ira

20, he/him

[shidouera]

masterlist

bllk texts

1. stupid idiots

2. matchmakers

3. kaiser’s rat tail

4. rizz

prompts

1. if he won’t do it then i’ll ask someone else. itoshi sae, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro

2. laundry day nanase nijiro

and (hopefull not) more to come soon

[mini-ism]

croon— 08 KINKTOBER ‘23

words: 1.7k

synopsis: just a few days ago, K’ may have come to a stunning realization.

warnings: MDNI!! oral (male receiving), p in v, porn with some plot, spanking, choking, degrading, praise, friends with benefits.

K' gazed intently at you, his lips gleaming with fresh saliva. he gave a coy smile, "i know exactly what you want."

his look became one reminiscent of the moments you shared. the skin-to-skin moments, the rough and the soft, the intense and tender moments. the moments spent in his sheets, mewling against him, and ones with his hand against your hip or ass, gripping and grabbing as much as he can cup. the look he gave you that could juxtapose any intimacy you had and any passionate, heated sex you may have ever experienced in his presence. 

just a few days ago, you were in his bed, your tits spilling from your shirt. he grabbed the hemline, yanking both your shirt and your bra down to your lower chest. K' is not one to often smile, however, a sly look painted his features handsomely. he took a breast into his hand, skirting your ribs with his fingertips, squeezing it firmly. a whimper left your lips, wincing slightly. he rolled a nipple between his digits, playing with the bud. "you're quite the brat, you know?" he cocked his head to the side, flicking your sensitive nipple harshly. you inhaled sharply, the pain in your body heightened and laden deep with lust.

"you like that?" you nodded, his hand inching its way from your tit to your ass. you crawled over to him, as he was sitting against the headboard of his bed. truth was, K' and you were friends, and for quite some time now. it was one night while at his, you were drinking with him, and he kissed you. things moved fast, and the memory is fuzzy and intense, but from then on-- having sex with K' was part of your day-to-day, a part of life. gently, you sat in his lap, K's hands now free. you looked up, cupping his cheek and kissing him heatedly. 

K' moaned into the kiss, his eyes shut and his thick arms snaking around your waist to wrap around your frame. your lips collided, the kiss growing hotter with each second as breaths and tongues were exchanged, the taste of the other lingering in both mouths. his grip on you tightened, your eyes screwing closed even tighter, the torrid and prolonged kiss becoming lewd with moans and whines. K' pulled you farther into his lap, his hips working to grind himself against you. heat pooled into your gut as you felt your panties dampen, your body shaking with anticipation. K's tongue felt so warm and fat on yours, his lips moving with yours to form sloppy kisses.

K' slowly pulled away from your mouth, moving to your neck to suck on the tender skin there. he kissed your throat gently, whispering a lustful "do you like this?" on your heated skin. you felt his tongue move from your larynx to the meeting point of your trachea and your mandible. K' kissed downwards, then, back towards your clavicle. "i bet you fucking love this." K' sucked on the side of your neck, nipping at the tender flesh that protected your jugular, eliciting a breathy mewl, letting it pass from your lips, little babbles making their way out alongside whimpers.

"you want more, brat?" he grasped the other side of your jugular dangerously, applying pressure against the vein with his single hand, murmuring against the previously suckled skin. your vision slowly grew fuzzy as your hearing went out slightly, the sensation giving you a pseudo-high. "do you? use your words. i don't take silence for an answer, and you of all people should know that."

you stammered over syllables for a moment or two before stuttering out a weak, "yes, p-please..." you felt the menacing, yet rare, smile form on K's warm lips as he let go of your neck. K's big, thick hands found their place on your waist as you moved to straddle him. he leaned against the headboard behind him, dragging you against his clothed erection. he tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, watching you move gently, your hips rolling in unison with his grasp. 

you watched as he threw his head back, his teeth nearly drawing blood from his plump lip. K' sighed, his brows furrowing with every moment. his fingers dug into your sides, K's pace quickened, his grip bruising your skin through your pants. abruptly, he stopped. "hold on, now." he muttered, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his skin-tight leather pants. you could see the thick bulge through his boxers, still shocking you to the core. he grinned bashfully, watching your eyes flicker from his cock to his face, and back down to his cock. "i always know you like what you see." he said confidently. 

you nodded shyly, palming his cock through the fabric. his body was receptive to your soft touch. he let out a gruff "mhm," lazily watching you stall the inevitable. he knew he was going to fuck you, whether you want him to do you there and then or not, you'd succumb to him. you'd accept him, he knew you would. he knows what his body does to you. this is definitely what friends do, and they feel this way for each other, right?

he feels somewhat "anxious" every time you're around, but K' could never admit it to you. he could never tell you how cute you look in any other way, but this one. he could never admire your beauty openly like he could when you're on his dick, how gorgeous you are when you let him fuck you. he doesn't know any better, and he sure as hell doesn't know how to say it to you personally without using his body. but whatever works, yeah?

you're just so sweet, he truly couldn't help himself. slowly, you pulled his boxers down, freeing his pretty dick from its confines. lust flooded your senses as his cock twitched in your grasp. your hand moved itself on his shaft, dragging up and down, precum bubbling at his tip.

"kiss it." K' demanded. following his stern direction, you leaned your head down to plant a kiss on his aching tip. "stay there." he followed up, his left hand grabbing the back of your head to keep it there, his right now on his cock. K' slapped his tip against your lips, then your cheek, and moved his grabbing hand to cup your cheek and open your mouth with his thumb. you complied eagerly, opening your mouth, and staring at him through your eyebrows. K' slid his tip between your lips, slowly guiding the rest of his shaft into your jaws. K' crooned, the feeling of your tongue licking his thick shaft and the warmth of your mouth fogging his judgment. 

you continued to lick down his shaft, gagging on his sheer length, his scent flooding your senses. your hand moved to his base, stroking it slowly with your dominant hand. 

