#of course when you find out about the dream and his beliefs about it you think he's delusional. he's obsessed with women he barely knows

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

love the idea of an isekai historical fantasy reverse harem where the guy returns to the present and finds out there are modern counterparts to all the women in his harem BUT it's from the point of view of his girlfriend from before he got zapped to the past

[hannieehaee]

LOST IN STEREO

18+ / mdi

summary: after kicking you out of your own band to seek success with the band on his own, vernon finds his plans falling through, all the while you'd reached success on your own. now leading your own label, vernon finds himself having to earn your forgiveness, not realizing how badly he'd hurt you years back.

content: friends2enemies2lovers!vernon, band!au, drummer!vernon, guitarist!reader, unrequited crush (kinda), pining, vernon kicks you out of your band bc ur a girl (asshole, ik), really incorrect music industry terminology (i know nothing about music oops), afab reader, reader becomes a producer after being kicked from vernon's band, seokmin, chan, hannie and kwannie are in the band, smut, penetrative sex, dry humping, fingering, etc.

wc: 8.8k

a/n: i know the summary and content are all over the place, but i promise the story in itself is coherent</3

masterlist | kofi/patreon

"Fuck! Jesus Christ, what are you doing here?"

He winced at the sudden sight of you upon turning a corner in the huge building he was currently exploring, never having expected to bump into you there.

"I work here, Vernon. I would've expected you to do some research on the labels you're auditioning for."

"W-wait. What do you mean you work here?"

"I'm a producer here. What? Surprised?"

"N-no!" he spluttered.

Fuck, you looked good. No, scratch that. You looked beautiful beyond belief.

How long had it been? Three? Four years?

He still felt horribly about it. You know, that whole situation in which he threw you under the bus for his own benefit – only for everything to come crashing down on him immediately after. Not only did he feel like an asshole, but also like a huge idiot. Letting go of a friendship just for a failed attempt at success would go down as the dumbest thing Vernon ever engaged in.

In his defense, he was a teenager at the time. Okay, maybe he was freshly 19, but it felt like the same thing back then. He had been an idiot who dumped his best friend and crush just for a chance in the music industry. What he had thought that to be the smartest move to make for the future of your shared band ended up becoming his greatest mistake. To this day, he still thought back on it with shame.

What sucked the most was how talented he knew you were. That, and the knowledge that he had been the sole person to blame for taking this opportunity away from you – from taking your own band away from you.

He quickly came to realize that it had been a horrible mistake, but it was too late by then. Contractually speaking, you had never really existed within the group. Your friendship had also crumbled soon after, despite your reassurance that all you wanted was the best for the band, even if that meant they'd continue on without you.

At the time, you had been the band's sole music producer, and song writer, and engineer, and you were the one who had a macbook with garage band on it, and–

"Vernon!"

Fuck. Had he been in his head this whole time?

You looked annoyed. Also way more grown and mature than when he last saw you at 19 years old. Fuck, did he mention you looked insanely hot?

"Sorry, I, uh, as I was saying," he cleared his throat, "Of course I'm not surprised. You're the most talented person I've ever known."

And Vernon truly meant his words. As teenagers, your dream to become a successful guitarist had been what inspired him to dust off his drums and go on this adventure with you, employing a few of your other friends to join your wannabe pop-punk band.

You weren't just a dreamer, like Vernon. Vernon knew you weren't just all talk. If anyone could walk the walk, it was you. With your innate ability with not only the guitar, but a myriad of other instruments, Vernon always admired you for your natural talent with music. The insane confidence you carried also did not help matters. It sure did not help the irrevocable crush he'd had on you since he met you. The air of security you always carried with you was something Vernon looked up to and was insanely attracted to. Sometimes it'd make it difficult to be around you without revealing his crush, as he would constantly swoon over your mere presence.

His feelings for you not only as a childhood friend, but also as his unrequited crush, only made the whole situation worse. At first, he dumbly thought that you understood why he had to ask you to leave the band, but it was obvious to him within only a few weeks that what his decision had done irreparable damage to your friendship.

Thinking back to it, he realized how stupid it was for him to even consider joining a label that denied your entrance simply due to your gender. Attempting to create the image the label had wanted to force on them should've been the first red flag. Taking Vernon aside to talk him into kicking you out should've been more than enough for Vernon to break out and whisk you away from a label that clearly didn't deserve you.

Sadly, Vernon had been too invested in making it big at the time. He truly would've given anything to find success as a musician as soon as possible – and apparently you should've taken those words literally.

It had been about a year since you first started the band at that point. Your very low budget garage band consisted of you, Vernon, and a few of your friends. Vernon was on drums, you on guitar, Hannie was bass, Kwan main vocals, Seokmin keyboard, and Chan second guitar. It was the perfect setup, if Vernon had anything to say about it.

The entire composition of the band had been yet another thing that formed all thanks to you. As much as Vernon insisted on saying it had been a shared effort, he now knew better. He needed to give credit where it was due. If it wasn't for you, Vernon never even would've met the guys he now considered his best friends, as you had been the one to take charge of recruiting more members into the group.

Despite that, you allowed Vernon to have the role of co-leader in the band with you. The way you had rationalized it was that you didn't believe in a monarchy; you much more wanted to have a democracy, so you believed that being co-leaders beat a singular leader by far.

This also demonstrated the intense trust you had on Vernon. Except Vernon's greedy mentality at the time did not respect this vision.

Surprisingly, even to his younger self, it didn't take much convincing for the recruiting manager of the label to convince Vernon into kicking you out. Just one signature from him, and all the male members of the group would be secure under a semi-established label that would guarantee them the exposure he'd been wanting, oh so badly, for the past year of being in the band. All he thought of was his future success, completely ignoring that his best friend would be left behind in the process. Simultaneously, he ignored the protests of his members, believing this to be for the greater good for the band.

In your usual supportive fashion, you were a trooper through it all. Your initial reaction was one of confusion and hurt, but it was quickly wiped away under the facade of being happy for your friends. If you couldn't find success with them, you were glad they'd be able to make it big without you.

Vernon made the mistake of believing these words, not realizing that he had just broken all your trust, and along with it your heart.

Then came the other end of the stick.

To no one's surprise, the record deal fell through. Kicking you out before agreeing to sign the group should've made alarms go off in Vernon's head on its own, but everything that came after was somehow worse.

The label had attempted to poke at every single detail about the band, trying to form them into something they could never see themselves becoming. Their looks changed, their sound changed, and fuck, Vernon just could not stop thinking about you throughout it all.

Before it all completely fell apart, they had been able to perform a few shows. Though they were nothing too big, they were far more than the small pubs in which you guys had performed before sighing the contract. Vernon was completely unable to enjoy any of this, though. The blank space on stage kept his mind uneasy. He constantly wondered about you and reminisced about your beginnings together.

This arrangement only lasted a few months. That was when everything truly went to hell. With lack of cooperation both from him and the rest of the guys, it wasn't too hard to get the label to drop them.

It just wasn't a match. Vernon would be the first to admit that greed got the best of him. Taking the very first signing offer that they got had been too naive of him, leading the band to be labeless and without a lead guitar and female vocal. And also leaving Vernon without a best friend.

A few years were spent attempting to break out once more, only achieving certain virality online through the first year of trying. It wasn't until recent times that Vernon and his band really blew up through some original work of Vernon's they had posted online. That's what actually led to Vernon's current position – touring one of the best labels for people in his genre after having established a solid fanbase online as an independent band.

Since Vernon had lost contact with you soon after kicking you out of the band, he eventually gave up on finding you (though memories of you would still haunt him). Not having kept up with your individual career, he never knew you actually made it out and into the big leagues on your own. You being a renown producer under an artistic name made sense to him, though. It explained why he had not heard of your name during all that time, and it also made sense with your past experience making music when you were in the band. Hell, you were the one who taught Vernon everything he knew about producing.

Despite being incredibly glad that his mistake hadn't made you lose your love for music, Vernon still felt disheartened at seeing you. In another life, the two of you would've made it here together, hand by hand and as the best friends you'd always been (hopefully even more by now). But now you were here, successful but at completely different rates, and with you feeling clear disdain towards Vernon's mere existence.

You simply scoffed at his compliment, rolling your eyes.

"I don't need your praise, Vernon."

Well, it seemed like he couldn't really win regardless. It also didn't help that he felt like a total loser standing in front of you, now aware that you had made a name for yourself.

He had heard your artistic name before, but since you apparently stuck to being a producer rather than be on stage, he never put a face to the name.

"I, uh, are you one of the producers we're auditioning for?"

"Yeah. Good luck with that, Vernon," you seemed far too pleased with yourself. There was venom in your eyes Vernon had never seen before in all those years he knew you.

"Listen, I-"

"Whatever you're going to say about our past, you can save it. Nothing you can say can make up for what happened. I won't get in your way during your meeting with the label. Only because I still love the rest of the guys," you softened a bit, before getting that serious look in your eye again, "But I also won't do you any favors."

Gulping, he responded, "Yeah, I, uh, okay. I understand."

Without any further comments, you bumped into his shoulder as you walked away, leaving a breathless Vernon behind.

He was well aware that you hated him, and with good reason too. Yet he couldn't help the rapid beating of his heart throughout every second of your interaction. With the passing of years, he had thought he was fully over his crush, but it all just came crashing down on him all at once upon your first meeting.

Now he really needed to get into this label. Not only for his career, but to somehow get you back.

"Dude! Did you see Y/N? She stopped by the studio earlier to say hi. Man, I told you you shouldn't have gone off on your own. I can't believe you missed her."

As much as Vernon wished Seokmin had been right about Vernon missing you altogether, he did wish your first encounter with him had been around other witnesses. Maybe that way your words to him would've had a little less venom in them.

"Nope. Bumped into her in the hallway while I was looking around."

"Shit ...", said Chan, "How was it?"

"Brutal. She hates my ass."

"Completely understandable, you know, considering," chimed in Seungkwan, sitting on the couch of the conference room's waiting room.

After a short tour of the building the label was homed in, the group was directed to wait in the waiting room as the execs arranged the paperwork necessary to sign them – should they come to an agreement. Vernon had made the dumb mistake of asking if he could explore the place a bit on his own, never having imagined he'd bump into you on the way. At least now he knew you'd be one of the higher ups waiting for him on the other side of that door.

"Dude, stop. I've been feeling like a dick ever since it happened", Vernon groaned into his hands, suddenly snapping up to look to his members, "Did you guys know she was working here? Did you know she was the Hissfit?"

"We didn't really keep contact," Seokmin shook his head.

"Yeah. I knew of Hissfit, but I never would've guessed it was her. Damn, that's kinda hot of her," said Jeonghan.

Jeonghan's comment peeved off Vernon a bit, but he had bigger things to worry about at the moment.

"Do you think she hates all of us, or is it just me-"

They all varied in their response, but the consensus was that Vernon was the only member you still saw with venom in your eyes.

"Yeah, man. It's just you," confirmed Chan, "I thought she'd hate me for taking over lead guitar after she left, but she was pretty nice to me just now."

Vernon was about to air out his endless concerns and frustrations at the stupid acts of his 19-year-old self, but had to close his mouth back up when the door to the conference room suddenly opened, revealing you and two other men close to your age.

"Come on in, guys," said one with shaggy hair and a strong build, gesturing at the boys to come in.

All five of them took a seat on one side of the gigantic table that took up most of the space in the room while you and the two men took a seat on the opposite side.

You looked so put together and professional, looking over the papers sitting in front of you while Vernon stared and stared, hoping you'd look his way.

"Okay, first of all, I wanna welcome you guys. I know one of our producers, Soonyoung, already gave you guys a quick tour of the place, but I wanted to give you a formal welcome," began the taller guy of the two, "My name is Seungcheol, but you probably know me as S.Coups."

"I'm Jihoon, but you must know me as Woozi," said the shaggy-haired man.

Then it was your turn.

"I'm Y/N. Also known as Hissfit."

Vernon winced when all his members woo'd at you, dapping you up with all confidence in the world despite not having kept in contact with you for the past few years. He wanted to join in, but you seemed too genuinely appreciative of it for him to want to dampen your mood by reminding you of his existence.

"We are the owners and cofounders of Universe Factory Records," added Jihoon.

"We're well aware you guys know our friend Y/N here," Seungcheol patted your back, rubbing it afterwards in a soothing manner, – completely unnecessary in Vernon's eyes, but okay – "but for business' sake, we will put a pin on that at the moment."

"We don't want any good or bad blood getting in the way of business, so we thought it'd be best to not discuss those matters here today," continued Jihoon, "All we care about is giving a passionate group such as your own and opportunity to join us. I can speak for all three of us when I say that you truly fit the core message of our label, and we'd love to sign you."

You nodded along to it all, even holding Vernon's eyes in yours for a few seconds before looking away.

"We'd love that, Woozi-Nim," intercepted Seokmin, bowing his head a bit at Jihoon.

"We just have a few contractual points to get to and then we can get to business, okay?", Seungcheol clapped his hands decisively.

A few moments later, your HR guys, Jun and Minghao came in to oversee the contract with the eight of you, making sure both parties understood everything written on the fine print. This took about thirty minutes, but ended very amicably.

"Is there a leader to the group who'd like to speak for any modifications you'd like to make to the contract?", asked Seungcheol just moments before the papers were about to be signed by everyone present.

"No, we're more of a democracy," said Vernon, not realizing the irony of his words fast enough.

You scoffed loudly at that, giving Vernon a sarcastic smile.

"Are you sure about that? Any other member who can confirm this fact?", you turned to the rest of the members in mock curiosity.

"Y/N, I-"

"Sorry, it's my bad. I shouldn't have asked," Seungcheol chuckled awkwardly, gesturing to the papers once more, "You can all sign whenever you're ready."

With some hesitation, Vernon signed.

He knew it was the right decision. That this way he would not only get to live his dream with his best friends while being housed under such a successful label, but that he'd also get another chance with you.

It'd just take a lot of work.

One of Vernon's favorite parts about the contract with Universe Factory was the luxury dorms that came along with it.

Being housed in a penthouse with all his friends seemed like one of the most unachievable dreams, yet here he was.

And the best part was that you owned a penthouse of your own right upstairs.

As far as he understood, this was a business owned building, housing any artists who wished to live at close proximity to the label's main headquarters. Vernon's group chose to agree to this form of housing without a second doubt, having always had the dream of living in the capital of the music industry – Los Angeles.

It had been about a month since the signing, and Vernon had caught sights of you far more times than he would've thought thus far. Unfortunately, none of them had gone well for him.

You seemed to be more than happy rekindling your friendship with the rest of the members, but always refused to spend any time with Vernon one-on-one. If at any moment you were left alone with Vernon, you'd scoff and walk out, even if Vernon attempted to call you out on it.

And Vernon's crush only got worse with the time he spent with you (albeit it always was while other people were around). Seeing you so relaxed in your loungewear when you'd spontaneously stop by the dorms to see Jeonghan or Chan (or literally anyone but him) as you laughed and joked around with them was messing with Vernon's head.

You were just so pretty and perfect and put together.

There came a point where Vernon was quite loud about his crush, constantly whining to his members about how much you still hated him. You were the only person to be unaware of it. Hell, even Jihoon and Seungcheol knew, always giving Vernon looks when he'd stare at you a little too long.

Except you never looked his way.

The only times you ever looked at Vernon were to curse him out or blatantly distance yourself from him whenever you got fed up of his presence.

Even now, as you huddled into a corner of the couch when the rest of the guys conveniently (re: at Vernon's request) left the two of you alone halfway through the movie you'd all been watching.

Attempting to be as casual as possible (he wasn't), Vernon slid from sitting on the arm of the couch to try and scoot closer to you, eyes glued to the TV in fear of you leaving if he dared look your way.

"Vernon-"

"Wait! Don't leave! Just stay sitting. I- I won't bother you, okay?," he was quick to apologize, sensing that you'd either scold him or tell him to fuck off.

You nodded, expressionless as you turned your bead back to the TV again, seemingly not too bothered by him.

It was rare for you to not use his exasperation as a reason to tell him off, so Vernon went against his own words and spoke again.

"Will we ever talk again?"

"What?"

He sighed, turning to you, "Will things ever go back to normal? I- Is there any chance you'll ever forgive me?"

"I don't wanna talk about this with you," you went to get up, only to be stopped by Vernon as he got up also, lightly grabbing your arm.

"Please. You have no idea how much I've regretted it since then. At least let me apologize," he pleaded with you.

"It doesn't matter if you regret it, Vernon. You still did it."

Wincing, he tried to come up with an answer that might satisfy you, but the truth was that there was no way for him to reason his actions at that time.

"I'll never not regret it. I .. I wish you were still out there with us, not just producing behind the scenes."

"Vernon-"

"Do you ... do you still play?"

"What?", you appeared annoyed at his interest.

"Do you still play? At any shows? For fun? You were always the best guitarist I'd known. Chan's nothing compared to you," he joked.

You looked down in what seemed to be shyness, "Chan's pretty good. He's gotten so much better since I last saw him."

"It wasn't the same- It's not the same. You were supposed to be there. I love Channie, but the dynamic completely changed when you left- when you-"

"When you kicked me out," you corrected.

He took a few steps towards you, both hands encompassing your arms in order to get you to look at him.

"I kicked you out, and it was the worst mistake I'd ever made. I lost my bandmate and I lost my best friend. I miss you every day. Every time I perform and I look to the front and you're not there, I remember what an idiot I was. You made this. You made the band, you got all the members. Fuck, you taught Channie everything you knew and all I did to repay you was throw you away," his eyes never left yours as he spoke, despite how guilty he felt at seeing the sudden sadness in yours, "Please tell me you at least still play. Please tell me I didn't take that away from you."

"I ... After you kicked me out, I couldn't trust anyone else. If my own best friend was willing to get rid of me like that ... If all my friends stood by and did nothing, then I couldn't trust that someone else wouldn't do it again."

"Y/n, I-"

You stepped away from his hold, creating some distance.

"I didn't want to play anymore, so I started selling my music. That's how I met Jihoon And Seungcheol. They were already on the process of founding Universe Factory. They saw something in me and took me in. We were equals," you explained, "So, no. I haven't played since then, Vernon. I'm a producer now."

It made Vernon miserable to know that the girl he once knew had changed. He understood why, specially having been part of the cause, but he felt even more regretful at knowing that he had damaged your ability to trust so badly. Ever since he knew you, you loved nothing more than to play for people. From talent shows to small shows at local pubs with only twenty people in the audience, you'd always happily sign up if it meant a chance to play for anyone willing to listen. Now you didn't have that in you anymore. All because Vernon had broken your trust.

Vernon chose not to bother you anymore after that. You seemed happy with your new life. Vernon seemed to be the only source of negativity in your life, so he chose to step aside and let you live your life. He would no longer try and see if there was any space for him there anymore. If that's what made you happy, then so be it.

It had taken a while, but after four months of being signed into Universe Factory, Vernon's band had finally released their new album.

The rollout consisted of 12 original songs, with a deluxe version including three extra songs coming a few months later. It hadn't been fully fleshed out yet, but the album itself had been a success by all means.

Throughout the process, Vernon had unfortunately not made much progress with you. Things seemed to be a bit more peaceful now that he had decided to leave you alone, but you never once tried to seek him out, so he assumed that this was the end of it. You were happy to ignore him and keep him out of your life, and as much as Vernon wad pained by it, he felt too remorseful by his previous actions to try and bother you anymore.

Vernon was happy to spend time with you whenever studio sessions came up. As one of the main producers of the company, you had been thoroughly involved in the album, which meant that you spent a grand majority of your time in the studio with Vernon and the rest of the band. Though you would rarely engage with him directly, you didn't outwardly ignore him. You remained professional and respectful towards him. He wasn't sure if that was better or worse.

After the grueling process of finishing up the album and releasing it, there was a small lull in the group's timeline. The album did amazingly well, specially with all the promo your label did for them. A tour had even been announced for later in the year, but for now things were quiet. The fruits of their labor were paying off and now everyone got a bit of time to rest before preparations for tour began.

Despite being done with work for a few weeks before getting to rehearsals for tour, Vernon still liked to come around the company and play around with the studios the label had available for their artists. He liked to mess around and try to experiment with new stuff to develop his skills. During the album-making period, he had observed you intently, learning from you without your knowledge.

Today was one of the many times in which Vernon had decided to come around the studios, in search of the one his group used throughout the process of making their album.

That was when he noticed the half-closed door, with the soft strumming of a guitar coming from the inside. He was about to turn around and leave, assuming that someone else had taken up that studio for a bit, but then he heard a melodious voice accompanying the guitar in perfect harmony. It was you.

Even during the recording process, Vernon was yet to hear you sing or play any music. The demos were usually recorded by Jihoon, even when you had vast participation in them. The most he had heard your voice during that time had been when you'd direct the members on how to enunciate a line or two – and even then, Vernon felt enamored. Now here Vernon was, peeking from the small opening of the door as he witnessed you sing what seemed to be an original song.

Your back was facing him as you sat on the floor, simply facing the wall in front of you. Your voice was low, as was your strumming. It was likely you didn't want anyone to hear you. Almost as if you were hiding your skill, not wanting anyone to be aware of it.

Vernon couldn't help but think that this was the consequence of his actions. Did you think you weren't made to perform anymore? Not even in private? Had his betrayal caused this in you? The thought made him sick, knowing how much you loved music.

His thoughts were promptly interrupted by a sudden halt in your playing, hearing your voice speak up.

"I know you're there, Vernon," you said without even needing to turn around to face him.

"I- How did you-"

You began to get up, putting your guitar away, "I heard the door squeak a bit, and you're the only person who would be interested enough in hearing me play to stay and watch."

He knew you hadn't meant it in a self-deprecating way, but the thought of you believing that there wasn't a crowd of people who'd die to hear you perform felt like a punch in the gut.

"You still sound amazing. You got even better, somehow."

"Vernon, stop. You don't have to-"

"Please. Let me at least compliment you. I mean it. You're amazing. It's a huge disservice to the world that you're not out there performing your own music," he chuckled humorlessly by the end, attempting to appeal to you somehow.

Surprisingly to him, you chuckled back in a similar manner, choosing to recline against one of the tables in the room rather than leave now that Vernon was speaking to you – something you'd usually do if you were ever in a room alone with him.

"I've never been much of a soloist. You know that."

Taking a leap, Vernon chose to lean against the table too, taking a seat close to you.

"I'm sure people would be lining up for a chance to work with you, c'mon."

"Not, you, though. Right?"

He groaned, throwing his head back in frustration, "Listen ..."

"I'm kidding, Vernon, relax."

That surprised him. Maybe the time had allowed you to feel comfortable enough to tease Vernon about it. Fuck. You were speaking to him. That in itself was more progress than he'd had in years.

Usually, he would've responded with a joke back, but he decided to drive his point home instead.

"I'd kill for you to even consider playing with me again."

Your mood visibly shifted at that, squirming a bit and looking down at his words.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

This time your sarcasm didn't deter him. He had an opening. You were talking to him, after months of only doing polite small talk with him whenever you were forced to. Maybe it was time he was a bit stern too.

Standing up, he stood directly in front of you, towering over you a bit more than usual since you were leaning against the table.

"Listen. I know I hurt you. I know I did the worst thing I could've done to the person I loved most, okay? I think about it every day. I thought about it every single day after you cut me out of your life – which you had every right to do," he winced at the thought, "Seeing you again, knowing you made it big and that you're still making music made me so glad. So glad that even though I wasn't ever going to be part of your journey anymore, you still had music by your side. I ... I wish I had done things differently. I wish I hadn't acted so stupidly and been so easy to convince to leave you behind just for a taste of success. I deserve every bit of your hate for it, but- fuck ... but I will always keep doing everything I can to see if maybe one day you might forgive me."

"Vernon, I-"

"Wait, I'm not done," he interrupted you with a finger in the air, "I tried looking for you, you know? After you disappeared, I tried to get you back somehow. When we got dropped from the label just a few months later, I tried to find you, but you were nowhere. I wanted you back from the moment I made that stupid decision. I'd do anything for you to be up there with us on that tour, for your name to be on that album cover. Somehow we ended up making music together again, just with all this baggage in between."

"Vernon."

"What? I- Honestly I don't know what you could say to all my word vomit. I already know you hate me. Nothing I do will ever change it," he looked down with a sad look on his face.

"I don't ... I don't hate you."

His head snapped up to look at you.

"You- What?"

"I don't hate you," you repeated, "I don't think I ever did. I never left music completely, I just ... I felt so disposable. I didn't want to work with anyone who wasn't you, and you saw me as a replaceable asset. I didn't even feel like your friend at that point. I mean, it was so easy for Chan to go from second guitar to lead and just completely erase my existence from the band ... Erase it from your life."

"N-no. You have it all wrong," he got closer to you, grabbing onto your shoulders to make you look at him, "Nothing was ever the same. That's why it all failed. I couldn't function without you."

"Hah," your eyes wandered away from his in an avoidant manner, "I would've killed to hear that from you back then."

You took a breath, appearing to ponder whether or not to say your next statement, ultimately deciding on the former.

"I used to like you so much back then. Did you know?," you laughed at yourself, "It was, uh, one of the reasons why I left. I felt like I got rejected in every way. As a friend, as a bandmate, as ... as the girl who liked you."

