   but   this   was   different.   Sukuna   wanted   him   to   be   unable   to   forget   he   was   there.   Call   him   cruel,   but   this   game   went   many   ways.   Observing   him,   he   made   note   of   his   demeanor.   Full   of   amusement,   lips   smoothed   unabashed   in   glee,   a   grin   of   all   things.   ❛   if   that   is   what   you    think   —

If   it   excites   you,   I   won't   refute   it.   I   understand   that   peasants   often   feel   this   way   toward   a   king,   ❜   sukuna   was   quick   to   chime.   he's   never   uttered      𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡   𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑      in   reference   to   himself   before.   He   doesn't   very   well   believe   the   drivel,   especially   considering   he   was   as   ignoble   of   blood   as   a   sorcerer   could   have   come;   there   was   no   great   family   or   clan   name   to   cling   to   that   could   make   his   blood   gold.   And   yet,   they   treated   his   body   as   if   it   were   the   ivory   of   the   gods.   They   were   far   from   wrong   for   that   sentiment,   surely.   It   still   amused   him   that   legend   grew   so   far   beyond   the   truth.   If   anyone   could   say   they   very   well   held   the   blood   of   nobility   and   kings,   he   supposed   this   one   would   be   as   close   as   it   would   come.   His   ancestors   would   be   livid   with   the   very   notion   of   them   uttering   that   exalted   word   in   any   context   to   Sukuna.   Another   thing   that   brought   him   small   bits   of   joy.

❛   This   little   vacation   of   mine   is   quite   lovely,   you   see.   I   have   plenty   of   time   to   ponder   whatever   it   is   that   crosses   my   mind   in   great   detail.   This,   however,   is   a   fleeting   quarry   scurrying   in   front   of   me   like   prey.   A   rabbit   line   of   thought   that   just   now   caught   my   periphery,      ❜   he   takes   his   bait,   or   well.   He   takes   it   because   it   isn't   very   well   an   important   inquiry.   Not   as   important   as   this   one   seems   to   think.   Would   he   sweat   hard   if   he   thought   it   was?   The   hand   clasped   to   his   face   slid   down   to   reveal   the   full   face   underneath.   entire   thing   was   void   of   expression,   the   gleam   of   ruby   hues,   four   eyes   wide   open,   piercing   through   his   companion.   Gaze   observed,   watching,   parsing   his   expression   as   to   eat   it   all   up   later   to   pick   through.

❛      o'   exalted   one   honored   before   a   king,   you   should   repay   my   flattery   as   you   so   lovingly   put   it.   I   wonder,   if   you   do   not   —   truly   love   yourself,   I   mean.   No   one   who   does   would   hesitate   to   say   as   much.   Or   am   I   mistaken?      ❜   he   partially   took   his   bait   and   fed   his   own   back.      / /   @shometsu​

[beloved-blaiddyd]

Dear Brynlee,

One realizes that the matters of the telepathic are entirely fictional and isn’t an effective measure of communication. Naturally, one such as myself shall apply this standard both to myself and others. I must tell you of an immensely *crass* individual I had come across! Trying to barge into your home and demanding answers, carrying a bag full of…let’s call it items pertaining to the past, whether it be the distant past or the recent past. You may have noticed, but do not worry. I have dealt with that…troubled gentleman. Really, let’s just put such people away into the recesses of our minds. Their words and questions are not worth pondering over. Unfortunately, I do not have much with me, so there is little I can offer you but these words and what I have enclosed. Aha, of course I would enclose a gift. I intend to keep alive the manners so many have crushed under their heel and spat on. It’s nothing special, really. Just a pair of ivory chopsticks, as white and as resplendent as bone. And perhaps we may enjoy a cup of coffee, from a shop by the sea overlooking the sun. Over there, nothing goes missing. A lovely day to you,

An Ambling Soul

Dear An Ambling Soul,

I have been hoarding this letter in hopes that I can conjure up a witty response, but alas, I am unable to do so. I cannot ascertain with this minimal information as to who this "crass" individual is— much less who is the sender (you) of this letter.

Hopefully that did not come off as rude, but am I to presume that you are from another realm? Liyue, perhaps? My knowledge on Teyvat matters are limited and I do not wish to offend you with an extraordinaire hypothesis such as "you must be an adeptus!". Especially when I know little of the aforementioned race.

If I got that wrong, well, this is embarrassing, but are you one of my students? Blue Lions? Golden Deer? Black Eagles? Ashen Wolves? Heavens, forgive me. I do not keep up with new monikers youngbloods have for each other as of late. It's rather awkward for me to receive such luxurious presents when I cannot ascertain your identity. I am so sorry.

Thank you for these eating utensils. Much like coffee, they're uncommon here in Fodlan. Fortunately and unfortunately, I am incredibly fond of both. Many thanks for such a boon! In return, I've encased some teas the Archbishop recommended and some gemstone beads. The latter includes gems such as topaz and aventurine. I find them quite lovely. I hope you are of the same opinion.

Best regards,

- Brynn Lear

[fifaworldcups]

FIFA Women's World Cup 2023 Playoffs: 10 Teams Vie for 3 Spots

Saturday denotes the beginning of the intercontinental end of the season games in New Zealand for the last three Women's World Cup billets. Yet, as the greater part of the countries included aren't conventional Women's football powers, you may be pondering who's included and the way in which likely it is that they'll break through to book those last spots in this mid year's competition.

Here is a more critical look the impending capability end of the season games for the Women's World Cup, which will be facilitated in Australia and New Zealand in July.

Bunch A: Thailand, Cameroon, Portugal Thailand play Cameroon on Feb. 18, with the champ of that match playing Portugal on Feb. 22. The champ of this gathering will confront the USA, the Netherlands and Vietnam in Gathering E at the World Cup in July.

SOCCER: USWNT Opens 2023 Campaign In Wellington/Te Whanganui-A-Tara

Thailand Neglecting to progress past Japan in the Asian Cup quarterfinals, Thailand completed rearward in the three-group season finisher to guarantee they'd confront one more season finisher situation to arrive at the World Cup. Thailand are positioned only 41st on the planet by FIFA, and many might recall Thailand's excursion at the 2019 World Cup when they, rather sadly, got dismantled by the USA in the gathering stage by a 13-0 edge.

Should Chaba Kaew advance, Australia/New Zealand would be the third World Cup for the country that additionally highlighted at the 2015 competition in Canada. Truth be told, Thailand had a superior appearance at the World Cup in Canada, dealing with a gathering stage prevail upon the Ivory Coast.

The 2019 World Cup was more troublesome, notwithstanding. Not a customary force to be reckoned with in Asia, Thailand's Women's football battles were factual during their trip in France: three games, three losses, one objective scored and 20 yielded. Albeit the country has improved since, they are probably going to battle to move beyond Cameroon in the main match.

Cameroon In the interim, Cameroon are one more group associated with every one of some unacceptable reasons during the 2019 World Cup as the African side have additionally battled in the background with routine disturbance.

In spite of the issues that have tormented the Unstoppable Lionesses, Cameroon stays a country that produces quality footballers like midfielder Genevieve Ngo Mbeleck, winger Ajara Nchout and commander, forward Gabrielle Onguéné.

Having staggered against African stalwart Nigeria in the WAFCON quarterfinals, Cameroon barely saw off Botswana to arrive at the end of the season games - - yet they stay a ridiculously conflicting group. To arrive at the World Cup for a third time frame, the Dauntless Lionesses should appear two times in New Zealand as the champ of the elimination round in bunch A will confront Portugal in the last.

Portugal Then there's Portugal, an as yet arising country in European football on the Women's side. With 12 capability matches currently added to their repertoire, Portugal put in the hard yards to be allowed one more opportunity to meet all requirements for their very first World Cup, in any event, taking their absolute last UEFA season finisher game against Iceland to additional time. The development of the homegrown association in Portugal (Campeonato Nacional Feminino) has facilitated the improvement of the players, pushing the expert norms to the advantage of the public group.

With youthful players, for example, forward Kika Nazareth coming through alongside laid out going after stars, for example, Jéssica Silva, Portugal like to play on the front foot and will be a harsh test for whoever they face in the last. Anticipate that the European country should be top picks notwithstanding.

Bunch B: Senegal, Haiti, Chile Senegal play Haiti on Feb. 18, with the champ of that match confronting Chile on Feb. 22. The champ of this gathering will confront Britain, Denmark and China in Gathering D of the World Cup in July.

Chile Having made their World Cup debut in 2019, Chile have demonstrated the way that they can blend it at significant competitions yet with three misfortunes to their name at the 2022 Olympics, it's unmistakable La Roja need profundity across the pitch. Known for their confounding chief, goalkeeper Christiane Endler, the South American country frequently wind up depending on her heroics between the presents on keep them in games, as opposed to attempting to play on the front foot. The uplifting news for José Letelier's group is that when they truly do advance into going after positions, the objective scoring is imparted across the group to a heap of players ready to spring up and contribute.

Given a bye to the last, the inquiry for La Roja will be the group that Letelier fields against the elimination round victors, with various youthful and invigorating teens accessible to the mentor like advances Ámbar Figueroa, only 15 years of age, and Sonya Keefe, 19, who play with the kind of fervor that accompanies their childhood.

Senegal Positioned 84th on the planet, Senegal are verifiably the longshots of gathering B - - however with a hodgepodge of results finally year's WAFCON, the West African country demonstrated they're on the up. Arriving at the intercontinental season finisher via a punishment shootout prevail upon Tunisia in their last match of the capability competition, Senegal have been building a head of steam this year with a few successes over different countries in the WAFU (West African Football Association) Cup.

As a matter of fact, nonetheless, a large number of their rivals offered little obstruction. Albeit the resistance wasn't so burdening as it might have been, Senegal showed great going after strength, not least through adolescent forward Hapsatou Malado Diallo. In the event that the African country are to have any desire for advancing through the end of the season games, they'll have to rest on their assault against Haiti.

Haiti All around used to areas of strength for facing in CONCACAF against any semblance of Canada and the USA, Haiti will be the reasonable top picks to advance to the last in bunch B. However, they're entering these end of the season games in unfortunate structure, having battled against the vast majority of their new adversaries.

Another country that plays their best while proceeding and (luckily) flaunting more ability in offense, Haiti will depend on skipper and forward Nérilia Mondésir, in addition to youthful midfield superstar Melchie Dumornay, to bear the vast majority of the weight front and center. Arising in CONCACAF notwithstanding as yet being an exceptionally youthful crew, their childhood could fix Les Grenadières, in spite of the fact that with a coordinate against Chile on the cards for the champ, Haiti might well like their possibilities.

Bunch C: Chinese Taipei, Papua New Guinea, Panama and Paraguay The champ of Chinese Taipei versus Papua New Guinea (Feb. 19) will meet the champ of Panama versus Paraguay (Feb. 19) on Feb. 22 for a spot On the planet Cup. The champ of this gathering will play France, Jamaica and Brazil in Gathering F at the World Cup in July.

Chinese Taipei

Bunch C is just gathering in the end of the season games with four groups in it, and this gathering is likely the most un-simple given that every one of the four groups are positioned in basically the same manner by FIFA - - aside from Chinese Taipei who are, hypothetically, the top picks at No. 39 in FIFA's reality rankings.

In the primary elimination round, Chinese Taipei, which addresses Taiwan, will confront Paraguay. A backbone in AFC, Chinese Taipei haven't been seen at a World Cup starting from the main version of the competition in 1991. They address a little country that has reliably battled against the could of their neighbors - - China PR, the group addressing central area China, has proactively qualified for the World Cup - - and in this way has neglected to meet all requirements for more than thirty years.

