Ashewrites - Tumblr Posts - Page 2

𝑫𝒆𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑳𝒆𝒘𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕-

𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚢 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙱𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢-

Silent confessions

Whitney Theory time

𝙹𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜𝚝-

Jordan's Corruption

𝙺𝚢𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙻𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚛-

The butterfly effect

𝙱𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚛-

Smoke and Mirrors

𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

Yandere Male Celebrity x GN Manager Reader

Yandere Male Writer x GN Cop Reader

5 Things He hates about you

14 𝒅𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕-

1) [Redacted]'s Christmas miracle

2) Anything for you my love

3) 14 days with you Royal AU (ongoing series):

Part-1 : Wedding and Warning bells

Part-2 : The Evasive Enemy

4) Sonnet 18 (Conan fic)

I need an angst fanfic of Kylar from DoL… Please? 🥺🥺

The Butterfly Effect

Kylar the loner writing request

Word count-1118 [CW- mentions of anxiety, and implied panic attack. Themes of hopelessness and angst. One-sided love]

It had been raining that day. Not the usual downcast marring the sky—no— pleasant breeze ruffled Kylar’s dark hair, making his keen emerald eyes peek through like twin jewels, as he glanced up at the sky.

Spring rain’s drizzle had lightly sprayed his pale skin as he trudged the shabby alleys of Domus street. It had been purely out of sheer boredom that Kylar had decided to take a longer route to the park only to somehow wind up lost.

He had halted in his tracks. Slender fingers had come to grip upon the hilt of the blade resting at his hip, tucked under the rumpling fabric of his oversized hoodie. His eyes sharply bounced in every direction as he figured out his way again. Really, one could never be cautious enough in that town.

His short legs had hurried along the narrow path, his skittish gait attracted several gazes. Kylar had felt a crippling wave of anxiety crawl long his spine under the many scrutinous eyes sizing him up. His movements had become urgent. Escaping from what? He didn’t know. And just when his heart had felt like it’d burst right through his chest, he saw you.

His tiny frame was shaking. Hands came to rest on his knees as he bent over, stopping, catching his labored breaths. Just then a cottonesque cloud shifted overhead, letting a sliver of sunlight paint your cheeks and he stared mesmerized.

Dressed in clothes not much shabbier than his, but wearing a smile not even the finest of riches could afford, there you were, watering away the colorful plants, lining the depressing gray walls of the orphanage.

Shining under the natural spotlight of the sun, that seemed partial to only you that day. You seemed to be so engrossed in a conversation with a boy, who was around your age, one hand holding the hose and the other gently guiding the spray of water over the various flora.

A lone butterfly had fluttered over to you, and mischievously perched atop your head, earning a peal of giggles from you and your companion.

All his earlier anxiety forgotten, Kylar had been unaware of a small smile slowly inching up his lips. He had stared, almost marveled at the way the butterfly hovered around you, as if it had found the most beautiful flower in the garden.

And surely, Kylar had agreed wholeheartedly. His heart beat in tandem with each flap of the butterfly’s wings.

Flap…thump Flap…thump

And just like that, he had fallen in love. 

He shouldn’t have…He Mustn’t have.

***

The sharp blare of the school bell broke him out of his reverie. With jerky movements, Kylar forced his desperate eyes away from your form and packed his belongings back into his rucksack.

He was quick. He had to be because he knew what was coming next. Teeth nibbling away at the flaky skin on his chapped bottom lip, he discreetly skirted around the crowds and crowds of sweaty students in the hallway. 

 Footsteps light as a feline’s he followed you to the park, your personal shadow. It wasn’t simply an urge anymore for Kylar. It had transformed into a need. 

He needed to watch you. Needed to keep you safe. From the lecherous eyes and hands of those creeps in the streets. And sometimes even yourself. For you didn’t know what was good for you. Or who for that matter.

The sky was grim, reflecting the inner turmoil that scratched and sank its claws in his ever declining psyche. 

Hands balled into fists at his sides, Kylar braved the first few drops of rain that wet his cheeks and gazed owlishly upon you, from behind the bark of a tree.

Nails digging crimson crescents on his palm, he watched your expression melt into a sweet smile as you approached the intimidating figure standing in front of a fountain holding an umbrella.

Kylar’s hand involuntarily reached for the handle of the umbrella peeking out of his rucksack, as he saw the blonde man, roughly pull you closer under the shade of his umbrella, neatly tucking you by his side, like some prized possession. 

Kylar’s heart clenched at the wistful words that died on his tongue. 

“We co-could’ve sh-shared this umbrella” he whispered to no one in particular 

The winds slowed down. The park was empty save for the couple standing statuesque in front of the fountain. A halo of smoke surrounded them like an invisible fortress. 

The humid atmosphere suddenly weighed heavy on his chest, when Kylar saw the bully ever so slightly lean in towards you.

‘What was it that you saw in him?

He was nothing but a bully, shoving you around, embarrassing you, using you like a pet and OH GOD KYLAR CAN BE SO MUCH BETTER AND—‘

A loud thunder, masked the deafening sound of Kylar’s heart breaking into a million pieces. He watched on, soaked to the bone and numb as your lips met Whitney’s over and over in a wild, passionate kiss.