“that’s it, angel.” he purred, watching you go down on him. you eagerly licked his cock, sliding it between your lips repeatedly. a small smile began to form on his face as you swirled your tongue around his tip. slowly, you pulled away, pawing at his cock, asking for more stimulation.

“please, K’, please?” you pleaded, your wet pussy begging to be stretched by his girth.

he said nothing in response. he pulled you closer into his lap, pulling off your pants alongside your panties. what was left was your bare form, your body which he had seen before has not lost its spark. K’ still gets riled up every time he sees your body, your entire self, so vulnerable. there’s something quite erotic about you that gets him off, nothing in the world can compare to the effect, or detriment, it had on his mind and his own body.

“i got you, baby, hold on.” he muttered somewhat incoherently. you adjusted your hips to be atop his, eagerly awaiting his entry inside of you. you silently gazed while he adjusted his cock, slapping your entrance a couple times with his thick, lengthy dick, aligning his tip to your entry point. you drew in a breath, feeling the tip poke at your leaky pussy. a small whimper left you as he pushed in, his hands now resting on your ass, guiding your hips down onto his hardened cock.

what felt like searing pain quickly ebbed into pleasure as he slipped inside you with relative ease. moans passed through your lips as he moved in you, pumping his shaft into you like you’re his cocksleeve. his nails dug into your flesh as he quickened his pace, fucking into you steadily with his girthy dick.

“oh, oh, K’, fuck…” you whined, “it’s— it’s so good…” you threw your head back, saliva escaping from the corner of your mouth.

“you got it, pretty baby. yeah, fuck,” he smiled at you encouragingly, watching you lose yourself on his cock. one of his hands moved to your inner hip to rub your aching clit, eliciting more lewd moans and noises from you, “that’s my bitch.”

K’ quickened his pace, ramming into you again, as he too, lost himself within you. your body, your eyes, your soul, it was all too much for him. he fucking loved it, didn’t he? no, no, he adored every single bit of it, every bit of you. love was an understatement. oh, god, what was he thinking? is it so wrong to think of you this way? what had gotten into him?

you. you got to him.

just the thought of you brought him to the edge, just as he is now, thrusting himself into you. fucking as much of his dick as he could possibly fit into you, panting and moaning at the divine sight of you nude, taking him of all people. fucking you absolutely insane while you take it raw…

it was all too good for him, he was gonna come, and soon.

“angel, i’m close, i’m really gonna come…” he panted, spanking you as you ground your hips onto his.

“me too, K’, oh— i’m… i’m really fuckin’ close…”

without warning, K’ moaned loudly, letting you finish right as he did, hugging and squeezing your waist as your hips spasmed and stuttered on his cock from your orgasm. the abstraction of the mind and pleasure washing over you overwhelming your senses. your orgasm ebbed and flowed through you, K’s cum seeping from inside you outwards.

but that was just a few days ago…

[danijaci]

obsession w/ sunday

inspired by @yandere-romanticaa's fic! Tehee your works are so eye opening 0.0 <333 I licherally haven't created a yandere content for such a looong time lolol let's see if I can still pull this off lmao

WARNING/S: Yandere, Obsessive Behavior

☆⋆｡taglist☆⋆｡

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@ichikanu @harmonysanreads @yellowelectroslime @miraclecherryblossomsblog @rossithepixie

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@chanontherun @almostfuzzyharmony @boothillsbootyeater @lobbitack

@hydroarchon-furinaa @pleniluneg4ze @keirennyx

[whatagrump]

Apparently a lot of people get dialogue punctuation wrong despite having an otherwise solid grasp of grammar, possibly because they’re used to writing essays rather than prose. I don’t wanna be the asshole who complains about writing errors and then doesn’t offer to help, so here are the basics summarized as simply as I could manage on my phone (“dialogue tag” just refers to phrases like “he said,” “she whispered,” “they asked”):

“For most dialogue, use a comma after the sentence and don’t capitalize the next word after the quotation mark,” she said.

“But what if you’re using a question mark rather than a period?” they asked.

“When using a dialogue tag, you never capitalize the word after the quotation mark unless it’s a proper noun!” she snapped.

“When breaking up a single sentence with a dialogue tag,” she said, “use commas.”

“This is a single sentence,” she said. “Now, this is a second stand-alone sentence, so there’s no comma after ‘she said.’”

“There’s no dialogue tag after this sentence, so end it with a period rather than a comma.” She frowned, suddenly concerned that the entire post was as unasked for as it was sanctimonious.

[thewritinggrindstone]

And!

“If you’re breaking dialogue up with an action tag”—she waves her hands back and forth—”the dashes go outside the quotation marks.”

[writing-is-a-martial-art]

Reblog to save a writer’s life.

[jaydove-writes]

Thank you

[localcanadiancryptid22]

Oh my god thank you. No wonder grammarly keeps complaining about my punctuation when I boot my writing up into word counter

[susujelly]

The LADS guys except they got lost in another game

[usagiumiko3]

Well damn this is the kind of level of obsession I love 🤭

[shidouera]

this is my last straw

[luxmundi-i]

art by the.gauntlets

gofundme for the family

[shidouera]

what do you use for the bllk text messages ?

i actually think it was memi message on the apple store but it was so difficult to use 😭😭 i think u should just try looking up fake message on the appstore

[shidouera]

hrrgrhrhrj i’m sobbing something about reading a full story/multiple chapters of a fic instead of just one chap really hits me like a truck I NEED RECOMMENDATIONS NOW😭😭😭

[nvuy]

hey gorjous im just curious will you ever write for aventurine?by the way loveeee your works

rose-tinted glasses & the scent of you — aventurine

summary. you’re offered a chance to win close to a million credits. only issue is, you suck at poker. luckily, some blond man with the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen comes to your aid.

notes. who is aventurine and no i will never write for him. it is 3:30am and i am now going to sleep goodnight!!!!

warnings. the dude your playing poker with is an asshole and says some strange things, i guess a bit of power imbalance, gn reader but referred to as ‘beautiful’ or ‘gorgeous,’ light cussing, i don’t know how to play poker and i fight the gods trying to write aventurine.