Paraguay

With Chinese Taipei flaunting just locally established players, they should be on structure to pound an and-coming Paraguay side who have started to develop pace in the cutthroat scopes on CONMEBOL.

With players who carry out their specialty across the globe, La Albirroja have figured out how to work out some kind of harmony across the pitch and are seldom destroyed by more experienced resistance. With midfielder Ramona Martínez and forward Jessica Martínez on the pitch, Marcello Frigério's side won't ever need danger in assault.

Papua New Guinea

The subsequent elimination round sees Panama set in opposition to Papua New Guinea. With New Zealand the predominant power in OFC, there's little space for any other person to sparkle, which makes Papua New Guinea's new ascent is to be noted. In spite of the fact that with the alliance having dropped out with their past mentor, New Guinea are scrambling to be ready for the tests that look for them and it's normal that they will battle against more experienced resistance.

Panama

Like Haiti, Panama have begun to make clamor on the global scene after a couple areas of strength for of in CONCACAF capability. In spite of the fact that they don't flaunt similar profundity crew as different countries in the locale, Panama can profess to have one of the seriously thrilling youthful goalkeepers in their positions looking like Yenith Bailey, who has more than once grabbed the attention for her country in territorial competitions.

In a precarious season finisher bunch, Las Canaleras' capacity to keep the resistance out may very well be the distinction. However, Gathering C, more than different gatherings here, feels totally open.

[singular-yike]

Len'en Stuff Masterpost

Here's a more organized collection of every Len'en post that I've, hopefully this makes things easier to look through.

Overall Explanations

Introduction to Len'en

Getting into Len'en Lore (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3)

Len'en Relationship Charts

Character Analyses

First-person Pronouns Used in Len'en

Second-person Pronouns Used in Len'en

Overall Shitodo Siblings Analysis

Evanescent Existence

Kurohebi

Aoji Shitodo

Tsubakura Enraku

Yabusame Houlen

Hooaka Shitodo

Kuroji Shitodo

Wilhelm von Clausewitz Halcyon HISUIMARU

Tsurubami Senri

Earthen Miraculous Sword

Jun Amanomiya

Shou Amanomori

Lumen Celeritas

Sukune Katano: 1 2 (Speech Quirks)

Adagumo no Yaorochi and Saragimaru (Saragimaru's Name)

The Tasouken

Reactivate Majestical Imperial

Sese Kitsugai

Fujiwara no Iyozane

Taira no Fumikado

Shion

Tenkai Zuifeng (Also see the Azumaterasu analysis!)

Brilliant Pagoda or Haze Castle: Haze Route

Kujiru Kesa

Kaisen Azuma (Also has a small theory)

Taira no Chouki

Para: 1 2

Brilliant Pagoda or Haze Castle: Brilliant Route

Mitsumo

Medias Moritake

Kunimitsu Ooya

Fujiwara no Shirogane no Sanra

Ooama no Ake no Mitori

Brilliant Pagoda or Haze Castle: Extra Stage

Yago Ametsukana (1st Version)

Haiji Senri

Other Characters

Hoojiro Shitodo

NiLU

Other Analyses & Theories

On JynX's Inspiration and Creative Process

Locations & Organisations

The Outside World

On the Sanctuary

Barrier Shop "Azumaterasu"

Buddhism and Devanagaran Court Culture

The Devanagaran Fujiwara Dynasty and the Historical Fujiwara

Ponderer of the Ivory Cup

Concepts & Terms

Barriers: From History to Len'en

Shikigami: From History to Len'en

Spell Cards & the Spell Card System

On Bird's Names

On the Name "Len'en"

"Lily Pad Ice" Dimensions (Relies on a fair bit of theory)

Theories

Holy Sites of the Len'en Series (also has 2 little theories)

Outsider Senri Priests

The Earthly Gods and Mugenri (Follow-up)

2 Tsurubami Theories (Eye of Senri + Rei)

On Iyozane's Revival

The Tale of Genji and Len'en (has analyses but is mostly theory)

A Pair of Mysterious Kuroji Spells

Musing on Ancient Mugenri History

Other Len'en Asks

Favourite Characters

Favourite Facet of Iyozane

Funniest Translation Moment

Character Most Likely to Make it as an Idol

My Wish For A Future Len'en Game

Speculation: The Orochi Myth in Len'en

BotC Release Version: First Impressions

Thoughts on Iyozane's Theme

Non-Len'en Stuff

My 2023 Japan Trip

The Kamishikimi Kumanoimasu Shrine

The Shirakawa Yoshimi Shrine

Other Asks

"Warrior Shinto Priests"

Ask: Japanese Translation Tips

[sp00kworm]

Black Oak (Part 2)

Pairing: Alcott Glyn (Headless Horseman) x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Body Horror, Murder

PART 1 

---

---

The police arrived about an hour after you had woke-up the whole village screaming. Peswick was far away from the nearest city’s response, and you sat shivering, wrapped in a blanket from the house, clutching it close as Mrs Shaw rushed to bring you a hot drink. She and her husband were dressed, but neither went into your house. They rushed back home, bringing you a cup of tea from their own kitchen along with a foil blanket for the shock. You weren’t allowed to touch the body, and you tried to ignore the swinging noise of the corpse as you sat perched on the front doorstep to your home, sniffling into the cup of tea. The police took off their hats as they stepped past your gate, and you watched as the crime scene investigation and forensic van pulled up behind them. The two officers nodded at Mr and Mrs Shaw before smiling as best they could.

“Would you like to come with us, please?” The male officer asked gently, “Lets go inside and we’ll get your statement of events, okay?” The female officer with him looked back at the tree and swallowed hard as Forensics suited up to remove the body and take evidence.

“Come on, Sully.” He ushered his companion as he helped you to your feet and nodded to your neighbours. He whistled and smiled as he opened the door for you, “Nice old place you’ve got here.” He complimented kindly, the corners of his eyes wrinkled with crows’ feet, “Mrs Finch used to live here. Are you a relative?”

 You shook as the officer led you gently into the front room, “It…She was my aunty, distantly.” You whispered as you eased yourself back onto the sofa, clutching the lukewarm tea tightly, as though it was a lifeline in your grasp.

“She was a kind woman. Made a lot of oils out of her garden, but she had nothing but trouble and vandalism with this place. Kids used to make a mess of the sides of the house regularly.” He tipped his head to the wall where the fireplace was, “It was always on the chimney. She never did anything, but the kids called her a witch and all that trollop.” He shook his head.

“You haven’t introduced yourself.” Sue gave him a lopsided smile as she pulled out the clipboards full of paperwork to be completed.

“Ah, so I haven’t!” The officer dipped his head, “I’m Officer Perks.” He pointed to the blond woman with him, “And this is my partner Officer Sullivan.”

You nodded shakily licked your lips, “It was nice to meet you. Thank you for coming. I know...Its far.” A breathy sigh left you as Sullivan took out her pens from her vest and smiled.

“We just need an account of what you did this morning and if you knew the victim.” Percy offered as he sat on your couch, “Spare no details. Even something small to you might be important to us.”

 Conflict burned in your throat and gut as you thought about what had happened, “I don’t remember anything of relevance from last night. I spent the night in bed. I’ve only just moved in, so I was exhausted.” You took a shuddering breath and continued, “I went out this morning to the tree and…and I looked up… and he was hanging there, without his head.” You looked into the tea in your hands, noting that it was now ice cold.

“How long have you been here?” Sullivan asked as she shorthand filled in the details on the paperwork, “You said you moved in recently?” Perks looked from the paper to you and smiled reassuringly.

“I moved in yesterday afternoon.” You whispered and Sullivan gave you a pitying look.

Perks shifted against the cushions, “Did you have anyone with a grudge against you or motive from where you used to live?” He asked.

“No one that I know of.” You answered as you put down the cup of tea, fighting the tears and upset.

“Okay so what time did you find the body?” Perks asked. You took a deep sigh and continued to answer the police officer’s questions well into the afternoon.

 Perks and Sullivan could drink their weight in tea, it turned out, and you offered them many drinks over the course of the few hours. They had a couple each, pens scratching papers as they took notes and an official account of the events for the records. You looked out of the window as Sue and Percy signed the bottom of the page. Crime Scene Investigations were hoisting the body down from the thick black branch of the oak, working to preserve the noose he was swinging by. Three people held the corpse up as they cut the rope carefully, keeping the knot intact and bagging the rope before they got the body down into the bag on the stretcher.

“He’ll need to go to pathology to determine cause of death…though I think I have a pretty good idea.” Sullivan whispered, trying not to be heard as she eyed you sat across from them. Perks rolled his eyes and elbowed his colleague.

“Here. Let me draw the curtains.” Perks stood and reached for the curtains before drawing them over the forensics team dragging the body into the bag, impassive to the blood that stained their tunics and gloves.

“I think we have everything.” Sullivan announced as she stood up and took hold of both their mugs, “I’ll put these in the kitchen for you.” She offered with a small, pathetic smile.

 Perks nodded his head as Sullivan as she left towards the kitchen. You heard her bang the cup on the countertop before you tugged the blanket closer and shifted uncomfortably.

“Thank you for your cooperation today.” Perks took his hat and tucked it under his arm, “I know these kinds of cases are very difficult to talk about. I have this card for you.” He held you out a green printed business card, “That’s the helpline for a couple of organisations and the other side has someone you can seek out if you would like some help talking through all this.”

You looked at the numbers vaguely before nodding and placing the card on the coffee table, “Thank you.” You replied quietly before Perks replaced his hat on his head.

“We’ll see ourselves out. Thank you once again and good afternoon.” He looked at his watch before he opened the lounge door and quietly exited.

Sue scoffed at him in the hall, “Come on. We’ve got these reports to write up.”

“Coming, coming.” Perks grumbled, “Nothing wrong with being nice. They just witnessed a damn corpse…” The voices trailed off as the front door closed behind the two of them with a bang.

 Silence.

 You looked to the curtains and stood up, letting the blankets finally fall from your shoulders as you fisted each side of the heavy curtains. They were old and embroidered with curling leaves. You tugged them open with a heave and watched the police vans trundle away back down the old stone roads, back towards the hills where they had come from this morning. With a deep breath, you tied the curtains back before taking one last long look at the gnarled, black oak in the garden, and heading towards the stairs for a shower and to get dressed. You hoped that a shower would wash away the sticky feeling of malaise on your skin and mind. Hot water usually purged bad thoughts, or so you hoped as you tried to erase the memory of the swinging corpse from the shrivelled branches of the old oak tree.

 You shivered through the house after your shower, wrapped in a jumper and heavy jeans as you tried to navigate the halls without looking out into the garden. The memory of the body lingered with the burning feeling of the heavy box in the other room, filled with an old skull. It was a skull inside. A perfectly preserved ivory skull. The teeth were yellow with age on the enamel, and you looked to the table where the muddy box sat with the key in the lock. The headless creature had moaned and groaned as its head screamed from the other room. You turned and looked at the ornate metal decorations before daring to turn the key again. The lid popped open and flew back to reveal the skull again.

 It sat perfectly still on the cushion, staring at you with empty eyes. With a deep breath, you dared to reach out and touch the skulls surface. It didn’t move. No magical energies tore out of the eye holes. It was perfectly still. It was just a skull. But the memory of it screaming and cursing inside the box was burned into your memory and you carefully picked the skull up, cushioning the bottom of its jaw before your strokes over the place where the eyebrows had once been when it was a man. It had to belong to the headless horseman, but why your aunt had it locked away in her home was another question entirely. You held the skull up to your eyes and peered into the bone of the eye sockets as you pondered your decision. There was a glimmer of gold inside the mouth which caught your eyes, and you dared to open the jaw wide enough to snatch at the shiny object. It was a single heavy golden coin which had been wedge between the back teeth. You looked at the old print and then quickly replaced it, wedging the jaw back shut as you placed the skull away on its pillow.