‘My love would never…they do-don’t like it. Yes theydon’ttheycan’ttheysimplycannot’, the words rattled a mile a minute, stumbling around Kylar’s brain as he stared at Whitney sacrilege his God like a horrified devout.

But nothing could ever describe the pain that shot through him, when your small hand reached up and cupped the bully’s face, pulling him closer as you welcomed his intrusive kisses.

It was like Kylar never existed. The world could’ve ceased at that moment and you simply wouldn’t have noticed. So lost in his embrace. So keen for his touches. So in Lo—

Unable to take it anymore, his jealous green eyes flitted away in a flash of anger. Trying to focus on anything but that last thought.

Unbidden, the twin jewels zeroed in on a butterfly, hovering around a flower. It desperately flapped its wings, struggling against the harsh winds and the iresome pour of the rain.

It gently touched, and cradled the petals, fluttering about the flower as if in a pathetic attempt to grab its attention. The flower stood pretty and proud. Unfazed by the lovesick being, fulfilling its pilgrimage at her altar.

A few more frantic flaps, and the butterfly finally perched atop his lover. Kissing her lips, as the last scales of color shed from its wings.

With a cold blow of the wind, it fell, lifeless wings crumbled and lay still on the ground. The sky rumbled in the distance, the flower ever in its beauteous glory swayed like it was just another day. ‘So this is what it means to fall in love’, Kylar mused with a bitter laugh, suddenly very grateful for the rain as he let the tears fall freely down his cheeks. Without a glance back, he ran, homebound.

14 Days with you Royal Au (ongoing series) [Pairings- Enemy Duke! Redacted x GN Reader] [Word count- 1768] [Tags- Angst, Smut] [A/N- Previously posted in the 14dwy discord server. Redacted belongs to @14dayswithyou]

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Part 1 : Wedding and Warning bells

Three months. You kept reminding yourself, repeating like a mantra under your breath, that you had to keep up this charade for only three months. You stared at your scantily clad figure in the ornate mirror while the chambermaid brushed your hair preparing you for the first night with the draconian Duke. The black silk robe barely covered your skin, yet you looked the very picture of elegance. Fit for a partner of the highest ranking noble in the country.

The chambermaid smiled ruefully at you as if understanding your dilemma. She lit scented candles around the vast expanse of the room and drew a bath for the newlyweds, then bowed and left the marital chamber, leaving you to sit in the middle of the plush poster bed.

Just as you were starting to get comfortable, you heard the heavy set of footfalls muffled by the soft carpet lining the room. With a creak, the big double doors opened and he walked in. 

When his cold azure eyes met yours in a searing gaze, you were pulled back to the moment this very morning, when you were standing opposite this enigmatic man on the altar. The moment that changed everything. 

Your family hailed from the oldest noble clans in the kingdom. Once respected, now barely making ends meet. Your father was a proud man. He struggled to keep up appearances but refused to accept the defeat of his house. So when the tyrannical Duke of their rival clan graced his doorstep, asking for the hand of his oldest child in marriage he was enraged, to say the least. The audacity of the arrogant man to ask for his beloved child when the young Duke himself was responsible for their clan’s downfall. 

But it was you who convinced your father that this marriage was a chance to take revenge on the Duke’s family. To overthrow them and break their power, weakening it from the inside. 

You expected the Duke, notorious for his shrewd tactics, his beast-like prowess on the battlefield, and his rumored blood lust, to be brusque and brutish. Lecherous even. You were prepared for everything. This was like a war for you, and you were ready to give up your body and chastity for it. But nothing in the world would have prepared you for the cold yet hauntingly beautiful, icy blue eyes looking at you, as he gently lifted your veil. 

You don’t know what expression you wore when you exchanged the heavy yet empty vows of eternal love with him, but it was as if he had read your mind. You were expecting him to take every opportunity to use his new prized possession. But when he leaned in for your first kiss as a couple, a melodious chuckle escaped his cherry-tinted lips and he whispered, so only you could hear, “You hate me that much Angel?” before landing a soft kiss on your forehead instead.

How confusing. Were you wrong about holding preconceived notions about this mysterious man? No, you stifled a bitter laugh. He was your enemy. The reason why you had to see your father cry for the first time in his life. You straighten your posture waiting, as he prowled near the bed, leisurely trailing his fingers along the silk sheets as he walked towards you.

You plastered on a smile, revenge was the only thought echoing in your heart. Yes. He was a man at the end of the day. A power-hungry dictator at that. Men like him had voracious appetites. He was bound to slip. And you would love to break him piece by piece, even if you had to use your body for it. If he thought himself a predator, then you would be the sweet bait luring him towards his end. There was no place for anything else. No place for any doubts.

The corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk, and he placed one hand around your waist. A slender finger looped the soft string of the robe covering your modesty and pulled. 

The cold air caressed your body, which was now bare for him to see. His blue eyes boldly regarded you from your head to the toes, yet his face betrayed no emotions.

If he was affected at all by your sight, he hid it well. The only thing that showed his hunger was his slightly heavy breathing and the way his adam’s apple bobbed as he stood there silently. The air crackled with anticipation. 

‘Just get this done and over with!’ you found yourself thinking. But you couldn’t hold back the yelp that escaped you when suddenly, he wrapped strong arms around your shoulder and under your legs pulling you into a bridal carry.