Fuck.

It had been worse for you than Vernon ever imagined.

The same way he felt dejected at your disappearance, having been practically in love with you at the time, you must've felt that pain a hundred times over. The guy you liked threw you away so easily, of course you were going to assume Vernon would never return your feelings under those circumstances.

But you had it all wrong. Oh, so horribly wrong.

If you had ever given Vernon any indication of you liking him, he would've dropped everything for you. He knew that he should've done so regardless, specially considering you were best friends, but he was extremely immature and dumb at the time. His mind did not reason what effect his actions would have. At the time, your claims about being okay with leaving the band as long as it was for the best of its future were completely taken at face value by Vernon. Never would he have guessed that you had just said that to appease to him just because you liked him.

His prolonged silence allowed you to speak up once again.

"I really did want to try and root for you after you signed that contract, but seeing the guy I was so head over heels for throw me aside so easily settled on my mind after a few days. I realized there was no point either way. We would never be bandmates again, and you would never like me back."

"I didn't- I ... I had no idea. Fuck," he breathed a heavy breath, furrowing his eyebrows, "I was so in love with you. I'm ... I'm so incredibly in love with you."

He knew he fucked up in saying it, specially going by the shocked expression on your face. Your eyes were wide and your mouth agape.

"I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm so sorry. I know this isn't what you want to hear. I- I shouldn't have said anything, but I can't help myself anymore. I've loved you for years. I've been miserable thinking about how badly you hate me when you haven't left my mind for a single day. I love you. I'm sorry, I just ... I love you."

"Vernon ..."

He threw his hands up in frustration, "Don't. Fuck, I already know what you're going to say, just ... just don't-"

"Vernon, shut up!", you grabbed onto his head, making him lower himself down to you a bit and look into your eyes.

Vernon wasn't quite sure what your original plan was, but he saw you open and close your mouth a few times to speak, ultimately giving up to do something that would break Vernon's mind for the upcoming future.

Your lips against his own was something he thought of an embarrassing amount of times during his teens (and even now during his 20's), but it was always something he was certain would never happen. He had never actually planned for what he would do if you ever actually granted his wish. And so he remained limp against you for a few moments too long, making you pull away at the lack of reciprocation.

This was something he just couldn't have. In no world could he ever allow you to ever feel like he didn't want you. Never again. Before you could fully pull away, his arms wrapped around your waist, bringing you to your tip toes so that he could kiss you properly. When your feet flattened on the ground, his lips chased after yours, leaning down to keep himself connected to you.

The kiss was soft and delicate. There were some breathy sighs that were making Vernon's head feel fuzzy, but the kiss was innocent otherwise.

Or at least that was how it started.

Vernon wasn't sure who licked their way into the other's mouth first, but that bit of information didn't matter too much. What mattered was that gorgeous moan you let out when his tongue suckled on yours. What mattered was the way you let your body become limp against his touch, letting him back you up against the table and sit you on it. What mattered were your hands pulling at his hair in sheer desperation for more.

You weren't the only culprit, though. Vernon was equally, if not more, desperate for you. His mind and his body were in a battle, with one wanting to pull away and discuss what your current feelings for him where, and the other fighting the urge to flip you around and bend you over the table.

Thankfully, you made the decision for him.

Your hands snuck under his shirt, delicate fingers gracing the skin of his stomach before allowing your hands to freely feel up his abs and chest. Shuddering, he became lightheaded at the simple contact, having been in such constant want for your touch all these years that even the simplest of contact had him losing his sanity. Unlike you, his hands were not as daring as yours in fear of scaring you away somehow. They remained rubbing your clothed waist and hips, far too shy to do what they really yearned to.

Images flashed in his head of every nasty thing he wanted to do to you. Every single night in which you'd somehow invade his mind with a fog of lust came running back, a myriad of ideas making it all the harder to hold back. He wanted you to have control. As hard as it was to just sit there and will his already prominent boner into staying still, Vernon could not act on any desire. You had to be the one to initiate it.

And thank fucking god you did.

Within some short moments, your hands threw off Vernon's shirt, pulling him closer to you as you became even more shameless in how you felt him up. Seeing his hands remain stagnant on your waist, you disconnected his lips, staring into his own with a blissed out look on your face.

Fuck.

You were already fucked up. Your eyes had nothing but lust in them. They had a hard time not making their way to his lips, which were still dangerously close to your own. He couldn't blame you. Despite being out of breath from kissing all this time, his own lips were already aching to encompass your own again.

Before he could kiss you again with a petulant whine, your hands guided his own to your clothed breasts, pressing them up against his palms with a delicious little whine that made Vernon press his cock against the table under you.

"Touch me? Feel me up? Fuck ... want your hands all over me," you breathed between sensual licks at his open mouth.

Fuck.

Oh, fuck.

How was he supposed to do this?

You sounded so pretty for him ... so horny and needy and just so fucking desperate for him.

You were the prettiest fucking thing he had ever seen – and you were begging for Vernon to feel you up? You were already begging and he hadn't even had the chance to actually touch you yet? Vernon had no idea how he was going to survive you, but he'd just have to will his body into doing so.

He didn't need any further instruction, his hands immediately following the task of rubbing and squeezing at every inch of skin. Every clothed curve was victim to his grabby hands, touching you and pressing you up against him like he'd die if he didn't. Your breathy little moans at his touch only made him feel like even more of a depraved animal.

You kissed and kissed and kissed. It was the nastiest mess of tongues and saliva, but Vernon couldn't help but feel extremely turned on by it. You were so ... so fucking desperate for him. Shameless in your actions, you licked and sucked at his tongue, holding his jaw in place so you could do as you pleased with his tongue. And when he couldn't match your pace due to how foggy his mind was? You stopped him, breathing against his lips that you'd show him how you liked to be kissed just before licking sensually into his mouth yet again.

Having been far too into the kiss, Vernon didn't even notice when you started undoing his belt, hands teasing his cock occasionally by gracing it through his pants and immediately coming back up when his hips tried to chase your touch.

"Baby ... Need you so bad," you moaned at him after a while.

'Baby'? He was 'baby' now?

Vernon couldn't even take a minute to process the lustful voice in which you had called him baby before his poor, weak, lust-ridden brain got distracted by you pulling your own shirt off.

It was almost comical the way in which Vernon froze at the sight. The two gorgeous mounds staring at him, pretty bralette encompassing them as you grabbed his hands and put them on your tits, begging him to touch you there. And Vernon wasn't an idiot. He touched you to his heart's contentment, groaning against your mouth every time you'd arch your back and press your chest up against his hands even more.

You were an entirely different version from the one he'd always known. You were so needy and soft and sensitive, completely unlike the stubborn and cold side of you you had shown him these past months. But Vernon wasn't about to complain when he had you so pliant for him, so whiny as you pleaded for him to touch you more.

His hands tugged and pinched at your nipples, lips swallowing every single cry of pleasure you let out. Your own hands scratched at his chest, with harsher marks being left behind every time he pinched at your tits relatively hard.

Growing easily frustrated, you separated his hands from your breasts, throwing off your bra before beginning to grind against him, encouraging him to push up his hips against your own.

Vernon was already painfully hard at just the privilege of feeling you up, so he was somewhat scared that he might end up cumming in his pants if you kept this up for so long. All it took was one single bump of your cunt against his cock for him to throw that concern aside and grind into your awaiting cunt as the two of you continued to kiss.

Breathless, he pulled away, finally getting to have a view of your nude breasts. That's when he lost control of himself.

He groaned and moaned and made every inhumane noise you could think of as he made love to your tits with his tongue. Never had he ever put so much dedication into anything as he did into making out with your tits. And fuck was it worth it. Your hips sped up against his own, hands burying in his hair as you pressed his head against your tit and cried his name in the prettiest of sighs.

There was no way in hell Vernon was going to last. He needed a saving grace.

Mustering all his willpower, Vernon disconnected himself from you completely, grabbing your hand and walking you over to the couch in the studio. On his way there, he kicked off his already loose pants and threw off his shoes. His original plan was to lay you down on it, crawl over you as he kissed every inch of your body and then worship his way into fucking you missionary, – so he could see and kiss you all throughout, just in the way he always imagined – but you stopped him in his tracks.

Pushing him onto the couch, you sat him down before shuffling your sweats off and straddling him, putting your hands on his shoulders.

"I wanna ride you. Can I?", you asked, getting straight to the point.

"You- you wanna .."

"I've been thinking about this since high school. And ... you kinda owe me, you know, after kicking me out of my own band," you joked.

"If letting you ride me is payback, then I take it back. I regret nothing," this granted him a frown and a slap on his chest, but he took it as a champ, enjoying the familiar banter he once shared with you.

Placing his large hands on your hips, he somehow got you even closer to him, "Ride me? Hmm, baby?", he kissed up your neck, taking advantage of the clear desire he knew you felt for him.

"I, ah ... Nonnie ... Please. Want your cock, it's so big," you sighed, neck tilting so he could have more space to kiss.

"Gotta prep you first, baby."

You shook your head, huffing, "'m already so wet, Nonnie. Wanna feel?"

With no warning, you snuck your hand under the tiny little excuse for panties you were wearing, gathering some tasty nectar for him to taste. He let out a gruttal groan at your taste, feeling lightheaded at the thought of someday having the privilege to eat your cunt until you begged and sobbed for him to stop.

But that would come some other day. Now, he needed to sit you down on his cock before he lost his mind. If you thought you were wet enough, and you were desperate enough to beg for him repeatedly, then who was he to deny you?

Helping you awkwardly remove your panties while he shoved his boxers down as much as he could while sitting, he helped you lift yourself up a bit to line him up, throwing his head back when you instead chose to drag his tip up and down your cunt.

"Baby ... If you don't sit on me, I'm going to fucking cum before I even get to feel you, and I don't wanna embarrass myself like that. So, please let me have it," he begged for a change, eyes squeezed shut as he attempted to make his body hold back as much as possible.

Taking pity on him (or likely just equally as horny), you finally sat down on him, showing very small signs of struggle at his size.

"F-fuck ... Nonnie, it's so big, it's so- Oh ... fuck."

"Nonnie! Feels so good ... Oh, it's so good, Nonnie."

"Baby, need more ... Need you to fuck me. Please? Cock's so fucking good."

"Want it in my mouth, Nonnie. It's so thick n so fucking big. Looks so, fuck, so delicious. Wanna choke on it so bad ..."

These were only some of the filthy expletives you cried out as you bounced on his cock like a depraved girl. You desire for him alone was enough to make Vernon want to give up and dedicate his body to your pleasure, knowing that your gorgeous body would always give him the same, if not more, pleasure in return.

It got so bad for him that at some point, he simply couldn't hold back anymore, his feet settling firmly on the ground before tightening his grip on your hips and beginning to bounce you up and down his cock while his hips canted up with inmensurable speed.

"Cunt's so tight, baby. Never letting you go again. 's all for me, right? Get to have you every day now," he mumbled against your chest, lips chasing your tits every now and then.

"Y-yes, Nonnie. All for you! Missed you so much, Nonnie. Thought of you every day," you hiccuped, back arching to give him better access to your tits, "I was so heartbroken over you ... Never letting you go now. You're mine. Right, Nonnie?"

He nodded and cried at your words, heartbroken just at the thought of your own heartbreak. He had to remind himself that none of that mattered anymore. Now he finally had you. The dam had finally broken and allowed the two of you to end your prolonged animosity and give you a chance to finally be his. Just how he had been yours all these years.

Your love making (if you could even call it that considering the animalistic nature of it) could only last so long before Vernon finally burst, which meant he had to take matters into his own hands and make sure you found your end with him. Reaching between you, his hand searched for your clit, finding it in only a few seconds. Disconnecting his head from your chest, he went back to kissing your neck, reaching your ear so he could talk you through your orgasm.

"Need you to cum for me, okay, baby? Love you so much ... Need to cum together, pretty, yeah?",

"L-love you! So much, Nonnie ... Never stopped."

Those were the last words you managed to let out before your orgasm took over you, whining the prettiest cries Vernon had ever heard. The tightening of your cunt finally allowed Vernon to let go, joining you in your high as neither of your hips halted their movements.

Holding you all throughout, Vernon had never felt as close to anyone else as he did to you in this moment. If you needed to hate him in order to protect yourself from his betrayal, then Vernon fully accepted it. No part of him blamed you for keeping him at an arm's length at all times. Specially if this was the final outcome. Now that he finally had you, he didn't care what journey he had to live through to get here. All he cared about was the gorgeous girl of his dreams crying in his arms as pleasure overtook her.

Your orgasms had been so incredibly intense that you needed some moments to catch your breaths before speaking up. That, and all the emotions that must've been going through your minds.

Holding each other despite the silence, you stayed like that for a few minutes, simply nuzzling against each other as a demonstration of love for one another. Vernon's mind still couldn't believe the reciprocation of your feelings. His heart was still beating far too loud under your touch, but he felt at ease.

"I really do love you," he spoke against your neck, "And I'll never stop regretting what I did to you."

You created a small distance between you to look at him, caressing his cheek in your hand as you spoke.

"I'll never be okay with what you did, but I love you. You were young, and you made a mistake. I can't stand hating you anymore."

He smiled, turning his head to kiss the palm you had against his cheek.

"You can hate me, as long as you love me too," he said. He knew it made no sense, but he also knew you understood.

"I love you," you said again with a smile.

"I love you."

to read short 2.3k word continuation you can go join my monthly tier on kofi or patreon!

content: smut, afab reader, comfort sex, face riding, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 714 (teaser); 2379 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Isn't it unprofessional for you to ask an ex member to join the band again just cause you're sleeping together?", asked Chan as he tuned his guitar absentmindedly.

"For the last time, that's not why I'm asking her. I've wanted her back for years, you guys know this. I'm just rectifying a mistake."

You giggled from your seat on the couch, enjoying that the guys still gave Vernon a hard time for what he had done all those years back.

The news of your relationship had come as a surprise only to a few people. Most of your friends had seen it coming from miles. The sexual tension was just too high, or at least that's what Jeonghan had said when you first broke the news, Seungkwan nodding in agreement.

After that day in the studio, you and Vernon entered an annoyingly disgusting honeymoon phase. Unfortunately for everyone else, this phase seemed to be endless. Two months in, and you were still attached to the hip, unable to keep your hands or eyes away from each other.

Your newfound revelation of love for Vernon also brought back up old dynamics between the two of you. With his encouragement, you began occasionally playing with the guys, sometimes joining in as second guitar on stage, standing at the back, right next to Vernon and his drums. Your relationship was a point of conversation for fans, but you still kept it private among the people in the company.

Currently, Vernon had made the executive decision that he wanted you to officially be featured in a remixed version of one of their most successful songs from their debut album. The plan had already been there, but Vernon's suggestion of having you on the track rather than anyone else had surprised some people at the company, especially when they found out you agreed.

Vernon had been incredibly busy all week, leaving this as the first time he'd been able to see all of you together to briefly discuss the future plans for the track. His plan was to make a quick stop and then finally rest in your arms back at your apartment.

"Anyways, you should never forget that she was lead guitar before you ever were. We could always just send you to the back again," interrupted Seungkwan, giving Chan an unserious yet pointed look.

Chan raised his hands in defense, "Hey! I'm not the one who kicked her out!"

Groaning, Vernon walked over to you and buried his face in your neck, tired features clear in his face as he wrapped his arms around your waist, "Make them stop. Please."

Giggling again, you opted for a better option, taking the clearly tired boy by the hand and leaving the studio, bidding your goodbyes to the guys.

You had only stopped by to say hi to your friends while on your way to your apartment, knowing Vernon was tired from a long day of recording for various other activities he had recently embarked in as a new face in the industry. They were already aware you'd be recording a song with them, but simply enjoyed giving Vernon a hard time. Maybe even more than you did.

On the ride home, Vernon had fallen asleep, absentmindedly cuddling against you on the back of the car. Vernon had naturally taken on the role of the main face of the group, which also came with endless work and promotions he sometimes had to do solo, just like today. You were more fortunate in that area, making most of your money off royalties and not needing to make public appearances at any point.

When you finally arrived home, you continued dragging Vernon along with you, who would only groan occasionally at the thought of even stepping foot into the elevator. Making it all the way to your suite had taken a while due to the size of the building, but when you made it, Vernon immediately threw off his shirt and stripped down to his boxers, letting himself fall face first into the bed, groaning at the mattress cushioning his fall.

You stared for a few moments, thinking of what you could do to help your tired boyfriend relax after a tiresome week of work. Then the idea suddenly came to you.

...

find 2.3k word continuation on either kofi or patreon!

[o-sachi]

You're My Sunshine - Various Blue Lock

ᯓ blue lock characters with a cheerful and upbeat s/o ᯓ characters; various blue lock chars. ᯓ tags; fluff, sfw, gn reader, no y/n

[🐟]: Trying out a different format for HCs 'cuz I feel like this works better for this request.

Sunshine x Sunshine

This is perhaps the healthiest of healthy relationships. Being around each other simply feels light and easy because they understand each other by heart. Both of you have a positive outlook on life, wanting to pursue happiness together every step of the way. Most likely, this relationship was a result of a strong foundation of friendship.

You two are always playful with each other, finding ways to keep the spark alive by being spontaneous and adventurous with your relationship. You like randomly bursting into a duet in the middle of cooking dinner or going on picnic dates on a weekend afternoon.

There's a good line of communication between the two of you that keeps the relationship afloat at all times. Although, between important conversations would be a lot of laughter, inside-jokes, and flirty banter. There's never a dull moment between the two of you; that's for sure. And warning: HE WILL TEASE YOU A LOT.

He thinks you're the brightest and most beautiful thing in this world. He'll make sure that you never forget he thinks so. And he will compliment you like craaaazy. He's so downbad for you (wholesome-ly).

Affection—both verbally and physically—are expressed freely and frequently. Neither of you feel the need to hold back on it. You always make it your goal to express your appreciation for each other as you continue to support and push each other forward. It's pretty much a relationship that cultivates growth while being genuinely happy. The type of relationship everyone dreams of, basically.

Isagi, Bachira, Ness, Hiori, Niko, Kurona, Nanase, Charles, Lavinho

Sunshine x Sunshine Protector

Not exactly an opposites attract situation... most of the time at least. But it's more so that he likes to take on the duty to protect you and uphold your well-being at all times. He just thinks you're so precious—vulnerable to the cruelty of the world—and would gladly carry the burden of protecting you from all of that on his back.

It's a bit of mystery to you how he can be closed off to the world but so tender and loving with you. But, hey, why are you going to complain about that? Besides, if you do ask him, he'll just grunt at you and ignore it. Deep down he's having a crisis about it though. The tough guy facade is well-practiced after all.

He isn't the best with words, but he makes up for it through other ways—touch, quality time, acts of services, and so on. He'll gladly sacrifice himself if it meant making you happy. He's so deep down the rabbit hole (which is you), but will never admit it... unless you beg him nicely.

Although, he does offer words of reassurance. They come off as rather... stiff. Their words lack a bit of warmth, but they serve to provide you comfort either way. It's mostly because it sounds like advice—practical words. But sometimes all you need are sweet words to get rid of the fleeting worry. Don't fret; they'll get better somehow.

But there will be the rare times when you give him support and reassurance. Of course, he won't say so—you'll just notice it after being with him for so long. He'll be a bit averted to the idea at first, but will warm up to it soon enough. The strength of your relationship lies in this mutual respect and desire to uplift each other especially in each other's lowest moments.

Kunigami, Barou, Karasu, Kaiser, Gagamaru, Raichi, Sendou, Snuffy

Sunshine x Grumpy

This was one hell of a slow-burn. But was it worth it? Hell yeah. Your dynamic is almost the same as sunshine x sunshine protector, but he's a lot more subtle with his "protecting" and best belief he will deny all softie allegations because of it.

But that's exactly what he is—a big softie for you and for you only. But since he's emotionally constipated, he shows his love in... strange ways, but he swears it's normal. He'll act like he doesn't care most of the time, but he'll always have his eye on you. He'll always reject your silly requests, but will humor you eventually when you start showing those puppy dog eyes (his weakness).

THERE WILL BE TONS OF BANTER. But it will mostly be you laughing and him groaning. You like to tease him a lot, causing him to reward you with the nickname "brat". He says so affectionately, of course. Sometimes he'll even tease you back just to shut you up. It works like magic by the way.

One thing he hates the most is to see you cry and he hates it even more if he was the reason for those tears. As much as you don't want to fall apart in front of him—there are rare moments when his callousness gets to you. Suddenly, he no longer cares about keeping up his icy exterior; he'd drop it all for you. He'll scoop you up in his arms and tell you the sweetest things he had never uttered before in his life.

He sincerely thinks you're the best thing in his life. Even though he's so cold and detached, you managed to melt away some of that ice. You balance each other well and that's what keeps the relationship going.

Rin, Sae, Noel

o-sachi © 2024 pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

[pinchofhoney]

be careful what you wish for

coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 1.7k

warning: platonic relationship, quite angst-ish, text in italics is a flashback

summary: Turning in a district boy to the authorities felt like the right thing to do for Coriolanus. But what if, in doing so, he betrayed you as well?

a/n: absolutely no one asked for it, but i'll deliver it to you anyway<33 i'd say have fun but i'm not sure i'd be appropriate here

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: @watercolorskyy

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

The moment Sejanus shared Billy Taup's escape plan with you, there wasn't much hesitation on your part. It's not that you acted without thinking; it's just that you didn't need much time to decide.

The summer was scorching, feeling like an unending oven. The sun never let up, and even when you hoped for cooler nights, the heat lingered. You've gotten used to the coal dust that's practically become your second skin in District 12, but what truly got to you wasn't the clinging dirt. It was the musty scent of men's sweat, a scent that clung to the air, heavy with the hard work that defined your daily life.

Being one of the few female Peacekeepers among a crowd of men wasn't your ideal situation. Many other girls had come and gone, unable to stand the sacrifices the job demanded, but you stood your ground, determined to prove yourself in this role, even if serving in this particular district wasn't your dream come true.

At least until a certain point.

When you first arrived in District 12, your main goal was to pass your officer's exam as quickly as possible and secure a transfer elsewhere. But when young Plinth kindled the idea of a life beyond authority and rules, the seed of belief in freedom took root within you. The very thought of it resonated in your mind, sounding truly incredible, and you couldn't wait to leave the filthy district behind, escaping through a gap in the wire mesh fence.

But, of course, life wouldn't be too easy if everything just went as planned, right?

One moment, you were getting ready with Sejanus and the other rebels, gathering the basics for your escape north to the supposedly destroyed District 13. The next, you found yourself standing behind one of the empty houses on the Seam with Coriolanus. He held onto your shoulders, telling you urgently that you had to leave the District as soon as possible.

“What?” was the first word that slipped from your lips, your brows furrowed in confusion as you looked at your friend. “Isn't that exactly what we're working on?” you added, slightly amused, pushing Coriolanus' hands off your shoulders.

Shaking your head, you were about to update him on your progress when he caught your forearm again. “I think you misunderstood me, Y/N,” he said, his face dead serious. “You need to get out of here now,” he continued, and seeing your raised eyebrow, he almost gritted the last word through his teeth.

“What do you mean, Coryo?” you asked, breaking the silence after staring at him for a while, tired of him speaking in riddles.

Now Coriolanus was the one staying silent, his cool eyes fixed on you. You couldn't decipher his expressions; it felt like he was betraying a hundred feelings at once and, at the same time, nothing at all.

“I… um, there's…” the blond man started, stumbling over his words, unsure how to share the information he needed to tell you. “There's a chance that the talk Sejanus and I had, which you joined not long ago, about your escape plan, might have been fully recorded by one of the jabberjays.”

You seemed not to grasp the gravity of Coriolanus' words, so you stared at him, searching for any hint in his eyes that he might be joking.

“Okay, so what?” you eventually asked, once again furrowing your brows, this time with a bit less intensity.When a twig snapped around the building's corner, you quickly turned, thinking it might be someone eavesdropping, but finding only a small hedgehog, you shifted your attention back to the boy in the bluish uniform.

“So what?” Coriolanus repeated your question, unable to believe your difficulty in connecting the dots. “Y/N, these birds are headed to the Capitol. To the lab of the woman who’s the Head Gamemaker of the Hunger Games. And do you know what the Capitol authorities do to rebels?” he asked the question, not waiting for your response. “They hang them on the hanging tree, Y/N.”

You stared at Coriolanus, steadying yourself with a hand against the wooden building. With every word he spoke, you felt the color drain from your face.

“How… How did this happen?” you asked, trying to keep your emotions in check.

Coriolanus happily took care of the mockingjays, moving their cages, tagging them, and passing them along. As Bug left with the fiftieth cage, Sejanus burst into the room, full of excitement. He shared the good news about the upcoming package from his mother with his friends, watching Bug leave with a smile before turning to Coriolanus, who had just finished dealing with the bird marked as number 1.

The bird chirped in its cage, mimicking the last mockingbird, but once Bug was gone, Sejanus' cheerful expression faded, replaced by a troubled look. He glanced around the hangar to ensure they were alone before speaking in a quiet voice.

“Listen, we've only got a few minutes. I know you might not like what I'm about to do, but I need you to at least understand it. After what you said the other day, about us being like brothers, well, I feel I owe you an explanation. Please, just hear me out.”

