Hello to everyone who knows this blog and to new visitors!
This page is mostly dedicated to AFK Journey simps, but I accept Kimetsu no Yaba simps too, feel free to request any kind of story or scenario for your favorite character! Certainly, within certain rules.
Rules
NSFW requests are open, however, they will not be accepted if your profile is anonymous.
Characters who are clearly underage will only be accepted if their stories involve platonic relationships.
OC × Canon will be accepted! The same with Canon × Canon.
An order can include up to three shots with the same idea.
Seasons for which I write
Starter Story
Song of Strife
Waves of Intrigue
Chains of Eternity
Echoes of Dissent
//Thorn of Devotion will be added soon!
//For kny requests I'll for all seasons and characters!
What I write
Headcanons scenarios
One-shots // Three-shots
Oc insert // For orders with an OC (Original Character), please send me as many details about your character as possible.
[NSFW REQUEST] *rubs hands* AHEM. May I request a bottom!Dionel fic please. With Phraesto. So this is basically Phraesto x Dionel ehe. The basic plotline that I have is that they both have had a little wine, they're both a lil tipsy and are desperate to get it out of each other's system 😉
Ah but please ignore this if you're not comfortable with it!
A/N: 3.482 words. DON'T WORRY!!! I'm trying to improve my NSFW writing, so it's actually nice to receive requests like this. And I apologize for the delay in responding to your request; I had already written it, but I ended up losing the text and had to write another one, so I got a little discouraged :(
The relationship between celestials and hypogeans was something predetermined solely by their origins. No one needed to be a scholarly genius to know that these beings were mortal enemies. Celestials were devoted to exterminating hypogeans and demons to maintain peace and order in the human world, while hypogeans sought only chaos and to subjugate humanity for their own delight.
That was the general consensus, but there was only one human in all of Esperia capable of working around this and forcing these two kinds of beings into a truce. Of course, that someone could be none other than the great Merlin and his infamous mystical house, which gathered the most diverse creatures from different factions: lightbearers, wilders, maulers, even the graveborn showed up for the mage’s casual gatherings. And of course, celestials and hypogeans were no exception.
Dionel, as an excellent appreciator of parties or simple casual meetings, was always present in the mystical house, chatting with that rather adorable little girl about rare and extremely enchanting jewels, or enjoying one of the fine gallons of wine acquired by Merlin during one of his many adventures to save the world. Not that he loved being there, but he liked it, especially because it was a truly cozy space.
But everything changed when he decided to show up at one of these gatherings. The curly red hair that covered three long tails with venomous tips made him unmistakable, the hypogean from the Cinerary Desert: Phraesto. That arrogant posture surrounded by the odor of cheap tobacco irritated the celestial, but what bothered him even more was the way Phraesto tried to approach him, with incessant provocations disguised as false friendliness. Dionel was sitting at the bar, being served in a prestigious manner by Dolly, and Phraesto sat right beside him, even though there were four empty stools.
"What do you want here?" Dionel frowned, showing his discomfort with the hypogean’s presence.
"This is a place of peace and truce, no need to look at me like that. How do you think your dear friend Merlin would feel if you caused a scene?" Phraesto smiled maliciously, noticing how the celestial rolled his eyes in irritation without giving a real answer. "That’s what I thought. You know, I figured you could recommend me one of the drinks here. My throat is so dry after being buried in that hot desert sand."
"What a terrible thing, truly a shame that the hostile nature of the Lord of Dusk did not keep you trapped beneath those sands and desert spiders." The blond took a sip of his drink, hoping the sweet touch of the wine would calm his senses.
"You talk too much for a celestial who runs more than he acts in his role." Phraesto laughed wickedly as he noticed the small vein of irritation rising on the celestial’s forehead.
Dionel remained silent and continued ignoring the hypogean’s provocations. He truly was not in the mood to deal with this and much less wanted to lose the carefree composure for which he was so well known. Dolly, who noticed the tension between the two, tried to intervene by taking Phraesto’s order, attempting to create an opening for the celestial to leave the bar and walk away, but he did not.
"Lord Dionel, would you like anything else?" Dolly asked, already cleaning one of the wine bottles she hoped he would request.
"One more glass, this will be the last." He extended his golden goblet, which was immediately filled with the reddish, almost purple, gleaming liquid.
"Only one glass? Dolly, my dear, serve us the entire bottle at once. I’m sure Merlin won’t mind if we empty just one of them."
Dolly looked at the two men in front of her and simply shrugged, handing him the entire bottle of wine before returning to her tasks.
"Why such exaggeration?" Dionel followed all of Phraesto’s actions with his eyes, from pouring a glass for him to drinking straight from the bottle. "Ugh…"
"Indeed, it is a flavorful drink, no wonder you come here so often." The hypogean said without even looking at the incredulity on the celestial’s face, too busy pretending to read the label on the bottle.
"I simply enjoy appreciating a good wine. It is difficult to find drinks of such quality and pronounced notes."
"I don’t disagree. It really is one of the few good drinks I’ve ever had. The last one was before the war and before my sealing. I should have taken a few drinks with me, though I doubt I would have been able to let them age enough to enhance their flavor." He took another swig from the bottle.
That drew a genuine laugh from the celestial, which immediately made him stop and meet the surprised and satisfied look of the hypogean. Dionel quickly took a sip to mask the brief embarrassment he felt at showing amusement at the words of a malicious creature.