“So… tell me… what made you think you could win?” 

The older man stares you down with those awful brown eyes. They flicker even darker than black itself in the low lights of the VIP room he’s dragged you into. 

You glance up from your deck of cards. Your fingers are trembling. You swallow and tell the man, “I never even agreed to play this game with you.” 

The man leans back in his chair. He merely rolls his eyes. The woman over his shoulder—and she’s a gorgeous woman. She looks much too young for him—giggles at his antics. She looks more like a prize than anything. 

Your eyes snap to the man’s again. “And I don’t want to be your arm candy.” 

“Oh, but that’s what you were made for.” The man yawns as if he could be doing anything else with his time. And he could have; he was rich. Filthy rich. He paid for women, cars, and every high end restaurant in this district that was under his name one way or another. All his. He could have been off on his yacht somewhere in the ocean for all you cared, sipping a nice martini. 

But, no. 

He’s here. And he wants you. 

Some lowly office worker. You knew the gut feeling when you stepped into this casino, and you had ignored it. Now, you were kicking yourself repeatedly for it.

“Play.”

You almost consider throwing your cards down onto the table and storming out, but the room is closed off by two big burly men standing on either side of it.

And if you give up, he wins.

But he’s already winning, anyway. 

“Play the game,” he repeats, this time firmer. 

“I’m folding,” you said with just as much vitriol. You drop your cards onto the green velvet and swallow your pride. 

The man hums with triumph, drops his deck—of course, a royal flush glimmers back at you on his pristine customised playing cards—and collects the chips in the middle of the table. 

“That’s another round for me,” the man whispers across the table. “Another drink?” 

You shake your head. The thought of him making you down even more liquor with him made you feel sick. “Can I leave?” 

“‘Leave?’ It’s only round four.” The dealer takes the cards silently. Another woman. Her name badge reads ‘Jewel,’ though you’re sure that’s not her real name. “You said it was best of five.” 

You look down at your hands.

They’re still trembling. 

“This isn’t fair.” You try not to tear up, but your voice shakes, and it’s difficult to mask. Your hands continue to quake and your legs can’t remain still. You were sure he could feel the floor vibrating with how you bounced in your seat. “I can’t even play with these cards–” 

“I hope you’re not suggesting I’m taking advantage of you, beautiful.” 

Your face screws up at that. 

He’s not cheating. How can he possibly cheat? You had elected the dealer yourself, per his request, and had been watching him like a hawk for the better half of an hour. 

Your hands were awful every time. Not even a simple pair. Just random useless low valued cards thrown together, while the man opposite you seemed to have an endless amount of tricks up his sleeve. 

Poker was luck based. Mostly. There was skill and strategy, but it was like detective work. You’re no professional, but the dealer has no idea what they draw for each player, and the chances of you being drawn a horrible hand twice in a row now was creeping up on you.

It’s all guesswork and mind games. Being a sleaze is this dude’s lifestyle. You work in an office answering phone calls all day.

You glance at the dealer again. She’s still shuffling the cards by hand, and she’s not looking at them either. There’s no possible way she could know what she is handing out. 

You sigh shakily. “No.” 

The man leans back in his chair. 

Then, he glances up when the door opens behind you. The woman over his arm gets up and leaves. 

At first you presume the man has called in another woman by the way his eyes light up.

His grin is wicked. “Mister Aventurine, you son of a bitch.”

He gestures to you and says, “you’re in luck. Maybe this’ll be your turn around. You’re going to need it.” The man leans back in his chair, suddenly smug.

You feel a hand brush along the back of your shoulder.

There’s a strong scent of clove oil and chestnut as the newcomer, Mister Aventurine, glides past your chair and over to the man’s shoulder. 

You notice flicks of water on his coat.

“Evening, Keres.” His voice is just as smooth. “It’s raining hard out there.” 

“Is it? I ain’t been out since this mornin’.”

When you take a proper look at him, he’s wearing clothing more expensive than all of your bills combined. That was real fur around his collar; you could tell from the organic coarseness of it, and the way the pattern was inconsistent and natural. The watch around his wrist was most definitely real gold with an emerald green face. 

And hair is perfect, laid down flat, but with pieces fluffed out intentionally. Everything is done with purpose. He carries an air of confidence to him, and it only falters for a moment when he adjusts the black gloves on his hands. 

He’s wearing rose-coloured glasses.

“Harassing the locals again?” Mister Aventurine asks playfully. 

He’s talking about you.

You bristle in your seat.

“Hardly.” The man, whom you now know as Keres, leans over the table with an arm on the velvet. “This one’s gotten a little too excited at the prize money.” 

“And how much is that?” Mister Aventurine finishes fixing his gloves before he stands up straight. 

“A good seven-hundred and fifty thousand. Enough to pay the bills for the year and get yourself something nice, right sweetheart?” He raises a silver credit card he pulls from his pocket and waves it side to side. “All right here on this shiny, pretty card.”

You feel like a fish staring down a hook with worm bait stuck to the end.

He’s speaking to you again, but the question  remains unanswered. Keres raises an eyebrow—and you would have considered him handsome if didn’t make you feel nauseous every time he spoke to you—and waits.

You say nothing. 

Mister Aventurine is looking at you now.

You feel as though you’re being hypnotised. Though the colour of his eyes are left muffled by the rosy tint he wears over them, they’re so bright. There’s two colours you can barely decipher: some sort of light green and a deep purple.

And they’re beautiful. 

“I take it you’re winning?” 

Keres picks up his deck of cards for the dealer as she lays them out on the table.

You swallow as she deals out your hand next. You don’t even want to flip the cards. You already know it’s over.

