pierrai

[pierrai]

A Collection of Letters II

I believe I have found more random letters this year... I shall post them on my blog in the hopes they reach their intended recipient! I do fear for their life this year though...

[pierrai]

Hi! May I request an Oriel scenario..? I'm a super big fan of those two, and I'd love to read a short fic of Orion jerking off to the thought of Uriel! ^^

I had spaghetti for lunch today.

Dear Anon! I hope you enjoyed your spaghetti! I hope you will enjoy this too! Another not short fic! Sorry for any typos!

Character: Orion Catesby, Uriel (Mentioned) Word Count: 3823 Scenario: Orion Jerking off to the thought of Uriel Warnings: NSFW, mentions of student-teacher dynamic

Orion

The thought of his most-esteemed student hasn't left his mind the whole day. Granted, he never really did, always hidden somewhere in the crevices of Orion's mind, but today's lingering thoughts are more alarming with their intensity than any other.

Of course, his usually organised and steadfast frame of mind has been overwhelmingly tumultuous as of late, and though there was a very obvious reason why, Orion was doing everything in his power to ignore it. It really did seem that he couldn’t even be consistent in his problem-solving; either he was a busy-body who dove headfirst into his problems, solving them right away, or he was complacent and didn’t dare touch them until absolutely necessary, pretending they weren’t really there.

He feels terribly guilty over it. He isn't sure why he hasn’t resigned from his role as a teacher and then turned himself into the authorities. Rationally, that's what he knows he should do; that's what his moral code tells him to do as well. Day by day, the realisation that he's just as cowardly as all the other men who have found themselves in similar positions is a difficult one to swallow. No, 'found' isn't the right word. That made it sound like it wasn't his fault—like he didn't know exactly what he was doing. Language so graciously passive didn’t fit him.

Regardless of his feelings on the matter, he needed to push them out of his mind for today. The tests he's lugged home with him aren’t going to mark themselves, and if he’s going to be so bad a teacher that he let one of his own students seduce him, he should probably at least be a good enough teacher that he marks his tests quickly and efficiently. Once he's eaten a small meal of leftovers, loosened his collar just a bit and rolled up his sleeves, he makes his way to his study and piles the papers on the table, ready to work through them for the rest of the evening.

He decided to move out quite recently, a decision he tells himself is a vie for his independence rather than an opportunity to facilitate more bad behaviour. It's strange living by himself, though he isn't sure whether to call it uncomfortable or not. On one hand, the looming presence of his parents, whether they were physically in the room or not, is a tad lesser here, allowing him to relax just the slightest bit more. On the other hand, sometimes Orion is afraid he might relax too much if they're not there to keep him in check. He does miss his siblings too, for the most part.

The first few tests go by easily enough. He’s glad to find that even in a new study, his ability to concentrate has mostly remained unaffected. Mostly. Those stupid thoughts are still nagging at him, and eventually he decides, despite his usual need for silence, that perhaps some soothing background music isn't such a bad idea. He sets a record onto the antique gramophone he took with him when he moved, adjusting the volume until it suits his preferences. Some might call it old-fashioned, perhaps throw in a remark about only someone like him would own such an outdated device if they ever visited his new study, but nevermind that. No one was likely to ever visit. The gramophone played music just the same as anything modern did. The soothing melodies work for a while, until he additionally decides that maybe a stiff drink also isn’t such a bad idea either. That, at least, calms his nerves substantially more.

When he looks to the next test, his eyes catch sight of a plain, yet all-too-familiar, penmanship, and his barely-restrained thoughts are suddenly bustling to the forefront of his mind again. The name 'Uriel' sits snugly within the top line of the page along with the date, and after flicking through a couple of pages, Orion is at least glad to see that Uriel has kept his doodling to a minimum, only leaving a few idle scribbles off to empty spaces and corners. He's even more relieved not to find another drawing of himself, small or otherwise.

If anyone else had been marking your tests...

But no one else would be, of course, Uriel knew that. Orion knew that Uriel knew that. Shamefully, after consulting his co-workers, he also knew that Uriel's tests for other subjects were as rudimentary as you could get. He wrote neither too much nor too little. Nothing about them stood out apart from how much they conformed to the specific test's standards. 

History was different, however, and Orion seemed to get special treatment through the medium of small doodles and writing flares that boasted both his knowledge of the subject Orion taught and the subject of Orion himself. 

Reading through Uriel's tests sometimes felt like ciphering a code, where the answer was usually something along the lines of 'look at how much attention I've paid you.' If Orion had been particularly worked-up during a private tutoring session of theirs, the subject which they studied during that time was one Uriel was far more likely to pin-point in his written work, all as if to remind Orion what had happened.

Or maybe he truly was becoming paranoid and reading into signs that weren't even there. He had checked his new apartment for hidden cameras.

Regardless of what taunts lie within this test, he begins marking it as he would any other. There aren't many mistakes to correct, once again confirming in Orion's mind that Uriel was perfectly capable of being top of his class for any number of his subjects, he just decided against it. All apart from history, of course.

He can almost hear Uriel's writing right off the page. The more he rereads the lines, the clearer Uriel's voice becomes in his head. On occasion, Orion had students read aloud during class, and Uriel was obviously one of the more eager participants. He never had a reason to say no, but now he wishes he'd found one. Uriel's voice slowly transforms from that of a flat and formal reading voice, to a seductive tone intent on luring Orion in. One whose words are definitely not those of history anymore.

He's about a quarter of the way down the second page before he has to place the test paper down and put his head in his hands. No matter how much he wills it away, the voice keeps coming back, bringing a slew of uncomfortable thoughts along with it.

Much like how he's been unable to so much as look at Uriel at school without feeling overwhelmingly guilty, it now seems he can't even read through his test without having some awful and lewd thought about him. It's like he can feel his breath as he whispers right into his ear, his words departing from the realm of classwork and instead breaching into something more forbidden that Orion both hates yet can't help but be intrigued by.

He runs his hands down his face and lets out a curt sigh, before clearing his throat and picking up his pen again. He could get through this. He just has to read through the test and mark it. He wouldn't allow himself to skim over it either, so biting the bullet is really the best option here. After all of this, he'll take a nice, cold shower and then retire to bed.

Inwardly, he unfairly curses Uriel for putting more effort into his subject. It would be easier if he only had to read through a couple of pages, but Uriel has graciously left him with seven.

His second, third and fourth attempts are about as successful as the first, but he all but forces himself to continue reading until the entire test is littered with small red ticks and capped off by a small comment praising his work. He debates over what to write at first, but he eventually decides it doesn’t matter; Uriel would find it amusing either way. Write a long comment and Uriel would gloat over how Orion had praised him. Leave a short comment and Uriel would tease that he didn't seem to have much to say for such a well-written test. Even though he knows the latter scenario is worse (he dislikes Uriel using that teasing yet all-knowing tone with him), he can't will himself to think of a longer comment.

He places the test upon the completed pile, and it feels like at least one of the massive weights on his shoulders has been lifted.

Lifted, only for another to be put in its place, he finds as he continues his evening marking more tests. The mental image of Uriel simply won’t leave his mind, and he has to force himself to stay focused rather than naturally remaining focused as he always has. He’s never been the type who’s needed to reread things over and over for them to stick, but now he suddenly is, and it’s making it increasingly infuriating when his job is to read lines and lines of sentences that were already difficult to read to begin with, whether that be because of a certain students’ lack of understanding, or because of their poor handwriting.

He feels flushed, and in an attempt to cool himself down a little more, he tugs further at the buttons of his shirt, only to recoil in what might or might not be disgust when the sensation of his own fingers brushing against the bare skin of his chest brings uncomfortable memories to mind. A heavier sigh escapes his lips, and he attempts to banish the thoughts of slender fingers running along the fabric of his clothes instead of his own broader ones, deciding undoing one more button is good enough.

A few more tests join the completed pile. There weren’t many left now, and he’s already decided whatever other work he deliberated doing before going to bed can wait till tomorrow’s lunch break. He just wants to get all of this over with. A few more red ticks, a few more turned pages, a few more stray thoughts he can’t catch in time.

He’d let Uriel sit in his office once while marking tests. Once because all the subsequent times were done so at his behest rather than with his express permission. The teenager seemed to enjoy barging in whenever he pleased, but Orion noticed rather quickly by the soft, smug curve of his lips that he seemed to enjoy more when he was given permission (or simply not forced out) than when he wasn’t. Orion knows such a thing isn’t exactly wholesome in nature; Uriel just likes when he’s weak-willed.

That particular evening hadn’t ended rather productively either. Though he tries not to think of it, Orion’s mind inevitably ends up spiralling down into memories of Uriel attempting to straddle him at his desk chair, and him hurriedly making excuses as to why he wasn’t shoving Uriel away.

He wishes he put as much urgency into stopping Uriel from doing harmful things such as cosying up to and kissing his own teacher as he did care that pushing Uriel hard enough or forcefully restraining him might harm him instead. Of course, then he’d probably end up getting in trouble for manhandling a student, something he’s sure Uriel would leverage in his favour. The more Orion unwillfully thinks about any of this, the more he thinks that every path he might’ve taken is one that would’ve landed him in hot water, but that’s another train of thought he harshly labels as an excuse for his disgusting behaviour. There were surely ways out of this, he just hasn’t tried hard enough, and he should feel all the more ashamed for it.

He doesn’t want to admit so, but he knows part of him enjoys this mess he’s found himself in. It’s something so taboo and outlandish for someone like him that there’s a part of him intrigued by how perverse and out-of-pocket it all is. He shouldn’t feel that way at all—it’s disgusting—but if it isn’t that, why else would he be able to get so aroused by Uriel’s shows of affection. Perhaps part of him loves that someone is controlling him for once, forcing him along on a completely different path he wouldn’t have ever imagined otherwise, even if that path is one of depravity he knows more than anything is wrong.

Another test added to the pile. Another strained sigh huffed past his lips. He feels exhausted. Hot. Disgusting.

Without thinking much about it, he shifts his legs slightly, about to fold one across the other, but the immediate pleasurable sensation engulfing him is enough to get him thinking again. Pushing his chair slightly backwards from his desk and darting his eyes down to his lap, he's more than horrified to see a bulge forming in his pants. He’s not fully erect but he’s erect enough that his skin crawls with even more disgust and self-hatred, not that that would take all that much.

His hand hovers in the air for a moment as if he’s considering doing something, but as soon as the thought is there, he brushes it away, stomach turning that he’s managed to get himself so worked up while marking papers of all things.

He shuffles his chair back under his desk, parting his legs more than he’s usually comfortable with so there is less friction (he is unfortunately more, how to say, well-endowed than he’d like) and grabbing another test that he, a little too enthusiastically, slaps down onto his workspace, flicking it open quickly after. 

He can ignore this.

Though as he marks one test in a measly three minutes and the next in a gruelling twenty-four minutes, he discovers, much to his chagrin, that he very much cannot ignore this. He’s kept his feet planted in the same position, tried willing himself to just not feel the entire lower half of his body, and filled his head with as much senseless trivia on The Battle of Normandy, Operation Barbarossa, Gold Beach (he steers away from thinking about the inaptly titled Battle of the Bulge) so that less of his mind is drawn towards Uriel Uriel Uriel.

Predictably, none of it works, and he finally places his pen down, slouching down in his office chair with a shattered sigh and feeling it creak back willfully with the additional pressure. One of his hands finds its way to his head where he drags his fingers down over his eyes, and the other rests dangerously at his thigh but he’s trying not to think about that.

If Uriel were here, things would be much worse. Orion would probably have reached this flustered state much sooner and then Uriel probably would’ve crawled under his desk and innocently offered to relieve him and before Orion would be able to properly protest, his student’s hands would already be all over him, his skillful fingers undoing the fly of his pants and fishing out his cock before eventually using his mouth instead and—

Orion doesn’t know if he should be more disgusted by what he’s thinking about, or by the fact that all of this has already happened once before. Afterwards, he’d taken Uriel out for some food when the latter complained he hadn’t eaten much that day, likely knowing Orion wanted nothing more than to go and wallow in his own self-pity but was too upright to let a student go hungry, and Uriel just loved to prolong any and all suffering. 

He once again feels boxed in. Like every decision is going to be the wrong one. Perhaps that was just more cowardice—if every decision is the wrong one then what can he really do? Poor him. 

He thinks as much, but his mind still ends up tumbling down to the same solution. Give in.

The tests weren’t going to mark themselves, and with a record as spotless as his, he isn’t about to show up to tomorrow’s class with no grades to give his students. He reminds himself with a sinking feeling in his stomach that if he did, Uriel would probably smile and comment on it later, likely imagining what scenarios could have kept Orion away from his work; just what burdens was he carrying to be distracted from these oh-so-important tests? It’s a poor justification, but Orion uses it anyway as he lets his hand creep closer to the now more defined tent in between his legs.

It’s normal to have urges, he pathetically tells himself. Most men did this often. He rarely did it at all, treating sexual pleasure as one might treat washing the dishes: a chore that had to be done so you could continue on with other things. The few times he pleasured himself had been as clinical as you could get, and he’s never been particularly one way or another on how good it feels. There wasn’t really any feeling behind it at all.

Now it is different. With more experience (which he didn’t want) under his belt, it’s like he’s been opened up to what sexual pleasure is really supposed to feel like. As he fumbles with the button of his pants and unsteadily unzips his fly, he feels infinitely more sensitive than any other time he’s decided to jerk off. There’s a sickening anticipation and excitement swelling in his chest along with desire directed towards somewhere he doesn’t want to think about.

When his hand finally grasps around his shaft, he’s embarrassingly hard, but more embarrassing is the moan that leaves his mouth. He grits his teeth soon after, guilt clutching at his chest and almost making him reconsider and let go, but he presses on anyway. He drags his hand up slowly, then down, then up again, each movement sending more pleasure flooding through his body all the way down to his fingertips. It’s never felt this good before, never felt like it isn’t a chore, and the thought his mind uselessly supplies him with is that he simply wants more.

He leans far enough back in his chair that his chin touches his breastbone, and he closes his eyes as a deep sigh builds in his chest and releases slowly with each small movement he makes. When his hand accidentally reaches high enough that the skin of his palm brushes against his tip, his breathing stutters, and the resulting drag back down brings a smearing of precum with it, lubricating his skin so it’s now more slick. It feels better that way, wet and slippery like saliva, even if he finds it utterly reprehensible how much he’s managed to produce.

The pace of his movement picks up steadily, each pump of his hand getting more needy than the last, and thoughts of Uriel inevitably end up returning. The boy’s face just won’t leave his mind, even worse so, neither will thoughts of all of the illicit activities they’ve shared up until now. The mental image of such things only makes his abdomen clench harder and his hand work quicker, a coil of pressure tightening more and more right at the pit of his stomach. It should make him want to stop. He should be horrified that the most pleasurable feeling his own hand is bringing him, and has ever brought him, is spurred along by the thought of his young student. His eyes, his face, his expression, his mouth, his hands, his body. Uriel Uriel Uriel Uriel.

If he didn’t use his other hand to dig his teeth into, he’s not entirely sure he wouldn’t have moaned Uriel’s name just then. He thinks about those hidden cameras he was so wary about. He knows there aren’t any, but imagine if there were? How shameful it would be to be watched doing something like this. He should stop. There were no cameras, but Uriel would see right through him tomorrow anyway. Ask what he did with his evening wearing that annoyingly smug smile—his lips—watch the way Orion’s expression stiffens and his hands clench up tight—tight, his chest feels tight—say he’s looking rather flustered, could he have been doing something untowards? Orion shouldn’t be shy to say so, it’s natural, everyone does it—what was he thinking about? Not Uriel, not the curve of his lips, not the heat of his mouth, the bob of the Adam’s apple in his throat, the small of his back and the softness of his hips and his waist and his legs, the knowing look in his eyes—

His high smashes against him so hard, he sees stars for a moment. The pressure building at his stomach releases all at once and he bites down hard enough to leave marks along his fingers as the other hand moves stutteringly up and down, up and down, dragging out his orgasm for as long as it’ll last. Liquid spurts out his tip, and he barely remembers to catch it in his palm, some loose straggles of milky white instead staining across his dark pants and underwear. When ecstasy zapping all the way across his body finally begins to ebb away slowly and his shaky breaths slow into more even ones, he sinks himself into his chair with his tired limbs and all of those wonderful feelings come crashing down with the horrendous guilt and regret he now feels instead.

He’d climaxed to the thought of Uriel.

He’s done worse, this he knows, but it’s the knowledge that he’d done this all willingly and by himself that really makes the shame set in. He opens his eyes hazily and glances past the sight of his hand still clasped around his now-dwindling erection, wet with semen, and up at his desk still covered with test papers, the only barrier between the two being the space he’d made when he purposefully pushed his chair back. As if ruining the sanctity of one office isn’t bad enough, now he’s done it to another. He told himself that he was just doing this so he could be on with his paperwork, but now he feels so heavy with guilt, that he barely even wants to get up from his chair. How is he supposed to face Uriel tomorrow? See the face he’s just gotten off to of his own volition?

Another deep sigh leaves his clogged up throat, this time waylaid with regret rather than pleasure. Tomorrow, he tells himself, tomorrow, things change. He could tell Uriel no more, convince him to help him stop this relationship they had, and if all else failed, he could simply turn himself in; someone so disgusting like him didn’t really deserve the luxury of freedom, after all. He could do it. Tomorrow, he tells himself again, finally willing his lead-filled body to move so he can wash himself up and finish grading his tests.

[pierrai]

A scenario (or mini fic, really) for an alastor/jun who fancies someone who's already in a relationship? how would they act? especially if they'd think the partner was unworthy of their crush.

I think this is a first for me... An actual short fic!! Please praise me!! I do hope you enjoy, requester, even though it is shorter than my usual slop.

Character: Alastor Catesby, Jun Word Count: 1188 Scenario: Jealous Al and Jun Warnings: None

Alastor

The man you’re with is barely worth your time.

Alastor knows this, which is why he cares so little when he sees the two of you together. Would he care if he saw you with someone who was your acquaintance at best? Not likely. He probably wouldn’t even think about who that person was, and this man occupied the same plane of (non)existence for Al.

Whenever Al does talk to you, he talks as if you didn’t even have a boyfriend—flirts with you the same way he’d flirt with anyone else he likes. It was fun watching your reactions the most; clearly you enjoy him chatting you up or you wouldn’t blush so easily, but you always have to ruin it by politely chastising him and reminding him that your boyfriend probably wouldn’t like it if he overheard. Al didn’t particularly care if he did overhear, in fact, it would be very convenient if he did. The sooner you two had an argument that led to a breakup, the better.

Not like he needs that to happen though. He isn’t one to wait for permission nor respect the boundaries of an already existing relationship.

His options are dependent on how patient he feels and how foolishly you decide to act. Foolish because who on earth would bother staying with a guy like your so-called boyfriend. He was ugly at best, and at worst, he belonged in the deep, dark depths of the ocean mankind had yet to properly explore. And patient because he could just occupy his time doing something else and hopefully within that time, you’d wisen up a bit and in he'd swoop. Surely, you wouldn’t be so foolish as to wear his patience thin enough that he’s forced to step in himself.

He could show you an infinitely better time than this guy, is what he often thinks. Whether that means taking you out to drink with him in clubs and bars, or whether that means showing you a better time in bed. Sex with this guy must’ve been boring, and the confidence Al usually has over other men is amplified thousand-fold. He has a track record that speaks for itself and experience that allows him to navigate anything. You probably didn’t even know your own preferences (because who would if they were subject to the equivalent of having a plain piece of bread and a glass of water everyday? If that…) and Al would of course be more than happy to help you figure them out.

When Al is ever in the unfortunate position of talking to the resident waste of space himself, he doesn’t bother pulling any punches. Your unfortunately partner isn’t difficult to humiliate nor poke holes in. In Al’s eyes, he’s a singular punching bag in the middle of a packed gym. Even when you are around, he hardly feels the need to let up for your sake, and his jabs are always so apt and precise that, even though you do oh-so-nobly stand up for your little pet, you must have a lingering thought in the back of your mind that Al is right.

With that thought there, perhaps it wouldn’t be too long until you do realise you could have so much better. Al doesn’t have to try too hard until then, just act the way he always did. One way or another, you would find your way to him.

Jun

Jun feels bad for thinking this way, really he does, but he can’t help it. This guy you’re with just can’t compare to you.

He likes to think the best of everyone. When someone wrongs him or anyone else, his first port of call is always to consider what sort of upbringing or mindset might have caused it, and then he’ll work from there. Conflict, communication, resolution. It's often a surprise to those around him how easily he can sympathise with even the most heinous people, but as he'll always tell them: he’s a people person. Very rarely will he find someone he just can’t get along with… but he’s disappointed to find that even he still has his pitfalls in this regard.

So, sort of, just maybe, only a little bit… he can’t stand this guy.

You’re always doing too much for him, and he seems so indifferent by comparison. While you’re so attentive to his moods and his free-time (or lack thereof), he treats you like one might a casual friend. So, of course, he only bothers with you as much as one might a casual friend. Missing dates, shrugging off your problems, blowing you off for his other, better friends; the list went on. To those not paying attention, he might’ve seemed rather inoffensive. Like you said, he always apologises (sometimes), he makes up for missed dates (on occasion) and he really was fun to be around (when in the right mood). With so many caveats, the relationship is only surviving because of your will to keep it alive.

To which Jun guiltily wishes you would just let it die instead.

It isn’t as if such a change in your circumstances would change his at all. Apart from giving him the peace of mind that you weren’t stuck with someone so ill-fit for you and also the benefit of seeing you genuinely happy again (which is obviously very important to him regardless of whether you were single or not) it isn’t as if you not having a boyfriend is suddenly going to mean he’d have a chance instead. He’s far too conscientious of, well, everything, to genuinely consider such a scenario, even if he’s occasionally daydreamed about it.

Jun wishes for your happiness of course, and he’s fine if he never ends up being a part of it, even if he might want to.