 It sat and stared at you, and you stared at it, wondering what happened last night as you clutched at your head and sighed. You slammed the lid closed and snapped the lock closed before you placed the box in the centre of the table.

“What the fuck were you up to aunty?” You asked the air as you rushed to the kitchen to make yourself another drink. As you set the water to boil you continued to curse, thinking about the headless man who what invaded your home chasing the poor man who had ended up hanging from the tree in your front yard. The head had screamed ‘witch’ from its confines, but you had no knowledge about what it could mean. You took the hot water and made a drink before looking at the last few boxes of unpacking and scoffing, deciding that the day would be better spent researching what had slaughtered the man and hung him from your tree.

 The village library was barely a few bookshelves put together and you sighed looking at the poor collection of books before you dated to approach the old librarian sat next to the desk. She had her own book open, some trashy romance novel set in the Victorian era, and she looked engrossed as she flipped the page and took another bite of her current tea cake.

“Hello?” You asked quietly in front of her.

The librarian jumped in her seat before she clutched at her chest and adjusted her glasses, “Dearie me! You scared the soul right out of me, love.” she took a moment to take a breath and close her book before she stood with a small wince and smiled, “What can I do for you?”

You could see the questions burning in her eyes. She no doubt knew you were the new person in town, and about what had happened at your home.

“I’m looking for some history books about the town. I wanted to try and get to know the place, but I don’t think there’s anything on the shelves.”

Her face pursed a little before she smiled again and pointed to the last one of the small walls of shelves, “There isn’t a lot but there’s a couple of books on the bottom shelf of the end one. For the records and such I’m afraid you will have to ask at the village hall. Rose keeps them in good nick there, lovely woman she is.”

“Ah, thank you.” You returned her smile and left her to her book as you went to the last set of shelves in the wall and started to rummage through the folklore and history books.

 There wasn’t a lot, she was right, and you sighed after about twenty minutes of pulling out books. You tugged the last, thick history book from the shelf and dusted the cover to reveal a history of the local mines and hills. It wasn’t what you were looking for. You peered at the shelf again and huffed before there was a glimmer of silver lining at the back of the bookcase. You squirmed your hand to the back and plucked the small book from behind the tattered paperbacks. It was a pocketbook, stencilled with an old name in cursive, faded and marred with cage.

‘Maria Theresa Glyn’

You dusted the front and followed the name before looking around and tucking the book into your bag. You felt bad just taking it, but obviously the Librarian had no idea it was there, and the name was familiar to you. You remembered the coat of arms on the old teapot. If this was the diary of someone with the same name it might have clues, or so you reasoned as you plucked a few books from the shelf and took them to the counter after replacing the rest.

 “Did you find what you were looking for, pet?” The librarian asked as you placed the books on the counter. She smiled and pulled out an old paper ticket to write your name onto. She poised the pen over the paper, and you told her your name before she copied it onto another for you and jotted the book codes down. She tutted at the date stamper and fiddled with it to get it to the correct date. Obviously not many people used the library.

“Yes, I found a few interesting things to have a flick through.” You told her as she stamped the tickets inside the books and stacked them in front of you.

“Well, you have fun...and be careful, huh? There’s a lot of weird and wonderful things that go on around here. It would be a shame if you forgot that, and something happened.” She smiled sweetly, but it sent shivers down your spine.

“Thanks. I’ll try.” You smiled awkwardly back at her before you took your arm full of books and made a quick exit back into the chilly air.

 The village seemed to watch you as you wove between the avenue of trees, crunching autumn orange and brown leaves underfoot. The chill in the air mimicked their icy feelings. You were the outsider among them, and soon enough they’d come to hound you out of their home. You only hoped to solve what you had seen. There was no way a headless man was riding around taking heads...right? You tried to console yourself as you made it to your home, and past the gnarled black tree in the front garden. It was twisted and old, and the branches seemed to creak as a greeting on your return. A glare silenced it, or so it seemed, perhaps it was just the wind dying, but the tree went silent as you walked up to the door with your keys in hand. The door swung open when you unlocked it and you clutched at your books as the wind howled into the mouth of the house, screaming down the hall like a ghost before you kicked the front door shut, shivering. The old back boiler chugged in the background as you kicked off your boots and placed the books in the lounge on the small table by the chest.

 When the chest remained still and silent you left to place away your bags and get a drink. You returned, rubbing your eyes as you opened the little journal you had found. It was penned with ink and quill, that much was obvious, and you ran your fingers over the woman’s name again before you touched the crest and went to find the teapot. You grabbed the porcelain handle and placed the two together over your lap. They were the same. The Glyn coat of arms. You placed the teapot down and opened the diary to look at the first passage. It was dated back three centuries ago, back when the alliance was beginning to form between the different races, monsters and humans alike, though you could tell this village hadn’t had such luxury. The entire populace was human, apart from the dairy farmers four miles outside the walls of the village. They were large goblins of some kind, cave dwelling and gangly limbed from years in the dark, but you had only seen them.

 The first passage was written in neat, printed cursive, echoing the care the woman had taken to write her feelings and events down.

‘Today is the day of my birth. My birthday rather. I was given this journal by the kind Mister Glynn, as a gift, and so I find myself beginning to write down the events of my daily life, so perhaps I can look back on it and reminisce when I am old and grey.

 Mister Glyn is a kind soul. He is part of the King’s Royal Entourage and the Commander of a large cavalry unit. Why he is in this small village is unknown to us all, but my father suspects it is because of the Wood Witch. Perhaps he has been tasked with taking her head? It is rumoured the armour he has is enchanted against such magic, but I feel as though those are rumours made about a dangerous and powerful man to excite fear.

 He is nothing but polite to me. I suppose my father will want to marry me off to this one as well.’

 The passages were perhaps a couple of pages maximum, and you flicked through the dates quickly, watching her words change from cold and indifferent to soft and loving of the man see always called Mister Glyn. It wasn’t until a year later in the diary that you saw his true name.

 ‘Alcott escorted me to the capital atop Mallor, his beast of a horse, though the creature seems to like me now that I bring him sugar lumps. Alcott wished to show me the city and its fruits though there is rather less fruit and more muck and grime. I am used to mud on my shoes, but I despised the odour of the place, much to his amusement. As I write, I can hear him snickering at me across the table.’

 There was a few blotches of ink and another set of handwriting.

 ‘She stood in a man’s excrement.’

 Their trip seemed peaceful, and Maria even attended a gathering at court. It seemed well until you found the final page in the diary, written across a page in shaky ink.

 ‘They took his head.’

 There was no fond farewell at the bottom of the page or a cursive signature. It was stark and naked on the yellowed paper, like a bad omen forever preserved. You ran your fingers over the words before you flicked through the last pages seeing nothing but blood splodges and blackened dark blood at the corners. It smelt faintly of rot, and you recoiled from the smell as you looked at the empty bare pages. The back of the book was burned across the inside of the cover. It was mysterious but it seemed like Alcott Glyn had been killed. But by who? You had no idea but as you looked at the chest again and thought of the head inside you shuddered.

 Alcott Glyn. There had to be a grave. You tugged your bag open and stuffed the book inside before you rushed out of the door, locking it quickly as you rushed towards the little church. It was at the top of the hill, sat in a mound of earth, subsiding on one side with props and scaffolding to try and hold it up. It wasn’t used anymore, the town hall was used to any religious needs, but it was haunting. The stained glass was dirty, and the front doors bolted and chained to prevent anyone entering. You rushed around the side of the church and looked at the dates on the graves and the dates in the diary. It had to be the 1700s. You thought back to your history lessons and tried to recall the date of the alliance war. 1774. You rushed around the small paths and glanced at the years, 1770, 1772, 1773... you looked at the gap where the 1774 stone should have stood. There was nothing, just unchurned earth and a set of roses growing from the floor. A troubling feeling settled in your gut as you meandered down the path to the back of the overgrown graveyard. There were old stones, crumbling and forgotten under blackberry vines and leaves. It was chance that you leaned down next to a short stone and looked at the faded name.

 Alcott Glyn.  

 The name was chipped and faded, like the memory of the man. Vines grew in wild abandon over the grave, and the blackberry vines had taken over the base, winding around the whole stone with wide dying leaves. It was perfectly hidden and forgotten about. The village’s little secret in the secluded corner of the graveyard, forgotten and buried. Or apparently, not buried completely. The earth was turned over, like something had ruptured from the ground and burst free. It was a long patch of upturned soil, as long as you were tall, or even longer, and the earth and stones were wet, fresh with the rain from the evening and being upturned, as though someone had run a plower through it.  Carefully, you ran your fingers through the earth, feeling the soil between your fingers before you took a steadying breath.

“Someone came out of this…” You breathed into the chilly air, your breath making mist with the cold as you stood and looked over the grave. You said it again before turning and bolting from the graveyard before the night could fall over the village.

 When you reached home, you threw your bag onto the couch and grabbed the chest, prising the lock open to peer at the skull inside. It was sat, still as a statue, on the cushion, with the glimmer of gold between its jaws. You lifted it from the cushion, carefully, pulling it up to your face level as the sun set over the horizon, bathing you in a golden glow with the skull clasped between your hands. There was nothing but the distant hum of the hot water pipes in the old house to answer your stare. The skull did nothing. It sat in your hands as the sunlight died over the horizon and the night began to settle in. In your gut, disappointment settled with the cold reminder that you were holding a dead man’s skull. A real human skull. Carefully, you placed it back down on the cushion and sighed as you went to draw the curtains, ignoring the creaking of the gnarled oak tree outside your door.

 The wind blew as you looked back at the head in the chest, positioned slightly skewed on the cushion. You chewed your lip and sighed before you stood over it again.

“Alcott Glyn.” You whispered to the skull. Nothing. The old electrics flickered for a moment, dimming before they brightened again. Silence, except for the hum of the back boiler. The breath you had been holding escaped and you turned away with a grumble before the lights surged bright and yellow, like the sun, before the bulbs exploded in a sudden thunder of noise. Glass shattered and flew across the carpet in a shower, and you gasped, covering your ears before you looked back at the cushion.

 The head was sat, jaw agape, with two lights in the blackened sockets, rolling side to side. The little lights rolled like stoned before they settled on you and the open jaw began to jitter, chattering the yellowed teeth together loudly. The skull didn’t move, just snapped it’s teeth like a scared dog before it stopped, and the eyes dimmed. It was only a moment of silence before there were three heavy pounds on your door. With a gasp you rushed to draw the curtains, and gazed upon the creature stood on your doorstep, his steed kicking and throwing it’s head by the twisted roots of the black tree. The body stood there, breathing, its undead chest moving as though it needed the air.

“Alcott Glyn.” You whispered again with a dry mouth. All the moisture dried up from you and you tried not to shake as the skull slammed against the side of the box, it’s eyes glowing.

It shook and chattered its teeth before a voice screamed from between the open jaw, “Let me in, witch!”

Fear twisted your guts as you rushed to slam the chest shut on the screaming skull. It chanted inside the decorative metal, hollering about burning you at the stake before you took it to the front door. The horseman slammed his fist on the door again, repeatedly, as though he was going to tear it open, and you shivered as your fingers shook by the latch and keys.