By some miracle, you have to win this round.

Keres had gone easy on you the first round, calling your bluff and being wrong, since you told him you weren’t sure how to play, and he felt only the slightest bit bad he roped you into the game in the first place.

Now, he didn’t care. 

“‘Course I’m winnin’.” 

Your teeth grit behind your lips.

Dickhead.

You swallow and peek at your cards. 

Huh. They’re actually not so bad this time around. Your hands had been awful for the last hour. 

Mister Aventurine is still looking at you.

You try not to return his gaze. You keep your eyes glued to the table. 

Mister Aventurine hums curiously.

You can still smell his perfume, and the delicious bottom note of vanilla musk, even as he stands on the other side of the playing table. If you weren’t in the position you were in, you would have asked him what he was wearing. 

He clears his throat. 

You glance up at him.

Then, he nods subtly at you, seemingly pleased. “Great hand, Keres, don’t you think?” 

“The secret to winning is to remain humble, Mister Aventurine,” Keres reminds him. 

You almost scoff. 

Mister Aventurine’s lips tick up into a grin. “Is that so?” 

Then, he tilts his head slightly towards you. It’s not enough to look awkward or out of place, but it’s just enough for you to notice the very small, and nervous tick of one of his gloved fingers by his sides. 

He’s still staring at you. 

And there, slightly warped from his curved lenses, is a rosy and mirrored reflection of the man’s cards. 

For a moment, you look away, glancing at the security guards situated behind you standing in front of the door. Though you still could never make a run for it because both of them were triple your size, one of them was tapping away on his phone, and the other was leaning against the wall and staring off into space. 

You turn back around. 

Mister Aventurine merely raises a brow. 

Keres notices that. “Taking an interest in my opponent, Aventurine?”

Aventurine does not move to address the man, too afraid he won’t garner the correct angle on his glasses again, but his eyes do flit in his direction. “Maybe.”

“Don’t use that charm just yet, sir. I’ve got a game to win.” 

“Of course.” It’s a mere send off of his tone, as if he’s just carelessly thrown the words in to keep the man satisfied. 

He’s doing this on purpose. 

You glance down at your cards again. 

Keres’ hand is good. It’s not amazing, but it’s good. It’s almost an even match, though the game is tilted slightly in his favour. 

But, he doesn’t know your cards. 

Neither does Aventurine. You think. Unless those freaky eyes grant him a sixth sense, and he can see through the card backs like an x-ray. That wouldn’t surprise you in the slightest. 

You exhale as steadily as you can, trying to slow your racing heart. 

Then, you whisper, “if this is the final round, I’m going all in.” 

Aventurine’s face does not shift. His lenses flicker in the lights, and for a moment you panic, convinced that the reflection is lost.

It returns a moment later. 

Keres grins. “As you wish.” He slides all of his own chips into the centre of the table. 

ೃ༄

You’ve confused Keres, that’s for sure. The round has been lasting a lot longer than he liked, and as he grew more and more impatient, he grew sloppier. 

You’re not any good at this game. You’re not a genius strategist, that was for sure, but judging by the slight flinch in Aventurine’s face when Keres slammed his hands on the table, you could tell he was being run around the very table he sat at. 

He’d first accused you of cheating halfway through the round, so much so that the security guards were ordered to pat you down for extra cards, and the dealer was escorted out of the room. 

Then, Aventurine had rested a gloved hand to the man’s shoulder and reminded him, “calmness is the cradle of power, my friend.” 

That barely calmed him down, but it was enough to seat the man again. 

Now, Aventurine was not showing you his hand anymore, but you didn’t need it. 

“I’m raising,” Keres whispers. 

Aventurine’s eyes narrow suspiciously at his deck. 

You swallow. 

“Then I’m calling your bluff,” you mumble. You won’t fold. Not here. Not when you know you’ve won. 

Your heart is racing.

There’s a small voice in the back of your head telling you that you may have overstepped. You may have grown too big in your own head. 

Aventurine is staring at you, completely expressionless. He’s casually leaning against the back of Keres’ chair. 

Come on. Come on, come on–

You grip your cards for dear life.  

Keres drops his cards. “Fuck you.” 

You sigh in relief and drop your own cards.

You bury your face in your hands and lean against the table on your elbows. You could cry. Oh, you could get on the floor and weep to the Aeons. You could give Aventurine a giant kiss on the lips. 

Oh, thank the Aeons for blond men. 

You didn’t have to worry about waking up in this man’s bed tomorrow morning. 

Keres gets up, and as he does, Aventurine adjusts his posture and clears his throat. He says nothing when Keres passes him. 

There’s a nasty whisper of a, “some lucky charm you are,” before the credit card is thrown into his chest. 

Keres hits you in the shoulder on his way out. The security guards allow him through first before they both file out. They close the door to the VIP room behind them. 

You contemplate leaving as well. You just desperately want to go home. It’s getting late, you think. You had caught a glance of Aventurine’s watch before, and the large hand was ticking towards nine o’clock. 

“Congratulations.” It’s warm. It’s genuine. When you turn, Aventurine is holding out the credit card in front of him. “Don’t forget the ‘shiny, pretty card.’” 

Your chest warms, and you feel this is the first time you’ve smiled properly in a long time. 

You move closer to the man. “You…” You hesitate before the credit card, but Aventurine makes no move to pocket it for himself and leave. “I- I don’t know how I can thank you enough for this.” 

You take the card and stare at it for a moment. 

Then, you place it safely in your coat pocket. 

Aventurine tilts his head, confusion scrawled onto his face as saunters past you easily to hold open the door for you. “Thank me for what?”

As he waits, he pulls off those rosy glasses and folds them neatly. He holds onto them.

Oh. 

His eyes are beautiful. A light blue ring surrounds his slightly slitted pupils. A gorgeous rich royal purple wraps at the edges of his iris, bordered by a thick black ring. 