"You should loosen up more. Here, have some more." Phraesto poured a bit more into Dionel’s glass.
"Don’t think I’ll lower my guard just because you’re being ‘kind’ to me. I know your type very well, Phraesto." Despite his unease, Dionel accepted the drink.
"Hm, and what is my type?"
"A lying illusionist, honestly the lowest kind of hypogean. Between dealing with you and that teenage demon who lives with the dwarves, I prefer the teenage demon. At least she knows how to go straight for the stab instead of going in circles like you." Dionel smiled in satisfaction at the offended look on the hypogean’s face, making the wine taste sweeter on his tongue.
"Oh, how cruel, you wound my feelings." The hypogean placed a hand on his chest, pretending to be deeply hurt. "How could you lower me to the level of that brat? I thought you were better than that, Dio."
"Don’t call me that. We are not friends."
"And what’s the problem? At least today we can have a truce and forget the past."
As much as Dionel wanted to refuse, he could not deny Phraesto’s point. There was nothing wrong with it. Everyone else was handling the truce just fine. The maulers with their constant battle spirit managed to coexist with the peaceful nature of the wilders, and the lightbearers could maintain composure in the presence of the graveborn’s cadaverous odor. And of course, the other celestials managed to restrain themselves in front of the hypogeans they were devoted to exterminating.
Dionel sighed heavily. He truly had to restrain himself and not create an unpleasant atmosphere in his host’s house. He tried. At the very least, he and Phraesto shared a common interest in drink, and he decided to take advantage of that to try to get along with the hypogean until he decided to leave. It took time, a lot of time. What was only one bottle gradually turned into four, seven, twelve bottles of wine emptied throughout the night. By then, the mystical house was practically empty. All its visitors had already left, and the last to leave were the unlikely duo of a drunken celestial and hypogean.
It would take more than twelve bottles of wine to intoxicate a celestial being, but there was something special in Merlin’s drinks that made anyone far more intoxicated than usual. And the result was the comical scene of Dionel holding Phraesto with an arm around his neck, staggering along a dirt road they did not care enough to know where it led.
"Careful, man, hic…" Phraesto hiccupped while mumbling something else.
"If you stop tripping over your own feet, walking would be easier."
"Where are we even going?" Phraesto tried to look at Dionel’s face when he realized he had stopped walking. Dionel let go of him and allowed him to fall to the ground. "Hmph! Damn it! What’s wrong with you?"
"I’m not your servant, so shut up… I don’t know where we’re going." Dionel looked around, trying to pull memories from his drunken mind, but without success. "Ah, let’s take a break."
Dionel grabbed Phraesto by the feet and began dragging him to the side of the dirt road, where there was a sparse but dense enough forest to avoid drawing attention from passersby. He dropped his companion’s feet and then sat down leaning against a tree, feeling his head spin from the effort he had made seconds earlier. Phraesto, on the other hand, remained lying on the ground, spitting out grass and dirt that had gotten into his mouth during the transport.
"Hhhm, I shouldn’t have drunk so much… especially with you!" Dionel groaned in frustration. "What was I thinking?"
"Are you going to complain about that all night?" Phraesto got up and crawled until he was lying between the celestial’s legs.
"What do you think you’re doing?" Dionel slapped the top of his head.
"Shut up, you’re comfortable. Just because I spent a thousand years on a stone bed doesn’t mean I like lying on hard things… though you’re a bit hard yourself, but I can overlook that. Having the body of a powerful warrior really is a blessing~" Phraesto smiled maliciously as he dragged the tip of his nail across Dionel’s abdomen. "Do you know how many mauler warriors wish they had a body as indestructible as yours? Many, you can be sure of that."
Dionel shivered as a chill ran down his spine as Phraesto lightly scratched his skin. He did not want to hear the hypogean’s fake compliments, so he immediately pushed his hand away and thrust his hips forward, giving a clear signal for Phraesto to get off him. He would have understood the message if his mind had been clear, but it was completely clouded by alcohol, so not only did he fail to understand it, he interpreted it in another way.
“I heard you often come to Espera to sleep with humans.” His hand slid down and caressed Dionel’s thigh. “That doesn’t look very good for someone of your position. How many human families have you destroyed by seducing their wives?”
“What?! That’s not what you’re saying!” Dionel felt his cheeks burn at his words.
“Oh, really? You know, I always thought that kind of behavior was something a hypogeus would do. I even tried it a few times, but those mauler women are more interested in battles than anything else.” His hand moved down to the inside of his thigh, until it reached the growing bulge covered by the black fabric of Dionel’s trousers. “It would be a novelty for me, to experience this with a man, a celestial one at that. I’ve always wanted someone to be defiled, and it would be wonderful to do it with you. Just look at that, how absurd! A celestial being ruined by a hypogeus~”
Dionel froze. He understood perfectly what Phraesto was insinuating. As much as he wanted to deny it and maintain his pride, he shrank from the shame he felt when Phraesto had asked that question: “How many human families have you destroyed by seducing their wives?” It was true, how many? He loved coming to the human world to have fun, drink good wine, and when he felt like it, he liked to flirt with charming peasant women who knew how to hold a decent conversation. Most of them, if not all, were already married, so adultery became inevitable when it came to satisfying his own desires.