Thankfully for him, he’s very good at acting and a certified master at hiding his feelings behind the same reliable smile. Negativity, uncomfortable jealousy, and his inconvenient feelings for you are all buried deep enough to hopefully never see the light of day again, so it’s fitting that he’s often kept awake by them instead, dreading when he’ll have to deal with burying them all over again come morning. He’s been successful so far, and you haven’t noticed a thing when the two of you talk or when you vent about your boyfriend, thank the gods. Jun knows he’s not fit for any long-term relationship. He’s so strict with his feelings that he scarcely ever falls in love either, but he’s getting ahead of himself there. These are just stray feelings, not something so grandiose as love. Your smiles, laughter and dedication (all directed at another man, his mind woefully—and not mention, unwillingly—supplies him with) make his heart skip in a way he’s not so accustomed to dealing with, but it’s definitely not something he’s going to start calling love. Stray feelings. He’ll let them run their course, and like most things, they’ll eventually pass, and his dislike of your boyfriend can solely be out of concern rather than annoyingly stemming from a jealous streak he didn’t even know he had.

[pierrai]

I'm asking for another Al scenario (that could be a sequel to the blowjob fic's protagonist) where the protagonist has a wife and children that Al occasionally sees. If he was somewhat obsessed with the protagonist, how would Al act around them?

There is a world where I do not write almost 4k words of Al essentially jealous that he got left on read. I genuinely don't know where most of these words came from.

Character: Alastor Catesby Word Count: 3811 Scenario: Al interacting with MC's wife and kids. Warnings: Mentioned adultery

Alastor

Today was one of those rare days you got to actually sit and relax with your family.

You weren’t neglectful by any means, just incredibly busy and content that your wife and all her nannies and wetnurses could handle your children and their upbringing just fine on their own. You still saw your kids (your eldest a girl of four and your youngest a boy who’d just reached his first birthday this past spring), it was just unfortunate that most of the time you saw them was right before their bedtime or just after it when they were already asleep. You did love them.

You loved your wife too, in a sense. You didn’t not love her, and that was enough for the both of you, you’d decided. This was just how life was. You couldn’t afford to marry for love when the whims of money and land and family alliances were much more demanding. Perhaps that was why when your wife failed to itch the scratch that was always nagging at you, you sought pleasure and love elsewhere and did so rather easily.

That little bad habit of yours, albeit a bit guiltily, allowed you to enjoy your day off just fine. Having a quaint family was much more enjoyable when you didn’t see them enough to ever get too sick of them.

The weather was nice today. You and your family were in the garden for a change, your son sat atop your wife’s lap in the shade of the gazebo, while your daughter was flitting about the garden with one of her favourite dolls. You think it’s her favourite at least. She must’ve gotten it from you for one of her birthdays. A young servant girl was refilling your glasses with wine (nothing too strong) and bringing out snacks whenever you ran short, though you were trying not to indulge too much in front of your family.

It was set to be a rather peaceful, if not an uneventful day, until you heard your daughter shouting all of a sudden.

“Mama, there’s a man!” Though it wasn’t you that your daughter called out to, nor was it you who she looked to for reassurance, you still lifted your head at the mention of a ‘man’. You weren’t happy with what you saw.

There was Alastor, strolling casually along the stretch of grass that was your garden, thumbs tucked into his pockets, as if he owned the place.

You stand up quickly, and the maid that was pouring you a fresh glass of wine glances at you with an expectant look, likely thinking that you’ll order her to casually slip away and find a guard to escort this intruder off the premises. You wave your hand to dismiss her concerns, accompanied by a sigh that mourns the fact you didn’t do such a thing right away. It would’ve been easier once again to just kick Al out…

Your wife was giving you a concerned and slightly reproachful look. She didn’t know Alastor very well at all beyond the fact that he occasionally would visit for business, and she definitely didn’t know about the… activities you and Alastor got up to, so all she had to go on was the rumours surrounding him. To a woman like her, that meant her overall opinion of him was likely quite negative. While she clutches at your son, you step forward and down out of the gazebo just as Al is within speaking distance.

“Good afternoon,” you say stiffly after clearing your throat. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Alastor?”

“Afternoon,” he responds, a lot more casually, looking over the scene in your garden in a way you recognise as him assessing your goings-on. “I do hate to interrupt… What is this? A garden party?” He looks over at your daughter with a smile she can’t tell is mocking rather than sincere. The poor girl nods her head enthusiastically, and you take a preemptive step closer to her.

“Would you like to join us, sir?” She asks politely, her mother’s lessons about manners clearly sticking, and she looks back briefly at both you and your wife as if asking for permission. Dread settles in your stomach, and you’re sure your wife must be wearing the same barely-concealed distaste on her face as you.

“What a kind offer,” Al laughs, his voice convincingly sweet, yet his eyes thin as he looks up at you. “Afraid I don’t have time, however.” He casts his gaze towards your wife next. “Some important business came up, so although I’m terribly sorry to do so, I hope you can excuse me if I steal your husband away from you for a moment, my lady.” His particular phrasing makes you shudder, as does the tight-lipped expression of your wife who’s likely still resenting the fact Al didn’t even greet her properly.

“Business that couldn’t wait till tomorrow? It’s not often I get to enjoy time with my family.” You push back. Al locks eyes with you and raises his brow for a moment.

“It is rather important, but I suppose if you’d like to do both at once, it might be better for me to accept your lovely daughter’s invitation. This business is nothing your family can’t be privy to as well.” The smile on his face is like that of a snake, and you regret pushing back at all. There was no business; this was just a threat, plain and simple.

Ignoring the uncomfortable feeling that washes over you, you eventually break eye-contact with Al and turn back towards your wife, hoping to find even the slightest bit of understanding in her eyes. There is, predictably, none, and you know you’ll have to endure her complaints later for entertaining someone like Al so much that he felt able to just stroll into your home. It would probably fall on deaf ears if you were to tell her that even if you and Al weren’t business associates, Al would still think himself worthy of barging into anyone’s home unannounced.

With a tight sigh, you turn back to Al.

“Let us be off then.” Your words are strained and you can tell Al can hear it.

“Can’t you at least stay for one more cup of tea, papa? Mama says it rude to not at least offer any to guests,” your daughter says, tugging at your trouser leg and looking up at you with wide, innocent eyes. Her adherence to her mother’s rules might’ve been admirable if not for how poorly timed it was. Your wife must be kicking herself right now. Regardless, your brows crease as you try to think of a way to gently let her down, and unfortunately in that time, Al speaks up before you can.

“Well, it is important business but..” he pretends to trail off, then looking down at your daughter and smiling once again. “A drink before negotiations always makes them go smoother, in my opinion. I would be grateful if your family would indulge me.”

Your daughter looks between you, Al and your wife, and a pregnant silence falls across the garden for a few moments before your wife breaks it.

“Another glass for our guest, Madison.” The maid standing at her side quickly nods her head and rushes off, likely just glad to get away from the thick tension filling the air. Al hums happily as he follows you up the step of the gazebo and sits down onto a chair next to your wife. You daughter sits on his other side, casting him occasional curious glances which he occasionally returns with a cheekier smile. Your daughter had only met Al a few times and likely didn’t remember him very well. It was no wonder, as you made it a point to never keep them in the same vicinity for long. The same went for your son who Al had seen even less of and who he unfortunately decided to focus his attention on.

“Mind if I hold him? I haven’t been able to see much of your son even when I’ve visited. You must be hiding him away from me.” His joke doesn’t make either you or your wife happy, but she pretends to find it amusing and gives him a tight smile. She looks like she’s trying to find an excuse to not hand her son over, which Al also notices quickly. “You don’t have to worry. I know how to handle children. I used to look after my younger siblings.” You weren’t so sure about that. You knew Al had younger siblings, and you’d known him to complain about them on occasion. You always got the impression he hated them.

Regardless, your wife finally does hand over your youngest, her hands lingering a few moments too long as Al hooks his own underneath the baby’s arms and then adjusts them so your son is sat comfortably atop one of his arms while the other rests at his back. Al smiles down at him with something you can’t exactly say is in any way similar to how an adult might look at a baby, that is to say adoringly. Al always looks like he’s plotting something, apparently even when children are involved. He turns to you pointedly.

“He looks just like his father,” he comments smoothly, locking his eyes with yours. You had been told so before by others that your son had your likeness, but when Al says it, it fills you with an uncomfortable feeling of disdain rather than lukewarm pride. Al’s next comment only makes you feel more ill. “Let’s hope he turns out just as hard-working as you as well.” 

The maid returns with a glass not long after, along with some more refreshments, and despite your daughter making mention of ‘tea’, Al instead gratefully and shamelessly drinks a full glass of wine. You can’t find it in yourself to make any conversation, so your wife regrettably finds herself forced to instead, for the sake of politeness. She asks Al about his work, thankfully not anything relating to you, and your daughter occasionally chips in with her own polite and curious questions which Al doesn’t seem to mind answering. He was oddly cordial towards your children, but you’d never heard anything about him ever treating children badly before either. You were simply on edge with him around your children in particular, knowing at any moment, Al could cease his cordiality and say something completely out-of-pocket. The less wine he had in his glass, the more tense you felt knowing you were so close to escaping such an unpleasant scenario.

After what must’ve only been half an hour but what felt like years, Al finally finishes his glass of wine, and you’ve long since finished your own, so you quickly stand to your feet, clearing your throat uncomfortably.

“I think now would be a good time to discuss that important business you came here about,” you say, casting your eyes towards Alastor but not quite looking at him. “I’d like to deal with it as quickly as possible.” The look he throws back is one that makes frustration nag at you. Like he knows he can take all the time in the world and nobody can stop him. Thankfully, he does actually stand up.

“Of course,” he says smoothly. “Thank you for the tea and snacks. I do hope to be invited back sometime.” Your daughter smiles up at him despite him doing nothing to earn such innocent admiration. You know you are not alone in hoping this never happens again, and you resent that your daughter will now probably ask at some point when the nice, blond gentleman will be returning for tea and snacks.

“Of course, my lord, we would be happy to have you,” your wife says, practised as ever. You know she wishes nothing more than to never have Al step in her home ever again.

“My lady.” Al offers your wife a small bow before he turns to leave with you, his hand delicately placed to his chest in a gentlemanly manner. “It was a pleasure seeing you again.” You bite your lip, tilting your head away so no one could see the frustration etched into your features. That conniving, little homewrecker! The nerve he had to march into your estate like he owned the place… You knew he was getting out of hand with his meddling lately, but this was more than you were willing to put up with. You didn’t like the two sides of your life crossing over, but he’d paraded right from one into the other, dragging dirty footprints all across the polished, fragile foundations that held your family together. 

You had more than a few choice words to say to him once you two were finally alone, even more raising right to the roof of your mouth when Al thoughtlessly ruffled the hair of your daughter’s head as he passed her by. There was a reason you’d never introduced your children to him, and he must’ve known that too, only making you more offended that he’d so flagrantly crossed the firm boundary you’d implicitly set.

The walk back across the lawn is too long for your liking. Al doesn’t say a word at your side, but you can feel his eyes flitting to you, and you scarcely need to turn to face him to know he must be smirking.

You don’t stop walking once the two of you are inside and instead quickly pace up the stairs, past a few loitering maids, and down the hallway until you reach your study. You open the door, walk through, and then step aside to let Al enter next, fixing him with a cold glare he easily meets. Once you close the door, it’s like a weight has been simultaneously lifted off of and then placed back onto your shoulders. You take a few steps into the room while Al stands at the door still. You don’t want to sit down and give him the impression you’re making yourself comfortable enough to stay for more than a couple of minutes.

“Did you really have to take us all the way up here?” He complains half-heartedly, pressing his back against the door as you step a few paces away from it. “Not that I mind, I suppose, if you wanted some more privacy.” You can already feel a headache forming.

“Stop that, Al. What do you think you’re doing just strolling into my estate like this?” You try to keep your voice firm, like you’re reprimanding a child. This particular child clearly needed discipline, as he repeatedly insisted on ruining your life. You wanted to say you hated cleaning up other people’s messes, but such a sentiment would be useless in more ways than one.

“You haven’t minded before, where’s the issue now?” Al shoots back casually, and your brow twitches in annoyance.

“You…! You know full-well what the issue is!” True, Al had dropped in without so much as a word before, and you’d only lightly chastised him, but today was different. Today you were spending time with your family and though you have no idea how he figured out that’s what you were doing, he seemingly picked today in particular to show up just to get on your last nerve (of which there seemed to be many).

“I thought I’d come visit a dear friend of mine on his day off. Not my fault he didn’t respond to my correspondence on time. Besides—” he barks out a harsh laugh, “—even if he did it’s not like he’s honoured plans we’ve made before.” You stiffen a little bit at his words, knowing deep down that this was going to come up. You had been ignoring his letters. Perhaps it was silly of you to expect the issue to just put itself on hold for a day or two, and now you were reaping what you’d sown with your inaction. “I thought you’d be glad to see me. Your kids are cute and all but isn’t it boring just sitting around doing nothing but watching them?” 

“What I do with my family is none of your business.” Al takes a few steps towards you, pushing off of the door with his palms and throwing you a mirthful glance.

“Well, you didn’t deny it,” he says amusedly, and you clench your first behind your back.  “And yes, you made that clear. You didn’t even want me to talk to them. You think I’ll taint them or something?”

“I think it’s perfectly reasonable for me to not want you around my children, Alastor.” Al’s expression twitches a little. The way you said his name must’ve struck some kind of nerve, but you don’t know why.

“Your wife must agree with how she was glaring at me,” he groans. “Gods, I don’t know how you put up with such a dour-looking woman. No wonder you’d rather fuck men.” The blunt way he speaks only makes you more tense. You were used to him being this crass, but today when you could turn around and still see your wife and children enjoying the fresh air of the garden outside the window, it felt wrong to hear such words. Al suddenly laughs as if he’s imagined something funny. “Unless she’s the type who’s absolutely miserable in public but is an animal in bed—”

“Don’t talk about my wife like that.” Your words are more stern this time, bordering on outright anger. This doesn’t seem to intimidate Al in the least, as he only shirks closer to you, standing right in front of you with the same coquettish smirk on his face. 

“Why? It’s not like you care, is it?” He says, taking another step forward. You’re not that much taller than him so his face is pretty much level with yours, and you can feel his breath fanning against your face uncomfortably. “If you cared about your wife’s honour and dignity, you wouldn’t be so disloyal to her, would you? No, no, you just don’t like being reminded that she can’t satisfy your appetite, so you had to look elsewhere.” He trails a finger up the inside of your thigh, agonisingly slow, dragging it upwards until he suddenly cups his hand right between your legs. “It’s not like you have to hide that around me. I already get it.” 

“Al—” You want to convince yourself you’re not sure why you haven’t moved to stop him yet.

“If I’m wrong, then why not go back out there with them?” His fingers slowly massage over the fabric of your crotch, grasping just hard enough for an adequately annoying pleasurable sensation to begin building, but not hard enough for it to be in any way satisfying. “Go on. Pick them and leave me. I’ll go and never come back, and you can have your boring wife and your boring kids and live your boring married life signing boring land deeds during the day and having boring sex at night.” You can feel yourself growing hard, embarrassingly, and your breath catches in your throat.

This was becoming incredibly inconvenient for you. Why couldn’t Al have just continued to be how he was before? You enjoyed having friends in high places, but they were difficult to come by and a lesser lord such as yourself needed to keep the ones he had. Al had the added bonus of being quite attractive and particular to your tastes as well. 

Perhaps he was more clued in than you were on your own feelings; you really might go batty if you didn’t have some kind of outlet. You were beginning to wonder where exactly your limit was, but at the same time, you didn’t want to know the answer since it apparently hadn’t been hit yet. There was a very real possibility your day off would be spent with Al rather than your wife and children waiting for you in the garden, and perhaps you ought to be more terrified by that fact.

When you don’t answer quickly enough, Al removes his hand, but his eyes stay on you as if giving you one last chance to answer, and you take it.

“You think I can go back out there in this state?” You say, unsure if you’re provoking Al further or simply grumbling in your exhaustion. Maybe it was both.

“I, for one, would love to see that. What would your beloved wife say if she saw you like that? I imagine she doesn’t see it often, what with how dull she is to look at.” You almost winced at the thought, enough to completely ignore his jab at your wife. It felt like either way, Al won here. He’d already won. You knew he knew he was right, and even if you decided to suddenly kick him out (which you were also sure he knew you wouldn’t do), he got to have the satisfaction of knowing you’d probably never chance upon someone quite like him again. It would be back to the boring same old, same old until you could find some other transactional relationship to rely on, but that took time and that meant withstanding all of your usual duties without any relief.

…You really didn’t feel like doing that.

“What do you want?” Your surrender comes in the form of those four words, squeezed out your throat along with an exhaustive sigh. Al’s victory comes in the form of an even sharper and more satisfied smile.

“I like this relationship we have,” he begins. “I know you do as well so… I’m sure we’re on the same page that ending it would be quite unfortunate.” His words are a threat, but the two of you know his threat is more than just implying he would use his blackmail against you. “Next time I write to you, you won’t ignore it.”

You look up to meet his eyes, gaze both tired and expectant. If you wanted, you could still say no. There’s a world where you ditch Al, explain to your wife that you were foolish and that it—whatever it was—would never happen again, relying on her rigid adherence to her rules and norms to hold your marriage together. Then you would get back on track with your work, put up with whatever interference Al might’ve caused with his meddling, and eventually build back up your comfortable life. Your boring life. Your boring life with your boring wife and your boring kids and your boring job signing boring land deeds by day and having boring sex by night. There is a world where that is your existence.

But as you nod your head and Al’s eyes crease with satisfaction, you realise it’s just not going to be this one.

[pierrai]

may i please request a scenario where the protag is al's affair of sorts... either modern or canon au... she's aware of the fact that he's officially with someone else too BBCHAN

Thank you for the request anon! I have been urged to finish this request above the other ones, so I hope you enjoy! <3 It's not as short as I thought but I suppose by my standards, it is.

Character: Alastor Catesby Word Count: 2285 Scenario: Al having an affair with the protag Warnings: Very Mild NSFW, Cheating

You thought yourself to be a rather good person.

Good in the sense that you'd never really done anything too terrible. You’d gotten up to some mischief in your younger years, such as stealing that poor maid’s clothes as she was washing herself. She had to walk through the hallways wearing a sheet around her body. You thought you’d simply gotten away with it when no one told you off, but the serving staff would often give you dirty looks when they thought you weren’t looking and mutter behind your back. Especially the one maid, whose cold eyes made you shrink in on yourself a little bit. She could not take a joke. It was only your father who didn’t say a word, obviously knowing you meant no harm. Another time, you’d pushed one of the older girls at your birthday party into the mud after she accidentally blew out one of the candles of your cake by simply cheering too loudly. Accident or not, you did think she deserved that. She grew up to be a pretentious bitch anyway.

But none of those things were bad. Not really. Those things happened to people who deserved them and it's not like anyone ever got properly hurt. A bruised knee did not count. You wouldn’t hurt anyone. You were a lovely person really, one that knew what she deserved and what other people deserved.

So taking another woman’s man, especially when said woman was a capricious whore who deserved every bad thing coming her way, wasn’t something you considered bad.

Your father never asked too deeply about your frequent visits to the Catesby Estate, and you preferred it that way. It warmed your heart that your father knew you so well as to not pry. He probably knew anyway. The staff at the estate probably did too. You didn’t care so much. You were infatuated by the second son living there and that was all.

You and Al had met briefly as children, but you didn’t pay him much mind until you both were older, and suddenly the boy you’d heard was a rascal no maid could tame had become a man you decided you wanted to be yours. His family was rich and renowned the continent over, and the man himself had grown to be devilishly handsome and good at charming young maidens such as yourself (though you perhaps weren’t a maiden anymore really). You knew he had an older brother—a handsome one at that—but Alastor was much more interesting and fun. You didn’t want a man who’d tut at you because your top was too low-cut. You wanted a man like Al.

If you were being fair to yourself, you didn’t actually know he was betrothed. He hadn’t mentioned it while his tongue was down your throat and you hadn’t thought to ask when your hands were gripping at the scruff of his collar to pull him closer. It’d just been harmless flirting. Not your fault you were so pretty he wanted to sleep with you.

You only heard about his fiancée after about the third time when he’d offhandedly mentioned that she might come visit soon. He sounded fed up, so you didn’t bother getting offended that the man you’d been casually sleeping around with was only just mentioning an unwanted third-party. He clearly wasn’t into her, and when you snooped around a bit more (you asked your darling father and he asked his butler), you quickly found out why. His family had encouraged the proposal; the woman was from a well-known family with good blood and an even better dowry, but she was shockingly boring. She was pretty too—to blind people perhaps. You did get offended when Al didn’t deny that he had slept with her once or twice.

Not that it mattered in the long-term. You couldn’t care less that you were technically the other woman. In your mind, it wouldn’t take much time before she was the other woman instead. Your Al wasn’t a fool. He wouldn’t let himself get married to someone so dull and boring when there was someone so pretty and fun and perfect already willing to have him instead. He should really count himself lucky.

You spent a lot of time with him nowadays. Mostly you both fooled around, but you began tagging along with him to attend to his business whenever he didn’t brush you off (his affairs would probably bore you, he sometimes said) and tugging him along to parties and such whenever he let you do so. He’d even met your father many times and that was basically the same as him having the blessing to marry you, wasn’t it?

Your feelings had, admittedly, escalated a little bit beyond just a simple crush or lust, but let it be known, you’ve never not gotten something you want, and a man was no different. You’d get him on side. Wrapped around your finger.

“Won’t you stay a bit longer, Al,” you groan his name in a long, drawn-out syllable as you feel him start to shift. He was always the first to leave, and you must’ve developed a knack for knowing exactly what movements precede him getting up. He never stayed as long as you liked him too, always a busy-body.

“Can’t today,” he says as he props himself up onto his elbow, leaning down to peck your head that’s still nestled against the pillow before he’s tugging the sheets off him and standing up. You dislike the slight chill of tepid air the silky sheets allow in as they flutter back across your naked form, but admire the view as Al paces over to his clothes haphazardly strewn across the floor. “Some of us have actual work to do, you know. I can’t stay in bed all day letting daddy’s money sustain me.”