You stop for a moment before you step towards the door, looking equally as confused. “The reflection? With your glasses?” 

Aventurine looks down at the said pair in his hands. He then smiles, but it seems more to be polite and to entertain you. “Sure.” He shuts the door behind you when he follows you out. 

You knit your brows together. 

Then, it wasn’t intentional.

Or, he’s just really good at playing dumb.

You can’t exactly tell.

His grin spells mischief, however. “Would you like a drink?” 

Your eyes flit towards the bar. It’s always fully stocked, and the bartenders are always lovely, but the idea of liquor in your already churning stomach makes you feel sick. “Oh, no. But thank you. I’m probably just going to go home.” 

“Of course. It’s late.” Aventurine glances down at his watch. “I’d be more than happy to walk you to your car, if you’d like.” 

You blink at him, only slightly dazed. 

You felt as if you had just swallowed three shots of straight vodka. 

Your legs feel unsteady for a moment, and you’re afraid you’ll teeter and fall flat on your face. You can smell his perfume again. It’s stronger now since he’s standing so close to you.

It’s almost humiliating how easily he sends blood rushing up your neck. 

“I don’t- uh… I don’t have a car,” you murmur. 

Aventurine blinks and takes out his phone. “Then I’ll call you a cab.” 

“Thanks.” You clear your throat when his lips stretch into a smile again. Embarrassingly, you add, “you smell so nice.” 

He laughs then, and you like the sound. He narrows his eyes playfully. “Thank you.” 

As if it couldn’t get any worse, blondie then offers you his arm. You could’ve melted on the spot into a puddle of goo all over the plush red carpets of the casino. 

The sound of slot machines, loud chattering, and drinks clacking together in toasts, drowns out the sound of your stuttered breathing and the roar of blood in your ears. 

Aventurine greets one of the staff members on his way out. His arm linked with yours is gentle, more of a persistent comforting anchor than a leash to drag you around in.

He smells really, really nice. 

Your face grows hot.

This is so bad. 

It’s raining outside. The entrance to the casino is large enough to provide enough relief to city goers seeking shelter from the rain. The press of the heating from inside dissipate as soon as you step through the doors.

It’s freezing. The wind whips and sounds as though one thousand ghosts float through the air, lost to time. 

You’re relieved the exterior roof keeps you mostly dry. 

You shiver. 

“They’ll be a cab for you in five minutes,” Aventurine says softly. He lets go of your arm. You ignore the disappointment you feel in your chest. 

“Thanks.” You cross your arms over your chest to shield yourself from the cold as best you could. “You don’t have to wait out here with me.” 

Aventurine looks at you strangely. “Well, it’s not like I’m doing much else.” He gives you a once over before you hear his clothes shifting. 

This is so awkward. 

You feel the foreign tickle of expensive and real fur on your neck. 

You glance at him suspiciously before your shoulders are swamped in his jacket. It’s warm, warmer than anything you’ve ever worn from the velvety insides and his own body heat, and heavy with luxury. 

Your heart stops when Aventurine hums, pleased. 

Your hands shoot to the white fur on the collar to shuck it off and hand it back to him. “I’m fine, really–” 

“Oh, please.” He waves you off gently. “You’re clearly freezing.” 

“I’m really okay–” 

“And would you look at that.” Aventurine straightens up and pushes his rosy glasses back onto his nose bridge. “Your cab’s early.” 

You shrug off his jacket, careful with the expensive material. “Thank you so much, but–” He pushes it back onto your shoulders, following you to the car door. “Mister Aventurine–” 

“I insist.” He opens the door for you. “You’ll freeze.” 

You can’t imagine him standing around in a suit vest and a shirt is warm, either.

You say nothing about it. You practically fall into the back of the cab, shocked. 

“Take it home.” 

“‘Take it–‘” You shake your head. You feel like you’re dreaming. “I can’t take this home. This thing is worth more than the money I just won.” 

But it’s warm, and it’s weighted in the most comforting way.

It calms your nerves. 

“It’s nothing fancy. It was only around one-hundred thousand credits.”  

“Are you serious–” 

“Take it.” And he is serious. You can see your reflection in his glasses. “Please.“ 

His eyes are really, really beautiful. 

You find yourself lost in them for a moment. 

His back is slightly soaked from the rain. He barely notices it. His hand rests on your knee when you swing your feet into the cab. 

You nod once, more to reassure yourself than anything. “Okay.” You look up at him. “Thank you so much.” 

“Don’t mention it.” He offers you a gentle wave before he shuts the door and the car drives off. 

He is cold. Frightfully so as you watch him shiver through the rear view mirror before he steps back into the casino. 

As the cab moves, you relay your address to the driver and sit back in the seat. You feel like you can finally breathe, but when you do breathe, you only smell chestnut and vanilla, and it blurs and muddies your senses nicely. 

You bury your icy fingers into the pockets of Aventurine’s coat, sinking into the neckline until the fur tickles your ears. 

Your fingers come into contact with something smooth and cool, like glass.

You fish it out. 

It’s a small perfume bottle. You pull the clear lid off of the tip of it and curiously smell the top. It smells exactly like him, the same perfume that’s drowned you for the last hour.

You don’t think you can get enough of it. 

You feel only slightly guilty for digging around in this man’s pockets—and, unsurprisingly, you don’t find a wallet—before you fish out a pair of fancy looking golden dice with light green dots on the faces. 

The dice, the perfume, and a small card. Not the credit card you won. That one is tucked away safely in your bag. 

It’s a business card. His business card. His name, what you recognise as the IPC’s logo, and his phone number are written in gold lettering on the laminated white card. 

You hum curiously.

Then, you fish out your phone and slowly type his number onto the screen. 

You: thank u 4 winning 2night for me. & the coat. the coat is nice. x

Sent 9:56pm

Aventurine: You found my gifts! :0 Did you like them?