He had never stopped to think about the consequences of committing adultery in a world he shouldn't interfere in, and having his actions compared to those of a hypogeus had severely wounded his pride. Being touched by Phraesto as a form of punishment sounded tempting, yet ridiculous; he couldn't deny that the man had truly fascinating mannerisms, but that didn't negate his malevolent existence.
Dionel couldn't suppress a groan as he felt the cold air hit his most vulnerable parts. Phraesto had been bold enough to tear the celestial's pants, amused by the surprised expression on his face. The hypogeus brushed his lips against the inside of the celestial's right thigh, scratching the pale skin with his sharp teeth, deeply relishing Dionel's frustrated attempts to hide how much he was enjoying it.
"You're not ashamed, are you? It's pathetic." Phraesto laughed, pulling Dionel by the hips to bring him to the ground and allow more access to his body.
"I'm pathetic? You can barely stand up and I'm the one who's pathetic?" Dionel tightened his thighs around the hypogeus's head, chuckling softly at his frustrated groan.
"Well, I'm not the one who's ashamed to face the consequences of my actions." Phraesto bit his thigh, laughing as Dionel spread his thighs, groaning in pain. “I wasn’t the one who slept with a housewife and then dumped her without explanation, you did that, and you even made her listen to a piece of your mind from her husband. What a shame, a celestial being doing this kind of thing. You really are very pathetic.”
Phraesto grabbed Dionel’s penis, squeezing it tightly and pulling it from base to tip, smoothing the frenulum with his thumb. Satisfied with the celestial being’s reactions, who felt a mixture of pleasure and pain, he lowered his face between his legs and began to lick the seam between his buttocks, amused by Dionel’s shivers as he masturbated him. With a little effort, Phraesto managed to invade the inside of his buttocks with his tongue, snaking it between the folds and threatening to pierce his anus with his tongue.
What a shame to be at the mercy of a hypogeus like that; all Dionel could think about was how humiliating the situation seemed. He had never slept with a man, never been the one receiving pleasure; he was always the one who led others to such heights, trapped in the fantasy that, being a celestial being, he was good at absolutely everything he set out to do, including sex. But there, with Phraesto, he was completely vulnerable and, without wanting to admit it, he was also enjoying the attention.
Phraesto stopped and managed to stand, kneeling before Dionel and displaying his own erection, which was painfully pressed against the grass. The hypogeus grabbed Dionel's hair and pulled him to his feet, which Dionel did, blinking with pure impatience, only to be silenced immediately when he felt the hypogeus's long tongue invade his mouth. He didn't have the provocative calm that Dionel so strongly employed in his seduction; Phraesto even liked that, but at the moment he had no patience for provocations and preferred to get straight to the point.
He quickly dominated Dionel's mouth, entwining his tongue with his, delighting in the viscous softness of its interior, while he caressed the celestial's body and rubbed his own erection against his, seeking friction that could relieve him. That wasn't enough; they certainly wanted much more than what was being done, and Phraesto quickly turned the tables, placing Dionel face down directly beneath him.
"Ah— what…" Dionel tried to get up, but was prevented by the weight of Phraesto's foot against his back.
"Who said you're going to be on top?" Phraesto laughed, caressing Dionel's buttocks through the fabric, then spreading them apart and caressing his entrance with his fingers. "I have to admit, you're a charming man."
Dionel squeezed his eyes shut as he felt Phraesto insert two fingers inside him. The lack of lubrication bothered him a little, but it didn't cause him pain; on the contrary, it was a completely new sensation to have that new corner explored. Phraesto's long fingers stretched his insides, separating them to open them in a V shape and prepare him a little more for what the hypogeum intended to do.
Dionel bit his lower lip, trying to stifle his own moans. He didn't want to give Phraesto the satisfaction of knowing he was enjoying this, but he couldn't hold back when he felt the tips of Phraesto's fingers massage his prostate while the other hand eagerly milked him.
"But I want to see if you'll maintain that same charm when you're demoted to one of the mere mortals you like to play with in your spare time." The threatening tone in Phraesto's voice sent an alarming shock throughout the celestial's body.
The hypogeus quickly positioned himself at her entrance and sank against her, invading a previously immaculate space. The burning sensation of that sudden invasion, mixed with the weight of Phraesto's foot firmly pressed against his back, took the air from his lungs, causing his eyes to roll back for a moment, eliciting a deep, sadistic laugh from the lungs of the demon who was profaning him.
The hypogeus was anything but gentle; the first thrust against Dionel's hips was strong, and the following ones were even more intense. The penis of that evil scorpion stretched him far more than his fingers and filled him so much that he felt full to the brim. Dionel dug his fingers into the soft earth, holding himself back from succumbing once more to Phraesto's provocations, who held his hips firmly to keep him pressed against his own.
"Look at you, all pathetic down there, are you enjoying this, Dionel?" The hypogeus removed his foot from his back and leaned forward to grab the celestial's hair and pull him closer.
"Hmph, just shut up..." Dionel groaned softly as he felt Phraesto's hand snake down to his neglected penis.
It was swollen and painful, the reddened tip leaking pre-semen in torrents, only giving Dionel the damned reminder that he wasn't the center of attention this time. On any given night, his penis would be graced by the lips of one of Esperia's many ladies or too busy filling their insides with semen, but with Phraesto he was being ignored, painfully neglected, and the help of his hands alone wouldn't normally be enough to make him ejaculate, but this, combined with the constant stimulation of his prostate, was something unique.