This was the moment, the confession.

Now was the time for the pieces to be explained, especially about the alliance with rebels and money that he found in Sejanus' belongings. Once Coriolanus heard it, he'd be as good as one of them, a traitor to the Capitol.

Panic, running, or trying to silence Sejanus could be expected, but Coriolanus did none of these things. Instead, his hands moved instinctively. His left hand adjusted the cover of the jabberjay cage, while his right, hidden from Sejanus's view by his body, reached for a remote on the counter. Coriolanus pressed RECORD, and the jabberjay fell silent.

Turning his back to the cage, Coriolanus leaned on the table with his hands, waiting.

In the middle of Sejanus' explanation, you dashed into the hangar like a hurricane itself.

“There you are!” you exclaimed, both happy and a bit annoyed to find young Plinth. “Why didn't you wait for me? I said I wanted to go to Coryo with you,” you added, crossing your arms on your chest as you closed the gap between the boys and yourself.

It seemed that Coriolanus, noticing you in the hangar, tensed up a bit. He glanced briefly at the cage with the bird recording the conversation on the table, but neither of you or Sejanus noticed, and together, you continued explaining your plan to him.

During your report, where you and Sejanus competed over who could give Coriolanus more details, he lowered his head and rubbed his brow with his fingertips. It looked like he was trying to gather his thoughts, unsure how long he could stay silent without seeming suspicious.

But Sejanus rushed on, “I couldn't leave without telling you. You've been like a brother to me. I'll never forget what you did for me in the arena. I'll find a way to let Ma know what happened to me. And my father, too. I'll let him know the Plinth name lives on, even if it's in obscurity.”

The mention of the Plinth name was enough.

Coriolanus's left hand found the remote, and he pressed the NEUTRAL button with his thumb. The jabberjay resumed its earlier song.

Something caught Coriolanus's attention. “Here comes Bug.”

“Here comes Bug,” the bird echoed in his voice.

“Hush, you silly thing,” he scolded the bird, secretly pleased it had returned to its normal pattern. Nothing to alert both of you. He quickly covered the cage with a cloth and marked it with J1.

“I swear, I have no idea,” Coriolanus lied, wearing a worried expression. “While rearranging the cages, one of them must have snagged the remote control.”

You lightly bit your lower lip, eyeing your friend. Without any reason to doubt him, you finally let out a shaky breath.

Gazing up at the sky, you counted to three in your mind to steady your nerves. Then, you looked back at Coriolanus.

“Does Sejanus know?”

“Of course, I told him first,” he lied again, his gaze fixed beyond your shoulders without losing the concerned look on his face.

“God, what are we going to do now?” nerves took over every cell in your body as you asked another question. You leaned against the wooden building, slowly lowering yourself until you were sitting on the ground.

You lifted your head to meet Coriolanus's eyes, and he crouched in front of you, placing his hand on one of your knees.

“Hey, don't stress. You're heading back to the base now. Pack what you need, and tonight, you'll slip out of the district just like you planned with the rebels. You'll meet Sejanus at the lake, alright?” he spoke with a calmness, almost like talking to a kid, trying to reassure you.

Even though Coriolanus despised rebels — those who went against the Capitol's rules — he didn't want you to suffer the consequences that would surely befall Sejanus. He had nothing against you; in fact, he genuinely liked you. Your innocence about a better life beyond the Capitol's control wasn't his concern because you hadn't caused him any trouble, unlike young Plinth who had stirred up problems more than once.

“But won't it be suspicious if I suddenly vanish? They'll be searching for me, Coryo. They'll find me and punish me,” you said, placing your hand on his.

“I told you not to worry, remember?” Coriolanus replied, a bit sharper but still maintaining his reassuring tone. “I'll figure something out. No one's going to harm you.”

“But Coryo, you-” you began, but he quickly cut you off.

“Enough, Y/N,” Coriolanus said firmly, standing up from his crouch. “Get up. We're heading back to base,” he reached out a hand to you, which you took after a moment's hesitation. He helped you stand, silently conveying to act naturally before stepping out from behind the building.

You had no choice but to go along with Coriolanus' questionable plan, clinging to the hope that he knew what he was doing.

Little did you grasp the reality—that he was the cunning architect behind the recorded conversation. Sejanus wouldn't show up at the lake beyond District 12's boundaries. Instead, his fate would take a dark turn as he dangled lifeless from a tree in a matter of days.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝓹𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 | laszlo kreizler x reader

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 | being a traditional, well-behaved woman, you saved yourself for marriage. but the things your new husband has planned for you are... less than traditional, and might just show how poorly behaved you can be.

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 | over 9k

𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 | SMUT (18+ only!!), virginity loss, age gap (unspecific; laszlo is in his 40s, reader is probably 20-25), multiple orgasms/overstimulation, fingering, oral f receiving, squirting, shy/innocent reader, religious reader (but nothing tooo shame-y or anything), some innocence kink, a hint of medical kink?, slightly pervy laszlo?!?! (moreso he's just a wee bit of a weirdo and says some cringe stuff but like. that's just his vibe sorry)

Laszlo was such an impossible paradox of a man.  Especially compared to the sort of man you always thought you’d marry— what you’d been raised for, even.

An accomplished doctor, a successful and wealthy man of high social standing— a kind, sensitive, intelligent, and patient partner who made you feel beautiful and special and, for lack of a better word, fancy.  That part was exactly as you’d always imagined for yourself, though you had never really believed you could find someone so wonderful.

And then there was the other half of him, the pieces that even in your wildest dreams you would’ve never thought would make up your future husband.  First of all, he was quite a bit older than you.  Even your parents, who had always preferred for you to marry someone already established (as they put it) rather than your own age, were a little concerned that he was in his mid-forties, and only a year younger than your father.  Of course, that was nothing compared to their offense at his profession, and the subsequent open-mindedness he had towards people your parents would rather pretend didn’t exist.  Then again, Laszlo himself having his disability made him the sort of person they would rather pretend didn’t exist, though he’d managed to hide it relatively well.

Maybe they could’ve forgiven any of that.  It was the atheism that put the final nail in the coffin, unfortunately… and someone as brash and unapologetic as Laszlo had no interest in hiding his beliefs to appease your parents.  He hadn’t brought it up, of course, or protested to the crucifixes and cross-stitched scriptures on the walls; but when they’d asked if he was Catholic or Protestant, he told them directly that he was a man of science and didn’t entertain any metaphysical notions or, as he’d so thoughtfully put it, fantasies.

They instantly forbade the courtship and warned you never to see him again.  And maybe that was when he surprised you most— he was so romantic, so… dashing.  He took a carriage to your home and literally threw pebbles at your window, daring you to climb down the lattice and join him for a midnight adventure.  It was then he suggested that you marry him anyways— he had more than enough to take care of you after a disownment from your parents.  He promised to give you anything you wanted, to treat you perfectly, to spend every day trying to keep you as happy as you made him without even trying.

There it was again, the contradictory enigma of Laszlo Kreizler.  A serious, even stern man, proposing to you like a lovestruck teenager.  He had eschewed fantasies a few evenings ago only to turn around and ask you to jump headfirst into a fairytale.

You said yes, though.  You really didn’t think twice about it— you knew he would be good to you.  And you knew you’d never loved someone like you’d loved him before.

You wanted to run away right then and there, but he told you to go home for a few more days, to gather your things— he would send for them while your parents were out, and you could move in with him as soon as you were ready.

When you did move in, though, he seemed a little surprised that you asked for your things to be moved to a spare bedroom.

“Is everything alright?” he asked you softly, stepping closer to you as you crossed your arms over yourself nervously; you waited until you were sure Cyrus was out of earshot, carrying your bags away, before you answered.

“Yes,” you replied quietly, “everything’s fine.”

“It’s understandable if you’re feeling conflicted now,” Laszlo assured.  “Having just left your parents, and not knowing if you’ll see them again—”

“It’s not that,” you promised.  “Well— of course, I feel something about that, but I’m happy to be here with you.  That’s not my issue at all.”

“Then what is?” he pressed.  “I hope you feel that you can tell me.”

You sighed as he reached up to brush your cheek; his touch always soothed you, though it felt a bit different here, in his home.  Your new home.  “I just… wouldn’t feel right about being in your room, until we’re married.”

He nodded.  “Of course.  I shouldn’t have presumed.”

You smiled a little, though it was more out of nervousness than anything.  “I… I wondered if you thought my parents were the only reason that we never— that nothing had—”

“Shh,” he soothed, pushing your hair back from your face until you looked up at him.  “I don’t expect anything from you now.  Well, only that you do whatever you like to make yourself feel at home here.”

“And what… what will you expect from me once I am your wife, Dr. Kreizler?” 

Though you were a little afraid to, you met his gaze; his brown eyes seemed deeper than ever, and you were powerless to look away from them.  “What do you think is right to give me, when you are my wife?”

You sighed a little, feeling his hand on your cheek move carefully down to your neck, his gentle fingers brushing along the smallest part of your collarbone exposed by your dress.  Words escaped you; you wanted him to know that just because you wanted to wait for him didn’t mean you didn’t want him.  Even before, even when you first met him, your mind had supplied you with thoughts that sent you straight to the confession booth.

You wanted to be one with him in every way you could think of… you just needed some to come before others, to feel right with your own beliefs.  Even if you loved an atheist, and felt surprisingly little guilt for it, you were still religious yourself and wanted to honor God’s intention for marriage.  

Didn’t mean you couldn’t yearn for your soon-to-be husband, right?  It certainly didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy the full benefits of physical intimacy when the time came.

But obviously, you were far from brave enough to say all that.  Instead, you found your hands wandering to his chest, following the pattern of his suit coat up to his shoulders, biting your lip without even realizing it.  He simply continued to watch you, and you got the feeling that he understood you better than you could explain it yourself.  One of the bonuses of being loved by an expert on the human mind, perhaps.

You were almost in a trance, not noticing how long you were spending just gently touching and holding him in this simple way— until you looked up and met his gaze again, and felt a little weak.  “Can we marry soon?” you asked softly, almost under your breath.  You hoped he wouldn’t tease you, you weren’t secure enough for him to mock your obvious eagerness, to call attention to your desire for him.  Thankfully, he stayed perfectly serious, because he was just as affected as you were.

“As soon as you like,” he replied earnestly.

It was probably for the best that Cyrus walked in to the parlor at that moment, and you instinctively pulled back from Laszlo, crossing your arms again.  “Your bags are in the downstairs bedroom, madam,” he informed you, “down the hallway under the stairs.”

You nodded at him as Laszlo responded, “Thank you, Cyrus.  That will be all.”

He left, and you looked at your fiance again, feeling a bit silly for what he’d seen in you a moment before.  But he smiled at you, and you figured he’d be the last person to judge you for any of that.  “I’ll give you a little time to unpack and freshen up, if you like,” he offered.  “I hope you’ll join me for dinner at seven this evening.  I believe we’ll be having quail.”

“Of course— thank you,” you smiled, watching him begin to turn to depart.  But for a second, he hesitated— like he didn’t want to leave you— and you prayed he wouldn’t kiss you.  It’s not that you didn’t want him to… you wanted him to more than anything.  He’d only kissed you once before, at the end of a particularly exhilarating night out together, and you hadn’t stopped thinking about it for a moment since.

So no, it wasn’t that you didn’t want him to kiss you.  It was only that, if he did, you knew you’d have trouble letting it be just a kiss.

Therefore, you were just as relieved as you were disappointed when he departed without incident.

///

A few days later, you eloped.  You hadn’t felt much urge to have a ‘proper’ wedding when no one you knew approved of the marriage anyway— they were all too deep in your parents’ pocket, unfortunately.  And even if anyone cared enough to come, Laszlo refused to be wed in a church (you thought maybe he would bend on it if you really begged, he was overall quite accommodating to you, but it wasn’t worth your trouble) and so it would’ve just been another scandal.  

Truly, you were just as happy this way— it was the happiest day of your life, really.  You left the courthouse as Mrs. Kreizler, wearing a stunning silver band he’d had engraved with your new initials and flowering vines all around in a swirling, whimsical pattern.  His band was simpler, but you loved it even more— just because it was his, and seeing him wearing it made your heart skip all day.

Anticipation for your wedding night only grew with every passing moment.  Laszlo himself was in the bathroom with the door shut— you heard the sink running, the various sounds of him preparing for bed.  You were just trying to get your heart to slow down, trying not to have any specific goals or expectations for the evening.  Today had already been perfect.

But, of course, it was hard not to imagine what was next for the two of you— your things had already been moved into his room.  A vanity had been placed in it as well, a wedding gift from Sara Howard (a friend of Laszlo’s you had become acquainted with during this whirlwind romance), and you were using it now as you prepared yourself for bed.  You were already in your nightgown, having changed after Laszlo left the room (not that you had to, but it felt more natural that way), and you were carefully unpinning your hair from its meticulous style.

As you concluded the final steps of your evening routine, you saw the bathroom door open behind you in your reflection; your husband emerged, wearing an embroidered silk robe that offered a view of a sliver of his chest— not very much, but more than you’d ever seen.  You didn’t notice the way your thighs pressed against each other more tightly; he approached you slowly, and you eventually turned to look at him directly.  With you still sitting on the vanity’s padded stool, he towered over you when he stood close… and as you lifted your head to look up at him, his hand brushed softly along your jaw.  You tilted into his touch just a bit, smiling at him while your heart fluttered.

“You’re so beautiful, mein Schatz,” he whispered, and you felt a little giddy when he talked like that— he’d only ever indulged you in his German after having a few drinks, so this instance caught you off-guard in the best way.  Not to mention he’d called you Schatz before— treasure, apparently, and a common term of endearment— but he’d never tagged it with mein before.  And you were his, truly.  You were glad he’d waited to say it until it was actually true (even if, in a certain sense, it was already true before).

He motioned, rather subtly, for you to stand up.  It seemed simple enough, but you felt a little shaky as you did it— a nervous excitement, like the kind you would feel before a piano recital or debutante ball.  Except those were all public engagements, and this was as private as anything could be.

Touching your face again, he wove his fingers back around your neck, his thumb cradling your jaw right in front of your ear.  And he kissed you— just like that, quick at first but then slowing down as you both sighed a bit.

You admired how easily he’d done it, and thank god for it, because you would’ve spent quite a while working up the courage.  This was different from the night you’d kissed him after a few weeks of seeing each other— it was very different from the kiss you’d shared at the courthouse earlier that day.  It would’ve made sense if there was a sense of neediness to it, as if he were making up for lost time or relieving all the anticipation for this night.  But really, it was all rather relaxed, at least on his part.  Like he had all the time in the world: which, you know, he did.

You, on the other hand… you were feeling a bit more out of your element.  Not that you weren’t enjoying this new one so far, it was just a little unfamiliar.

His hand floated lower and traced down your back— delicately, with the tips of his fingers brushing your skin through the thin fabric until chills started to run over you.  You gasped a little into the kiss, and put your hands on the patterned lapels of his robe; you didn’t actually push him away, but he pulled back as if you had, examining your face carefully for a moment.

You hadn’t needed him to stop, but you were a little glad he did: just a moment’s break from it all before it became overwhelming.  His fingers still traced gentle shapes on your lower back through the nightgown, and you found your gaze drifting to his chest, to your hands resting on it— and your own fingertips ventured into the exposed piece of his chest.  His skin was paler here, with a reddish-blondish patch of hair just starting to be visible.  You touched it, taking a quick and shaky breath, and wondered why something inside you tightened as you pet him here.  He was so… masculine.  His looks weren’t sweet and boyish, no: he was broad and strong (he would deny that one if you said it, but to you he was) and sharp around the edges, and it was something you never expected to excite you so much.

But you loved that you could still feel a bit of friction from his beard after he’d kissed you.  You loved the subtle scent of his cologne, how sturdy he felt under your touch.

Your hands drifted up to his face, fingers brushing through his hair slowly, and he smiled at you.  His hair was just a bit long for what was typical of men these days, and you enjoyed combing through the dark brown locks and noticing the little golden highlights in the dimmed light of the room.

The hand on your hip pulled you closer, pressing your body against his, and you tried your best to relax into the warm strength of his form while your heart kept racing.

When he kissed you again, he moved in slowly, watching your face before his own eventually met with it, and you fluttered your eyes shut as his lips gently pressed to yours.  This time, you found yourself leaning in for more, kissing him back with more passion; you let out a little dampened moan when his tongue brushed against your bottom lip, taking the next opportunity to gently move further into your mouth.  

He broke away all too soon, embracing you even tighter, pressing his cheek to yours.  And when you, in turn, wrapped your arms around him and pressed yourself against him everywhere you could… you felt it.

Even if you had very little knowledge about this sort of thing, you understood what that hard, curved shape was, pressed just above where your hip met your stomach.  You knew what it was, and your body did too— heat pooled at your core, every touch awakening you even more.

“Oh,” you sighed shakily, holding tighter onto him to just have something to hold onto.

“It's alright,” he whispered, soft words floating on his breath which tickled under your ear.  “It's alright, my darling, I won't hurt you.”

You hummed softly in return, nodding as his lips brushed over your cheek, then moved to your neck.  “I know,” you replied.  “I trust you, Laszlo.”

But you couldn't help but gasp when his tongue teased your pulse, his teeth gently grazing the most delicate places they could find.  His grip at your waist tightened when you whimpered.  “Is this pleasurable to you?” he asked softly; even such a formal statement made you shudder when he said it in that low, buttery voice…

You nodded, your back arching slightly to press yourself against him, but you felt him smile against you suddenly.

“I'd like for you to say it,” he explained, an unfamiliar darkness to his voice.

“It's… pleasurable,” you panted.  “When you kiss me there… it's like I feel every touch s-somewhere else—”

“Where, my love?”

“Here,” you sighed, grabbing his hand from your back and moving it between your legs.  He instantly cupped and rubbed your mound, and your knees nearly buckled from the pleasure.

“Mein Gott, you're so sensitive,” he observed, his own voice sounding a little strained, “I've hardly touched you.”

“L-Laszlo, just touch me more,” you pleaded.

Though he’d been so careful until that moment, he suddenly started to pull up the skirt of your nightgown rather hastily, nostrils flaring as he bent down slightly and worked to hoist the fabric up.  Finally, he got under it, but teased you by rubbing and groping at your thighs instead; under his breath, you just barely heard a growl before he began to kiss your neck again.

“Even if both my hands were strong, I'd wish for more to touch you with,” he mumbled against your skin.  “I'd still want to cover you entirely, reach every part of you at once.”

Well, you liked the sound of that, but one hand was doing you plenty of good already— especially when it slid back up to cup you again, making you sigh and moan as his fingers slipped through your folds, spreading your abundant wetness all around.

Desperate to return even a portion of the sensation he was giving to you, you placed your hand against the bulge in his trousers.  Though the shape and firmness of him made you gasp excitedly, he only let you rub it for a few moments before sighing and moving your hand away.  “Not yet, my darling,” he instructed.  “It's best if we take this one step at a time, for now.”

You felt a little silly, having to be held back like that, but you nodded.  He obviously knew better than you about all this.

It was almost too much, the way he was touching you: you had your arms wrapped tight around his shoulders to try to keep yourself upright, frankly.  And yet, for how overwhelming it was, you heard yourself saying—

“More, please,” you begged, “I-I need you, just give me more, please—”

“I will,” he promised roughly, “but not here.  I think it’s only right that I take you to bed, hm?”

If you weren’t all worked up, you might’ve made some witty comment about how at least the bed’s not too far or whatever— but no, you just let him guide you the few steps to the mattress, and you sat on it as you simply awaited further orders.  So little that he’d done to you, and you’d already do whatever he asked in exchange for continued attention.

You watched him roll up his sleeve— it took him a little while with the weaker hand, but you didn’t mind letting this moment last— and didn’t even notice the way your mouth had gone slack, you were nearly salivating.  “Lay back, darling,” he instructed simply, still looking at his sleeve as he finally folded it up to his elbow, “and open your legs.”

You obeyed, of course, and bit absent-mindedly on your lip as you slowly lifted your knees and parted your thighs.  There was no point being shy now, of course— and you were more than eager for him to get back to doing what he had been before— but you still felt a nervous hesitance that made your hands (and heart) shake slightly.  Something about stopping to get in the bed had brought a bit of sobriety to the moment, and you realized in retrospect how desperate you must have looked.  Surely he wouldn’t hold that against you…

He lifted your skirt again, up to your hips, and hummed lowly at the sight of your sex.  Your face burned hotter; you liked the way he touched it, but you didn’t feel entirely comfortable with him… staring at it.

Still, it was the sort of slight discomfort that felt oddly… good?  Yes, you were a bit embarrassed and exposed at the moment, but it felt wrong in that fun, naughty sort of way; it made your hips shift a little, presumably in hopes of some friction.  Thankfully, their wish was answered: his hand was on you again, pulling your lips apart, slowly exploring you until your eyes fluttered shut.

“May I touch you inside as well?” he asked— as if there was any risk of you turning that offer down.

“Y-yes, Laszlo, please,” you whispered, whimpering as you felt the tip of his pointer finger— suddenly it seemed a little thicker than you remembered— press up to your entrance and ever so gently slide inside.

“Just one to start,” he narrated softly as that one finger made your toes curl, only one finger making your hips twist and your back arch.  How could he do that to you so easily?  “And my thumb can help with this lovely little organ you have…”

His thumb circled your bud, and you shuddered all over— even inside— and instantly struggled to catch your breath.  “Laszlo, what… what is that…” you breathed, whimpering when he rubbed it again.

“Your clitoris, my love— you’ve never touched here before?”

He should’ve known you hadn’t— even if you had… explored yourself out of childish curiosity probably a decade ago, you would’ve remembered if it felt like this.  Shaking your head, you were surprised by his little growl.

“Your poor girl,” he cooed, something a little attractive about the slight condescension of it.  “You have so much to learn.  I can’t even imagine the things you’ve never felt before…”

He slowly moved the pad of his thumb up and down over the flesh, which only grew firmer as he continued.  “Oh!” you whimpered, hips rocking back against his touch— it was so wild of you, you thought, but you couldn’t really stop yourself.  He pressed harder and your whole body jumped.  “Fuck!”

He laughed a little, and your face got warmer.  “I’ve never heard you use language like that, Schatz, but it sounds impossibly adorable when you say it.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you began, “I couldn’t help it—”

“No, don’t apologize,” he insisted, “I’d rather you said it again.  Whenever you can’t help it, of course.”

You knew that Laszlo knew more than you about many topics, being a highly-educated man of great intellect, but you hadn’t expected him to introduce you to an entirely new body part that you’d been carrying with you this whole time.  If you’d figured out how to do anything like this to yourself, you might have spent your entire adolescence trapped in your room, so maybe it was for the best that you never put it together.

You weren't sure how any woman was meant to learn these things— you figured she wasn't meant to, unfortunately— but if she had a choice, you'd certainly recommend this method, provided she could find her own husband to try it with rather than borrowing yours.  What a visceral and beautiful way to learn how much that little organ could really do: Laszlo rubbing it with his thumb, with just the right amount of pressure to make a loud moan crawl out of you.

“The noises you make are just delightful, my darling,” he praised.  “Keep going, so I know what I should do.”

“Just do that,” you begged, “just keep doing that.”

“Only this?” he pressed.  “I shouldn't even add another finger?”

Of course, that was when he did— gently pressing his middle finger to your opening until it accommodated it, and you heard your own high-pitched whine in disbelief that you'd made the sound.  “F-fuck, that feels… Laszlo, you're so—”

But you interrupted yourself, because he did something so diabolical with his fingers just then.  He'd only twisted and scissored them inside you for a moment before curling them up, rubbing the most delicate place you never knew you had— just as he pushed down harder on your poor clit.  You felt ravenous all of a sudden, terribly overwhelmed but greedy for more.

“Please, oh god, please—” you started to beg before you even knew what you wanted.  He knew what you wanted, and he gave it to you: more.  It wasn't even very significant of a movement, and yet it turned your whole body into his plaything as you started to shake all over.

“You react more than I ever expected, my darling,” he cooed.  “I never dreamed how well you would respond to my touch.  I've only just begun and I think you're already nearly there.”

Before you could wonder where he was talking about, he pulled his fingers out of you carefully.  You heard yourself whimper a little, opening your eyes and looking at him worriedly.  He smiled, seeming to enjoy how much his interruption seemed to bother you; “Take off your nightgown, my love,” he requested plainly.  “I think I’d like to get a good look at you before I go on.”

Sitting up (and finding your head a bit more dizzy than you expected), you started by unbuttoning from your neck halfway down to your chest, before lifting the thin garment up over your head slowly.  You felt so strange doing this— undressing in front of a man— but your heart pounded with hope that he would enjoy what he saw.  Tossing the dress aside, you sheepishly bit your lip and waited for his assessment as his dark brown eyes grazed over your nude form.

He moved a little closer, his hand running up your leg and then around your side, reaching up to carefully cup one of your breasts.  You breathed deeply but unevenly, your chest rising and falling against his touch.  You were almost nervous that he hadn’t said anything yet, but the look in his eyes just became more and more clear; you whimpered under your breath when his fingers brushed over your hardened nipple, ever-so-delicately pinching it until your hips shifted a bit in response.  “How beautiful you are, my love,” he whispered, making you squirm again with just his words.  “Is it true you’re really my wife?  This lovely, delicate body that only I can touch and caress, laying next to me every night… I don’t know when I’ll really believe it.”