You stared confused, as he walked deeper inside the room and pushed aside the curtains to reveal the opulent bathtub. The air was heady with the aroma of mint essential oil. A soft steam rose from the hot water ready for a bath. 

He looked at you, eyes peering so deep into yours, silently asking for your permission. When you nodded your head in assent, he crouched, gently placing you in the welcoming embrace of the hot water. You half expected him to leave you there, with the way he flitted around the room in an almost bored fashion. 

But then he returned to your side, carrying a small bottle of scented oil and a washcloth. His eyes never left yours as he uncorked the bottle putting droplets of red liquid into the bath.

The water bubbled and the air around you soon turned sweeter with the perfumed scent of cherries. He stood to his full towering height and slowly, deliberately looped his fingers around the strings of his black silk robe, unfastening the material and sliding it off his shoulder as if giving you a show.

And your traitorous eyes followed the offensive piece of cloth as it slipped languorously from his wide shoulders, down his slim waist, towards his plump and shapely rear, and finally descending to his long legs to pool around his feet. 

You simply couldn’t comprehend why you were finding it increasingly difficult to remove your eyes from him. To make matters worse, the pompous man stretched languidly, a sly glint in his eyes as he watched your throat work slightly at the sight he presented. And surely what a sight it was. Wide shoulders, strong pecs, abs that lined the way towards that delicious v that sat there like a prelude to his impressive manhood. 

You jolted out of this debauched train of thought, mentally slapping yourself at the act. ‘Focus…remember why you’re here’ you chided yourself, biting down on your lip hard, tearing your gaze away from that devilishly handsome man.

‘Yes, that’s what he is. A temptation, best remember that’

“Make room” he ordered, his voice was husky, and the baritone reverberated deep to your bones, making you shiver despite the hot water covering your body. It was the voice of someone who was made to be obeyed. To be pandered to. You moved a little and he climbed in, sloshing the water around as he settled behind you, pulling you between his long legs and resting your back flush against his chest.

He was so close, it made a blush rise to your cheeks. Strangely this was more intimate than any carnal act you imagined him to perform. The silent sensuality he possessed as his fingers combed through your hair, made your breath come out in pants, leaving small puffs of smoke in the overheated room and he hadn’t even begun yet.

He grabbed the washcloth and rubbed slow circles on your back. Brushing a calm path on your neck, to your chest, onto your stomach, and just as you thought he’d touch you there, his hand stopped. You bit your tongue, desperately holding back the frustrated groan that was about to leave your mouth.

For a small while, he laved your body with warm scented water, thoroughly cleaning, and pampering you. But then his patterns changed. He discarded the washcloth and used his palms instead to rub and massage your shoulders and neck, occasionally teasing near your rear and the inside of your thighs but never truly touching where you wanted him the most. Yes, wanted.

You hummed in contented bliss, all coherence already long evaporated from your mind. And soon his lips began to chart the area where his hands had been. You leaned back further into the welcoming cage of his strong arms when your lower half pressed against his long length, and your eyes almost popped out of their sockets. 

And then you did something surprising both him and yourself. You lifted your rear and ground it slowly along the girth of his manhood. A soft hiss escaped him echoing in the small room, and his hand gripped your shoulder tightly, pulling you back into him as he turned your face with his other hand to stare into your eyes.

“Angel” he muttered, voice rough with lust and something more primal that he held in. “Don’t play with fire, when you are so afraid to get burned” and somehow it felt like a warning and a plea at the same time. He sighed and ducked to press a soft kiss to your cheek. His long black hair seemed like a dark halo atop his head. 

You smiled to yourself, ‘He calls me an angel, yet himself resembles one. A fallen angel’

He rose, and you wearily eyed his raging erection begging to be touched. But he swiftly wrapped both your naked bodies in velvet robes and carried you back towards the bed. 

He placed you down on the feather-soft pillow. The handsome man towered above you, hands on either side of your face, as he stared, having an internal battle with himself. Unable to resist, you opened your mouth, uttering the first words you ever said since you stepped into his world. Your first words to him, “Why didn’t you take me?” 

He was startled. Then his features softened, and his cold palm cupped your cheek. “Not like this”, he replied. 

Then rising, he lay behind you, pulling the covers over both of your bodies as he hugged you from behind. “I’ll have you when the time is right. When you come to me first Angel” he whispered in your ear, stroking your hair. Sighing, you melted into his embrace. Finally realizing that maybe you were wrong, after all. Maybe you had left some space unguarded in your heart. Enough for him to creep in.

[part -2]

14 Days with you Royal Au (ongoing series) [Pairings- Enemy Duke! Redacted x GN Reader]

[Word count- 3172] [CW- Angst, Smut, Knife play] [A/N- Previously posted in the 14dwy discord server. Redacted belongs to @14dayswithyou]

[part 1] [part 2]

Part 2: The Evasive Enemy

You sat picturesquely at the ornate oak desk, absentmindedly twirling the quill in your hand as you stared blankly at the parchment resting before you. 

‘Whatever will I write?’ You mused silently as you dipped the tip of the quill in the open ink pot and scribbled the first words that came to your mind after an hour-long of dilly-dallying.

The dimly lit marital chamber was quiet save for the occasional scritch-scratch of your quill. 