“I wish you could look at yourself in a mirror right now, see the shame you are~” Phraesto whispered in Dionel's ear, without losing the rhythm of his thrusts. “You have no idea how much fun I'm having right now.”
“You're not the only one…” Dionel smiled smugly. “You know… it's been a delight for me to be so pampered by a hypogeus.”
“W-what did you say?” Phraesto slowed down, his voice becoming harsher. Dionel sensed the danger that tone represented.
“I’m always the one who does all the work, so someone better serve me this time~” The celestial being had finally found a way to destabilize the hypogeus’ pride.
Phraesto grabbed Dionel’s neck, squeezing hard enough to leave marks on his skin. With his other arm, Phraesto embraced his hip and pulled him closer, resuming a relentless rhythm that elicited deep, painful moans from Dionel.
“Still think you’re being served here? Hm?! Tell me!” Phraesto chuckled amidst the panting moans. “Ah, you can’t, can you? Put yourself in your place, here you’re my toy and you’re serving me!”
Dionel was beginning to lose coherence in his thoughts as the cloud of lust enveloped him. The constant stimulation of his prostate was causing him to accumulate an indescribable heat that radiated to the aching tip of his penis. Phraesto increased the pace even more, even though he was making mistakes as his own orgasm hit him hard. Spending a millennium without a way to relieve himself took its toll in an incredibly painful way; he felt the heat radiate throughout his body, causing spasms mainly in his hips and injecting thick, hot jets of semen in abundant quantities. Soon after, Dionel reached his own limit, painting the fingers of his hypogeum white.
What happened after that, they are not sure; they only know that they mysteriously woke up in each other's arms with a massive hangover. Dionel wanted to avoid interacting with Phraesto at all costs, who in turn wanted to provoke the celestial being, making him remember the night he was defiled by an evil creature. Even with this desire to never see the hypogeus again, Dionel ended up having to admit to himself that he had enjoyed what had happened between them that night, and on yet another night of drinking, a second round took place.
Content: Fluff/Comfort +18, Canon × OC, Male × Male
Synopsis: Shinestar feels suffocated by the title of Magister Merlin. Korin ends up being his salvation at a time when he just wants to be treated like a normal person.
He was feeling so confused. From the moment he woke up, everything seemed so out of place. Shinestar, or simply Shiny, carried the burden of a title he didn't even remember having to begin with; now he needed to live up to it and not disappoint anyone. Even though it was exhausting him.
At first it had been fun, Valen and Mirael were amazing people, but all the attention he was gradually receiving became increasingly strange. The fact that Chippy and Hammie were constantly flattering him at every opportunity to flatter him was bothering him more than he would like.
He didn't tell the hamsters; he didn't want to hurt their hearts and furry friends, and in the end, he didn't tell anyone how he was feeling about it all. Now he was on a boat heading towards the Dark Forest, in order to discover the cause of the corruption that is destroying the lands of the wilders.
It was a completely different environment from what he was used to, not that it was bad, in fact it was quite pleasant, and for the first time he didn't find himself surrounded by admiring and flattering glances. Shinestar was actually captivated by one figure in particular, a hero to say the least.
They bumped into each other by chance; Damian was about to be attacked when a man with a large scar on his face appeared to save the little boy. He was not only fascinated by the agility, but also captivated by an incredible detail: his arms were wooden prostheses. An extremely complex model, full of ingenious and magical devices, which was later discovered to have been made exclusively by Damian.
To say that Korin's stern gaze and gentle demeanor didn't captivate the mage would be a lie; he was completely enchanted. While everyone else was resting in a makeshift camp, he was the only one left awake, watching the wood burn in the campfire.
"Aren't you going to sleep?" Shinestar sat down next to him—in a safe proximity.
"I can't, someone needs to be on alert." Korin glanced sideways at the mage. "Can I help you with something, Magister Merlin?"
"Hm, no need." Shinestar forced a smile, though he was clearly unhappy. "Perhaps just a little company?
"What makes you want my company? Magis—"
"You don't need to call me that... I... I don't want you to call me that." Shinestar sighed deeply. "I'm so tired of this." He finally confessed.
"Tired of helping people?" Korin's confusion lingered for a few seconds.
"No! Don't get me wrong, I really enjoy helping people, I feel good doing good, but the consequences and the weight of being called Merlin is... too heavy for someone who doesn't even remember who was used to be." Shinestar's gaze met Korin's—that emptiness of glory was understood by both.
"So what should I call you?
"You can just call me Shiny..." A friendly smile escaped the mage's lips, and was quickly reciprocated by Korin.
From that night onward, a closeness had grown between them. Korin struggled to understand why someone as powerful as Shiny would want to be in his presence. Did he deserve the attention of someone who bordered on the divine? Korin was a rag doll compared to what he was and what Shinestar represented, and yet, there was the wizard pulling him by his wooden hands into his adventures.
It was challenging to deal with at first, but Korin began to get used to the mage's quirks. When he least expected it, Korin found himself between the mage's body and a tree trunk, lying on the grassy forest floor, shrouded in the night sky. Should he feel wrong for allowing something almost divine to run through his body as avidly as Shiny did? Using her lips to savor the skin of his neck and touch the scars on his face.