“Mm, but, you don’t have to do work and you could let daddy’s money sustain you if you just asked.” Al tugged on his underwear, then his pants, tightening the draw string as he turned back to you with a show-offish smirk.

“What money is he going to give me that I can’t already get on my own?” You let out a sigh as your fingers grasp the edge of the bedsheets for a moment, considering pulling them up further so you can stay warm and snug, before you instead lazily prop yourself up with a pout.

“Enough for the both of us. I bet you could think of ways to get us some more that doesn’t include having to leave for so long too.” You did wish he’d spend a little bit more time with you. Being with Al was fun, but stupid business engagements and dinner parties were always so annoying. You didn’t properly understand why he insisted on working when you had plenty of wealth between you anyway. He should like a relaxed lifestyle like you did.

“But see, if your father can’t give me money because I’ve already got it, what can he give me?” Al asks as he sweeps his shirt off the ground and shrugs it over his toned shoulders. When he sits down on the edge of the bed to adjust the cuffs of his sleeves and begins lacing his shirt from top to bottom (of course leaving enough slack at the top as he always did) you sit up and curve your body forward so you’re lying on your stomach, a bit closer to him. You rest your chin in the palm of one of your hands, gently lifting your feet and crossing them lazily over each other as you bat your eyes at Al like you’re trying to tempt him.

“My hand in marriage, obviously,” you say as if there weren’t any other answer to think of, leaning your head a bit closer and using your free hand to trace your finger along the side of Al’s arm. “Isn’t that good enough?”

Al gives you that look he usually gives you when it’s clear he wants to say something, but has promptly decided he can’t be bothered saying it after all, and he huffs out a curt sigh of a laugh instead, going back to folding the cuffs of his shirt properly and making sure the nice golden buttons are on show. You grab his hand to stop him, criss-crossing your fingers with his and shuffling yourself even closer, putting your other hand on his thigh.

“Daddy would give up the estate right away if you married into the family. You know he adores you.” Your father adored anyone you did. You could bring any man home and he’d be fine with it, just the way you liked. You had no use for a father that wanted to meddle in your affairs. “He’d give us all the money we need to do anything we want to do too. And if we don’t want to do anything, we could spend all day doing nothing!”

“Sounds dreadfully boring.” His voice comes out a low hum, more teasing than scathing, and you’re quite satisfied when he lets you pull him a bit closer to you, simultaneously propping yourself up so your face can more easily reach his and your hand can latch on to the string of his shirt he’s just finished doing up.

“Then the races!” You beam, tugging harder until you feel the resistance of the fabric coming undone again. “You always know which horse to pick. Daddy would buy you your own too, and then we’d have everyone betting on it! We’d eat all the food we want, go anywhere we want—” You peck his lips, and he catches on quickly enough to open his mouth when you kiss him again, then again, each kiss more passionate than the last, “—go home and fuck anywhere we want too.” You catch your breath a moment in between your idealised, day-dream ramblings and the comforting feeling of Al’s lips locked with yours. You can feel his breath against your mouth. “Doesn’t it sound so wonderful?” You pause your movements for a moment, looking up at him with pleading eyes. The eyes that have always gotten you what you want.

“Yes, wonderful,” he finally says after a silence that’s just a little too long for your liking. He leans in to kiss you again, a bit more slowly this time, and he removes your hand from his shirt so you can stop tugging at it, then runs his own across your cheek, alongside your neck and then it’s gone again as he breaks the kiss. “But, you know I hate staying in the same place for too long.” 

He stands up again, gaze lingering across your naked form with a smug smile before he’s focusing on lacing up his shirt again. Your puppy-eyed expression quickly turns into a grumpy pout. Turns out Al was a fool. Only a fool would turn down the opportunity to ravage a beautiful woman like you again when she was practically inviting him to do so.

“Hm!” You huff, kicking your legs a bit more aggressively before flopping yourself back onto the top end of the bed where the pillows are. “You attend to your business then. I want to sleep some more.” You tuck yourself back in the velvety blankets, but they feel a touch less warm than before no matter how tightly you wrap them around you. Al laughs dryly, gazing at you in the mirror of his dresser as he combs his fingers through his hair. He was annoyingly lucky in the sense that he never had to do much to his hair. It always seemed to stick to the same style.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” he comments, and you roll your eyes, turning away from him and burying your head in the pillow for a moment.

“Oh, don’t tell me. She’s coming over to visit. I heard your maids talking. Your family is hosting a dinner?” You turn back just as quick, thinning your eyes into a glare. “You didn’t think to invite me.”

“Not at all,” he replies easily, now having moved on to dabbing his neck with cologne. You roll back over to glare and pout and complain at him more, but he speaks up before you can. “See, if I get bored of entertaining guests, I want to come back to my room for some entertainment of my own.” You’re quiet for another moment, and the girlish satisfaction in your chest is hard to ignore even if you’re still a bit irked. Just a bit.

“I do hope your betrothed finds it prudent to come and follow you,” you say back snidely, but your displeasure isn’t all too strong now. You don’t so much mind staying in Al’s bed, wrapped in his blankets like a gift just waiting to be opened. “Sorry, did I say ‘do’? I meant I don’t.” You don’t hate and actually very much love the idea of Al’s betrothed bitch seeing her soon-to-be husband fucking another woman. Perhaps you’ll moan a bit more loudly tonight. It would be more than funny if even the guests downstairs could hear you.

Al doesn’t say anything back, but the smirk on his face is definitely an amused one; just more proof that he didn’t give a rat’s ass about his stupid fiancée. He leaves with a drawn out bye and doesn’t lock the door behind him. You comfortably tuck yourself back into his bedsheets, curling them around yourself and shuffling closer to the warmth he’s left behind. 

He might’ve not agreed this time, but you didn’t give up so easily. You always got what you wanted, after all.

[pierrai]

HELLO MY FRIEND. I have come back from space just to send you this request. Human! Haine/Protag/Alastor threesome would be absolutely appreciated... Bonus points if Alastor thinks that his relationship with the protagonist is more important to them than the one they have with Haine.

I hit a road block with this request for a while, but suddenly, I felt inspiration!! I feel bad for Haine, and I think we should kill Al! The fact that I wrote around 6.5K words for this is proof that no god exists and I don't know how to be succinct. Sigh.

Character: Alastor Catesby, Haine Word Count: 6503 Scenario: Human! Haine, Alastor and Protag threesome. Warnings: NSFW, the stealing of Haine's virginities (lol)

The tavern was bustling and busy but not nearly at the peak of its liveliness yet. The clock was ticking towards midnight and with each minute that passed by and each glass of alcohol downed, the night was only going to get rowdier. You somehow found yourself in the dead centre of the room, sitting at a table on what might've been your second glass of rum. Your tablemates were passing around anecdotes, only occasionally looking towards you when you added the odd passing remark, but you were having fun simply listening to the increasing chaos.

The evening would probably go on for longer than this, and though you were taking it slow right now, you knew you'd very likely end up blackout drunk by the end. Alastor hadn't been around to visit your table yet, but when he did, that'd be it. The two of you would perpetually egg each other on with more booze like the concept of restraint simply didn't exist.

For now, however, that wasn't the case. Gazing around the room, you could spy Al tucked away in a booth with only a couple other members of the gang. Usually, he'd be at the pub counter or more towards the centre of the room with you, but this was one of those rare nights Haine had begrudgingly come out drinking with the rest of you, so Al had been oh-so-kindly keeping him company. You can only chuckle at the sight of a sober Haine looking more miserable than you'd ever seen him, while Alastor next to him banters back and forth with the other gang members, downing shot after shot.

Perhaps Haine would appreciate your company instead. While Al was always quick to join in with the festive atmosphere, you could at least still phase back to talking calmly and reasonably when Haine was around. Over the time you'd known him, you reasoned that he must've liked you a little bit. At the very least, he preferred your company above others. If Haine ever had to defer to anyone, his first choice after Al was usually you. You had the added bonus of being slightly less of a tease, but you were definitely enough of one that he may have developed a small crush after all of your 'accidental' intimacy. Your ego was certainly happy for such a development, even if your moral compass took issue. It's not like you were going to take it that far though.

A couple of times, you noticed Haine sparing you a glance every now and then. Whether he wanted to come and chat to you and just hadn't properly summoned up the courage (or the heart to ditch Al; he was adorably loyal, you'd discovered) or whether he was fine sat where he was and just wanted to admire the view of you from a distance, you were happy either way. You pretended not to notice, but this time when you gleamed his eyes wandering towards you, you purposefully caught them with your own.

He was quick to dart his eyes back down to the table. His cheeks were tinted red, and if not for his aversion to alcohol, he might’ve had the excuse that he'd been drinking. Your lips curved into a smile as you suppressed a bout of laughter, especially when Haine propped his elbow against the table and rested his cheek in his palm to cover up his embarrassment. Al glanced back at his boothmate just in time to catch his adolescent abashment, then looked up to meet your gaze instead.

And an idea suddenly struck you. You gave him an innocent smile and then turned your attention back to your own seatmates, continuing to chat and drink and make merry like nothing had happened.

It didn't take that long (like you thought it wouldn't), but Al eventually found himself chatting up a stranger rather than sitting with Haine. You waited to see if he would instead hover over to you, but perhaps he didn't want to interrupt the banter you already had going on with your drinking buddies. Doing the hard work for him, you eventually saddled over and sat yourself next to him just as it looked like he was about to leave.

Once again, he appreciated your company, quickly becoming less rigid and stiff-looking and instead finally relaxing a little bit. Despite being on your third drink by now, you held a decent conversation between the two of you. It might've been the latest you'd seen Haine stay out at night. He was definitely a diligent early-to-bed, early-to-rise type.

As the evening progressed into night and the tavern naturally became more lively and loud, you huddled yourself up closer to Haine. At first it was passably innocent. You'd brush your elbow against his or shift your legs beneath the table so they'd rest closer to him. He politely didn't react, only sparing you the shortest of glances before promptly, pretending that nothing had happened. Though he wasn't afraid to speak his mind in other matters, when it came to intimacy, he was satisfyingly docile.

Eventually, you were practically leaning against him, chin almost perched against his once-again incredibly stiff shoulder, while your hand rested halfway up his thigh. Whenever someone would tell a joke you found particularly funny, you'd lean further towards him with a tipsy laugh and tighten your grip on his leg as if it helped you steady yourself. Though this made him especially flustered, he'd only protest with the mildest of grumblings. He liked this more than he disliked it, and you knew that. The poor guy really did have a crush.

Perhaps it was a little bit cruel of you to tease someone as innocent as Haine, but if he got upset, you could always blame it on the alcohol. It's not like he was underage or anything either, just inexperienced, which only made you more eager to tease him. However, you'd be lying if you said your interest was only in Haine. Really you'd be lying if you said your primary interest lay with Haine at all.

Every so often during a lull in the conversation he was having with whoever his new drinking buddy was, Alastor would glance back at the two of you cosied up to each other (or rather you cosied up to Haine), and you'd find yourself coquettishly smirking at him. He'd smirk back, but the way his eyes thinned and the corners of his lips tightened gave you a very satisfying kick. This was fun, and you wanted to take it further.

You suddenly ran your hand further up Haine's thigh so quickly that he finally gasped and grabbed your wrist before it could reach between his legs. He met your gaze desperately.

"What are you doing?" He hissed out, and you innocently raised your eyebrows.

"Hm? What do you mean?" Was your nonchalant response, one that Haine stammered around when he tried to reply.

"A-All night you've been—I mean... Why are you—" When all three of his attempts to speak promptly failed, he dipped his head slightly and sighed out a curt breath before reaching a more discouraging conclusion. "You're too drunk," he muttered dismissively. "Maybe it'd be better if we went back."

His words make you grin. Poor, poor Haine. He really was adorable; you feel like some kind of sadist getting such a kick out of him. You mourned for the poor boy's self-esteem too. He only thought you were being so flirtatious with him because you were shit-faced drunk. Not like the truth would've made him feel much better though.

"Oh, Haine~" you cooed, leaning your weight completely against him. "You want to take me home? Scandalous! I didn't think you had it in you!" Accompanying your words was a near-elated burst of laughter. You knew Haine wasn't the type to take advantage of you like that. He really did just want to take you home and make sure you were okay (though you liked the idea that he also wanted to keep you from sleeping with someone else in your drunk state; could Haine ever get jealous? It was cute to imagine).

"What? N-No!" You laughed again at his flat-out denial, tracing your finger up and down his arm.

"You're so sweet, Haine," you hummed. "I do feel quite tired... Maybe it would be better if we left early." Despite still being tense from how close you were to him, you could feel his body relax slightly with relief, and he nodded along to your affirmations.

You made sure to continue clinging to him as the two of you left, but not before loudly announcing your departure to your friends still sat at the table you'd started the night at. Haine didn't seem comfortable with so many eyes suddenly turning to the sight of the two of you, but it was only one pair you were specifically interested in, and you refused to meet them as you finally turned to leave.

The walk back was more calm. Most people were indoors sleeping or indoors drinking, so the only noise that could be heard were muffled cheers or the footsteps of stragglers still pacing around the murky streets. You made light conversation with Haine, holding onto his arm, and since he likely assumed you were drunk, he gave clipped replies and kept his eyes cast to the floor so he wouldn't have to think of the consistent embarrassment he was subjected to with you so close.

When you eventually did reach the sleeping quarters, the conversation had dwindled off into a comfortable silence on your end and likely a more uncomfortable one on Haine's end. Haine stopped just as he'd passed through the doorway to your room (you had your own, courtesy of Al).

"You'll manage from here, right?" He said quietly, though with how empty the building was, you had no problems hearing him. You could tell how eager he was to turn-tail and run as soon as he was sure you were in bed and settled for a long, drunken sleep.

"Won't you walk me to bed at least? I feel reeaally dizzy," you giggle. Mercifully, you didn't ask him to strip you down and change you into your night clothes instead, and he bit his lip and then pressed it into a firm line before walking you over to your bed, still allowing your weight to lean against him.

Upon reaching the bed, you take the chance to suddenly swing your weight to one side, and the resulting catastrophe dragged a shocked yelp from Haine's throat as he toppled over the edge of your mattress and landed squarely in the centre of your bed with you comfortably straddling his waist.

The following silence was so heavy, you could hear a pin drop until you broke it.

"Oops..." It was clear you didn't do anything accidentally, and although you were sure Haine knew that as well, he couldn't exactly form any words to accuse you of anything right now. His face was the very picture of red. His eyes were locked onto you, seemingly unable to look away, and his hands were frozen at his sides, just inches from where your legs pinned him down.

You shuffled your weight slightly, feeling the slightest amount of friction of your bodies rubbing together where they were connected. How long would it take him to get hard?

"Actually, Haine..." Your voice was low and sultry, eyes half-lidded. Haine's chest rose in a sharp intake of breath. "Will you stay with me tonight instead?"

Your question seemed to restore some sense of clarity back to him, as he let out a shaky sigh.

"No... No, you're just—" he shook his head, attempting to move and only half-succeeding. "You're just really drunk and—"

"Who said I was drunk?" You asked with a laugh, leaning forward and draping your arms over Haine's shoulders as he shuffled underneath you to sit up. His whole body froze up again, and you were sure you could feel a stiffness forming beneath his pants. "Gosh Haine, you can tell you haven't drank before. I didn't drink that much. Sure, I might be tipsy, but it takes a lot more than a couple glasses to get me drunk." You'd say you were dancing the line between tipsy and drunk right now, but Haine didn't need to know that. Up until a point, you were a rather comprehensive drunk.

"Y...You're lying," he hissed back, still trying to recover from how flustered he was at your close proximity. "Please just get off me already. I only brought you back so you could go to bed. You're clearly wasted."

"Am not," you shot back. "And is that really all you brought me back for? Didn't have anything else in mind, Haine?" You snicker as you leant your head a bit closer. Definitely close enough to kiss him. "You didn't think about taking advantage of me?"

"What?! No!" With how quickly he'd denied it, you truly do believe that he'd never do anything to harm you while drunk; he sounded all but horrified by the idea, but you were sure you'd at least conjured some dirty images in his mind since you could definitely feel his hard-on through his pants now.

"That's a shame... I wouldn't have minded if it were you," you mused. "Not that it matters anyway since I'm still not drunk." You shifted your weight slightly, not missing how Haine's jaw clenched slightly, and decided to speed things along. "Have you ever kissed anyone, Haine?"

"What…?" He was immediately thrown for a loop, of course, but you persisted.

"Are you sure you're not drunk?" You teased. "I asked if you've ever kissed anyone."

"I don't see how..." He began, casting his heated gaze to the side before giving up his train of thought. "Can you just get off me already?"

"Answer me first." If it was anyone else, such repeated pushback would probably turn you off completely, but this was Haine, and Haine was definitely more than reserved. He let out a huff like the air had been squeezed from chest.

"No, I haven't." A smirk graced your lips.

"Wanna try?" If Haine wasn't completely stunned before, he certainly was now, mouth opening and closing again before opening one more time so he can claw out a few more words of absolute bewilderment.

"W-Why would I want to do that?" Though he managed not to stutter his way through his question, his voice was anything but steady. You hum out an amused laugh, shifting your hips again just slightly.

"I mean... you're obviously turned on, and since we're already alone together... and it's late... and we're in such a compromising position..." You cast your eyes to different corners of the room with each reason listed, before finally bringing them back to Haine with a suggestive smile. "I figured kissing would be the first of many things we could do. I was being considerate enough to take things slow with you."

Considerate was not the right word to use, but you needn't mention it. Haine paused for a good few long seconds before he could think of what to respond with.

"You know I don't... sleep around for fun or anything, right?" he said, voice rising slightly in pitch the more he seemed to waver. You were so close to cracking him, and though that wasn't what you were really doing this for, you did feel the slightest bit pleased with your accomplishment. You also found it terribly funny how quick he was to ignore any mention of his arousal, though it was obvious enough you were sure even he had long since noticed it.

"You should try it then. If two people like each other, then where's the harm in fooling around a bit for fun?" Haine bristled at the mention of 'like' but fell silent otherwise. "Unless you're saving yourself for marriage or something like that."

"N...Not really." Comforting to know. Though you didn't entirely peg Haine as the stuffy type to wait till marriage before he had sex, you could definitely imagine him having some innocent, romanticised fantasy of waiting for the right person to come along to steal his virtue. Someone kind and considerate. Someone not like you.

"Then would it be so bad if your firsts were with me?" Your voice was barely a whisper now, the gap between your and Haine's lips being little more than a centimetre. When he made no more attempts to back away, you took it as good as you'd get in terms of consent. He was taller than you anyway. If he wanted to, he could just overpower you. The fact that he hadn't yet just showed to you how much he wanted things to go further, and with those justifications in mind, you finally pressed your lips against his.

You did have to remind yourself that he was entirely a virgin; no sex, no kisses, no nothing. You couldn't escalate things too quickly, so the first kiss you gave him was as barebones basic as it could get—a gentle peck. Haine was so tense that you couldn't help smiling against his lips, even more so when you feel and hear the sharp and sudden exhale through his nose with him likely forgetting to breathe.

You parted briefly, then locked your lips together again, melding your body against his as this time you opened your mouth slightly and guided him to do the same thing. Being entirely inexperienced, it was easy to dive your tongue in with little resistance, and the small whine escaping up from the back of Haine's throat was satisfying to listen to. As far as first kisses went, you reckoned you were a rather good first experience to have.

The longer your make-out session continued, Haine's hands eventually and hesitantly found their way to your waist, just hesitant enough that you had an excuse to keep your movements slow and sensual rather than fast-paced. Your tongue slithered its way back into his mouth after a small pause to breathe, while your arms wrapped firmly around his neck. Since your hands weren't free, you instead ground your hips down onto Haine's crotch, purposefully trying to press against the tent that had formed in his pants. While he was trying not to moan into the kiss, you were simply trying not to smile more. This boy was seriously such a virgin.

"Oh? You two didn't even have the decency to lock the door? Anyone could walk in."

About time.

Haine all but froze up at the sound of Al's voice, drawing away from you so quickly, you were lucky you didn't bite your tongue or his. By contrast, you were perfectly calm, keeping your arms hooked around Haine's neck as you turned your head back with a smug, nonchalant smirk, hoping the string of saliva still connecting yours and Haine's mouth was visible even in the poor lighting of the darkened room.

"Hey, Al. Done drinking already?" You purred. "Thought you usually stayed out all night?"

"Thought I'd come back early tonight," came Al's snappy reply as he sauntered around the bed frame so he could sit on the side of the bed. Haine beneath you shifted uncomfortably, likely wanting to escape, but he couldn't move much with your weight pressed against him. The poor boy probably thought you were finished with him now.

"Well, we're a bit busy, as you can see, so why not go back? I'm sure the gang misses you." You tightened your arms around Haine's neck again and turned your head back to peck at his lips.

"H-Hey!" You promptly ignored his protests, taking advantage of the way he leant back to kiss down his jaw and neck instead, deciding to escalate the intensity of your actions with your new audience member. Al huffed slightly, standing up again and moving around to the other side of the bed where Haine was instead. By the time he'd sat down, you were already tugging Haine's shirt up his chest and peppering kisses against his skin. He had a few scars littered there, but you weren't about to comment on it nor think too much about how he'd gotten them.

"Al—"

"I'm hurt, Haine," Al hummed with faux dejection before the other could say much at all, leaning towards Haine who couldn't decide whether he should pay attention to his boss mere centimetres away from his face, or you who was beginning to creep your hand towards the erection between his legs. "Here I thought you liked me more. The two of us have been through a lot together, haven't we?" He glanced down briefly, and you, of course, met his duplicitous eyes with your own amused gaze. "This no-good slut will sleep with anyone." You almost snort at the hypocrisy.

Haine was at a loss for words, so you filled the silence for him instead, pausing your chaste kisses against his pale skin.