 The horseman began to bang repeatedly and the head in the chest slammed around, shaking your arms as you struggled to keep hold of it. You took a stuttering breath and unlatched the door, turning the keys before you wrenched it open. The headless horseman heaved puffs of misty breath up from the stump of his neck, his trachea flexing with the movement as the nerves of his spinal cord twitched and thrummed behind it, imitating life in his corpse body.

“Witch!” the skull screamed again, his head you realised as you stepped back, and the creature followed. His boots left muddy smeared marks on the wooden floors, and you looked down to see the crushed blackberries over the soles. Your heart pounded as you realised, he had crawled from the grave you had sat by earlier.

“I saw you by my grave. I will not do business with you again.” His voice came from his body this time, contorted and dark as it leaked from his lungs like a wisp.

“Business? What business have you?” You asked, voice shaking with fear.

The skull laughed in its box, a malicious and evil noise, dark and tempting, as though you were truly stupid for asking, “What business did we not have? Have you forgotten in your age, crone? Death and blood, that’s what you wanted, and I delivered it.”

“Who did you have the deal with?” You steeled yourself.

“You, you pathetic soothsayer.” He droned before his dead fist slammed the door closed, “Now give me my head. Our bargain is met.”

“I am not my aunty.” You tried, “I have no deal with you.”

 The horseman stopped, his body stiffening as his horse brayed and screamed outside, kicking its hooves at the black oak with a great smash. The tree shook, shedding twigs, but didn’t fall. He stalked closer, the bulk of his frame blocking out the light from the moon and the electric fitting overhead.

“But you have my head.” The skull whispered from inside the box before he grabbed for the chest. He touched the metal of the latch and screamed, the noise escaping the corpse before you and the skull inside the box. It was an ear piercing, unholy noise which burned your ears and made your head swim in agony. The horseman clutched at his chest and the stump of his neck, his gloved fingers pressing into the gored wound of his neck as he wobbled towards the wall and grasped at it for balance.

 “Fuck.” You cursed before you whipped the chest open and grabbed his skull by its eye sockets, hanging it over him as he slid down the wall and screamed again in agony, twitching against the wood.

“If I give you your head, horseman, will you indebt yourself to me? Your previous contract will be null, and you will only serve me.” You announced.

The horseman writhed before going deathly still. He laid like a corpse for a moment or two before shakily he braced his arm against the floor and pushed himself up. With a shudder he got onto his knees and kneeled before you, his neck dipped to expose the sore, congealed wound of his decapitation.

“I... I will serve.” The horseman gurgled.

“Then I give you your head to end your torment, Alcott Glyn.” You promised before you held his skull between your palms and lowered it to the spinal column of his body.

 There was a great groan as the spine extended from Alcott’s body and snapped to the skull, holding it in place as the eyes burned bright with purple light, the colour of blackberries, rolling in his skull as he reached and clasped at the bone, howling as light burned from the base of his neck and enveloped his skull with a whoosh of purple fire. The fire abated quickly as the moonlight disappeared behind the curtains and the skull shimmered as muscle and tendons swarmed the bone, linking and covering the surface before the he howled, and skin crept from his neck to his face, covering the surface in a perfect alabaster coating. His eyes however, remained voids of black, the centres beautiful blackberry lights in the dimness of your home. Black waves of hair grew from his head, dripping over his shoulders like ink as he howled, leaned against the old wallpaper. They finished growing with a crackle of fire, purple flames licking at the ends before it disappeared, leaving a heaving, black eyed creature curled against the wooden floor.

 Your mouth hung open as you watched the horseman shake against the wood, heaving as he reached to clutch at the hair that draped from his previously naked skull. The inky waves slid through his gloved hands and was quickly marred with dirt and blood before he peered at you through the curtain, looking at you with the purple lights in his irises which were sunken back into his skull. His lips parted before he took a deep breath, wheezing out dust and muck, coughing like a goose before he kicked the chapped skin and crawled closer to your feet. He only looked at you, staring before one gloved hand whipped out and snatched your ankle, holding it tightly in an iron grip.

“Bound to your bloodline again...” he growled, “Humiliating.” Before he pushed himself back and stood, swaying on his legs like a new-born deer as his balance came back to him. Having a head was a heavy burden.

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” You breathed as Alcott slammed the side of his head and beat dirt out of his ears.

“Of course, you don’t. None of you ever do. Now I’m bound here to you until the day you drop dead and rot. Why can you never let me die?” He growled in a worked-up fury, flinging his hands to the windows before he stalked to the door, his boots slamming against the wood. He swung it open, and his mount brayed in greeting, throwing its giant head back before it caught sight of you and snorted, bowing it’s neck like a graceful Swan.

 “You are all the same!” The horseman shouted before the moon was revealed, a cloud moving away from its white surface. He shuddered and you watched the skin on his face disappear with the muscle, revealing the purple lights in a bare, burning skull. As the cloud recovered the moon, the base of his neck flared with purple smoke and fire, revealing the scar where he was decapitated, and his face reappeared.

“I gave you your head back, Alcott!” You shouted after him.

The horseman shivered and turned back to you, looking at you with his haunting eyes, both hands gripping the pommel and stand of the saddle, “How do you know my name?” He whispered in questioning.

With a small breath, you locked your lips nervously and ducked back to the table, grabbing the little diary from you bag before you stood on your porch and held it out to the wraith, “Maria wrote about you.”

He growled and snatched at the book, and you let him take it with a painful smile, “I know the townspeople killed you. They betrayed you. I don’t know what happened to Maria.” You confessed.

Alcott opened the diary and flicked through it before he looked at the night sky, “She lived in mourning the rest of her life. They institutionalised her after they found her carrying my head, wailing through the town. She died, high on cocktails of medicines, with her head buried in the soft soil of a flower bed.”

 The revelation was something of a shock and you looked at the undead man in front of you with a bitter, pitying look.

“You watched her die, didn’t you?” You asked, barely above a whisper.

The horseman scoffed, “That was the curse after all. To terrorise the town for their betrayal. But not her. I used to try call to her from the window, but she never could bare to look at me. Eventually they gave her more cocktails and she stopped coming to the window all together.”

“Jesus Christ.” You cursed.

“Such foul language.” Alcott sneered as he snapped the diary shut in his gloved hand, “She died from the madness and grief. That is the fault of the town and its yet another reason to run into each of these homes and tear their heads from their bodies.” Alcott spat furiously. As fury overtook him you could see the white scarred seem of where his head had been replaced burning with smoke the purple fumes puffing from it like a new wound before his neck popped and cracked, sending his head to the left, hanging on by a thread of flesh to the other side. You let out a screech and clasped your mouth as the horseman gurgled and reached for his head, grasping it by the hair before he groaned and dragged it back into place, snapping the vertebrae back into place with a twist and a squelch of bloodied tissue. It cracked again quickly, and Alcott held the top of his hair tightly with a groan as the smoke poured from his mouth and his head twisted backwards like a ghoul, spinning on his neck before it snapped again and came free, rolling over the floor to your feet as a skull. The flesh and hair melted in waves of muck from its surface, and you shakily took hold of the skull again.

 The horseman stumbled left and right as he reached towards you for his head.

“MY HEAD, WITCH!” He howled at you, but you dashed back up the porch steps and held it protectively.

“You are under my command. Anything against my wishes is against our contract...so you lose your head. Do you hear me horseman?” You blagged, hoping you were right, “So there will be no killing.”

“Evil, corrupt creature. I'll hang you by your feet and bleed you from the neck!” Alcott threatened as fire and smoke poured from his throbbing trachea. The smoke puffed before he went sent to the floor in agony, the black oak behind him creaking and swaying left and right as though the roots were snaking towards him. Sure enough, the ground rumbled, and the black oak’s roots exploded from the ground, snagging the horseman by his wrists and ankles hoisting him into the air as the branches hissed and his mount, Mallor, brayed and screamed, blood spraying over the fence from the horses broken throat.

 It was a curse. You should have expected as much, but you shook as the tree cinched the man’s limbs, holding them tight before it pulled, making him scream in agony as his joints were pulled tight.

“Stop!” You screamed, and the tree stopped pulling, holding the horseman aloft still as it swayed and bent towards you, its branches touching your head as though trying to figure out who you were.

“He is mine.” You told the tree, “He will obey and submit to the laws of his contract.”

The tree groaned, it’s roots wiggling in the cold, hard earth for a moment before it dropped Alcott like a sack of grain and settled down quietly, smacking at the horse inching closer to its trunk.

Alcott touched at his neck as he rose, swaying as he cracked and snapped his joints back into place like a disjointed puppet.

“Are you going to play nice now?” You asked as the man wheezed in front of you. When he nodded you offered him his skull back and watched the skin and flesh cover its surface again before he snarled behind his curtain of overgrown hair, blackberry-coloured lights burning the void of his eyes.

“You truly are her kin if that disgusting thing listens to you.” He snapped as he headed for his horse and mounted the saddle with a quick bounce on one powerful leg, his thighs locking tight around the beast’s sides as it bucked and brayed. Alcott turned his horse and tipped his head with a wave of purple smoke and fire, “Call on me then, witch, and see what havoc I can wreak for you.” Alcott laughed bitterly as he turned Mallor onto the cobbled drive and rode onto the road, his face becoming bone and flesh intermittently as the clouds passed overhead.

“I’m not a witch!” You screamed after the horseman, but he was gone into the mist and the trees, unlikely to have heard you cursing against the stairs of the porch as you collapsed.

[archonoftears]

info: modern au! reader receives a package that helps her tease her boyfriend while he’s at work. 

warnings: 18+ smut, slight breeding kink (mentioned), lingerie, phone sex (kinda), pretty vanilla, no penetration, just description, a tiny bit of dom/sub (implied through dialogue)

word count: 1,626

authors note: umm head empty, thoughts only filled with laying in zhonglis bed and teasing him over the phone. i really can’t remove myself from modern au! with ceo daddy zhong. so here we are again. not gonna lie though, i found myself looking at dragon dildos yesterday and now i just wanna write dragon zhongli and sacrificial maiden. so maybe after i finish with the first chapter of my other fic i’ll get right on that. 

ps no beta, i just kinda got this out and edited it once. so sorry if any mistakes or issues.

please thirst with me if you want to!!

Glancing around your dining room table you felt defeated by the amount of packages staring back at you. You were surprised by the latest delivery of clothing you had received for PR from a few high end designers. You knew you shouldn't have been shocked, dating a CEO of a multi million dollar cooperation came with many perks. Yet you never imagined anything like this. Knowing the mess would only stay on the table if you didn’t start tackling it. You began opening up a few packages, finding bags and shoes. Even the latest spring wear from the major brand ‘Liyue Qixing’ sat in a box for you. Before setting your eyes on a more intricate looking box. Opening it to discover some of the most beautiful lingerie you had seen in a long time. Looking at the brand name ‘Scent of Spring’. You didn’t recognize it, but you were quite enamored with the pieces inside.

Forgoing opening any more packages you quickly gathered the items in the box and wandered off to the bedroom you shared with your boyfriend. Selecting a ivory and gold silk longline balconette bra, with matching thong, and harness. The gold tulle flowers that patterned the silk and lace were soft and delicate under your fingers. You couldn’t go a second longer without wearing the beautiful set. Quickly stripping off the clothes you were wearing and slipping on the lingerie. Loving the feel of the soft lace and silk against your skin. Staring at yourself in the mirror. 

‘This lingerie had to be designed by some deity who knew Zhongli’s taste.’ You thought to yourself as you admired the way the balconette bra exposed half of your breast and how the thong straps cut into the flesh of your hip in a sexy way, giving your body a more defined silhouette.

