#this is a very long tag i have no idea why I'm adding this but you know why not so how's your day today that's good my day's good too

[nyxronomicon]

no, cause you're absolutely right with your tags. i too put that thought in the bag of dark thoughts that i should never open but i thought of you and said there is always someone who will be able to understand me lskdk and your tags,,, nodding fervently at your tags because i don't see him as a stepbro cause i love the age difference too lol but

i love love love love the idea of him coming into your room at night and waking you up with his fingers inside you and the bulge in his pajama pants pressing from behind. I also imagine him sitting on the couch when it's just you two, he invites you to join him to watch the game or something and it ends in him cockwarming you while playing with your nipples, you can't do anything but take it and feel it throb inside you until he finally cums inside you, but you have to do it fast before your mom/brother (choso maybe megumi) gets home from work <3 so the idea of being caught is very attractive to me

Sigh... *opens dark fantasies filing cabinet and pulls out stepdad Toji folder*

omg you did this on purpose... cockwarming while he plays with your tits??? my WEAKNESS and you added the risk of getting caught RIP RIP RIP i'm DEAD .... i'm sorry... i'm sorry for the sins... my pussy wrote this i swear...

cw: !! DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT !!, stepdad!Toji x f!reader, reader is university age, age difference, dub-con (coercion & implied somno), reader has major daddy issues, reader is touch/attention-starved, corruption, pussyjob, cockwarming, praise, titplay, risk of getting caught, slight edging, size (emphasis on Toji's big dick) pet names: princess, angel, good girl, reader is referred to as "step-daughter" but not as a pet name lol 2.2k sinful, sinful words

Your mother didn't even tell you she remarried. You got home from college for the summer to find a stranger and his son living at her place. You were resistant to the whole idea, but she made you promise to give them a chance and spend time with them. They were family now, after all.

Megumi was just a year older than you. He had one more year of university before graduation, so he was in a similar situation as you. You thought maybe you could bond about it, but he wasn't very talkative and showed more interest in his video games than you.

Your new stepdad... Toji Fushiguro. You didn't even know where to start with your thoughts on him. He was sleazy, shameless, and a little more friendly than you'd like. You couldn't really figure out what he did for work, and to be honest, you wouldn't be surprised if he didn't do anything. Your mom was a chronic workaholic, constantly gone on work trips and spending late hours at the office. She could easily support the three of you on her own.

There was another thought about him that clawed at the back of your mind. The one you immediately compartmentalized, the forbidden knowledge that once fully synthesized in your mind, you wouldn't be able to erase. It remained in a little bottle, threatening to shatter every time your stepfather got home from the gym. Or took you out to dinner. Or watched a movie with you.

You tried to include Megumi as much as possible at first, if only you have a buffer. Hanging out alone with Toji felt weird. It felt wrong, though you couldn't quite pin why. But Megumi was entirely disinterested in spending time with his dad, and only marginally more interested in getting to know his new stepsister.

After a couple of months of getting used to Toji, you were starting to notice things you liked about him. He was actually there for you, for one. Your mother was never around and in the past, and she never kept a man around long enough for you to have any kind of father figure. It was just you and her, but more often than not, it was really just you. You didn't realize how lonely you were at home but with him here, at least you had someone to talk to.

You let his sleazy comments slide. The few times you'd gone out with friends, he made sure to tell you how sexy you looked. And when you got home, he grilled you on if there were any guys you had an eye on. It always flustered you, reminding you of the forbidden thought trapped in that bottle. But as long as you didn't think about it too hard, it would stay bottled up, where it should be.

You hated to admit that your mother was right. That you liked your new stepdad after giving him a chance. You liked the banter, and he was always complimenting you. He made you feel good about yourself. So in turn, you let him get away with more. When you'd watch TV with him at home, you started cuddling with him. He was warm, comforting. Maybe you were a little old to be cuddling with your stepdad, but he smelled so nice and you always wondered what it would be like.

Your mom was at a conference. Megumi was gaming in the other room. It was like any other night, and you and Toji would be left alone as usual. You were half asleep, cuddled up to his chest, when you felt a hand on your breast. It took a second to process, your gaze suddenly shooting up to your stepdad, who froze in place.

"Oh," he smiled sheepishly. "Still awake, huh?" He whispered.

Your mind instantly replayed the number of times you'd innocently fallen asleep like this, only to wake up horny and wet. He was always sleeping himself, but surely he wasn't so brazen that he made a habit of groping you, his step-daughter, while you slept.

"What are you doing?" You whispered back, glancing at Megumi's door, which was open just a crack. You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but his hand remained on your tit.

Toji pouted a little, gazing down at you. He knew it was wrong but he always had a weakness for naive college girls. "Sorry, your mother has been gone so much lately, I'm a little... pent up." His finger lightly brushed over your nipple, sending pleasure up your spine.

"Toji, we can't..." You whispered, though you made no motions to stop him. It felt good. He smelled divine. The living room was dark, only lit by the glow of the TV screen. Megumi could emerge from his room any minute and that only made this hotter.

