#the man truly does have a ... magnificent one

[kumishona]

are you even a bengali chainsaw man enjoyer if you don’t perpetually just call hayakawa “jhuti” instead

[shiny-jr]

from POMEFIORE

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader. 

- Characters: Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Epel Felmier.

- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.

- Note: Hoping its not too out of character.

Ignihyde   |   Pomefiore   |   Scarabia

Perfume. The carefully sealed envelope reeked of it, like the sweet smell of lavender with spice. The envelope containing the message looked like something you would find when getting an invitation to a ball or a wedding. The envelope was pristine, and the wax sealing it was done so perfectly without a single awkward edge.

It almost looked unnatural with how perfect it appeared. The thick beige parchment was cut evenly, and not a blot of ink strayed from the elegantly curved cursive words that looked like ribbons upon the page. Looks could be deceiving. It was beautiful, but as you might've already guessed, the interior didn't entirely match what was hidden beneath the surface.

To my darling player,

I am at fault and take full responsibility for my actions.

All I've ever wished for, was to admire you. You are the epitome of magnificence, divinity that I can only dream to one day achieve but knowing I will never truly reach. There's an otherworldly sort of allure to you, which drew me in far too close. Much like the man who enhanced himself with wings of wax, but flew too close to the sun so his wings melted and he met a terrible fate. You are the sun, and I was that reckless fool with fake wings.

I allowed myself to get too close, tainting your light with my imperfect presence. Your grace was the warm sunlight on my skin, when everything around me was a horrible darkness. To think, I attempted to put out that light. It was nearly diminished. For that, I should be burned. I'm sorry, so so sorry.

I've thought long and hard on what I could possibly say to you, what sort of response could be adequate enough considering what you mean to me and the delicate situation. It didn't take long for me to arrive to the answer: no response is fitting. It doesn't matter if I pen a letter long enough to rival the river of tears I shed, coat the envelope in gold and ink of silver, with a message that would have moved the seven themselves to weep. It does not change the betrayal that occurred. I betrayed the trust you gave me, and shattered it into millions of pieces. However, know that I'll be on my hands and knees piecing it back together again, even if the shards cause me to bleed, you are worth it.

The stabbing sensation on my skin would be nothing compared to the one in my heart that I feel when I consider the fact that you might despise me. There's nothing more I would want than to see your face, hold your hands and feel the warmth of your skin that's so unlike the coldness of your vessel. Requesting a meeting would be imperious, as I have no right to ask you of this. But if I could, I would love to see you and discuss what comes next, perhaps over lunch. This is just a thought, a wish of mine, but one you are not required to fulfill.

I'd love to believe that I know you and your vessel better than anyone else could even dream of understanding, but I know that is far from the truth. Even as I pampered and polished your precious doll, your secrets continue to escape me. Did you ever hear me, when I brushed and washed Yuu's hair? When I took their freezing cold hands and painted their nails? When kneeled down in front of them to polish their shoes? When I adorned the best luxuries of brand accessories on their body?

I would kneel down to no one else.

There was always this wish, a dream of mine, that one day I might perhaps one day get to pamper you. Not Yuu. But you. Is that a scandalous desire?

Your hands would be warm, and I would hold them as I file your nails. Your arm wouldn't be so rigid and mechanical, you could actually extend it as I slather a creamy scented lotion along your skin. And if you do desired, I could lift your head and apply lipstick to your lips... This is just the process I commonly used while your vessel was under my care.

Although, I would gladly take up the responsibility of nursing you back to health, or any other role you would give me. There are countless things I can accomplish for you. I commonly deal in potent poisons, but I can just as well deal in healing and comforting. I'm skilled in self-defense and various forms of magic, so I can be your companion to protect you from everything that would wish you harm. You know of my business in acting and singing, so even if you wanted nothing else I could be there to entertain or serenade you. I only wish to be with you again, even though I know I'm underserving. I'm selfish.

If you want nothing more, then I have to be satisfied knowing I was in your thoughts for a brief moment. A twisted part of me wants your mind to be plagued by thoughts of me, just as my mind and heart is full of you.

I have to remind myself, that by getting too close I risk being burnt. But, at this point, I do not care for my own safety. I only care for yours, and I do this to keep my sanity. I truly admire you so much, that I cannot adore you from afar behind a rope like sculpture in a museum. I have to stand nearby, inspect your beauty, polish you to a shine, and value you like the priceless treasure that you are. Should someone threaten to chip off even the slightest speck on you, forcing you through more suffering...

I will shatter them into a million pieces, to preserve your peace.

Yours,

Vil Schoenheit

The wonderful aromatic smell that filled your nose brought back some not so pleasant memories. The smell of the earth beneath your feet, the scent of dew collected on every still surface, but above all were fragrant tangs that immediately alerted you to any nearby presence of a student belonging to Pomefiore.

They had chased you through those deep dark woods, like a pack of rabid hounds tracking and hunting a poor wounded rabbit. Besides their shouts and footfall, their perfume gave them away. There was one in particular which you only caught a whiff of only when you had too closely encountered the dormleader. The scent of lavender and spice hit your nose, the same fragrance on the letter.

"That reeks! Burn it!" A certain feline hissed, covering his little black nose with his paws. You swore the fragrance was beginning to form a migraine at the front of your skull. If the smell was strong for you, it must've been much worse for Grim since he had a superior sense of smell.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, if the smell wasn't that strong and it wasn't the particular scent. Like vanilla or freshly baked bread. If that were the case, Grim might've insisted on keeping it or even be tempted to take a bite out of the sheet.

But it was lavender and spice. So the letter was tossed into a corner several feet away, left to an unknown fate that you would ultimately decide later. When you glanced back to Grim, you saw him holding and sniffing another letter.

For a long moment his sniffed the rolled up paper, his black nose twitching as he was likely just searching for another gift to claim as a snack. After a few seconds, he discarded it, sliding it over to you before he opted to dig through the pile like a raccoon digging into a heap of trash. "Meh, this one smells boring."

"Boring, huh?"

Boring wouldn't exactly be your choice of adjectives to describe this letter. It wasn't an envelope, it was a scroll tied by ribbon, attached to an arrow. An arrow, of all things, was likely the messenger for this message. Thankfully, this one didn't smell of anything. Even without a fragrance to match to a profile, the arrow was a dead giveaway.

Opening it up and using your hands to smooth out the curled edges, you blatantly ignored the wax seal over the ribbon. Once it was fully unsealed, a few single flower petals drifted down from the paper. Just another mess you would sweep up later and decide whether to dispose of it or not, like the first letter from the dormleader. For this one you were a pinch anxious. The sender was not like the others who came before.

Trickster,

It relieves me to see that you are finally safe.

To see you rest and heal in tranquility, nothing steadies my anxiously beating heart more than knowing you are sheltered. Well guarded by a trio of ghosts and the courageous feline Grim, I have no need to stress over your wellbeing with them acting as your valiant knights in shining armor! Although, I would also wish to join their ranks, blessed by your grace and fit to serve as your shield. However...

I am conscious enough to know that I am nowhere near fitting, no matter how much I may wish to reach out and shield you from every evil. In that most vital moment, I had failed to recognize you. I may have spared you from the sharpness of my blade, but I couldn't have guarded you from the suffering that was to come afterwards.

I'm so deeply and truly sorry. Many sleepless nights have followed, since and even before our first fateful encounter in those woods of the Pomefiore estate. Before our encounter, I was conflicted. I wanted to detest you, but I could not, I thought there must be a reason this was all occurring. I couldn't slumber peacefully, so long as I knew there was turbulence surrounding your beloved vessel. After our encounter, I couldn't get the vision of you fragile, frightened, and wounded, out of my mind. Raising a blade against you, who were a stranger shrouded in infamy, made my very heart stop.

Now I know why I was so unexplainably drawn to you. It was not due to the wild frenzy that overtook the entire campus, or a burning hatred to destroy, or even my own desire to discover answers I desperately wanted, although that last one may have played a role. The reason as to I was so enticed by you, a cunning 'imposter,' was because my heart recognized you. It must have been my very soul that pulled me towards you, and perhaps my own nature as well. My body recognized you, my heart and my soul led me to you, but I was blinded by my sorrows.

Throughout the few years I've had on this wonderful earth, I've seen countless peoples, and you are unlike any of which I've seen. In the places I've been, I have witnessed poetry be written by masters of literacy, melodies sung by the most angelic voices ever heard on a stage, and devoted worshippers in holy places kneel in solemn prayer. Somehow you as a single being, or entity, encompass all those elements into one. My aim is to admire beauty, and I see beauty in its finest form when I look at you.

I truly understand what you mean to me, and to others.

But at the same time, you remain a mystery. And I believe I'm speaking for all those who admire you when I say this. We could only dream of truly understanding you, when we only had Yuu.

So, I try to make sense of it all in what I do understand, in the beautiful things I adore that I associate with you who I cherish. In literature, music, photography, I see you in everything all at once. When I read poetic lines, I think I could share it with you. When I hear beautiful music, I imagine you might enjoy listening to the tune too. When I discover stunning sceneries, I plan to bring you there someday to share a moment with you.

Now, I can make sense of it. I understand how the poets of old felt as they penned the love and awe they felt towards the Fairest Queen. It's a rare sentiment that cannot easily be put into words, a feeling as if it held my delicate heart and squeezed when I so much as thought of you. When a song and its composer can bring an audience to tears, I understand that now too. Hearing your voice for the first time, formed a knot in my throat that prevented me from saying much. Catching that first glimpse of you, was like gazing at a perfect painted portrait hanging in a museum.

My dearest player, I am a Hunt. I am naturally inquisitive by nature, and my fondness for you comes just as naturally. You may consider it wrong, but I will continue to offer my loyalty even if you may not accept it.

My aim is to one day unlock your secrets, solve your mysteries, and understand you fully, learn what makes you tick and what drives you forward. Perhaps when the day comes when you've forgiven me for my crimes, I can proudly stand in your presence and recite the poems I have written in your name. I could admire you everyday from then on, and remind you everyday of your worth. Then, I will protect you, from all harm, and I will not allow myself to fail you once again. This is a promise.

Should you need me, I will be there.

Yours,

Rook Hunt

There was something that felt... off. Compared to some of the previous letters, these were rather tame. Of course, there was the desperation and fascination evident in their words captured by the ink, but it was nowhere near as extreme as other cases.

Although, it was still chilling, to read the thoughts they penned.

In your hand you held the arrow the letter had been connected to, feeling its thin shape and the sharpened head at its tip that nearly pricked your finger. The vice dormleader had excellent aim, and had he not been so kind, arrows like this one in your hand could've easily been driven through your flesh and caught you against a tree where you would've been helpless in their grasps.

And yet, despite the opportunities he had, he didn't let a single weapon touch you. All it would take was one arrow, one moment and he could've ended you where you stood. But he spared you. However, there's the lingering doubt that maybe the primary reason he did it was he hoped you had answers to the malfunctioning vessel. You couldn't be sure exactly why he spared you, when everyone had wanted to torment and imprison you or worse.

Beside you, there's a large crunch and a content purr. When you look over, there's Grim, happily munching away on an apple he held with his little paws. He sank his fangs into the fruit, content that he finally found an offering that appeased him. In front of him was a small basket, filled with more juicy red apples.

"These are great! And, even though I was the one who found them, I'll let you have some!" Grim picked up another apple from the basket, sticking his claws into the red peel and offering it with his little grin. Nevermind the fact that these were probably meant as a gift for you and not for him, but you didn't mind. They would have likely ended up in the trash anyways, at least someone could enjoy them.

"You should really have one. You haven't eaten all day."

"I'm not hungry, but thanks. You can have them." Ever since everything happened, you weren't too keen on accepting gifts, especially if they were consumable. For now, the only places you'd accept food from, was the cafeteria you'd venture too at the dead of night when no one was there, or Sam's shop.

In the spot of the basket where Grim had removed the apple, there was a white layer at the bottom of the basket. Perplexed, you reached in and found an envelope hidden by the piled apples.

Unsurprisingly, the envelope smelled of sweet things, apples, cinnamon, and freshly baked pies. The envelope itself was nothing special, it had no intricate wax seal or marking. It was loosely sealed shut by a brown piece of string, and covered in some white and pink apples blossoms.

The inside was less impressive, more authentic, which was refreshing in a way. Smooth cursive flowed into slightly choppy print scrawled out in uneven lines, before eventually returning back to cursive at the end of some sentences. It appears parts were rushed judging by the blotted ink stains at multiple periods. The apples were a clue as to who the sender may be, but why would the letter be hidden in a gift?

Dear Player,

If you're reading this, that means my letter got through.