Did Korin deserve all this attention? He kept asking himself that with every shiver the mage sent through him. He didn't feel worthy of allowing the bulge between his legs to get so close to the wizard, but he couldn't help but revel in the friction that Shiny so graciously offered him. The wizard tried to unbutton and remove the layers of fabric from Korin's torso, but Korin quickly stopped him, grabbing the wizard's wrists.
"Is something wrong?" Shinestar asked, concerned.
"I don't think it's very appropriate to be naked here..." Korin released the mage's wrists and placed his hands on his waist.
"But there's nobody in this part of the forest..." Shinestar paused, until understanding dawned on him. "Is it because of the prosthetics?
Korin didn't answer, though the hardness in his gaze said everything the mage needed to hear.
"Everything's fine, Korin, there's nothing wrong with you." Shinestar smiled, leaning in to kiss him and then continuing to peel away the layers of fabric. "You're not broken..."
Korin shuddered as he felt Shinestar's lips trace the curve of his neck, kissing down to where there was no more flesh, only wood. The mage's immense affection was enough to give Korin the courage to pull him closer and capture his lips once more, sucking and gently nibbling them, while his tongue swirled gently inside his mouth.
A hoarse groan escaped his lips as he felt the mage's hand massage the bulge in Korin's pants, slowly moving up to reach the waistband and pull it down. giving freedom to the volume that was beginning to squeeze him uncomfortably.
Korin didn't hold back and quickly moved his hands to grab the wizard's trouser leg and pull it down. Their penises touched, brushing gently against each other and sending soft shivers through them both.
"Magister... Should I?" Korin whispered. "I don't think my hands are the most pleasurable."
"Don't worry about that, but, um, are your prosthetics sanded down?" Shinestar smiled, seeing that he had managed to elicit a chuckle from Korin.
"I think it's best not to risk getting splinters." Korin touched the wizard's forehead with his thumb.
"I had a better idea..."
Shiny grabbed both cocks, pressing them against each other and gently masturbating them, trying to find a pleasant rhythm. The pressure and contact with each other was enough to leave them in ecstasy.
Shine's hips moved rhythmically as his hand gripped both cocks and pumped them eagerly. Korin was in heaven with it all, feeling intoxicated by pleasure and suffocated by the heat of the wizard's kisses as he received such intimate treatment amidst that dense forest.
Shiny stopped caressing Korin and moved away from him, pulling his pants down even further and positioning himself between the man's legs. He was too eager, and with quick preparation, he inserted himself inside Korin, who frowned at the sudden burning sensation.
The need to hold on to something while being fucked from behind took over Korin, and his arms gripped the mage's body tightly as he opened himself even wider to receive more of him.
The wizard's thrusts were somewhat clumsy, though quite strong; Korin was already reaching his limit with so much stimulation, and it wasn't long before he ejaculated into his own stomach. Shinestar came soon after, breathless and trembling, giving Korin a slow, hungry kiss.
If Korin ever felt broken, Shinestar was there to make him feel better, in whatever way possible.
A/N: I didn't have many details or ideas, so I tried to make something friendly and cute, I hope you like it, Anon!
Sal’thorin had fallen into a state of chaotic peace now that the queen had been dethroned. As her legitimate heir, Ravion was expected to take control of the situation, even though he had no desire to claim the throne.
All of it was eating at Indris from the inside: the unrest of the villagers, the disdainful nobles, the uncertainty surrounding the kingdom’s political future, the curse. He needed to get away from it all as quickly as possible.
Taking advantage of a rare moment of calm, he slipped into one of the palace’s inner courtyards, where various shrubs and flowering plants grew in neatly arranged clusters.
No one ever came here; there was no politics, no demands—only himself and the quiet he had been aching for after the tension of the past few days. Indris sat on the ground, leaning against a wall as the tightness in his shoulders slowly began to fade.
Soft footsteps echoed along the polished stone corridor. They didn’t alarm him; from the rhythm alone, he knew exactly who it was.
“Magistrate Merlin,” Indris greeted.
“Hey, Indris. What are you doing out here? I thought you’d still be working.” You walked closer and sat down beside him.
“I’m taking a moment to clear my head…” He closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the wall.
“You’re skipping work to take a nap? I’m shocked. Honestly, that sounds more like something Ravion would do.” You laughed when Indris opened his eyes in disbelief.
“What? No! I’m not skipping work!” he protested, then stopped the moment he realized you were teasing him.
“I know, dummy. I’m just joking.” You nudged his arm lightly. “You deserve a break after everything that’s been happening. Honestly? I could use one too.”
“We can stay here for a while. No one ever walks through this wing of the palace. Not even Ravion—probably because he knows I come here to relax.” Indris tilted his head to look at you.
“I’m surprised he doesn’t come here just to bother you.” You leaned closer and tapped his shoulder.
Your hand lingered on his armor for a moment longer than you intended. Not on purpose—you simply didn’t notice. And Indris didn’t seem to mind the closeness. If anything, he appeared even more at ease with you there.
“Magistrate… do you think we’ll ever break this curse?” Indris asked quietly, turning his gaze toward a small, shimmering insect that had landed on one of the leaves.
“I’m working on it. And, to be honest, I hope so too. Feli gave us the key to treat the curse temporarily. With luck, that key might lead us to a real solution.”