"I know, I know." He agreed with you, but his fingers kept kneading your breast. "I just really like spending time with you. I wanted to take it a little further. Make you feel good." Heat flooded your body. You were sure if he could see your expression, he'd know about the dark thought threatening to take over.

You and your mother had the same taste in men. Admittedly you'd always been fixated on older men, maybe trying to fill the void the lack of a father had. But he filled that void perfectly. The reason it felt weird to spend time with him was because you wanted this. You wanted him to touch you and praise you. And you wanted more.

"I'll stop if you want me to." He added. It was too late, the desire in your body burning a hole in your innocence. The buried feelings you had for him shattered that tiny bottle. You wanted to fuck your stepdad.

Your face felt hot. You looked at the TV, playing sports highlights that you couldn't care less about. The sound was loud enough that you couldn't hear the clacking on Megumi's keyboard. And the sinful thought that entered your mind was that Megumi couldn't hear anything happening in here, either.

"No..." your voice was nearly silent. "Don't stop."

His eyes widened for a moment, movements paused. "Oh?" The empathetic smile on his face was replaced with one of a predator. The man could have torn himself away from you a moment ago but now? Even if you changed your mind he'd be playing those words in his head over and over until he could coerce them from your lips again. "You sure?" He added, in an attempt to appear more respectful than he intended to be.

The glow of the TV highlighted your features as you looked back at him. Your eyes were big and soft, like you were on the verge of taking back the permission you just gave him. Before you could say a word, his free hand tilted your chin, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. All the while, he massaged your breast again, your body melted against his.

"It's ok, princess. Just say the word and I'll stop." His voice was sensual, a soft murmur in your ear before his lips pressed to your neck. Shivers ran up your spine and you arched your back, giving him easier access to your collarbone.

It felt so good. His undivided attention, his touch, it was like a drug that you couldn't get enough of.

You knew you should tell him to stop as he tugged you onto his lap. You straddled his thick thighs, feeling his bulge against your clothed cunt. You knew how wrong it was for you to let him lift your top. The feeling of the forbidden pleasure coursed through you as he peppered kisses on your breasts. He was married to your mother. Thoughts of her long erased by his lips wrapping around your nipple. His tongue flicked the bud as your breathing became unsteady. He had a kid your age. But Toji Fushiguro doted on you, his son in the other room nearly forgotten as his thick fingers felt your pussy through the thin pajama shorts you wore.

Finally, finally you were the favorite. His fingers pushed your shorts and panties aside, sliding his cock into the space between the fabric and your wet cunt. It didn't matter that your mother ignored you in favor of the revolving door of your her lovers anymore. His thick girth was nestled perfectly between your pussy lips. You didn't need to grasp at straws trying to relate to your uninterested stepbrother. Toji's tip danced at your entrance, making you tingle with anticipation as you let yourself drown in his affection.

"So fuckin' sexy..." He mumbled against your breast. The praise nearly made you whimper, glancing at Megumi's cracked door as you bit your lip. "Wanna do me a favor?"

Words still escaped you, meeting his gaze with a shy nod of your head. It was almost cute, as if you were trying to play up the innocent act. Toji wanted nothing more than to flip you on your back and fuck you mercilessly on the couch until you were screaming his name. Get you to admit you'd been flirting and leading him on this whole time. After all, what kind of a slut shows this much interest in her stepdad? But with Megumi in the other room, he needed you quiet. And he knew just the perfect way to tease you.

"Just want you wrapped around me for a minute." He pushed his hips up so you could feel his cock sliding in your folds.

"Toji, we..." you trailed off a moment, considering how desperately you wanted to say yes. Your eyes were on Megumi's door again, dreading the idea that he could get up at any moment and find the two of you like this. "We shouldn't." You whispered.

"It's not sex." His hands were on your ass, encouraging you to grind against his dick. Your body moved with a mind of its own, the friction adding to the heat bubbling in your core. "Just a little cockwarming. It's no big deal."

"I don't know..." You knew there were reasons to say no but none of them came to mind anymore. You were so needy and horny and you felt yourself melting into every touch.

"It'll feel good. Don't you want to feel good?" He pressed his lips to your ear, whispering softly. His finger found your clit, toying with the sensitive bud as you rolled your hips against him.

You didn't answer, freezing up while pleasure coursed through you. Your cunt ached, desperate to be filled with him. You buried your face in his neck, panting as you whined silently in response.

"C'mon, princess." He fingered you faster, a sadistic grin spreading on his face. You were close. He could tell you were close from how fucking wet you were. Even his balls were soaked. "You want me to stop?" He slowed his ministrations, watching your reaction carefully.

"Don't stop." You immediately murmured. Your core frustratingly teetered on edge, frowning at your stepfather for toying with you like this. "Fuck," you moaned softly, careful to remain as silent as possible. You'd had sex before but college boys were nothing compared to him. You'd never ever wanted someone so bad. "I wanna cockwarm you..."

"Good girl." Toji grinned, and the praise went straight to your cunt. He lined himself up, your natural slick more than enough lubrication despite his size. It was a tight fit, he slowly eased your hips down until he bottomed out with a groan. "So good for me... my perfect angel..." admiration dripped from his lips.