Where do I even start? It seems right that I first say sorry. I'm sorry. It sounds like a load of bull, but I am sorry. Apologizing in all these other ways, won't make this any better, so, I thought this might help. I'm gonna be completely honest with you, no lies, no tricks, just the blunt truth. I'm not going to be showing you these pretty sides I polished to impress and to mask all the ugly. I'll tell you everything that's been going on. That's something only I have the guts to do.

The reason I hid this letter was because Vil and Rook have been checking anything I want to write to you. They want to keep up this positive front, they wanna at least pretend to be perfect enough to be near you. At least, that's what I think. Although I know we won't ever come close to that.

Instead of trying to write a real and honest letter for you, it feels like I was writing some essay for Professor Trein to grade. I'd have to write and write, and even if the grammar was right, the message wasn't. They want to make you think everything's okay, when it's not. I can only imagine what elegant crap they were spewing in their own fancy letters, while we're actually all a mess. We've been like this since Yuu broke down. I try to understand them, and in a way I do, but sometimes they freak me out. Yeah, I got my own problems trying to comprehend all this chaos, but they're different.

Is everyone else in the other dorms this extreme? This miserable and on the verge of breaking? Maybe you won't believe me, or maybe you'll realize that there's some truth to what I'm saying. Here, in Pomefiore, I can only tell you what I've seen. These days, Rook's smile seems strained, like he's about to snap, his eyes are sharp and watchful. The only time his smile is normal is when he's looking at some photo, but he won't ever let me see what it is. Vil, well, the only sign he's still alive and kicking are the packages that come in for him, new makeup and all that stuff, things he's using to craft that perfect mask. I did see him one night out in the hall, I swear there was mascara down his face but I was too put off to approach when he was like that.

Don't ever tell them I told you all this. Vil would probably skin me alive and wear me as a robe, and Rook... I don't want to think about what he would do... I'm kidding by the way, but seriously, don't ever tell them. I told you I would be honest to you, so here's my reason. I thought that maybe telling you all this would score me points with you, get you to trust me again. Even if this is a rotten way to go about it, I don't care.

I am rotten, and I won't hide it like them.

If I can't even be honest with you, then do I really deserve a second chance at all?

Scratch that. I don't deserve a second chance at all after everything that happened. What I did was downright terrible, but I'm trying my damnedest to be deserving again. And I won't stop trying, even if part of me thinks it's useless. I never cared for Yuu, the only reason I acted for them was because it was you behind them. My goal is to eventually be beside you, the real you.

Although, a basket of apples is a crummy way to go about things, but think of it like a peace offering. Just cause I can't get word to you, don't mean I give up. I'm not giving up. Ever. Everyone's going about their own roundabout ways of mending things. If you want to hear more, I'll gladly tell you. I don't think anyone else would tell you the truth of what's happening, because in a sense everyone wants to appeal to you with the best image of themselves they can possible portray. Don't believe all the hogwash they send you. If whoever sends something and seems to be stable, they're not. Not completely.

I'm awfully ashamed to admit it, but I'm not okay. Not since everything started, and not since everything went to hell when shit hit the fan. I'm not okay without you, and I got myself to blame for that.

This letter is helping. The thought of communicating with you again, even if I can't see your face or hear your voice and its reduced to words on paper, it's more than I could ask for. So, if you want me to spill the beans, just ask. If not, if there's no response, well, I'll get a bit of comfort thinking you might've read this. Besides, I have hope with each attempt I'll make. I'm not just rottenly selfish, I'm stubborn to a fault. And if I have to knock down someone else's chances to get closer, then that's fine by me.

All you gotta do is talk to me.

Until then, hoping to speak to you soon,

Epel Felmier

[eelhound]

"I think Homer outwits most writers who have written on the War [fantasy archetype], by not taking sides.

The Trojan war is not and you cannot make it be the War of Good vs. Evil. It’s just a war, a wasteful, useless, needless, stupid, protracted, cruel mess full of individual acts of courage, cowardice, nobility, betrayal, limb-hacking-off, and disembowelment. Homer was a Greek and might have been partial to the Greek side, but he had a sense of justice or balance that seems characteristically Greek — maybe his people learned a good deal of it from him? His impartiality is far from dispassionate; the story is a torrent of passionate actions, generous, despicable, magnificent, trivial. But it is unprejudiced. It isn’t Satan vs. Angels. It isn’t Holy Warriors vs. Infidels. It isn’t hobbits vs. orcs. It’s just people vs. people.

Of course you can take sides, and almost everybody does. I try not to, but it’s no use; I just like the Trojans better than the Greeks. But Homer truly doesn’t take sides, and so he permits the story to be tragic. By tragedy, mind and soul are grieved, enlarged, and exalted.

Whether war itself can rise to tragedy, can enlarge and exalt the soul, I leave to those who have been more immediately part of a war than I have. I think some believe that it can, and might say that the opportunity for heroism and tragedy justifies war. I don’t know; all I know is what a poem about a war can do. In any case, war is something human beings do and show no signs of stopping doing, and so it may be less important to condemn it or to justify it than to be able to perceive it as tragic.

But once you take sides, you have lost that ability.

Is it our dominant religion that makes us want war to be between the good guys and the bad guys?

In the War of Good vs. Evil there can be divine or supernal justice but not human tragedy. It is by definition, technically, comic (as in The Divine Comedy): the good guys win. It has a happy ending. If the bad guys beat the good guys, unhappy ending, that’s mere reversal, flip side of the same coin. The author is not impartial. Dystopia is not tragedy.

Milton, a Christian, had to take sides, and couldn’t avoid comedy. He could approach tragedy only by making Evil, in the person of Lucifer, grand, heroic, and even sympathetic — which is faking it. He faked it very well.

Maybe it’s not only Christian habits of thought but the difficulty we all have in growing up that makes us insist justice must favor the good.

After all, 'Let the best man win' doesn’t mean the good man will win. It means, 'This will be a fair fight, no prejudice, no interference — so the best fighter will win it.' If the treacherous bully fairly defeats the nice guy, the treacherous bully is declared champion. This is justice. But it’s the kind of justice that children can’t bear. They rage against it. It’s not fair!

But if children never learn to bear it, they can’t go on to learn that a victory or a defeat in battle, or in any competition other than a purely moral one (whatever that might be), has nothing to do with who is morally better.

Might does not make right — right?

Therefore right does not make might. Right?

But we want it to. 'My strength is as the strength of ten because my heart is pure.'

If we insist that in the real world the ultimate victor must be the good guy, we’ve sacrificed right to might. (That’s what History does after most wars, when it applauds the victors for their superior virtue as well as their superior firepower.) If we falsify the terms of the competition, handicapping it, so that the good guys may lose the battle but always win the war, we’ve left the real world, we’re in fantasy land — wishful thinking country.

Homer didn’t do wishful thinking.

Homer’s Achilles is a disobedient officer, a sulky, self-pitying teenager who gets his nose out of joint and won’t fight for his own side. A sign that Achilles might grow up someday, if given time, is his love for his friend Patroclus. But his big snit is over a girl he was given to rape but has to give back to his superior officer, which to me rather dims the love story. To me Achilles is not a good guy. But he is a good warrior, a great fighter — even better than the Trojan prime warrior, Hector. Hector is a good guy on any terms — kind husband, kind father, responsible on all counts — a mensch. But right does not make might. Achilles kills him.

The famous Helen plays a quite small part in The Iliad. Because I know that she’ll come through the whole war with not a hair in her blond blow-dry out of place, I see her as opportunistic, immoral, emotionally about as deep as a cookie sheet. But if I believed that the good guys win, that the reward goes to the virtuous, I’d have to see her as an innocent beauty wronged by Fate and saved by the Greeks.

And people do see her that way. Homer lets us each make our own Helen; and so she is immortal.

I don’t know if such nobility of mind (in the sense of the impartial 'noble' gases) is possible to a modern writer of fantasy. Since we have worked so hard to separate History from Fiction, our fantasies are dire warnings, or mere nightmares, or else they are wish fulfillments."

- Ursula K. Le Guin, from No Time to Spare, 2013.

[sarahscribbles]

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚 𝐆𝐨𝐝

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢. 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏.𝟏𝐤

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You don’t expect the soft green silk that he wraps around your wrists to tie them gently to the headboard.

The confusion is clearly evident on your face because Loki smiles softly at you and kisses the tip of your nose. “Tonight is about you,” he says by way of explanation and sits back on the bed. 

A few experimental tugs tell you that he hasn’t tied them as tightly as usual. The silk is secure around your wrists, yes, but you’re certain you could wriggle free from the restraints if you really wanted to. You’re not sure what he means by tonight being all about you, but you still stay put atop the bed. 

Loki does very little without reason. 

Your god is still sitting next to you on the bed, gazing at you silently while the tips of his fingers stroke your bare thigh. There’s no menace or warning creeping through his touch - if anything, it feels gentle and almost painfully loving - which only makes your mind whirl with what he could possibly have in store for you. 

“Repeat what you said to me five minutes ago,” he says. His voice is firm, but somehow still soft enough that you can hear that familiar undercurrent of love flowing beneath. 

It’s a love that he’s yet to make you doubt. 

You swallow and quickly lick your lips, feeling your heart begin to race under Loki’s intense gaze. “I…you…sometimes I don’t think I’m good enough for you,” you babble out in one breath as a blistering heat blossoms beneath your cheeks. It sounds absurd.

Loki’s face is unreadable, it’s a blank mask that makes you fear that you’ve actually angered him, but slowly, a soft smile curls across his handsome face. “I fear you may have suffered a recent blow to the head, dove,” he teases and climbs easily onto the bed. 

On instinct, your thighs part for him and he settles into his place between them. His hands fall to either side of your shoulders, caging you in, though tonight, the gesture feels oddly protective. 

“Are you truly questioning how utterly magnificent I find you?” he asks, capturing your lips in a chaste kiss. “Because if so, then I can only apologise for being lax on my adoration.” 

“Loki, no, I only meant -,” he cuts you off with another kiss, this one so slow and deep that it makes your toes curl into the sheets. 

“Shhh, let me worship you, dove,” he murmurs quietly, bumping his nose against yours. You nod your head silently in permission, and he gives you a wink. “Good girl.” 

Warm lips then press to your jaw before dipping beneath to suck and nip at the sensitive skin of your neck. You suck in a breath and moan, already lost to the intoxicating feel of this man. 

“Do you know how proud I am to call you mine?” he says before sucking another bruise into your throat. “You are everything I ever dreamed of, my sweet girl. I want everyone - and I mean everyone - to see my marks on you and know that the most beautiful creature in the cosmos is mine.”

“Yours,” you breathe out because it’s an absolute truth. 

Loki’s head snaps up from where it’s been buried in your neck, and you see that the open love and adoration dancing in them is now mixing with possessiveness. “Good girl. Say that again for me, dove.” 

You laugh quietly at the lopsided grin he’s wearing, but easily grant him his request. “I’m yours.” 

“Again.”

“I’m yours.” 

“Beautiful thing,” he whispers and presses another lingering kiss to your waiting lips. 

His hand then curls perfectly around your side while he presses, slow, deliberate kisses along your collarbone and over your breasts. Soft strands of errant black curls tickle your skin, making you giggle and squirm beneath him, but he only looks up at you with an adoring smile. 

“That laugh is my favourite melody,” he says, pressing another kiss just below your ribcage. “And you are a work of art that I will never grow tired of admiring,” he continues, taking one erect nipple into his mouth.

His tongue swirls around it skillfully while a finger and thumb pinch its twin. That familiar lavender haze begins to steadily creep over you with every flick of his tongue and twist of his fingers, and it suddenly dawns on you why he’s tied your hands. 

“Tonight is all about you.”

You could weep with the love you have for this man. 

When his lips and fingers leave your breasts, you audibly whine, but Loki presses the tip of his index finger against your lips, an amused smirk curled across his face. 

“None of that, dove. Have I ever left you unsatisfied?” he questions with a quirked brow. 

“No.” 

His smirk widens. “Exactly.” 

He continues his descent along your body, covering your stomach in reverential kisses until next to all of you has been worshipped by his mouth. 

You, a mortal, being worshipped by a god. 

You feel two cool hands on the inside of your thighs, his thumbs tracing absentminded circles against your skin while he gazes at you. It’s a gaze that’s so full of love that you can’t help but smile at him, at this god you are so lucky to call yours. 

“I love you,” Loki says softly. “Say that back to me, dove.”

“You love me,” you echo, feeling your lip begin to tremble with how much truth is in those three words.

“Again.”

“You love me.”

“One more time.”

“You love me.”

“I do,” Loki assures you. “Don’t ever doubt that I love you more than anything on this earth, dove. You are the one thing that I did right.” 

Before you can answer, before you can do anything, his warm mouth is on your cunt. That skilled tongue laps and licks and worships until the beginnings of your orgasm begin to crest over you. 