A light bulb went off in your head, walking over to grab your phone and opening the camera app, returning back to the mirror. Posing yourself quite provocative as you snapped several photos, dropping to your knees and taking a few more photos, before flipping through them. A coy smile playing on your lips as you went to call Zhongli.

Zhongli was startled by the sound of his phone ringing on his desk, glancing down to see your contact photo, a smile immediately forming on his face, he swiped to answer.

“Hello (name), is everything alright my dear?” Zhongli greeted as he turned from the documents in front of him and leaned back in his chair. You seldom ever called him when you knew he was going to be in the office all day, preferring to email him if you needed anything so he assumed this must have been important.

“Everything is fine, just calling to see what you were up to.” You greeted over the phone. Zhongli let out a small sigh, relieved that nothing was wrong.

“I’m just preparing for a meeting with Fatui Industries in a little bit.” Zhongli started, glancing at the clock to check the time. “What are you doing today my dear.” He asked, knowing you didn’t have much on your schedule today.

“Well I was going through some packages I received, you know the PR kind. It was mostly clothes from some nice designers.” You hummed, he could hear you twirling your hair in your fingers as you spoke.

“Oh really? Hopefully they sent things that are your style.” 

“That’s why I was calling actually. There was this one package, the clothes are really nice. But I think they’re more to your taste, and I wanted to get your opinion on them.” You confessed. 

“Of course, I can do that when I get home for you if you would like.” Zhongli replied, glancing at the clock noting that he had about 27 minutes until his meeting. “I should be done with work after I meet with Signora and Childe.”

“I’m actually sending you a couple photos right now, please check your email and tell me what you think.” He couldn’t put his finger on it, but you seemed awfully excited about all of this but he complied with your request.

“Of course, one moment.” Opening his email, quickly finding the one from you at the top and opening it, his eyes widening in realization as he enlarged one of several photos in the email. His voice catching in his throat as he examined it.

“Are the clothes to your liking, sir.” You cooed from the other end of the phone, knowing very well they were in fact to his liking. 

“Ms. (Name)..” Zhongli growled quietly.

“Yes sir?” You asked innocently, Zhongli aware of the game you were playing, but nevertheless here he was clicking on the next photo, feeling his pants grow tighter as he continued to view the photos. The one of you on your knees sending more blood rushing to his already aching erection.

“Are you being a good girl right now?” 

“I’m always a good girl Sir.”

“Are you? You don’t look to be acting like a good girl in these photos.”

“Then should I send you some more photos so you make sure I’m being good?” He could feel himself getting riled up just by the implications of what was being said.

“Well… I’ve already sent them so hopefully you don’t mind.”

Not needing to be told twice Zhongli refreshed his email inbox to find a new message. Opening it to discover new attachments. Slowly he clicked the first picture. Finding you not in front of the mirror in the bedroom anymore, but now on the black sateen sheets of the bed the two of you shared. Angling the camera in a way to show how you would look if he had you pinned down. You looked ravishing, from the way you let your cleavage spill out exposing your nipples, to the way you spread your legs. 

The next photo your hand was on one of your breast cupping and pinching the nipple. The next photo was taken lower, your hand was now in your panties clearly teasing yourself. And the final attachment was a video, it was no more than 15 seconds, but in those 15 seconds you show yourself pumping your fingers in and out of your pussy, before dragging your fingers out of yourself and licking the wet slick off your digits. Zhongli was taking deep breaths as he watched. His eyes following your every movement.

“Sir…” You moaned, lust lacing every syllable. “Do you think I look like a good girl in those photos?”

Zhongli couldn’t say anything for a moment. Letting the video replay itself over and over, his eyes finding new things to focus on each time it replayed. From the way your plump lips wrapped around your fingers or the way you quivered when you plunged your two digits into yourself. He just wanted to see you do more.

“When did being a good girl equate to acting like quite the little slut? Surely I’ve taught you better than that.” Zhongli replied firmly, as he adjusted the way he was sitting to accommodate his throbbing cock.

“This is what you’ve taught me…” the breathiness of your voice letting him know you were in fact still touching yourself as you replied.

“I don’t recall teaching you to send provocative photos to me while I’m at work.” He glanced at the clock again, 16 minutes until the meeting. Fuck. 

“Did they make you hard?” You asked suddenly.

He was not a liar, so he wouldn’t lie to you. “Yes they did…” 

“Did they make you want to come home and stuff your big. thick. cock inside of me.” The punctionaction of your words were breaking him down.

“Yes they did…”

“Master are you going to come home so I can show you how much of a good girl I am, when I’m milking your cock.”

“My Lily… I-” Zhongli wasn’t used to you being this forward with him.

“I need you to come home and fuck me now. Because if you don’t pump me full of your cum I might go crazy.” You whined your voice working wonders on his resolve. “Please… Please come home and breed me sir.”

One final weak glance at his clock showed he had 9 minutes before they would arrive.

You moaned again calling his name out through the phone, the thread holding his composure together snapping.

“You’re not allowed to cum until I get home do you understand.” Zhongli growled into the phone, quickly on his feet, grabbing his bag and making his way to the door of his office. “Do you understand?”

“Yes sir..!” You exclaimed.

“I hope you understand you won’t be walking for the next few days my Little Lily.” He warned before leaving the safety of his private office.

“Yes yes! Hurry please.” 

“I am.” Quickly saying goodbye and hanging the phone up  with you, while walking towards two approaching figures. 

“Mr. Zhongli goo-” Signora began, reaching her hand out to greet him, but he didn’t meet it.

“My apologies, there seems to be an emergency at home, can you meet with my assistant to reschedule.” Zhongli haphazardly explained. “Again my deepest apologies.” He finished, turning on his heel and b lining it to the exit. Letting the receptionist know that he was leaving and scrambling for the parking garage.

“What do you think his emergency was?” Signora stood bewildered where Zhongli had left her and Childe.

“Do you think everything is alright?

Childe seemed to be having the best laugh of his life as his colleague pondered the obvious.

“Trust me everything’s fine.” Childe said in between laughs. “We should probably reschedule for Monday, he’ll probably need the whole weekend off.”

“This is why I hate partnering with you, you’re too vague sometimes.”

[hypahticklish]

gently play on your heartstrings

Summary: Where Aziraphale challenges Crowley's understanding of what intimacy can look like...and it backfires.

Word Count: 1657

Setting: Good Omens, post end-of-the-world

A/N: I wanted to write something in celebration of Good Omens receiving a second season. I love these two so much, it's about time I dabbled in writing them. I took inspo from @wordstrings naming conventions via using Queen lyrics. And I'm also posting a day early because I have no chill.

~~~

It was a Tuesday.

There were never any deals on a Tuesday worth pursuing in Crowley's expert opinion. And yet,

"Curry has been all the rage in London, what'd'you mean you're not interested?"

Aziraphale huffed from the passenger seat of the Bentley. "I mean I'm not in the mood for it. No, the shop is much too hot during the day as it is; I don't think I'd be able to stand more heat."

They pondered from deep within the white noise of the road. "Have we tried...foe? Po?" Crowley asked, his eyes narrowing as he puzzled out the pronunciation.

"Fuh, and we have."

"Take that as a no as well, then."

"Gabriel interrupted me the last time I had sushi." Aziraphale frowned.

"Did he now?" Crowley smoothly circled the Wellington Arch back towards Soho. "Can't have that."

~~~

"Canoodling?"

Aziraphale's cheeks were contentedly flush from shared bottles of umeshu. The dessert wine was the perfect complimentary night cap to their meal. "You know what I mean."

"I assure you we-we-we...I haven't the foggiest." Crowley sprawled across the loveseat in the bookshop's cluttered back room. His arm was slung across the back while his opposite leg dangled to the floor at the knee.

"Surely you do. Look at you, picture of a cad!" Aziraphale motioned from his plush chair adjacent to him.

"Proper harlot, I am." Crowley smiled broadly. His head tilted back to hang off the armrest and he nonchalantly adjusted his hips. "Still, what's canoodling got to do with anything?"

Aziraphale's eyes wandered along black fabric hills and valleys. "It's, uh, it's something Madam Tracy specialised in… don't laugh! I shared her mind - she is a professional!"

Crowley continued to chuckle. "You wouldn't know a canoodle if I found a VHS demo. Really, Aziraphale, a Blu-ray player wouldn't kill you."

"Intimacy, that's the word. And of course I know how - I'm an angel! Love is our thing."

"Sex isn't always love."

"Intimacy isn't always sex."

"Right," Crowley said. "Of course you," he spat the word while gesturing vaguely toward Aziraphale, "would figure all touch counts. Holding a hand equals a kiss, a cuddle equals a fuck -"

"And why wouldn't they?" Aziraphale countered.

"They just don't - oomph!" A sudden stubborn Angel sat heavily between Crowley's bowed out legs at the other end of the couch. He lifted his head enough to look startled. "What the heaven are you doing?!"

"Proving you wrong. Your hand, if you please. Thank you."

Crowley's fingers were long and slender things. Had he had the interest, he could have made a phenomenal musician. Aziraphale cupped the back of his hand and rubbed his thumb across the small bulge of muscle at the side of Crowley's palm. His other hand melted, casually, purposefully, into the hollow as they sought the pair of small buttons securing the cuffs of his long sleeve shirt. They eagerly popped free. Aziraphale slipped his fingers under the loosened hem and drove it slowly toward Crowley's elbow to expose his forearm. His skin had taken on many shades over time, depending upon how much sun it saw during an era's given fashion, yet his palms and wrist remain the same pale ivory since the garden. The tips of Aziraphale's fingers swept back to his wrist and traced the pronounced tendon. As Crowley reflexively went to close his hand, Aziraphale tightened his grasp with his thumb and pinky across his fingers and gently stretched it taut instead. He fluttered along Crowley's wrist, up over the heel of his palm, and walked circles around the crisscrossing lines for several minutes...months...millennia...

"Well?"

Crowley choked on the breath he hadn't noticed shivering in his chest. "Well, what?" He made a show of rolling out his shoulders and laid his head back again. He tossed his free arm back to dangle beside his head and did his very best to power past the relaxed smirk teasing his lips.

Aziraphale sighed softly and stilled his fingers. "You leave me no choice." He set Crowley's hand down at his side and carefully fell into position. It wasn't smooth yet him bumbling around on the small sofa made it all the more charming. By the end, Aziraphale was snuggling his face into Crowley's neck, one arm keeping him from falling off the edge while the other bent and held Crowley's side. His knees sank into the other cushion and left his legs pressed into the armrest with argyle socks crossed at the ankles.

"Ah, I see. Handhold and a cuddle." Crowley absent-mindedly wrapped his arm across Aziraphale's back. "This is your most devastating metaphor yet, Angel."

Aziraphale sniffed. "It was your metaphor. I'm merely proving these things can have the same intimacy as those other things." His fingers resumed their idle waltz, this time atop his ribcage.

"Have not," Crowley instigated. The fine hairs on his neck prickled due to the soft puff of air from Aziraphale breathing so close. The quiver in his lungs returned stronger as the ticklish touch brushed nearer to his open underarm. "Aziraphale," he warned from the back of his throat.

"Would you happen to be ready to admit you were wrong?"

"No, yo-HOO!!" Crowley's arm snapped down. A wild cackle escaped from the hundred's year-old cask of authentic mirth buried deep inside as fingers squirrelled away in his armpit. Aziraphale held fast and summoned an unnatural squeal with a direct stream of air blown exquisitely into his ear.