The praise alone was enough for your pussy to flutter around him. Your back arched, a lewd expression on your face as your gaze met his. He smirked, now knowing how easy it would be to make you cum. "Stay still for me, princess. No matter what." You eagerly nodded your head, hoping for more praise. But he said nothing, instead groping your tits before latching on again.

He paid close attention to your irregular breathing. As his tongue and teeth tugged at your nipple, one of his hands toyed with your other breast. His free hand slid down your torso and into your panties, swirling around your clit. Your breath hitched, your cunt tightening around him. Feeling how full his big dick made you. You were getting close again as desire bubbled in your core.

You sighed with ecstasy, obediently doing your best not to move around. Slick now drooled onto the base of his cock, your sweet pussy clenching around him as your pleasure heightened, a familiar heat swirling within you. You felt so sensitive, fighting the instincts that were desperate for friction. You bit your knuckle holding back the moan that threatened to burst as Toji's movements sped up.

Your whole body tensed up, your orgasm suddenly and violently washing through you. Your cunt squeezed him as he helped you ride through the pleasure, his hands now gripping your hips to hold you in place. He continued to suck your tit, although his movement slowed to allow you to breathe. Still, he refused to pull out until he felt an aftershock or two strangle his cock.

"Such a good girl." Toji murmured in the shell of your ear, tugging you against his chest and leaning back onto the sofa.

@sourpeachsayshi

[tellmeallaboutit]

knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)

Chapter 4, In Which You Attend A Very Special Event (Part 1)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

(you'll see full art when I finish because it's spoilery as fuck I realized (too late))

SUMMARY: You accidentally the whole Coca-Cola bottle summoned Raphael (or so you'd think) to Earth.

TAGS: meta romance, psychological horror, smut, the character is the player, Raphael is after you, you wanted him, you invited him to our world, he accepted your invitation

RATING: explicit

AO3

Chapter 4

“Buonasera”, Raphael leaned against the doorframe, taking in your appearance. "You look ravishing," he said before giving you a brief kiss on the cheek. 

You could feel his light stubble grazing against your skin. Notes of cherries and leather wafted off of him. No sulphur.

Ravishing was perhaps too grand a term, but you put in your best effort. You wore a black dress. While choosing, you went through wanting to be extravagant, then classic, then unconventional, then elegant again, and landed on a little black dress because you thought the devil in a suit would like it.

He, for his part, looked immaculate (of course). His crisp white shirt was expertly pressed, a sleek black waistcoat around his torso. His trench coat hung open, and he played with his car keys.

That surprised you. You had imagined he’d have a chauffeur in a black peak cap, driving a long black limousine. Could Raphael even drive a car? Did he learn to drive for you? Is it difficult to learn to drive a car? You had no driving licence and no idea.

"Thank you, come on in," you invited, breathing in and out low and steady. Did this invitation hold any significance, like with vampires? "I'll just grab my bag and I am ready to go. Do I need to take anything? My wallet?"

You were slowly getting used to the thought of Raphael being real, you mused to yourself. Well, real. At least a constant hallucination in your life.

"Only if you are planning to offend me," he replied with a laugh. “And I hope you are not”.

Raphael followed you into your flat, taking in the surroundings with a half-pitiful, half-amused expression that said “I'm not saying anything because I am well-mannered, but I'm thinking a lot to myself." Well, yes. Not the House of Hope, not even an upper scale apartment, just a run-down studio, forty-six square metres, overdue for some renovation. What more could a young professional afford in today's economy?

Raphael briefly glanced at your open laptop with disinterest, then his eyes lingered on your neatly made bed with its white, slightly faded linen. A small smile formed on his lips as if he entertained a certain thought.

You had entertained quite some thoughts about him while lying on that very bed. 

Snatching your phone, keys, and card holder, you cleared your throat and put on an "I'm prepared for whatever comes next" expression as Raphael's eyes moved from the bed to settle between your breasts.

Not in a suggestive way.

"Oh...you are Catholic?" His tone suddenly shifted - was it cautious, repulsed, or bewildered? 

"No, I am not religious," you responded, shaking your head and taking a step towards the exit. Raphael didn't budge. The raised eyebrow at the cross around your neck hinted that he wasn't entirely convinced. "You mean the cross? My mother gave it to me for protection and… ugh, protection," you added.

“The age gap between us was not lost on me, but I never imagined you were still young enough to seek fashion advice from your mother," he remarked with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

It was clear what he wanted - the cross had to go. You recalled the black screen in the video and your own possessed, sickly face.

The cross stays on. 

You didn’t believe in God (well, you did believe a bit more now), but the cross stays on. Even during sex. Especially during sex.

“Does the cross bother you?”, you asked.

"Why would it bother me?", he questioned. "Because I am the devil?"

Oh, there you go. Is it confession time already? 

You remained silent, refusing to fall into a trap again. Let him say what he wanted.

He did not say anything, but he extended his hand and gently grasped the cross. Shit. Shit. Raphael traced his thumb along the edges almost as if he was trying to decipher its meaning.

There was no recoil, no burning, no hissing. Part of you hoped there would be. Part of you thought there should be. Then again, there is no Christ in Toril. 