With every flick and swirl, “you are the one thing that I did right” plays on loop in your head. This god adores you above all else, would burn down the world if you asked him to, and it’s the knowledge of a love that deep that sends you freefalling into bliss. It’s a pleasure that never seems to end, much like your cries of your lovers name. 

Panting, you come down off your high to see Loki rising from between your thighs. The silk restraints are gone with a flick of his wrist and you greedily tangle your hand in his hair to claim his lips with your own. 

“More. Please,” you beg, not caring how wanton you sound. 

Loki kisses you again, slow and lingering, and his eyes are glittering when his lips leave yours. “My sweet girl, that was only a warm up.”

[nmakii]

hello! it is me again

What do you think if Alastor had a breeding fetish? (Idk if that's how it's written, English is not my native language 😿) oops! It would be nice if you brought some of that to the second part of "no one's better than I am" __if you wanted to ;)

| thanks for your time|

TYING YOU TO ME… ᡣ𐭩

— having you return to alastor, he was more than ecstatic. but, he has to make sure you don’t run off again.

— includes semi-nsfw n pregnancy… i dont condone alastors actions!!

alastor does not want kids. he isn’t against them, but he is rather busy. if he were to be asked, he wouldn’t be the best father either. he doesn’t have much of an idea of how to discipline children, nor does he enjoy playing.

oh, but with his pretty wife home, alastor has to make sure she stays, shouldn’t he? we wouldn’t want another man sweeping you off your feet. neither would he want you running off to the newspapers knowing his little secret— alastor would rather raze the town than hurt his little doe more than necessary.

oh, and, not to mention how gorgeous you’d look; a motherly glow radiating from your skin as you grow a child inside you— a child that was the mixed blood of you and alastor. how you would look so pretty rocking your child to sleep, alastor standing behind you, holding your waist and keeping steady.

alastor gazed at you in awe as you wiped the kitchen counter clean. he took your face in the palm of his hands, kissing you deeply and lovingly, as if your little rebellious incident had never happened.

“alastor? what’s wrong..?” you looked to him confused. “nothing’s amiss at all, dear. just admiring the sights.” he hummed, holding you by the waist as he pushes you onto the now-clean kitchen counters.

as his hands trail further, undoing the knot of your apron— he placed kisses down your neck. “i love you so very much, darling.” he sighed. “say you’re mine, won’t you? say that you belong to me as i do to you.” he pleaded.

your breath hitched as you hesitated. “i… i’m yours, alastor.” you let out, heart stopping a beat as shivers were sent down your spine. did you truly fall in love with him? alastor groaned, smiling widely at your saccharinely sweet words. “ahaha! oh, my dear…” he laughed ecstatically, almost predatorily.

“may i?” he asked, holding the zipper of your dress between his fingers. as you nodded timidly, he noticed your chaste behavior. “what’s wrong, dear? nervous?” he mused. “no… it’s just… i didn’t expect you of all people to… have sexual relations.” you said, slowly as you pick the right words.

“hmph, i’m not particularly fond of them.” was all that alastor said. and though, for the most part, it was true; engaging such physical acts is… repulsive to say the very least. whatever was necessary to keep you in this house. even if he had to make you bear his child in order to do so.

because… this is love, isn’t it? alastor loves you so very much, he’s willing to give you his everything. even the things he wouldn’t want to give.

he pulled you off of the counter, bringing you to the bedroom and he lays you down. taking out a condom. after all, you still have to stay safe.

fuck, how did this happen? you sat, shaken in your doctor’s office as she removed the gloves from her hands. so, it was true? you were… pregnant?

the very thought made you sick to your stomach. that last encounter 3 weeks ago… there was protection. alastor is always very attentive to important matters such as this, there’s no way that your contraceptive wouldn’t have worked unless… it was tampered with.

the thought of him doing such a thing behind your back brought you anger. simmering inside you as you waited for him to return home. “oh darling, i’m home! don’t you look absolutely magnificent?” he grinned.

“break it up, alastor!” you frowned. “oh? what ever have i done?” he asked, big eyes as looked so innocent— he wasn’t even hiding his guilt! “you… messed with the contraceptive, didn’t you?” you said, standing from your seat at the table.

“hmm… so you are with child after all?” he grinned ear to ear. “so, what if i did?” he shrugged. "it’s not as if you have another means to live, i’m the only one who will take care of you.”

“so you did..!” your face scrunched in anger, ready to rip this man to shreds. “ahaha… calm down, dear. all this stress isn’t well for our child.” he rested his hands on your shoulder and stomach, gentle, almost soothing— almost able to make you forget the ordeal he put you in.

“don’t you want this child to grow up with a father? i’ll take care of everything you could ever want for, my cute little doe. just stay here in this house, and we’ll be a happy family.” he said, sweet nothings falling out of his mouth. how foolish honestly.

did you truly think you could nurture that monster into a man?

[notscarsafe]

OKAY SO what with the TWO new Hermits implied by the updated banner I will say that, though the Skizz truthers have me convinced, I now have room to do my own crazy red string monologue and throw my hat in for my choice

1) Mythical J. Sausage (the J is silent) is a multitalented S-tier builder that absolutely deserves to be shoulder to shoulder with the Hermits. The man does buildings, interiors, terraforming, custom trees, and he does them SO WELL.

2) The production values!!! Beautiful replay mod sequences with shifting camera perspectives, shaders, music that sets the tone for each segment that's different from series to series. He already has more than a million followers on YouTube and for good reason!!

3) He has been SO consistent lately. He started a hardcore world about three months ago (about the time you might expect the Hermits to finalize their s10 choices maybe...???) and already has 15 episodes and hasn't gotten involved in any other big content. (He did just start playing a little of the BCG server but from what I understand that's super casual /copium copium copium).

4) That hardcore world is conveniently about to reach a good "pause" point. He started his world on a cherry blossom biome island that he's filled with a medieval village and starter farms, he's said it's almost full and what's left is the castle. I'm guessing the new season will start the first week of February, so if Sausage puts out a video this week building out that Castle and finishing that island it will be MIGHTY CONVENIENT TIMING.

5) This man can GRIND. His Hardcore world hasn't even been going half a year and he's built... So much??? Magnificent! And when he was on the Hermitcraft server he did the Razorcrest for scar AND the player head baby yoda/stormtrooper merch AND the noteblock themesong AND still built in the xmas village and other "diamond of peace" and so many other shenanigans. Did the man even sleep? He can grind with the best of them.

6) He can do redstone, too! Maybe not unique designs, I honestly don't know, but he builds farms for build materials no problem.

7) The DRAMA this man loves his improv and his backstory and trauma lore! For every series he does! Can you imagine if he gets to interact with Ren for an extended period of time, what that would do to them, to us?? Give Martyn a run for his money!!

8) Which brings me to my next point, which is that Sausage is already One of The Gang, because he's been in series with so many of the Hermits already! Empires and the crossover, obviously, but also Pirates with Cleo and Origins with Scar, and he's even done MCC! Joel is the only other player with the same depth of different series but there are other people truthing him already.

9) The EPIC BROMANCE with Pearl. My god the devotion of this man to his sunflower goddess bestie. I would try to do ot justice but y'all have seen floweroflaurelins work, you already know.

10) He's already a PG streamer but with HILARIOUSLY PG-13 tendencies. Imagine him and Cleo cracking each other up at an HHH stream, *grips your shoulders* IMAGINE IT.

11) Sausage comes with his own mascot in the form of interdimensional dog extraordinaire Bubbles, but he's also just an animal lover on general. Mans drinks his "I love Jellie" juice and had her in his world even before the sad news of her loss.

12) Diversity win! No one should be hired just for their gender, race, sexuality etc etc unless it's truly necessary to the job, but we were all happy when more women got added to the server in s8 and I know a lot of people would be happy to see some ethnic diversity added, too.

... That bulletin board had a lot more pins in it than I thought it did but anyway MYTHICALSAUSAGE TRUTHERS/ALL OTHER TRUTHERS RISE UP SPEAK YOUR TRUTH! we'll only get to wildly speculate for a few weeks so we might as well make it everyone else's problem ENJOY IT TO THE FULLEST!!

[qingxin-dream]

“The Afterparty”

summary | lyney is the face of fontaine’s entertainment industry, stealing hearts with every flourish of his magic. however, in the night, lyney tends to entertain a different kind of crowd.

warnings | written pre-4.0, ooc lyney, light yandere themes (stalking/manipulation/obsession), a sprinkle of smut (creampie/implied dubcon) [18+, MDNI], brief mention of drugs/alcohol, reader is neutral but wears a dress, lyney uses a little french

genre | yandere, slight smut

word count | 1.6k

pairing | lyney x reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

It’s no mystery that the Great Magician of Fontaine is a man of many talents. His shows are famous across Teyvat for their grandeur and flare. Beautiful venues draped in red curtains frame the scene before a sea of velvety theater seats, skilled acrobats maneuver themselves among rings suspended in the air. Blazes of fire erupt from the stage dramatically. A master of misdirection, the audience falls for his tricks every time as he effortlessly makes the impossible possible.

Lyney is incredibly perceptive. He knows how to read people, as a showman can read his audience, a small smug smile crinkling the corner of his eyes if you’re paying attention. It’s an art form—the way he flips through the pages of your soul, licking his fingers to reveal the next juicy detail with ease. Rarely ever does anyone truly surprise someone as cynical as him, who has been personally privy to the vile nature of the Fatui.

A life of fame is never kind to anyone. The planning and training for shows is incredibly rigorous. Executing the stunts in front of a live audience is equally thrilling and terrifying. Without fail, the crowd is mesmerized and the show ends in a shower of roses and marriage proposals. Rinse and repeat. Though, this is only what Lyney allows the public to know of him.

It’s after hours, when the theater is empty and the stage is dim, when the mask begins to slip.

Lyney is the lead, the star, and as such he maintains his appearance by rubbing elbows with the elite of Fontaine. You’d never catch him amid the nightlife of the city, no. You wouldn’t believe the sheer grandeur of the dazzling, flamboyant parties thrown every night at the country’s largest mansions.

It was Arlecchino who insisted that he attends these lavish parties, rampant with the city’s darkest vices between drugs, alcohol, and sex. But Lyney is a cynical man, so this much is to be expected of wealthy aristocrats.

It was all a façade, couldn’t they see? It sickened him, how gullible people were and how obsessed they were with status. Not to mention the inevitable hordes of women who threw themselves at him.

Nevertheless, Lyney played the game well and with a bewitching, handsome smile. Eventually he had learned to take pleasure in this little game.

As fate would have it, you let your friend convince you to crash one of these extravagant parties with them. You had heard whispers of what takes place at night behind the golden gates of Fontaine’s richest residences. Why wouldn’t you want to have a taste of the finest wine, dressed in designer, getting lost in the magnificent corridors of a packed mansion of partygoers?

It’s something straight from the movies.

You emerged from the bushes to sneak inside, which wasn’t that difficult surprisingly. You wore your best dress, not knowing what to expect. It was a floor length, silky black dress with a sexy slit that traveled all the way up to your mid-thigh. You had a lovely string of pearls dangling from your pretty neck. A classic choice.

Unfortunately for you, Lyney is a man who is extremely attentive to his surroundings. After all, an illusionist must be a master of his environment as well. The moment he spots you, a mere reflection of something new and fascinating for him to discover, he gravitates to you smoothly.

“Mm, I don’t believe we’ve met,” his voice is an alluring, a well-practiced approach. Before you could even answer, Lyney had already taken note of your little mannerisms and nuances just in these few passing moments. He had already adjusted the figurative mirrors of misdirection in this little trick, assuring your undivided attention.

You glance to your friend, who isn’t there. Oh. You had been cornered without even the opportunity to explore the party.

More of a wallflower type, you found yourself struggling to conjure up a confident answer. You were acutely aware of who this gentleman is, and his egotistical demeanor was already a huge turn off.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know who I am,” he chuckled lightheartedly, yet there was a peculiar undertone hidden beneath. It was hard to place. He kisses your hand. “Lyney, the Great Magician.”

You withdrew your hand, unable to hide the way your eyebrows crinkled together with disinterest. Perhaps you should’ve been more prepared for these guests to be more brazen and unapologetic when they see something—or someone—they want.

Taking no for an answer is not even in the realm of possibility for these people.

The party continued on, gorgeous partygoers dancing and drinking to their heart’s content. All the while, Lyney kept his eyes trained on you. It wasn’t necessarily out of admiration; rather, it was curiosity. Why didn’t you bat your eyelashes at him like a good girl? Bite your lip when he kissed your hand?