You leaned in slightly, offering him a hopeful smile.Indris held your gaze for a moment longer than usual, taking in the way your eyes seemed to brighten with determination. A warm spark flickered in his chest, and he felt more confident just hearing you say it. You had no reason to lie—and the way your fingers gently intertwined with his only proved it further.
Request originally made on AO3. // Contains: Fluff, angst with comfort
Seeing the confusion in the magistrate’s eyes broke her heart. You didn’t remember her? Your dearest student? Your confidant? It felt like some cruel joke, but the genuine bewilderment in your expression eventually convinced Mirael it was all real.
You no longer remembered her, nor anything the two of you had been through together. And even if your memories were gone, you still felt bad about how shaken the redhead seemed. When things finally calmed down, you took the chance to get closer. It was late afternoon in the Aurilizing Wheatfield, the vast golden field gleaming under the sun’s final rays.
Mirael’s melancholic gaze drifted toward you as you quietly stepped to her side, almost shy.
“Hey…” You pressed your lips together, unsure what to say.
“Merlin. It’s… nice to see you.” She forced a smile, still shadowed by sadness.
“Are you alright? You look… kind of down.” The question sounded simple, even clumsy, but it carried sincere intention.
“A little, yes. I can’t really hide how I feel when I’m near you.” She let out a tiny laugh. “So yes… I guess I am a bit sad.”
“I’m sorry…”
“Hm? What do you mean? No, Merlin, you have nothing to apologize for.” Mirael immediately turned her full attention to you.
“I know, but… I can’t help feeling guilty about what you’re feeling right now. It seems we used to be so close, and I just… can’t remember any of it.” Your brows furrowed, a tight ache forming in your chest. “It feels like I’ve hurt you, even without meaning to. I don’t like seeing you this sad.”
“It’s alright. Really.” She lied, the smile she forced trembling at the edges. And it crumbled completely when your hand touched her shoulder in a comforting gesture.
Mirael looked down at your hand, and tears began to form in her beautiful blue eyes. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. A single tear slipped down her cheek, quickly wiped away by your thumb.
Even if you didn’t remember Mirael, something about her still felt familiar. And in that moment, a small flash of memory flickered through your mind.
It had been during a sunset just like this one, in the gardens of the Mystic House after a long study session. The two of you had sat on a carved oak bench near a patch of flowers, talking about random magical theories and what you wished for each other’s future.
And that was when you realized you wanted to stay together, wherever time carried you. With shining eyes and the warmest smile, Mirael had kissed you—radiant, gentle, and perfect. After that, everything had been wonderful. Even studying became more exciting. But then you disappeared, and now that you had returned, that sweet memory had been lost.
Relief bloomed in your chest as the memory resurfaced, but another thought followed: Would it be appropriate to kiss her now? You didn’t want to come across as strange or presumptuous, so instead you pulled her into an embrace and held her until she spoke.
“Were we really that close?” you asked quietly.
“You have no idea.” Mirael smiled nostalgically as she hugged you back. “It was so hard when you were gone.”
“But I’m here now. Even if I can’t remember much… I hope I’ll recover more of our moments while we create new ones. Together.” You pulled back from the hug, offering her a hopeful smile.
That alone was enough to draw a proud smile from Mirael. Maybe the joy was so overwhelming that she momentarily forgot you had only recovered a single memory—because she suddenly threw herself into your arms and pressed a kiss to your lips, leaving a vivid red mark of her lipstick on your skin.
It wasn’t even close to being your first kiss in her memories, but for you, it was still something new—something you were willing to regain piece by piece.
Warnings: This scenario contains mention of stalking, twisted love, and +18 content. The reader is referred to in the feminine form.
A/N: I feel like I strayed a bit from the theme because I tried to make them benign yanderes, so I'm really sorry if it's not that good ヘ（。□°）ヘ
Something was wrong, deeply wrong.
That constant sensation of being watched clung to Cyran’s sharpened senses. A lingering trail of warm magic followed him like a shadow. He would recognize that magical signature anywhere… but if he thought it belonged to who he thought, he might as well consider himself insane. You wouldn’t do something like that… Right?
Though the idea of you following him sparked a warm flutter low in his stomach—mixed with a tight anxiety in his chest—Cyran firmly believed you had better things to do. Just as he should.
He knew he was jealous, even if he didn’t want to be. Yet the need for your attention, your validation, your approval kept growing inside him. Whether he had you or not, he needed your presence somehow.
The truth was that Cyran was tangled in a sickening obsession with you. Not violent, not directly—but his eyes alone were enough to drive away anyone who dared approach you. Pretenders, admirers, anyone foolish enough to think they had a chance. Sometimes he followed you; sometimes he forged small encounters, masking yearning with cynicism before vanishing into the shadows again.
But now… never, in any possible scenario, did he imagine he’d end up in this situation.
From morning study sessions to the fading light of dusk, he couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes burning into his back. Maybe it was just his mind playing tricks, but everything intensified when he heard footsteps behind him in the dim corridor of the palace. He turned sharply—nothing.
Cyran wasn’t easily startled. He dealt with dark magic regularly. Yet this… this was beginning to unnerve him. He had no time for nonsense. With little effort, he conjured a portal and stepped through.
The footsteps grew louder—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled onto the other side of the portal, collapsing to the floor.
“What the hell—” he muttered, trying to get up, only to be held down by a mysterious weight. When his vision cleared and he saw what pinned him, his eyes widened.
“Merlin? What are you doing here?”