"Ah, the agony! It burns, the Holy Symbol, it burns!" Raphael made a half-hearted attempt at a pained grimace before letting go of your cross. "Yes, after you referred to me as Raphael twice, I did some investigating. A computer game devil, is he not?”

Referring to a video game as "a computer game" was a very authentic boomer move, you had to admit. 

Two can play this game, Raphael.

"Well, I wouldn't say Raphael is THE devil," you said casually. "He's just A devil."

Raphael tilted his head in amusement. 

There was something oppressive about his presence, the way he stood taller than you, the way he took up more space than he should have, making your apartment look tiny.

“To be fair”, you continued. ”He’s not even that. He’s a cambion, half human, one of the lowest beings in the levels of hells. He likes calling himself a devil for effect though; probably gets a kick out of scaring people.”

Definitely gets a kick out of scaring people. There, you said it. Now let's see if Raphael would drop the act.

You held your breath as silence stretched between you - five seconds...four...three...two...one...

Would your screams reach the neighbours?

Would they call the police?

And if they did, would the police even help? What happens if they shoot him? Will he bleed black blood? Why were you even thinking about that right now?

"Well," Raphael finally broke the silence and placed a gentle hand on your waist, guiding you towards the door. "Judging by his many admirers, it seems some people quite enjoy being scared. Shall we depart?"

God damn it.

You gave a quick nod, trying to subtly adjust your right stocking which felt slightly loose. You had bought them on Sunday but hadn't tried them on yet (which you should have done). Raphael noticed but pretended not to, his hand on your back guiding you downstairs.

The door closed and you wished it farewell. 

Who knows if you'll ever see it again.

****

Raphael's car was exactly what one would expect from him if he did drive one - flashy, shiny, predatory; a sleek beast painted in blood red. The kind of car that turned heads and started conversations among curious onlookers. 

The kind of car that made teenage boys gather around in awe, wondering how he could afford it and why he was driving it in this neighbourhood. 

And so they did, and so you stumbled upon it, surrounded by admirers.

"Nice car, sir!" exclaimed one of them. "Is it a Maserati? A Gran Turismo, right? How fast can it go from zero to sixty?"

"In less than four seconds. Work hard and you might own one someday too, boy," Raphael replied. “More than one if you are any good”.

"Uh-huh," the teenager said, not entirely convinced. You couldn't blame him; you were not entirely convinced either.

You considered yourself a socialist and always voted left (well, you voiced your opinions more often than you voted, but still), but a socialist getting into a Maserati was a bit of an oxymoron, so you decided to put politics aside for tonight. Besides, you weren't sure you wanted to hear Raphael's political opinions on... well, anything at all.

"Or you could always sell your soul to me. Is that not right, Anya?", Raphael turned to you with a playful wink. Now it was your turn to say "uh-huh" and adjust your stocking again. 

The gaggle of boys took their cue and dispersed as Raphael stepped forward to open the passenger door for you. You tried to sit down as gracefully as you could, but the leather creaked against your skin and your dress rose to obscene heights. 

Quickly, you tugged it back down.

Without a word, Raphael started the car and pulled away from the curb. He was no stranger to this routine - following traffic laws, navigating through the city streets. He felt at ease behind the wheel, it’s not the first time he has driven a sports car.

Something didn't feel right. It all seemed like too much effort; the complicated act, blending into society, creating a false background. Raphael knew who he was, and so did you. So why did he insist on pretending to be someone else? Not even someone entirely different, someone so clearly inspired by himself.

He must be testing you, but for what reason, to what end, for what? Loyalty? Endurance? Ability to take psychic damage?

There is always another truth: there is no bloody devil (of course there isn’t). There is a young woman going through acute psychosis in isolation. You might be now banging your head in a room with very soft carpets on the walls, imagining yourself to be driving in a fancy car with a man you fancied-oh-so-much. 

You need proof. You need solid proof. For your own sanity. The thing is, when you need to prove that you are sane, you are half-insane already. 

"I must say, this is not the safest neighbourhood for a young woman living alone," Raphael said, scanning the area with a wary eye.

Oh, the neighbourhood was fine, he was the most dangerous thing around these parts by far. At times, you would encounter a few junkies asking for spare change or hear about your neighbour getting mugged. 

“I am afraid that’s all I can afford. Have you seen the rent prices nowadays?”, you chuckled. “Well, you probably haven’t.”

“On the contrary,” Raphael shook his head. “I am well aware. I have several investment properties inside and outside the city.”

“Well, that is exactly why I cannot afford anything nicer.”

"That can change at a moment's notice," he said and gave you a sly smile. "Quicker than you might think."

You couldn't suppress your coquettish grin; his words reminded you of his generous gift from earlier - a cool grand handed over just like that. Not that you were mercantile (not that you ever had much of a chance to be, either); but if you were living in an imaginary world, might as well imagine yourself wealthy too.  Socialism is…

Well, for real life.

"Where are we headed?" you asked as he merged onto a busy street. “Is there an address?”

"Why? Do you want to send it to your mother?" Raphael's eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead. “For protection?”

Still cannot let go of you wearing the cross?

"Yes, I do. Just in case you decide to keep me locked up in chains in your basement," you joked. 