He followed you like a ghost, slinking through the crowd tactfully to observe you. You were a rare creature indeed. None of the other women could hold a candle to you. Archons, he felt this unsettling churning in his stomach everyone your glimmering irises met his. His heart would tense instantaneously, threatening to explode within his chest.

You saw through Lyney from the moment he kissed your hand, and he hated it.

Through the night, you both danced this delicate tango around the massive mansion, a palpable tension tethering him to you. He was equally appalled and fascinated by you, never wasting any opportunity to slip in an innocent question or two to learn about you.

“A beautiful lady like you in a place like this… Do you feel lost in Wonderland yet, Alice?” Lyney had persuaded you to follow him to an unoccupied balcony, closing the French doors behind him.

He stalks toward you, his soft lavender irises cool and calculated. In an ashy flourish of embers, a deck of onyx cards materialized in his gloved hands. It had taken all evening, but just enough wine had passed beyond your lips to give Lyney the opportunity to disarm you.

“Not scared of a little fire, are you, love?” His voice was warm and inviting as a hearth, though it held a hint of mischief like that of a crackling inferno. Each mysterious card in his hand is shuffled with a distinct flick.

You were much more susceptible to his charm now more than ever, allowing him to weave glittering silk strands of harmless sweet nothings to entice you. Had you taken a step back, you would’ve seen the web for what it is. The grand reveal was imminent.

“Now, now, don’t fret. I won’t let anything harm you, chérie,” Lyney chuckles lightheartedly, as if he hadn’t been playing and pawing at you like a cat ready to pounce all night.

Your poor little breath hitched at every whisper and touch he gifted you. It started by fatefully picking the Queen of Hearts from his custom deck of cards. You should’ve known better. Maybe you should’ve picked the one next to it. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered.

Lyney’s lilac eyes spark with intrigue at your choice. How fitting. Had you paid any attention to the magician’s sneaky maneuvers, you would have seen that every card in the deck was from the suite of Hearts.

The illusion of choice.

He takes this as an opportunity to step closer, his hands reaching forward. Your chest is beating wildly, begging for relief from how he intoxicates you with just a flutter of his long lashes.

Lyney rests his hands on the marble railing on either side of your hips, drinking in your anticipation, your fear, and your desire. A small, smug smirk pulls at the corner of his pretty lips. He takes the liberty of helping you meet his gaze by bringing his wrist to his mouth, white teeth tugging to remove his glove. Your body feels weightless when he lifts your chin with his bare index finger and thumb.

The Great Magician would argue that he took extreme precautions to ensure the success of this escapade. It was all carefully calculated and orchestrated according to his whim. He had you exactly where he wanted you, blissfully unaware of how deep these exhilarating feelings for you had rooted themselves into his guarded heart.

“Do you feel the magic in my fingertips? Hehe, tonight’s show will be a private event for only for you, mon trésor.”

The night was a blur. Fading in and out of consciousness, one moment you were dancing with him in empty halls and the next you were enveloped in his embrace against a wall. Lyney would pin your hands above your head before pushing you onto the bed, catapulting you into his next breathtaking trick like one of the acrobats in his show.

The silhouettes of your frames were shadowed in the moonlight that bathed the sheets in silver. Lyney skillfully unzipped your dress. Clothes fell to the wayside, vanishing in a flourish of passion. There was no denying it. He had to have you, and you were such a willing participant in his performance.

Of course, the wealthy partygoers were none the wiser, the echoes of pleasure the Great Magician was able to rip from your lungs were easily deafened by the music of their own opulent fantasies.

What is a magician if not an artist who must mark what is rightfully his—painting your womb with a decadent display, a growl escaping his throat.

However, Lyney is a perfectionist. When he catches a glimpse of his seed spilling out of you, he is quick to stuff his slender fingers into your overstimulated hole and seal the masterpiece with a final kiss on your bruised lips.

“Magnifique…” ❤️

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! my masterlist.

[sweetkpopmusings]

hyunjin coworker headcanons <3

a/n: i am determined!!! to finish this series of hcs asap asap asap...so hopefully that happens lol. truly obsessed with the idea of coworker!hyunjin, so i hope you are too :-) pics not mine <3

content: fluff, nonidol!au | wc: 0.9k | warnings: none really! | pairing: coworker!hyunjin x gn!reader | requests: open

office heartthrob!!!

who is a painfully huge dork <3

you learn this immediately. like so quickly that you get whiplash lol

on your first day you witness someone looking absolutely magnificent as they strut through the office

but, right before you can be properly intimidated, he trips on the carpet and acts as though he is having a heart attack even though he catches himself before he falls

who said being dramatic is unprofessional???

not hyunjin that's for sure 

you’re torn between laughing hysterically and asking whether he’s okay, and because of the first-day jitters, your brain manages to construct “you’re funny and okay?”

hyunjin just stares at you, and you’re ready to pack up your things, change your name, and move to a brand new city because why was THAT what i said?! 

then hyunjin cackles, managing to confirm that he’s okay once he wipes the tears from his eyes 

needless to say, 9:30-9:35 a.m. on your first day was quite eventful

from that very first interaction, hyunjin thinks you’re the funniest person on the planet 

the number of times he has fallen out of his chair after you made a joke has convinced the whole office of your comedic genius too :,-)

if hyunjin hears one of y’all’s coworkers repeating your joke, he’ll immediately step in and correct their delivery if it falls flat compared to yours which, in his opinion, it always does

you try to convince him to stop because people could get annoyed, but hyunjin stands firm in the fact that being the most annoying person in the office is worth it because he’s defending your honor :-(

like seriously he’s so dramatic for no reason but it’s his charm <333

it’s lowkey an office tradition for people to buy custom paintings from hyunjin around the holidays

he doesn’t mind the extra cash and he loves getting more practice, especially since people will request things outside his comfort zone

seeing as you’re special and “cooler than everyone else here, except for me, of course,” hyunjin gives you one as a surprise because he’s so thankful to have you at work and in his life <3333

hyunjin practically melts into the floor when he sees how excited you get after unwrapping it :’-)

you obviously display it proudly at your desk for everyone to see and be jealous of

and hyunjin blushes a bit and smiles really big (even if he tries to hide it) every single time he sees the artwork on your desk :,,,-) he’s simultaneously so proud and so honored

trust and believe that any gift you give him will be enshrined on his desk FOREVER

even if it’s a napkin with a drawing from a time you two went to a nearby coffee shop on your break, hyunjin cherishes it more than anything 

he gets it framed so it is protected from “the elements” whatever that means in an office lmao

sometimes he tries to correct you if you’re working on a project together and gets SOOOOO smug and then after fifteen minutes of gloating you look at him and quietly say “hyunjin…”

and he’s standing there like 🤨

when you tell him what the actual answer to the question is,  the man is CRUSHED to find out that he was wrong

almost every time he says, “there goes my dream of being the smartest person in the office”

as soon as you remind him he’s the most stylish and gorgeous person in the office, his pout disappears and he looks at you like 😁and boom! embarrassment at being a little dumb is gone forever

speaking of stylish

hyunjin loooooooooooves shopping with you for work clothes

weather’s changing?? hyunjin has sent you a calendar invite for a post-work shopping trip! work event coming up??? hyunjin has booked a conference room during the workday for you two to plan out your outfits!

he’s down to shop at any store you want, whether it’s high-end or thrifting

even if you can’t find clothes you like, there’s nothing more fun than putting together outfits for each other and cracking up during your fashion shows

any time hyunjin wears an outfit you helped him to create, he mentions it every 5-10 seconds

like so much so that people are coming up to compliment you for your fashion taste 

and you’re just sitting at your desk like ???? thank you ???

it all makes sense when you see hyunjin wearing the sweater vest with teddy bears you begged him to try on

if you’re wearing something he picked out for you, he will walk around to literally everybody and ask, “wow! doesn’t y/n look amazing today?”

he’ll also say to you “whoa! whoever told you to get that has impeccable taste”

you always tease him by saying you can’t remember who you bought it with LOL

he feels so proud to know you that he brags about you all. the. time. 

not just about your fashion–hyunjin thinks absolutely everything about you should be celebrated

there is a y/n fan club at your work and hyunjin is the founder, president, and outreach specialist <333

while he mostly expresses it by teasing you, he thinks you are incredibly smart, talented, kind, funny, beautiful, and perfect in every way

on the morning of your 1-year work anniversary, you find your favorite drink on your desk with a card next to it

in the card is a handwritten letter from hyunjin, outlining all the moments he has loved spending with you over the past year, as well as messages of encouragement and wishes for many more special, shared moments to come 

while you two met because he almost fell flat on his face, hyunjin can’t think of a better thing that has ever happened to him at work because, if he wasn’t so clumsy, he may never have bonded with his favorite person in the world (you <3333)

[once-in-a-blood-moon]

solomon couldn't stand your pact marks.

well, no, that wasn't the right way to put it. he was proud, even jealous of your pacts. they were one of the many admirable things about you! he just hated... looking at them. he knew what other people thought when they saw them.

when one would see those marks on your skin for the first time, they would be able to get a glimpse at your relationship with the brothers. one of trust and respect, gathered from just a glance. meanwhile, one would have to be told about his and your relationship. one look at you couldn't decipher all the time you two have shared together, filled with chatting between classes, practicing magic for hours, and endless love.

at first, solomon tried to mitigate this with his own marks upon your skin. wearing lipstick as he placed a kiss on your neck, a few stray bite marks from your time together at night. but those, while fun, were temporary. and solomon needed something permanent.

why not a ring?

(Hope you don't mind me adding on, anon. Thank you for the delicious meal! Literally so honored to read your beautiful work! 🥹)

Getting the ring was the easy part. Getting you away from the brothers long enough to propose...was not.

The lengths Solomon went through to be able to have a private moment with you might put him in a record book as the three realms' most whipped man. With the mask of his "shady" persona secured, he lets his silver tongue weave him through these seven obstacles, the sin of each dripping from it with only you on his mind.

Swallowing his pride, breathing in greed, spitting out envy...his wrath, lust, gluttony, and sloth. A vicious rinse, repeat until he's either buttered them up or grated them down until they finally gave in. But he did it. With the day cleared of any interruptions, his plans were set in motion.

He decides to have a redo of your very first date, flying you up and walking in the sky amongst the stars. It's just the two of you against the ever inky black sky of the Devildom, a place that has become synonymous with your presence. Only this time, there are no surprise gales, no surprise drones -- just the surprise of a velvet heart-shaped box in the inside pocket of his coat.

Solomon brings up fond memories of your time together as you both near the spot he's picked to pop the question. He's filled with a giddy glee that soon you'll have something that binds you to him, something to show the world you're his.

Still, there's a little voice in the back of his head reminding him that you could say no. That perhaps he's not worthy. Does he deserve to have matching rings adorned on his and your fingers forevermore? Does he dare stand by your side as your equal when you are, in fact, so far above him?

He decides it's best not to dwell on such thoughts as this is meant to be a happy occasion, as long as all goes well.

Your feet touch the ground once he lowers you both on top of a cliff that overlooks the Devildom, the moon hanging brightly above. As you take in the magnificent sight, he lowers himself on one knee behind you, waiting with bated breath for you to turn on your own volition.

The moment you do, he knows he'll have to keep this memory stored away with his magic, just staring in awe. The moon is angled just right that it shines right behind your head like a halo. Your eyes are as wide as saucers while your jaw is slacked. With the way you look, he truly wonders if he's in the Celestial Realm.

Nervously, Solomon begins his improvised speech after clearing his throat, "my dearest apprentice, it is with great honor that I'm knelt before you tonight. I have dreamt of this moment more than I'd care to admit, yet I never thought it'd come true. But here I am, willing to give you all of me, if you're willing to give me all of you. You are the sun to my moon, the air in my lungs, the very reason why I believe I've lived so long. I was always meant to find you and work side by side to protect the human realm together. And most importantly, to love you. So, please do this old sorcerer a favor...by marrying me..."

He pulls out the ring box, opening it to offer you the ring within. The blessed box is shaking as he trembles, waiting patiently for your answer.

Happy tears spring from his eyes once you say, "yes." The ring is carefully slipped onto your finger, and a single word comes to Solomon's mind.

Mine.

[bloogers-boogers]

Exorcist Lucifer Au

Lucifer doesn't get banished from heaven. But does in Eden.

Adam is banished from Eden but still ascended to heaven.

Both Lucifer and Adam got their heart broken by Lilith who firstly rejected Adam to be her husband and seduced Lucifer to fall in love with her, abandoning Adam and getting Lucifer banished from the garden, eventually she leaves him for Eve who Lucifer caught together making love before trying to offer the apple to Eve. Lucifer in a fit of jealousy and betrayal tricked Adam to eat the apple instead to get even with Eve for stealing his first love. But Adam was pardon for being tricked by a angel (being someone Adam had no choice but to trust, a 'superior'), Lilith and Eve got tossed to hell for disobeying and rejecting their roles and obligations. Lucifer got pardon but was punished with a curse to never experience true love, having no one be able to fall in love with him to prevent further incidents like this to happen again; he was allowed to fall in love but would live knowing it would never be reciprocated which was his punishment.