Crowley dug in his heels and bucked hard, flipping them off the loveseat and onto the rug covered floor. He took Aziraphale's soft tan lapels in his fists to pin his chest down and loomed inches from his face. Malevolent brows furrowed over fiery eyes bisected with a thin slit pupil. "Now you've done it!"

"C-crow-crowl-ley," Aziraphale badly stammered, pale faced and with both hands hanging onto his fiendish friend's wrists. The tumble had taken him quite by surprise and knocked some of the intoxicated wind out of him. Along with the righteous defiance he previously had been wearing. And the upper hand in these sorts of games they played. "I was only-"

"Proving a point? Yeeeaaa, fine job you've done with that. But now it's my turn," Crowley snarled with a manic smile that was all teeth. Had it been missing a distinct mischievous sparkle, he could have been perceived as a genuine threat. He leaned back onto Aziraphale's thighs and wrestled with his hands.

"Don't be silly!" Aziraphale half-heartedly struggled with wide eyes and a damning smile of his own.

"Much too late for that, I'm afraid." Crowley grappled the smaller celestial's wrists and tucked them carefully under the pressure of his legs. "You brought up canoodling." He flicked away the edges of Aziraphale's suit jacket and made short work of the buttons of his vest.

"Wait, Crowley -"

"You started the tickling." Crowley stretched out all of his fingers, fluidly pulled them to his palm and rotated his wrists. "Knowing full well how much more sensitive," poke, "and vulnerable," pinch, "and susceptible you are to it."

Aziraphale squirmed underneath him. "W-well tickling can be an expression of intimacy!" He swallowed hard as he watched where Crowley's hand would go next.

"And of canoodling."

"I misspeak one time -" Aziraphale's groan rapidly dissolved into cheerful giggles from a squeezing claw to his pudgy belly.

Crowley dropped to Aziraphale's ear by resting on his elbow, all the while pinching his soft sides. "Listen here, Lover Boy," he said, low and menacing. "How 'bout we explore just how intimate laughter can be, eh?" Crowley's fingers ran ribbing relays from sternum to where his Angel writhed into the ground. "Maybe I'll miracle up some scarves and feathers? Perhaps test finger tickles and mouth tickles and find where tickles the most tickles."

"St-stop saying the word!" Aziraphale pleaded.

Crowley nudged Aziraphale's head to the side so they were cheek to cheek and his lips brushed his ear. His fingers slowed to a crawl, and did so back toward his stomach. "Does the word tickle make you more ticklish?" Crowley chuckled as he felt his friend's blush burn his cheek. "Figured as much. To think, heaven's finest, so defenseless to a bit of tickling that simply speaking the word tickles them."

Aziraphale whined.

"I ought to thank you, Angel, for this opportunity to learn all about this intimacy you were talking about. It just tickles me."

"Oh, shut up alread-eee!" Aziraphale shrieked, followed by a full-on snorting guffaw from Crowley blowing noisy raspberries into his neck and kneading his love handle at the same instant.

His feet kicked helplessly behind them. Aziraphale tugged uselessly from where his hands were trapped. Peals of laughter were coaxed out with ease as Crowley made rude noises and nibbled hungrily at his throat. He switched hands to pinch and squeeze and play with the length of his untouched side, leading to robust waves of squeaks.

"Too tickly for you?" Crowley taunted.

"I-I-I-," Aziraphale attempted to respond and fell apart again due to Crowley copying him and blowing in his ear. "Crowley!"

Smirking with pride, the demon rocked back onto his heels, releasing Aziraphale's hands but remaining hovering over his body. Crowley rested his elbows on his knees and allowed his fingers to idly brush Aziraphale's panting stomach until they were blocked by crossed arms.

"You are a nefarious hellion," Aziraphale said once breath had returned to him. He sniggered and curled from the prods his insult earned him.

"Come on, you love it. I feel closer to you already." Crowley grinned down at Aziraphale, his pupils now perfect circles. "So, have you had enough yet or shall I tickle you some more?"

A slightly goofy smile slid across Aziraphale's face. He was disheveled and buoyant. "Would you happen to be ready to admit you were wrong?" He repeated.

The little old bookshop on the corner was definitely the loudest, and happiest, building in all of Soho that evening.

[graymatters]

Triptych

M | 1.8K | On AO3 | Veela!Draco, body horror, blood, unhealthy relationship dynamics, mild sexual content 

Many thanks to @corvuscrowned for the beta work 💚 and to @floydig for all the horror chats 😂

i.

The spine of a single feather, sleek and wet with blood, erupts from the thin skin draped over my collarbone. It mocks me in the bathroom mirror, unsightly and pale quills stained pink. My shoulders droop, and my spine rounds, a weary folding beneath the weight of an unsurprising development, as a crimson droplet runs smooth down my ribs.

“Babe, are you ready to go?” Harry calls from the bedroom. He’s taken to calling me babe lately. The word knocks about in my skull, overstaying its welcome.

“What’s it called when little birds shed their feathers?” I ask my reflection, arching forward until my breath fogs the glass. My nose wrinkles at the stench, prompting a swift snatch of my toothbrush from the plastic cup on the sink.

“Er…” Harry ponders as he waltzes into the bathroom, running an aimless hand through his hair. In the reflection, I watch him smooth over my naked back and bum with heavy-lidded eyes, lips tugged upward in an appreciative grin and glasses crooked on the sunburnt bridge of his nose. I think he might be perfect, and it terrifies me.

“Mulching?”

Almost, my dear, but not quite.

“Molting, I think,” I murmur around my toothbrush, scraping the frayed bristles violently against my gums.

“That’s what I said.”

“No.” I spit, frowning at the bright blood tinting the frothy toothpaste. “Molting. Not mulching.”

“Oh,” he says, eyes widening as he looks at my chest in the mirror. And I mean looks, not the passing glance that you toss at the empty glass that’s sat on your end table for three days, not the glassy gaze of a Seeker fading into auto-pilot above the pitch. No, I’m talking about the undivided attention afforded to a tragic train derailment with dozens of fatalities, the careful pondering over a loaf of bread that may have gone off, the terrifying and wondrous stare of finding your enemy naked in your bed.

“Draco, are you bleeding?” He moves to grip my shoulders but stops when he gets a closer look, hands held mid-air as though his puppeteer got bored, hung his strings on the hook, and took a smoke break. “Is that a—”

“I never could tell if Mother was serious about the Veela blood.” I frown as Harry still stands, unmoving but for the tremble in his fingers. “Harry, why are you shaking?”

Harry doesn’t answer as I lean across the sink, poking at the delicate spine with my fingertip. He just stares dumbly at my reflection, mouth agape and eyes wide as saucers. I huff a laugh through my nose, feeling the universe’s sick sense of humor settle heavily over my bloodied chest.

“I wonder if I’ll molt.”

Read ii. & iii. below the cut.

ii.

Harry’s left the cap off the toothpaste again, leaving it to ooze onto the bathroom countertop. I could easily dismiss the caked-on paste from the porcelain. All it would take is a snap of my fingers, a muttered jumble of pseudo-Latin under my breath to make it disappear. However, a crescendo of unfortunate events through the week culminated in a Ministry-issued number that replaced my name, a reminder of the creature that replaces my identity. The thought numbs my limbs, rattles my nerves, and prickles at the remnants of my fleeting patience.

“Harry!”

“Did you say something, Draco?” he shouts from down the hall. I wait, listening for footsteps that don’t come.

“Harry! Will you come here for a minute?” A rustle of irritation blooms beneath my skin, scaly skin and ivory feathers shifting restlessly, eager to surface. With a forced sigh, I snap my eyelids shut, concentrating on pulling the musty bathroom air in and out of my lungs.

“What is it, babe? Is everything all right?”

I open my eyes, meeting my own steely gaze in the mirror. The skin over my neck, my collarbone, my temple, crawls with the anxious magic that pulses underneath, like a spider’s trapped beneath the surface. I can almost see the iridescent shimmer of that scaly skin that lurks somewhere between the delicate dermal layers that cover my neck. Harry catches my stare, his gaze soft and a sleepy smile plastered on his face. He looks at me like there isn’t ruinous blood in my veins, like the war in my body doesn’t seep out of my pores, infecting the air between us like the stench of a rotting corpse.

“Draco, what’s wrong?”

I don’t deserve him. I don’t deserve him, but he’s looking at me like he doesn’t know or doesn’t care. And this week has been so very long.

“Nothing, love.” My eyes fall to the open tube of toothpaste as I reach an unsteady hand out behind me, softening once I feel the slide of Harry’s fingers between mine.

He moves to stand behind me, wrapping his hands over my ribs and dotting honeyed kisses along my neck and shoulders like he can’t see the rustle of feathered plumes tucked deep in the sinewy fibers. Though guilt twists in my gut, strangling my lungs and wringing my heart, I ignore it, instead melting beneath Harry’s touch.

“You’re so gorgeous, Draco,” he murmurs behind my ear. “Look at you,” he whispers, softly gripping my neck beneath my jaw, forcing me to stare myself down in the mirror as his other hand dips beneath my waistband, palming my cock. “So fucking gorgeous.”

Thoughts blurred, I gasp as he ruts against my arse, as I thicken in his hand and a heady rush soothes the irritable magic that bristles beneath my skin. I groan against the pressure of his palm over my throat, feeling the vibration in my chest.

He catches my eye in the mirror, raising a brow in silent question. I nod in answer, preening at the satisfied smirk that overcomes Harry’s face as he slips a spit-slicked finger inside me, a delicious mix of pain and pleasure.

“So fucking beautiful, and you’re all mine.”

And then I hum, a pleased and pathetic whimper of a song, because I know he’s right.

iii.

The heat of the shower burns my skin, painting my limbs and the tops of my feet in a pink, watercolor flush. I let the water strip away the remnants of the evening, the cigarette smoke that clings to my hair and the grease and salt lodged beneath my fingernails. It doesn’t wash away the memories of the Weasel’s grimace, or the distasteful curl of Granger’s lip. Instead, they linger, trapped in the clouds of steam like a bird’s wings, wet with oil.

“Draco? Are you here? Awfully nice of you to run out on me like that. Ron and Hermione are sure to love you, now.”

A single, vehement beep pierces the thick air of the bathroom, cascading into a series of agonizing tones as the fire alarm protests the steam of the shower.

I look up from my spot on the tile floor, entranced by the flashing red light on the screeching machine.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Harry bursts through the door and yells over the blare of the alarm. “How long have you been in here?” He clambers onto the countertop to reach the horrid device, fumbling with the buttons before finally ripping it from its base on the ceiling. It falls to the floor; a smattering of dusty plastic shards decorates the floor on impact.

“Draco, are you even listening?”

I nod, feeling the itch of magic over my palms, the roll of frustration between my shoulder blades.

“Draco?” He opens the shower door, eyes following the stream of water that falls from the tip of my nose. “What’s wrong?”

My vision blurs, the yellow bathroom light, shining stellate over the grungy shower tile.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, eyes wide and incredulous as an unhinged laugh crawls out my lips. “Are you seriously asking me that question?”

A curl falls in his eyes, damp from the humid air. His gaze is soft, aching, like he wants to wipe away the malicious glances, the tainted blood in the rotten chambers of my heart, the ink on my arm.

Loving him is too much.

Anxious anger burns a trail starting at the tips of my fingers, drawing claws to break through the skin beneath my nails and a black, tarry flush to creep towards my elbows like my arms have been dipped in soot. I roll my neck at the feeling of hundreds of feathery needles piercing through the skin of my collarbone, my neck, my shoulders. A flash of pain, lightning hot, grips my spine as a set of wings punctures the surface between my shoulder blades, hanging low in the tight space of the shower.