You had to shut your eyes for a second— you might be too brash if he kept on like that, praising you so tenderly.  “You could’ve been a poet,” you told him with a little smirk, blinking open your eyes again as he guided you to lay back once more, “if medicine didn’t suit you.”

“Oh, I’m no poet, Schatz,” he smiled in return, taking one more careful squeeze of your other breast before moving down to pet inside your legs again.  “All I am is painfully honest.”

His fingers slid inside you again, and you could’ve sworn he was rubbing inside you a bit more firmly than he had been before— thrusting a little faster, pushing a little deeper.  And all the while he was staring down at you, back and forth between your face and your hole, with a delicious darkness in his eyes.

It was still a patient endeavor, so much so that you never really noticed that he was getting a little quicker and rougher with it.  You really didn’t figure it out until you heard yourself choking out his name, groaning and gasping louder than you meant to— but you couldn’t suppress it very well, either.

You soon began to realize what he meant before with that nearly there comment, without even having any prior knowledge of what it could be… there was something instinctive about it, something totally natural.  You didn’t know what was coming, but you understood it; you knew you were on the edge of something and that if you could just get there it would be perfect.

Still, you couldn’t have known how much you would enjoy it.

You couldn’t stop moaning— it was this all-surrounding, ecstatic feeling, like… sinking into something.  Relaxing into something… something warm and soft and good.  Even a lifetime of religious repression couldn’t convince you this was anything but perfect.  Actually, nothing had ever felt right quite the way this did.

Your back arched rather dramatically, until you had a good view of the headboard upside-down; and he gave you few more fast, rough pumps of his fingers into your shaking body before slowing down to a stop and letting you rest.

Suddenly drained, you melted back down onto the bed with a long whine.  “How did that feel?” he asked, sounding a little formal about it, and you only could muster a little, exhausted laugh because what did he think you were going to say?  ‘It was alright, tickled a little bit, but I didn’t mind it.’

“That was… you… you’re so—” you began a few times, giving up to open your eyes wide when his fingers pet up and down over the seam of your lips, gently exploring you, making you quiver from how sensitive you’d become.  You weren’t even done recovering from the stimulation and he was giving you more; he seemed sort of absent-minded about it, the way he gently and repetitively slid up and down and up and down through your slick and swollen folds… but it was deliberate, you knew it was, because he smiled when you moaned weakly.

One finger pressed inside you again, and he watched your face closely and you shuddered.  You were just the slightest bit sore, and it felt like that one finger was more of a stretch than before… which seemed impossible, but with the erratic pulsing of your walls, it was a little hard to keep track.

You gasped sharply when he put the second finger in you once more, almost snarling a bit as he watched you react so strongly.  “Laszlo, I— I don't think I can do that again—”

“You can, I'm sure of it,” he encouraged, curling his fingers inside of you, which required a bit more force with your channel bearing down against him in response.  “It might even come faster this time, that little spot is all swollen now—”

Before he could finish that sentence, he proved it by circling the place, making your hips jump up as another whine eked out of you.  “O-oh, I— fuck…”

He smirked a bit, a delicious smugness to his expression, and the emotion looked much too good on him.  “See?  Just let me take control, my love.  I think you'll like what I do, if you simply let me do what I like with you.”

Fuck, that had to be the most beautiful thing you'd ever heard.  You were biting your lip to try to keep back the flood of terribly embarrassing things your pleasure wanted to say for you: you can do whatever you like with me; I'm yours; I'd do anything for you; don't ever stop, but also if you don't fuck me soon I might lose my mind, you know, things of that nature.  Instead you let out a muffled moan, and nodded to make sure he knew that he had your permission for whatever he thought was best.

And, of course, he’d been right about you: that you’d be even more sensitive after coming, and would be able to go through it all over again.  It only took probably a minute or two of dedicated, precise stimulation for the feeling to grow again… except it felt a little stronger this time, like it was building past the point that it had broken at before.  Maybe your tolerance was higher, or something?  You really weren’t qualified to say— all you could think about was this sensation, this tension, and the way he looked at you as you started to shake all over.

Your eyes fell shut instinctively, your shaking hands clutching at the bed under you; you felt sort of numb all over, except instead of everything being dulled and distant, it was only heightened.

“O-oh, oh, Laszlo, I—” you tried to warn him, words escaping you as the heavy, almost sharp feeling gathered tighter and tighter…

“Give into it,” he insisted, “it’s alright— I want to see it.  I want to hear you, I want to feel you when you come—”

His voice was getting darker, rougher, more demanding as he went on; and in the same way, his fingers’ thrusts into you became more aggressive.  “Fuck, I— I think I’ll— oh god!” you yelped.

“Yes,” he encouraged, “let go, darling!”

Your arms flailed around for a second before finding a lump in the sheets to grab onto tightly, your hips rocking against his hand, your head falling back in a scream; it was so intense, and so sudden, and you felt like the pressure that had been building broke so violently that it would’ve been painful without all the ecstasy running through your veins, numbing you inside and out.

You could tell that this one was different— hotter, warmer, wetter— but you had no idea what you’d done until the high had started to fade just a bit.

His hand slowed down to a stop, you heard him quietly catching his breath, and you blinked your eyes open… that’s when you noticed small wet stains on his rolled-up sleeve, and shiny fluid along his forearm— and a very proud grin on his face.

You felt your eyes go wide and your cheeks start baking.  He spoke up before you could even try to process what to say: “That was excellent, my love— I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so magnificent,” he praised.  “You’re incredible.”

You wanted to believe him, but it didn’t really offer much explanation.  “Laszlo, I… did I—?”

“No, darling, don’t worry,” he cooed, scooting a little closer on the bed as he pet the inside of your thigh.  “It’s natural— one of the… rarer ways that a woman’s body can respond to stimulation.  I’ve always found the concept fascinating, but until now, my knowledge was… purely theoretical.  Actually, I’d love to gather your perspective on the experience, possibly for a future research paper on the topic— but that’s an issue for another time.  There’s a more pressing matter I need to discuss with you.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious what matter could be discussed in a time like this.

“I… I'd like to try something else,” he announced, and you dropped your head back on the bed in a sort of defeat.

“Something else?!” you whimpered, still catching your breath from the last thing he had “tried”.  “What else could there be but making love?”

“That will be soon, I promise, I just… I can't resist such an opportunity,” he explained.  “Your scent is so erotic, and it's only grown stronger now that you’ve so generously covered my arm in your ecstasy.  And with anything that smells so delectable, one can't help but crave to taste it.”

You'd only heard about this before— sort of a dirty schoolyard secret, almost an urban legend.  The whole thing had always sounded odd to you, if maybe not as icky as you thought it was when you first had the concept whispered to you as a child.  You didn't realize it was actually something you might experience someday, assuming it was a practice reserved to the especially perverted.  Now that he was offering it, you found yourself biting your lip as you tried to imagine what it would be like.

“I'd like to pleasure you with my mouth,” he concluded, really spelling it out for you.  “Would that be alright?”

You weren't sure what to think of that, and yet you were already nodding yes.  This was your husband, after all— who else could you trust to do something like this?  Most of all, you did it because you wanted to please him.  Because he'd asked you for it.

He smiled a little when you agreed, and began to lean down between your legs.  Those deep brown eyes seemed to sparkle more than ever when he looked up at you, but his gaze couldn't stay with yours for long before he had to give a closer look to your cunt.  He carefully spread the lips with his fingers, humming at the sight.  “I wonder if it's even possible for you to be as delicious as you look,” he spoke quietly, and a needy whine caught in your throat.

It was just a gentle kiss to your clit first… then another, with his lips parted.  Then he started to ever-so-gently suckle at it, tongue softly petting it; he wasn't doing too much, physically, but you never could catch your breath while he was doing it.

You whined a bit when he broke away, looking down at him in search of an explanation but finding instead him looking back up at you with an indescribable look in his eye.

“How does that feel?” he asked, his voice rougher and darker than you'd ever heard it before, making you shiver gleefully.

“Wet,” you blurted out, making him smile a little, a small laugh on an exhale through his nose that made you feel a bit foolish in an unexpectedly pleasurable way.  “A-and warm… please don't stop, Laszlo, it felt so nice…”

He got back to it, a little more intensely than before, and your eyes rolled back when he really started to lap at you with his tongue— harder and wider each time, making you writhe from the intensity of it.

You couldn't even describe the sound you made when he pushed his tongue inside you.  He moaned against you in response to it, though, and thank God, he kept going.

He kept petting your thighs, even encouraging you when your legs clamped down around his head unintentionally; presumably that was his way of saying it wasn’t giving him any pain, which you were a bit concerned about, even if you couldn’t really stop yourself.  Sometimes you had the strength to meet his gaze, but most of the time you felt like you’d melt if you looked back at him— the way he was staring up at you was just too fiery, too intense, too beautiful.  

Just when you thought you were getting used to the pattern of his tongue’s movements on your clit, he gently pushed his two fingers back into your pulsing channel.  You were all tingly and sore inside, but a long, deep moan fell from your mouth as your back arched.

“Beautiful,” he praised, the word muffled by what he was doing— which he got back to more urgently than ever, twisting and thrusting his fingers inside you carefully at first.

“J-just like that,” you pleaded.  “Oh, Laszlo, I— I didn't know anything could… feel like this…”

You could feel the smallest smirk on his lips as he continued; even just being able to feel his smug smile there was such a lovely, erotic, totally novel concept to you.  

When he really buried his face in your legs, you could feel the roughness of his beard against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and buttocks, and god was it the most beautifully filthy feeling.  It was really an excellent metaphor for the whole thing: the symbol of his maturity, the well-kempt facial hair itself a balance between his wildness and his meticulous self-control, rubbing raw your delicate and untouched skin in such an intimate place.  If you weren’t too busy shaking and crying and seeing stars on this bed, you might have appreciated the beauty in those parallels, but clearly you weren’t capable of thinking about it to that level of depth.

The stream of helpless praises you'd been trying to hold back earlier?  There was absolutely nothing stopping it from spilling forward now.  “You're incredible,” you blurted out, your hand holding tighter to the sheets beneath you.  “Laszlo— my husband— you… you must be the devil, o-or an angel or prophet— or something. You make me feel things, such incredible things, that I didn't even know—”

He opened his mouth wide around you, breaking the seal of his lips so he could speak against your skin.  “I'm just a man,” he promised, “I'm just a husband becoming addicted to his new wife's pleasure, that's all, my dear.”

As he started to do it again so suddenly, you reacted suddenly as well: your hand found his hair and grabbed it, and your mind was too far gone to worry about it being too aggressive.  Not that he gave any signs of annoyance— if anything it was the opposite, as he lapped at you harder in response.  

This, of course made your hips jump up— until his hand slipped out of you, grabbing them and pulling them down, keeping you still as he continued.  The simple show of dominance affected you greatly, another heavy pulse of pleasure hitting you suddenly.

“I-I'm close,” you whispered.  “Laszlo, I'm so close— and it feels so different than before— I swear, nothing's ever felt so— fuck!”

He hummed encouragingly, and your whole body rocked in time with the growing pressure.  His fingers sliding back inside you, seeming to curl even more than before, certainly added to the sensation.

Just as you were teetering on the edge, his teeth grazed impossibly-carefully over you, a sharp and raw sort of pleasure jolting your entire body.  Of course, you couldn't fight against that, and the feeling inside you snapped as yet another flood of pleasure ripped through your body.  Your ears were ringing but you still heard how loud you must have been, how totally wrecked and helpless your moans had become.  

It wasn’t as… aggressive of a feeling as the one that had made you… you know… but it was probably the most powerful in its own way.  The highest, the heaviest, the most whole.  You couldn't hear him moaning against you through all that, but you could feel it: a deep and bassy vibration that only heightened the feeling even more.  Your moans turned to cries and then sobs; it was too much, the feeling was spilling over inside you— you weren't sure how much longer you could take it all before you broke.

It seemed, however, that he broke first; he pulled away and sat up, leaving you both panting, sweaty messes.  

“God, you're so beautiful,” he sighed, grabbing you by the neck to pull you up into a filthy, heated kiss.  You surrendered instantly, grabbing into his shoulders with hands that were still pricked with pins and needles as your high dissipated slowly.  “I can't wait anymore,” he mumbled against your lips, “I need to be inside you.”

“Please,” you gasped softly— you'd been waiting for this all night, at least.  You'd never imagined yourself so eager, so desperate for it, though…

He made quick work untying his robe, leaning over you as he held tightly onto his cock and guided the swollen, leaking head between your lips.  Yes, even with desire coursing through your veins, a touch of anxiety was still present.  You just couldn’t imagine what this was going to be like, you could still hardly believe it was happening to you— and, though it was a bit crass to think, you were a bit surprised by the brief glance of his cock that you’d gotten.  You wouldn’t really know what was big or small or normal or abnormal when it came to that… you had nothing to compare it to.  What you did know was that it seemed much… thicker, than seemed appropriate to go inside you.  Of course you knew that a young woman’s first experience could be painful, you’d heard that bleeding was normal (if not expected, but that seemed a bit barbaric and certainly not what a progressive man like Laszlo was after) — yet, you still weren’t properly scared.  It was just the sort of anticipation that made you shiver and let out a long breath to compose yourself.

He groaned a little as he continued to rub against you, and you noticed the arm that held him up over you was shaking.  You could only imagine how frustrating it must have been to be giving you all that attention and not getting any in return for so long, and you could only hope he might take a little of that frustration out on you…

“Please,” you said again, quieter, as you looked up at him.  Thankfully, that was enough to make him press forward and slide into you all at once.

While his fingers had stretched you in such strange, sometimes overwhelming ways, his cock… it just fit.  It filled you exactly the way you needed— not too wide or too deep… though you suspected it would've been had he not prepared you so incredibly thoroughly.  And while his tongue has made you feel such unimaginable things, though his lips had effortlessly sucked ecstasy from your shaking body, having him inside you felt so simple and natural and easy.  

He hissed in his breaths as he moved— slow at first, but each one just a bit faster than the last.  Every movement stimulated all the places he'd already awoken inside you, and your legs moved on their own to latch around his hips while your head fell back with a satisfied sigh.

“My angel,” he groaned, staring down at you as each of his thrusts rocked you under him.  “I knew I— fuck, darling— I knew I'd have trouble keeping myself together when I was finally inside you.  Yet you're… you're even more perfect than I imagined.”

You smiled proudly, reaching up to hold his shoulders; he seemed encouraged by that, becoming just a bit rougher in his movements until your nails accidentally dug into his skin just a bit.

“I won't be able to last much longer,” he grunted, “but I-I can't stop.  I can't even slow down, I never… I've never lost control like this before.”

A shiver ran up your whole body, even seeming to make you clench inside— and he moaned in return, a beautifully pitiful sound.  

“I'm sorry,” he offered between panting breaths, and you barely mustered the energy to laugh. 

“Beloved, what do you have to apologize for?” you teased through a grin.  “Surely you're not worried that I will be left unsatisfied.”

“I would rather bring you to orgasm again,” he explained, “but I'm so desperate for you, I'm afraid I lack the patience for it.”

“I would rather pleasure my husband, for once,” you replied, “but you couldn't possibly feel what I felt, I don't think I'll ever be able to really return the favor—”

“It's no favor,” he insisted.  “Your pleasure is what I desire.  And a good wife gives her husband what he desires, no?”

You whimpered desperately, pathetically even.  “I'll be good for you, Laszlo,” you promised weakly, “I want to be a good wife to you…”

“You're a very good wife, my dear,” he assured.  “Look how much pleasure you've let me take from you, look how you've soaked our bed with your lovely nectar…”

You weren't sure which part of that aroused you the most… but our bed was a serious contender.

“And you taste absolutely divine,” he added, before kissing you again to let you taste it, too.  It was a sloppy and needy kiss, not precise and careful like basically everything else he'd done to you so far, but you loved it.  You loved any sign that he might be just as desperate as you.

Once again his speed and intensity picked up, until you could hear his skin hitting against yours loudly, and your back arched a bit at how perfectly dirty it felt.  His cock hit a spot deep inside you, and you sucked in a sharp breath.  “Laszlo,” you blurted out, and he groaned as he moved his kiss to your neck.  

“Keep saying my name,” he demanded.  “Tell me who your husband is— who makes you feel this way you've never felt before.”

“Laszlo,” you said again, “I'm yours.  Anything you want from me, it's yours.”

“Yes,” he agreed with a heavy sigh.

“Your wife, always,” you continued, and it made your own heart swell along with encouraging him: he moved faster, rocked deeper into you, and breathed heavy against your ear as your back arched from the erotic perfection of the moment.

“My wife,” he repeated, making you whine and nod and bear down on him with your walls.

“Yes,” you gasped, “yes— yours, I’m yours—”

“I-I can't hold back anymore,” he moaned, “I don't… I don't even know if I can bring myself to pull out before—”

“Don't,” you begged.  “I want it inside, Laszlo.  I want all of you inside me.”

“Oh, darling, mein Schatz, I—” he choked, but he never finished his sentence.  He just moaned louder and louder and fucked you faster and faster— until you were nearly screaming from how hard he hammered into you.

It stopped all at once; he pressed himself as deep inside you as he could, so deep you felt like you were struggling to breathe, and hid his face in the curve of your neck as he came inside you.

And for a long, beautiful moment, you just laid together; you were sort of halfway between awake and asleep, your whole body thrummed with emotions and sensations you never thought you could fit within yourself.  Time passed, surely, but you wouldn’t have known the difference.  His weight on top of you wasn’t too heavy, though it did keep you pressed into the mattress and sheets— not that you were going anywhere anyways.

You only really came back to reality when you felt small kisses trailing your neck; you hummed and squirmed a little beneath him, making you both groan as it stirred where you were connected.  He must have been a bit sore, too, though you felt like you’d been through quite a lot more and had a better excuse.

He moved again, just barely, and you winced as you held onto his back.  “Don’t go,” you whispered, afraid of the pain if he didn’t just stay still inside you.

“I have to, sometime,” he breathed in return.

“But—”

“I know, my love,” he cooed, “I’d stay inside you forever if I could.  But I’ll hurt you more if I don’t give you time to rest.”

Resigning yourself with a sigh, you nodded a little and scrunched up your face as he pulled his hips back.  It did sting, but it faded quickly once he was out— and the feeling was replaced with a warm, wet feeling that you realized must have been his seed leaking out of you.  It made you feel a bit dirty, but wonderful, too.

He laid beside you with a deep breath, his hand coming up to your face and turning it so you would look back at him.  You had to blink a few times to really see clearly, and even still, everything seemed a bit blurry around the edges.  The whole world seemed a bit softer, really.  “I love you, darling wife,” he told you simply, his voice soft but no longer a whisper, and he pet your cheek as he leaned in to kiss the bridge of your nose.

“I love you too, husband,” you cooed in reply.  “You’re so wonderful— a-and you’re nothing like I imagined, sometimes.”

“Perhaps I should have been more careful,” he offered nervously.

“No— that was perfect,” you promised.

“I meant the very end, there,” he clarified, his hand running down over your body and resting on your stomach.  “You might have wanted to wait longer… if you had a child so soon, you might wish we had more time just the two of us.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you realized what he meant.  “Oh, that…” you mumbled, smiling a bit to yourself.

“I fully intended to have my finish elsewhere, to lower the chances— I didn’t think I would become so… impulsive,” he sighed.  “I hoped to still control myself, but I’m afraid I wasn’t quite able to, once I was within you.  But I couldn’t help it, with the way you feel…”

“It’s alright,” you laughed weakly, “it’s not as if I were acting rationally.  I never… I didn’t think I could be so… so—”

A thousand words came to mind.  Unladylike.  Animalistic.  Desperate.  Insatiable.

“I didn’t think I’d ever act like that,” you said instead, voice getting a little softer as you felt a bit shy again.

“I knew you would,” he responded, making you look at him with wide eyes and warming cheeks.

“You— but I— I was always—!”

“Yes, you behaved very well each time I met you” he recalled with a proud smile, “always so sweet and well-mannered.  But I knew you had so much need within you, so much hunger… a being of pure instinct just waiting to take over when the time was right.”

Your heart skipped a beat— you felt a bit… accused by that statement, yet you couldn’t really deny it.  Even if you hadn’t known it before, it was clearly true now.  “How… how could you have sensed that?” you wondered.

He raised an eyebrow as he looked at you again; you loved the way he looked in that moment.  His expression was familiar, but the total lack of composure— flushed cheeks, sweat on his brow, messed hair— was totally new and quite pleasant.  “If you didn’t have any desire to misbehave, my darling, you wouldn’t have been going out with me.”

[genderlessdude92]

STICKS AND STONES

PAIRING: Alastor x Reader

SUMMARY: Y/N is shaken when Vox mocks her on live television with rude comments and even exposing her secret relationship with Alastor, too. Struggling with self-doubt, she feels inadequate in Hell's power-driven society. Alastor comforts her, emphasizing her unique qualities and their deep connection, helping her find solace despite the lingering hurt from Vox's comments.

WARNINGS: Established Relationship, Usage of Y/n, Usage of She/her pronouns, Major ANGST to major FLUFF in the end, Emotional Distress, Verbal Abuse, Hell and Demons (obv), Romantic Relationshiop kind of i guess idk, Mental Health, aaaand lmk if i missed anything!! ^^

NOTICE: please don’t copy or steal or translate any of my work or you will be haunted in your dreams and i will spawn something unpleasant at your porch the next day. But…thanks for liking my work !! >.<

Requests are open, Support is highly appreciated!

〰ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ..。.:*･ﾟ♫₊ ♪ *♬‧₊enjoy!~

The distant sound of a crackling fireplace filled the room, the occasional pop of a burning ember piercing the quiet. A soft, velvety couch sat in the corner of the hotel lobby, slightly rumpled from recent use, a testament to the comfort it had provided. Outside the window, the neon lights of Hell flickered in a dance of eternal night. Y/N, a fellow demon helping out the very hotel alongside her s/o, Alastor, known for her ‘bravery’ to date him, sat curled up in a blanket, her eyes fixated on the flickering screen of the television mounted atop the fireplace. It was a rare moment of solitude in the bustling halls of the Hazbin Hotel.

Her eyes filled with unshed tears as she watched the broadcast, Vox’s smug grin spreading across the screen. He was speaking about Alastor, her love, her rock, her everything. Of course, It didn’t bother her as much as before since he likes to bitch about him every once in a while. But then, in a sudden, cruel twist, he said it—

Her name…?

How could he even know her name in the first place—she isn’t an overlord or an overly known-demon. Alastor and her even tried to keep their relationship a secret for safety over the years.

Y/N’s heart sank as she heard the words that felt like a thousand knives. Vox’s voice grew louder, his smugness palpable through the screen. “And what about Alastor’s girlfriend, the one he’s been hiding from us all this time? Tell me, dear audience, what’s she got that makes her so special? A heart of gold? Maybe a brain of silver? Maybe even some spooky little radio powers?” His audience, a sea of demons, roared with laughter. Y/N’s cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment, her eyes glistening with tears she was desperately trying to hold back.

Her thoughts raced as she replayed the words in her mind. Useless. Insignificant. The words stung like acid on her soul. She knew she wasn’t a high-ranking demon, didn’t have flashy powers or a grand title, but she had always believed that she had something to offer. That Alastor saw something in her that others didn’t. Now, as the room swirled around her, she couldn’t help but doubt herself in those beliefs.

The door to the lobby creaked open, the sound breaking the silence like a gunshot. She didn’t look up, her eyes glued to the TV, unable to tear herself away from the mockery. But she recognized the footsteps approaching, the ominous thuds of Alastor’s steps against the carpet. His shadow fell over her, but she remained curled into herself. She remained silently panicking about Vox’s comments. She remained letting her breaths go wild with their pace.

Alastor paused for a moment, his eyes scanning the room before landing on her. He noticed the way she clutched the blanket, the way her eyes were red, and the TV’s volume turned up a bit too high. He sighed, his tail flicking in annoyance at the screen, and walked over to her. He knew she didn’t like confrontation, but he also knew she had the strength to face the harshness of Hell itself, and hell isn’t fair, anyways.

"Y/N," he said softly, his deep voice cutting through the cacophony of the TV. She didn’t look up at first, but when he gently placed his hand on her shoulder, she turned to face him, the seamless-before tears spilling over her cheeks. He sat down beside her, his expression a mix of concern and arrogance just from Vox being on the TV.

And just the TV being on in general.

"Hey," Alastor began, his hand moving to gently wipe away the tears with his thumb. His touch was surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to the hardened exterior he presented to the world. "What's going on?"

Y/N took a shaky breath, her voice quivering as she spoke. "It's Vox. He said..." She couldn't bring herself to repeat the words, the pain still fresh.

Alastor's eyes narrowed, his gaze flicking to the TV before returning to her. "What did that prick say?" His voice was calm, but the anger simmering beneath was unmistakable. Nonetheless, not forgetting about his dear S/o, he shifted the way he was sitting so he could face her.