The exception was Adam who they had not yet know why he is ineffective with the curse, they found no need to worry as they assume the first man would never develop romantic feeling for Lucifer. With time though Lucifer does develop an interest in Adam, not romantically at first, it was more of the need to protect the one thing that could love him freely. Heaven took notice of that.

This gave heaven power over Lucifer: God's perfect and favored angel.

Lucifer did everything to make sure Adam ascended to Heaven, preventing him from sinning too much on earth and giving discreet guidance in form of bird messages to guide Adam to the right path. It was hard work but Lucifer's efforts weren't in vain.

Adam ascended and Lucifer was the first to greet him.

Somehow Lucifer manage to befriend Adam even after everything that happened in Eden. They hangout and talked a lot only when Lucifer wasn't busy with all the amount of duties he had, which was a lot. Normally every a hundred years. He'd do anything to keep in touch with the first man at least through messages, letters or calls and every second with him was worth the wait, Adam genuine love for him gave him hope that someday he will be worthy to get his curse broken and be able to experience what love truly is.

Things take a huge turn though when Sera and the archangels were now forced to take notice of the growing percentage of sinners in hell. They feared the possibility of hell creating a army and become a threat to heaven.

In an act of desperation a seraphim suggested exterminations, Lucifer, who was also in the meeting rejected the idea immediately knowingly Adam would never approve of such thing and would most likely be upset if angels started killing human souls. But he was shut down by all of those who started agreeing it was the best solution for their growing issue. Lucifer sat their speechless and shocked that they would have to resort to this.

He threatened them he would go speak to God if they refused to consider other possible and more peaceful solutions, this of course caused worries to everyone in the room, but they knew God wouldn't believe Lucifer for everything after the Eden incident. So Sera and the archangels pulled a card making Lucifer sit down and take it. They used Adam's safety as a threat to keep Lucifer to back down and simply obey. Which worked.

Out of all angels Lucifer ended up being put in charge of the exorcists. The only two rules they had was that no one was allowed to tell Adam or the winners about the exterminations.

The more work Lucifer was given the more time apart he was from Adam. But every time they did reunite it was magnificent and worthwhile. With each extermination Lucifer became detached from heaven and it's winners, the only thing that kept him away from falling was Adam. Lucifer didn't like sinners but with each time he visited hell during exterminations he became fascinated with the environment and places it had, he liked the hellborns but from a distance. It was all entertainment in his eyes and he loves a good show.

He also was not able to realized that he was repressing deep feelings for the first man. The feeling of guilt, fear, shame and unworthiness of Adam stopped him from ever opening to that possibility. However Adam was very opened in how much he loved Lucifer never verbally affirming it, maybe even clueless about it but with his actions spoke volumes. They both love each other a lot.

But Lucifer knew Adam would be disappointed and heartbroken if the truth reveals about what he did every once a year. He was also pushed into doing a lot of the ugly and dirty shit heaven refuses to do now that the council had him on a leash so he couldn't fight back. Lucifer cannot count how many souls he has taken out, he only knew he was completely bathed in blood, stained forever. And he would still take out if that meant protecting Adam but also keeping his dirty secret from coming out to light.

The years keep going and Lucifer starts giving zero f*cks about killing; murder became fun and a stress reliever, his anger was lashed on the not so 'innocent'. So he kept refusing to feel guilt over it. No one cared of what he felt, no one loved him except one, no one values his work so why care back?

At that point all the angels feared Lucifer's wrath. No longer the cheerful dreamful angel he once was (he was broken, he was different, he no longer belonged), they now knew him as someone very dangerous and cold blooded. The only times you could genuinely see him being his angel self is with Adam. And that was becoming a rarity to see, them together was becoming impossible to happen when Lucifer was overwhelmed with work.

It worsen when Lucifer was stuck having to deal with the knew issue in hand and it was Lilith and Eve's spawn: Charlie First. And the beginning of a new chapter.

[mikeluciraphgabe]

Bruce introducing Clark as his partner for the first time and the bat kids taking the opportunity for what it is

-

Dick

Clark wonders in the kitchen around 5am to start a family breakfast as Alfred is on his rare vacation in Europe.

He had already been halfway through when he finally noticed the body standing in the door way.

“… Dick? Are you ok?”

There’s no answer.

“Dick?”

Clark doesn’t even get a chance to blink before Dick is holding a sharp piece of Kryptonite to his neck. “You hurt my dad and I’ll show you just how fucked up a human truly could be.”

And this, this is the Robin that Clark knew.

This was the Robin who was angry and violent during his training with Batman.

This was Robin who made Bruce grow from angry and violent himself and learned how to be an actual person and how to love for the first time in a long time.

This was the Robin who wouldn’t hesitate to kill a man for taking the last of what he had of a family.

This is the Robin who grew up to be a Nightwing who was still so violent and angry but in a different way.

Clark swallowed. “Ya, ya. Yep. Of course-“

Dick pulls back and takes threes steps away from Clark. He smiles innocently, like he didn’t do what he just did. “What are you making? Smells good.”

“I- well- uh-“ Clark blinks. “Pancakes.”

“Add chocolate chips, Tim will love them.”

Clark nods and stares at the unblinking first Robin.

“Ok.”

Tim

Tim was… magnificent.

Magnificent and brilliant.

Clark, although technically not Tim’s parent, still had that parent pride you get for children. (He gets that for all of Bruce’s children.)

“So, you’re dating Bruce huh.”

Nodding, Clark grins. “Yes.” It then flatters. “Does this bother you? I know Bruce never actually dated dated before-“

Tim rolls his eyes and gets into Clark’s personal space and stares.

Just stares without blinking.

Tim, who was once a child who helped Bruce grow out of his depression of loosing his second.

Tim who was so damn talented with computers he hacked Clark’s ship for information for Bruce was Bruce could only get in the very edges of the information plated there.

Tim who was an absolute beast when it comes down to it.

“Uh… Tim?”

“Hmm…” Something in Tim’s eyes shift. “Hurt him and I’ll personally cut you open and do unspeakable experiments on the alien who dared break my dad’s heart.”

And really, Tim scared the absolute shit out of Clark. Always has.

“Yes- yes- of course- I never doubt- I never would-“

Tim grins once more, backing away. “So, there’s this movie coming out I think you would like, wanna go see it?”

“I-“ Clark only nods.

Duke

“Oh, hello Duke-“ Clark begins, smiling softly at the newest family member. Duke, although only being here for about a year and a half, has landed in Clark’s heart that belongs to the Robins and the Robins only.

Duke was a beautiful child, turning man.

He had the kindest smile and even kinder words.

He was Bruce’s first to be taken in at such a large age, but still one of Bruce’s babies.

“I’ll skip the pleasantries.”

Clark pauses form where he was taking his shoes off. “Oh,”

Duke looks him up and down then glared. “You and Bruce huh?”

Shifting on his feet, one shoed and one not, Clark nods. “Yep. Couldn’t be happier-“

“I haven’t been with him nearly as long as the others, especially by age, but Bruce has turned into a type of second father for me.”

Clark nods. “Yes, I know-“

A green light comes from Duke’s palm and Clark feels the itch of something very familiar. “Hurt my dad and I’ll fuck you up.”

“Yep, heard loud and clear-“

“Good.” Duke’s eyes glare for a moment longer before he relaxes and smiles at Clark. “Anywho, Bruce is waiting for you in his office! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

Clark gulps.

Cass

Clark adored Cass.

She was so… something Clark couldn’t describe. She just was amazing, in every way of the word and more.

Cass was Bruce’s first girl, his little princess.

Cass was the one who was hurt so deeply that she should have had a different ending, but she crawled out of it and became something more.

Something to look up at.

And she terrifies him.

You hurt my dad and I’ll kill you, Kent

Short and sweet, just like her.

She signed to him after catching him in the hallway at 2am because Clark was spending the night and he had to pee.

Clark wonders back to the bed room and asks Bruce, sheepishly, is he could borrow a pair of shorts.

Damian

Now Damian, oh tiny but loud Damian, was the one who scared Clark from day one.

Not for the reasons you think, no.

It was because this tiny little baby was hurt so badly growing up because his mother was unable to protect him as much as she wished she could and he thought he deserved it.

Damian who scratched and bite.

Damian who made Bruce have heart attack after heart attack.

So, when Damian cornered Clark one day, Clark couldn’t help but admire the little boy who is slowly turning into a strong man.

“Hurt my baba and I’ll make you wish you died on the planet you came from.”

Clark would have laughed if he didn’t think it was true.

Steph

Steph was an interesting case.

Not Bruce’s, but Bruce’s nonetheless.

“Hello Stephanie. I’m making apple pie for dessert tonight. I know you don’t like apple though. Would you like me to make you something else-“

Steph gives him a long stare. “You know, Bruce and I have a strange relationship.”

“… Yes.”

She nods. “Well, despite this, he’s still an important part to me. Hurt him and you make a lifelong enemy.”

Clark nods, trying to ignore the way his hand shakes from needing the dough. “I know.”

“I would like chocolate something, please.”

“Of course.”

Jason

Someone is following Clark.

They had been following him for blocks now, but Clark can’t pin point them.

He finally makes it to his apartment, shutting the door shut, heart pumping. He breaths deeply and stands up straight, chuckling to himself for being so foolish.

Someone was probably just walking in the same direction as him consequently.

“Clark Kent. Grew up on a farm. Crash landed on Earth… an alien.”

Spinning on his heel, Clark’s eyes widened at Jason standing in the middle of his living room.

“Oh- hello Jason. Did you need something-“

“Cut the crap.”

Clark takes in a long breath.

This was… Jason.

Jason was the one who died and came back, broken and ready to do things that shouldn’t be spoken of.

Jason who grew up in the streets because he father was doing illegal things and got caught and his mother overdosed.

Jason who was the first the make Bruce realize he wasn’t just a guardian, but a father.

Jason who made Bruce and Dick reconnect and become fatherandson once again during their biggest argument.

“I know.” Clark says before Jason could even open his mouth.

“Do you?”

Clark takes a long look at the man who never really had the chance to be a child. He looks at the man who, despite being the second eldest, looked like he was the youngest out of all of Bruce’s children. “I know if I hurt your father I will have some serious problems later.”

Jason stares back.

“Don’t fuck this up.”

“I won’t.”

Jason leaves the way he came.

[morgana-ren]

gortash being into tav isn’t something I expected nor expected to enjoy

Oh, come on, you're telling me you never thought about it? Not even once?

The man watches you obsessively throughout the entire game-- before you even have a clue who he is. He sees this raggedy group of adventurers enter Minthara's quarters and there's this uncanny vibe of 'Oh dear, here comes trouble' that he can't shake off. After shit goes sideways at the goblin camp, it definitely has his attention.

Banites respect power. They respect intelligence. They respect strength and ambition. After the death of Ketheric, it's pretty obvious whomever is spearheading this little rag-tag group of assholes hellbent on ruining his precious plans has it in spades-- or at the very least raw strength, which is respectable in and of itself.

By felling Ketheric, you actually did him a favor. Banites do not share power, and they especially do not share it with mopey, miserable old men. He needed that man dead one way or another, and you've granted him a boon. The positive qualities definitely warrant a closer look, but that alone is quite helpful. It looks like this 'Tav' is on a straight-shot path to Baldur's Gate, so he'll wait and watch.

And that's precisely what he does.

Driven by the hell-hot fires of ambition, Tav cuts a bloody swath through the sword coast. Against all odds, they find their way to his city, standing on his doorstep, determined and unafraid. Ready to rend his magnificent head from his shoulders.

It takes cunning. It takes balls. Sure, he could have them killed, but what if--

What if he didn't?

He was planning on ruling this cesspit alone but... what if he didn't have to?

The only relationships he's had in his life were with foolish little idiots that he was puppeteering. It's arguable that he's never truly felt for anyone in his life. He's always been the strongest, smartest one in any room he's ever stood in. He's never had a match.

But this Tav-- This Tav seems different. They're clever, they're strong, they take what they want. They don't let anything stand in their way. They'd make a formidable enemy, but... why make them an enemy? What if they didn't have to be?

They have all the qualities that befit a ruler-- all of the qualities that befit a Banite. Perhaps they're a bit too kind or soft hearted or good or whatever banal matters of morality plague the populace these days, but they have promise. They have potential, and he'd see it blossom.

And what better place to groom them than at his side?