Dearest Father, I am in good health. I know you have been worried about my prolonged silence to your lettered inquiries. But I find myself at a loss for words at the way I have been so utterly taken care of here.  We were mistaken to assume that he would fall for such baser fancies. A week has passed by and he has not visited since. Never laid a finger upon me. Always quiet and busy with his own devices. I am at a crossroads. The azure-eyed Duke seems even more mysterious now that I live under the same roof as him. Father, I have been granted permission to peruse his archives, without any surveillance. This seems suspicious, almost like a well-set trap. Though he is yet to show any animosity towards me. But I would be foolish to look a gift horse in the mouth. Keep your worries at bay father. I shall always keep myself and my safety first.  I have received the information about the article through your trusted aide, and I will bide my time until it's safe to infiltrate his study.  Until then, take Care. I will keep you informed.

Sealing the letter and putting it in the drawer, you stretched languidly and gently pushed the chair back. Your long robe billowed behind you as you trudged towards your four-poster bed and plopped upon the welcoming plushness of the pillows. Unbidden your face lolled to the side and your eyes landed upon the golden ring that rested atop the pillow on his side of the bed. The ring that he had left behind for you. It was the only evidence that he had actually been here. In flesh. 

The whole week, you were treated to rich meals, dressed in the finest of silks and jewelry, yet amidst all the niceties something constantly felt amiss. At first, you brushed it off to mere homesickness, but as time passed a cruel understanding dawned upon you. 

On those rare occasions when you caught glimpses of the Handsome Duke walking in the hallways, you felt this forlornness tug at your heart. Even back at your family residence, although you were loved, the brunt of all the responsibilities fell upon your shoulders after your mother’s death. You were always expected to be the guardian and the responsible oldest child for the five of your younger siblings. 

So gentleness and affection were seldom directed towards you. Hence when the Duke showered you with so much tenderness that first night, in his warm embrace you felt like you belonged. Like you had finally found a tether for your wandering soul.  His cold gaze slowly travelling the length of your body like a hidden caress, still lingered fresh in your mind and you felt guilt simmer in the back of your throat.

You were not here for this. Your life was far from normal and he was the reason why your great noble house had perished. Yet you simply couldn’t will yourself to forget the touch of his hands, the graze of his warm lips on the sensitive spot on your neck, or the way he hugged you when you slept. You hated to admit it, but you were downhearted to find yourself alone the morning after. The whole estate was abuzz with the news of the Duke consummating his marriage with the oldest child of the rival clan.

You were not a fool, nor were you naive enough to avoid the snarky gossip that always bubbled under the pretense of politeness in your presence. 

“His Grace has not visited them after the first night…”

“Maybe he was not satisfied?”, the servants chortled as they flitted about your room while cleaning or serving you meals.

You let them babble because your target was something else entirely. The Duke had something in his possession. Something that linked him to the murder of your mother and the conspiracy that destroyed the reputation of your house. Your initial plan was to seduce him and distract him enough that he began trusting you to let his guard down. Yet here you were, trapped in a golden confinement, with every treasure in the world laid at your feet. He even went ahead and granted you access to his archives and his office, without even batting an eye. This gnawed at your mind and slowly chewed you up on the inside. 

‘Does he not care?’ You wondered. 

You were named, ‘The prized possession’ by the people in the estate. Compared and downgraded to the several expensive objects that the Duke won and then instantly got bored with. Lay in some deep recesses of the estate gathering dust and forgotten. They said that you will soon be treated like that. And somehow this line of thought added to your insecurities.

“Or Maybe I’m not as important as I thought myself to be…” you murmured, suddenly regretting not putting in more effort that night. Regretting not begging him to stay. 

A flurry of activity and noises caught your attention breaking this downhill stream of thoughts. Rising fluidly you walked towards the bay window and nudged it open checking for yourself what all the ruckus was about. The young maids giggled and chattered under your window, pointing towards the practice grounds for soldiers. 

“Look, the Duke is out sparring today” The ladies squealed and peeked from behind a bush. Your interest piqued, you walked towards your balcony and leaned on the vine-covered railing to get a proper view. Surely enough, the young duke was in an intense sparring match. He was wearing black leather pants with high boots, his torso left completely exposed for all to see. You gulped unconsciously, eyes traitorously following the way his muscles rippled when he threw, blow after expert blow with his war sledgehammer. His long black hair swished around and beads of sweat rolled down his pale skin making you shiver involuntarily, at the way your degenerate mind imagined him sweaty and panting atop you in bed. 

Before you could make a hasty exit, the Duke’s eyes flitted to the balcony as if sensing your presence and his mouth lifted in a half smirk like he somehow knew what was going through your mind. Blood rushed to your face and you quickly ducked inside.

Evening fell. You were bathed and dressed by the chambermaid Iansa. She was very sweet and you two had bonded over this last week, getting familiar with each other through the little interesting anecdotes she shared about the Duke’s estate. 

As she took your leave, you began your daily routine. Sitting half-dressed in the center of the bed like some common whore waiting for the Duke to visit. Only that he took much pleasure in keeping you on your toes and never visiting.

A beat of silence passed. The oil lamps lining the walls flickered. Until the last shred of your patience cracked and you rose from your bed. Putting on the lush slippers you pushed open the giant double doors and walked outside into the cold and empty hallways of the Duke’s mansion. You marched towards the Duke’s office throwing all caution to the wind. 