Sort of joked.

He glanced at you, and you couldn't help but wonder if you had finally hit a nerve.

"On our first date? I am a gentleman, an old-fashioned one at that," he retorted, feigning insult. "I'll ensure you reach home safely, plant a goodnight kiss and wish you sweet dreams."

Not exactly how you envisioned the night ending, but you chose not to argue.

“The address is Grand Rue 3, the old theatre,” Raphael said. “If you do not make it home tonight, tell your mother to check the basement.”

It’s the centre, the very centre. Nobody gets killed in the centre of the city. In the bushes, in the slums, in the outskirts, but not in the centre. It’s too much hassle.

Right?

“The one at the street corner? I didn’t think it was open.”

“For the general public, it is not”, Raphael said. “For the few who are invited, it is.”

You drove in silence for some time, and then you spoke up:

“So, is there a play there or…”

Hopefully there was also a dinner, you thought as you nervously adjusted your stocking, because you were so bloody hungry.

“You will find out enough”, Raphael said. “Anya, dear, I have seen the lace on your stockings in every little detail already, so do not bother pulling them up.”

You hastily pulled up your stockings.

“They’re new...I think I took the wrong size. Too large.”

"Well then, take them off. There is no use trying to keep them from slipping down, and it is quite a distracting sight."

You gave him an incredulous look; unsure if he was serious.

He seemed pretty serious about it. That’s some old-fashioned gentleman.

"Take them off?", you repeated.

As the car slowed down to halt near a corner street, you contemplated checking if the doors were locked but decided against it - no subtle way to do that.

"You heard me correctly," Raphael confirmed, leaning back and taking his time to examine you. 

Yeah, okay. Okay. That’s a perfectly normal and a justified request, or at least you would act as if it were.

With some hesitation, you removed your shoes first and then gradually rolled down your stockings to reveal your freshly waxed legs. You tried to make it look sensual but ended up feeling more like a rookie stripper or a soldier executing orders.

His eyes were glued to you as you undressed. It was the sort of stare that makes skin tingle.

It felt pretty good.

By the time you pulled your stockings off, your panties were much wetter than when you got into the car. Raphael knew it, and you knew that he knew it. He had access to every dirty little fantasy in your browser history. 

On the other hand, you were completely oblivious to his kinks; the only hints you got were Haarlep and the debtors in the House of Hope. It's hard to say which of those is the most disturbing.

"Such exquisite feet," he complimented. "Lovely nail polish. I do adore crimson red."

What was it about the way he said it that felt so... dirty?

Raphael then glanced at the scar on your knee and asked, "Now, is there anything else you bought just for me that keeps slipping?"

Everything you wore you bought new for him, panties to bra, except for the cross.

"I am just teasing," he chuckled, cutting you off just as your lips parted to retort. "We have arrived."

Raphael signalled someone outside. A uniformed valet appeared at your side of the door, reaching for the handle with his gloved hand. The door swung open with a soft click.

A cool gust of wind brushed against your bare legs as you stepped out into one of the quieter corners in the city centre. You couldn't exactly recall when this quaint theatre was built but if asked, you'd guess it was a relic from early 20th century opulence. Red bricks and stone columns stood tall amidst modern buildings like a stubborn old man refusing to budge.

Raphael casually tossed the keys into the air with a quick flick of his wrist. 

The valet caught them mid-flight.

***

You were not sure what you had expected.

A password in Latin to enter, people in mysterious white masks, cultists chanting in circles around Raphael, hailing him as their new god, something out of Eyes Wide Shut. The reality was much more mundane. Still high-end, but lacking the unhinged allure you might have imagined. Just the private turf of the rich, the only odd thing being the electric entrance sign that read:

"MAGIC THEATER. ENTRANCE NOT FOR EVERYBODY. FOR MADMEN ONLY!"

Since you could pass the threshold, you assumed you were mad enough to pass the bar.

As you stepped inside, your eyes met those of an older man with a rugged face and a thin scar under his eye in the cloakroom. Raphael handed him his pair of identical black iPhones and AirPods, and then it was your turn to do the same.

It took you a moment to process the fact that Raphael had gotten himself not one but two iPhones just to pass himself off as a human, high-profile lawyer. You followed suit, handing over your electronic devices after one last long look. The last hour was the longest you'd gone without looking at your phone.

queen-of-the-bored: look we are all freaking out after what happened to your twitch

queen-of-the-bored: that’s some creepy pasta shit PLEASE write something PLEASE

“E’ un piacere rivederla capo! Che bella ragazza che ha rimediato!”, the man's words were directed at Raphael as he helped you out of your jacket.

“Vero, vero”, Raphael nodded in agreement. “E’ stupenda e non sa nemmeno di esserlo”.

What were they saying? They were talking about you, you could feel it.

“Non c'è niente di meglio!”, the man continued with a sycophantic grin on his face as he took Raphael's trench coat. He had a rose and a skull tattoo on his wrist.

“Beh, è completamente fuori di testa. Pensa che io sia il diavolo, in senso letterale”. 

“Le più sexy sono quelle pazze, capo!”