Two heads are better than one. They could truly have something great. Perhaps this is his reward for his loyalty. Perhaps Bane has found him a match--

He'd see the possibilities explored.

And you're saying you've never thought about it? Come now. You should. You really should.

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 31 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

 Maybe it’s silly, but you feel as though you have a new lease on life, in the days that follow.

John is still undeniably clingy, but so very sweet. It is a much easier form of obsession to bear.

You are still a prisoner, but at least you feel loved.

Perhaps even more precious, you begin to feel safe.

Whatever possessive madness gripped him before seems to have receded for now, and maybe you’re a fool, but you dare hope in time he might make a full recovery.

Now that you’ve reached a sort of understanding, John seems bent on making up for lost time. There is no doubt that you are still his prey, but now he ambushes you with the express intention of making you cum—whether you like it or not.

Again, you find yourself begging him for reprieve, though this time through laughter rather than tears. He swallows your protests with devouring kisses, eating your cries whole as he slides his long fingers inside you and works your clit masterfully with his thumb.

When you complain of your difficulty sitting down, a gift of a hemorrhoids donut pillow appears. You think he meant it as a joke.

John likes to give gifts, you find.

When one day you walk into your studio to find a bejeweled set of headphones bedecked like a crown, you cannot help but grin like an idiot. It is ridiculous what those fucking things cost, and you’d thought you’d been clever about concealing your enchantment with them in Italy, but nothing escapes John Wick’s sharp eye.

When he finds you later wearing your new coronet, singing out of tune while you put paint down on canvas, he presses you into the worktable with his hips and his kisses, going down on his knees before you with a murmur of, “My beautiful queen.” His words make your knees weak, as does his insatiable tongue in your slit. It’s all so much, and when you beg him to take you there on the table he is all too happy to oblige, scattering your pastels in a rainbow of projectiles with a sweep of his arm before driving himself inside you. With legs wrapped around his waist in a desperate effort to hold on, you take the fury of his adoration with a cock-drunk smile.

If you learned anything in the darker times before, it is that this man is a predator to the bone, and no matter what his mood, he loves a good chase. It becomes your favorite game, and it starts one evening when you splash him while doing the dishes. The look of surprise on his face is priceless, and with a screech you run for the stairs.

You only get so far as the living room before he catches you, his arm like a band of iron around your waist hauling you from your feet entirely. It happens too fast to register, but by some form of ninja magic you are suddenly on the floor, the lean length of his body on top of you. On the plush oriental rug with his thick cock inside you, this man makes you see God. 

It feels alarmingly, magnificently, terrifyingly, like truly making love.

“Has anyone ever loved you, the way I do?” he demands desperately, filling you impossibly to the brim.  

“Never,” you barely manage to answer, the force of his thrust stealing your breath away. 

The next question is much more vulnerable. 

“Have you ever loved anyone, the way you love me?”

“Never.”

It’s true, and in the softening of his gaze you dare to hope that someday he will believe you enough.

It is surprising, how quickly the time passes. Despite the circumstances, it is not terribly hard to live with John Wick, like this. He is sweet, and loving, and he spoils you rotten. You could almost mistake your relationship for normal—if one didn’t look too hard at the locks on all the doors. 

Soon summer is fading, giving way to the golden hours of early fall. You see it out the window, but since your little car ride, you still have not been allowed outside. You’re an outdoorsy girl, and frankly, it’s starting to drive you a little crazy. You find yourself clawing at the impenetrable windows with a sigh.

John’s mood has been steady, but your heart is still in your throat when you dare ask, “John, can we go out?”

He looks up from his book, the fall of his dark hair covering half his face as he cants his head in thought. They say familiarity breeds contempt, but even after all this close proximity, you still find him beautiful. You do not think that will ever change.

“Why?” he finally asks, and you detect the shadow of suspicion in his tone.  

“Because I miss it.”

You used to hike every day off you had. Being indoors this long…is doing things to your brain.

You watch as his nostrils flare, his chest rising and falling as he considers this request. You can tell he doesn’t like the thought at all, but you force yourself to stand your ground. He won’t punish you for this, surely? Just for asking?

Of course, he might punish you for what you’ll do later, if the answer is no.

In the end he nods, though more to himself than to you. “I’ll think about it.”

“Think about it fast? The weather will be turning soon.”

The look he pays you then is less kind, his eyes sharp as glittering obsidian. “I said. I’ll think about it.”

You sigh, assuming the answer is no, and retreat to sulk in your studio. You are painting the view from your favorite outlook on the mountain trail nearby from memory when you start to hear an odd, rhythmic toque…toque sound, over and over.

You go downstairs, searching for the source. No dice in the living room or the kitchen. You follow your ears to the bank of windows off the living room. There’s another door (locked, of course) that leads to a patio. You see John outside…chopping wood? Watching the pine rounds explode under the sharp blade of an axe in his hands shouldn’t be this fascinating, but you find yourself pressed to the window, transfixed. The definition in the muscles of his forearms as he swings down are a sight to behold.

You’re not sure he can see you, the way the glass is mirrored on the outside, but you knock on the widow anyway. He looks up at you with narrowed eyes at first. Then, a small smile. It feels like a little gift, just for you, and it quickens your heart. Watching him do everyday things moves you, and you acknowledge to yourself uneasily for the umpteenth time that you’re in so deep.

As it turns out, the wood was for a little pit fire, which you sit together and watch with a glass of wine that evening out on the patio. The tall trees loom all around you, pitch black outside the ring of your little campfire. It feels so good to be out of the house, but it’s not quite what you wanted. As though he senses that you’re not exactly satisfied with his offering, John tries to distract you with his kisses, laying you down on the outdoor couch to wreck you with his mouth. You make love with your skin bared to the great outdoors, but no one to really see you in your seclusion. Later you snuggle under a soft blanket together.

Sated, you let it go, for now.  

-But John doesn’t forget, and one morning he wakes you early with kisses on your ear. “If you want to hike, we have to go now,” he tells you. You have become spoiled in your captivity, no longer at the mercy of coffee house hours, now used to sleeping through the morning after John keeps you up late with his kisses and his beautiful cock, but the offer of getting to really go outdoors has you up and at ‘em in minutes.

You find your old pair of broken-in Merrel hikers in the walk-in closet, and realize John must have accessed your possessions from your previous life at some point. It’s so strange to see them—you realize in the suspended reality of your current situation, you’ve almost written off everything that came before.

There is a distinct mental separation in your personal timeline—BW, and AW; Before Wick, and After Wick.

You have a quick breakfast and coffee before stepping outside, the sun just peeking over the horizon.

You can hardly describe the elation you feel, at last being allowed to walk out that front door like you are almost normal. You are so happy just to feel the morning air on your skin. You stand in the driveway like a simpleton, your face lifted to the sky, soaking in the sun. There is a cool breeze that smells of pine, and it is the sweetest thing you have inhaled in a long time.

John watches your reaction intensely, and you do not think you invent it, when you see a glimmer of guilt in his expressive mocha eyes. Intent on assuring him, you stand on tiptoe, pressing a kiss to his bearded chin with your front flush to his.

“Thank you,” you say, and he relaxes slightly against you, resting his forehead against yours.

You are practically skipping as you hit the trail in his woods that connects to the bigger loop. You cannot help but think about that day in the snow, when you met him, alone, on that very path. How easily he could have had you then. It is another clue that tells you he hadn’t decided yet—or he had not yet cracked.

This early, in the middle of the week, it isn’t likely you’ll meet anyone in the woods. You feel a trill of nervousness, as you wonder what would happen if you did. You have been kept to yourself for so long, the thought of contact with other people out in the world feels strange, a little frightening, even.

As you walk an exuberance overtakes you, fills you head to toe. It almost feels like you’re…free. The only contradiction to that is the tall man in black walking by your side. He has let you have free reign, not insisting on holding on to you. He doesn’t have to, you know. He could just run you down with those delectably long legs of his any time he wanted, surely.

That doesn’t mean the thought of it isn’t titillating, even if you absolutely know you would be destined to lose. Perhaps he truly has broken you at last, but you have come to love the game of chase too. It is your most exciting distraction in your world that is limited to the confines of the Wick cabin.

You are going to be sore the next day, you know. It’s been…forever, since you’ve been able to walk like this. The most exercise you’ve really gotten has been engaging in your sexcapades with John—as much of a workout as that is—it’s a different group of muscles.

Perhaps he does not insist on holding you, but it doesn’t stop you from reaching for him. You squeeze John’s hand in thank you.

Despite everything…it feels like a perfect day.

“Maybe this is far enough for today,” he says as you approach the junction with the main trail, the line of his private property and the park that adjoins it.

Disappointment spears through you. You are not ready to go back into your prison. It’s turning into a beautiful day, and you have so much energy to burn.

You make a pouty face, playing cute while you are flirting with rebellion inside.

“But the overlook is so pretty this time of year,” you insist, batting your lashes. Lately, that’s been enough to get your way on little things in the house. Today you feel like you can’t lose. Everything is too good.

He narrows his eyes down at you, as though he senses your internal mutiny, but in all your elation you feel strangely impervious. You realize you feel high, the kind of mood lift usually people have to ingest pills to get.  

“Y/n…” He reaches for you, and without thinking you step just out of reach. You’ve played this game a dozen times now in the house. A game you’ve never, to this day, won, but you’ve found it’s the thrill of a lifetime, to be chased down by this man, trusting he won’t really hurt you. It always leads to mind-blowing sex, and maybe you are thinking a bit too much with a lust-addled brain alongside your elation for the great outdoors.

There is a very pregnant moment between you, and you smile when his intense eyes meet yours, your lips curling in what you know is a shit-eating little grin. What happens next is pure reflex; an extension of a thing you’ve done repeatedly together, with a dash of that age-old ingrained instinct of prey in the presence of a predator. But now you’re outside, and your jubilation is magnified times a hundred.

You run.

“Y/n!”

He lunges for you, his fingertips just brushing your arm, but in the end he’s–amazingly–too slow.

You are a human missile, rocketing down the hill, fueled by gravity and the knowledge of how to move in this environment you’ve trained for since you were just a child. You may as well be a wood sprite, for this is your element. This is your mountain, and no matter how many wealthy interlopers buy it up and carve it into parcels and drive up the price of everything so that locals like you can barely live—this will always be your home.

It feels so good to run.

Your feet fly over the needle-strewn forest floor, jumping over rocks and dodging trees. You laugh like a madwoman, the sweet sweet mountain air filling your lungs. You run like a wild thing of the woods, the way you used to when you were a child, before your parents decided to break the oath they'd made to each other and split your happy world to pieces. While your parents fought you would flee to the trees to be free, and you feel that desperate euphoria again. That feeling like you can fly, jumping over rocks and launching from boulders.

You sense more than hear John behind you, your own ears filled with the rushing of your blood and your racing heartbeat. His fingertips brush your back before you juke him around a tree. You hear him curse and you laugh—you do sound mad.

“Have to do better than that, old man!” you crow. 

You realize with another rush that you are far more agile than John is. The trees are your friend, the way you dart around them and power yourself down a new line of retreat. You hear him curse after grazing one, and you realize you might break the poor man’s neck, making him pursue you like this. 

In a pine-needle carpeted clearing you make yourself slow down, and you are so high on adrenaline it doesn’t even hurt when he finally tackles you to the ground, your grin like a baring of teeth, giddy from the chase. He pins your hands above your head, sharp pebbles digging into your skin as you laugh.

“What the fuck—” You interrupt him mid tirade with your mouth on his, a hungry kiss that swallows his fury, but does not quench it. Already anticipating the passion of your (and his) reward with his delicious weight pressed down into you, your legs are wrapped around his waist, pulling him close.

“You think you’re cute?” he snarls above you when at last you separate.

“I am very cute,” you assert, still giggling to yourself. “Don’t be mad. You love this game.”,

“Maybe I’d love to spank that cute ass of yours raw?”

“Nuh-uh. No hitting.”

You’d made a deal, after all.

He narrows his eyes down at you, and this is when you finally start to sense that maybe he is not half as amused as you are. Your blood runs cold, and before you can blink he has you flipped over on your belly, your pants down around your thighs.

“No—”

You try to squirm away, but his inexorable hand is in your hair—it makes for a damn good handle, the bastard. His big hand digging into the globe of your ass makes you quiver under his fingers. 

Your heart plummets into freefall, as you realize he’s serious. And you can tell he’s not talking about the playful little smacks he sometimes gifts you in the middle of riding his cock to completion. He means to punish you, and the knowledge takes you from the highest high to the blackest despair. You can barely hear past the sound of your heartbeat in your ears, the familiar fear and uncertainty from before creeping in. Not again. Life was so good. Please don’t go back to this shit again. You can’t go back to the way things were. You can’t live like that again. 