“This is enough, I’m done waiting” you mumble as you neared the entrance to the office. Slowly, you entered inside finding it absurd that nobody was guarding the entrance to this room. You smirked to yourself, reveling at the idea of seeing the surprised expression on the Duke’s face once he realized how you, whom he thought so insignificant, was the one responsible for putting him in his rightful place. The tyrant deserved nothing but to rot in a prison. Strangely enough, the thought of getting revenge helped keep this gnawing urge to kiss the smirk off of his smug face at bay.

“Serves him well for treating me like a plaything” you mutter under your breath as you eagerly work through the rows and rows of documents filed neatly for your tampering. A chilly air from the open window, nipped at your exposed skin, the scant lace outfit not providing much to shield you from the cold temperatures. You suppressed a shiver as you grabbed a few files and took them to the window to get a better look at, under the moonlight pouring in through the glass window.

As you skimmed through the documents, a warm hand snaked around your waist, spinning you. Surprised, you were about to let a scream fall from your lips when another hand pressed tightly on your mouth, muffling it effectively. 

“Shhh Angel, we don’t want to alert the guards now, do we?” A husky voice asked. Moving from the shadows, the moonlight bathing his figure, Duke Ren smiled down triumphantly at you, like a predator who had just caught his prey.

Slowly, he released his grip on your mouth only to rest both his hands behind you on the desk effortlessly trapping you between his arms. His face inched closer as his ice-blue eyes burned into yours, “So you finally grew weary of waiting, I assume” he purred. His deep baritone made you think of unspeakable things.

You clenched your teeth, staring back at him defiantly, “Why ask me to wait if you were never going to visit” you hissed, mulish and miffed.

His eyes widened by a fraction, warm chuckle spilling through his cherry-tinted lips, bringing your attention to them. 

“Why, Angel such…temper” he tsked, “One would think you missed me.” His hand shot out, trailing a slender finger on your temple, down your cheek, only to come to rest at your chin. His calloused hand cupped your jaw, bringing his thumb to your mouth to trace the shape of your lips. 

Your breath hitched in your throat, as he rubbed the pad of his thumb across the seam of your lips, pushing and prodding until it entered your mouth. His thumb moved around, exploring the warm wetness, as his face came impossibly closer to yours, “Let me in, Angel” he breathed.

And you don’t know if it was the curiosity or the way his eyes held your gaze so enticingly, that made you want to obey everything that fell from those lips. Closing your eyes you opened your mouth wider, wide enough for him to push three fingers in, pumping them in and out as your greedy tongue lapped against them. Unbidden a moan escaped you, and his other hand grabbed your hip, fingers digging into your flesh as he roughly pulled you closer to his body, thrusting your cores together.

“Look at me love” he whispered in your ear, nipping the shell playfully before his mouth descended to your neck, to leave open-mouthed kisses.

You groaned and opened your eyes, breath already coming out in shallow pants.

“For someone who claims to hate me, you sure love me touching you. You like to think of such debauched fancies don't you?” he snickered with roguish pride, “Driving you wild. Taking you to the depraved depths and back…defiling you” he spoke hotly in your ear, his erection tenting temptingly in his leather pants.

“Please” you begged, not knowing if you wanted him to release or ravish you. 

“Please what Angel?” He challenged smirking cruelly as he, all too soon, removed himself from you, and folded his arms across his chest, regarding you with thinly veiled amusement.

A wild blush rose to your cheeks. He waited in silence as if he expected you to actually utter the vulgar words. Your chest still heaved, body warmed up with his skillful ministrations. And suddenly your mind painted an image of him in bed with other people. Jealousy like never before threatened to take over you. 

‘How is he so skilled? Has he been going to others every night?’ You mused darkly.

“Let me go” you whimpered, angry tears pricked your eyes half from humiliation and half from longing. Pulling the lace robe tighter to cover your modesty you whispered, “I do not belong here” carefully avoiding his eyes.

“Hm, I see” he began, as he leaned down, slowly sliding a dagger out from his leather boot. He balanced the blade on his fingers as he almost toyed with the weapon.

“You are right about one thing, Angel”, he drawled, as he stepped into the moonlight giving you a good view of the dagger in his grasp. Its silver blade glinted sinisterly in the dark, bejeweled hilt looking magnificent, fit for a person of his stature.

His blue eyes flit to yours silently daring you to break eye contact, “you don’t belong in this room” he murmured, pointedly staring at the scattered documents around you. 

“Bu-but you gave me access to your archives without surveillance” you sputtered, licking your lips as you felt cornered by his unrelenting gaze. A quiet dread filled your guts.

He tilted his head, regarding you with an inscrutable expression, and you took him in for the first time this evening. He was wearing all black like always. A silk shirt with the laces half done that exposed his broad chest. Tight high-waisted bottoms that accentuated his shapely midsection. His long black hair was loosely tied in a plait, making him look like a vision. 

But something about the way his sapphire eyes glimmering with that melancholic look, made him appear vulnerable in this moment.

A beat of silence passed, and he waited, the air simmering with the heavy tension between you both, as he looked at you with hopeful anticipation. For what, you didn’t know.

Slowly, tentatively he walked, closing the distance between you both again.

“Angel” he breathed. And somehow that one single word broke you. For it was spoken with such disappointment and fragility you never expected from this tyrannical Duke.