Y/N took a deep, shuddering breath and recounted Vox's cruel words, each syllable like a dagger twisting in her chest. Alastor listened, his expression growing stormier with every sentence. He could feel the heat of his own anger rising, but he kept it in check, focusing on her instead.

When she finished, the tears subsiding just a little bit from letting it out, he pulled her into a tight embrace, his powerful arms enveloping her trembling form. "You know I don't give a damn about what that glorified karaoke machine thinks," he murmured against her hair, his voice a soothing rumble, “And you shouldn’t either. He’s a clout chaser, and you know that.”

Y/N nodded, trying to hold onto his words like a lifeline in a stormy sea of doubt. But the damage was done. She couldn’t shake the feeling of inadequacy that clung to her like a second skin. She pulled away slightly, looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes. "But he's right, Alastor. I'm not like you, or any of the other high-ranked demons here. I don't have flashy powers or a title that makes people fear me. What do I even contribute to this place?"

Alastor's expression softened, although his grip on her tightened slightly. "You contribute more than you think, my love," he said, his voice gruff with emotion. "You have a heart, a soul that hasn't been corrupted by the endless cycle of damnation. That's more than most demons here can say."

He took a deep breath, his eyes searching hers. "And as for your powers, they're not about flash or fear. They're about comfort, about healing. You have the ability to soothe the most tormented spirits, to ease the pain of those who are lost. That's something no one else here can do. You're special, Y/N. Don't ever let anyone make you feel otherwise."

The TV continued to blare in the background, Vox's voice now just a dull buzz as Alastor leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "You're not useless," he whispered fiercely, his eyes burning with a passion that surprised even her. "You're my other half, and this hotel, this whole godforsaken plane of existence, would be a much darker place without you."

Her heart swelled at his words, the warmth of his love wrapping around her like a blanket. But she couldn't shake the doubt that had taken root. She tried to smile, but it came out wobbly. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the TV. "But I just don't feel like I deserve all this praise."

Alastor's eyes searched hers, his thumb brushing over her cheek. "You don't have to feel like you deserve it," he said, his voice firm. "You just have to accept it. And more importantly, believe it." He paused, his gaze intense. "Because I do. And if that's not enough for you, then I don't know what is."

Y/N sniffled, her eyes filling with fresh tears. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice cracking. "I just don't want to hold you back."

Alastor sighed, frustration momentarily flashing in his eyes. "That's not what this is about," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "I don't need a high-ranking demon by my side to feel complete. I need you, just as you are." He didn't want an apology; he wanted her to see herself the way he saw her.

Standing up, he offered her his hand. "Come on," he said, his voice softer now. "Let's get you to bed."

Her hand slipped into his, and she allowed him to pull her to her feet. His room was a sanctuary, a place where she felt safe and loved despite the chaos of Hell outside. She followed him down the hallway, the TV's noise fading behind them.

Once inside, Alastor helped her into bed, his movements careful and considerate. He knew she was fragile in that moment, and he didn't want to add to her pain of how overwhelmed she was.

After putting on some fresh night wear and doing some hair-care, (please be cannon), he sat beside her, stroking her hair gently as she curled into his side, her head resting on his broad chest. His heart beat a steady rhythm, a comforting metronome in the quiet of the night.

For a while, they just sat there, the TV forgotten, the words of Vox nothing but echoes in the back of their minds. Alastor’s touch was a balm to her soul, and she felt her breathing slow down, the tightness in her chest loosening. She listened to the steady thrum of his heart, feeling the warmth of his body seep into hers.

He leaned down and whispered into her ear, his voice a gentle lullaby that chased the shadows of doubt away. "You're perfect, just as you are," he said, his breath warm against her skin. "You don't need to be anyone else. I fell for you, all of you, not some ideal or some position."

He kissed her forehead softly, a gesture that spoke volumes more than any grandiose declaration. "Now, close your eyes," he murmured. "Let's get some rest."

Y/N nodded, feeling the weight of his words sink in. She closed her eyes, allowing the comfort of his presence to wash over her. His hand remained in her hair, the strokes growing slower as she drifted towards sleep.

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END NOTES: I write this in 20 minutes at 2:00 am because i felt bad that i haven’t posted a fanfic of Alastor in over a month… 2 months. I’m sorry. HOPE YOU LIKED IT???!!!!! :D

-Genderlessdude92

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MASTERLIST

Me after seeing that you didn’t…l-leave a like a-and didnt repost if you think it was just that good and d-didn’t share any c-comments about my f-f-f-f-fanfic…? —>

[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 15 (18+)

a/n: thank you @bahablastplz for editing! i apologize for the delay. my work schedule goes back to normal next month so i'll have my head back on straight then. thank you for your patience! i hope you enjoy the chapter :)

Summary: Welcome to Sigma Kappa Zeta, the most popular fraternity on campus. When you, down on your luck and looking for a place to live, see their ad for ‘IN-HOUSE STAY’. You're one of the four girls chosen and find that your duties for the rest of the school year will be cooking, cleaning, and pleasing your assigned house members: Hyunjin & Chan.

[ read chapter fourteen here ]

Chapter Fifteen: Of Showers and Cabins

Tuesday, November 14th

You’re in the living room with Han, Felix, Hyunjin, Jeongin, Changbin and Charlotte. Han gathered you all to practice an upcoming presentation for his public speaking class. As you watch him discuss his chosen topic of Greek Mythology (accompanied by a PowerPoint on the TV behind him), you wonder when his nerves are going to set in, when he’s going to slip up or stumble over his words—he never does. None of the members interject, taunt or tease him.

Han is confident in front of them. Perhaps because of them. He has no problem being the center of attention in the house, around his friends. On his own in front of strangers must be another thing entirely, apparently.  

After he’s finished, the boys offer suggestions on things he could make clearer or that are not necessary to mention. You’ve seen how they operate together—typically silly beyond belief but at the end of the day, they’re always there for each other. Still, it surprises you how gentle they are with him, knowing he’s facing something that makes him uncomfortable.

Han thanks everyone for their time before sitting on the sectional between Changbin and Felix, and with his very next breath says how much he does not want to do this.

“If you bomb it, just remember you’ll probably never see those people again after you graduate,” Changbin tries to console him.

“Maybe not,” Han replies. “But they will have an embarrassing memory of me etched into their brain forever, if I do.”

“We could come sit in the back of the class,” Hyunjin offers. “For moral support.”

Hyunjin is laying down on the couch, legs resting on Changbin’s thighs and his head on your lap as you play with his hair. Jeongin and Charlotte are on the other side of you, cuddled together and in their own little world now.

“Please don’t do that.” Han shakes his head.

“Just relax…don’t overthink it,” Felix tells him, shrugging.

“Easy for you to say,” Han rolls his eyes. “If I, too, had a voice made for smutty audiobooks, I’d probably be giving speeches every day for fun.”

Changbin laughs, “He has a point, ‘Lix. Give us a ‘that’s my good girl’.”

Felix smiles devilishly, eyebrows raised as he leans across Han and motions with his finger for Changbin to come closer. In the deepest, most sultry tone you’ve ever heard from him he says, “That’s my fucking good girl.”

Changbin wiggles his body, as if shivers are running through him and Felix lets out a boisterous laugh.

“Just get through it,” Felix leans back and returns his attention to Han, “and next week we’ll have a nice break at the cabin.”

“Cabin?” You ask.

“Oh, shit,” Hyunjin says, looking up at you and offers a weak smile. “I forgot to tell you.”

You smack him on the head, and he flinches.

“They just decided on it a few days ago,” he attempts to defend himself.

“For Thanksgiving weekend,” Felix informs you. “It’s maybe about an hour and a half away from here. But if you’re going home to visit family that’s fine, of course.”

You hadn’t gone home for Thanksgiving since freshman year. It’s too short of a time span, with most of it spent in the airport. And God forbid there are delays.

“No, I hadn’t planned to,” you tell him.

“Good. ‘Cause I make an amazing peach cobbler,” he does the chef’s kiss motion. “You wouldn’t wanna miss it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

You look down at Hyunjin, shaking your head in mock disappointment.

“I’m sorry?” He attempts puppy dog eyes.

“Oh, you will be. Sorry and broke.” You retort.

Thursday, November 16th

You’ve returned home from your morning class and it’s no surprise Hyunjin is still sleeping. You’re in the girls’ room doing homework and waiting for him to wake up. Rhiannon is in the den with you, click-clacking away on her keyboard. The others are either in class or out of the house.

It’s nearly 1:00pm when you receive a text from Hyunjin.

Are you not back yet?

It makes you smile—picturing him waking up in bed alone, knowing you should be back from school by now and expecting you to be there, snuggling up with him.  

I’m in the den, doing homework.

You sleep too much.

No such thing. I’m gonna hop in the shower…lunch when I’m out?

Of course. I got you.

And yes, you do. You have him. You will whip him up a lunch of his choosing, after business is handled. Now that half the members are out of the competition, you don’t think he’ll object as heavily to losing. You’ve been waiting for this day—you know his Thursday routine. He sleeps in, showers, eats, then goes to class. Now is the perfect time to take action.

“Rhi,” you call out to her, spinning around in your chairs.

“Hmm?” Is her reply, but she doesn’t take her gaze away from her computer screen.

“I’m going up now.”

She finally turns around to look at you, “You got this.” She gives you a thumbs up and a wink.

You exit the den and head upstairs. You’re not sure if this is allowed, but there was never anything said about areas of the house specifically being off limits to the girls. You’d never seen or caught any of the members in the girl’s bathroom with their assignees, though.

When you make it to the second floor, you hear music playing at the end of the hall. You tiptoe towards the bathroom and can hear the shower water running, too. You take a deep breath as you turn the doorknob, hoping that your calculations of who’s home and who’s away is correct. Since the boys also share a bathroom, you have to pray that Hyunjin is alone.

You tentatively step inside, peeking your head in first to make sure no one else is there. The coast is clear and Hyunjin is already in the shower, thankfully. Their bathroom is set up exactly like the girls—multiple sinks, showers, and separate rooms for the toilets. The glass surrounding the shower is fogged up, keeping your entrance a secret. You quietly close and lock the door behind you.

Hyunjin is obliviously singing along to the Mac Miller song blaring from the speaker. You quickly slip out of your clothes and set them in a pile on the sink before making your way to the shower door.

You grip the handle and gently pull the door open. Hyunjin is standing directly under the showerhead with his back towards you. His head is tilted back, eyes shut as the water pours over him. You have a fraction of a second to enjoy the sight because as soon as the cold air hits him he whips around, screams and holds his hands up in defense.

You immediately burst into laughter.

“Y/N,” he says, exhaling lightly when realization sets in that it’s you.

You enter the shower and close the door behind you, sealing the steam and warmth back in. He’s leaning against the wall, hand now over his chest and just completely…exposed. You don’t let the opportunity to run your eyes over his body pass.   

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” you say with a small shrug and smile.

He clicks his tongue, “Liar.”

He pushes away from the wall, standing under the water again. You step around him, positioning yourself between him and the shower wall.

“This is it, huh?” He asks, seeing the look in your eyes.

You nod in response and start to lower yourself to your knees.

“Uh-uh,” he shakes his head and grabs your waist to stop you.

He pulls you up so you’re standing and covers your mouth with his. His tongue glides over your lips and your eyes flutter shut as you relax and let him take the lead. You don’t have to worry about what comes next with him. You know he’s about to make you feel like you never existed until you met him.

“You first,” he says, breaking the kiss. 

He backs you up against the wall and gets down on his knees. You step your legs further apart to allow him better access. He slides one hand up your stomach to cup your breast, pinching your nipple and watching with a smile as you push your hips forward in an attempt to get his mouth right where you want it.

He doesn’t make you wait. He latches on to your pussy with his mouth and your hands immediately go to his head, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling at the roots. You lean your head back against the wall and let out a sigh, feeling his tongue slide back and forth, up and down between your folds.

You hadn’t exactly been fucking your ex every single day, however since moving into the SKZ house you’d grown accustomed to some kind of regular sexual activity. You hadn’t gone more than seven days without it since being here. It’s been sixteen, and it felt like an eternity.

You turn your gaze down to Hyunjin. He’s focused on the task at hand as the water cascades down his back. With your hands still in his hair, you press him against you harder, rocking your hips against his face. He chuckles at this. His other hand slips between your legs to find your opening and pushes two fingers inside of you.

“You missed me, jagiya?” He murmurs, looking up at you with those smiling brown eyes.

“Yes,” you reply without hesitation.

“Good,” he places a kiss on your clit then returns his focus to fucking you with his fingers and playing with your breasts, your nipples.

One, maybe two, songs play out on the speaker as he continues to pleasure you. Alternating from using his fingers to his mouth, never seeming to grow tired of the work he’s putting in. You want to let him finish; you want to come standing over him like this. But you need him to fuck you.

Sure, he’s technically out of the game now due to his actions. You’ve got to see this through, though, to make sure he’s out-out. 

You release the hairs on his head and grab his wrist to stop him. You motion for him to stand, and he does, popping his fingers in his mouth to lick your juices off. He kisses you again, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

You push him away and turn around, pressing your chest against the wall and turning your head to the side. You arch your back, pushing your ass against him. He reaches up to move the shower head out of the way a bit as his other hand rubs his dick up and down your slit. He revels in the feeling for a moment, teasing you.

When his dick reaches your opening, he thrusts his hips forward and you moan at the feel of him inside of you, arching your back even more.

“Fuck,” he says, shaking his head as he holds your hips still. “I’m not sure how long—”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “You can make it up to me.”

That’s all he needs to hear.

He starts fucking you—pulling out, thrusting in. Gripping your hips, your breasts, hands wandering all over your body. It’s like he can’t decide what he wants to do, but it’s been so long he wants to do it all.

One hand makes its way down around your waist to stimulate your clit, rubbing circles as he continues thrusting. He leans forward and showers your back in the sweetest, softest kisses. Combined with everything else and how long it’s been, it’s enough. Your palms are flat against the shower wall, helping you push your hips back against him. You feel your legs start to shake and Hyunjin gets the hint. He doesn’t change anything he’s doing, knowing what you’re feeling right now is what will make you come.

“Fuck, fuck,” he exhales heavily as your pussy clenches around his dick. He can’t hold back any longer. He thrusts into you with reckless abandon, gripping your hips as he releases himself into you.

When he’s done, he wraps his arm under your breasts and pulls you back against him. He moves the showerhead back in place, so the warm water falls over both of you.

“Fine. I guess I’ll do the dishes for you,” he jokes, leaning down to rest his cheek against yours.

“At least you don’t have to hold back anymore,” you reply.

“That’s true. I want you in the room ready for me when I’m back from class.”

You turn your head to look at him—he’s smiling.

He had never demanded such a thing before. Not that it’s much of a demand…more of a request. Close enough for Hyunjin.  

Thanksgiving Weekend

Thursday, November 23rd

The house is just as chaotic as you imagined it would be this morning. Twelve people up before the crack of dawn loading cars with food and luggage while still half asleep. Chan instructs you and the other girls to leave first in the car with all the food to get started on the meal. He plugs in the address on the GPS and then you’re off.

The roads are relatively empty, so the drive takes just about an hour and a half. The last fifteen minutes are spent off the main road, driving slowly up a rocky path surrounded by trees.

“Now that’s a cabin,” Rhiannon says as you park the car.

It looks like a log cabin in that the exterior and pillars are all made of wood, except the top portion of the home is triangular with wooden awnings on the sides that cover the wraparound porch on the second level. There are several large windows with no coverings—probably a good thing the location is remote, so no one has to worry about neighbors looking in. In the front yard is a patio table and fire pit surrounded by chairs.

You all exit the car and start lugging the food to the front door. You enter the code on the keypad Chan had texted you and it unlocks.

The interior holds up the log cabin feel with a wide, open floor plan, but all the furniture and appliances make it feel modern. You all momentarily abandon the food at the door to explore the inside. There are four bedrooms, one downstairs and three on the second level, the third level has a loft with a computer desk and ping pong table.

You wonder if this is a rental property or if the SKZ fraternity owns it. You wouldn’t be shocked by the latter, but it’s none of your business.

After touring the cabin, the four of you get back to business and haul the food inside to start prepping the meal. The menu is a mix of traditional American and Korean food for the holiday.

When the boys arrive an hour later, they’ve stopped for a few essentials—mainly alcohol. They unload all the luggage then crowd in the kitchen and start debating over who will sleep where.

“Room Roulette?” Han suggests.

“Assignees and their members?” Jeongin says, winking at Charlotte.

“You’re already out—of course you want that,” Lee Know rebuffs while vigorously working on stuffing the turkey.

“Don’t think you can resist?” Allie asks, to which he rolls his eyes.

She still hasn’t been able to get him to break, but she’s been persistent.

“Ladies choice?” Hyunjin offers as he comes up behind you, standing at the stove, and wraps his hands around your waist.

You nudge him away playfully with your shoulder, but he stays put a moment longer, kissing the back of your neck.

“Does it really matter?” Changbin speaks up. “Everyone will just fall asleep wherever anyways.”

They continue back and forth until they’ve all had enough and just stare at Chan to make a decision.

He points to Jeongin, Han and Hyunjin, “Kai bai bo.”

The three of them stand on separate sides of the island and begin playing rock, paper, scissors. Han is out first. Before Hyunjin and Jeongin start, Jeongin has Charlotte kiss his hands for luck. It must work, because Hyunjin loses.  

Jeongin grins, heart melting dimples on display, and gives a satisfied nod.

“That’s settled then—assignees and their members,” Chan announces.

You’re still focused on the food you’re cooking, but you want so badly to turn and look at Chan to see his expression. Sharing a room with him and Hyunjin? Is he happy with the result?

The rest of the afternoon is spent with everyone helping make something. When it’s finally time for dinner, you sit between Hyunjin and Chan. You’re thankful to be here with all of them. You think back to what Chan said on your first day at the house—that you’d gain a sense of community, and you really have.

The room assignment winds up being a nonfactor. Everyone is so full and damn near comatose that, true to Changbin’s words, they fall asleep wherever they land. You wake up on the couch in the living room and make your way back to the room, but neither Hyunjin nor Chan are there. 

The next day, everyone kind of does their own thing. You go hiking with Hyunjin and a few others while everyone else stays at the house. That night, after dinner, everyone is gathered in the living room drinking and playing games. Or at least you thought everyone was. Looking around the room, you don’t see Chan.

He was here earlier, you’re certain. Where had he gone off to?

It’s closing in on the end of the month and Chan and Lee Know are the only ones that have not yet lost the competition. The others are preoccupied with their game, so you decide to go find him. Time is running out for the month, you’re extremely aware of that. And you have a little bit of liquid courage on your side now.

You take another shot of the strawberry flavored soju before getting up from the couch. He’s not in the kitchen, dining room, or the porch. You make your way up to the room you’ve been assigned on the second floor.

There he is.

He’s laying on the bed on his stomach, scrolling through his phone when you walk in. At the sound, he promptly turns around and sits up.

“Are you bored of us?”

“Nah,” he says lightly. “Just don’t wanna get too drunk again.”

Meaning he doesn’t want to lose control of himself or say anything he might regret again, you assume.

“Would you mind some company?”

You sit next to him on the bed, draping one leg over his and looking up at him with a lazy, tipsy smile.

“PG company?” He chuckles lightly, placing his hand on your leg.

“PG-13, maybe?” You counter, sliding his hand up towards your thigh.

The feel of his fingertips gliding across your skin sends an achy feeling to your core. You want to him to press his fingers against your clit to release the ache.

He smiles back at you and hooks a finger under your chin to pull your face closer to his. Since that day in the closet, he had at least been more open to semi-steamy make out sessions but always pulled away before you could go too far.

You close the distance between you, locking your lips with his as you swing your other leg across him to straddle him. He allows it. You wrap your arms around his neck as you deepen the kiss, sliding your tongue past his lips. You can taste the alcohol on him, too, but it’s faint. Maybe you should have brought some in here. It still counts even if he’s drunk, right?

In any other context, that sounds terrible.  

You start to rock your hips against him, moaning when you feel his cock hardening through his sweatpants. His hands suddenly grip your hips to hold you in place.

“Chan, please,” you whisper. You kiss along his cheek, down to his neck, lightly nipping with your teeth. “I miss you fucking me.”

“No,” he says, but it sounds half-assed, not even half of the conviction you know he can muster. He shakes his head but his cock pressing against your thighs say otherwise. You grind against it again.

“It’s just a stupid competition,” you attempt your best pouty face. You’ve never known these antics to work with him, but you’re pulling at straws now.

“It’s more than that for me,” he replies softly.

“You have to win?”

“I have to resist.”

You furrow your brow.

“Please?” You slip your hand between your legs and squeeze his cock.

He sucks in a breath and in one swift motion, moves you off him and stands up. Before you can even get another word out, he’s walking towards the door, shutting it not so quietly behind him.

You sigh, running your hand through your hair. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pushed so much, so fast. You have six days left to get to him and right now, it feels like an impossible task. You knew he could hold back, but his words made it seem like it’s more than that. Resisting? Resisting what? You?

You sit for a while, wondering if he’ll come back and why this seems like such a big deal to him. After a few minutes you stand in defeat and walk to the door. As you reach for the knob, the door swings open again, startling you.

Chan is there, ushering a confused Hyunjin into the room.

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin asks you, sounding concerned.

“Yeah? I’m fine.”

Hyunjin turns back to look at Chan with a confused look on his face.

Chan shrugs, his eyes move from you back to Hyunjin, “Y/N needs you.”

There’s something about his tone of voice that you can’t quite pin down. He sounds…dejected almost.

You try to make sense of Chan’s thought process. You plead with him to fuck you and he won’t…so he gets the next best thing in his mind? He knows you’re turned on, that you need him, but he can’t—won’t—give in. So he brings the only other person that can satisfy you right now. Why does it feel like a slap in the face, though? With his tone and the look on his face it’s as if he’s saying, you wanna be fucked so bad? Here’s Hyunjin.

Hyunjin turns back to you and smiles lazily. He reaches for your waist, pulls you to him and kisses you. You’re still surprised by what is playing out, eyes open, looking at Chan with Hyunjin’s lips on yours. Chan breaks eye contact and turns his head as he leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

You shut your eyes and try your best to shake the thoughts of Chan and focus on Hyunjin. It doesn’t take much trying on your part, truthfully. You could lose yourself in trying to solve the puzzle that is Chan. The only solace from the madness he conjures up inside of you is the man still standing in front of you. The one who hasn’t left.

“How can I be of service?” Hyunjin asks, nuzzling at your neck.

You can’t help but smile at his words, his actions. He’s always ready to please you and it’s never been complicated.

Sunday, November 26th

Chan did not come back to the room that night. He didn’t sleep in the room with you and Hyunjin the entire weekend, as a matter of fact. His behavior with you throughout the day was the same as usual, though. It didn’t appear that he was upset. He even joked around with you and offered a seat on his lap when all the other chairs on the patio were taken. He’s really acting like he has something to prove by abstaining this month, and you really wish you knew what it was.

Maybe you’re thinking too deeply about it…but how can you not? You also don’t want to ruin the growth you’ve made with him, so you don’t bring it up. You do, however, have a plan to hopefully end this silly competition once and for all. To see if you can push him over the edge.

After you arrive home in the afternoon, Chan leaves with some of the other members to run an errand and you know that this is your moment. Hyunjin is somewhat surprised when you tell him you’ll be staying with Chan for the night. He doesn’t question it, just kisses your forehead and says he’ll see you tomorrow.

You shower and take the items you’ll need to Chan’s room and set up as quickly as possible. You’re not sure what time he will be back, so you have no choice but to sit and wait once you’re in place.

You can feel your heart pumping in your ears. A million thoughts are racing through your mind, trying to understand how you got here. Hoping Chan has the reaction you want. You want to win the competition, sure, who wouldn’t in this situation? But you’re also eager to please Chan in a way you’ve never tried before. To give him complete control of you.  

You’re excited. You’re nervous. You’re so out of your element.

You shift around in his bed, really wanting to check the time on your phone but unable to. Your hands are linked together with the furry black handcuffs you got from the mall, looped through a space in his headboard. You have waited all month for this. To catch him off guard, with a sight that is hopefully so shocking he will not be able to resist.

Though you tried to seduce him at other times throughout the month, you still had this wildcard up your sleeve in case none of your attempts worked. Which they hadn’t. So here you are, lying in his bed in skimpy black lingerie. It’s a one piece, lace body suit that’s cut out around the breasts so they’re on full display. The area between your legs is exposed, so you keep your legs bent, knees pressed together. The ensemble is accompanied by black, knee-high stockings and a garter belt.

You could hardly believe the sight looking at your own reflection. You just have to hope it’s enough. And fucking pray no one randomly decides to come in Chan’s room since you had no choice but to leave the door unlocked. You’d be fucking mortified.

Another few more minutes pass and you hear car doors closing in the driveway. Your heartbeat picks up again, fraught with anticipation.

It feels like a lifetime passes before you hear footsteps outside the door. Chan’s laughing at something someone said as he approaches. At least he’s in a good mood, maybe this will work. You sit up as straight as you can with your hands hanging above you.

You hold your breath as the doorknob turns while simultaneously trying to figure out what to do with your face. A cute look? A look of innocence? Seduction? You bite your bottom lip between your teeth, attempting to hide your inner panic and that’s the look you’re stuck with as he enters.