A revelation settles over you with irrefutable clarity. You accept it as truth with every cell of your being, and you know there will be no going back after this. 

“If you hit me we’re done.”

There’s no hint of playfulness in your tone either now. Just…resolve. You mean what you say, to the very marrow of your bones.

“I think I must have confused you, y/n. You are not in charge here.”

“Maybe not. But I’ll tell you this. If you hit me, I’ll fight you to my dying breath. I mean it.”

Like watching yourself from the outside, you almost find it interesting that this is the true limit of your generosity with him. This is the cliff’s edge. The point of no return. Your resolve is unmoving, even if it fills you with absolute misery. You could lose him now, today, this very minute. This man who keeps you prisoner, yet with whom you have lived happily the past months. This complicated, broken man, who you love with all your heart. 

In this insane moment you realize with soul-shaking clarity…you don’t want to leave him. What would you do with your life? Go back to your stupid little existence at the coffee shop, working your fingers to the bone, doodling on the chalkboard, waiting? You’ve spent most of your life just fucking waiting. Waiting to travel. Waiting for something good to happen. Waiting…for this man to come through the door, so you could pester him for five minutes, knowing it would be the highlight of your day.

Could you possibly go back to looking up at the mountain, knowing your Beast in his castle resides there? That a man who loved you like no other is there pining for you?

But if he crosses this line—you will have to leave, somehow. Or die trying. That is your heartfelt resolution. That is the promise you make to yourself. You’ve made too many compromises as of late, and this is a battle for your very soul. 

You feel him like a malevolent storm cloud behind you, trembling in his fury, but for once, torn as to what to do. You realize this is the only time you’ve seen him doubt himself, when he’s contemplating teaching you a lesson. 

You dare to try to talk him down, your voice calmer, or perhaps more distant. You don’t know how you muster the courage; perhaps only in the knowledge that this could truly be it for the two of you. No more we’ll see how it goes or maybe it will be better tomorrow. There is only now.

“This thing we’ve somehow built together, despite everything…” You shake your head, trembling as much out of fear as despair. “It will be destroyed, and you’re the one who will have broken it.”

“You’re the one who ran from me!”

You can tell from the hushed fury in his voice that he is hanging on by a thread. You realize now, what a stupid thing that had been to do. That despite the games you’ve been playing in the house, out here, he just couldn’t handle it. Even just the slightest possibility of you leaving is enough to drive this man off the edge.  

“I let you catch me.” You will him to believe you. You even half believe it yourself.

“The hell you did.”

“It’s true. I know these woods better than you. I’m smaller. I’m faster. I let you.”

“Bullshit.”

Before you can hardly think about what to do you lower your face to the dirt, offering your ass in the air. You know he can see your puffy slit, your glistening opening just begging for him. This is how he has warped you; or maybe you were a twisted little thing all along, just waiting for him to show you the way to your ruin. Either way—you want him, and you will him to see it for himself.

“I let you catch me,” you insist again. “So give me my reward.”

You feel the tremor run through him, from his fingertips to his core.

You realize that he wants to believe you. That maybe punishing you was never really the fun for him at all, in this deadly game you’ve been playing.

You feel him shift his position behind you, his merciless hold moving to your hip. When his long fingers slide into your wet folds you mewl like a cat; half relieved, and half just needing him. He makes you buck by circling your bud, before delving inside your weeping channel with two of his fingers. It makes you moan, and if someone walks up the trail my god will they get an eyeful, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Does that feel like someone who’s afraid of you?” you bluff. Because wanting this man has never really stopped you from fearing him. Fearing what, exactly, has shifted over time. In the end though, maybe just that he would be the absolute ruin of you.

He only grunts in answer, spreading your juices around your aching pussy. When his fingers withdraw you whine in protest, but you hear him rifle with his clothing, the zzzip of his fly jerked downwards. When his thick tip kisses your entrance you could weep, offering your ass even higher in the air.

“You are a very bad girl,” he tells you as he slides home, making you writhe with a mixture of pleasure and pain. 

“I’m your bad girl,” you correct him, and he growls behind you, thrusting again. He’s not treating you with the usual care he pays this position, but you take it anyway. Gladly, if this will mend the thing between you, you’ll take it all.

“I would have found you, you know,” he pants as he thrusts, his hand weaving in your hair. “Even if you made it down the mountain…there’s nowhere in the world you can hide from me.”

You absolutely believe him.

“I know,” you tell him, your face in the dirt, yet somehow still loving the feeling of him behind you, filling you absolutely and completely. “You don’t–have to–lock me up, John,” you pant, interrupted by the violence of his thrusts. “Because I know I can’t escape you.”

This makes him growl again, that primal, possessive sound that touches the darkest recesses of your cavewoman brain. It is as though there is no part of you, inside or out, that this man cannot touch. He drapes his long body over yours, engulfing you in the shelter of his warmth. Even now, you cannot stop yourself from leaning back into him, pressing your smooth cheek to his soft beard. His tone is pure gravel, but you know him well enough now to sense the vulnerability in his words too. “But do you want to escape now?” he asks.

“No,” you tell him, and you know in your heart this isn’t manipulation, or vying for a better chance to run somewhere down the line. It’s just the truth, and you even surprise yourself as you say, “No, I don’t want to leave you.”  

He goes still behind you as he evaluates this heartfelt confession, his harsh breathing and the pulsing of his cock buried inside you his only movement. 

“I want to believe you.” You only enjoy a moment of relief, before he rears again behind you, driving himself into you to the hilt. “But I can’t.”

Your heart plummets as you realize he still cannot bring himself to trust your word, to have the faith to walk out into thin air, the way normal people do when they dare to fall in love. He cannot leave anything to chance with you, and now you are not sure he ever will.  

He really might keep you locked up forever. 

You feel the earth beneath you, hyper aware of the pine needles in your clenched hands, the wonderful smell of the dirt and ancient rocks below. The cool breeze on your bared skin, and the dappled light filtering through the pines. What if this really is the last time you are ever allowed outside? 

There was always a glimmer of hope on the distant horizon for you, that little light of optimism that never quite managed to extinguish, despite everything he put you through. But now you feel it leave you, stealing the integrity from your very bones. You go limp beneath him, only his iron-grip on your hips holding your ass in the air as he uses you. When he reaches down to find your slippery bud you are no longer in the mood, and perhaps foolishly, you try to shake him off. 

“Just get it over with.” 

You already know it’s the absolute worst thing you can say, but now you don’t care. 

“But I thought my darling wanted to enjoy the great outdoors?” He doesn’t sound half as angry as you expected him to, but there is still something sharp in his tone that puts you on edge. Like glimpsing a dorsal fin parting still waters, you know something dangerous swims underneath. 

He slows his thrusts behind you, so that his magnificent length stretches you just right without hurting you. He uses his now expert knowledge against you, weaponizing the hours you’ve spent in bed together making up for lost time. You can’t stop yourself from arching into him, canting your hips to intensify the sensation, and now you bow your head so you don’t have to see his smug smile. “Goddamn you.”

He huffs with laughter, though there’s no real humor in it. “You’re too late, I’m sure.”

This time when he touches you, you are desperate for it, your aching walls squeezing him in search of release. It tears a groan from deep in his throat, a sound you know so well by now, and you realize you can use your own knowledge of this man against him too. You squeeze him again, almost in challenge, and it becomes a contest between you, who can bring the other to pieces first. You have to admit that his blunt fingers on your clit are heaven, and your heart pounds too fast in your chest, your head light as you very nearly forget to breathe in your concentration. He tries to hold himself off as you move to take him deeper. He cannot control your body as well as he would like, like this, with his fingers buried in your slit, and you almost smile at his grunt of frustration at you. 

In the end you both lose. 

You cum so hard on his cock you see stars, a ringing in your ears as a merciless pleasure breaks and explodes through you. He fares no better, filling you with ropes of hot seed as he moans, loud enough to echo across the mountains. 

Maybe you do feel a little better, panting in the soft leaf litter with his body draped over yours again, his heavy breathing and soft lips upon your neck. As usual, you feel bereft when he withdraws, wishing you could hold him inside you longer. You didn’t bring anything to clean up with, and you anticipate a soggy walk home back up the hill. 

In fact, after sprinting, then fucking like animals on the ground, you’re not even sure you can walk. 

It’s John who rises first, groaning with the effort. He glares down at you, as though daring you to make another old man jab. For the moment, however, you are out of quips, out of jokes, and out of clever repartee. Even though you know it shouldn’t be so easy for him to tame you, you snuggle under his chin anyway, kissing the swell of his Adam’s apple. For a moment he sags against you, savoring this sweetness, before brusquely leading you back up the trail.  

He is not cruel, or strangely, even outwardly angry now, but somehow you just know you are in so much fucking trouble.

[luffyvace]

HEYYYY!! how are you?? i hope you’re doing well ❤️❤️

i was wondering if you could do a headcanon/story where reader is like the daughter of Dracule Mihawk but like she(or gender neutral) never met her mom, so when she was growing up Boa Hancock was like their cool auntie that she learned how to be a woman (doing makeup,painting nails, finding her style ect.)

ONLY IF YOU ARE COMFORTABLE THO, BTW I LOVEE YOUR WRITING 💕💕

HIII IM DOING GOOD ANON!! You dear? :)

i do female reader dw!! I’ll be using she/her as well, for reference

Awhh dadhawk <33

AUNTBOAAUNTBOAAUNTBOAAA!! She’d be the BEST most SPOILING wine aunt EVER🍷💄

Of course it’s alright honey! Alsooo TYSM!! I’m so glad you enjoy 😭💓💓

Being mihawk’s daughter has a lot of perks and literally no down slides. actually I half way take that back. The only down slide is that there’s a target on your head for those who are crazy enough to come for you. But that’s like a mere 00.1% and even then just because they come for you doesn’t mean they’ll get to you 🤡

especially since your the NUMBER ONE swordsman’s daughter.

Also this is really random but you probably meet zoro eventually, perona as well, they obviously stay with you for some time so perona and you likely get close. I imagine you would introduce her to boa and the three of you become a trio. You and Perona are her adorable nieces and boa is your doting, beautiful and totally awesome auntie :3

don’t get me wrong mihawk is a awesome father. He seems like a very responsible man and that he would not leave you out in the cold at the cost of his own life. He spoils you just as equally as boa does and although he’s not the most trusting man on earth, he wouldn’t dare break the bond you two have when he can’t replace it with your actual mother. At this point not that you wanted to.

Never meeting your mom may have taken a toll on your mental health at first, but not to worry! Awesome aunt boa to the rescue!!

The chances of you meeting boa we’re actually very slim, whether you know it or not. As I said Mihawk doesn’t easily trust plus you probably met at a warlord meeting where he has to take you along for one reason or another.

You saw boa and naturally, thought she was very pretty. Mihawk is rather reserved too so you probably don’t see people often in general (til you get older). Therefore, seeing such a ethereal woman made you instantly admire her. You immediately wanted to get to know her—and, luckily for you, she took an interest in the girl who’s mihawk’s daughter!

now idk what you did but she started the conversation, and whatever you replied made her think you weren’t so bad! You two chatted some more and after figuring out you had no mother figure she took it upon herself to raise a cute girl such as yourself to be a good woman. She didn’t exactly want to be viewed as your mother..that would relate her too closely to mihawk, a man, for her liking. So! She’ll be the cool and classy wine aunt instead! 🍷💋

you love your dad, he does his best to raise you as a single father and pirate/warlord/worlds best swordsman. And you truly do appreciate him! But when Boa bashes him for being a man her insults are low key so funny you can’t help but laugh 🗿 (hc that Boa would be good at roasting people on the spot :3)

boa being the coolest aunt she is, she takes you to lavish places (that she rented so she wouldn’t have to bear being in the presence of those indisputable critters society calls men), gets you the most high quality makeup (that her tribe handcrafts—yes they make they’re own it’s a hc of mine), does monthly over the phone (in person when you can) mental check ins (because you love your dad but again, he’s a man, and there’s some things about women men won’t get—vice versa too of course <3)

womanly hour!~ well more like hours, you spend the whole day with boa whenever you can, she’s makes a magnificent aunt and literally never says no to you. She’s like to you how she is to luffy but less delusional platonic <3 you two go shopping and pick out clothes together, her tribe of course also gifts you all the cute clothes you could ever want (again, handcrafted) because boa adores you and they adore boa!—which means they adore you! 💕 You and the Kuja 100% get along and see eye to eye on how spectacular Hancock-Sama is~ 🥰

when your older you probably go over to visit her more often and maybe even on your own! Mihawk trusts that by then he’s trained you enough, plus i think he would have his certain set of rules but not be too strict of a dad.