“I gave you access to my archives because I trusted you.” He ground, “I went against my advisers, against the whole estate, vouching for you, marrying you. Why do you think there was no guard stationed outside this room?” With each uttered word he stepped closer until you both were hairsbreadth apart.

“So tell me, was it all for naught?” He stressed, and the accusation stung like he had slapped you.

But you couldn’t lie to him. Not when you have been so perpetually lying to yourself. 

“This was a marriage of convenience between our households and nothing more, your grace” you replied curtly, ignoring the way his grip tightened around the dagger or the way his gaze darkened at your blatant aloofness. But you pressed on, delivering the final blow you knew would break him.

“You were and will continue to be nothing to me”

A snarl escaped his lips, and he was on you in an instant. You could feel the cold metal of the dagger pressing against your neck as he hissed, “Go. Take it all away. Whatever you were here searching for, take it. But do not lie to me Angel” his voice cracked, gaze softened, eyes searching your face desperately. 

“Not when the longing in your eyes so plainly mirrors the longing in my heart”  

Maybe it was the way the dagger pressed into your throat, a slice away from stealing your life, or maybe it was the way your face reflected in his ocean-blues, as if you were the only thing his eyes saw, that you yanked him close, pulling his mouth to yours in a needy kiss.

A low groan escaped him, sending a shiver down your spine. His hot tongue slipped into your mouth roughly entangling with yours in a sensual dance. 

You arched into him. The metal of the dagger sandwiched between your throats,  pricking your skins, was an ironic symbol of the enmity and the dark lust that often surrounded you both.

Every caution, every coherence fled your mind when his other hand raked through your hair, angling you into a deeper kiss. As the scant distance between you diminished, the blade broke your skin, sending you into a frenzy of pain and pleasure.

The heady aroma of mint and cherries invaded all your senses, mingled with the scent that was uniquely his. You were drunk off of him, intoxicated and utterly lost in depravity.

But when his teeth clamped down on your bottom lip, a whine reverberated deep in your chest and your hips involuntarily bucked forward, rubbing into his engorged arousal. He groaned and your eyes snapped open at the loss when he stepped back and moved the dagger away from your throat. 

Your mouth involuntarily chased his, earning a soft chuckle from the man.

Catching you by surprise, he suddenly dropped to his knees. He grabbed your wrist, placing the dagger in your open palm, as he stared up at you. 

“I am at your mercy now, beloved” he whispered, hands coming to rest at your thighs as he blinked at you, azure eyes glinting like precious gems in the dark.

“So slice my throat and reduce me to nothingness. But do it while you hold my gaze. For that’s the sight I want to remember when I die” he spoke with a rueful smile upon his face and a fierce anger bubbled inside you at the sight.

You were angry at the way he toyed with your emotions, angry at the way you were lusting after a man who was responsible for your family’s destruction. Angry…at the way you were falling for him.

‘Why did you have to meet me like this?’ was the last thought that flashed in your mind as you flung the dagger across the room vehemently, shattering the ornate mirror adorning the wall. 

You gave him one last searing look before marching to the door, not wanting him to see the lone tear that had rolled down your cheek.

The moment your hand reached for the handle, his slender fingers wrapped around your wrist spinning you around, as he pulled you flush to his chest. 

A hand cupped your cheek as he leaned in kissing the tears that fell traitorously from your eyes. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. He simply rocked you in his embrace peppering kisses on every inch of your face. 

Then his head ducked down, languidly licking the little wound left behind by his dagger. His own neck held the same marks as yours.Just when you thought he was done, he tilted your chin making you face him fully as he whispered against your mouth, “Poor choice to keep me alive. Now I shall remind you every passing second of the day, that you are mine” he purred, “Mine to love and mine to ruin”

Conan Birthday Post A small fic celebrating the man Conan is✨

[Pairings - Conan x GN reader] [Conan belongs to @14dayswithyou]

Sonnet 18

Long fingers inched along the spines of the books. A soft swish of breeze tickled your nose, carrying the faint notes of coffee and crisp leaves. The dull gold of the evening sun highlighted his fiery strands, making you want to brush your fingers through them. You sighed, tasting the season of romance in the air.

Swish…tap…thump

He was so focused. The repetitive sound of the books wiped clean and stacked in the bookshelf, filled the silent lull of the library.

Swish…tap…thump

Blue eyes curiously peered over the glasses resting on his nose, and in your direction. The faintest of tugs at the corner of his lips told you you had his attention.

You continued thumbing through the pages of the book you held. Reading aloud to a group of teenage girls, trying your best to pretend that his sapphire gaze wasn’t affecting you in the slightest.

A flip of the page, tongue darting out to wet your lips, you cleared your throat. Voice tinkling like the delicate clink of a fork against a glass. Speaking more to him, than the eager ears around you.

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate”

Your voice rang, clear and true. Hiding behind the old rhymes of the Bard’s work. 

What exactly was it?

An admittance? A declaration? Or a confession?

“Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimmed;

And every fair from fair sometime declines

By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimmed”

The sonnet spilled through you, playing like delicate tunes of a piano, subtly serenading the man before you.

And he listened. You know he did.

Although Conan’s diligent movements continued, the occasional pauses, stealthy eyes thieving in your direction was proof that you had him. 

You hid a smile behind the book. It was moments like this that made you wonder. Truly wonder.