His eyes land on you—exposed and cuffed to his bed—his laugh abruptly stops. His smile falters.

He exhales a loud sigh, drops his head back and stares at the ceiling. You’re chewing on the inside of your lip now as your nerves take over. This was not the reaction you had anticipated. Is he angry?  Frustrated? Put off?

Maybe you shouldn’t have welcomed yourself into his bed. It’s not like you had an open invitation after the night he allowed you to sleep here with him. That hadn’t happened again since, and he hadn’t even mentioned it.

“Chan,” a timid voice says. It’s yours, but you hardly recognize it.

He straightens his head and looks at you again, eyes moving from your head, down to your stocking covered toes. He lets out another loud sigh and runs his hand through his hair. He shakes his head, blinking incredulously as he steps back and retreats from the room.

When the door closes, your heart sinks.

[ read chapter sixteen here ]

[ picture book for photos of the cabin and lingerie ]

a/n: please don't kill me. this one had to end on a cliffhanger. like, comment, reblog to show your support <3 what do we think, is chan coming back? or is he gonna win this thing?

taglist: @iflmho / @stayatinykatsy / @blackhairandbangs / @ayoitschannie / @idunnomanmynamewastaken / @charmer-c / @ihatemen55 / @channiesprincess / @channniesslefttt / @jiwoos-babygirl / @krayzieestay / @kayleefriedchicken / @sunnyhonie / @cotton-candycloudz / @lubsungie / @conwunder / @puckmaidens / @ashleighland / @hyunjiinnnn / @bmnyy / @ihrtlix / @maqqiekwon / @hynxnelly / @teti-menchon0604 / @you-make-skz-stay / @zandra-42 / @seungminindabuilding / @slytherinatheart / @loveuwoo / @hyunjinhoexxx / @chartrucewhore / @torothecatt / @fun-fanfics / @yaorzu-blog / @yjeonginlvr / @huneyeon / @kpop-kink / @tenshimara / @a-person-with-void / @ilovetheworldilivein / @dhillomilo / @skzfelixlove / @luvvvash / @blondechannie / @sailor--sun / @stephanieeeyang / @msauthor / @grlcbrd / @okkkcausewhet / @bangtancultsposts / @wannareadstories / @jenniferlr / @shroomcapp / @lyracarvahall / @palindrome969 / @grandma143

[da-rulah]

Rituale Septem - Day 6: Greed

Pairing: (Swiss x Dewdrop x f!reader)

Summary: Terzo takes a step back from guiding you in the ritual, but he fails to tell you why. He sends his Ghouls to you instead - luckily for you, those Ghouls know just what you need to forget about Papa Emeritus III. If even just for a moment...

Rating: Mature, MDNI 18+

Word Count: 8.3k

Warnings: Angst, threesome, fingering, oral (f receiving), squirting, p in v sex, double penetration, some m+m elements (potentially a sexual awakening...), double creampie, mind break, cum eating, multiple orgasms, overstimulation 

AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

A/N: Just popping here to say again, the Ghouls all have silver masks and are trainees under Terzo's reign for the time being. I don't know Terzo's Ghouls well enough to be able to write their characters. Thank you for understanding - Enjoy!🖤

Prev: Day 5 - Envy | Next: Day 7: Pride

October 30th 

What a fucking idiota. 

Terzo reprimanded himself as he stood in the doorway to his office. After a night of sleeplessness, tossing and turning with images of you screwing his half-brother or Satan-forbid, your tear-stained cheeks he’d missed when you watched him railing Christine in front of you, he was exhausted. It was karmic, and he knew that. He deserved it.  

He stared at the chairs in front of his desk, reliving the events of yesterday. He knew the mistakes he’d made, and he wasn’t sure how to make up for them. But Primo had been extremely useful and given him direction, at least for now. He would be taking a step back; you didn’t need him to complete your goal. 

“Good morning, Papa,” Christine greeted from behind him, somewhat hesitantly as if she knew of his fragile state of mind. Terzo jumped even at that, turning his head as if shaken from a dream.  

“Oh, uh... sì, buongiorno,” he dismissed her, stepping into his office and heading for his desk. Christine gingerly followed him in, standing between those damn chairs and the door.  

“Did, um... Did you talk to Sister ____?” she asked, worry in her tone.  

Terzo was instantly transported back to the moment he’d found you in Copia’s workshop, walking into... that. 

“Um... not exactly,” he sighed. Sister Christine rolled her eyes. 

“Papa, seriously? You can’t just hide with your tail between your legs, you should-” 

“She was a little busy,” he interrupted, sternly. “Don’t worry, Christine. I got what was coming to me.”  

Christine’s brows furrowed in confusion, her shoulders sagging in defeat. She saw the pained look on his face, how different he looked today. His face looked puffy with a lack of sleep, his paints thinly applied and not to the usual crisp standard. Even his hair wasn’t styled so neatly, parting in the middle and falling over his forehead. She wasn’t sure what had happened when he’d gone to find you yesterday, but she also knew she shouldn’t ask.  

“O-okay... Well, Sister Imperator left a note for you on my desk this morning,” Terzo didn’t hide the groan of disdain at the mention of Imperator, “I know, I know... She requires your assistance in setting up the Great Hall for the All Hallow’s Ball tomorrow. Apparently, your opinions on decorative party supplies are a necessity.”  

“Va bene, (Okay,) I’ll go soon. I just need to do something first... Would you leave me?” he asked.  

“Of course,” she nodded with a sympathetic smile, and left him to his own solitude.  

Terzo dug around his desk for his stationary set, pulling out a clean parchment and his expensive ink pen, and began to write...  

Sorella ______,  

I have every belief you can finish this on your own. You do not need my assistance, or my guidance. With just two sins left, I’m positive you can achieve what you wish for. 

Enjoy the Ball tomorrow evening.  

Papa Emeritus III 

He had hoped his belief in you would shine through his brief note. Apologies felt like an insult to your intelligence, and any kind of confession of feelings felt too distracting to your task at hand. This would have to do. 

He folded the parchment, sealing it with a fresh wax seal, and got up to leave, heading towards the Great Hall. He would hand the note to one of his Ghouls on his way and ask them to drop it off, leaving you to complete whichever of the two sins you chose today in peace, and without his interference. 

He owed you that much, he thought. 

The knock at your door that morning startled you, completely unexpected. A part of you, childishly, hoped that it was him... Maybe he’d come to apologise, giving you an opportunity to do the same. Hell, even if he showed up pretending nothing had happened and wanted to jump right back into the ritual, you’d let him. You just wished you’d see his face on the other side of that door; the rest you’d figure out.  

But you were sorely disappointed.  

Instead, Swiss and Dewdrop stood shoulder to shoulder, a piece of folded parchment in Swiss’ hand. 

“Good morning, Sister ______!” Swiss chirped, entirely too giddily for such an early call. Dewdrop remained as silent and stoic as ever. 

“Oh... Hi.” You sounded disappointed even to your own ears. Swiss’ signature smile dropped, and behind his mask his eyes squinted in suspicion.  

“Well... okay, then...” he shook it off, unsure if he should pry. “Got a thing for ya!” he held the parchment out to you, notably with the wax seal facing up and proudly displaying Papa’s crest indented into it. You stared at it for a beat too long, and Swiss shook it in front of your eyes, awakening you from your own analytical trance. You took it from him, stepping back into your apartment and dropping lazily with a huff onto your couch. Swiss invited himself in, sitting on the opposite end whilst Dew hovered in the doorway, shutting the door behind him.  

You popped the seal on the paper, unfolding it to see Papa’s handwriting in a short and frankly abrupt note. Your eyes skimmed it, reading and re-reading over and over, and getting visibly more annoyed with each read through. 

“I have every belief you can finish this on your own.” 

On your own.  

Was he fucking serious? He was just... abandoning you? No apologies, no explanations... he couldn’t even be bothered to show his fucking face today, getting his Ghouls to do his dirty work?  

“You fucking asshole...” you muttered, screwing the note up tightly in your fist and throwing it to the floor, slamming your back against the couch and folding your arms like a toddler in a tantrum.  

An awkward silence fell over the room, losing yourself in your own thoughts again. So, he was just going to leave you to perform pride and greed alone, with no guidance, not even a hint at what the hell you could possibly do for either one? He'd ruined it. He was spoiling the entire ritual, after you’d done everything you could to stay on task and with just two days left.  

Your mind worked itself into a dizzying array of possible scenarios you might be able to play out for the remaining sins, trying desperately to think of something, anything you could do today for either one. Nothing stuck, too complicated by the confusing mix of anger and disappointment in the pit of your stomach. 

You’d almost forgotten about the two Ghouls in your presence until Swiss spoke up. 

“Sister, are you alright? What did he do?” Swiss’ hand rested on your shoulder, bringing you back to reality.  

“He’s just... leaving me to it,” you spat. Swiss was even more confused.  

“To what?” he asked. “I don’t understand...” he looked up to Dew, who just shrugged with a shake of his head.  

And so, you explained. You told them of the ritual, of each sin you’d performed – conveniently leaving out of course the part where you were now harbouring some very confusing feelings about Papa Emeritus III – and what it was all for. To your surprise, Swiss and Dew listened along attentively, without judgement. Dew came to sit beside you on the armrest of the couch too, his attention on you and allowing you to vent. You’d half expected some clever quips to come from Swiss but no, they both just listened. 

“And now, for some reason, he’s just abandoned me and said ‘okay, ______, figure it out yourself’.” Of course, you had an idea what that reason was... clearly you’d pissed him off, but he’d started it when he dove dick first into your friend and laughed at you for having any kind of negative reaction!  

Reality set in, and tears welled in your eyes. You really were going to fumble this ritual, now. You wouldn’t get to hear the Dark One’s voice, you wouldn’t get the guidance you had been so desperate for and frankly, you were beginning to question once again your place in the Ministry. You may as well start packing your bags now... 

Swiss and Dew shared a look you missed; one of sympathy, like they both wanted to do something to console you. They didn’t want to see a sister lose her faith, particularly not one as kind to the Ghouls as you.  

“Well hey, maybe we can help think of something?” Swiss slapped Dew’s back from behind you to encourage him. He nodded vigorously, placing his hand on your other shoulder. “What sins do you have left?” 

“Pride and greed...” Your voice shook with unshed tears. “What the hell am I going to do?” 

Swiss thought for a moment, shuffling closer to you on the couch to wrap an arm around you and pull you to lay on his chest. He rubbed his hand up and down your arm while you burrowed your face into his neck, allowing yourself a moment to collect yourself, take some breaths.  

“Pride is a tough one, that’s about thinking of yourself before another, like being narcissistic or vain, but it can come down to something as simple as self-respect. How you embody that in sin, I don’t really know. I always thought it was a stupid one. What’s wrong with loving yourself, hm? Never got God’s problem with that. Think he just didn’t want people thinking they were better than him...” he scoffed. “Ironic that he made pride a sin when there’s never been a deity with a higher superiority complex.” 

You chuckled at that; he was right. But it wasn’t giving you much confidence in how to perform this... 

“But greed is easier. That’s about having an excessive, selfish desire to acquire something... Like power or money. Could be... pleasure...” he hesitated there, looking down at you through his mask. “I mean, you could... desire excessive pleasure?” he asked.  

You sat up, brain ticking over what he’d said. He was right again, of course. You could...  

“I think that, if you wanted to... we could help with that?” Swiss tested the waters, looking up at Dew who nodded slowly in agreement. “Only if you want us to, of course...”  

“You’d do that for me?” you asked, sitting up and looking between the two Ghouls. The idea of it far from horrified you. In fact, you had been a little disappointed after your encounter with Phantom that you were too exhausted to find out what Swiss and Dew could do for you. And let’s face it, you were running out of options and time. You had no doubt at all in their ability to enact this sin with you, and you trusted them enough to do so.  

“Sweetheart...” Swiss moved in closer, his lips hovering by your ear, tone deepening significantly, “Do you have any idea how disappointed we were when we realised our dear Phantom had exhausted you the other day?” 

Swiss’ breath was impossibly hot against your neck, spreading goosebumps over your skin where he moved your hair behind your shoulder with one finger. Dew slid onto the couch on your other side, trapping you between the two of them. He stayed silent as he always did, but his eyes sparkled with an interest that hadn’t been there a few moments ago.  

“I-I was disappointed... too...” you stuttered as you felt Swiss’ teeth nipping at your ear lobe, Dew’s hand coming to rest on your knee and drawing delicate patterns into your skin where the hem of your skirt couldn’t quite reach. This was moving fast, but frankly, you didn’t have time to hesitate – you'd only talk yourself out of it, and you didn’t want to do that. 

“We could... make you feel good, Sister...” Swiss teased, pressing his lips to the spot on your neck under your ear that sent a wave of arousal through your body. “Just say yes...” he whispered into your neck, drawing patterns with the tip of his nose while Dew’s fingertips travelled up your thigh.  

You had to admit, you were easily affected by the Ghouls and their small gestures of affection. At a time when affection was exactly what you needed, you weren’t all that concerned where you got it from. Clearly, it wouldn’t come from the one place you wish it would... And this served a purpose, didn’t it? A means to an end, if you will. Why deny yourself the pleasure? Why deny yourself all the work you’d already put in?  

“Fuck it...” you breathed, rolling your head back as Dew attached his lips to the other side of your neck, suckling softly at the skin where previous bruises had yellowed.  

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, we intend to...” Swiss promised, a new fervour in the way he kissed your neck, his hand coming to grip your waist where Dew was pressed against you.  

You were surrounded by them both, their hands wandering, their mouths working you to a heightened state of arousal. Dew’s hand began to squeeze at your inner thigh under your skirt, his nails scratching the skin and coaxing your thighs apart for him.  

You turned your head to face Dew, his eyes hooded and hazy behind the glint of his silver mask. You could see him biting his lip, searching your face for any protests while his hands squeezed and scratched higher and higher up the inside of your thigh but he found nothing. Instead, with a particular sharp scratch to the skin you found yourself whining and latching your lips to his, pulling him to you by his uniform. Dew groaned, shoving his palm against your clothed mound for you to rut yourself again.  

Swiss chuckled against your neck, sinking his teeth into the flesh just enough to cause a sharpness, never enough to burst the skin. You weren’t sure you’d mind if he did at this point, but instead he laved his tongue over the spot, gripping at your waist even tighter and grinding his crotch into your hipbone.  

If anyone had seen the three of you right now, they’d accuse you of being horny teenagers, dry humping and making out unrestricted and messy. Truth be told you allowed yourself to lose control, trusting that the two Ghouls entrapping you would take care of you.  

Dew’s hand pressed so tightly against your heat, pressing your panties into you and dampening them on your arousal. You ground your hips as you kissed him, tongues dancing together whilst shockwaves pulsed through your clit. Your whimpers were swallowed by Dew’s mouth, earning a low growl from deep within his chest. 

Swiss’ cock had hardened in his pants, still grinding into your hip from the angle he was sat beside you. He’d curled himself around you in a way that allowed him access still to your neck, stretched to accommodate Dew on the other side. He purred into your neck, his instincts taking over.  

“Sister, tell us what you want...” he pleaded, reaching to grope at your breast through your habit. You parted from Dew and turned your head to him.  

“Make me feel good... Until I beg you to stop,” you grinned wildly, grabbing him by his waistcoat and crashing your lips to his. Dew watched hungrily, his hand becoming more calculated and switching to his fingers circling your clit over your panties. Your body writhed where you sat, overwhelmed with the feeling of hands everywhere, pleasure tingling through every nerve.  

As your tongue swirled with Swiss’, he unbuttoned your habit, reaching underneath to push his hand under the cup of your bra – another matching piece that Dew was marvelling now he could see your panties under his hand. Swiss broke your kiss, getting a good look at your body now exposed to him. 

“Such a pretty set, sweetheart,” he practically sang, ogling the deep green embroidery of the set you’d put on today, still dressing up for whoever had been lucky enough to see them today. “You put this on for your Papa?” he teased.  

Now, logically you knew Swiss meant no harm with that question. He wasn’t teasing maliciously.  

And yet, somewhat illogically, the mere mention of his name was enough to rouse an anger in you that had you slapping your hand over his lips and holding him still in front of you.  

“Don’t fucking mention him. Just give me what I want, Swiss,” you demanded, resigning to your greed already. You pushed him with all your might, ignoring Dew for the moment and forcing Swiss onto his back. His eyes sparkled behind his mask with mischief, hands reaching for your bare thighs as you straddled him and ripped your unbuttoned habit from your arms, throwing it to the floor. 

Dew quickly moved with you, sitting himself between Swiss’ ankles and shuffling until his chest met your back. His hands gripped your hips and sat you down on Swiss’ bulge, controlling the way you ground your pussy against him. For all of his silence, Dew’s actions spoke volumes. He guided you as you rutted against Swiss, taking your pleasure while he nipped into your bare shoulder.  

With a rhythm created, Dew could focus his hands on your body, removing your bra and pinching at your pebbled nipples. Swiss groaned beneath you, the sight of you mixed with the grind on his cock an intoxicating cocktail.  

“Dew... Dew, get these off her, man,” he pants, pinging at the waistband of your panties. Dew complied, dropping his hands to them and ripping without hesitation, tearing into the material and flinging it elsewhere. “Hope you didn’t like them too much, sweetheart,” Swiss smirked, undoing the zipper of his trousers between you and hissing when you rubbed your folds over his knuckles as he did.  

As Swiss began to undress himself, Dew took it upon himself to make sure you weren’t going a second without stimulation. From behind you, he slid his hands under you, pushing his fingers forwards through your soaked folds until his fingertips circled your clit. Your back arched at the sensation, reaching behind you and around the back of his neck to pull his chest against you. He alternated between dragging his fingers through your slick folds and circling your clit over and over whilst you dug your nails into the back of his head, pulling his lips down to yours to muffle your moans in a desperate kiss.  

Beneath you, Swiss managed to remove his waistcoat and shirt and push his pants down enough to release his length. He stroked himself as he watched the display above him, seeing you get closer and closer to your first orgasm. He began to talk you through it, coaxing you more and more while Dew’s fingers took on a mind of their own.  

“Feels good, huh, baby?” he laughed after a particularly lavish moan escaped your lips and your hips bucked against Dew’s fingers. “Push ‘em inside, Dew. Let her feel you,” he encouraged. Dew did just that, slipping two fingers inside your heat from behind you. You cursed into his mouth, clenching around the intrusion that felt so fucking welcome you almost toppled over the edge just at that.  

Dew growled, curling his fingers as he fucked them in and out of you. The coil inside you was tightening impossibly fast, and within a minute you knew you were set to burst. 

“Are you gonna cum on his fingers, sweetheart? Come on... Give us one,” Swiss cheered you on, stroking himself and using his free hand to cup your breast, pinching your nipple to punctuate his words. When you bucked and writhed, orgasm finally hitting you he praised you, “There we go, hm? Good girl... Cum on his fingers baby, that’s it...” 

You whined and clenched on Dew, biting down on his bottom lip and he fucked his hand into you to get you through it. When the pleasure ebbed away, you leaned back against him, turning your head to look down at Swiss who was smirking, slowly stroking at his now leaking cock. Now able to see his chest, you realised just how built he was underneath his shirt and waistcoat. A thin layer of chest hair contoured his chest and abdomen, right down to where he was touching himself; it drove you wild. 

“Good?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.  

“Mhm. Want more,” you grinned, bending at the waist to hover over him, your hand swatted his away as you leaned.  

“More?” he teased, “Greedy little girl...” You giggled, beginning to stroke him and pushing your lips to his to silence him. Behind you, Dew was busy taking in the view as he sucked on the fingers he’d dove inside you, cleaning himself off. From where you bent over Swiss, he had the perfect view of your rounded and still bruised ass and your exposed, glistening cunt. Tasting you on his fingers ignited something inside him, growling as he licked every last drop.  

Swiss noticed his friend’s eyes trained on your core, hearing his growls and broke your kiss to nod in his direction and show you what you’d caused. You followed his gaze and watched the man who was hypnotised by your taste... 

“I think he likes you,” Swiss flirted, “why don’t you let him have a taste, sweetheart? I’m sure he can give you another with his tongue...” A deeper, louder growl came from Dew’s throat. “See?” 

Looking behind you, you saw Dew’s gaze had fallen on yours as if waiting for permission... “Don’t stop until I’m cumming, Dew,” you demanded, wiggling your hips in front of him.  

Like a man possessed, Dew shuffled back on the couch and bent down, shoving his masked face into your ass and laving his tongue over your core. You fell forward at the force, slamming to Swiss’ chest where he held you tightly against him. Laying against him you could do nothing to pump his length in your hand, but Swiss didn’t mind. Plenty of time for that later... For now, he was enjoying the look on your face as Dew dove into your pussy, sucking and licking and nipping at your clit.  

“Fuck, Dew... So good...” you whined; Dew’s grip on your ass tightened, his nails burning into the bruises still littering your skin. By now the pain of the bruises didn’t bother you so much, only heightening the depravity you found yourself in. Your mind wondered over the last few days, how you’d been used and fucked every single day in the filthiest ways. You’d tried things you never had before, surprised yourself with new kinks and confidence and allowed yourself the freedom to sleep with whoever aroused you at the time. You’d never felt so empowered... 

The memories served to drive you mad with arousal, wanting nothing more than to cum again on Dew’s tongue. Once again, you found yourself close to an end, rutting your hips against his chin. The movement of your hips created short, small ripple-effect moments through your body that were enough to give Swiss a little bit of friction, cock still wrapped up in your hand. He hummed in delight, pressing his lips to yours in a messy kiss.  

“How does she taste, Dew?” he called down to his friend, knowing full well he wouldn’t asnwer with words. Dew growled again, lost in his own greed. He needed more of you, all of you. Your taste was sending him on a straight road to insanity. “Good, it seems...” he smiled sadistically.  

Dew was becoming feral behind you as you rutted against his chin. His tongue dove into you, the nose of his mask adding to your pleasure and winding your coil back up once again until you lost it... You cried out against Swiss’ chest, your hand squeezing his length between the two of you earning a hiss and groan of pleasure. You felt your pussy convulsing, a wave of fresh arousal briefly squirting from you to land on Dew’s tongue as he slurped and drank everything you gave him. 

Dew delivered a spank to your ass as he sat up, licking his lips and wiping his chin of your mess.  

“Unholy fuck, did you squirt on him?” Swiss asked, amazed as you lay on him, catching your breath. You just giggled in response, words failing you. “Shit, I wanna make you do that...” 

“Then... you’ll... need to fuck me, first...” you taunted between breaths.  

“You got it, sweetheart,” he kissed you again, reaching between you both to take his cock from you, only to line it up with your entrance and slowly, begin to push inside you.  

Dew watched on from behind you, slowly undressing himself as he watched Swiss’ cock sink further and further into you. He was surprised at himself, so turned on watching another man sink into where he had just been burying his tongue and fingers. He thought he might feel possessive, jealous even, but he wanted nothing more than to see you fall apart on his friend. He was enjoying this...  

When Swiss bottomed out, he couldn’t help but whimper at the feeling. You felt so warm, so wet around him. Thanks to Dew’s work, you had been able to quickly accommodate him, slick enough to take him without any issues. You sat up, pressing your palms to his chest and rolling your hips against him. Immediately, pleasure returned and that spot inside you fluttered when he grazed it. You needed him, you needed more. Always more, more, more...  

Swiss’s hips met yours, rolling against you over and over. He watched where the two of you connected, seeing his cock disappearing over and over, glistening with your juices. In the space between your thighs and his cock, he could vaguely make out Dew behind you, now completely nude and stroking himself in time with his thrusts.  

“Fuck...” Swiss breathed, turned on at the sight. “Hey, hey baby...” he tapped at your cheek, getting you to open your eyes you’d closed in bliss and look down at him, “Think Dew needs a hand...”  

You looked behind you, seeing Dew completely nude save for his mask, and fucking into his fist much like Copia had been at your feet yesterday. And you got an idea...  

“This isn’t fair...” you whined, slapping a hand down against Swiss’ chest in protest. You stopped moving your hips but he continued for the both of you, refusing to stop. 

“W-what?” he asked.  

“Want more... Want you both,” you whimpered, reaching behind you to stroke at Dew’s cock. He shivered at the contact, and the thought of being buried in you like Swiss was. He wanted you too... 

“B-both of us? Like...” Swiss stuttered, now stilling his hips reluctantly.  

“Inside me, together. Fuck, I need it... Please?” you begged, looking between them both. The Ghouls looked past you and at each other, seeming to have a silent conversation while you waited impatiently. The thought of having both of them inside you; it both scared and excited you. Were you sure you could take them both? Would it hurt? Maybe they wouldn’t be comfortable with it? 

“Dew, if you’re not comfortable man, I get it...” Swiss reasoned; in his mind, he was more than happy to oblige. His cock even twitched at the thought, which came as a surprise to him. He’d never been in such close proximity to another man sexually but he wasn’t opposed to the idea in the slightest.  

Dew gave Swiss a look, paired with a slight twist of his head and started to slowly, once again, stroke himself; confirming that the idea was enough to interest him. 