“What do you mean? I came to see you!” you replied with a sweet smile—too sweet, too uncertain beneath the surface.
“What?” he blinked, unsure he heard correctly.
“It’s been days since you last showed up. I missed you…” You stood and offered your hand to help him up, which he stubbornly refused before getting to his feet on his own.
“This is one of your games, isn’t it, Merlin? How adorable. I’ve never seen you play this way.” His tone was indifferent, though inside he was burning.
You were cunning, radiant—everything that could captivate anyone. Even him. He wanted to slap himself for it, especially because he had missed your presence too… those accidental meetings, the casual moments at the Mystic House…
“And anyway, I’m busy. I don’t have time for this.” Cyran turned and walked across the warped plane full of floating platforms, disappearing—or so he believed.
After passing through another portal, he arrived at a hidden structure. This was where the highest nobles of the Adamantine Union held meetings—a tall, shadowy tower Cyran used as a personal retreat. He climbed the spiral staircase to his private chamber, filled with bookshelves and confidential scrolls containing all of his corruption.
He sat in his ornate chair, exhaled deeply, and let his shoulders fall. He closed his eyes, trying to banish the ghostly sensation of your body pressing against his earlier. It was too much.
When he opened his eyes, he nearly screamed.
You were there—sitting on the desk in front of him, calm in a way that sent a chill straight down his spine.
“Hey! Relax. I didn’t mean to scare you,” you laughed softly. He was too stunned to respond.
You lifted your leg, nudging his chin upward with the tip of your shoe, too teasing for him. “Cat got your tongue?”
“W-why?” he stammered—rare for him. “You only chase people when you want something. So what do you want from me?” He pushed your leg away, cheeks heating.
“Don’t play dumb, Cyran. Do you really think I’m that oblivious?” You slid his chair closer to the desk. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice how you stared every time you pretended to walk away?”
Your face drew closer, warm breath brushing his skin. Cyran tensed—he’d been found out. Sooner or later, you would discover it. He had simply underestimated how perceptive you really were.
“Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t notice me sooner. You were always the most attentive one back in the Arcane Lyceum,” you purred into his ear.
Too close... he thought. The feeling of being caught made his heart skip a beat, a growing warmth in his chest overwhelmed him, but what excited him even more was discovering that you had taken the time to observe him, to know that you were missing his presence in some way. It was this validation that he hated himself for needing so much.
Cyran choked when you dared to sit on his lap. Was this really happening? The butterflies in his stomach only increased and sent a tingling sensation to a certain bulge covered by his tunic.
"I'm also very glad that you're reserved enough so that I don't have to get rid of certain nuisances, you're truly perfect." Your fingers brushed against his cheek. "And I was dying to have a moment alone with you, you don't even want to know what I had to do to achieve that." You laughed darkly.
As a matter of curiosity, you simply put Dolly and the hamsters to sleep with a spiked drink. It was strong enough to keep them unconscious until you decided to return to the mystical house.
Cyran shivered at your touch, feeling his cheeks grow even warmer. Bad joke or not, he was loving the attention and the physical closeness that he wanted to be exclusively his.
"What do you say?" Your hand snaked up to the back of his neck and grabbed his black hair, gently pulling it.
Cyran gasped at the sudden pull, not even in his most youthful fantasies had he imagined something like this, if he had ever imagined anything that wasn't just being on a pedestal above you. This was totally obscure to him, but he couldn't deny that he wanted it as much as anything else. He wanted your attention in any way possible.
A muffled "yes" was enough for you to pull his head closer to yours, sealing your lips in an awkwardly desperate kiss. You were quick to reposition yourself, resting your knees on the small space of the chair and facing the dark mage. Your nimble hands reached for the golden medallion, unbuttoned his cloak, and then fiddled with the buttons of his tunic.
Cyran rarely allowed himself the pleasure of certain sensations, and here you were giving him a luxury that many around Esperia fantasized about in their hearts, but that only he would have. This in a way calmed his ego, although it hurt his pride a little; it was something extremely contradictory. A possessiveness and need that even he was unable to fully comprehend.
Your hands moved all the fabric away from his body, allowing you to feel more of the mage's warmth. His pale, milky skin warmed and flushed as your lips brushed his neck and descended to his collarbone, leaving kisses and hickeys that would form purple and red marks on his skin. He wasn't the only possessive one in that relationship; none of this was ever one-sided, and you claiming him in that dark room was proof of that.
"Mine..." You whispered. "You better not try to hide them, or I'll make worse ones." The lust enveloped your threat and excited him even more.
This realization gave him the courage to touch you, tracing curves on your hips and caressing the nape of your neck; for him, it was maddening. The way his hands tingled with her warmth was intoxicating and made him feel drunk for a moment.
He slowly rose from the chair, without letting you move away from his body, while slowly pushing you towards the table and helping you sit on it. The rest of his tunic had fallen to the floor, leaving him only with—perhaps—the only white piece of clothing in his wardrobe, which was an undergarment. Cyran was quick to get rid of his clothes, which for him were rags from his adventures in Esperia; undressing someone he had always imagined to be immaculate was like a punch to the heart.
The anxiety to see more of your naked skin screamed in his mind, and Cyran simply cast whatever spell would make the rest of your clothes disappear to any plane whatsoever. He froze when he felt his hand grab the bulge beneath the fabric and pull it out.