What would it be like to call him yours?

Gentle touches, quiet whispers and long lazy mornings filled your imaginative mind. Yes, having Conan would feel like taking a bite out of the warmth that summers are made of. 

Swish…tap…thump

The last book went in its place. Dusting his hands, Conan rose. You tamped down on the disappointment starting to crawl up your throat, when you saw him walk towards the staff rooms.

Your attention wavered. Distraction making you forget the line you were supposed to read next. Slightly antsy, you searched on the page. Eyes scanning each word to find where you left off.

But before you could recover, you felt the caress of a sultry whisper against your ear.

“But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,

Nor shall death brag thou wand’rest in his shade,

When in eternal lines to Time thou grow’st”, Conan continued in a fluent tone, voice a heady mix of a playful tease and something more.

Something you craved to understand. To put into words and etch into permanence.

You sighed, feeling him reach around you and place a cup on the table. A zap of electricity shot through you at the brush of his chest against your back, making you turn around and look.

Blue eyes blazed into yours. Promising feathery dreams of a tomorrow you wished upon several shooting stars.

With joined gazes you smiled, words filtering through your lips of their own accord, 

“So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,

 So long lives this, and this gives life to thee”

He beamed back. 

You closed the book, turning to the girls around you. He walked away, hands already busy with a new chore. 

Such was the relationship between you and him. No big displays of affection. No dramatic exchange of promises. Just silent moments of charged gazes, a common love for literature and warm coffee.

You smiled to yourself, fingers coming to wrap around the cup resting on the table. Fresh coffee prepared, just the way you liked. But what tugged at your heart was the tiny note stuck at the side. 

‘Remember to take breaks <3’

Simpering you folded it, adding it to your slowly growing collection. 

This was special. This was enough.

The sweet susurrus of the satin, you wrapped round my eyes;

I stare blindly, in the face of your many beautiful lies.

Hands on my shoulders, words a stealthy breath;

You spill nectar in my ear, whilst you guide me to my death.

Smoke and Mirrors

Summary- The game mechanics have changed, you can no longer seduce Bailey. But do they succeed in making Bailey forget? Pairings- M!Bailey the caretaker x GN PC

CW- self aware Bailey, slightly nsfw, mentions of trauma

Bailey was harrowed. The last week itself felt like  a lifetime had passed. His usually stoic face now wore a slight grimace. Deep bags sat underneath dark eyes with a tired eclipse in them. 

He was so on edge that he would snap at the orphans millering around, at the barest of provocation. The orphans sensed his ire, steering clear of him. Not even a shadow dared linger near his office.

Inside the blinds were snapped shut, barring entry of any natural air or daylight. It was dank and suffocating. A heavy layer of smoke hung about his office, making the vicinity hard to see let alone sit in for hours on end, yet Bailey chose to do exactly that. Smoking like a chimney and stewing in seclusion during the lazy afternoon hours.

The gentle tic tic tic from the grandfather clock, set a hypnotic rhythm making Bailey’s head throb. Clenching his jaw, he let his head fall back, and hang over the back of the chair. He felt his eyelids droop with barely restrained exhaustion, threatening to take over.

And yet. 

And yet he refused to sleep.

The reason? Bailey scoffed

He was convinced that something was definitely wrong with him. If not, why else would he have these visions? Flashbacks? He didn’t even know if what he saw were actual memories or a sinister conjuring of his deceitful mind.

Bailey was no stranger to nightmares, having had his fair share of trauma in this debaucherous town. Trauma which was neatly packed and stowed away in some deep recess of his mind. Please and thank you. 

He didn’t need this pesky hindrance in his everyday routine. Bailey had far more pressing matters to attend to. But instead here he was isolating himself, all because he was too afraid to sleep.

The notion itself made him laugh out loud in incredulity. Why was this happening? What prompted it? Bailey had wracked his brain all night, when he leaned across the railing of his balcony, letting the midnight air cool his sweat slick body.

He still remembered that image. It was painfully sliced into his memory like a permanent scar. Bailey had jolted up in his bed, unable to breathe for a solid minute. One would think this visceral reaction was a result of him seeing some eldritch horror. It wasn’t. 

Bailey was terrified beyond wits to see a version of himself which felt too real to brush off as a nightmare. 

He knew that if he closed his eyes in that instant, he would see it. Clear as day.

Big hands bracketing the sides of a head. Broad chest enveloping a smaller body. Slaps and pants echoing in the very office he was sitting in. They were standing in front of a mirror. Its surface, all fogged up. Bailey would hear himself chuckle in that dream. Husky and low. And then, his hand would slide over the mirror.

“Look at yourself, wearing that lewd expression” he would whisper to the other person.

“Shouldn’t you thank me for making you feel that good? Such a freak” he would sneer and they would whimper, clenching around him hard in response.

And that’s when he would see it. His face. His own face, slack jawed, eyes crazed beyond sanity, and lips parted in a deep groan. His dark hair slicked back with beads of sweat rolling down his temples. All flushed and lost in pleasure.

Pleasure that he still felt like faint wisps of temptation licking away at his soul.

Pleasure that did not leave him even in consciousness. Pleasure that he knew was so potent that it would wreck him. 

Downgrade and dilute him, pushing him right alongside the filthy heathens he supplied to and made an income from.