“Shit, okay... okay, yeah. You think you can take us, baby?” Swiss’ attention came back onto you.  

“With the right prep,” you smirked, looking back at Dew. “Will you help, Dew?”  

He nodded in understanding, his hand sliding between your ass cheeks and further down, until his fingertips met where you sat impaled on Swiss’ cock. Swiss watched intently, his body twitching when Dew’s fingertips came into contact with his shaft. Slowly, Dew pushed in one finger as Swiss pushed himself in too, using the movement to aid the stretch of added girth. You saw fucking stars...  

“Sathanas...” you squealed, and the two stilled in panic. “No, no... don’t stop. It’s good... so fucking good,” you reassured, and the two men continued... In and out, over and over while you got slicker, messier for both of them like your body knew what was coming and wanted nothing more than to get you there. 

Before long, Dew attempted to push another digit in, and slowly but surely, he managed to do the same. Your body was accommodating them both nicely, nothing too rushed, still just slow and gentle. The look on Swiss’ face was a picture, screwed up in his attempts to remain focussed, to not burst into a fit of rutting as hard and fast as he possibly could with how good it felt to be sheathed inside you and have Dew’s fingers pressed against him. 

When you were ready, Dew added a third finger, stretching you to a point you most certainly never had before. His wrist ached at the angle, and so he pushed gently on your shoulder until you leaned over, hovering above Swiss and giving him much better access. The new position somehow made it easier on you too, spreading your legs further to accommodate both intrusions.  

“I... I think I’m ready,” you said once Dew and Swiss had made sure to slowly push inside as deep as possible while you shivered and spasmed at the feeling. “Please, Dew...” 

“He’s coming baby, just a little longer, okay? Wanna be sure...” Swiss reassured, peppering kisses to your neck where he lay. You nodded, letting them work you open a little longer, your slick gathering between them both and creating an easier glide as the seconds passed. Eventually, they were satisfied you were prepared. 

Dew looked over your shoulder to Swiss, checking in one final time that he was still okay with this. Swiss just smirked back at him, uttering a “Go ahead, Dew.” 

To make the initial entry easier on you, Swiss pulled himself out when Dew’s fingers left you. Dew used that same hand to coat himself in arousal, and finally, the two of them lined up beside each other, their tips just barely grazing and yet... Both of them gasped at the touch. The sound didn’t escape you; and by the look on Swiss’ face, it was certainly a pleasant experience. 

Slowly, the two of them pressed into you, sliding gently to fill you together. Dew’s hands gripped your hips, nails digging into the flesh while Swiss squeezed at your thighs, both having to restrain themselves. For you, the feeling of being stretched and filled to your limits was so damn good, you moaned so wantonly that it vibrated through your body and reached them both, tormenting them until eventually they bottomed out together.  

“Shit, Dew... You good, man?” Swiss cried, unable to tear his eyes away from where both their cocks pressed tightly against each other inside you. He missed Dew’s frantic nodding, but at the lack of protest he knew he was safe to continue.  

They began to build a leisurely pace, moving together in sync and dragging themselves over your g-spot in unison. All you could do was grip onto Swiss’ biceps for dear life, and try not to fall apart where you knelt. You’d never been pushed to this limit before, never taken so much at once but with their careful preparation they had managed to make it as easy as possible for you.  

“More... Please, want more,” you hummed, desperate for a faster pace, something rougher and more punishing. You wanted another fucking orgasm... Sure enough, greed had overtaken you.  

“Greedy girl,” Swiss growled, beginning to rock a little faster, mismatching his pace with Dew. Dew tried to keep up, but fell a little behind in rhythm. Surprisingly, that felt better than them both being in sync... Now, they were both hitting your g-spot, one after the other, in a similar rhythm to a heartbeat.  

You were crying out to both of them, expletives and wild moans between mutterings of their names filling the air around you to a backdrop of slick and sloppy noises as both men fucked into you, harder and harder... Dew couldn’t help his own moans, surrounded by you and Swiss at the same time, a whole new feeling he’d never experienced but unholy shit it felt incredible. He didn’t know another cock against his own could feel like this, never knew how much he’d love this.  

Swiss was thinking much the same, enjoying the drag of Dew’s hardness against his own. Both Ghouls were losing their minds inside you. Swiss released his grip on your thighs in search of Dew’s instead, pulling him closer, needing more of him in some form... Dew dropped one of his hands then, able to hold onto both him and you as the two kept pounding into you. 

“D-Dew... Oh, shit, why does this feel – ahhh – so good?” Swiss cried, throwing his head back into the couch. Dew roared behind you, curling his body to press against your back and sandwiching you between the sweaty bodies either side of you. You moved a little to the side, to give them room to get closer to each other, something you could sense they definitely needed while they rutted into you with reckless abandon.  

“C-can I kiss you, Dew? Fuck man, I don’t know, need more...” he pleaded through grit teeth. Dew pushed himself harder against you both and met Swiss in a bruising kiss neither man had seen coming when this all began. But it felt right, it felt good.  

Your head lay on Swiss’ chest, watching the two of them making out as their cocks filled and stretched you. It was all so much, a kind of bliss you’d never encountered. You could feel your end coming quickly, tearing through you as they resigned themselves to the mercy of the other. You gave them no warning, unable to fathom a sentence when a third burst of pleasure soared through your body.  

If Swiss wanted you to squirt for him, he’d certainly got his wish. You gushed on the pair of them, violently shaking at the force of your orgasm. The two of them broke their kiss and Swiss lost his mind, feeling your cunt flooding him.  

“Fucking hell, I gotta cum... I can’t hold this anymore. Dew, do you mind? Can I cum inside her?” You heard him babble as your brain clouded, coming down slowly while you convulsed and spasmed. You absolutely didn’t mind if he did, but would Dew? He was still buried in you too, after all...  

But Dew chuckled breathlessly and tightened his grip on Swiss’ hand, leaning in to kiss him again. He kept his pace up; a sure-fire way of making sure Swiss came inside you, and in turn, on him.  

It didn’t take him long once he got confirmation, stilling deep inside you, pressed against your cervix as his cum spilled from his cock and coated not only your walls, but Dew’s shaft too. He jumped and pulsed, desperate howls lost to Dew’s kiss. Dew kept going, slower than before but still rutting against Swiss and sending ripples of a dull buzz through you while it served to prolong Swiss’s end.  

Spent and exhausted, Swiss lay back, letting his limbs drop to the couch for a moment before he curled them around you, holding you to him still inside you. He wouldn’t remove himself yet, not while Dew was still plunging into you. He felt his spend dripping down his own length and gathering at the base of both his and Dew’s cocks and pictured what that would look like, smiling to himself dumbly as he enjoyed the overstimulation.  

Behind you, Dew had sat back up on his knees to get a better look and yes, Swiss had been right. Where Dew still rocked into you, Swiss’ spend was leaking and mixing with your own. It was the filthiest thing Dew had ever seen, and it shoved him violently into an orgasm of his own, stilling deep inside you like Swiss just had with a strangled roar. 

“Fuck, fill her up, Dew...” Swiss encouraged him, talking him through his orgasm as if speaking words that Dew couldn’t. “She needs you, Dew. Fill. Her. Up.” He spat through grit teeth, while Dew’s cock slid against his own and pushed him into oversensitivity. Dew did as he was told, emptying his load into you.  

The three of you lay atop each other, spent and exhausted. Neither Ghoul made a move to pull out of you just yet, regaining some strength and regulating their heart rates before they could even think of moving. So, you lay squashed between the two, blissfully floating in euphoria.  

“Well, uh... Satan be damned, that was... different,” Swiss laughed, still partially breathless.  

“Felt so good, guys... You’ve no idea,” you hummed, affectionately reaching behind you to pat at Dew’s hand on top of Swiss’.  

“For us too, sweetheart. Can’t believe you’re a squirter...” You swatted his chest weakly with a dumb smile, earning a chuckle from Dew. “Just wish I coulda tasted that... Dew seemed to enjoy you,” he sighed. He had hoped to taste you at some point, but things had moved in a different direction before he could and he was happy to just go with the flow, give you what you wanted.  

And then, he got an idea.  

“Hey, sweetheart?” he asked timidly. You raised your head from his chest with a quiet “hmm?”, waiting for whatever he wanted to ask. “Is that the most orgasms you’ve had in one sitting?” he asked, curiously.  

“Well, I’ve had three in one before but yes, never more than three. Gets kinda sensitive...” you laughed, settling back on his chest, content to lay there in peace with Dew. 

“Well... the first two were mostly just Dew. I never got to give you one of my own,” he pouted. “You think you could take one more?”  

Your head popped back up, looking into Swiss’ eyes and thinking over his proposition. You certainly did feel sensitive, but the idea intrigued you. Could you take another? You weren’t sure, but you’d be willing to let him try...  

“Um... maybe?” you questioned. Swiss smirked. 

“Hey Dew, would it be... just terrible... if I made sure our darling Sister of Sin was sufficiently cleaned up? I think we’ve made a mess...” he chewed on his lip, waiting for an indication from the silent Ghoul behind you.  

Dew sat up then, removing himself from you and taking a look at the mess the three of you had indeed made. He checked back in with Swiss, nodding. 

“Ah, so we did make a mess. Well, sweetheart, I'd like to offer my cleaning services,” he smirked cheekily.  

“I think that’s only fair...” you quipped.  

Swiss sat up, still holding you to him but transferring your weight back onto the couch cushion as he carefully removed himself from you too. You did your best to contract your walls, holding whatever you could inside you for the moment. Now, you sat upright, legs hanging over the edge of the couch and slouched lazily against Dew’s bare chest beside you. Swiss stood up, removing the pants that still clung to his legs by his knees, and then took up a position between your thighs, hooking your legs over his shoulders.  

He looked down at your core, and could see the mess they’d made; covered in slick, cum and puffed up from the relentless pounding. You looked delectable.  

Swiss dove in, gently at first, with his tongue lapping around your core instead of directly centre. You still writhed at the pleasure of it, enjoying the feeling as he tasted the mixture of the three of you on his tongue. Beside you, you felt Dew’s chest tense, his eyes intently trained on Swiss’ disappearing tongue. This was turning him on again, and he was yet to soften from the sex itself... With a little fuel left in the tank, he began to stoke his length, hissing at the sensitivity. 

As Swiss’ tongue dragged over your clit for the first time, you naturally clenched, a small amount of the cum you held inside you slipping out. Swiss dove in to catch it on his tongue, careful to make sure Dew saw it sat there before he swallowed it down. He’d never done anything like this before and part of him worried Dew would find it disgusting, to eat both his and Dew’s cum from you but now Dew’s hand moved quicker, he knew it was having the opposite effect.  

He hummed in satisfaction at the taste, continuing to assault your clit with his tongue and every so often having to clean up another small amount you’d involuntarily released when things got too sensitive. Dew kept stroking himself, his hips jumping if he spent too long on his sensitive tip. You wanted badly to help him, but there was no strength to lift your arms by your sides.  

Vaguely, the pleasure began to stack up again... you were no longer unsure if you could reach a fourth orgasm; you knew you could. Swiss would just need to be gentle – and somehow, he understood that.  

“Dew, I can’t lie, man... we taste good together,” he teased, watching as Dew bit his lip. “You wanna try?” he snickered. Dew nodded emphatically.  

Swiss brought his fingers up to your centre, pushing them easily inside given you’d not long had two decent sized cocks inside you, and gathered the rest of what you were keeping on them. Then he raised them to Dew’s lips, who bent to meet him halfway, and sucked the mess off them.  

Swiss held his fingers up for him as he dove back into your core, now focussing his attention solely on your clit. You whined tiredly at the sensitivity, but shit, you were close again after watching the display beside you. Dew’s hand sped significantly, making sure he sucked every last drop of cum from Swiss’ fingers. He groaned as a second orgasm came closer; he had wanted to wait for your last orgasm to cum with you, but that was looking unlikely now. He just needed a release again. 

He fell back against the couch as his cock spurted another load, clearer this time and far less than he’d emptied into you, but it felt good enough that he rolled his eyes back and had to drop his hand from the overstimulation while his hips bucked out of control.  

Swiss giggled into your core, suckling at your clit a little harder and enjoying the noises you were making. You barely recognised yourself, squealing so highly in overstimulation as your body went stiff, letting his tongue work you over and over until finally, you crashed for one last time.  

Dew caught you as your body slid to the side and into his chest, holding you and shushing you as you hiccupped in a much quieter orgasm than before, too spent and broken for anything too powerful. Your thighs pushed Swiss’ head away as they came together, shielding you from any more overstimulation. He sat back on his heels, pleased with his work as he licked the remnants of you, himself and Dew from his chin. Quietly, you came down again in Dew’s arms, your body jolting with short little bursts of electricity until you finally stilled.  

Four orgasms had taken its toll on you, and whilst the last of them hadn’t been as earth shattering as the first three, it still left you exhausted and weak. Swiss and Dew could see it in you, and allowed you to curl up into them for a while so you could relax, rest up, and get the aftercare you needed from them both. 

The Ghouls spent the rest of the day with you, having cleaned you up – properly, this time. With an actual shower... – and taken good care of you. Swiss had made you some food, something healthier for the three of you than the junk he’d thrown together last time, and the pair of them just stayed put all day, mostly in a relaxing silence as you watched whatever was on the TV.  

You appreciated that – your head was too busy for conversation, exhausted but still hurting. But there were no expectations to play hostess to the guests in your apartment, nor to divulge the mess of emotions in your mind. If you wanted to talk to them about it all, you would. They felt that.  

But you remained in your own head. You thought over the events of yesterday, of the whole week. You re-read Papa’s note in your mind over and over. You stewed over the thought of him caring for you much less than you’d thought, if his display in his office yesterday was anything to go by...  

It all hurt.  

It wasn’t until Dew wiped a tear from your cheek that you even knew you’d been crying. He gave you a look; one that asked what was wrong without having said the words. You weren’t sure why Dew was a mute Ghoul, but you were glad that it never seemed to be a problem for him. People understood what he was thinking quite easily; most of the time it was ‘what the fuck are you looking at?’ but they understood him all the same... He wasn’t a people person, but you were kind to him; a friend. And so, he cared when he saw you silently crying beside him.  

“N-nothing, Dew. I’m good,” you lied. Your voice caught Swiss’ attention then, who also saw the tears.  

“You can tell us, ______. I’m not gonna tell anyone and, well... neither’s Abu over here,” he joked, slapping Dew’s shoulder as he compared him to the silent, grunting monkey from Aladdin. Dew slapped him back on the back of the head. That earned him a smile from you; goal achieved.  

“I just... Have you ever thought of someone in a certain way, and then... they’ve proved you wrong?” you asked them. 

“Well, I thought Dew was straight. Think he proved me wrong today,” he laughed. You did too, appreciating that he was trying to make you smile when you needed it. “But that’s not what you mean, is it?” 

You shook your head no, smile slipping away. 

“You’re talking about Papa.” 

You nodded.  

“I suppose he just... maybe I got too wrapped up in all this,” you sighed, wiping another fresh tear away. Dew’s arm tightened around your shoulders. “Probably should have known that ‘the great Papa Emeritus the Third’ wouldn’t see me as anything more than a notch on his bedpost. Feel stupid now, thinking I’d actually started feeling something for him...” you laughed, no humour behind it at all.  

“Don’t shoo your feelings away just because he’s devoid of them. You’re allowed to feel whatever you feel, they’re no less real just because he doesn’t reciprocate. Feelings can be dealt with, Sister,” he assured. Strangely, his words felt quite affirming.  

“I just thought he cared...” your voice cracked with more tears, a lump in your throat forming you forced to swallow.  

“You’re part of his congregation, so I think he does care. But... maybe not exactly how you’d hoped, no...” Swiss took your hand and squeezed it. “Listen, you have one more day. One more sin to complete, and then you can figure out with the Dark One what your next steps are. Ask him about Papa, if you need to. I don’t know if it’s a ‘you only get three questions’ kind of situation, but I’m sure he can help. At the very least, I'm sure he can give you a purpose that will take your mind off Papa entirely.”  

You hummed in agreement. Just one more day. How you’d achieve what you needed in that one day, you weren’t sure, but you had the willpower and the tenacity to find something.  

“Big day for you tomorrow. Final sin, the All Hallow’s Ball, a date with Lucifer...” he smirked, winking down at you.  

“Oh, shit... the ball. I forgot about that,” you sighed.  

“Something wrong?” he asked.  

“Just... gotta see Papa,” and Christine, too... awkward. “I think I’d rather not.” Swiss nodded in understanding.  

“Non-negotiable though, isn’t it?” he asked, and you nodded back, “Don’t worry, Dew and I will be there. You can dance with us.” 

“Sure, I’d like that,” you smiled between them both.  

Whilst Swiss’ little pep-talk hadn’t exactly exterminated the sadness that welled up in you now that you’d admitted your feelings towards Papa weren’t strictly platonic, he had at least eased some of the anxiety in your mind about what to do with them.  

Feelings could be dealt with; that was his most important advice, yet. No matter how long it might take, they could be dealt with. You could get through that, and Papa essentially cutting you off here was probably for the best. At least you didn’t have to worry about more nights with him, and those feelings growing exponentially harder to ignore. What you needed to focus on right now, was completing this ritual.  

One more day. One more sin.  

And a date with Lucifer. 

Prev: Day 5 - Envy | Next: Day 7: Pride

A/N: And so, one more sin, and potentially only one more chapter... I'm working on writing it today - there's SO MUCH to put into it, so please bear with me. I may have to upload it in two halves if I can't finish it in time for tomorrow (I've been so busy with work, and Ghostcon over the weekend too!)

A huge thank you to @her-satanic-wiles for beta reading, and @adinferix for fine tuning the Italian translations! 🖤

Tag list:

@call-me-little-sunshine84 @thew0man @zombiesnips-blog @ghuleh-recs @popiaswife @anamelessfool @enchantedbunny @haelithra @aslutforgreyhair @togetherasone @lilylovesdew @copias-sewer-rat @copiaspet622 @deetz-ghuleh @loudwombatmugkid @nimbusghoul @portaltothevoid @angellayercake @sodoswitchimage @siouxbauhaus @lydz1977-blog @bitchywitchygardener @sacrificialsake @the-did-i-ask @ghostfangirlsweden @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe @copiasprincipessa @gothicwonderlust @ladymer @ghulehunknown @onlyhereforghost @solluna00 @nijiru

[thebluejoker]

YOU ABSTRACTED

Warning: angst, death, no comfort, self blaming, abstraction

Tags: Jax x reader, Pomni x reader

A/N: I accidentally posted this without even finishing ._. Anyways, now it's done completely!

JAX

He was planning on sneaking into your room and leaving some bugs on your bed

He always pranked you

You rarely had a conversation, but he wanted to have one

He wanted to be close to you, so he pulled pranks all the time

It didn't matter if you were mad at him

What matter was that you were mad at HIM

So he never had a normal conversation with you and it never bothered him

He didn't wanted to admit that he was utterly embarrassed to talk to you, so the only way to be a little close to you, to make you talk to him was in making jokes and pulling pranks

He never regreted it

Until now

Seeing an huge Monster in your room was horrifying

The multiple eyes met his and he immediately knew it was you

But he denied it

He hoped you were somewhere under your bed hiding, but the quite voice in his mind told him that you were gone

Forever.

He froze and didn't move, even when you got closer to attack him

He just couldn't believe

He didn't wanted to believe

You had to be the last one who would get abstracted

Why didn't he know?

He blamed himself

If he asked, If he just once, instead of being an total jerk, talked to you he would know how you are doing

He could have helped you

But of course he was an Idiot, pulling pranks as always and never trying to talk to you properly

He comforted himself saying that he at least has something, that it could be worse

But never thought that it could be better

Maybe you would be friends

Maybe more

But now it was all gone, you were gone

Jax would have died if Ragatha didn't pull him and dragged away from your room

He remembers he used to stand in front of your door and think if he should knock and take you out for dinner, maybe walk or anything. But he never had the courage to do it

Now he's regretting it too. He just should have done it, oversteped his ego

After that, he wasn't himself

He didn't pull pranks or joked around

Now, he was just an Jerk that was pissed off at anything and everyone

At nights, he stands in front of your door, in front of you picture with an big red X on it and knocks, hoping you will open up and go outwith him

POMNI

She really liked you

You were the only one that seemed to be normal in this crazy circus

You were kind and gentle to her, knowing that being knew here is one of the hardest thing

So, Pomni immediately got attached to you

She loved you

She loved to hang out with you

She loved that you didn't saw her as an insane person after she mentioned the exit

She loved that you also tried to find the exit with her

She loved to talk with you about what you're going to do after you both leave this place

All dreams, hopes and beliefs crashed when an abstraction appeared from on of the hallways

Pomni was with all other characters from that circus, you were the only one that was nowhere to see

Fear ran through her veins when she thought that you were the abstraction

And sadly, she was right

It wasn't supposed to turn out like this

You seemed to be the most emotional stable person of all of them

How did you hide it so good?

How could she never notice your weird behavior?

She felt horrible

She felt like an terrible friend

You were always there for her, and she couldn't even see you going slowly insane

After Caine looked you away in the celler, she knew she couldn't be here without you

She hoped, prayed that Caine would find a way to heal you, to bring you back to her

She knew she would go insane as well if you don't return soon

The day she lost you felt like the first day at the Digital circus

Scary, lonely, confusing, insane and weird

[spacebarbarianweird]

HC of Astarion x fem Elf Tav who’s a Druid, more specifically of the Circle of The Spores subclass. She wears skirts and dresses of dark teals and blacks with gold embroidery and legs round gold glasses, always travels with herbs and roots in her pockets and pouches, and is never afraid to raise an army of the fungal infested undead for the hell of it. Basically she’s the healer who puts on a neutral front but is begging for the chance to rightfully unleash chaos and destruction

Hi! Oh, this is a nice design of a character! And I am sucker for elf!Tav because they can live for many centuries. And Spore Circle is absolutely badass. It turned out to be weird, creepy and bittersweet and I hope you like it! I also tag @tolkien-fantasy since they love Spore Druids.

Astarion x Spore Circle Druid!Tav

There is a thing about Spore Druids.

Unlike your colleagues, you don't particularly hate the undead.

If anything, your magic is about death, too.

Mold and fungi transform lifeless material into something new and weird.

Death isn't the end, it's just a new stage.

The problem with the undead is that they often wish things would stay the same and never change.

Which is unnatural.

Life is about growth and death is about transformation.

You encourage Astarion to heal and grow.

The worst thing about his past was stability and the belief nothing was going to change.

But somehow he preserved his personality and now he slowly demonstrates his ability to "live" in his undeath.

Though, you scare him a bit.

You can resurrect the dead with spores, turning them into zombies, alive and dead, hungry and terrifying.

You infect the corpses and transform them into your loyal servants.

And you can use the same spores to make your enemies blind, deaf, or paralyzed.

Astarion calls you a walking hotbed of plague.

Though, of course, he is in awe - mostly because everything you do is between life and death, which is the stage he himself is stuck in.

But your magic is beautiful.

Mushrooms growing on dead bodies.

Mold desecrating the food.

Fungi bringing life to the most desolate places.

Post-game, Astarion doubts whether to go with you, but you assure him that the Spore Circle will accept him due to his ability to change.

You study the fungi to find answers to your questions and his problems.

The spores can make him more like a living person.

They can protect him from the sun, and they can let him eat normal food.

The prospect scares Astarion - he's seen the infected corpses. It's creepy.

And what if this magic fungi takes over his mind?

You don't insist. It's his choice, after all.

And you are an elf yourself, you have plenty of time.

But the life in the shadows and hunger take a toll on Astarion.

He doesn't want to be an undead. He wants to be alive.

And if his vampirism can't be cured, why not let nature change him?

At least, if you promise his personality won't be affected.

It won't, you are sure of that.

Astarion lets you infect him with the spores.

This transformation is nothing like becoming a vampire.

It's soft, gentle, warm.

Astarion feels like dreaming, sleeping in a warm bed.

The only thing he acknowledges is your presence. You check on him all the time sometimes meditating close to his "fungi grave".

It take almost a year for spores to finish their job, reconstructing his dead flesh.

A lonely year of being alone in your bed.

When Astarion wakes up, he doesn't feel the hunger anymore.

The sun doesn't burn him and he stays in the sunlight for hours before you come to take him home.

The symbiotic fungi has restored his organs to the point where they functioned as they are supposed to.

Astarion is scared to see himself in the mirror - but when he does he sees himself.

Though, there are some changes.

There are golden spots of spores in is eyes and barely visible cobwebs on his legs and arms.

And he is warm. He is so warm.

With his newfound "life", Astarion gets some new abilities, similar to the ones you have.

He can cast spores and rise up the dead, infecting them.

He can hear the fungi songs, connecting his mind with this ancient entity.

And he can feel you.

You know each other thoughts, each other intentions, and presence.

He always knows where you are. He feels your emotions, your sorrows and happiness and you feel him the same way.

You are more than thiramins, more than lovers.

But the best gift the spores gave to Astarion is mortality.

One day, the fungi will slowly take over his body and mind, transforming the flesh once again, bringing him mor, the final death.

And if you are still alive by this moment, you will let spores take over you so you can be together in this next stage of life and death.