You: maybe. i did like ur vest btw.

Aventurine: You can have it next time ;)

You find yourself smiling. Your fingers tremble with excitement over the keyboard on your screen.

You: i’ll give u a kiss 4 it :*

Aventurine: Done, deal. Pleasure doing business with you, gorgeous.

You have a feeling your wardrobe will be full of his clothes in the not so distant future. 

[shidouera]

WHAT DID TUMBLR DO TO THE TAGS AGAIN 75% OF MINE ARE GONE

[hualianisms]

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[robotpussy]

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[yaekiss]

💕𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝑭𝒊𝒄!

Ever wanted to see you and your blorbo in a Situation? Or maybe you'd like a continuation to a previous fic of mine? You're in luck!!

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[kisstrela-deactivated20240714]

HIIII so ive read your latest work "who did this to you?" and since I can't comment on anything at all so imma write it right here then.

imagine- imagine wriothesley, alhaitham and dr ratio found dying us just like in the blade's part? so basically the plot is when we are dying and the men who loathed us, are the one who found our dying-almost-dead body. i need ✨angst✨

ask and you shall receive 😌

𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐔𝐏 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐒...

...of you.

ᯓ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 .ᐟ wriothesley, alhaitham, dr ratio x gn!reader (separate).

ᯓ 𝐜𝐰 .ᐟ nonnie wanted angst, so here it is 🙏, ok so y'all know the basics: mentions of blood/death, dying thoughts and all that emo stuff, a touch of fluff, hurt [no] comfort, ew ew EW what was this 😭 im so sorry anon my writing utterly fell off here (i wrote this while sick so pls bear w me), i PROMISE y'all my fics will get better, 2k words!! a nice short read i suppose. this took it out of me bro 🫡

ᯓ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 .ᐟ this is part-two-ish to this fic. essentially—another, similar scenario with the same characters!! have an idea/suggestion? my inbox is open! don't be shy 💛

ᯓ WRIOTHESLEY .ᐟ

Heavy breaths. From you and the man standing six feet away. Only the silhouette of his tall, rugged frame was visible. His boxing gloves steamed and glowed an ice-blue in the darkness of the alleyway, and the subtle drip, drip, drip echoed across the walls, liquid trickling off his gauntlets. 

It was pretty clear what the liquid was; bodies riddled the ground, some slumped up against the walls, most sprawled in twisted, broken messes on the floor. His wide shoulders rose and fell rhythmically, laboriously. There was the scratch of a boot shifting, and he looked at you.

“…No matter what I do,” the Duke began, his face totally shadowed. You sat against the wall, drawing in deep breaths to calm your heart and the adrenaline rush, and to fight off the pain of your cracked rib. He didn’t move from his spot. “You can never keep yourself safe."

“I never asked you to do this for me,” you replied, voice weak. It hurt to breathe. “I never asked you to run to my aid. In fact, I was very sure you loathed me. If so, why didn’t you leave me to die?”

There was no response from him. Wriothesley kept still. It was so cold—the air around, traces of Cryo, the wall and ground you laid upon, and the silence. 

“…Are you hurt?” Finally, he faced you fully and slowly approached you. He made no sudden movements. “Your breathing is laboured. Where are you injured?”

“You can go now.” You held up a hand to stop him. “You’ve done your part. Thanks for wiping those guys out for me. I can get home by myself.”

Wriothesley eased to a squat before you, and his boxing gloves disappeared. His elbows rested on his knees, hands hanging limply between his thighs. “You’re coming back to the Fortress with me. Do I have to have you move in with me just so you’ll stay out of trouble?”

“Trouble that’s none of your business.” Resting your head back against the brick wall behind you, you shut your eyes loosely. “And move in with you? Please. That could only happen if we married.”

Silence. You didn’t quite have the energy to really think about the effect your words had. With what you could bother, you then added, “And that will never happen.”

The Duke didn’t say a word. Something about the detachment in your own tone pricked at your conscience and heart. Did I just make a massive mistake?

You tried not to think too much about it. The piercing pain in your side was occupying your mind, and you refused to let slip any sign that you were gravely injured to this man. It’s best if he leaves.

“Do you need to go to the hospital?” he said after a long few moments of tight silence. “I know you’re trying to act tough so I’ll go away. Well, that won’t happen.

“Dammit—you’re really frustrating, you know that?” You tried to sit up straighter, before slumping back down in defeat against the pain of your broken rib. “And—ugh—confusing. You say and act like you can’t stand the thought of even breathing the same air as I do and then you turn around and do something completely different! It’s like—it’s like you’re lying to yourself—denying something, and—”

“Who said I hated you?” He leaned closer. You still couldn’t see his face, but you could feel his eyes. “Who ever said I hated you? Look, I’ll admit that you’re not the easiest person to get along with—at least, for me. I tolerated you. I don’t anymore. I’m worried about you. That’s why I beat these thugs into a pulp for you. It’s something I would’ve done for anyone. But housing you, taking you in when you were injured and scared? Nursing you so late at night, when Sigewinne would’ve been long asleep? Do you seriously think a person who wholeheartedly hates another would do that for them?”

“There’s an old, wise saying, Wriothesley—actions speak louder than words. During all the months I’ve known you, you’ve been nothing but an asshole—”

“Well, then, I’m sorry for that. I really am. But I acted that way because you pushed my buttons. I disliked you. I never hated you. If I hated you—truly hated you—I would not be here, right now, doing my best to make sure you’re unharmed.”

“I’d like you to leave,” you managed out, eyes shut and teeth gritted against the sharp stabs of pain dealt to your side each time you inhaled and spoke. “I don’t believe you have any more reason to be here. Stop sending mixed signals.”

“I’m sending mixed signals?” The incredulity in his tone made your eyes snap open. “Or are you just…blind?” 