Your knowledge of Italian was minimal at best. The only words you understood were "devil" and "sexy." Neither of which gave any insight into the situation, and that these words fit perfectly together you had known before. 

The theatre was converted into a private club and restaurant, keeping the stage, but adding the chairs and the table and the sofas, the leather-bound books on the walls, the mahogany tables, the smell of cigars and whisky in the air. The only infernal or infernal-looking symbol you could spot was a square and a compass sigil on red velvet curtains. 

Everyone knew Raphael. 

A crowd of well-dressed men and women reached out to greet him; they exchanged words, smiles, kisses on the cheek (was that an Italian thing?), pats on the back. They looked at you as if you were beautiful or interesting. 

Was it because you were supposed to be beautiful, accompanied by such a man?

Raphael’s hand never left your back as he exchanged pleasantries. He seldom spoke English to them. French, Italian, German, Russian, Turkish. The sound of a foreign language can be pretty, but it can also be eerie, discerning, the us-versus-them thing. Hearing them speak was rather the latter.

You couldn't guess who these people were. There is very little difference between how a businessman, a politician or a criminal look; besides, these three professions were perfectly compatible. 

The debtors, probably; not literally in chains yet, but certainly owing something and in some kind of servitude.

The prime spot in the room was yours—or rather, it was Raphael's. The table had been marked, a lone initial "R" carved into its surface.

When the waiter suggested an aperitif, you selected a Negroni Sbagliato, because you thought it sounded sophisticated (and so did Olivia Cooke), Raphael ordered "bourbon and blood" because of course he would. You didn't even question if he meant actual blood.

As you chewed on your lip, your eyes darting around the room, Raphael reached across the table. His fingers brushed against yours before he lifted your hand to his lips. “Anya, may I make a small confession?"

"Yes?"

A soft kiss was pressed into your knuckles as he murmured, "I am delighted to have you here with me tonight. Believe it or not, I am but a lonely tired man in a dire need of pleasant company."

His genuine sincerity, the lines around his eyes and the hint of sadness in them disarmed you for a moment. 

Who the fuck was this man?

Before you could answer, the curtain opened to reveal a small figure behind it.

It was a dwarf. Not the fantasy dwarf, an actual dwarf - you struggled to recall the politically correct term for them - was it "little person?". He was like something from a lucid dream: crimson suit-clad, slick-backed hair on pale skin, moving with an almost rhythmic grace.

Right. Twin Peaks. Could Raphael read your thoughts? Did he know you were thinking about Laura Palmer?

Or perhaps he too was a David Lynch fan?

"Welcome, dear ones," the little man said, his voice surprisingly deep. "I am grateful for your presence tonight. Some of you I have known since the millennia, while others are new to my realm."

He was looking at you. He meant you.

Raphael squeezed your hand tighter, fingers intertwined, an oddly intimate gesture, as if you’d been dating for a long time. You squeezed back, feeling comforted and sheltered in his touch.

“There are rules that govern this place”, the little man continued. “Rules, as well all know, are under no circumstances not to be broken, or there would be consequences. Same rules apply to everyone”.

“What are the rules?”, you whispered.

Raphael flashed you a wide smile, wrinkles in the corner of his eyes.

“Patience, he will tell us”, he whispered back. “They are never the same. If they were, would that be interesting?”

Consistency would be nice, you thought.

“You, little miss!”, the little man pointed his finger at you. “Yes, you, you specifically, little miss, little-miss-with-the-cross. Tell me, how well can you distinguish reality from fantasy?”

Oh, how you despise being the centre of attention. All eyes on you. All of them. These rich, strange, scary people looking at you and your naked legs and your weird knees and your…

“Not very well”, you said. “Not very well at all, I am afraid”.

The dwarf cackled, Raphael followed suit, everybody laughed, and you were not joking at all. 

“Yes, she is remarkably honest”, Raphael praised, giving you an adoring kiss on the cheek. “A wonderful quality, is it not?”

“Shall we give it a little try, little miss?”, the dwarf asked.

Why you? Out of all people, why did it have to be you? Because you were with him?

"Come now, don't be shy”, Raphael chimed in. “There is nothing to fear in this place."

(Except me).

"Would you lend a hand, R?" The dwarf turned his attention to Raphael.

“It would be my absolute pleasure," he replied and positioned himself behind your chair. "Eyes forward," he instructed as you attempted to swivel towards him.

Raphael’s fingers gently grazed your cheek before sliding behind your head. 

You felt the soft fabric of a blindfold being secured over your eyes and instinctively clutched the armrests of your chair tighter. The room was plunged into darkness, every sound amplified; the rustling of his clothes, the creaking of the chairs beneath you, the whispering and giggling of others in the room, and your own heartbeat thumping loudly in your ears. 

Raphael's hands rested on your shoulders.

"I want you to try this and tell me what it tastes like", came the dwarf’s voice from somewhere ahead, as the waiter (you presumed) set the table before you. “Let imagination be your guide.”

Taste? Taste without looking? You heard the sound of Raphael picking up a fork and piercing something in front of you. 

“Open wide”, Raphael said. 

If you could say no when he would make such a request, you wouldn’t be here in the first place.