"Says you. Haine actually asked me to come back with him himself," you smirked, not missing Haine's expression once again changing to one of stunned exasperation. He opened his mouth to object, but Al slung his arm around his shoulders before he could get out a single word.

"Wow," he drawled. "You must've grown up while I wasn't looking. Very forward of you, but I'm still offended you didn't ask me home first. I wouldn't have said no." You rolled your eyes, but take the opportunity to continue pawing between Haine's legs while he was distracted by Al's flirting. His cheeks were far past red now.

"You—" he began, suddenly sucking in a breath when your palm brushed right over his cock. You tugged at the buttons of his pants, and Haine darted his eyes back to you. "Why are you still doing that?!"

"Just ignore that drunkard," you huffed with a smile, resuming your kisses along Haine's chest and leaving a few nice marks at his collarbone.

"Haine, you're a virgin, aren't you?" Al asked, ignoring your jab, then not giving Haine a chance to answer before continuing. "You should at least have someone around to give you pointers. Since I'm so nice and so experienced, I think I'll stay and watch. Make sure you get the most out of it, you know?" Although he was talking to Haine, his gaze was pointedly directed towards you, and you smirked as you finally unbutton far down enough for your hand to slip into Haine's pants.

"S-Stop, seriously," Haine piped up again, briefly looking back at you once your hand brushed against his bare cock before he couldn't quite decide where he wanted his eyes to land—you or Al. He eventually picked both, darting his eyes back and forth multiple times. "I-I thought... Is this some kind of joke you two are in on? It's not funny." With how uncertain he sounded, you really did almost feel bad. Almost.

"It's not a joke. It's just fun. What's wrong with that?" With your earlier sentiments echoed once again, the ensuing silence from Haine was one you were definitely pleased with. He admired both you and Al; it wouldn’t have been a stretch to say he might have had a small crush on both of you, and though you knew he wouldn’t have ever acted upon it, he could definitely be pushed into letting something like this happen to him instead. It was just harmless fun after all.

Shuffling yourself further down the bed, you crouched down so your face was hovering just above Haine’s waist and then tugged his pants down at the front so his cock finally sprang out of his underwear. The tip was already wet, and when you grabbed onto his shaft and leant your head down so your breath fanned against him, you felt him twitch. You laughed, deciding you didn’t want to waste much more time wetting his cock so he could eventually put it inside of you, and so you took it into your mouth.

The taste was familiarly salty, and the sensation of your mouth being filled only took a few seconds to properly get used to. Vaguely, you thought that Haine might’ve been about as big as Al, if not just the slightest bit bigger, something you would definitely comment on later in the hopes of provoking him further once you and Al were alone.

“You must be desperate to please, since you’re using your mouth so eagerly,” Al commented snidely, and though your mouth was clearly too full to jab back at him, you threw him a half-hearted glare and rubbed your tongue more aggressively against the underside of Haine’s shaft. Haine reacted with a barely stifled moan, his hand raised to his mouth so he could keep himself quiet. When you met Al’s eyes once again, this time your expression was smug.

For a brief moment, you returned to focusing on Haine, bobbing your head up and down a few times slowly and really dragging out as many nice sounds from him as you could, but when he suddenly sounded more muffled, you cast your eyes back up to look at him and was not all that surprised to see Al had roughly grabbed his chin so he could kiss him instead. While your kisses were chaste and soft, Al was much more aggressive and dominant. Poor Haine looked like he was being overwhelmed, but he wasn’t pushing away and his cock only seemed to get harder the more the three of you delved into debauchery.

His moans were being swallowed up, only escaping in the gaps between his and Al’s mouths along with the wet sound of their kissing. The sight was a turn on, maybe because you were thinking more about Al kissing you instead, but the thought of the three of you messing around was just as arousing anyway. You were getting slightly more impatient to hurry things along, so you licked up the full length of Haine’s cock before popping it out your mouth, leaving a mix of saliva and precum beaded at his tip.

Haine briefly managed to notice the sudden absence of your mouth, casting his eyes to the side whilst Al continued to monopolise his own. When he tried to pull away, Al only switched to his throat and began lightly biting at a patch of skin until it was red. Haine's panicked eyes followed you as you loosened the drawstring at your waist and tugged your shirt upwards so you could loosen your pants even more. 

"Getting onto the main event already?" Al asked, finally turning his attention to you again, and you were sure he'd realised before Haine did what exactly you were doing. You spared him an amused look as you kicked off your underwear, and then leaned backwards so your elbows propped you up on the bed. Haine was looking at you like you'd grown another head. 

"What… What am I supposed to do?" Al laughed, his head almost perched on Haine's shoulder. 

"Stick it in, obviously," he said. Haine sighed out a shaky breath, looking at you as if to ask if that was really okay. 

"Go on," you cooed before he could actually ask, but your reassurance seemed to unnerve him even more as he looked down at the sight of you offering yourself up to him like a tasty meal, and then even further down to between your legs where he was supposed to 'stick it in', as Al had so eloquently put it. 

"Yeah, go on, Haine," Al repeated in an equally sultry tone, and when Haine only hesitated further, Al slapped him on the back so he was sent stumbling forward and even closer to you. “Unless you want me to do it instead. I don’t mind.” Perhaps he was even hoping for that to happen, you hoped. 

Haine only had the strength to throw him a discouraging glare before his attention was instead drawn back to you and his sudden proximity to you. You thought for a moment he might back out, but after a few seconds of hesitantly doing nothing, he reached his hand between his legs in an attempt to position himself correctly. After another moment, you felt something prodding against you, and finally, your breath hitched when Haine pushed himself inside of you at an agonizingly slow pace. You had to remind yourself (again) that he was inexperienced. This probably felt insanely good to him, while for you, you wanted something more fast-paced. Though your eyes should have been on the man about to fuck you, you cast them towards the man sat behind him instead and bit your lip.

“Feel good?” Al asked, leaning a bit closer.

“Tight…” Haine rasped after a beat, and continued pushing forward until he was properly inside of you. You let out a moan, and Al thinned his eyes, his question sufficiently answered. Though it wasn’t obvious to most, you could tell you’d irked him. It was funny and exactly what you’d wanted to do.

When Haine didn’t immediately move, you instead impatiently ground your hips against him, forcing a few more moans to slip past his lips. He looked at you as if begging you to slow down, but it wasn’t as if he wasn’t enjoying it, so you saw no reason to stop. You knew exactly what movements to move your hips in to elicit the most pleasure from Haine, and it had the added bonus of making Al even more uptight.

“You… can move,” you added with a strained moan, and Haine’s brow creased before he gently placed his hands at your hips and pulled out further, then back in. It was slow, but it still felt good even if it wasn’t what you were used to.

"I could do better," Al snorted, his half-lidded eyes casting over where Haine was hilted inside you. You looked up at him, a coquettish smirk on your lips.

"Y...Yeah?" You said back breathily. "Too bad. I'm occupied." He brought his gaze back up to meet yours, smirking.

"Too bad that’s not what I meant."

You paused for a moment, your brow raising in confusion as Al stood up and then shuffled himself onto the bed completely. Haine involuntarily gasped when he was shoved forward further, and you instead moaned when the additional weight of his body caused his cock to further grind against your insides. After your mind had fuzzily registered enough pleasure, you gazed at the sight of Haine now pinning you down onto the bed while Al loomed behind him;

Surely, he wasn't going to...?

"Al—Why did you..." Haine began breathlessly, turning his head back as he tried to ignore how close his face was to your own now so he could look back at Al instead. His hands were pinned on either side of your body essentially trapping you in, but you found your new position more amusing than bothersome. Haine was taller than both you and Al, so having him trapped between you both like some helpless creature was funny.

"You don't mind, right Haine?" Al said, running his hands along Haine waist before hooking his fingers at his already-loosened pants so he could tug them further down his legs. You let out a low rumble of a laugh when you heard Haine's breath catch in his throat. What a night this was turning out to be. "You've already lost one of your virginities tonight, why not lose another? I mean, you do like me as well, don't you?" He hummed, casting a sharpened glance at you as he did so.

"Y-You're not serious, are you?" Haine stuttered out. You didn’t know if it was from panic or excitement, but you felt him throb inside you and had to bite your lip so you didn’t moan any further. "Wait, Al—"

"It was getting boring just watching, so I think I'll join in too." Unlike you, Al was quick but still very skillful. He stuck two of his fingers in his mouth, wetting them adequately before bringing them between Haine's legs and prodding his wet fingertips against Haine's asshole. Another throb, and you had to bite your lip harder.

Al's fingers deftly worked their way deeper until he was just about knuckle-deep. Haine was more shamelessly burying his head against the crook of your neck, probably too focused on the new strange sensations assaulting him rather than thinking about his dignity. He only tilted his head slightly to peer back once Al took his fingers back out and replaced them with something larger, and Haine was once again biting his lip and pressing himself against you to cope with the sensation of being filled up from behind.

Accompanying Haine’s petered moans and gasps was Al’s own satisfied sigh, and he seemed to have the same thought in mind when he locked eyes with you upon finally hilting himself inside of Haine. You let out a breathy laugh, barely audible, bringing your hands to rest across Haine’s shoulders as some small form of comfort. His first time having sex and he got to experience both ways of doing it; it must’ve been a lot for someone like him.

Al had at least enough mercy to give Haine a few seconds to adjust, but not enough to give him any longer, as it didn’t take him all that long to begin slowly thrusting his hips back and forth until he eventually found a steady pace. He must have found a rather pleasurable spot right away, as Haine suddenly let out a few uncontrollable whines of pleasure and gripped the bed sheets tightly with his shaky fingers.

“W-Wait—I’ll—” You knew what he was trying to warn you off, but you didn’t care and neither did Al as he only increased the pace at which his hips were moving. He threw you another smug look as if to imply that Haine’s impending orgasm was thanks to him, but you’d argue that you were doing most of the work in making him feel good instead; Al was just what tipped him over the edge. Regardless, you weren’t nearing any sort of climax, and neither was Al, so poor Haine would be in for an even longer ride. You weren’t surprised he’d come so early. It was his first time and he was getting the full experience. Haine’s breaths became shorter and sharper until he let out a final broken moan and his whole body tensed up atop of you. You brushed your hands across his back, simultaneously leaning your head to the side so you could kiss his neck and leave a nice hickey next to the one Al had left. Not too long after, you could feel him filling you up even more.

Unfortunately for Haine (and fortunately for you and Al who still had yet to come) neither of you planned on stopping, so when Al’s thrusts continued at a steady pace, Haine couldn’t do much but let it happen. You were sort of impressed he was still hard, but perhaps you’d simply underestimated his stamina due to how easily he was letting you and Al do whatever you wanted to him.

Haine felt good, his length filling you to the brim and consistently rubbing at just the right spots, but the only reason he was hitting those spots at all was down to Al's skilful thrusts from just behind, giving enough momentum for Haine to move back and forth. Haine was too inexperienced (and likely too overwhelmed), able to do little more than hazily lie against you and occasionally attempt to weakly jerk his own hips forward. Alastor, on the other hand, knew what he was doing.

You really did quite adore the soft moans coming from Haine's mouth, the way his chest stuttered up and down with shaky breaths, the throbbing of his inexperienced and sensitive cock inside of you, but you know you'd prefer much more if it were Al fucking you raw instead.

When you started to feel your own orgasm building up and tightening like a coil at the pit of your stomach, Al was quick to notice. He angled his hips just right so that both you and Haine ended up gasping in unison, then smirked down at you. He was oh-so-proud of himself; he was essentially fucking both of you, and he was certainly fucking you closer to your own climax.You chest heaved, with each moan becoming less and less restrained, but you kept your eyes locked with Al’s as you watched his brows knit together with the strain of his own approaching orgasm. You wished he could finish inside of you.

You were glad when he leant down, sandwiching Haine even more tightly between the two of you and pistoning his hips faster as he caught your mouth in a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. You were, of course, quick to reciprocate, opening your mouth wider so Al’s tongue could dive its way into your mouth and dance with your own. You wanted to feel his entire body against you but this would have to do for now. The pressure between your legs built up more and more until it finally released in a wave of pleasure extending all the way to the tips of your fingers. You placed a hand on the back of Al’s head, gripping his hair tightly enough you knew it’d probably sting a little, as a moan slipped between your lips and your body tensed repeatedly. Al grunted into the kiss as well, hips finally stuttering as he presumably came as well.

It took you a good few minutes for the fuzz clouding your mind to clear, but when it did, you registered that Haine—you admittedly tuned his presence out for a moment—was still collapsed atop of you after finishing inside of you again, while Al had pulled out and was leaning against the back of the bed frame. Like you’d been doing all night, throwing each other chance glances, you laughed when your tired, bliss-filled eyes crossed again and Al raised a half-amused brow at you. You weren’t sure what exactly you’d won at, but you definitely had the feeling that you did, in fact, win. You had tempted him back here after all, and that was good enough for you.

You still felt a bit bad for Haine, but considering how incapacitated he was now, only just managing to roll to the side so he wasn’t suffocating you, you could console yourself with the shallow justification that he’d definitely enjoyed himself as far as first times went. You were looking forward to the next time you and Al were alone together; he wasn’t likely to forget such a stunt nor let you off the hook for it, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t excited to see what would happen next.

[pierrai]

Hello! No one asked for this at all (sorry!!), but unfortunately, I fell down a rabbit hole of curating Pokémon teams for my OCs, and then fell down a deeper rabbit hole of creating sprites for them! I might as well post them here along with some explanations of why the teams are the way they are! It is far too long oh my god!!! You don't have to read this!!!!

Character: Multiple Word Count: 6581 Scenario: OC Pokémon Teams Warnings: Mentions of death, alcoholism, Damien's hobbies

Absol

This Pokémon has the ability to predict disasters with its horn and thus has become the victim of superstitions as people believed it instead causes disasters. It is fairly obvious why Mira would be drawn to such a Pokémon, himself being cursed, but it certainly doesn’t help combat the superstitions spread about him either. Absol dislikes fighting, so Mira hardly ever uses it in combat.

Phantump

Phantump is said to be a Pokémon made from the spirit of a child that got lost in the forest and perished. Rumours claim that adults are often lured into the forest by their human-like cries, never to be seen again, but Mira isn’t phased by this. He can’t properly recall when he found this Pokémon, but it’s been with him as far back as he can remember. The leaves of Phantump can be used to make a cure-all medicine, which Mira often makes use of with permission.

Ditto

Being a Pokémon that can change its cell structure so as to mimic the appearance of another being, Mira has this Pokémon simply due the fact that he also attempts to mimic those around him to fit in. Mistakenly believing Ditto might feel equally as insecure being itself as he is and needed a friend, he caught it. Once or twice, his Ditto has transformed into Mira himself, an occurrence that made Eliot rather frustrated once he realised his roommate wasn’t blankly staring at him and smiling due to his own empty-headedness, but rather that the Mira in front of him wasn’t Mira at all.

Wobbuffet

This Pokémon never attacks first and is very docile, yet it is extremely protective of its pitch black tail and will strike back if it is attacked. People believe that because it hides its tail so fervently, it hides a secret—a concept Mira is intimately familiar with. Despite their similarities, Eliot claims that Mira likes Wobbuffet due to its idiotic expression and equally as idiotic mannerisms. Mira simply finds it cute.

Murkrow

Murkrow is another Pokémon Mira has a soft-spot for due to others dislike of it. This Pokémon is feared and loathed due to the supposed misfortune it brings upon others. There is a common saying that warns people to be home before Murkrow appear at night to ward away its bad luck, but much like with Absol, Mira dislikes this notion and pays it no mind. Murkrow often steals shiny items from others and gives it to humans it’s fond of, but Mira has politely asked his only to take items that it looks like no one wants and happily treasures every item it brings back.

Mimikyu

Mimikyu is a lonely Pokémon that covers its true form with an old rag meant to resemble the popular Pokémon, Pikachu, in an attempt to make friends. It is thought that if its rag is lifted to reveal its true form, it could cause illness or even death, so it tries its best to keep itself covered. Though Mira has told it many times he'd still love it even without its rag on, he understands the feeling of wanting to stay hidden, so he contents himself with not knowing its true appearance for now.

Clefairy

This Pokémon is most commonly seen during or after a full moon, but it is a very shy Pokémon and rarely shows itself to humans. Eliot was gifted a Cleffa during his time with his cult, and it later evolved into Clefairy, a fact that often surprises people when you realise that Cleffa evolves from high friendship. Clefairy can evolve further with the use of a moonstone, but Eliot is too poor to afford one.

Lunatone

Being another Pokémon that follows a lunar theme, Eliot likes this Pokémon's appearance even more due to it's crescent moon shape, even despite the ominous red eye at the centre of its body. There are rumours that this Pokémon hails from another planet or descended from a meteor, but Eliot doesn't really care, and simply admires its appearance and quiet nature. It is another Pokémon that has been with him since childhood.

Chimecho

When a breeze blows through Chimecho's body, it creates a beautiful tone that reminds Eliot of a singing voice. He enjoys listening to its peaceful notes when he feels nostalgic or sad, and it's mostly seen above his bed or hovering over his shoulder. Chimecho is another Pokémon that is evolved from high friendship, originally starting out as the bell-shaped Pokémon, Chingaling. When Eliot was a child, he enjoyed watching it hop around so he could hear it jingle.

Munna

Eliot first encountered Munna when waking up one morning to find it floating over his bed expelling black mist. Thinking it was trying to poison him, he shooed it away, only to find it would come back every night. At Mira's insistence that it 'wanted to be friends', he ended up capturing it, and realised not long after that his nights were more peaceful. Munna is a Pokémon that eats people's dreams and soothes them when they're having nightmares. When the dreams it eats are pleasant, it expels pink mist, and when they're not, the mist is black.

Umbreon

Originally, Eliot was gifted this Pokémon in the form of an Eevee by his roommate, Mira. Though initially grumbling that it was just a fluffy nuisance Mira had found in the forest, he grew a soft spot for it and it eventually evolved into an Umbreon after forming a strong bond with Eliot. Once again, he first disliked its sleek, black appearance before discovering that it is a Pokémon empowered by the moon, and he then loved it even more.

Snivy

Despite being the only Pokémon in Eliot's roster that prefers sunlight to moonlight, the two share a snootiness that makes them perfect for each other. Though initially disliking Snivy, Eliot soon grew to respect its intelligent nature and calm demeanour. It is a Pokémon that suits his personality to a T, a fact that is made most obvious when the two are seen turning their noses up in the same haughty manner at whoever they see as beneath them.

Vaporeon

Much like Nen, Vaporeon is a creature that has adapted to both land and sea, yet prefers to stay in the comfort of freshwater lakes. When in water, it can blend in to hide itself from enemies. Nen originally encountered this Pokémon as an Eevee that took a liking to him once he fed it some berries, and it eventually evolved into a Vaperon after Nen accidentally stumbled upon a Water Stone while swimming. Nen often sits with his Vaporeon to await approaching rainstorms, as this Pokémon's fins will vibrate when it detects moisture in the air.

Lotad

Lotad is another Pokémon that is frequently found in ponds or lakes. Its head resembles a lily pad, so it often floats on the surface of lakes to blend in. When it doesn't drink for a while, it can wilt, but thankfully, Nen is never far from a body of water, so neither is his Lotad. The two were introduced when Nen left his village and found shelter near a small pond. Using its leaf, Lotad ferried fruit and nuts from one end of the pond to another to attempt to comfort Nen and stayed with him afterwards.

Kecleon

This Pokémon has the ability to camouflage itself barring the red stripe on its stomach. Thinking Nen was something akin to prey, it turned itself invisible and then attacked him with his tongue, only to discover this did little but startle Nen and soon after annoy him. Being a Pokémon that dislikes when it isn't found and taken notice of, it became pouty when Nen eventually started ignoring it to resist it's pranks. At some point, Nen assumes it decided on being his Pokémon, as it's just stayed with him since and pranked him much less.

Surskit

Surskit is a Pokémon that enjoys gliding across lakes and ponds with oil it secrets from its feet, but it also enjoys skirting across puddles after a rainstorm. When Nen swims within the lake and dives underneath the surface of the water, Surskit often accompanies him by skating directly above him. Surskit can create syrup from the tip of its head, so it often shares this syrup with Nen and the other Pokémon he owns.

Ledyba

As Nen is very fond of ladybugs, he loves this Pokémon the most. He attempted to befriend it when he was young, finding it away from the other Ledyba that lived near his village. Ledyba are Pokémon that become timid and afraid to move when separated from their clusters, but Nen persistently visited it day after day until it grew attached to him and eventually began to move again. Once it was fully comfortable being around him, it decided to make its home with him rather than re-join its cluster.

Araquanid

Araquanid is another Pokémon Nen became friends with over time. It initially saw him as a threat, fearing he would harm the other Pokémon of the lake, but eventually realised he was harmless and began to accept his presence. This Pokémon can use the bubble around its head both as a weapon and protective shield for weaker Pokémon despite often being seen as scary. A couple of times it has tried to put Nen into its bubble, thinking he is vulnerable and in need of protection.

Arcanine

The evolution of Growlithe, a fiercely loyal Pokémon that is quick to charge at enemies much bigger than it. Evolved, it is much stronger, yet still retains its undying loyalty to its owner and is known for being one of the most faithful Pokémon around. These Pokémon often growl and bark at those that approach its owner carelessly, but Jun has slowly trained his not to do so unless absolutely necessary. Oftentimes, Jun uses Arcanine's fluffy mane as a pillow.

Stoutland

Stoutland is an intelligent Pokémon with a friendly and trusting disposition that prefers to stay with humans. Jun has had his ever since it was a Lillipup, and it is equally as trusting and friendly as he is. As Stoutland is very good with children and often used as a babysitter, Jun will take his to play with young children of the Underground when he has the time. Stoutland is another Pokémon he eagerly lets nap in his bed with him thanks to its fluffy fur coat.