The water runs red, my back hot from the wash of blood.

With a guttural roar, I whip towards Harry, wanting to squeeze his ribs between my disfigured hands and feel the stutter of his breath.

But he doesn’t move, he doesn’t turn to walk away. In fact, rather than a look of fear or disgust, Harry watches me the same way Mother watched me when my pet Kneazle died, devoured by the Nepenthes. Like I’m still a child who doesn’t know what to do with his hurt.

“Draco, I’m sorry—”

“You’re in love with a fucking monster, Harry. Why are you even here?” A heat burns beneath my palms as I grip the frame of the shower.

Harry sighs, taking a slow and careful step forward to shut off the water, leaving a slow trickle to caress the smooth surface of my wings.

“Come here, Draco,” he whispers, gesturing for me to step out of the shower. “Come on, babe; I’ve got you.”

Loving him is too much. Too much to weather. Too much to resist.

I tumble into his arms, catching a blood-stained, ivory wing on the shower door and jostling Harry’s glasses. As the fog of the mirror clears, I watch as my face appears, nose elongated and eyes pitch-black, the skin of my neck and arms cracked where the feathers have broken through the layers like an iceberg piercing the sea. With a stuttered sob, I grip Harry’s shoulders and tuck my face into his neck, unable to contain myself anymore.

I’m not sure how long we huddle on the bathroom floor, cramped between the toilet and the shower. Long enough for the feathers to recede beneath my skin, for my wings to fold in on themselves and lie soft against my back. The sun has long set, shrouding the bathroom in darkness, as Harry still runs his hands through my hair, untangling the knots as he whispers lovely reassurances into my ear and presses kisses over my jaw.

“Draco, I love you, you know that?”

“Of course, I do.”

“What do you need, Draco?”

“I don’t know.”

“Need me, then. It’s that easy. Draco, just—need me.”

I nod, a trembling and stuttered admission, because I know he’s right.

Also on AO3.

[siriusmydeer]

Hey! Could you do a Regulus fluff with the prompt 17. “This reminded me of you.”

from a boy, to a man

regulus black x fem!reader

summary: regulus finds his way back to you after destroying the horcruxes.

word count: 2.0k

warnings: mentions of self harm (bleeding, scratching, scabs), insinuations of depression, mentions of anxiety, self hatred, poor mental health/not taking care of ones self, angst-fluff

a/n: amelia amelia i wanna kiss u thank u sm for helping me baby @fives-cup-of-coffee

dark stygian swirls. the infinite markings submerged in his pallid sickly flesh that had healed prolongingly into a lustre of peach. but the black branding lay delineated, every curvature, every edge lay as detailed as when it had first been cursed into his complexion.

the relevance of scrubbing his nails against the dermis until it scalded the nerve endings in his left forearm had become insignificant. the carmine scabs fading over time but the reminder of his baleful past prompting his memory.

the branding was the only thing that could make him clutch his arm in a bashful sense. yet the only talisman evoking his senses to remain his strong demeanour was the minuscule silver-plated band that lay on his thumb tightly.

jewelry. it was your familiarity.

necklaces, rings, earrings, they all somehow coordinated with you, your essence. something complimentary to you complexion, soothing important to your family as they were heirs.

when strolling the corridors you received the compliments, it was rather flattering. it was something people began to notice over some time, but you never had owned a bracelet. it was common to own bracelets such as heirlooms but you had never received such an entity until the age of eleven.

august 28th, 1971

the sun was fading into the familiar evening hues of feverish vermillion and a slow fading shade of apricot blending into the sky. the prelude to dawn at its beginning while you gaped at it intensely, the fresh pricks of grass hitting your bottom under the shell-pink dress you had been dressed in as well as the small gusts of wind looming through the air as a small reminder of where you had been rather than slipping into your mind into an abyss of daydreams.

the wind began to increase, hitting the delicacy of your skin. the little nips at your skin producing a small shiver from the curvature of your spine to the muscles in your legs. the moment was serene, like something you read about in fairytale books about a princess awaiting her prince, almost silent. until a faint boyish voice had interrupted the tranquillity.

“’ve got a gift for you.”

your body slightly sprung at the sound interrupting the deep prolonged silence. You began to crane your neck behind you, a short boy awaiting for you to glimpse at him, your eyes were met with deep aquamarine irises that swirled in the hues of virescent green and cerulean blue. a small twinkle found carved into his irises in them at your attention.

“regulus,” you muttered, viewing as the boy sat next to you with something particularly large clutched in his hand.

he held up a gold circlet with intricate detailing that had been engraved in the brass item. as well as an emerald gem placed directly in the centre. the main focus of the bracelet, if you will. your brows began to force together into a pronounced frown, your optics glancing from his digits clutched around the object to his features, his shell-pink lips fixed into a quirk as well as a small gleam of virtue flaring in his irises  

“what’s this for?” you began to query, taking the rather dense manacle into your palm and staring at it for a moment. “it’s a bracelet, i know that you don’t have any so i got you one.” he retorted faintly, a small sense of pride and adoration swelling in his belly. but he wasn't of age to particularly identify those feelings yet.

“think of it as a present, before school starts.”

your face steadily began to upturn at his endeavours, a scramble of letters trying to escape the cavern of your mouth in a enliven venture to thank him for his doting thoughts about you.

the memory becomes a slow fading blear as recollects his thoughts and narrows his eyes in a sneer at his maimed reflection. the caliginous imprint taunting regulus through the obstruct mirror, his hand beginning to clutch over the mantle flesh ensuing the laceration that had been flung under the downpour of searing water minutes prior.

he recollected every detailed moment of that night, the way your eyes glimpsed at the bracelet every couple of seconds in elation. even at eleven years old in a floral shell-pink dress, in the distance you looked so angelic. he didn't know as an eleven-year-old boy and now only loathed himself for realizing so much later in life.

following his departure, he had glimpsed down at the silver ring that was clung onto his thumb that you had gifted following the bracelet, a ring he had to move around several fingers till it fit perfectly again. this incident similar to a parallel between scenarios. the small band holding himself together in a way that couldn't be understood by another.

the girl he had loved, adorned, the girl that was now a woman who had let him weep into her shoulder, the woman who made sure that he would take care of his body to keep it in a healthy state, the girl that was now a woman that would cheer for him amid his quidditch games till her throat was raw, the girl who was now a woman whom he still had loved wasn’t there to clutch onto his arm and whisper to him that everything was going to be alright.

the subconscious that laid embedded into your skull was subsequently pivoting in rapid twists till it was firmly knotted without anymore pondering to be completed. the footprint of where the boy had once been subtly faded without a trace as to where, the boy who grew into a man with mangled black tendrils that sat in entangled twists, the man with a structured jaw whilst he was old enough to spew out curse words to his mother, the boy who was now a man who you loved had vanished beneath your fingertips without a trace.

the man that was once a boy had taken a vow that potentially concluded his life and vanished for, ‘your safety,’ as he pronounced before departing from your vapid figure. the last i love you escaping from his lips as a final message in case it would be the last time you would hear it from him.

then you became alone, all fucking alone.

he huffed whilst pacing almost becoming nauseated, crackling at his knuckles due to the submerging coarse of anxiety running thickly through his blood. it was enough to swivel into the crevices of his spine and sprawl into his brain like sporadically placed letters in an intense game of pool, his mind configuring ways on how to address you after almost a year of his blatant absence.

the minuscule of a second he had after the duration of his completed mission, regulus had ventured to find almost every piece of detailed information that had been absent in his mind for the last ticking days where he hadn’t spoken to you. almost as if he hadn’t played the recurrent memory of you laughing at his foolish jokes in the slytherin common room in the deep hours of the night following a few hushed whispers, in a recurrent loop to the point where he could recall every faint characteristic that you had worn with pride.

your thumbs were absentmindedly twiddling in an abyss-like daydream, similar to the ones you had as a young girl, the collision of decrepit wood and firm knuckles splintering the perpetuating silence that had sunken depressingly into your flat. a look of puzzlement contorted onto your features, you paused and speculated as to whom was at your apartment as you weren't used to having such visitors.

opting to leisurely trudge to the door in exhaustion, the door had revealed regulus arcturus black with an ivory box clutched in his hand and a nervous grin quirked on his lips. you stopped, taken back for a moment. a revelling thought peering into your conscious mind to ultimately shut the door closed and pretend this moment, the moment that you had dreamed of till the early hours in the morning wasn’t occurring. instead, grappling at his hand and pulling him into a close-knit embrace till you could feel like hast respires in his chest along with the palpitating beats of his trembling heart against your sternum.

he sighed in relief, his hands melding into the curvature of your waist. the tension in your frame gradually disentangling from the days that had surpassed without the boy who was now a man, a man with a sallow complexion and sickly carved features stood in front of you with now a tearful grin that was almost quivering awaiting forgiveness that he was frightful he would never receive.

“what have you done to yourself, regulus?” your hands melded into the sharp curvature of his cheeks, the balmy embrace of your hands warming his figure like a camper that had created fire without months of warmth. his optics began to gape at the floor of your flat, ignoring your question with the clearness of his throat.

“nevermind me, this reminded me of you.” he clarified while bringing the box into your viewpoint. “regulus.” you pardoned him but taking a grasp on the box and setting it down on the oak-wood table with a small ‘clink.’

“what’s happened to you— why didn’t you come back for me?”

“i was scared, i didn’t want to leave you. i promise you that, i just— i didn’t want to come back and you would hate me.” regulus confessed with a stutter, a mild nervous tic he had obtained when he was young. as well as when he ventured to drag his slender fingers between his swoop of curls but found it rather difficult as they were mangled together.

you frowned disquietly. the boy that had endured your whines, and your tantrums as to when a fifth-year hufflepuff had ticked you off rather irritatingly. the boy who was now a man, whom you had loved, and he knew you had loved. continued to think that you had hated him when that had been opposite.

"I don't hate you, reg. I never have, I don't think you can hate the person i love the most." his hands fell back in place to the contour of your waistline, the palms of his hands steadily dragging themselves in a comforting motion while your fingers delicately pushed into his hair.

“your hairs a mess, reg,” you observed with a sated smile, the smallest of a chuckle escaping his lips after his mouth had almost been sewn shut by voldemort himself. the thought of regulus laughing could’ve turned heads now because of how unusual and unfamiliar the sound was. but it was the same child-like giggle he expressed on the hogwarts train several years ago.

“yeah,” he chuckled again, louder this time. he felt the small indulging swirls coming up from his eyes, the downpour of tears almost cascading down his cheeks before he brought his digits to slide them across his sockets, “brush it for me? like old times?”

he wasn’t sad anymore, he didn’t feel dejected, he didn’t feel the urge to lay in a bed that was poorly made with creased sheets and never get up again, the tears threatening his face were delightful ones. they were tears of elation, that the girl who was now a woman had remainingly loved him.

he was home, an unfamiliar concept now wrapping him in an unyielding enclasp. regulus was home.

he sat upon a bench, looking at a reflection no longer splintered with guilt, or narrowing eyes. his eyes moved in an upward motion, his irises seeing the way you languidly dragged a brush through his tuffs and a small smile quirking at your lips.

“i love you, too. i didn’t want you to think i forgot.”

taglist: @fific7 @kittykylax @wisedreamcatcher @ronbrokemyheart @amourtentiaa @five-cups-of-coffee @serenitywilderness @i-love-scott-mccall @artemis1orion @miss-starkov @siriusbarnesslut @famdomhideout @hufflepogue @kirascottage @luvvninaz @miraclesoflove @black-like-my-soul @slytherclawbitch @90steaology

[dreamerstreamer]

Friendly Figure

Pairing: Fundy x gn!reader (can be read as both romantic & platonic!)