“I do not have the energy to deal with this right now—”

“No, you don’t—which is why I’m taking you straight to Sigewinne.” Wriothesley stood to his feet, looming above you, and he stepped to your side. “You’ve got a cracked rib, haven’t you? What, you think I didn’t notice? You thought I was just going to let you sneak away, and deal with it on your own?”

Very gently, as if you’d break at the slightest touch, the Duke wrapped his arms around you and lifted you to his chest. His cologne and scent enveloped you, and you flinched and softly squealed at the horrid bolt of pain that shot through your lungs at his actions. “Ow—ugh, careful!”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he softly apologised, lips inadvertently brushing against the crown of your head. “You’re alright. I know it hurts. Hang on for a bit, alright?”

You didn’t know where to put your hands, much less yourself. Your mind was racing, blurry, and confused. What is he doing?

Wriothesley turned and made his way out of the alleyway, stepping over the bodies littered around, carefully handling you with great attention to your injured side. The tenderness to his touch sent your thoughts spiralling. What is going on?

“Don’t fall asleep just yet, sweet girl,” he whispered. “Almost there. Thankfully, you were attacked near the Opera Epiclese’s entrance to the Fortress.”

“That’s how you got there so quick?” you breathed, trying not to cry. Wriothesley was so warm.

“Yeah. Here we are. Sigewinne’ll take care of you. Stay with me for a while.”

“Do I have to?” You wanted to.

“I’ll frame you for a crime so you’ll have a real reason to stay,” the Duke joked, and he entered the elevator. “You can have my bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“Why can’t I just sleep in the infirmary? Or in a cell? I can’t just take your bed.”

“Why? Wanna share?” Wriothesley grinned down at you. His dimples. “I won’t refuse. It’ll be nice, won’t it?”

“Damn you.” His flirtatious remarks had begun to distract you from the pain. “You’re making me hate you more.”

“I am, am I?” His voice was low, silky. “What a terrible state of affairs. I couldn’t imagine even trying to do such a thing.”

“Gods, I hate you.” You put your face in your hands to cover your flushed face.

“Sure, sweetheart.” Wriothesley was no fool. His grin widened. “Sure thing.”

ᯓ ALHAITHAM .ᐟ

“Why must you…” The Head Scribe’s hands held a slight tremor as he brought you into his chest. “…Always make me pick up pieces? Of you?”

You could taste blood in your mouth, and you turned your face into his shirt. Warm. “…I lost the ability to keep it all intact…long ago.”

His chest jumped and rumbled with a humourless chuckle. “That much is clear.” Alhaitham pulled you closer, burying one of his hands into your hair, pressing your face into his chest closely. He rested his cheek against the top of your head. After a long moment, he said, “…I never thought I’d spend so much time worrying about someone I supposedly hated. You…you’re always trying to die on me. Even now. Why must you?”

You were battered, beat up—there was a stab wound to your stomach he didn’t know about yet. If there was a feeling to describe the life leaking out of you, slowly but steadily, this was it. But, somehow, you didn’t mind the thought of dying while being held by this man too much. His arms were strong, warm, and the way he was holding you touched you deeply. And you had no answer for him.

Your head lifted and fell with his chest as he sighed. “I never could stand you. You’re so annoying. Like a pesky fly that won’t go away.” Alhaitham caressed your hair tenderly. “I thought that if you were out of sight, you’d be out of mind. Not so, I soon found.”

“These are pretty words to hear as I die,” you tried to joke, as if you weren’t in the fast process of actually bleeding out. “I like you too, Alhaitham.” Approaching death makes one crazy, it seems. “Never thought I’d ever say that.”

“Do you think those are your passing words?” His breath ghosted across your ear. “Do you think I’m going to let you slip away that easily?” “Weren’t you once praying on my downfall?” Your eyes were beginning to slide shut. It was cosy, dying in his arms like this. “What’s brought on such a change of heart, Head Scribe?”

No answer. Just two people, clinging to each other, breathing in sync, as one’s life bled from them. It was a tranquil quiet, this was. The quietude both you and Alhaitham enjoyed.

That was one thing you had in common. So you basked in his arms, peaceful. What a nice way to go, I guess.

“You smell nice,” you sighed into his chest, the loss of blood truly making you delirious and faint. “Like books. And spices. Warm.”

“Let’s get you to the Bimarstan.” Soft lips pressed to your hair. “There’s no point in having you dead.”

“…Maybe.” Maybe it was a bit late. “Maybe.”

ᯓ DR RATIO .ᐟ

“There is only so much idiocy I can take, you know.”

You peeled open your eyes and two sandalled feet met your vision. Raising your head, there Veritas Ratio was—and his expression was one far from hate. His fists were clenched at his sides, trembling, as his chest heaved. His eyes were wide and desperate. “Must I kill you? To rid myself of this—of this torment? Of you?”

“Get it over with, then.” You were on the brink of death, anyway. The gunshot wounds to your shoulder and back didn’t give you much more time left. “Put me out of my misery…” Your head slumped again. “…Please.”

Dr Ratio knelt before you. “You’re dying. Dying. Oh, Aeons, what to do? You cannot die, you hear me? I won’t allow it. No, no, you mustn’t die.”

“Who cares,” you muttered. “I don’t. Can you go? I’d rather not have you nagging in my ear about idiocy and how much of a bother I am to you as I meet my maker. I want my death to be peaceful, not aggravating.”

“Why are you talking so morbidly?” Your state of mind was so foggy, you could barely sense him lifting you up. The shocks of pain from the jostling of your wounds woke you up, however—and you yelped, tears springing to your eyes. Veritas’ vermillion eyes gazed at you deeply. “I said you’re not dying, so that’s that.”

“Thought you hated my company.” Your words were almost incoherent as you panted and calmed yourself down from the horrible pain. “Thought you considered me an idiot.”

“And I still do,” he said plainly. Blue flame began to surround you both. Hold on, is he…teleporting us? Veritas did not take his eyes of you once. “However, you’re tolerable. I don’t want you to die.”