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce

[deadbydangit]

I had a dream about this and i laughed my ass off when i woke up.

Would you be willing to do Mastermind, Knight, and Oni with a reader who is insanely good at climbing? Like not even just trees but they could climb a completely flat wall with no problem, and one day the reader just scales them like a tree to ride on their back? Totally understandable if not!

Hmm, I think I can do that. I'm just going to simplify it a bit. Please enjoy!

With a Reader who is good at climbing: Mastermind, Knight, Oni

Mastermind

Hmm?

What on Earth are you doing?

Get down from there!

Wesker isn't amused.

He doesn't have time for such antics.

"Are you trying to make me angry?"

Part of him is annoyed that you're climbing because he can't get to you.

It almost feels like you're mocking him.

Can he climb?

Yes.

But, somehow, you're better.

And that pisses him off beyond belief.

The idea that somebody is better at something that he is?

It drives an insane.

The other part is that he's worried about you.

Sure, you do seem to be pretty good at climbing.

However, what if you fell?

Of course, he could catch you.

He's fast enough to run and grab you before you fall.

But what if he wasn't there?

"I won't always be around to save you."

"Do you realize how dangerous that is?"

He'll scold you.

Scolding like a mother would to a disobedient child.

But he's only doing so because he loves you.

Yes, he can be somewhat overbearing sometimes.

But it's all from a place of love.

However, there will be times when he'll join you while you're sitting in a tree.

"It's very peaceful. I can understand why you like it up here."

You don't have to do anything while you're both sitting there.

He's just enjoying the peace and your company.

Knight

"Descend from there this instant!"

Tarhos is a very powerful strong person.

He is able to knock just about anyone off their feet with his strength.

However, one thing he isn't is agile.

His armor is very heavy and bulky.

Seeing you easily scale up that tree?

He'll huff and scowl at you as you hang above him.

There are so many reasons why this just bugs him.

He's supposed to be the powerful one in the relationship.

Not you.

Him!

So the fact that you have an advantage over him?

It makes his blood boil.

What makes it so much worse is that Alejandro is able to join you up in the trees and you both taunt Tarhos from down below.

He'll be so furious that he'll stop away.

Part of it is that he doesn't have time for such childish games.

He has things to do, guards to command, people that kill.

He won't admit it, but he's very jealous.

Seeing you so carefree and happy?

He never got to have that.

And, despite how much he denies it, he would love to have a taste of that freedom in his life.

Lastly, he wants to be the one to climb with you.

He hates how Alejandro teases him from up in the trees with you.

It should be him up there, not one of his guards.

However, he really likes it when you drop down into his arms.

He'll hold his arms out, and he'll always catch you.

Make sure you do it often.

It makes him feel joy knowing that he can protect and care for you.

Oni

He finds it extremely childish.

He has better things to do than climb trees.

Well, not like he could.

Every tree couples under his weight.

He tried to climb up after you once.

He was just too heavy for the tree to support.

It was rather embarrassing, so Kazan doesn't like to talk about it.

So, he can't climb trees.

But that doesn't mean he's going to stop you.

If it's something that brings you Joy in your life, who is he to stop you?

Besides, it's good exercise. He knows that.

It might not be his idea of training, but it seems to be working for you.

And, he knows that you're able to keep yourself safe if an enemy were to attack.

Sure, you might not be able to wield a sword.

Or crush somebody's head and pull out their tongue.

But, you have the ability to run from danger if the need arises.

You can get to the high grounds where it's harder for enemies to reach you.

And that puts him at ease knowing that you're able to take care of yourself.

Don't worry if you ever end up getting hurt because you fell.

He'll be right by your side, picking you up and patching you up.

He may look annoyed, but he's really concerned.

Kazan is so worried that you might climb up something too high one day. Or he won't be around to catch you.

He finds your childlike love of climbing to be endearing.

Still he finds your innocent sweet nature to be cute.

He won't say that out loud though.

Seeing you enjoy yourself with such a simple activity brings him a new hope and humanity he thought he had lost a long time ago.

[monzaaasharl]

Who Do You Think You Are?

Pairings:: F1 drivers x Female driver! Reader, Christian Horner x Daughter! Reader, Geri Halliwell x Daughter! Reader

Summary:: Y/n Horner is officially announced as a 2024 f1 driver

Author note:: This is set during July 2023 just so the time frame makes sense

Masterlist

Here it was.

This is all she had ever worked for. And now she had it. Becoming a Formula One driver was all she ever dreamed of, and now that it became true she didn't know how to act.

She knew it wouldn't be easy, hell, everyone around her knew that. Especially her parents, Redbull Racing Team Principal Christian Horner and 90s Popstar Geri Halliwell. They knew better than anyone that Y/n becoming an F1 driver would spark controversy, but that's exactly why they didn't hold her back.

Y/n's parents wanted her to have everything she ever wanted. And if helping her with her journey into motorsports was what she wanted, they would do anything in their power to make it easier for her.

Contrary to popular belief her father wasn't as involved with her career as many people thought. I mean of course he gave her advice that the other drivers in F4, F3 and F2 wouldn't get, but they would just have to find it out for themselves. The main part Christian played in her motorsports career was being the person to introduce it to her, and get her her first ever go-kart.

They always tried to keep their father-daughter relationship away from the world of motorsport, because as Christian knew, and y/n would later find out, the media can destroy relationships with information that isn't even true.

Y/n practically grew up at the race track. She was always begging her mother to let her go karting after school and Geri almost always let her with the conditions that she had to do all her homework, and if it wasn't done she couldn't go until it was.

It was almost inevitable that Y/n became a driver, she was meeting new drivers every time she came to a race with her parents. And they could all tell that the way she spoke about karting and her dreams, she was going to go far.

The moment Y/n got off the phone with the Team Principal from Porsche she sprinted down the stairs of her childhood home, as she was staying with her parents at the time, and ran to find her parents.

"Spider in your room or something?" Her father teased, knowing her fear of spiders.

"Much better than that" Trying to hide the smile on her face, however it was growing bigger by the second.

"Go on then, what's happened?" Her mother asked her, confused by her behaviour.

"I'M GONNA BE A FORMULA ONE DRIVER FOR PORSCHE NEXT YEAR" She exclaimed at insane volume.

"Oh my goodness, sweetheart, I'm so proud of you" There were tears forming in Geri's eyes as she spoke. "Come here", she widened her arm's for Y/n.

"That's definitely not what I thought you were about to say", Christian joked, and joined in the group hug.

They all took a few moments to comprehend what was going on. As soon as they let go from their hug Christian spoke up.

"I'm sure you'll be good competition"

"I hope so", Y/n joked. "I'm so excited" She squealed, "but I'm also terrified"

Geri laughed at her statement, Y/n always had conflicting emotions. "I'm sure you'll be brilliant, my love" She reassured her daughter, "Who's your teammate going to be?"

"Mick Schumacher" She replied, "I mean, he's been in F1 before, what if he's much better than I am?"

"Nonsense", Christian answered, "They wouldn't have signed you if they didn't think you would good enough." He tried to soothe her worries, it always upset him when she would second guess herself, she was his baby girl, and he wanted whatever was best for her. "You're going to be fantastic, and I know that"

Y/n hugged her father tightly, she knew her parents would always be her biggest fans. "Thank you, Dad"

"So, how long have you been keeping your signing a secret?" He pondered.

"Since September last year...", She quietly admitted.

"That long?"

"Well, it wasn't certain until about 15 minutes ago" She admitted, "They want me to go sign the papers next week"

"My little girl is all grown up", Geri spoke up.

Herself and her father laughed and rolled their eyes.

After a few conversations, and a few more tears, mostly from Geri's eyes, but Y/n could've sworn she saw Christian's eyes become glossy at one point, Y/n went to her bedroom and decided to pack her suitcase, to go back to her own home and then to Germany to officially sign her contract.

It was now 6th July 2023 and Y/n was about to sign her contract.

"Are you ready, Miss?"

"I suppose so"

She didn't even have enough time to take in all her surroundings, the pen was in and out of her hand in seconds.

"You are officially a Formula One driver for Porsche now, congratulations" The team principal of the team said whilst they shared a handshake after her signing.

This was it.

It was now official.

This is Y/n Horner, and this was her story.

...Introducing Speedy Spice...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist::

@treehouse-mouse @champomiel @honkyscats

Please let me know if you would like to be added or taken off of the taglist by my comments, messages or asks.

Feel free to send requests.

[thebestsetter]

Which Blue Lock character should you date based on your MBTI? + some relationship headcannons

~ A/n: this is TOTALLY based on my opinion about the characters' MBTIs. You can desagree with me and give me suggestions on how to do better in the next part! (Assuming there's gonna be a next part lol)

Isagi Yoichi

◇ I feel like Isagi's an INFJ, since he's overall a selfless and kind person (off the field of course). He's also perceptive and creative to find solutions to his problems in the field and in life, but he may also end up overanalyzing and overthinking things a lot

◇ Based on that, Isagi would be attracted to someone with a great sense of humor and who would show interest in what he has to say about something, be it football or any other topic

◇ He would also enjoy being with someone lively and ambivert/extroverted, who would encourage him to be the best version of himself and would brighten up his days

◇ So, I think ENFJ and ENFP would work PERFECTLY with Isagi, since they tend to be more extroverted and care A LOT about their partners, and show it openly (something tells me Isagi would love to be babied by his partner)

◇ He would be one of the greatest Blue Lock boyfriends imo, a real sweetheart. He would 100% take you to the best dates ever and would probably ask his mother for advice about how to act around you☝️

◇ He would die for a supportive girlfriend who would cheer loudly for him during his games, he'd feel so appreciated!

◇ 10/10 boyfriend.

Karasu Tabito

◇ Karasu's 100% a ESTJ. Don't argue w/ me, you know I'm right.

◇ He's loyal, rational, objective, practical and responsible. He's also reliable and extroverted.

◇ Even with all these qualities, Karasu can act a little hasty and not be respectful when hearing opinions contrary to his own beliefs.

◇ In a relationship, he looks for someone who is supportive and respectful, patient and understanding

◇ He's a great boyfriend and brings out the best in his partner, helping them achieve their dreams and goals

◇ So, Karasu would have a great relationship with someone who would offer a balance to his somewhat "commanding" nature through a more sensitive and adaptable personality, such as an ISFP, or someone who would also be as methodical and rational as him, like an ISTJ

◇ He would LOVE if his partner watched his football games and, in return, he would watch theirs too, no matter what sport they played

◇ If you're an artist, he loves complimenting your art pieces and says you're like a modern-time Picasso (even though some of them may look like they were drawn by a 5 year old with crayons)

◇ Overall, the best boyfriend ever (literally the loml)

Rin Itoshi

◇ Rin's a very reserved introvert, for sure, but he's also very ambitious, determined and self-confident

◇ With that said, he would be an INTJ

◇ Imo, he would need someone to balance his "cold" personality with a cheerful and outgoing personality, like ESFPs or ENFPs, or a more reserved partner that's still a little ambiverted, like an ISFP

◇ To date an INTJ, you must understand that there are times when they just want their personal space and tranquility, which also applies to Rin

◇ He would try not to be so hard on you, but sometimes the feelings would "escape" (old habits die hard Ig) and he might come out as a little harsh. Don't yell at him, he would definitely regret it quickly! His ego is just too big to admit it sometimes....

◇ Not a bad boyfriend, just needs someone patient with him!!

◇ I think his love language would be acts of service, since he's a little shy about expressing his feeling with words

◇ So, your relationship with him would be based on "little things". Like grabing something you can reach from the top of a shelf or tying your shoelaces for you

◇ Overall a very good boyfriend!!!

Pls someone tell me the easiest and quickest way to become an ISFP or ISTP 🙏😭

[psalacanthea]

Are we going to talk about how scary being the Inquisitor is for a Lavellan or…?

I mean, the more and more I have played this game, the more the Chantry shit is terrifying. Over and over again, you see painful and irrefutable evidence about the shit humans did to elves in the name of the Maker. The Exalted Plains is an obvious example.  (I consistently call it Dirthavaren you don’t like it fight me bitch) 

Like I think the entire fandom can agree on fuck that bitch sister Amity. The Chantry crusades destroyed what was left of the elves, destroyed them. Culture, body and spirit. Like be honest, there aren’t many Dalish clans left and each time a new game/book comes around, another one bites the dust. It’s so easy to lose your clan in Inquisiton and even easier to accidentally kill off Marethari’s. Hell, you can choose to kill Zathrian’s. 

The Dalish are dying out, any way you slice it.

Then suddenly a hole rips open in the sky and everybody thinks Lavellan did it. It destroys the Conclave…don’t tell me for one second that the humans didn’t immediately start developing an ‘elves and vengeance and antiMaker’ conspiracy theory. The ‘remain silent’ dialogue option in that first interaction isn’t a stoic ‘I don’t give a fuck’ to me, it’s more of a ‘whatever I say doesn’t matter I’m already dead’ for a Dalish Inquisitor. 

The true horror is knowing that they wont just kill you, they’ll call for a bloodbath on elves across Thedas.

“For the elves were guilty of the greatest sin, of turning from the Maker.”

You’ve damned them all and you can’t even remember how or why. For a First, it must be terrifying to realize even if you try to diplomatically talk your way out of it, they’ll never believe you. As a hunter or warrior, you know it’s hopeless. All you can do is throw yourself forward as the villain, claim that whatever happens you acted alone and take as many of these shems out with you as you can.  As a mage you know if they take pity on you, you’re condemned to their mage-slavery prisons.

“Whatever you think I did, I’m innocent!”

But then they believe you (barely, like thank the Creators the Lavellan clan taught you how to talk to humans civilly and not panic) but it’s basically a hostage situation. There’s one other elf with you and even if he’s not Dalish thank Mythal because shit you were scared and you’re still scared but at least it’s something. His name is ‘Pride’. You take it as a sign from the Creators that it’s not time to give up yet. Suledin, you think.

There is an orb, a weapon that caused this. Solas tells you it’s elven and your heart sinks.

“Eventually, the humans will find a way to blame elves…”

You become Inquisitor and things are a little better but the humans call you Herald of Andraste. You don’t believe in their Maker but none of them care. You know your clan would feel betrayed, think you’ve given up your gods. You haven’t of course but the terror is there…what if the gods think you’ve given up them? You talk to Cassandra and Leliana, trying to understand the human chantry and maybe figure out a way for your two beliefs to coexist. 

 But no.

You realize it wont help. Cassandra talks about spreading the Maker’s word to all corners of Thedas…you remember the lonely howls of the wolves across Dirthavaren. You know what ‘spreading the Makers word’ means. Leliana at least acknowledges what the Chantry did, but she dismisses it with words. All those lives and hopes and dreams dismissed with the words ‘that hate won’t just go away if you dissolve the Chantry’. You understand what she really means, though. 

She’s saying that the hate will never go away, not until the elves are just like humans. The Chantry will never stop.  She says she wants elves to be part of the chantry so they survive and you try not to taste bile in the back of your throat when you think of what that means.

“My father says humans are like weeds that choke out the grass…”’

Slowly, slowly, slowly...they consume you.

[callmearcturus]

what do you think about hal is he good evil or just misunderstood thoughts??

Hal as in Whomstve Hal?

Here's my problem: I am, like, the One Person in the fandom who just doesn't find Hal all that interesting. I get what's going on, but I'm not invested, maybe because I spent all my Super Invested points on Jane and Jake when others don't find them as interesting.

Hal is not "evil" though or misunderstood, IMO, because that implies there is a Correct way to interpret him.

That said, I do consider a Litmus Test of Did You Actually Understand Act 6 to be the simple question of: Who orchestrated Synchronize/Unite? Because if you think it was Dirk, then I would recommend rereading the opening three acts of Act 6 again.

The entire Synch/Unite thing is, to me, the one of the two interesting things Hal does. The S/U deal is this ultimate devil's bargain that Dirk strikes to save everyone. Hal will direct him and get everyone back alive again... but in return, Hal is going to kiss Jake first. Which is in of itself a Complicated price, given the animosity between Hal and Jake, and how Jake does understand more than pretty much anyone what Hal truly is... but covers it up with obfuscation to avoid how uncomfortable it makes him.

But I'm also of the opinion that Jake's belief in Dirk, his Hope Bullshit, is partially why the AR project even succeeded, and I find his culpability in it fascinating. Dirk and Jake keep making surrogate children out of their powers, it's hilarious.

Anyway, the other thing Hal does that's interesting is the Suicide Conversation on the rooftop, which to me is fascinating because as Dirk gets angrier and angrier (on some level rightly imo) at Hal's manipulations, the trump card that Hal pulls is "Of course I'm scared of dying, aren't you?"

Because Dirk isn't scared of dying. He categorically proves this so frequently that it's arguably one of his core character traits. He kills himself in Synch-Unite, he considers his dream self hella expendable, he kills himself in the Game Over timeline, he has no problem killing himself on the slabs of Derse but can't bear to hurt Roxy (even when its literally the Right Choice in the moment and impermanent besides), he kills himself in [S] Collide to defeat the Jacks--

Dirk Strider is not afraid of dying. But Hal is, and that is proof that Hal and Dirk are not even remotely the same person, that they diverged long ago. And IMO that's part of why Dirk goes "fuck it" and prototypes Hal, because that's not him. If Hal was just another splinter of Dirk, he'd just kill him(/himself) again, no big deal. But Hal is not a Dirk anymore.

Anyway, I guess to sum up: I unfortunately mostly like Hal in the ways he is Not Dirk. That's the interesting shit.

[alcazarofthestars]

Hello can I request yandere platonic fontaine with y/n that is like Kohaku from enstars by personality?

Of course! But I've only started playing enstars a few months ago, so my knowledge of his personality is a bit restricted and I'll be using the wiki... Sorry for being late, my practical exams are around the corner and then my end of semester tests come right after that....

Summary: After growing up as a very sheltered kid in the house of the hearth, you are trying to achieve your dream in Fontaine as a performer. But you have unfortunately managed to gain the interest of many famous figures and obsessive people in Fontaine...

Warning!: Yandere content (Obviously), bullying, ooc, insecurities, fighting, stalking, abuse(?), bad writing, disfiguration?, murder, harassing, taking pictures without consent, physically harming (not to the reader... kinda), manipulation, Fontaine cast girlbossing, gatekeeping, and gaslighting. (If any of those make you uncomfortable please leave.)

{~} So imagine this, you were born in a branch family of a rather noble family from Inazuma. But you were given up to Arlecchino by your parents because the main family isn't really welcoming of an heir of your gender in fear that the branch family will get any power against them. Even though the family was trying to modernize out of such beliefs, the current head of the family still firmly believes in it. So out of concern, your parents hid you for the first five years of your life until they gave you up to the house of the hearth.

{~} There in the orphanage you meet a pair of twins from Fontaine who aspire to be great magician and his assistant, the twins consist of one male and one female who introduced themselves as Lyney and Lynette. They were older than you by a few years and they would also love to put on a show for you! By this point you see them as your older siblings, and they also see you as their adorable younger sibling who has to be protected from the cruel world. But sadly, they go on a lot of missions outside of Snezhnaya... But don't worry, they always think about you during their missions and they bring back souvenirs from their travels!

{~} During your time at the orphanage, you've managed to meet Arlecchino herself. At first she scared you, but you soon warmed up to her! She became your parental figure during your stay at the house of the hearth after an event where she saved when you almost died. But she would never allow you out of the orphanage grounds unlike the other kids at the orphanage. You first thought it was because you were too young, but when you grew up she still didn't allow you to leave whether it's for missions or just walking around. Whenever you asked she would answer by saying, "It's for your safety. The world is a harsh place." or something similar to that...

{~} This made you grow up as a rather sheltered kid compared to most others your age. You learned about the outside world by books, newspapers, and gifts that were brought back by the others in the orphanage. You also have very little knowledge about fashion due to always wearing uniforms provided by the orphanage.

{~} One day, you were introduced to a new addition to the orphanage. He introduced himself as Freminet as he hid behind Arlecchino. She wanted you to welcome him to the orphanage because the two of you are the same age. At first he was rather shy and quiet around others, he still is but now he doesn't run away the moment someone goes near him. You would talk and hang out with him during the first few weeks of his stay, but he would always hide from you...

{~} This one time, you were walking around the orphanage in search of Freminet to play with you as usual. You did manage to find him, but he was surrounded by other kids that were all older than him. From what you heard from afar, they were talking about him. And not the nice type of talking, more like the harassing kind. So as a young kid with a naive mind you went up to the group and confronted them head on.

{~} ... It didn't go well. You ended up fighting with most of the kids while the others ran to find Arlecchino or because they were scared. After Arlecchino came, she sent all the kids (including you) to her office. In the end, after asking the bystanders and witnesses you got off with only a long lecture while most of the other kids got lectured and were given more chores to do. When you left Arlecchino's office, Freminet went over to you and hugged you, thanking you for helping him. Since that incident you and Freminet had gotten closer up to the point he would follow you around like a lost puppy.

{~} On one afternoon, Lyney and Lynette came back from one of their missions. They also brought some souvenirs back from Fontaine for you. Lyney handed you their souvenir, it is a voice recording of a popular idol from Fontaine singing their most popular song. You would love to listen to it and you really treasured it. A few days later, you were playing with the twins and Freminet when you excitedly announced that you want to be an idol or performer when you grow up.

{~} They were very supportive of your dreams, Lyney and Lynette offered to teach you some tricks for when you're performing so you don't get nervous on stage. Lyney had also invited you to come to one of their performances in the future! When you told Arlecchino, she seemed supportive of this idea as well. So after all that, you began practicing with the help of Lyney and Lynette with Freminet and Arlecchino who would occasionally drop by and watch you practice.

{~} When you turned 15, Arlecchino finally gave you your first mission (you kept on begging her) with the twins and Freminet in Fontaine. The mission was rather easy, 'perform a show as your 'debut' as a performer to prepare for future missions', you were still excited nonetheless!

{~} When you, Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet arrived at Fontaine you were in awe by the atmosphere of the said nation. Compared to Snezhnaya, Fontaine was more welcoming and peaceful especially with way less snow and blizzards. Your group split up to find a place to stay, so while Lynette and Freminet search for an inn you and Lyney would go explore together.

{~} After a while, you managed to get separated from Lyney. While searching for him you decided to ask some people nearby. The second you asked they started to give weird looks to you, narrowing their eyes as you spoke. You, who noticed this, started to get more and more nervous. They answered you by saying that they haven't seen Lyney. When you were far enough they started to talk amongst themselves, mainly about you and your weird accent. It wasn't much of a problem for you back at the house of the hearth because of the kids' innocent minds, but now that you're in a whole different nation with a lot of judging people, you start to feel somewhat insecure...

{~} Thankfully, Lyney had found you accompanied by Lynette and Freminet trailing behind him. "Ahah! There you are! We were so worried, where did you go?" He questioned. "Now, now, it was your fault that you two got separated." Lynette commented in a rather harsh tone. "Anyways, we found a suitable inn to stay at." She added.

{~} Although that incident happened a long time ago, you still found their words ingraved in your head. Now ever since you started your 'career' as a performer, people have grown to like your accent. But you still have problems accepting it...

{~} In present times, you are a famous performer in Fontaine and other regions. So it's only natural to have performed in front of many important and known figures from many different nations. But today's performance makes you feel nervous... Why you ask? It's because you're gonna perform for the monsieur Neuvillette and hydro archon herself along with a few more important people! Usually Lyney and Lynette would do these, but it seems that they want you to perform instead....

{~} It went smoothly, as usual. The crowd was cheering, the guests were happy, and you did a job well done! After the show the hydro archon, Furina, had approached you to congrat you on a good show while Neuvillette had given you a nod and a faint smile. You were happy of course, but there was a bad feeling that you couldn't really shake off from them...

{~} During your stay at Fontaine you have met many incredible and nice people! Such as Navia the president of the Spina di Rosula who would always invite you to tea parties with her to talk about your day, Clorinde the hydro archon's personal bodyguard that would help you out with security during your performances, or Chiori the fashion designer from Inazuma who likes to make you dress up from time to time. Over time, you had also managed to get closer to the hydro archon, melusines and Neuvillette. Although being somewhat close with them, you still continue to get a bad feeling from them.

{~} There was a certain incident that had happened a while back where during one of your shows a person from your audience made a remark on how you have a strong accent and how it ruined the whole performance. When you went to talk to the people who said that earlier it is as if they just went POOF! Cause it was like they just... vanished... Until a few days later where their bodies were found, looking so disfigured that they could only be identified by their outfit.

(TIMESKIP TO AFTER THE ARCHON QUEST CAUSE I'M STARTING TO GET LAZY)

{~} Over time you have managed to see the fountain cast as your 'found family' and they seem to see you in the same light! But day by day the amount of missing people cases has increased up to the point your 'family' starts talking about how dangerous it is and how you should just stay with them for the time being.

{~} Maybe they are right. You shouldn't worry much about people whom you barely know and spend time with your friends and 'family' instead! Things have been going great, the culprit is almost found and you get to spend time with the people you love without being worried. Isn't that just nice? Well... that is until a renowned detective from Inazuma comes to help in the case...

A/N: AHHHH....! I hate tests... This will probably be my last post before going inactive for a while.... Sorry for the rushed ending, feel free to leave the rest up to your imagination!