Summary: [Dream SMP!AU] While Fundy may have had more than his fair share of poor fatherly figures, he’s more than grateful to have you.

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: this was requested by an anon who wanted a story surrounding fundy’s life story within the smp! this ended up being a fun combination of a character study with an actual story, and i loved it. i hope you enjoy, as well!

You waved your arm eagerly as you sank your teeth into another bite of delicious pumpkin pie. “Bye, Niki!” you called out between muffled chews. “Thanks for the pie!”

A few yards away, you saw her wave back, raising a hand to cup her mouth as she yelled back. “You’re welcome! I’ll see you two tomorrow!”

You sent her one last wide grin before turning on your heel, twirling your fork in your hands as you set off down the path once more. Niki really did make the best pie.

You hummed as you watched the sun dip below the horizon, the sky painted with fading streaks of salmon and lavender. Beside you, Fundy grumbled, his ears flicking atop his head in annoyance as he eyed the plate in your hands. “Why did you get an extra slice and I didn’t?”

You raised a brow at him, shooting him an unimpressed look. “Because you didn’t ask, nimrod.” Pointing your fork at him, you scoffed. “If you did, I bet Niki would have handed one over, no questions asked.”

He wrinkled his nose, at you a scowl stretching across his face. “‘Nimrod’?” he parroted. “You’ve been hanging out too much with Karl.”

You stabbed your fork into the pie in your hands, watching as the crust crumbled delectably onto your plate. “What can I say? He’s nice!”

Fundy looked appalled. “And I’m not?”

You stared at him, blinking for a moment, then shrugged, a teasing glint dancing across your eyes. “Eh. You’re alright, I guess.”

He glowered, raising his arms as you took a cautionary step back. “Why, you little—”

“Fundy!”

You and Fundy both stopped dead in your tracks, your fork dropping onto your plate with a clatter. Your eyes met, and a mutual look of discomfort passed between your gazes.

You would recognize that voice anywhere.

Slowly, the two of you turned, your gazes landing on a familiar worn yellow sweater, the cloth fraying at the edges after years of wear. In front of you, you could only stare as Ghostbur jogged up to Fundy, his dark, near-translucent eyes glimmering with hope.

Fundy coughed, trying and failing to hide the discomfort growing on his face as he offered a small wave. “Uh, hi, Ghostbur.”

Ghostbur’s pale lips curled into a frown, his brows furrowing. “Why the long face?” He leaned over, gently elbowing Fundy’s side, missing the way his son stiffened at his touch. “Aren’t you excited to see me?”

Fundy lurched back, clutching at where he had been touched. “Not really.”

Ghostbur let out a small whine, his shoulders drooping. “Aw, come on. Why don’t we have some father-son bonding time together?” He sent him a goofy grin, his eyes twinkling with nostalgia. “You know, just like the old days.”

You heart ached at the pain that flickered across Fundy’s face, his ears pressing flat against his head. There were no father-son bonding times when Wilbur was alive—at least not the kind that ended with actual bonding.

Fundy shuffled back a bit, and you instinctively took a step closer to his side. “No thanks,” he muttered softly, averting his eyes to the ground. “I’d rather not.”

Ghostbur’s smile faltered, and something sad flashed through his gaze. “Ah, um, w-well, maybe we could catch up?” A tinge of desperation seeped into his tone, and he lifted a shaky hand toward him. “I haven’t seen you in a whi—“

Fundy raised a hand, and Ghostbur fell silent. “I’m good, thanks.” He offered him a smile, but it was strained and didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I actually think I’m gonna get going now. Bye.”

Before Ghostbur could even think to respond, he dropped his hand, whipping around and striding away. You blinked, your head still reeling with everything that had happened as you watched Fundy walk off. Tightening your grip on your plate, you took a step forward to follow after him when a quiet voice stopped you.

“[Y/N],” Ghostbur said, his voice coming out small.

You stiffened, then turned, swallowing as you sent him a wary glance over your shoulder. “Yes, Ghostbur?”

The moment his name left your lips, you froze, your jaw going slack. The light had left his eyes, and he only stared down at the ground with a vacant gaze, his hands limp at his sides.

You’d never seen Ghostbur look so... sad. So miserable. He looked defeated—broken. Then again, maybe he was.

Did Fundy really affect him so much?

“Please,” he said softly, so quietly that you could have mistaken it for a breeze. “Please tell me.”

He raised his head, and a pang of sorrow ran through your heart as he took a weary step toward you, his hand gripping at the fabric over his heart. “Where did I go wrong? What did I do to make him hate me so much?”

You blinked at him, pondering, then glanced down at the half-eaten slice of pie on your plate. A frown skittered across your face. You didn’t have much of an appetite, anymore. Sucking in a deep breath, you looked back at him.

“Ghostbur,” you said, “just like how there are some things we cannot change, there are some wounds we cannot mend, no matter how much we try. Your relationship with Fundy is one of them.”

He frowned, a sour gleam flashing in his ghostly eyes. “That’s not fair. I don’t want him to hate my like this forever.”

Something bitter rippled through you, and you snapped, “What you did to him wasn’t fair either, Ghostbur, but there’s no fixing that now.”

He flinched at your sudden shift in tone, and you almost wanted to apologize. Almost. Swallowing, he dropped his gaze to the ground, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “Was I really so cruel?”

You stared at him for a few long moments. Then, you opened your mouth, and what came out was tasted like ice on your tongue.

“Yes. You were.”

Before you could feel even a grain of pity for him, you flipped around on your heel, striding off in the direction Fundy had left. How dare he be so upset that his son hated him when he was the one who made it so. You had seen it all, had seen every despicable choice he made as he chose to neglect his son, as he chose to abandon your best friend.

You couldn’t pity him—you would not allow yourself to.

Taking a shaky breath, you squeezed your fork a little tighter as you made your way down the walkway in search of Fundy. You already knew where he was—of course you knew. What kind of best friend would you be if you didn’t?

The sun had long set by now, and above you the stars twinkled like tiny, flickering candles. You trudged along the dark path, accompanied only by the moon’s soft light before you suddenly veered off the trail. Pushing past the low-hanging branches of the forest, you finally stepped up onto the cliffside, spotting Fundy sitting with his back leaning against yours and his favourite tree back from when you were little.

With a small twitch of your lips, you walked up to him, watching as his ears flicked in your direction. You could never surprise him, as much as you may try, so you simply settled into the space next to him, setting your pie down next to you. He was staring out over the forest below, his legs dangling freely off the edge. You tilted your head at him, then spoke.

“Hey, bud,” you said softly, your eyes scanning the somber look on his face. “You doing alright?”

His gaze flit to yours, then back over the cliff once more. “Sort of. Ish. I guess.”

You sent him an unconvinced look, and he paused, then let a loose sigh escape his lips. “No, not really.”

Leaning back, you offered him a weary smile. “Yeah, I figured. That chat with Ghostbur didn’t go over so well.”

Slowly, he pulled back his legs, curling them up to his chest and resting his head atop his knees. “I know he means well, but it just makes me feel sick, the way he talks to me. It’s not his fault, I know, but I...” He swallowed. “I—“

“It’s okay,” you murmured, reaching over to squeeze his shoulder. “You don’t have to explain. I get it.”

He sent you a thankful grin, then his smile fell. Scooting back a bit further, he looked up at the stars, his expression thoughtful. “You know,” he said suddenly, “my experiences with dads has been kind of awful.”

You blinked at him, stunned, then blurted, “You just realized?”

He laughed, his ivory grin glinting in the moonlight. “No, but I think talking to Ghostbur today really got me thinking about it more.” His tail flicked behind him. “Growing up, I always felt like I just had to please Wilbur—like I had to be the best for him.” An almost hopeful look overtook his features. “After all, I was his little champion, right?”

He bit the inside of his cheek. “But he never paid any attention to me. He was always focused on fighting wars and becoming president and—“ He sucked in a deep breath. “—and then he died.”

He furrowed his brows, and you could practically hear his train of thought speeding forward. “Looking back, I can hardly remember a single good thing he did for me. I mean, he wasn’t so bad when I was a baby and stuff, but when I needed him most, he was just...” He paused. “...gone.”

Suddenly, he whipped his head up and turned to look at you. “And then don’t even get me started with Eret. You know, I trusted him.” He held up a hand, gesturing wildly as his tail stood up straight. “He was actually nice to me, [Y/N]. He listened to me and gave me good advice, just like a real dad would. Then the papers came and... and... nothing.”

He stopped, his voice dropping to a tiny whisper. “Again.”

For a moment, he was silent. Then, he let out a long, bitter laugh.

“Oh,” he said, his tone growing wistful, “nothing’s changed, has it?” He ran a hand through his messy hair, his eyes growing glossy in the moonlight, “I’m all alone, just like before.”

Just like that, your heart snapped into two, and you opened your mouth. “That’s not true, Fundy.”

The look he sent you was full of nothing but pure anguish. “It is, isn’t it? I’m just the forgotten son—“ He held up two fingers. “—twice over, now. No one wants me, no one at a—“

Before he could finish, he was cut off by you barreling straight into him, knocking him flat onto his back. Your arms caged him in as you panted over him, your eyes vividly scanning his as he stared at you in shock.

“Fundy,” you breathed, desperation soaking your words, “listen to me. You’ve changed. You’re stronger now, more resilient, and I see that.”

Slowly, you snaked a hand up to rest against his face, your palm pressed against this cheek. “I want you, Fundy. I’m here with you—I always have been, and I always will be.”

Your gaze hardened as it bore into his, steadfast and true. “And as long as I’m by your side, you will never be alone.”

He blinked up at you, his lips parted in awe. Then, ever so slowly, a smile, small but sincere, spread across his face. “Thank you, [Y/N],” he whispered.

Crawling back, you reached a hand out toward him, your smile widening as he grasped it in his. “Anytime, buddy.”

With a grunt, you pulled him forward until he was sitting upright once more. “You know what?” he said abruptly as you let go of his hand.

You cocked your head at him, your eyebrows knitting together. “Hm?”

Fundy flashed you a bright grin, lopsided and goofy in all the right ways. “Who needs a father figure when I have you?”

Your eyes widened as you sputtered, “W-What?”

His gaze suddenly grew serious. “You’re all I need. You’re like...” He trailed off, searching for the right words. “...my friendly figure.”

A few seconds passed in silence as you blinked at him. Then, you burst into laughter, not missing the way his tail bristled at the sound. “Fundy,” you wheezed, “that’s a horrible name.”

He shot you an irritable look. “Well, do you have a better one?”

Your laughter slowly came to a halt, and your eyes crinkled at the corners. “Yes,” you said. “A best friend.”

He looked at you for a moment, then smiled back. “I like that one better.”

Suddenly, you turned, reaching out to your side. “You know what’s even better than that, though?”

His ears twitched. “What?”

When you turned, you held a familiar plate in your hands, a giggle threatening to bubble out of your throat as you took in his shocked expression. “Some pie.” You shoved a fork in his face—a new one. “Here, we can finish it together.”

He sent you a quizzical look, disbelief clouding his features. “Since when did you have a second fork?”

Without missing a beat, you stabbed the new fork into the soft, flaky dessert and held it up to his lips. “No questions. Only pie.”

He blinked at you for another moment, then grinned, opening his mouth wide for you to shovel some pie in.

You really were all he needed.