Lucario

These Pokémon are said to trust trainers with righteous hearts, which is certainly something that can be attributed to Jun. Despite this Pokémon having a more stern attitude, it is extremely loyal to its trainer, so it has found its place amongst Jun's team. Thanks to its ability to read the auras of other living beings, and its habit of never dropping its guard, Lucario often follows Jun around to assist with his job as a district guard. Lucario is a Pokémon evolved through high friendship, and is one Jun has had since before he joined up with Rin.

Lycanroc

Out of all of the Lycanroc forms, the Midday Form is the most calm and collected, however it can be unruly if not trained properly. For those unwilling to stick by it in this unruly phase, it will continue to be difficult, but as Jun is a fan of adopting charity cases, his Lycanroc is very loyal. When the rocks jutting out of its mane break off, they are considered to bring good luck, so Jun gives them to children as gifts for when they behave well. Due to its mane having rocks, however, Lycanroc often sleeps at the end of Jun's bed to prevent any discomfort.

Braviary

Briaviary can be very aggressive Pokémon despite being admired for their bravery and fighting spirit. Jun's Braviary was gifted to him by Rin, and over a long stretch of time, he managed to quell the Pokémon's aggression (for the most part) and get it acquainted with his other Pokémon. These Pokémon will often protect and fight for its friends even when injured, so it follows that Jun's Braviary wouldn't blink at the prospect of death when protecting him and his team.

Togekiss

Togekiss is a rarely seen Pokémon thanks to its natural habitat of places that have never seen strife. Living in the Underground where strife is rampant, a Togekiss would be the last Pokémon you'd expect to see, but Jun has had his Togekiss ever since it was a Togepi, and it didn't decide to abandon him when his circumstances were less than ideal. Togekiss is said to bring blessings and good luck to those who respect other's rights, something Jun is quick to remind people who are up to no good.

Houndoom

When Houndoom howls, its cries are thought to be that of the Grim Reaper and many Pokémon flee back to their nests upon hearing it. Due to toxins stored in its gut, when Houndoom breathes fire and burns its victims, the pain from injuries caused by it are said to never go away. Perhaps to help convince himself that he no longer fears fire nor can he ever be burnt by it again, Haine has chosen Houndoom to be his companion. Houndoom, of course, cannot grasp these deeper feelings, and is simply loyal to its master.

Chandelure

Despite being another fire-type Pokémon, Chandelure does not physically burn its victims but instead burns away their spirits. Those that end up cast into their flames are said to have their spirit burnt away and absorbed and their body left behind. In that regard, Haine amusedly regards it as capable at soul-harvesting as himself, if not just slightly below him. Occasionally, Haine will feed his Chandelure left over souls he has grown bored off.

Banette-Mega

Banette are formed from abandoned dolls and roam around, seeking out the child that cast it out. Though Haine denies feeling kinship with a creature that has been betrayed in such a way, he treats his own Banette with enough sincerity to suggest otherwise. Much like Haine, Banette is vindictive and enjoys cursing others, so it finds itself right at home by his side. When Banette evolves into Banette-Mega, it is said to become so powerful it curses its owner, but seeing as Haine has already seen his fair share of misfortune, this doesn't seem to affect him.

Gliscor

Having both fangs and wings that resemble a bat, this Pokémon has a lot of vampiric qualities that make it quite fitting for a demon like Haine. Gliscor will often hang upside down and observe its prey before swooping in to strike and draining its victim of all of its blood. Of course, since Haine's domain is drenched in blood, it's not often it needs to ever catch anything for sustenance, so a lot of its hunting is done for fun alongside Haine.

Brambleghast

Brambleghast is a tumbleweed-like Pokémon made up of mangled branches and with unblinking red eyes that rotate to convey its emotions. These Pokémon will trap prey within their branches and then drain it of its life. Once again, this is an oftentimes cruel Pokémon that fits Haine's lifestyle, and this one has the added bonus and being friends with Symfora's Trevenant.

Gourgeist

This Pokémon has pink hair-like arms that entrap its prey and strangle it. It takes great joy in watching its prey suffer, so naturally Haine has no qualms owning one. Larger Gourgeist, which is the type Haine has, often take the form of adults to lure children away from their homes and into the afterlife. The larger a Gourgeist is, the less it cares about who it drags to the afterlife. The only downside of this Pokémon is that its pink hair reminds Haine of a certain 'sibling' he has a distaste for.

Indeedee-F and Indeedee-M

Indeedee is a dual-type Pokémon that is known for willingly serving trainers and thriving off gratitude given towards them. The male form is a skilled valet while the female is good at child-rearing, however Oliver has few guests and even fewer children, so the two of them mostly look after him. As he is often unkempt and too tired to put much effort into housework, his Indeedee do this for him. He feels bad having Pokémon do his chores, but they have adopted a sort of parental role in looking after him and don't seem to mind.

Spinda

Oliver often finds himself acting like his Spinda when he's spent the night before drinking himself stupid. This Pokémon walks in such a staggered and clumsy way, some think it is dancing, but Spinda itself thinks it's walking in a straight line. If it walks too much, it begins to feel sick, so it is a rather useless Pokémon to have around, but Oliver can't complain with his own uselessness made abundantly clear to him. If anything, he is glad to have a drinking buddy that remains perpetually drunk without so much as drinking a sip.

Psyduck

Psyduck is a Pokémon that is constantly wracked by headaches, and Oliver too is frequently plagued by a similar affliction. While Psyduck holds its head an in attempt to soothe itself, Oliver will instead massage his temples and try to will away his hangover. He found this particular Psyduck while walking around, hoping the fresh air would resolve his woes, and when it followed him home afterwards, he didn't have the heart (nor could he be bothered) to get rid of it.

Espurr

It is said that Espurr has immense psychic powers, and the deadpan expression on its face is there to mask the intense struggle it goes through to contain these powers. Oliver unfortunately cannot say the same, and the only thing he struggles to mask are his impulses and intrusive thoughts, but sometimes he likes to fool himself into believing he and this Pokémon are both holding back some immense power. Espurr mostly accompanies him around the house silently, preferring Oliver's quiet day-to-day rather than his hectic night-time drinking.

Happiny

Happiny is perhaps the most out of place amongst Oliver's Pokémon companions. It is a small, happy Pokémon that loves playing with children, yet has somehow ended up the friend of a miserable adult. That being said, this Happiny seems very attached to Oliver and follows him everywhere. Despite its small stature, Happiny is actually very strong, so more than once has it been responsible for carrying Oliver back to bed as if he weighs nothing at all.

Froslass

When Froslass find humans or Pokémon that they like, they freeze them into statues and take them back to their dens. Damien has asked his Froslass not to do this so obviously, but of course admires the craft of preserving that which captures a person. If he ever requires a specimen be frozen for the sake of preserving it, he will ask his Froslass for assistance.

Alakazam

With an intelligence level that can outperform a super computer, Damien often uses this Pokémon to bounce ideas off of or help assist him in trivial calculations. While he is insatiably curious, Alakazam is incredibly smart; a not-so-good combination knowing what Damien is truly like. An Alakazam never forgets what it learns and has immense psychic powers, so while some may think a helpful doctor such as Damien would make good use of such a Pokémon, his victims disagree.

Reuniclus

Another remarkably intelligent Pokémon. The liquid surrounding its body is said to grant wisdom to whoever drinks it, but this liquid is also toxic, a fact Damien knows very well as he frequently experiments with it. One day, he hopes to be able to find a way to detoxify this liquid, but until he finds a test subject that can live through his attempts, he won't drink a sip.

Beheeyem

By using the three coloured lights on each of its hands, this Pokémon can rewrite the memories of its opponents without them ever knowing. Even considering the fact that he himself might have had his memory altered by his Pokémon, Damien believes the risk outweighs the reward and keeps Beheeyem around anyway. Most of the time, he uses it for the convenience of getting away with things he otherwise wouldn't be able to.

Malamar

Malamar has the most powerful psychic powers out of any Pokémon. Using these powers, it can bend others to its will and have them do its bidding, afterwards leaving them none the wiser to what they've been made to do. In Damien's hands, of course, this power is only used for nefarious deeds. Damien and Malamar are alike in their cruelty, though one is intentional whilst the other is perhaps just a byproduct.

Audino

Audino is the only Pokémon Damien shows off to the public, as it is the friendliest Pokémon he has and isn't associated with anything evil unlike the other Pokémon on his team. The feelers on its ears help it sense the feelings of other beings, so Damien has it assist him around his clinic to put people at ease. When it comes time for Damien to work on his passion projects, he puts his Audino back into its pokéball.

Unfezant

Unfezent are immensely proud and intelligent bird-type Pokémon. The females of this species are more adept at flying than the males, but take longer to warm up to people than they do. These Pokémon prefer to only be close to their trainer, which Rin is just fine with, however hers is occasionally seen with her little sister as well.

Liepard

Though they may seem rather graceful and appealing, Liepard are actually quite moody and vicious, using their slenderness to their advantage to be able to sneak up on their prey and strike when it's right. Rin's is no different, and it surely appreciates having an owner who's as no-nonsense as it is. Hers is also very well groomed.

Mightyena

Another one of Rin's protective 'guard dogs'. Mightyena will only respect and follow the commands of trainers they see as superior, and once find this trainer, they won't ever defy them. Rin's Mightyena has great respect for her, so much so that despite often wanting to partake in more puppy-like behaviour for her attention, it instead behaves itself. Chi feeds it snacks and gives it attention on Rin's behalf.

Mienshao

This Pokémon is both skilled and respectful. It most often is seen training with its owner, and Rin's is much the same, often waiting at her command or honing its skills for her betterment. Its moves in battle are so adept and overwhelming, they are difficult to predict and even harder to overcome.

Lycanroc-Dusk

In contrast to Jun's Midday Form, Lycanroc-Dusk is the most difficult to train. It combines the calm nature of the Midday Form and the sheer power and fighting spirit of the Midnight Form, making it a silently powerful companion that requires an equally as strong trainer to control it. Rin was very careful in training hers to only obey her command. Additionally, Lycanroc-Dusk never barks.

Seviper

It has a blade on its tail that is sharpened to a point like a sword, and it uses this tail to slash and poison its enemies. It can constrict itself around its prey before it dispatches them with either its tail or its venomous teeth. When Rin needs to keep someone from running, she uses her Seviper to keep them nice and still.

Lurantis

This Pokémon is described as both glamourous and high-effort, something Azalea embodies quite well herself. To protect itself, this Pokémon pretends to be a bug but is actually a grass-type resembling a flower. The more time put into maintaining its petals, the more vivid it looks, so Azalea spends a lot of time spoiling hers.

Gorebyss

Gorebyss perhaps fits Azalea the most, as while it is graceful and elegant while swimming through the water, it is a cruel Pokémon that will pierce its prey with its sharp mouth and then drain them of their life. The only difference between them is that Gorebyss is very durable, while Azalea isn't.

Galarian Rapidash

As Azalea regards herself as beautiful as a princess from a fairy-tale book, the Galarian variant Rapidash that resembles a mystical unicorn has become one of her favourite Pokémon as her noble steed. She often dotes on it and likes to comb and braid its hair. If not doing that, she snuggles up against it instead and chats to it about all sorts of topics.

Jigglypuff

Azalea only lets beautiful or cute Pokémon join her team, and Jigglypuff firmly fits into the latter category. Jigglypuff is known for its singing voice that lulls Pokémon and people alike to sleep, but as Azalea is a demon, she can resist this and enjoys singing with it instead. It is debatable to whether this 'concert' of theirs is any good.

Luvdisc

Couples that happen upon a Luvdisk are said to be blessed with eternal love, and people who wish to confess their love often gift Luvdisk to their intended partner. Growing up, Azalea always wished for a Luvdisk to cross her path, but when that didn't happen and she didn't find her 'prince', she just found a Luvdisk of her own and gave that all of her love instead.

Tsareena

This Pokémon is so beautiful it is often used a mascot for beauty salons, however it is just as dangerous as it is visually appealing. One kick can create wounds that never heal, and once its defeated its opponent, it cackles and kicks the body of its unfortunate foe. Azalea, too, finds this funny. She regards her Tsareena as a best friend of sorts, and talks to it about topic she imagines girls often chat about with their friends. Unfortunately, it can't respond with actual words.

Zoroark

Zoroark is a misunderstood Pokémon that is often seen as terrifying due to the illusions it places on those who try to disturb its peace, but it is a protective Pokémon that cares deeply for its own kind. Symfora originally had her Zoroark as a Zorua, until it evolved after her travelling companion was killed. It now protects her and the forest she resides in.

Trevenant

The evolution of Phantump. As Symfora often wanders the forest, she naturally encountered a Pokémon known for controlling trees at will. As she is no threat to the forest itself and instead helps repel humans from harming it, Trevenant became loyal to her. Trevenant shows great kindness to those who live in the forest, Symfora and her family included.

Drifblim

It is said that Drifblim is fuelled by souls, and so it is burdened by many regrets. Its previous evolution, Drifloon, is known as a child-snatcher, but Symfora dislikes the notion that she is 'snatching' children, rather that she is taking them under her wing and lulling them to eternal peace. Symfora's Drifblim often floats away to unknown places, but it always returns to her eventually.

Dusknoir

Dusknoir is another Pokémon that is feared due to the nature of its power, despite not actually being evil. It is known for taking the lost spirits of those that have died and taking them to the afterlife. It often accompanies Symfora and takes in the souls that she creates in her wake, guiding them to peace inside of its body.

Darkrai

Much like Zoroark, Darkrai is misunderstood due to the methods it uses to protect itself. To chase away people or Pokémon from its territory, it afflicts a nightmarish slumber upon those that get too close. It, however, means no harm. When Symfora was young, Darkrai was said to protect her people with its powers, and when Symfora became the last of her kind is when Darkrai accepted Symfora is its trainer.

Oddish

Perhaps the most out-of-place of all of Symfora's Pokémon, Oddish is a small grass-type that roams around the forest of a night and spreads seeds. This particular Oddish simply took a liking to Symfora and decided to follow her around, eventually becoming one of her more beloved Pokémon thanks to its innocent nature.

Swirlix

Peri's choice of what Pokémon to have on his team is mostly decided on the most inane whims. He likes Swirlix thanks to its cotton-candy appearance and amusing expression. Occasionally, he likes to snack on the sweet and syrupy strings it extrudes, but its unknown whether these are actually meant to be edible.

Gengar

Gengar is a trickster Pokémon that enjoys scaring others and laughing at their terror. It has never managed to scare Peri, but it operates on the same strange system Fae do when it comes to thoughtlessly terrorising others, so the two make good friends. Peri likes Gengar's smile and claims that it's 'very cute', despite a great many who've been scared by it strongly disagreeing.

Wigglytuff

The evolution of Jigglypuff. The fur of this creature is soft and fluffy, so Peri often uses his like a plush toy and snuggles it whenever he feels like. Since Jigglypuff likes to sing, Peri will encourage his Wigglytuff to sing for him too and loudly sing along with it once it starts. Sometimes when Peri's cuddling gets too enthusiastic, his Wigglytuff will inflate itself to push him away.

Slowpoke

Peri simply thinks this Pokémon looks funny, and so he caught one. It is so slow and dopey that it can take up to five seconds for this Pokémon to register pain, and it spends most of its day lazing around. If Peri finds any wild Slowpoke, he has his own race against them for fun.

Mismagius

Its cries sound like incantations and those that hear them are often tormented by headaches. Even if these headaches could affect Peri, he wouldn't care too much. Mismagius is known to curse others or help them on whim, so it often difficult to figure them out or know if they are truly dangerous; the same could be said about Peri himself. Peri lovingly calls Mismagius his big sister.

Mew

It's both very shocking yet somehow also very unsurprising to find that Peri owns a legendary Pokémon like Mew. According to legend, it only appears to those pure of heart and those that want to really see it. Peri, perhaps unconventionally, harbours both. He thinks Mew is cute and fun to play with and Mew is usually seen floating above his shoulders or curled around them.

Krookodile

Though not fitting of the Catesby name, Krookodile is definitely a match for Al. Krookodile are violent Pokémon that never let their prey escape, and they're capable of crushing metal with the strength of their jaw. Al enjoys the threat this powerful Pokémon boasts, along with its patience to wait for the best prey to cross its path before snapping its jaws shut. The fact that this Pokémon is a 'crook' is also quite fitting.

Thievul

Thievul, for obvious reasons, is another Pokémon that very much fits Al, but is one that his family would despise. It is known for tracking its prey by marking its scent and stalking it down. It is also skilled at stealing, so Al uses it when someone else has what he wants. Thievul, however, knows never to steal from Alastor himself, and is often the one protecting his stock.

Arbok

This Pokémon is ferocious and transfixes its prey using the markings on its belly. Once it has targeted its prey, it never gives up the chase until that prey is dead, thanks to its vengeful and determined nature. This is another Pokémon Alastor enjoys owning thanks to its terrifying strength, and is one he uses when he needs to intimidate someone.

Crobat

When someone is bitten by a Crobat, its teeth are so sharp and its movements so fast, its hard to know it ever happened. Crobat feeds off of the blood of people and Pokémon, so Al lets its accompany him to any fights to regain its strength by feeding off the unconscious bodies of those he's taken down. Since Crobat is evolved through high friendship, its often surprising that someone as callous as Al is able to own one, but his charming and somewhat possessive nature allows him to get along well with creatures he can call his own.

Honchkrow

Honchkrow often oversee multiple Murkrows, its previous evolution, and it makes its cronies bring it food. If a Murkrow fumbles one of its orders, Honchkrow will be ruthless and unforgiving. This Honchkrow seems to respect Alastor's control of his gang, and if Al ever needs assistance, it will summon Murkrows and set them to work. It often attempts to mimic its owner when giving out commands to its underlings.

Staraptor

One of the only Pokémon Al has kept from his family. Though he initially disliked the Starly he was given by Orion as a young child (in his own words, it wasn't cool enough), he soon grew to love the ruthless Starpator it evolved into. When Staraptor evolve from Staravia, they leave their flock to live alone. They also often challenge foes much bigger than it.

Pidgeot

Like a majority of Orion's Pokémon, he has raised his Pidgeot since its beginning evolution. Pidgeot is a powerful bird-type that can fly at Mach-2 speed, however Orion's is well-trained and never leaves its owner's sight unless directed too. It always eagerly awaits the times when Orion is free from his duties to let it fly around.

Skarmory

Skarmory's hardened feathers are often used by humans to create swords and knives once they shed, and Orion has a fencing sword forged from the fallen feathers of his own Skarmory. This Pokémon is popular in heraldic designs and was considered as the family crest for the Catesby family way back when before a more traditional bird was chosen.

Swanna

Swanna perhaps fits Orion's proud and regal image the most. While a majority of his other Pokémon are rather ruthless-appearing bird-types, his Swanna is calm and collected and is the one best suited for formal events if needed. Alastor was bitten by it once as a child after he attempted to carelessly pet its head, and he's hated it ever since.

Corviknight

With its lustrous, blackened steel feathers, this Pokémon is both beautiful and intimidating to behold. Orion's Corviknight in particular is often by his side for protection, and will be the first to rush to his defence should anything happen. On occasion, it will also care for his younger siblings.

Swellow

Swellow is the smallest Pokémon Orion owns, and also the most conscientious about its appearance. Swellow doesn't trouble itself with Orion's day-today life, but enjoys being let out to perform graceful arcs in the sky, hunt down prey, and diligently preen its feathers afterwards once its back on its cage.

Talonflame

Its diet is made up of other bird Pokémon, but thankfully Orion has trained it well, and it gets along with his other bird-types. Due to it having fireproof wings, its feathers are often used to create fire-resistant clothing, but Orion uses the feathers that have fallen off of his own Talonflame as quill pens. It also stokes his fireplaces during long nights spent working overtime.

Glaceon

This is the Pokémon that is most often seen out of its pokéball and by Lyra's side thanks to its small stature. By manipulating the moisture in the air around it, it can create a mist of diamond-like crystals that are both very beautiful and very cold; the same could very well be said for Lyra herself. This Glaceon in particular has a snooty attitude and is a picky eater.

Dragonair

Dragonair is a graceful and elegant Pokémon with a calm and gentle nature. It is said its aura can control the weather around it, so if Lyra has somewhere to be, it will stop any rainstorms around her to maintain her carefully-crafted appearance. Thanks to their similar serpent-like shape, it gets along well with Milotic.

Ninetales-Alola

The Alola variant of Ninetales is worshipped as a deity back where its from, and when people would get lost in the mountains, it would graciously guide them back home. Lyra's Ninetales is very beautiful and calm, yet also quite protective. If anyone gets too close to Lyra without permission, especially men, they risk being frozen stiff.

Milotic

Despite evolving from one of the most ugly Pokémon, Milotic is considered the most beautiful. It is only fitting that the prized eldest daughter of the Catesby family, whose beauty and musical talent is said to be unmatched, would be accompanied by such a breath-taking Pokémon. The sight of it is said to calm violent hearts.

Altaria

Perhaps the most lively of any of Lyra's Pokémon, Altaria enjoys singing in a high-pitched voice that make those that listen feel like they're in a dream. Altaria that have bonded with their owners will enjoy wrapping them in their fluffy, cloud-like wings and humming. This happens less now that Lyra is an adult, but as a child, she enjoyed being held by her Altaria as the two sang together, and occasionally, she still lets it happen.

Primarina

Primarina is another Pokémon that greatly enjoys singing and has a beautiful voice, but it also requires a lot of upkeep and training to maintain this. Thanks to Lyra's profession, her Primarina is never wanting for a tune to sing to and has performed on stage with her before. It has a bit of a haughty attitude and will only respond to Lyra herself.

Persian

Persian is a sophisticated-looking Pokémon that is often admired for its regal appearance, but beneath that, it is a fickle Pokémon that scratches even when given little reason to do so. Florin's is known for scratching servants that get too close to either it or Florin, and unfortunately, it was never properly trained not to do so by its lazy and inconsiderate owner.

Glameow

Another fickle cat-like Pokémon, Glameow is an elegant and selfish Pokémon. Though it is often seen purring and swirling its tail happily around Florin, it will scratch anyone else, especially when it isn't fed on time. At the first sight of danger, it will run away. Florin loves the colour of its fur and spends a lot of time petting it.