Cyran blushed deeply and stifled a moan as he felt his hand slowly pump him, rubbing his thumb against the reddened head that was leaking pre-cum. Cyran lowered his head, resting his forehead on the curve of his neck, giving him shy kisses and light nibbles on his skin.
He felt so pathetic for giving in so easily to his dominance, moving his hips towards his hand in search of more friction. And as good as that felt, he wanted more. Cyran put his arms under his legs and held his hips, knocking him down and forcing him to lie on the table, devouring his lips with eager kisses, licking and nibbling his lower lip and entwining his tongue with his.
You escaped his lips, and he saw in that an opportunity to leave a deep purple mark on the skin of your neck. Cyran positioned himself between your legs and then—in the most awkward way possible—he entered you. Your wet walls squeezed him in the most perfect way. He was enchanted by the fact that you fit him so perfectly.
Your legs wrapped around his hips, while your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him into an embrace. He would be unrecognizable to anyone at that moment; even his hair was a complete mess. It was likely that even he didn't believe he was claiming his greatest rival on top of a table.
All feelings of satisfaction and glory were quickly replaced by the shame of having made it all last so little time. Cyran buried his face in your neck, waiting for you to say something more or tease him about his eagerness, but all you did was grab his hair and pull him in for another kiss, moving beneath him to lift him up and force him to lie down on the table so you could straddle his hips.
You weren't going to let him go so soon, not after all the effort you'd put into having this moment alone.
Oh I’m so happy these are back. I would love to request something with Indris x Ravion after drinking together for the first time (not nsfw) would love to see a silly carefree Indris and a Ravion unsure of what to do with this new discovery.
Drunk! Indris × Ravion
A/N: Hi Annon! That discovery was truly hilarious, those two are terrible! I hope you enjoy it; the story ended up being shorter than I would have liked.
Content: SFW, It contains mention of alcohol, Indris being needy.
Parties were never Indris’s favorite environment. He certainly appreciated celebrations and liked seeing people get along—at least as much as possible, considering that the nobles of Alden Court were usually insufferable.
He had been assigned to guard the event, making sure no commoners slipped in to steal anything, and honestly, he was exhausted. He stood by the palace gate, watching the street and keeping himself awake with the loud music echoing through the hall.
“Indris, my dear!”A familiar voice drifted toward him. It was Ravien, holding two glasses of drink. “I figured you might be thirsty.” He offered one of them.
“Hm? What’s this?” Indris eyed the reddish-purple liquid with suspicion.
“Try it and you’ll find out,” Ravien said, sing-song, wearing that mischievous smile of his.
Indris raised an eyebrow and rolled his eyes. As much as he cared for the prince, there were moments when he had absolutely no patience for Ravien’s childish antics. Still, he brought the glass to his lips, took a sip—and immediately made a face at the taste of alcohol.
“What’s with that look? Don’t tell me you’ve never had wine.” Ravien stifled a laugh behind his fingers.
“I’m not very fond of alcohol…” Indris emptied the rest of the drink anyway and handed the glass back. “But thanks for thinking of me.”
“How adorable.” Ravien finished his own drink, and just as he was about to step away, he felt Indris’s fingers brush his shoulder. “Oh—what…? Are you alright?”
“Stay…” Indris murmured.
It took only seconds for Indris to change completely. His usually pale face had turned rosy, his eyes hazy with a needy softness, and the way he spoke left no doubt about the situation: he was drunk. One moment they were just sharing wine, and the next, Ravien found himself being pulled close as Indris wrapped an arm around his waist and rested his face in the curve of Ravien’s neck.
To say the prince was shocked was an understatement, though pretending he disliked this discovery would’ve been a lie.Ravien shifted, trying to step back, but Indris tightened his hold, making escape impossible.
The prince flushed as Indris’s warm breath brushed against his skin in the chilly night air, and eventually he simply accepted his fate: he was going to be trapped in the captain’s strong, protective arms.
“Indris, we need to get you out of here.” Ravien slid a hand into Indris’s pale curls and gently stroked them.
“Just a little longer…” Indris murmured, pulling him closer still. He tilted his head, his lips brushing Ravien’s neck just enough to send shivers through him. “This place is so boring.”
“Indris, darling, you’re in no condition to keep working.” Ravien chuckled softly. “Come on, let’s go. You need to sleep.”The prince tried again to free himself, but Indris only tightened his grip. There was truly no escape now.
“I don’t want to sleep.”
“Come on, Indris. You won’t like being seen like this once you’re sober.” Ravien cupped Indris’s cheek, lifting his face gently. “If you lie down, I’ll let you keep hugging me.”
That did the trick. Indris willingly left his post for whatever room Ravien would take him to. Getting a large, drunk man to walk without attracting unnecessary attention proved incredibly difficult—but Ravien somehow managed to keep both of them intact and avoid a crowd of curious onlookers questioning the captain’s state.
He laid Indris on the bed and removed the heavier pieces of his armor to make him more comfortable. Ravien didn’t get the chance to step away—Indris immediately pulled him into another embrace. Ravien rested his head on Indris’s chest, idly twirling a few loose strands of his hair.Honestly, this was far more entertaining than any party he had attended in the past few days.
The next morning was even better. Indris was mortified when he realized what he’d done and apologized to the prince at least a dozen times—only for Ravien to shamelessly admit that he had thoroughly enjoyed every moment of it.