teaching you how to be a proper woman with Boa 101 ;} only if you want to tho! She’ll ensure your not out here acting like some monkey—surely your not! (unless you are 🤷‍♀️) Still, she teaches you basic lady manners. :) More than anything she knows women is NOT the problem, so instead of going “keep your legs closed ☝️🤓” she says “If a man looks at you lower than your stomach, kick him in that area 😉😘” - Boa Hancock (the woman we trust💪)

AND you already know she’s gonna teach you how to kick as hard a she can 😤😮‍💨👌 which ngl by the time your older your sure to be a master in many Haki’s. You may even have conquer’s 🤷‍♀️ I wouldn’t doubt it you got Mihawk blood in you :P

Growing up Boa has constantly been warning you of men and they’re vile ways. When you become of age she’ll tell you what happened to her (that’s how much she trusts you 💗💗) and you’ll know what she means right away. She will always look out for you but gives you tips on things just in case, and if you ever feel unsafe, don’t hesitate to call her or take a trip to the island of women! The entirety of the Kuja tribe will lay down they’re lives in an instant for Hancock-sama’s lovable little niece <33

I’ve been mentioning this throughout but her taking you to the island of women definitely happens. You love it there and everyone loves you. You have so many Aunts and sisters there it’s not even funny. 😃 You adore each and everyone of them though, just as they do you. You get only the finest of treatment from them and you might as well be one of the Boa sisters. You get all you can eat premium food, the most elegant clothes tailored to your exact size and tastes, you even have your very OWN room in the Palace! Sandersonia and Marigold dote on you just as much as Hancock does the four of you very much do spend a lot of time together. 😊

The Boa sisters/the Kuja tribe teaches you the kuja tribe/survival skills personally. They start with bow and arrow and eventually moving on to haki and hand to hand combat. Now, Mihawk might have already covered this but they’re going over it again 😄 why? He might’ve missed something! He’s a man! (Btw the Kuja girls 100% ask you questions about men no holding back) Anywho, I’m sure you’d do it again even if you know it already because 1) practice 😋 and 2) who wouldn’t want to spend more time with the Kuja pirates?!

💖💖

These girls are seriously awesome 💓 (this low key became a Mihawk diss track written by Hancock but he’ll live- LOL 😂😂🗿)

[nenyabusiness]

"Last Temptation"

After episode 4 and the possible flash-forward, I just need to talk about this soundtrack. We haven't heard it in the show yet, and I'm pretty sure we're going to have to wait until the season finale. Bear McCreary is a master at combining leitmotifs to musically represent a scene, and I truly believe that this is the track that will play during the inevitable confrontation between Sauron and Galadriel.

Spoilers ahead for potential predictions, because I'm breaking this fucker down.

We start out with a soft soprano humming the melody of "Where The Shadows Lie". For those who don't remember the full version from the first season, it's the one with lyrics:

Three rings for the Elven kings under the sky Seven for the dwarf lords in their halls of stone Nine for mortal men doomed to die One for the dark lord on his dark throne In the land of Mordor where the shadows lie One ring to rule them all, one ring to find them One ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them In the land of Mordor where the shadows lie

So far, we've already heard this melody quite a bit, since it's often played when something sinister and ring-related is going on. It also plays with a full symphonic orchestra during the Annatar reveal in he soundtrack called "Emissary at the Forge", which I'd personally say is actually Annatar's theme. I could go on a rant with that one to, but to put it briefly: We've got "Sauron" and "Where The Shadows Lie" played on Elven-coded instruments. Does it get more Annatar than that?

Okay. So. The scene opens with dark ring shenanigans and/or Annatar. It's dark. It has tension. It's the eerie calm before the storm.

At 0:40, the mood changes. We get strings, followed by male choir and sharp brass, leading us straight into Sauron's theme. It's not as chaotic as "Sauron" from season 1. We have a steady 4/4 rhythm compared to the whatever the hell is going on in the original theme. The core melody and the ostinato on the strings are unmistakable though. We're dealing with Sauron.

1:05 is where things start to escalate. We move between sharp female vocals and softer orchestral interludes that almost seem to fight each other, leading up to the magnificent 1:36. Galadriel's leitmotif on brass, with a note lowered just a half step to give it dissonance. If "Emissary At The Forge" is Elven-coded "Sauron", then this is Sauron-coded "Galadriel". It's not ethereal. It's not harmonic. It's intense, and I can't wait to see what Galadriel is actually doing here during this part. Fighting, most likely. Viciously.

After a brief breather, we reach 1:59 where Sauron's leitmotif returns, sung by a single soprano. No string ostinato. Just the main melody, performed with the same eerie vibe as "Where The Shadows Lie" in the intro. The orchestra builds, losing some dissonance as more instrument joins... and then we're suddenly back in a much more triumphant version of Galadriel's theme at 2:25. Something has shifted here. The dynamics are different. Maybe she's getting the upper hand? But here comes the kicker, Sauron's ace up his sleeve: Halbrand's theme.

A soft whisper of a dulcimer breaks free from the symphonic orchestra at 2:30, followed by a Nordic nyckelharpa at 2:35. There are hints of Halbrand's theme in other season 2 tracks too, but not like this. We're not just dealing with elements of Halbrand's theme here. This is Halbrand's theme, with the original instrumentalization. In episode 4, we catch a glimpse of Sauron in a flickering montage of images, looking almost exactly like he did during the battle in the Southlands. I strongly suspect that when we get to that scene, it's going to be backed up by this exact part of the soundtrack. It lasts for almost half a minute. The battle has been put on pause. Has Galadriel's feelings for the man she thought she knew caught up with her? Something emotional is happening here. Something that involves their time together, back when they were still allies.

At 2:56, the battle is on again. The sharp female choir is back, sounding even more erratic. More urgent. Galadriel's leitmotif returns, now with the right note but at doubled speed. She's retaliating.

The next major point happens at 3:47, where things suddenly go quiet. We shift into Sauron's leitmotif on soprano again, which transitions into Galadriel's, and then back to Sauron's. It's really, really smooth, and I can only applaud Bear for the execution. The themes should be incompatible, but nope, he makes it work.

At 4:53, something really interesting happens. Both "Sauron" and "Galadriel" have string ostinatos. Ostinatos are short, reoccurring melodies, and Bear often use them to back up the "main" motifs. At this time stamp, we're hearing a new ostinato that sounds an awful lot like Sauron's and Galadriel's combined. It's not as dissonant as Sauron's, but it's not as clean as Galadriel's either. I can still hear both in it, though. We're no longer just shifting back and forth between the soundtracks - they've actually merged. I have no clue what that means but I can't wait to find out. Is this her "Last Temptation"? Did he give her the same proposal again? Is she tempted?

The music builds again. At 5:27, we hear a short, explosive burst of Galadriel's theme on brass baked into an epic soundscape. Whatever it was that just happened, she's snapped out of it. She faced her temptation and turned it down. We hear the direct result of this at 5:39, where we get Sauron's theme sounding a lot more like the one from season 1 again. No more soft soprano. We're back to male choir. (I think it's worth mentioning that traditionally, male choir more evil-coded than female, so that's neat.)

If there was ever any doubt whether or not she resisted the temptation, we get a confirmation at 6:03. Galadriel's theme on harp, backed up by a soft female choir. She chose the light. Again.

The final half minute is orchestral, but the battle is over. There's peace. A touch of triumph, a touch of melancholy, but there's definitely peace.

Okay. I think I'm done. Bear is a genius so I'm sure there are even more easter eggs in there, but these are the ones I caught.

EDIT: During that final half minute, we actually get a bit of Elrond's theme. Is he the one who interrupts the altercation? Is that how the fight comes to an end? I'm really interested in seeing how that plays out. TLDR: Bear created a Sauron/Galadriel/Halbrand medley and I'm in awe.

[yaekiss]

#Mailroom Open!　──　hey my darling <3 letter delivery for kaeya and i’d love to have a yandere w/nsfw reply back! any petnames are good with me, i promise <3 letter below the pink!

“To my dearest, Kaeya,

It’s almost shameful how you have me wrapped around my finger. There’s only so much a man can do when you fill my mind, and even in work, I can’t help but imagine what you’d be doing, how you’d let me shower you with all the affection such a jewel like yourself deserves. A day spent without you feels sacrilegious nowadays with how you’ve carved your place into it.

How are you faring back in Mondstadt? It must be a chore with so little to do without me there with you, but I know the wine will always be sweet and the flowers always in their lively beauty (though it can’t compare to yours, I’m sure.) I hope you’ve kept an eye on Diluc: you know how he works himself, so have him take it easy every now and then. He runs the tavern you love so much, after all.

I can’t see you soon enough. May the gods bless me so that I can be back home sooner than I know.

— Your love”

( in a box containing the letter, there’s a bottle of regional wine intricately wrapped with a gold bow, alongside a bouquet and a lace choker. you know i had to do it <3 )

꩜ Letter Content: Dom! GN! Reader x Yan! Subby! Kaeya, no gendered terms for reader, Kaeya calls you "my heart", mentions of alcohol, mentions of blood, unhealthy and obsessive relationship from Kaeya, lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ Delivery Notes: Phew! He sure replied fast, it's almost as if he knew you were sending a letter to him! :3c Anyways, I wonder what he replied with? ꩜ Wanna write a love letter yourself? Check out it out here!

In return, Kaeya sends back a box as well, no bigger than the envelope stuck to the top of it. The deep royal blue envelope’s material is glossy and pearlescent, holding it under the moonlight produces a faint shimmer, one that reminds you of his eye.

Upon opening the letter, your senses are greeted by the waft of Kaeya’s perfume, the same one you gifted to him months back when you returned to Mondstadt from yet another arduous work trip. Eyes scanning over the contents of his reply, the words are written in outstanding but legible cursive, impressive penmanship (tsk, always a showoff). His love letter reads:

“Addressed to my one and only,

Much thanks for the presents, my heart. You truly know my tastes, the wine was magnificent and went down smooth, almost impeccable. The only thing that could improve it was if you were there as well. I do so dreadfully miss you too, I find myself sighing whenever I reach out for your hand only to remember you’re away in Fontaine for work. Are you sure I can’t convince you to leave your job? I could take care of you, you’d never find yourself needing anything, other than me, of course.

I digress. Back to the subject at hand, Mondstadt is, well, the same as always. Nothing much to report about. My days are immensely duller without you around, obviously. Diluc’s still not much fun to be around but I suppose he’s been well, so no need for you to… (There’s some words scribbled out here with a squiggly doodled arrow pointing to it, saying “Ignore this! :)”) fret over him at all.

It’s just that… I can’t bear to be away from you, my heart. You say I have you wrapped around my finger but it seems to be the opposite. Since you entered my life, it was as if you were Orpheus: coming to rescue me, but unlike the tragedy, I won’t lose you, and you won’t lose me. Not even the gods above could keep me from you. Not one moment does my mind stray from the thought of you and how I need you close by and the way I can’t bear to… (The words are scribbled out again, this time it’s messier, shaky lines uncharacteristic of his usual neat strokes. Another squiggly arrow points to the dark mass of ink, saying “Ignore this too! :)”)

All I want to say is, we are much closer than you might think, my heart. I’ll keep this short, I’d hate for you to bore of me.

Counting down the days till we truly meet again,

- Kaeya Alberich -

P.S. I have a picture in the box reserved for your eyes only, enjoy ♡”

Removing the lid of the box, a vial on a gold chain catches your eye, it glistens, almost as if beckoning you to wear it immediately. Its contents are a deep red and swishing it around reveals how it clings to the sides of the bottle. Not wine then. There’s a tag hanging from a ribbon tied around the clasp, in Kaeya’s signature handwriting it reads, “So I’ll always be around my heart.” Flipping it around, there’s 2 reddish-brown thumbprints on the back, stamped so that it looks like a heart. 

After putting the accessory on, you move on to pull out a smooth card stock from the bottom of the box. How scandalous. The cavalry captain is shown, knees tucked under him on the bed as he’s clad in lacy white lingerie, hands on the sheets in front of him as his arms push his tits up to accentuate them. A white garter belt wraps around his thigh and fuck, the tip of his cock is peeking out of the sheer ivory fabric, precum already drooling from his slit. The bouquet you gifted him is in the shot as well but what really draws your attention are the dribbles of wine cascading from down his lips to his chest, staining some of the white lace a deep crimson. To top it all off, he’s wearing the lace choker you sent him, how obedient!

However, the more you look at the photograph, the more off putting the atmosphere becomes. The background looks suspiciously like the rooms of the hotel you’re currently staying at. The lighting is the same hue. The furniture matches up too. Everything is strikingly similar, right down to the carpeting. Squinting, you can just about make out the room number on the keys captured in the shot.

It’s the room next door.

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