Cinccino

Cincinno is a popular Pokémon thanks to its soft fur that repels dust and secrets an oil that is good for dry skin. Since Florin's is shiny (like all of his Pokémon), his is even more popular. Cinccino (again, like all of Florin's Pokémon) was purchased for him when he was young, and ever since then, it has lived a lavish life as his companion and glorified pillow. Despite being obtained through dubious means, it still bonded with Florin as a child and, much like the others, doesn't hold any malice towards him.

Chatot

Most servants already consider it bad enough that they have to serve a prince who doesn't know when to shut up, but they find it even more insufferable to withstand said prince and his pet bird that mimics his words. Florin encourages his Chatot to talk as much as it pleases, as he finds it amusing. Sometimes, Chatot will repeat commands Florin has given before, tricking the poor serving staff into thinking that Florin has ordered them to do something.

Seaking

Florin wanted this Pokémon for its name alone, claiming that one day he'd be the king of the world with the king of all Pokémon at his side. Neither of these things will ever become true, but Florin can at least be king of his own land with a Seaking by his side instead. Florin's Seaking has a whole aquarium to itself and is fed only the highest quality of fish food.

Sableye

Sableye is a feared Pokémon due to rumours that it steals the spirits of those who see it when its eyes glow. Florin's soul has thus far remained unstolen, perhaps due to the steady diet of crystals and gemstones he feeds it. Florin thinks the gemstone on its chest and the gems it has for eyes are very pretty, which is the reason why he wanted a Sabeleye in the first place.

[pierrai]

Fic about Haine having a wet dream about Celeste...

It's still Haine's birthday (in some parts of the world!) so here is a fic just for him! I am once again proving that I cannot write a short fic for the life of me! I hope I am cured soon!

Character: Haine, Celeste Word Count: 3238 Scenario: Haine has a wet dream Warnings: NSFW, semi-public sex

Haine

Linguistics isn’t very interesting at the best of times, but today’s class seems to drag on more than ever.

Haine has gained an appreciation for maths and physics at least. Celeste is usually more enthusiastic about those classes, and the more engaged she was, the more he usually was too. She hates this class though, thus his tolerance of it also wavered.

His girlfriend is sitting at the desk next to him, not looking particularly thrilled.

Celeste. His girlfriend. The word still feels foreign to him.

They’ve been dating for a month or two now. One moment they were friends, and the next, they’d snowballed into dating each other. Perhaps it was the next natural step considering how close they’d been, but Haine sort of feels narcissistic thinking so. Celeste sometimes feels way out of his league.

Somehow though, she likes him and he likes her. Celeste is his girlfriend. If they manage to survive the rest of this boring class, perhaps he and his girlfriend can make it through the rest of the day together and he can invite her to one of the internet cafés he frequents. That sounds like a nice way to spend the rest of the day. 

His phone lights up. Luckily, he always keeps it on silent so no attention is drawn to him, and he’s able to subtly swipe his phone open. It’s a message from Celeste. He briefly gazes over at her again, but she’s looking forward with her chin resting on her palm. She’s probably just as bored as he is and is messaging to share in their misery. At least the class might pass by quicker if he has Cel to talk to. He can ask about the café while he’s at it too.

But his assumption couldn’t be more wrong, and as soon as he’s opened their message thread, he’s quickly closing it again.

Had he seen that right? That was—

Hesitantly, he opens it again. He hadn’t seen wrong. Celeste had sent him a nude.

The sight of it goes straight to his groin. It’s a very nice photo, to put it simply. She’s clearly put more-than-necessary effort into setting up the shot. The lighting is atmospheric but he can still see every detail as intended. The photo is of her torso. Her face is just out of shot, but he can see her chin trapping her shirt up against her collarbone along with one of her hands so her chest is on show. The other hand is down at her waist, thumb hooking into a particularly lewd pair of underwear he didn’t even know she had. They are tugged down just enough that he can see her hip bone. Her breasts are the main course: supple and round and far too much for Haine to be focusing on in class right now.

He minimises the app again and turns his head sharply towards Celeste who has decided to look at him now. Her expression is deceptively flat but her eyes look both amused and expectant.

Haine frantically opens the messaging app again and brings up the keyboard so at least the top half of the photo is hidden.

He sees his message pop up on her phone, and she subtly opens it and gazes down at her screen. A small ‘...’ appears as she one-handedly types her response.

He would, but that is definitely besides the point. He’s more so thinking about how he’s supposed to deal with the quickly growing boner in his pants for the last five minutes of this lesson, and how he’s supposed to continue dealing with said boner for the hour of the next.

He grimaces.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see her lean into the palm of her hand to hide what's probably a satisfied smile.

He doesn’t have to be a genius to figure out what she wants to do when they skip. Haine doesn’t make it a habit to skip his classes, but it’s not like he’s been left with much choice. The stupid organ between his legs (and Celeste) have dictated that. 

With a reaction as flustered as this, it’s hard for Haine to believe that he’s actually already had sex with Celeste. This should be child’s play compared to that. It’s only a nude photo of her. Not like they haven’t gone the full mile already. He turns off his phone and forces his eyes to the front to look at the whiteboard full of proper nouns and stative verbs and whatever the hell else is on there. How many more times did he have to have sex before he stopped being a virgin exactly?

If the class was dragging on before, now it felt like it’d had all four of its limbs dismembered and was told to ascend a flight of stairs. Five minutes has never felt longer. He’s stuck crossing and uncrossing his legs multiple times until finally the bell goes off and the teacher dismisses them. Haine hesitates to stand to his feet too quickly, worried his arousal will be obvious beneath his pants, but he does when Celeste stands up and walks over to his desk instead. He can’t even properly meet her eyes for a moment.

She takes his hand and he doesn’t do much to resist as she leads him along. Sometimes he wonders what people think when they see them like this. Do they think they make a good couple? Hopefully they think that and not about what they might be doing hurrying off and out the classroom.

They pass through throngs of students all rushing to their next class, and Haine is glad for the busy hallways. Celeste’s hand feels like it's burning his own and god, it’s ridiculous how much of an effect one photo can have on him. He’s so inexperienced in this sort of thing, he doesn’t know what the right reaction to have is. Maybe he’s just too attracted to his girlfriend. He wonders how long she spent setting up the shot; how long she spent getting the right angle and whether she tried different ones just to see which would please Haine the most.

Yeah, there was no chance he would’ve survived the next class.

Celeste turns an inconspicuous corner and looks around for a moment before swinging a door open and tugging Haine inside. He’s pulled into a darkened room whose purpose becomes clear when the door shuts and the light is turned on.

“A cupboard? Are you serious, Cel?” His voice wobbles slightly.

“Don’t panic. It locks, see?” She turns the knob of the door, looking at Haine as it clicks satisfyingly, then she pulls the handle a couple of times to prove it was, indeed, locked. Even so, Haine presses his lips into a line, staring at her as his cheeks burn even further red. Her face seems to fall slightly. “Don’t you want to?” Haine opens and closes his mouth a couple of times but eventually just lowers his gaze.

“Of course, I do…” He wouldn’t be able to say no. Celeste could be a tease and sometimes it drove him crazy, but when he actually gave in and reciprocated, it made her happy. Just that alone was enough—to know she was happy he wanted her the same way she wanted him. Having a girlfriend was so strange and fulfilling like that.

Her face lights up again, and she walks over to him in such a way that all the hair on the back of Haine’s neck stand straight.

“No one will come looking for us,” she says, coming to a stop right in front of him. “Don’t you want to do anything now that we’re alone together?”

“If I do, I wonder whose fault that is,” he grumbles. Celeste quirks a brow in amusement.

“Don’t you want to anyway?” She asks.

“I try not to think about that sort of thing in class.” Though admittedly, he has before. He’s just fortunately been able to quell such thoughts before they get out of hand, and he certainly didn’t have any scandalous photos to kickstart his dirty thoughts right past the goalpost and into the next field.

“But, you have?” She stands a step closer. Her body is almost pressed against his. Haine’s eyes flit down to her chest for a moment accidentally.

“...Sort of.” She smiles at his admission, like she’s won something. Sometimes, she could be as irritating as (though much more endearing than) her older brother.

“Sit down. There’s some boxes, look,” she says, gently pushing on his chest and nodding her head to the space behind him. 

“Wh-What? Why?” He stutters, barely getting a look behind him before his legs hit something and he falls into a sitting position. He doesn’t even know what this cupboard is for, just that he’s about to terribly defile it.

“I want to try something…” Haine watches as she steps towards him and hitches her leg up so she can gently sit herself down on his lap. His breath catches in his throat. As if the raging hard-on beneath his pants wasn’t bad enough, her weight is now pressed against it. Her legs are now wrapped snug around his waist and whether he means to or not, he ends up grabbing them so she doesn’t fall. They’re soft.

She gasps a little when he does it though, and his cock throbs in his pants.

“S-Sorry…” He tries to loosen his grip a bit but Celeste places a hand over his to keep it place. Her face is going a bit red now too. Despite being a bit of a tease, she is still new to most of this as well. Sleeping together once or twice didn’t seem to be enough to get rid of her bashfulness either.

Knowing he isn’t about to move his hands away, she instead uses it to begin unbuttoning her shirt very slowly.

“Did you like the photo?” She asks, undoing button after agonising button. He can see her cleavage, then her bra, then her stomach. His hands creep a little bit further up her thighs so they’re under her skirt.

“...Do you need to ask?” Obviously, he did. She can probably feel how much he liked the photo pressing right up against her crotch. Haine’s not very hard to read in this sense. His face feels bright red.

“I wanna know,” she eggs him on, grinding down her hips slightly, intentionally or not, and Haine lets out a shaky sigh.

“Obviously…” It occurs to him that he should say more. “I-It was a good photo…” Celeste smiles at him, and he’s both cursing himself for being so tactless and uninspired and simultaneously glad he has a girlfriend who understands that he’s just not very good at this.

He is curious though…

“Did…” He begins, then quickly losing his nerve. 

“What?” Celeste is looking at him hopefully, and he has to turn his head away. It’s not like complimenting or simply asking about the picture his girlfriend sent him is embarrassing, but he still can’t quite do it naturally.

“Did you spend a lot of time taking it…?” Her cheeks darken just slightly.

“Sort of. Maybe half an hour. I took a few.”

“A few?” He echoes as she attempts to unzip the fly of his pants. Even through multiple layers of fabric, her fingers touching around that area of his body feels good, no doubt helped but the mental image of Celeste taking multiple photos just for him.

“You’ll have to wait for them.” She finally manages to reach past his pants and to his underwear. Her fingers press gently against his shaft through the fabric and he can’t manage to bite back a low moan. Her lips quirk upwards a bit. “I wonder what you’d do if I sent one while I wasn’t around?”

He glowers at her, albeit weakly, and she lets out a quieter laugh. They both know the answer, but Haine doesn’t want to say it, and Celeste mercifully doesn’t say it outloud either.

Soon her hand has found its way under the waistband of his underwear, and he shudders feeling the contact of her skin directly against his. He feels even more sensitive than usual, perhaps because of the eternity he had to wait in class while thinking about Celeste, Celeste and more Celeste.

He shifts his hips slightly as she wraps her hand around the base of his cock so she has easier access to it, making sure to hold onto her thighs tightly so she doesn’t fall. His tip is dripping with precum, and Celeste pumps her hand only a few, slow times before she shifts around.

“Hold on,” she says, taking her hand off his cock and raising her body so she can move her hips upwards. Haine is allowed a few glorious seconds of her chest being right in front of his face. She reaches under her skirt, slipping her underwear to the side (Haine assumes) before she shuffles back forward, placing her hand back where it was. Seems neither of them really wanted to wait, but Haine finds himself speaking up anyway.

“W-Wait—I don’t have any—” He begins.

“I’ll take pills,” she cuts him off cleanly. Was that how that worked? Haine, embarrassingly, didn’t have much of a clue, and despite the small part of his mind telling him he should care more, he’s also too turned on to doubt her. Celeste probably knows what she’s talking about. He just wants to be inside her.

“Okay, okay…” He grits out, and she spares him another glance before angling his cock so the tip is pointed right at her entrance.

“You can always pull out anyway,” she adds. He nods impatiently.

He can already feel the heat of her insides and it only grows hotter as she slowly sinks herself down. Haine bites his lip, but a ragged breath still manages to escape through his nose. Celeste, similarly, lets out a quiet moan, and she moves her hand back up to his shoulder while he grips her thighs tighter once she’s fully sheathed around him. Just like the first time, it feels insanely good and also insanely weird. Being connected to another human being like this, especially one he loves much as Cel, is sometimes too good to believe it’s really happening.

They’re still for a few moments until Celeste lifts herself up again. The soft, spongy heat of her walls rubs against his whole length and he has to bite his lip again to stop a louder moan from leaking out. Celeste lets out a quiet whine as she sinks back down. She repeats the motion, again and again, slowly. Haine moves his hands up further so they’re practically at her waist. He feels bad having her do all the work, but by the look on her face, she’s enjoying being the one in control, and he’s not about to complain either.

He can’t believe they’re doing something like this in a place like this. He’s fucking Celeste in a school cupboard.

He might be feeling more daring, or he might just not want anyone passing by outside to hear his moans, but he leans his head forward and presses his mouth against her chest as she continues bouncing up and down at a more steady pace. Her breath comes out in huffs and sighs as he catches his teeth gently against her collarbone and then slightly lower just above her breasts. He wishes he could kiss down further. Celeste’s hands have moved to his head now, her fingers tangling in his hair. He probably couldn’t feel more want for her in this moment if he tried.

When he unknowingly thrusts his hips upward, she lets out a gasp louder than she should, and Haine moves his face back up to her level so he can kiss her instead. She reciprocates quickly, moans being swallowed up between their lips so the only sound filling the room is the ragged breaths leaving their noses and the occasional slapping of skin. Haine doesn’t think he can last much longer.

They break apart, faces inches away from each other. Haine is too taken by the moment to feel embarrassed about it. The coil in his stomach gets tighter and tighter before he comes undone completely and his hips stutter in their movement. Celeste’s hips keep moving as she attempts to chase her own high, and Haine buries his face against the crook of her neck, unable to even think about pulling out. It feels too good. He wants to come inside her.

Her grinding movements drag out his orgasm till he’s milked completely dry. His fingers grip her waist so tightly from pleasure that he’s worried he might’ve bruised her, but he can’t help himself. A pathetic, raspy moan is dragged out from his throat and Celeste finally begins slowing her movements as she rubs circles along his scalp, her own breaths ragged. Eventually, Haine’s grip on her loosens, and he wraps his arms around her waist so he can just hold onto her instead. He loves being this close to her.

Once his high calms down, he wants to ask if she’s come too. If she hasn’t, he’ll give her all the attention she needs until she does—he wants her to feel good too, so just as soon as he’s finished—

Suddenly, he’s awake.

He’s in the cottage, that much he can tell. Sunlight is streaming through the crack in the curtains and there isn’t any shouting nor the stench of alcohol and smoke. His heart is racing anyway despite his peaceful surroundings, and he sits up slowly to try and get his bearings.

A dream. It had been a dream.

He still feels like he’s coming down from his high, the end of it at least. He lifts the sheets and peers between his legs to see a wet patch forming at the crotch of his pants. A heavy sigh finds its way out of his mouth.

Celeste…

He doesn’t know which part of this he should find the most embarrassing. The fact he’d dreamt Celeste was his girlfriend when she wasn’t, that she’d been the one in control during his fantasy while he was uselessly guided along, or just that he’d had a wet dream about her to begin with. As if being a dirty-minded pervert wasn’t enough, he was a coward as well. 

He doesn’t even know if Celeste would be willing to do something so dirty in a school cupboard of all places. It’s really not something he finds appropriate to think about either. Celeste is his friend.

His friend he’s had a wet dream about. He’s doomed.

His phone buzzing reminds him that she’s supposed to come over today. The notification on his phone screen makes his heart skip a beat for a second, and he tries to push away the embarrassingly clear image of the nude photo dream-Celeste had sent him when he opens their message thread.

It’s not a nude. It’s just a good morning message. He awkwardly types a response, thinking about how if he’s already feeling this awkward over text, god forbid how terrible he’ll be when he’s sat right next to her today.

He sighs. He needs to wash his sheets.

[pierrai]

fic of damien washing celeste! can turn nsfw. make him creepy. <3

Enjoy anon <3

Character: Damien, Celeste Word Count: 3151 Scenario: Damien washes Celeste Warnings: NSFW, non-consensual touching, implied self-harm, Damien's scientific dirty talk

Damien

Taking baths together has become a usual occurrence now. Celeste was very much against it at first, and though Damien suspects (knows) she still is, just quieter, she barely says anything when he suggests they wash up and gently takes her hand to guide her to the bathroom. She waits until he begins stripping first before she’ll hesitantly take her clothes off, and he always, always has to invite her over to sit in the tub with him before she dares to move.

So far, Damien has been gracious in letting Celeste sit a fair distance away from him, but today he insisted she sit with her back pressing against him instead. He sat himself down in the water and gently called her over, calmly saying that today he wished to sit a bit closer so he could more easily wash her.

Her reservations were made clear by the look of fear on her face, but after not quite being able to say no properly, she clambered into the tub with Damien’s assistance, and now she sat between his legs.

She doesn’t let her back lean full against him, purposefully sitting forward so that there isn’t much contact. Her body is arched forward, legs folded, knees pressed against her chest… She's like a scared animal. Utterly adorable. 

It doesn’t matter to Damien, of course. Like he always does, he grabs the washcloth from the side of the tub and dips it in the water, letting it soak in the warmth and wet before he lifts it out again and presses it against Celeste’s back. She flinches rather clearly, but doesn’t move otherwise, already used to this routine of being washed. Despite having done this multiple times by now, both naked and with Damien always aroused at the sight of Celeste’s body, Damien is still yet to do anything. He usually washes her body from head to toe, her hair too if he needs to, washes himself, and then lets the bath drain as he sits Celeste down to dry her and then himself. Celeste always remained quite tense, avoiding eye contact as if he could do something to her at any moment, and with them now in a more intimate position, she has good reason to feel that way.

Regardless, he follows the usual routine. He runs the washcloth along her shoulders, her arms, her legs, her back, her stomach. He dips it in the water, only to lift it again and let the streams of water drip along her body to rinse away soap suds.

But, he lets his hands wander a bit too. Lets them linger at her waist and her chest. Rubs the pads of his thumbs into her shoulder blades and leans forward to get closer to her.

She squirms slightly when he presses a kiss to the nape of her neck. This was the only meagre protest she could put up; one present enough to show her discomfort, but also one too fearful and insignificant to stop Damien from what he was doing. The fact she put up any resistance at all made his chest feel warm. 

He guides his hands down to her waist to shuffle her closer so her back is flush against his front. More kisses are littered across her back and shoulders and neck. She lets out a breath she’s likely been holding for a while, only to fail holding another one as Damien’s hand attempts to slip between her legs. She quickly locks them shut.

“Now now, Celeste,” he tuts. “Be a good girl and part your legs for me. How am I supposed to wash down there when you keep yourself curled up like this, hm? It's the only place I haven't cleaned yet.” But, despite his gentle coaxing, her thighs stay defiantly pressed against one another. He sighs, resisting the urge to grin. “Do you know how easy it is to develop complications without proper hygiene? Urinary infections, vaginitis, itching… Of course, I would have no problem treating you for any of those after an in-depth examination to check…”

And just like that, her tense and trembling legs part just enough for his hand and wrist to slip though. 

“Ah, there we go. Thank you,” he hums contentedly. Celeste’s legs are already beginning to clench again, retreating back to their curled up position, but if anything, that's just trapping his hand in place.

He begins by spreading his fingers apart so he can rub along the very outer lips of her vagina, closer to her thighs than her soft, warm centre. Even that makes her jitter, so aware of his every movement. 

“How do you usually wash yourself here, Celeste?” He asks, leaning his head forward to rest upon her shoulder so his mouth is right next to her ear. She turns her head away. “I want to make sure you know how to do it properly.” The pads of his fingers rub up and down, creeping further inwards each time until they rest at the edge of her outer labia, the barrier between pale, soft peach and warm, fleshy pink. “There are so many folds down there, so you need to be quite thorough.”

His index finger rests firmly on one side while his pinkie and ring finger press on the other so he can spread her apart. That leaves his middle finger free to explore, and he guides it along accordingly as he speaks.

“The inner labia, for example.” He traces along its bumpy edge. “The outside of it near your skin… and the inside of it near your vaginal opening.” This time, his finger strokes further inwards, prompting Cel to tense her shoulders even more as Damien gets closer to the hole at the centre of it all. He knows these parts of her have nowhere near as many nerve endings as her sweeter insides, but anticipation alone is making her squirm, and he loves it.

For a moment, his finger reaches the very bottom of her vulva, dancing along the edge of her perineum.

“Of course, this part is quite important too,” he comments, almost laughing when she becomes as stiff as a ramrod. Perhaps toying with her ass would be too much for the poor girl today. “But, we can leave that for another time.” Mercifully, he doesn’t move his finger any further down, but less mercifully, he does instead move it to press just above her opening, near a smaller bundle of flesh. “Your urethra should be about here. It’s so small, you can barely even feel it. You wouldn’t want it to get infected, so make sure to wash it gently and often.”

He glides his finger upwards at an agonisingly slow pace, and Celeste, perhaps unwillingly by how quickly she bites her lip to cover it, lets out a pathetic whimper, shuffling her feet and clenching her fingers. One of her hands is clutching her left ankle, her nails digging into the skin and scratching cuts in what Damien assumes to be an attempt to distract herself. The other hand keeps brushing against his thigh, and he wishes she had the nerve to grab that and dig her nails in as well.