Surely he was better than that? Bailey prided himself over his impeccable self control. No amount of luring would break his resolve, he was certain.

But the way that dream echoed in his mind made him doubt himself. That cloud of uncertainty loomed over his head like an oncoming storm. Because if that dream was just that, simply a dream, why did he still feel the touch of that unknown person burn on his skin? 

It was like his muscle memory begged him to remember something he didn’t. Or was it someone?

He grumbled. A soft knock at the door broke this frenzy of thoughts. Miffed, he grunted his assent, “Enter”

The door opened a crack, and you walked in. Bringing in a whoosh of air and a stream of light that made Bailey wince.

“What is it now?” He snipped, “Don’t waste my time” Bailey sat up straighter and stared at you. Dour and unblinking.

“It’s about the payment” you stuttered, “Is there any other way that I could pay?” You leaned over his desk, finger tracing its surface in a slow deliberate manner.

Bailey felt his head throb again, jaw clenched as he tracked the movement of your finger with slight intrigue.

He wasn’t foolish. Bailey understood what you were propositioning. He felt a mocking laugh bubble up his throat, at your sheer audacity.

Did you think him so weak? So pathetic that he would humor you?

“You can pay me with money” he sneered, “That’s what your body’s worth”

“Now scram” Bailey shooed you away, hands busy with lighting another smoke.

You trudged outside, defeated and head hung low. Tears brimming your eyes, you paused and looked over your shoulder, wanting to say a million things to that imposing man. All the frustrations that clawed inside your throat, made you choke out a whimper.

And the lighter slipped from his grasp. Eyes widened with mute horror as the memory of that sordid dream replayed in his mind. 

But this time, when he cleared the fog from the mirror, he saw the other person’s face alongside his. Face scrunched up in a whimper much alike the one you wore right now.

With shaky hands Bailey held the cigarette. A bead of sweat rolling down his spine as he realized something. 

That dream wasn’t simply a dream. It was a memory. A memory that very much took place right here in this office.

He stood up. Legs striding to the front of his desk. Fists balled at his sides, as he felt the echo of the familiar words itching at the tip of his tongue.

In some distant memory he heard himself say,

If it’ll shut you up, I’ll throw you a bone, as he practically pounced on you.

But not today. It was as if some unknown force glued him to the spot. Stopping him from grabbing that sweet sweet release that he seemed to find only in you.

The smoke overhead shifted, standing between you and him like a fragile barrier. You stalled, as if waiting for something to happen. He watched, bound by the rules of his own game.

With a hint of resignation you left, leaving Bailey a questioning, confused mess. He slumped back in his seat, unable to discern dreams from reality anymore.

Slowly killing time. The seconds bleed into minutes. Fingers drumming the funeral march on the rough surface of the table, mourning the loss of another hour. Tear shrouded eyes, surreptitiously flit every so often towards the dead silent phone.

Alone in this lone space, I wish my day wasn’t cheapened like so. Waning with wont of your absence. How I hope I could drown in work. Have something to do with my fidgeting hands itching to reach out to you.

Maybe someday I’ll get to be the important one in this relationship. Maybe someday we’ll switch roles…

When you’ll come calling and I won’t answer.

The Odette

( @odetteeternia )

𝒮𝒾𝓁𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝓅𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉;

𝒮𝓌𝒶𝓂 𝒶𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓈𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝑜𝓃𝒾𝓉𝑒…

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝓇𝑒𝓌𝒹 𝓂𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝓅𝑒𝑒𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝒷𝑒𝒽𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝒻𝓉 𝒸𝓁𝑜𝓊𝒹𝓈;

𝒮𝓉𝑒𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑔𝓊𝓁𝓅𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝑔𝒶𝓏𝑒𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝓂𝑜𝓀𝑒𝓎 𝓈𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝒹,

𝒲𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽 𝒽𝓊𝑔𝑔𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝓁𝓊𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝒻𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓉𝑒;

𝒱𝑒𝒾𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝒾𝓇 ‘𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒾𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝓈𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉.

𝒮𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝓌𝒾𝓇𝓁𝑒𝒹, 𝒹𝒶𝓃𝒸𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓃 𝒸𝒾𝓇𝒸𝓁𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝓂𝒾𝒹𝓈𝓉 𝓇𝒾𝓅𝓅𝓁𝑒𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝒸𝑒;

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝓈𝒾𝑔𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝑒𝓃𝓋𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝓇𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝓈𝒾𝓁𝓀 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒.

𝒫𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝒷𝓁𝑜𝓈𝓈𝑜𝓂𝓈 𝒻𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝓌𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓇𝓊𝒸𝓀 𝒹𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉,

𝒜𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓁𝑒𝓈𝒸𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓈𝒾𝓂𝓅𝓁𝒾𝒸𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝓌𝒶𝓃 𝒾𝓃 𝒻𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉.

Lover

Scritch and scratch, the tip of the pen danced against the paper. My words flowed liquid, tangled in the cursive jumble of my thoughts. Loops after loops, slants and curves, my feelings turned solid as I hung them on the lines like stars.

For you to count and admire, my secrets laid bare like constellations. Holding several meanings and stories I only ever whispered to the moon.

Oh you unknown, whose face I see in dreams, on many a sleepless night.

Oh you unknown, whom I’ve loved , do love, and will love without nary the blink of an eye.

We’ve never met; yet such hold you have on my foolish little heart.

Oh you unknown will you Love me... Love me, until it consumes and tears me apart?