So open wide is what you did and let Raphael push something between your lips and onto your tongue. You sucked and then bit down. 

The texture was unlike anything you had ever tasted before - bubbly, tenderly sweet with a savoury undertone, slightly slick and a bit challenging to chew. 

You didn’t have the faintest clue what it could be.

“It’s an…”, you took a wild guess. “it’s a.. it’s a piece of lamb in some sugar sauce, I think?”

There were a lot of excited laughs and giggles at your response. 

What did you try? 

What the fuck did you try? Your hands darted to your eyes to remove the blindfold, but were halted mid-way by a soft but very insistent touch.

“Keep the blindfold on until instructed otherwise,” Raphael warned before removing it himself.

You looked down at your plate and let out a loud exhale. Tiny glazed apple pieces, arranged in this typical Michelin restaurant artsy fashion, sat innocently on the large round dish. Why did the thought of meat cross your mind? What triggered that thought?

"Did your imagination run a little too wild there, little miss?" the dwarf laughed. “Seeing things that are not there?”

I know what you are all playing at, you thought bitterly. And I know who the fuck you all are, Raphael from Baldur’s Gate and the little man from Twin Peaks and I am not fucking crazy despite all your insinuations. 

“Dear ones, tonight we will serve five courses in complete darkness. Under no circumstance should you remove your blindfold; if needed, our waitstaff will guide you to restrooms. Guess what we serve tonight - at evening's end, we reveal the truth of it all”.

You said nothing while looking at the glistening apple. You never thought so much of an apple before; of how structure and taste and smell should be, of how it would (should) feel against your gums and teeth.

You kept staring at the glazed apples and thought of all the disgusting things it might have been instead. Brains? Tongues? Worms? A roasted dwarf leg?

“Rapha..”, you began and quickly corrected yourself. “Raul, just one thing, I… I do not eat human flesh”.

His response came after two slow blinks.

“Thank you for that wonderful piece of information. What am I supposed to do with it?”.

Not serving human meat would be a good start.

"Oh my little girl," Raphael cooed as he tenderly stroked your cheek. 

(why do you allow him to call you his little girl why this is disgusting this is so hot)

"You don’t seriously think…”, he continued. “Even if I had such inclinations - which I don't - cannibalism is illegal in this country.”

Oh yes, of course, he was a very lawful, very rule-abiding devil.

“And if it was legal?”, you asked.

"Anya," Raphael sighed heavily, "Your questions intrigue and frighten me in equal measures. Now, put on your blindfold." He added when he saw your hesitation: "Of course I will do the same - same rules apply”.

You trusted him to do as he said, since you put on your blindfold first. 

"As a warm-up, we have something that may bring back memories of your childhood," the waiter announced as he set down a dish in front of you. Your fingers searched and found the accompanying spoon. 

You breathed in the scent, which was so mild it told you nothing. Even if it turned out to be terrible or disgusting, you still wanted to taste it; you still wanted to do rather than not do; after a lifetime of not doing rather than doing.

The first spoonful exploded with nostalgia – kindergarten, afternoon naps, finger paints. The creamy texture and subtle sweetness with a touch of honey. 

Quite lovely, actually.

On the other side of the table, you heard a strangled gasp as if someone had just been forced to eat live worms.

"You don't like it?" you asked.

"I do not," Raphael responded gruffly. "But I am well aware that was the intention, so my compliments to the chef."

You wondered that a lot about him. The motherless childhood, growing up in hells, an evil bastard for a father. A chanceless, bleak fate, to be born evil, among evil, for evil, all privilege and no hope. If only Raphael would answer truthfully about that instead of spinning tales about some Italian village.

"I remember when we first met when you mistook me for an actor," Raphael mused out of nowhere. "That's when I first thought we had a certain… connection."

“I thought it happened way earlier”, you said, because it happened way earlier for you.

"Ha! True, I thought you were an exquisitely stunning woman the moment I walked into this cafe, if a little... skittish... which, I must say, adds to your allure. But then again, I've had my fair share of beauties... No matter. You see, I do have an affinity for the theatre".

“Oh really? How surprising”, you laughed pretty humorlessly. The ongoing joke about "I am not who you think I am" was getting rather stale for your taste.

"Indeed," came Raphael's self-assured response. "This place owes much to... ever heard of Antonin Artaud and his Theatre of Cruelty?"

"No, but it sounds like something you would love," you said.

"You hardly know me well enough to make such judgements," he said. "And if you're implying that I'm cruel, rest assured that I am not; merely just." He paused before asking nonchalantly, "Do you mind if I light up?"

You shook your head, though he couldn't see it through his blindfold. He proceeded to light his cigarette regardless. You noticed a dance of light behind the fabric covering your eyes as Raphael took an indulgent, addicted inhale.

A twinge of regret stirred you; witnessing Raphael taking a drag would have been a sight. You’d bet that looked very old school and very villainous. Your Negroni was long gone, replaced by overly potent wine which you sipped on nonetheless.

“The problem with art, Arnaud thought, was the distance between the audience and the artist. The safe space. The little cosy chair you sit in, detached, protected, at a comfortable distance; never truly allowing art to flow through you”. 