“That’s sweet of you,” was your sarcastic answer. Your head knocked against his shoulder as you laid limp. “I remember when you went on and on about how much of a ‘relief’ it’d be when I kicked the bucket. Finally. You may just get your wish yet.”

“I won’t.” His words were a whisper. “For I don’t want to. That was never a wish. Nothing of the sort.” There was a flash of deep purple, and soft hair and the floral notes of expensive shampoo flooded your senses. He had buried his face into your collar. “Oh, darling, please hold on for me. You’ll be right as rain in no time. Yes? Don’t you want that? No more pain?”

“…No more pain,” you conceded after a moment, nuzzling him. “No more pain.”

“No more pain,” Veritas weakly repeated. “I swear it.”

all rights reserved © kisstrela 2024. do not copy, repost, redistribute, translate, plagiarise or modify my work(s) in any way on any platform. thank you.

[mm-lurking]

Emperor Blade AU brainrot

I'm struggling to finish my Blade wips so have this for today. Inspired by my interest in historical Chinese dramas (forgive me for my limited knowledge), Im writing this at 12am please don't mind me with the grammar mistakes etc thank you WC: 1000 ish Warnings: blade x fem! reader, NOT proofread! --- Emperor Blade who picks you during the wife selection stage. You, a middle-class woman with a clan that is neither too powerful nor weak, just ok. You, who compared to the many beauties with influence and high political power, are just average. But that doesn't matter to him as he calmly picks you from the list of candidates, dumbfounding his advisors and court members. Emperor Blade who only picked a wife because of the pressure his court was putting on him. In his thundering dominant reign of purging corruption and enemies, he had never considered being married even once. Marriage to him was an inconvenience and an unnecessary contract to sign.

Emperor Blade who keeps you at an arm's length, treating you just right so it's not controversial yet keeping you so distant that your only companion is your right handmaid. He doesn't speak much to you, and your conversations are short and out of formality. You barely see much of him as he spends most of his day running the nation and the times he is free he rarely visits you.

Emperor Blade who frankly doesn't care what you do or say, as long as you let him be and don't cause trouble. You're merely a pawn in his eyes, a pawn to get everyone to shut up and let him reign however he wants without interfering, that is -until you're pulled into the games of politics.

Emperor Blade whose eyes are raging with a fire his court members have never seen when a faction decides to take advantage of the awkwardness of your marriage and hurt you. He has never liked innocent people being involved in the deception and web of lies of politics. The anger in his voice followed by the withdrawal of his sword makes everyone present cower with fear as they rush to cease his anger so they can save their own heads.

Emperor Blade who works tirelessly at night to figure out who had dared to poison you so shamelessly without any consequences, his jawline clenched and knuckles white as he looks through all his reports to find the mole within the palace walls. Despite saying he doesn't have time for you before, he finds a way to visit you when you're unconscious in your bed, holding your hand as he looks over your peaceful face. Your touch is comforting yet foreign and despite his initial reservations, he finds himself wanting more.

Emperor Blade who rushes over to your chambers when he's informed that you're awake so he can see you for himself and breathe a sigh of relief. There is a twinkle in his eyes that you have never seen before but in your weak state, you shrug it off as your imagination. He swears to find the ones who have hurt you and promises to keep you safe. The tiny smile he shows you has you flabbergasted for the rest of the day.

Emperor Blade who does not hesitate to execute the perpetrators publicly as a warning for everyone to see, to fear the consequences of what would happen if anyone even thought about hurting his wife, his empress. He makes sure you're not watching so he doesn't subject you to the brutality of his role as the emperor. To him, he does not find the need to scare you with his powers. He does not want you to fear him.

Emperor Blade who is slowly but surely falling in love with you. You find yourself welcoming him into your chambers more and more as he drinks tea and chit chats about his interests with you, something you were confused by at first but now have become accustomed to. He loves how you eagerly listen to him and offer your opinions if asked while making sure he's comfortable in your space.

Emperor Blade, who swore to never fall in love, has his heart beating faster and faster whenever he sees you, his breath hitching in his throat when you pass by him in the halls wearing your beautiful gowns. Your scent is intoxicating and he finds himself addicted to you, unable to get enough of you.

Emperor Blade who asks you to accompany him to the pavilion to admire the moon one day. He asks you to wear your favourite gown and says nothing more, leaving you confused but curious. You comply as you meet him in front of your palace, shyly smiling as he admires you.

Emperor Blade who takes your hand into his own, causing you to gasp as the public display of affection. His grip is firm and unwavering, a sign that he doesn't plan to let go. He dismisses his guards and your maids, leaving only you two alone as you both walk to the pavilion and stare at the night sky. The moon is bright and beautiful today with stars that twinkle in the sky like jewels.

Emperor Blade who pulls you into his arms, lifting ur chin with one hand as he looks into your eyes. "You're beautiful", he murmurs causing you to blush. The faint redness of your cheek makes him chuckle as he draws closer. Your noses are touching and your hearts thumping.

Emperor Blade who before only viewed you as a pawn, an inconvenience and a waste of time, now looks at you endlessly as he flicks his gaze back and forth between your lips and your eyes, asking for silent permission as his grip on your waist tightens and the gap between you two closes.

Emperor Blade who asked you to keep your distance from him now closes the distance between you both with a kiss, a kiss that washes away every painful thing he had said to you before. The winds of the night embrace the both of you at this moment as if it were a sign of acceptance from nature itself, a thumbs up almost.

Emperor Blade, a man of fear, blood and formidable reign had now become a man of affection, love and security. A man who swore to never love and never be married is now a man who is deeply in love with you. As the night continues and the moon illuminates your figures, he promises to cherish you and be your man for the rest of your life. A man whose tenderness, warmth and devotion are reserved for you and only you to see. ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ©mm-lurking 2024 do not copy, steal or reuse my work.