“Now, here,” he purrs. Instead of prodding his finger right at her centre spot of pleasure, he diverts it to the side to stroke along the hood of her clit, that soft barrier of flesh barely offering enough protection to stop her from huffing out a shaky breath and squirming some more. He snakes his free arm around her waist and laughs softly. “Bear with me. I know it’s quite sensitive.” He strokes the full length of the hood, periodically stopping to rub gentle lines up and down at her pubic bone. Celeste’s breaths come out in shaky puffs. “But since it’s so tucked away down here, it’s even more important to clean it well.”

By the time his finger has made a full round of her inflamed hood and finally hooked its way underneath to the hard and sensitive nub that is her clit, Celeste has left a few more scratches on her ankle. Her blood always looks so pretty when it mixes with the bathwater.

“There are so many nerves all in this small bundle of flesh,” he whispers, curving the very tip of his finger back and forth. He needn’t tell her that though, for she could surely feel all ten-thousand or so nerve endings being stimulated by just the slightest movement. “You wouldn’t want such a sweet and sensitive thing as this to become infected and cause you pain…” 

Celeste bit her lip to keep any moans from leaking out, but such a struggle was useless when Damien was perfectly satisfied with the infrequent and shaky breaths coming in and out of her nose, and the rapid undulation of her stomach. Cel never had to do much to make him feel aroused, and he was certain she'd been able to feel the hardness of his erection pressing against her back ever since the two had first sat down. Another thing she would often try her best to ignore.

She throws her head back further all of a sudden, unintentionally allowing the most melodic of choked moans to grace Damien’s ears. Her thighs have a vice-like grip on his wrist, but even if she cut off his blood flow and rendered his fingers blackened and dead, he would not stop moving them.

Celeste is a sensitive girl; something he dearly loves. It doesn’t take much to bring her to a glorious climax, and combined with Damien’s skillful fingerwork, the ensuing rush of pleasure is sure to have her legs quivering. As her breaths become shorter and more moans slip past the barrier of her lips, Damien knows she’s soon to become undone. She finally grips his thigh, nails cutting small crescents into his skin, and her body is wracked with tremors all over.

He wishes he could see the sort of expression that’s on her face. Her body is limp against his, and he revels in the feeling of their skin pressing together—of her weight leaning into him. Her legs have lost the strength for her muscles to tense up so instead they slip downwards and her feet slide along the tub until they hit the edge and her knees knock together. Her chest shakes up and down with the most indelible ragged breaths, each one punctuated by soft whines of fearful bliss. If there would be any moment that Damien would be happy to die, this would be it.

His own breathing is slow and laboured as if he’d climaxed himself. Truthfully, he probably could get off just watching Celeste if he concentrated enough or rutted against her back. He’s almost tempted to just fuck her instead, but such animalistic actions could be reserved for later. He's far more refined.

“Ah… I’ve only dirtied you more, it seems,” he sighs out, voice teetering on elation. “I’m terribly sorry for getting carried away.” He moves his finger a hair’s breadth across Celeste’s sensitive nub and it’s like an electric shock has been sent all across her body. A more pathetic moan is dragged up her throat and out her mouth as all of her muscles tense again, and Damien thins his eyes delightfully at the pain registering on the skin of his thigh.

“N…No more, p-ple—” She doesn’t bother finishing her sentence as Damien moves his finger away from her clit, offering one final bit of friction, then she hesitantly limpens again. He couldn’t help but love her for it. The bliss of her orgasm or the fear of the man pressed against her. She tried to choose, he’s sure.

They sit in silence for a few more moments, the only notable sound being that of Celeste’s breathing. Part of Damien would be content to sit like this forever, but he simply wants more.

“My precious Celeste…” He nuzzles his face into her shoulder, delighting when the muscles there tense, as does her whole body. Another breathy whine leaves her throat. He takes his index finger and swipes it alongside the full length of her vagina, feeling the clear difference in consistency of the thin slickness of the bathwater and the thick stickiness of her own fluids. There’s so much of it too that he feels proud. Celeste is such a good girl, getting so wet for him and only him.

“N-No, Damien, please… I said no more—” She begs, voice rising higher with fear and her breathing quickening again upon realising that he intends to torture her further. He has to tighten his grip around her waist to stop her from moving too much. The water is sloshing over the edges of the bathtub.

“I know, I know,” he all but whines, brushing his lips along her delicate skin. “But you’re just so perfect, I have to touch you more. I can’t help myself. I adore your reactions—I wish to see more.” He knows she won’t fight him. She can’t. As his fingers tease her opening, her back presses against him in such a way, he can’t tell whether she’s trying to escape or bind them further together. Regardless, he’s elated, and his erection is equally as stimulated by the added pressure.

He presses his finger inside of her, causing her to let out a few more whines of ‘no’ and ‘please’. The flesh of her insides is hot and wet. Her walls are quick to clamp down the more he advances his digit inwards, almost as if her body cannot help but crave more of him. His cock twitches at the thought of what it’d be like to be there instead.

“It’s not necessary to clean in here,” he continues with his spiel, wriggling his finger further inward and prodding a second one against her hot entrance. “In fact, it’s usually bad to let any water inside of you.” Celeste fails to bite down a moan as another finger sinks in. “But you don’t need to worry, Celeste. I can simply conduct frequent inspections to make sure the worst doesn’t come to pass.” He catches his teeth against her skin and suckles so it’ll leave a mark.

“No, I don’t w-want—that—” Her panicked words are interrupted by a gasp as Damien clasps his hand against her breast, fingers pinching her nipple. He loves this part of her too. He loves every part of her. He wants to touch all of her so, so much. She squirms again, but not hard enough. Damien is overjoyed. His fingers begin working a steady pace in and out of her.

“Does it feel good, Celeste?” He asks, his own voice ragged, yet he manages to laugh. “It feels good, doesn’t it?” He curves both of his fingers so they press into the small, bumpy bit of flesh along the wall of her insides. “Sixty-seven millimetres inwards… Right here, Celeste, do you feel it?” He doesn’t need to ask at all. As he slows his thrusting pace to instead drag the pads of his fingers against that one spot inside of her, she seems unable to bear it.

Her feet uselessly kick outwards so her back is forced to lean fully against Damien’s chest. Her bloodied ankle is too far away now so she instead grasps at Damien’s wrist, too weak or too unwilling to move it anywhere, but desperate enough to leave a few more beautiful scratches. The other grips the edge of the tub. Her chin sinks down to graze her breast bone and her mouth hangs open in a long and drawn out moan that rises and falls in pitch as Damien stimulates the same spot over and over, again and again. He knows exactly how to drive her insane. If only he’d set up a camera… he’d have to do with replaying this heavenly scene over again in his head from memory instead.

It wouldn’t take much more for her to reach another orgasm, already so sensitive from the first and with Damien being so enthusiastic with his fingerwork, she’s all but certain to reach her peak quickly. Damien himself can feel a knot forming in his stomach. To be able to climax whilst he’s not even focusing on his own pleasure brings him clear joy and satisfaction. He and Celeste must be made for each other. The universe must’ve brought them together just because they were so perfect for one another. He mindlessly ruts his cock against the flesh of her back.

His fingers jab at Celeste’s raw insides so relentlessly, she has to clap her hand over her mouth in an attempt to mask her pleasure. Damien wishes she would just let such wonderful noises free, but he's determined to have that happen without his interference. He didn’t wish to bind her hands or stop her from biting her lip, he simply craves the satisfaction he’ll feel when she’s one day so overwhelmed by love for him that she’ll let him hear every single sound. 

Her back arches, and her whole body tenses up soon after. Her walls clench so hard around Damien’s finger, it might just fall off, but he continues thrusting even as he’s sure she’s begun climaxing. A whine leaks past a gap in her hand, and that is enough to send Damien over the edge too, but he doesn’t bother to hide his own raspy moan of pleasure, ropes of white spilling up between his stomach and Celeste’s back.

It takes a few more moments until Celeste’s body finally begins to go limp again in the aftershock of her orgasm, and her hand falls down from her mouth so Damien can hear whines or gasps or sobs or all three tumbling from her lips. Her weight is pressing fully against him once again, her back surely being sullied with his cum, yet she either doesn’t care or is willing herself not to right now. Damien removes his fingers slowly and rests his own body against the edge of the tub, attempting to catch his breath through his nose so he can breath in the heavy odour of sex and the sweet scent of Celeste’s shampoo. She still uses the same one even now.

His cock is still hard, so he’s sure he could go even further right now, but perhaps that might be too much for his poor, beloved Celeste if he were to fuck her over the edge of the bathtub, much as he might want to. He ought to treat her gently in such a blissful afterglow, and of course, it was very important that he maintain a good balance for her mental well-being. Some things, like this, he still wants to savour, so although he’s quick to decide enough is enough for one day, he still grins at the ironic thought that after all of this time sitting in a bathtub, the two of them still need cleaning.

[pierrai]

nen mating season. horny thoughts abt celeste. the fic.

Hello! Thank you for the request! I do love Nelice... and I will always have a soft spot for my sad, little boy Nen. I hope you enjoy despite his misery!! I hope I didn't get anything wrong about Alice... Mayhaps BB should write a Nelice fic so I can know more about how she'd act...

Character: Nen, Alice Word Count: 1193 Scenario: Mating season Nen Warnings: Slight NSFW, Nen's usual level of angst and self-loathing, implied past non-con

Nen

Nen absolutely hated this feeling.

He’d experienced it before, yes, but usually, he was alone. He’d crawl into a lake, sink to the bottom and curl into a ball until the cold comfort of the water had cooled the heat in his loins. For as long as it could at least. It only happened twice per year, lasting a couple of months, and during those months, the heat would come and go in waves every couple of days in a way that annoyed him more than anything else.

He hated this natural instinct in him that told him he needed to breed. He didn’t want offspring. He had no interest in things such as ‘sex’ to begin with. He hated the burning heat in his chest… the fuzzy heat in his mind… Anything hot was bad. The cold and damp had never hurt him.

It was difficult to default to his usual routine now of hiding away and waiting. There was this… this… complication.

The human woman, Alice.

He hadn’t asked to babysit a human, but the job had been forced upon him when she’d stumbled into his forest. If he didn’t watch this human, who knew what atrocities she might commit? Despite her apparent stupidity, she could have any number of tricks up her sleeve. At any moment, she’d drop this innocent act and reveal her true nature, Nen was sure. He didn’t trust her in the slightest, nor did he like her.

Which made it infinitely more frustrating that it was her causing him all this grief right now.

In the past, his heats eventually died down when his body figured out that he was not about to reproduce anytime soon. There was nothing—none of his people—around for him to talk to, let alone couple with. Now. there was Alice, a human, and his natural biology was insistent on telling him that he had to have her.

But, he didn’t want to have her. He didn’t want to have sex—he didn’t even want to touch himself. That was giving into desire, and he didn’t like desire either. It felt weird. It felt even weirder when that desire was so palpable and so clearly directed and this one human.

He really didn’t even like Alice. There was simply nothing to like about her. Apart from being human, she was just strange. She talked to herself even when Nen could hear her (he never made any comments), she grew scared and paranoid at nothing at all (then apologised, which Nen found silly) and she was so absent-minded (how many times exactly had he made sure she didn’t wander off into danger?).

Her stories were strange too. He couldn’t read human scripture all that well, so she read them to him instead. They were full of distrust, and the underlying message always seemed to be something along the lines of never relying on anyone, a message Nen found incredibly ironic coming from a human like her. He might’ve forgotten to think that with how well she told her stories—how nice her voice was to just listen to. So terribly deceiving.

Regardless of what she was like as a person, didn’t attraction to a person require one to feel attracted to their appearance? Nen didn’t like Alice’s appearance at all. Her hair was short and dull. Her expression was often flat or morose. She had weird, round ears that were small and went red when it was cold and couldn’t move around her head like his could. She didn’t have a tail nor any horns or scales. She had scars on her legs that he didn’t want to ask about. Her skin was warm like his, and he didn’t like that either.

Sometimes her smile made his heart race a bit. Her waist and stomach looked soft. Her breasts were pert, and more than once, he’d wondered how it might feel to touch them.

Another reason he didn’t like her. He wouldn’t have to have those thoughts if she was more careful when bathing. Unfortunately for Nen, the image of her raising her arms so she could wash her hair was perfectly preserved in his mind. If he didn’t need to keep watch of her just in case—if she’d just turned away so he didn’t have a chance to look—he wouldn’t have to think about her in the throes of his heat cycle.

He didn’t know what he wanted to do to her. Or maybe he did. He didn’t want to think about that either. His head had been a mess for days, and try as he might to ignore Alice or maybe just ditch her for good, he felt guilty and sad at the thought of leaving her alone (again, something that must’ve been her fault). The best he could do was urge her to not wander off nor go anywhere without telling him, and grimace when she had the nerve to look concerned for him with all his sudden urgency.

He craved the cold water of the lake. He'd scarcely been able to submerge himself for longer than half an hour at most before he'd hear Alice's voice, and he was forced back up to the surface. Or he grew annoyingly concerned, and the same thing happened regardless of whether she'd prompted it or not.

Nen didn’t properly know how sex even worked. He hadn’t kissed anyone nor touched anyone. He hadn’t even been hugged when he was young, so what on earth was he supposed to know about fornicating with another being beyond what the Elders had briefly told him about how you put your thing into her thing and… so on and so forth. He felt much like an animal cluelessly driven by its instincts despite having no experience whatsoever. His body wanted to do something, but he didn’t know how or why.

It was honestly quite scary. Alice was a human. Nen was… half of that. This desire he felt must’ve been his father’s disgusting, human blood compelling him to want this. To want to pin Alice down and breed her, and when it would all be over, she’d suffer the same fate as Nen’s mother and birth another unnatural amalgamation of human and silvaen. It must’ve just been in his blood to repeat the circumstances of his own conception. He really was disgustingly human after all. No wonder they rejected him so harshly back then...

But, he didn’t want Alice to not want him, and he didn’t want to be violent with her either. Maybe he did want to pin her down a little bit, but he wanted her to enjoy it and want him back. It made between his legs hurt with want. A want to see what her pretty face might look like if it had that sort of expression. How it might feel if he really could touch her waist and her stomach and her breasts and between her legs and have him touch him back or kiss him. What it might be like to quench the desire he’d felt many times over, for nothing in particular, that was now so strong for one person.

He didn’t like Alice though, so he didn’t have to give any credence to those thoughts or his desires beyond the fact that his body would naturally want any other living being that happened to be by him before he’d go back to normal and feel none of it anymore. It just so happened to be Alice, and he really didn’t like Alice.

[pierrai]

Hello! A real life anon has requested a list of my OCs that would be better than her own less-than-stellar father! It's really weird, see... all of my OCs seem to be on this list if I remember correctly...

Character: Multiple Word Count: 818 Scenario: Better than bare minimum fathers! Warnings: Basic love and care!

Mira may be cursed, but even that won't stop him from being a better father! He likely didn't think he was even capable of producing life to begin with, so if he were a father, he would treasure his child as much as he possibly could. Though he would likely be clumsy and downright petrified of messing up, he wants nothing more than to love his child more than he was.

Despite being a narcissistic egotist with a god complex, Eliot is also somehow a better father! You probably won't turn out all too great if he is your father, but he will at least be present in your life, reminding you of how blessed you are! You are the child of a God after all, and more importantly, you are someone who can never leave him, ever. If there's one person you'll always have, it's him.

Nen is a socially-inept, forest-dweller but he too is a better father! His own father was not present for a majority of his life, so he would want to at least be there for his own child! He lacks knowledge in raising children, but understands he should at least be patient and try his best to understand if his child is different than himself. After all, it was his own 'difference' that outcast him, and the last thing he wants is for his child to feel outcast and alone.

You don't even need to ask if Jun would be a better father, for the answer is very obvious! He is perfectly supportive and definitely the kind of man you'd describe as 'daddy material' in more ways than one! He is great with kids, being both patient and nurturing, always making sure those younger and reliant on him are taught well and always receive his full support.

Haine may be a demon, but he too is somehow a better father! Depending on the circumstances of your birth, he may not be entirely present, but he will still make sure you're provided for! He is unsure what to think of a child of his making, especially considering how he was raised, but there is still the paternal instinct within him to protect you.

Even as a no-good drunk, Oliver is also a better father! He is far from perfect and is likely to be a problematic father, occasionally losing his temper and yelling, but his guilt will always catch up to him, and he'll always apologise, promising that he loves you and that, next time, he will be better. Raising his own child would be difficult, but perhaps it may even change him for the better. It's the thought that counts, and he certainly values you and shows his love when he can, as clumsy as it may be.

Damien, despite having the blood of many on his sullied hands, is also a better father! His own parents weren't supportive of his hobbies, so Damien is sure to be very enthusiastic when it comes to yours, no matter what they are! No matter what horrific and tortuous past-times he partakes in, he will always find time for you. You may be subject to his own little experiments from time-to-time, but you should turn out fine!

It is amazing and depressing that even someone such as Alastor would make this list, but thanks to his egotism, he would value a child born of his own making a fair amount! He may see you more as an extension of himself than anything else, but if you ignore that and his frequent visits away on 'business', he isn't a horrible father! He may give you a bloated self-image but... confidence is a good thing, isn't it? You deserve anything you so desire, as he always reminds you, and though he doesn't always deliver on his promises, he does enough to at least be better than (REDACTED).

Orion, quite obviously, is a good father. He was raised with many siblings, so baby-sitting troublesome children isn't anything new to him. You will likely turn out very well-behaved, as Orion will instil discipline in you from an early age, but this doesn't mean he won't show you love as well. He's seen first-hand what neglect did to his family, so although he isn't amazing at it, he is trying his best to show that he does love you and acknowledges your achievements.

Peri is a crazy, sociopathic half-breed, but even he makes this list! He is callous, weird and sometimes disappears for days on end, but above all he is fun! He will randomly take you to the craziest of places and the most beautiful places, so he is definitely spending time with you unlike some I can (but won't!!) mention! Peri may not be good with recognising your emotions in a sane way, but he will try, and that's more than can be said for (not mentioning names!!) some!

Florin is also a better father! He is not very caring nor tactful, but he would love his child the same way his own father did. Namely, by throwing his ludicrous amount of wealth at his child, which is more than what can be said for someone I know who often skimps out monetarily! Florin's love language is that of gifts and money, so his child could really count themselves very, very loved...

[pierrai]

A Collection of Letters

I have found some letters left behind somewhere, so I have decided to post them on my blog. I do hope the intended recipient is happy to receive them <3

[pierrai]

Alaine isn't canon.

[pierrai]

Difficulties of being in a relationship with your OCs! What are some things about them that their partner might see as their bad side or something they don't particularly like?

Hello anon! Thank you very much for your request! I'm writing something short tonight (I think! I write the A/Ns before the imagine so I'm hoping it isn't over 1.5K!) because I'm a bit tired and my health is failing, but I hope you enjoy! I included Peri and Florin too because I like them and want to write a bit about them! Hope you don't mind!!

Character: Multiple Word Count: 2526 Scenario: Difficulties of being the S/O of OCs Warnings: Unhealthy relationship dynamic, mentions of death, abuse, alcoholism

For Mira, his most glaring negative aspect is easy to guess. He is, of course, cursed, and so being his partner will naturally come with the heavy downside of hoping he doesn't accidentally (or purposefully) kill you one day along with the rest of humanity.

More subtly however, Mira's downsides range from something as basic as his simple mindedness, to the more complicated existential crisis he's always mulling over.

He is, somehow, both dense and attentive. He can pick up on some emotions yet completely miss others. Sometimes he just needs things explaining to him a couple of times before he's sure he's understood it, so if you're someone with little patience, he's likely to grate on your nerves occasionally.

He is also an indecisiveness people-pleaser. If you want him to make a decision on something, he's more likely to awkwardly smile and ask what you think rather than just giving you the answer he'd actually choose.

Above all, Mira just wants to be liked, and for as long as he can remember, he's done his best to achieve this want. This can likely make him seem easily swayed at best or two-faced at worst, and maybe someone with a firmer sense of identity might become irritated at someone who is always subtly trying to stay liked rather than being themselves.

Eliot, again, has obvious flaws, though his are definitely centred around his personality in a more severe way than Mira rather than anything world-destroying. Not many people like Eliot as a friend, let alone as a partner, and if he is your partner, you're in for an even more burdensome task.

Eliot's insistence that he's a god can already be difficult to handle as is. He's incredibly narcissistic and seems to think the world should revolve around him and do as he pleases, and that includes you.

Even if you could read his mind and know his every desire, he's still likely to get upset at you for one thing or another. Even if he really likes you, that doesn't bar you from his haughtiness, which can become quite annoying if it's something you're likely to always take too seriously.

On top of that, Eliot's past has given him abandonment issues that definitely push past the barrier of severe. This combined with his pre-existing god complex means he can become incredibly possessive and controlling, wanting to keep you in place so that you never leave and believing he is entirely within his godly right to do so.

It's difficult to break through to the more vulnerable and caring side of him without bringing a hammer down on the fragile glass of his ego too. For some partners, the reward of Eliot's undying loyalty just isn't worth the trouble.

Someone reserved like Nen doesn't have any outwardly problematic issues. In fact he's very intent on avoiding most people, both out of fear and introversion.

He's not particularly outgoing or adventurous however, and is often just downright moody. Sometimes it might feel like he's actively trying to keep himself trapped in his misery rather than wanting to cheer up, which might be annoying for someone impatient enough not to see why he might be doing that.

If the person he finds himself with is someone who needs a lot of verbal communication, then Nen simply wouldn't be able to fit that role. He'd prefer listening rather than butting in with his own thoughts; he's perfectly fine sitting patiently while someone else prattles on so he can be relieved of the burden of carrying on the conversation himself. It's just not his way.

If his partner can handle his muted responses and not find themselves discouraged into thinking he's bored or disinterested, then he's perfectly happy as well.

Being a demon should be enough of a difficulty in a relationship with Haine.

Regardless of the circumstance under which you enter a relationship with him, he's spent near half a millennium hunting people down and pushing them towards their demise so he can devour what's left, and so being with him romantically is bound to present a plethora of issues.

He's almost definitely made you suffer in some way. If Haine ever had the inkling that he liked someone, he'd seek to sabotage those feeling immediately, convincing himself that he simply feels hatred instead all while he eggs himself into hurting you more and more to confirm that. Getting him to finally admit that he loves you would result in enough trauma that perhaps you won't feel the same by the end.

But if you do, and if you decide you can forgive him and stay with him despite what he's done, it still won't be very easy. It's hard to teach an old dog new tricks, and Haine is no different; he's so stuck in his ways that getting him to accept that he doesn't have to have it out for everyone will take time.

Haine's bad side is simply that he's lived a life of cruelty for far too long, and it's easy for him to go back to it when he's feeling lost. Whether that cruelty is regrettably directed towards you or other people, it's bad nonetheless.

Jun may be one of those character where being called 'too nice' or 'too giving' isn't a way of bragging about having no downsides, and instead actually is a downside.

There really isn't much to complain about when it comes to Jun on a surface level, and even if you get closer to him to the point of being in a relationship, the positive still vastly outweigh the negatives, but that doesn't mean the negatives aren't there.

Jun really is too giving, in a way that probably ends up jeopardising not only his own wellbeing, but the wellbeing of anyone who decides to become invested in him as a person.

Really what he needs is for someone to tell him that he simply can't be expected to solve everyone's problems just to satisfy some past regrets of his. Sometimes his constant 'do-good' ethos can be more frustrating than it is helpful to those who actually care about him.

Being in a relationship means you've broken through his near-impenetrable walls, but it doesn't mean you've stopped him from slowly building them back up.

For someone who's always so eager to hear about your issues, he's always quick to downplay or downright ignore his own, even if you insist that he's not burdening you in the slightest. To avoid the relationship being incredibly one-sided when it comes to talking issues through, it might feel like you need to force him at times to simply say what's bothering him. It's not a dealbreaker, but it's certainly a running theme in the relationship.

In the noble society he lives in, there aren't many who would see Oliver as a suitable marriage candidate, but even if he were amongst the common people, he likely would have difficulty finding love as well. His childhood was marred with difficulties that carried on to his adult life, so he's not the most cheerful person to be around. He often decides it's better to drown his sorrows in booze rather than work through them.

Since he was paid little attention as a child, Oliver has never properly learnt to regulate his emotions properly. He is easily upset and angered and lashes out more easily when with people he's closer to. It's only the purposeful distance he keeps from others that keeps his impulsivity in check, but if he were to actually like someone, he'd find it difficult not to be selfish with them.

His reliance on alcohol to not only vent out his sorrows whilst drunk, but also forget them come his morning hangover probably wouldn't be easy to handle. Oliver is quite depressed and oftentimes won't listen to reason. If you're the upbeat type, he's likely to just rain on your parade with his pessimism. He's also filled with insecurities, meaning he'll end up insulting not only himself but probably also you when he feels like he's being picked apart. Over all, he just needs a lot of emotional care and delicacy, which may be a bit too much for some.

Damien is what many would label a 'psychopath' if they were to know his true nature, though he would contest this. With that title alone, it should be obvious what difficulties would come with being his partner. If you've gotten close enough to him where he actively wants you to be his partner, you've gotten close enough for him to reveal every part of himself to you.

Damien cares little about secrets in a relationship. He's willing to be an open book (perhaps a little too open) and spill all of his feelings. Sometimes, it might feel like he's rambling, actively describing how he feels in the moment as if he and you are both specimens he needs to examine. He loves gaining new knowledge, and this pursuit of knowledge extends to understand love and affection too. He isn't afraid to push the boundaries on his version of love and see where it leads him, and neither is he afraid to push you in oftentimes cruel ways to see how you tick as well.

His love is simply overwhelming. Unless you're the type to feel comfortable under his sick and twisted depths, you'll end up drowning instead. Damien has plenty of love to give and plenty of ways to show it, but not all these ways are fun or loving (again, he begs to differ), so for a weak-willed partner, his 'bad side' would often be apparent and all the more inescapable.

Though seemingly smooth and charismatic, Alastor would make for a far more difficult lover than one might think. He's selfish, egotistical and greedy. He wants the world to pay attention to him, and you even more so. He'll have a lot of hypocritical 'one for thee, another for me' rules that you're bound to grow frustrated with, and unless Al is worn down to complete loyalty, he'll mostly treat you as expendable.

Al can become easily jealous if you treat him the same way he treats you and will make this known. He's not above threats and manipulation, so even if you're as sly as he is, he'll somehow find a way to trump that.

Even in love, he must compete and constantly prove his worth. It's hard to get him to fully focus on having a partner and doing what's best for you when there are other tempting things out there for him to set his sights on.

You would have to work around or simply get used to not always being Al's number one priority, while also being expected to hold him as yours.

Orion, despite having a cold exterior, is actually well-liked by noble ladies and lords. Being both capable and from a wealthy and powerful family, there is little reason to not want to be his partner. But, this is only the perspective of most nobles who have both their family's shallow interests at the forefront of their mind. For a normal person, a man from a wealthy family who values noble traditions might not be ideal.

Orion is actually somewhat of an outlier in his family when it comes to upholding tradition, likely thanks to his experiences with Alastor, but although he doesn't value the family legacy as much as his parents and can see when placing it before his family's actual well-being is harmful, he values it enough to turn a blind eye when taking action might jeopardise his position.

Orion is dedicated above all to his work in making sure he lives up to his parents expectations. The main issue with being his partner is that it will often feel like he's cheating on you with his position. He's married to work more than any one person, and the time he spends working long nights and early mornings means he'll often leave you to your own devices.

He is somewhat of a coward, keeping up his persona as a dutiful noble lord rather than allowing himself any sort of pleasure, selfish or not, which also ends up being less selfish on his part when it harms those he's close to.

Being Peri's partner requires, on some level, for you to be abnormal. There's a particular sort of resilience you need to withstand someone like Peri, not because he's intentionally evil, but because traits of his race and his upbringing have made him provocative towards humans.

Peri can seem both dense and very perceptive. He'll poke and prod until he's gotten a reaction that entertains him and enjoy figuring out why he got one such as that and how he might be able to get it again. Then, he'll conveniently forget information and suddenly remember it later when it'll hit the hardest. As his race is one that cares little for grievances commit towards each other (they see this mischief as fun more than anything) Peri is much the same.

He isn't the type to harm others out of some sadistic want nor do anything extreme; his decades living amongst humans has at least given him some social grace and empathy, and he's hardly about to kill or maim anyone) but he is very casual about matters that other would handle with more tact. He'll easily be the bystander who lets atrocities happen. He is eccentric and needs someone able to withstand him or simply keep up with him. You would also have to reconcile with the fact that Peri, who's lifespan is a lot longer, will love you closer to the way a human loves their pets than a person loves their partner.

Though a prince, Florin doesn't have the fairy tale disposition of one. He is obsessed with wealth and flaunts his money and status whenever he can. He is very loose with himself and those he cares about, often not even seeing why what he's saying or doing might be flat out insensitive or ignorant. He is simply a man with a ridiculously extravagant amount of wealth and privilege, and his personality reflects this.

It would be hard for any partner to get close to liking Florin, but especially if you've ever suffered any sort of hardship. Florin is someone who's never had to struggle for anything and has had everything handed to him on a silver platter. He'll make fun of those unfortunate enough to be poor and mock them for not being born the way he was. He'll also have absolutely no clue why doing so might make people mad. He thinks that, especially with you, if he just throws money at whatever problem he's caused, it'll solve itself. Money always made him happy after all.

He expects you to do as he wants much like the servants that trail him around. He won't mind if you don't (he might even be amused, but being the subject of Florin's amusement isn't much better) and doesn't lash out like some nobles do when they can't get their way (he's more likely to playfully whine) but being expected to be as his beck and call is bad enough to begin with.

[pierrai]

Could I... Request a short fic of a yandere (Bottom!) Orion... Thinking about going so far as to use his looks to charm his beloved because a shallow connection is still better than no connection. Even if they like him just for his body, it's still something, isn't it? ^^

Hello anon! Thank you for the request! Orion is always quite fun to write for, but I do feel bad for him here! I hope you'll enjoy! It's a bit longer than short, but I'm sure you don't mind!

Character: Orion Catesby Word Count: 1757 Scenario: Yandere Bottom Orion charming a S/O using his looks Warnings: Slight NSFW, Unhealthy Dynamic

Orion

Thoughts like this are clearly unhealthy.

Orion isn't dense enough to not realise this, in fact he's all too aware of it. His thoughts about you just aren't normal, but what he hasn't figured out yet is how to put a stop to them.

He tracks your movements today too as you drift from one side of the room to the other, gathering paperwork and flushing it before laying it down at his desk. He tries not to make this obvious, but he suspects you've long since noticed that his gaze always lingers. You pick a sheet from the top and begin to read out the itinerary for the day, but Orion is too busy focusing on the pleasing hum of your voice rather than what it was actually saying.

He'd personally asked that you work under him. Or well, he'd less asked and more so just appointed you to the position. He felt bad about it, telling himself he'd abused his power, but when you continued with your work without a fuss, he tried to ignore how elated it made him feel to be able to see you on a daily basis. He told himself that he was just relieved to have someone so competent and organised around, but that simply wasn't the case. If only you'd protested your sudden change in station even a little bit, he might have been able to reign himself in.

Over time, the thoughts he'd keep telling himself grew weaker and weaker, and he finally just had to come to grips with the fact that this was how he was. Some kind of obsessed deviant.

"Your Grace?" Your voice brings him out of his thoughts. He'd completely neglected to listen to anything you'd been saying. He'd been doing this more and more recently, drifting off into his thoughts. He was usually so focused, but this must just be another symptom of his obsession.

"My apologies," he says, clearing his throat and bringing his fingers to pinch his sinuses in an attempt to feign exhaustion. "I'm afraid I didn't sleep well last night. Could you repeat the last thing you said?" You smile, politely brushing past his blunder.

"I asked if 5 o'clock is a suitable time for the dinner, Your Grace," you graciously repeat. Of course. That. Perhaps that was why Orion had felt so desperate as of late. Why his thoughts had been pushed to such... derangement. His father's death hadn't been easy to handle. Everyone knew he was sick, but no one expected him to pass on so suddenly.

"Of course."

Scarcely anyone was worried, though they still mourned. Marquess Orion Catesby, now His Grace Duke Catesby himself, was more than capable of smoothly taking over his father's duties. He'd practically been performing them for years now, yet even now, Orion didn't feel ready. He pushed on regardless, not wanting to face the people's disappointment. Now he was worried he'd stretched himself too thin. All this work to do, noble lords to meet and reassure, the grief of his father's death and the burden of reassuring his mother and younger siblings, and above all... this brief curiosity turned sick fascination in you.

"You know, Your Grace, if there's anything I can ever do to help you more, please let me know. It can't be easy in your position." You smile is both warm and knowing in a way that makes him uncomfortable. He nods.

With all these responsibilities suddenly piled on his shoulders, Orion wonders if he might've just been twisted all along. Perhaps this was just the tipping point.

The day of his dinner arrangements, he'd been thoroughly exhausted. He actually hadn't slept well that night, thinking over and over again at what lords and ladies he'd meet, what words he'd have to say to reassure them that he'd do a good job residing over their lands, and what new and raw emotions he'd feel when he caught sight of you.

Somehow though, he managed to survive the whole day. He even kept his hand steady as he raised the final toast, honouring his father and promising to carry on his will. Thinking back, that toast made him feel worse about where he is now, with such despicable thoughts running through his mind.

Alone. With you. In his room.

He didn't plan for you to be there. You just happened to walk back with him. He just happened to invite you in for a drink. You just happened to accept. Why couldn't you have said no...

"I didn't know you were open to this sort of thing, Your Grace," is what you say as your body is pressed tight against Orion's. Orion thinks twice about telling you that he isn't, but you don't sound entirely serious anyway. He's never been so close to you. Does it matter if you have the wrong idea? Who's to say you won't feel different if he lets you do as you please with him? Such thoughts make him feel sick to his stomach, but they don't quell the butterflies already there.

"I'm not against it." You quirk your eyebrows amusedly.

"I won't land myself in trouble, will I?" Don't be ridiculous, he quickly thinks. He wouldn't tell a soul.

"Of course not."

A quick hum of 'good' is all the more you say before you've pulled Orion back down by his collar, using the momentum to roll him onto his back so you're on top instead. Your lips lock with his so passionately he feels he may pass out from how deliriously happy he is, and he hardly wastes any time reciprocating.

He wonders if, from his show of enthusiasms, you must think he does this often: sleeping with whoever he likes for pleasure. He doesn't want you to think that. This affection is for you and you only. His hands tug at your clothes eagerly, and you take the hint, pecking one last kiss to his lips before stripping off your jacket and undershirt. He's always pictured what you must look like under your layers, always tried to quell the thought before he imagined to much, but now he actually gets to see it. He didn't quite realise how filthy his thoughts could be until he was allowed to act upon them.

Regardless of the uncertainty pitted in his stomach, he brings his hands to your waist and revels at the touch of bare skin against skin. Your open mouth meets his. Soon his shirt too is being tugged off his body. You grab handfuls of his chest and he can't stop the muffled moan from leaking out the gaps in your connected lips.

You seem to enjoy such a reaction. Your hands are so deft and skilful that he lets you do whatever you want, only gripping onto your waist or hips or assisting you in unfastening what clothes he still has on. He never imagined himself in this position. It's perhaps the most humiliating position he could imagine himself in, but since it's you who's put him there—you whose hands are running along his skin and you whose teeth nip at his neck—his thoughts of humiliation are overwhelmed by lust instead.

When the deed is done, he feels both elated and severely uncomfortable. His insides are raw and he's completely spent. You're out of breath too but not as dazed as him. He wonders if it's obvious now that this had been his first time, but if you know, you still don't make comment. Perhaps you enjoyed the thrill of using a duke, no matter whether it was right or not.

Orion thinks it's wrong. He thinks it's wrong, but he tells himself doesn't care either. If you want the pride of fucking a duke then he'll be the duke you'll continue to fuck. If that was how he could keep a hold of you then he doesn't want to allow you to claim any other prize but him.

You're now both his colleague and something more. Your day-to-day activities with him are both the same but different.

Sometimes Orion finds himself being intentionally provocative. It'll be late into the evening, dark enough outside that the hearth is burning the same as the candles at his desk. The more the work day dragged on, the more Orion would convince himself that it's perfectly reasonable for him to want to unburden himself of his suit jacket... or unbutton a few buttons of his shirt.

He thinks about how many times he's chastised Alastor for wearing such loose and shameful clothing when he unbuttons far enough down that his chest is clearly on show. He's such a disgusting hypocrite.

And of course, he doesn't have much time to deny what his end goal of all of this is when you glance up from your paperwork and do the slightest doubletake, before asking if he's perhaps gotten a bit too warm. Every second your eyes scan over his body, he grows more excited. A small 'perhaps' is all he can manage to respond with.

And to his gratification, you pin him down on his desk and rip through the buttons of his shirt still fastened the same evening.

The act itself is always so satisfying. Afterwards, in the post-sex bliss, he'll find himself longing to stay close to you for hours longer, ignore all his work and simply exist with you in a deeper way than just fucking each other. When he's alone again is when the regret really starts seeping in, and he questions what he's even doing. He doesn't want to be a trophy, but it's all he'll ever be.

You saw the relationship as something more shallow: Orion was the duke you worked under, and the duke you just also happened to regularly bed, but to him, you were a lot more. He was obsessed with you. Day by day he wanted you more and more, but all he could ever have was this one part of you.

He didn't know if you slept with other people still, and honestly, the thought made him feel nauseous. Instead, he just had to hope the loose way you acted around him was a one time thing and not indicative of some larger trend. He didn't want your hands on anyone else but him, and if tempting you with his appearance was what he needed to do to keep you satisfied with him and only him, then that's what he'd do. Even if you'd been with other people before him, he wanted to have you now. You wouldn't need anyone else if it's always him pinned under you. It's not like he knows where else to go from here anyway, and any thoughts to the contrary are ones that only scare him anyway.

[pierrai]

“This might sound weird, but I like it when you’re sick. Because then you let me take care of you.”

Yandere Jun, please?! Perhaps they're in an unstable relationship where the protagonist has somewhat realised and begrudgingly accepted that Jun's become thoroughly corrupted to the point even eerie comments like this can be said out loud. Maybe they're even angry that Jun has the nerve to say things like this, as if he hasn't made sure that he's the only person they've got left to depend on.

Thank you for the request! I do quite enjoy yandere Jun scenarios... I hope you will enjoy anon! I finally managed to actually write a short fic, haha!

Character(s): Jun Word Count: 1170 Scenario: “This might sound weird, but I like it when you’re sick. Because then you let me take care of you.” with Jun Warnings: Unhealthy relationship dynamic.

Jun

"Oh, don't try to sit up too quickly—here." The moment you try to so much as move, Jun is placing down the freshly-steaming soup on the bedside table to fawn over you like an overly-cautious mother babying her child. You grimace when his hands hook gently under your arms to pull you up, but if he notices, he doesn't say anything. Once you're finally sat up against the bedframe, he fluffs your pillow slightly and sits himself back down on the chair he has pulled up alongside your (yours and his, that was) bed.

He smiles warmly, taking the bowl of soup back in his hands, but when you go to take it off him, he moves it away with a laugh.

"I'll do it. You're fine with that, right?" As if you'd let me say no, you bitterly think, but Jun smiles despite your silence and shuffles his chair closer to the bed.

Slowly, he begins spooning the soup to you.

"Careful, it's still hot," he says after the first, and the second spoonful. After the third, he finally trusts you and says nothing, looking pleased when you gulp it down more slowly. The soup tastes good. Jun wasn't a bad cook, in fact, he was quite good, but you still didn't feel much like eating.

You'd fallen ill about two days ago, and since then, Jun had insisted on being the most overbearing mother hen he could be. He was usually quite overbearing anyway, but now, he was infinitely worse. You hadn't even been able to wash yourself on your own, and it had taken a not-insignificant amount of convincing to get Jun to let you use the bathroom on your own. He doesn't mind, he'd said. We've seen each other naked before! It won't be embarrassing considering how long we've been together now. He was joking, but you felt more unsettled than comforted. He did relent eventually though, but even then, he'd still hovered outside.

Now, you weren't allowed to eat on your own either. Jun always looked after you when you were ill, but what once was a heart-warming gesture had turned into something unbearable now that he was... like this.

You'd long since adjusted to his obsessiveness with you. The change between the good man you'd once known and relied on to the man who didn't let you out of his sight for more than an hour at most was so subtle, you didn't think of escaping till it was too late.

After about the sixth spoonful, you're still not even halfway through the soup he'd made. It's becoming difficult just swallowing it down. You're trying to ignore how Jun is looking at you—smiling at you oh-so-tenderly like he's the happiest man on the planet. It made your frustration more evident. During a lull while you're trying to slowly swallow down another spoonful, he stops and lowers the soup down to his lap.

"This might sound weird," he starts bashfully, "but I like it when you're sick, because then you let me take care of you."

You almost can't believe what you're hearing.

His voice is so sickeningly sweet and his expression so happy and serene that you wonder if he was even aware of how he was acting anymore. How did he manage to spew such utter nonsense so calmly without seeing the problem? Most of the time, you're used to it. Jun has been like this for a long time. You're used to his delusional talk, you are, but on a day like today, sick both mentally and physically, you just can't handle it.

"As if I have any choice..." The change from Jun's dazed, gentle smile to a pitiful frown is like night and day.

"What...?" Even his voice is more meek, compared to yours which was hoarse and flat and tired. Clearly, he can still recognise when he's being unreasonable. He just needs the smallest reminder to bring the guilt rushing back, and unfortunately, you delivered that today. There isn't much you could do against him but break the delusional bubble he was living in, and oh, how easy that could be.

But, he really has some nerve acting like such a kicked puppy when he's the one trapping you here, making you miserable and wearing you down, day by day by day...

You look down at your lap, not quite able to direct your glare right at him. You're not sure if this frustration has been simmering under the surface for too long now or whether the delirium of your sickness is pushing you to be more confrontational, but the words have left your mouth before you can settle on either.

"Who else would look after me? My friends? They're not around anymore. My family too. The only one who can look after me is you. You're all I have." Your voice cracks as your throat tightens. Under different circumstances, a sentence like that might've been heartfelt. But this wasn't. You still miss them all.

A beat of silence passes through the room before Jun manages to break it.

"Please don't do this again. I'm making sure you're okay and cared for so I just don't understand why—why aren't you happy?" The expression on his face is incredibly pathetic, but he's shown it to you so many times now, the wave of guilt you feel this time is slightly less than it was before. "What am I doing wrong?"

When you don't say anything, he must feel the need to elaborate, because he hastily puts the soup down and shuffles his chair even closer, taking your hands into his instead.

"Your friends weren't good to you, remember? A-All those times you complained about them and told me the terrible things they'd done. You didn't deserve friends like them... you deserved better! Your family too! It was good that you cut them out of your life—they were just dragging you down—using you! Can't you see that?"

The grip he has on your hands is getting tighter the longer he speaks and you say nothing. Your head was already pounding from your fever, but now it hurt even more. Regret tugged at your chest. You just should've kept your mouth shut and said nothing. This was too tiring to deal with right now.

"You know I love you, right?" Jun speaks again, tugging your hands slightly. Finally, you drag your gaze up to meet his wobbly, golden eyes. "I just care a lot about you. I love you, okay? You know that, don't you?"

Your heart wavers. If only you could hate him a little more.

"I know." He doesn't let go. "I love you too." Finally, he smiles again, but it's a smile of barely-concealed desperation rather than relief. He hesitantly loosens his grip until finally your hands can rest on your lap again. He picks up the bowl of soup, and despite the steam still rising from the bowl, he throws you an awkward smile.

"I'll go heat this up again, okay? Stay right there."

[pierrai]

Hello! Just wanted to tell you that your followers love you lots! Your posts always make my day better. <3

Thank you anon!! That means a lot, you're so sweet <3 Receiving requests from you always makes me very happy as well! I hope to post soon! I have many drafts...