"I thought the purpose of art was to explore dangerous themes in a safe space," you said.

"That's not exploration then; it's voyeuristic entertainment, nothing more," Raphael countered. “Art and safe space should not coexist in the same sentence.”

His cigarette smoke wafted towards you - sharp, biting, pungent with a metallic undertone not unlike rotten eggs left under the scorching sun for too long.

"Does it smell somewhat... off?" You blinked rapidly, trying to clear your stinging eyes.

You never smelled sulphur before, but you knew what it was the moment you smelled it.

“I beg your pardon?”, Raphael asked.

“The main course shall make you think of something - or someone - you crave for”, the waiter’s voice went straight into your ear, and you didn’t even hear him coming.

"I know exactly who it will make me think of," Raphael said slyly.

You took your first bite as if trying to drown out the scent. Spice, cherries, and raw beef so tender it practically melted on your tongue. Delicious. Sinfully delicious.

Just as you were about to enjoy your third bite, something warm and sinuous wrapped itself around your bare ankle and began to crawl upwards. Your meal lodged in your throat causing a coughing fit that rocked your body.

"Is the flavour too intense for your palate, my dear?", you could hear Raphael grinning. 

His tail, you realised as it ventured further up. The nerve of that fucking devil! Groping you with his tail and STILL pretending he was fucking Raul from a fucking Italian village!

"So, as I was saying," Raphael continued, his fork scraping against the plate as if nothing unusual was happening under the table. "Artaud wanted to eliminate aesthetic distance."

You reached down for his tail underneath the table. The thing had a mind of its own though; it slithered away swiftly before you could touch it. You tried to grab for it again, but the sneaky little bastard darted away, causing you to stumble under the table and end up between Raphael's legs in your blind chase.

"By transforming the theatre into a place where the spectator is exposed rather than pro..." You felt his hand rest gently on your head, "Anya, may I inquire what you are doing under the table?"

You froze. His hand gave you a light caress. 

"You know exactly what I am doing under the table," you managed to say through gritted teeth. "Looking for your goddamn tail."

Raphael's hand stopped in a half-stroke. For a fleeting moment, you imagined him pulling you closer by your hair until you were right up against his crotch.

"A tail?" He seemed genuinely perplexed at this point. "We may be lost in translation(*) here, but I assume what you're looking for is somewhat more... up."

Your mind conjured up an image of him showing you exactly where it was; unzipping his trousers and placing his cock between your lips.

Would you then open wide and give him a head right there, blindfolded, no questions asked, in a room full of strangers (and a weird dwarf) watching?

You would, wouldn't you? 

You wanted to touch him so badly, just one touch to see how hard he was for you; just one fleeting touch, maybe he wouldn't even notice?

"I am delighted that theatre talk has put you in such a playful mood," Raphael purred. "I did presume we would at least make it to dessert before…”

A wave of embarrassment washed over you at his words. You tumbled backwards onto the floor, right on your bum; bumped your head, too, pretty badly and pretty awkwardly.. 

"I wasn't... Damn, that's not what I..."

Raphael chuckled (you hated him in that moment) and your cheeks turned red. How dare he think you'd suck him off like that, in front of everyone?

Your heart pounded against your ribs as you tried to escape the four-legged table trap, bumping into everything you could bump into. The world turned on its axis for a moment as you finally crawled out from under the table, your legs shaking beneath you.

The smell of sulphur again. You lunged for where your glass should be, found it, almost knocked it over, caught it in time and drank the wine. You thought it would make you feel better, but it made you feel worse.

The tail decided to make a comeback and patted your thigh affectionately.

"I...excuse me," you stammered out, pressing a hand to your mouth. "I need to use the bathroom."

“I’ll escort you, ma’m”, the voice next to you said, and you jumped in surprise. Was the waiter here the entire time? Did he watch you stumble underneath the table?

What else was here the entire time? Who else?

Christ.

Well, fuck, no, not him. Anybody but him.

****

"R's new little pet, aren't you?" the words echoed off the marble walls of the bathroom as you entered. You saw a woman in the mirror, tracing her lips with a ruby red lipstick that matched her hair, and she said: "Careful."

She was older than you, but not old, mid-thirties maybe, but she looked like a woman who was thoroughly done with her life. A stale kind of beauty.

"Why?" you asked, your eyes never leaving hers in the reflection.

She laughed, as if you were asking something utterly ridiculous. Without ever giving you an answer, she gestured to four meticulously arranged lines on the marble countertop. "Want some? It's primo stuff. You won’t get any better"

You've never tried cocaine, nobody's ever offered you cocaine, you wouldn't know how to order it and you certainly wouldn't have the money for it. 

It's something that other people have done in the movies. The villains, the debauched, the corrupt elite.

"No thanks," you replied, "I'm already unhinged enough, I think."

Her high-pitched laughter filled the bathroom again. "Oh darling, we're all mad here. Absolutely fucking mad. Even me... Especially me."

"Who 'we'? What is this place?"

"The lodge? Why, a private playground." She gestured vaguely with her lipstick tube, as if to encompass everything around you. "His rules. His people. His theatre."

"And by 'him' you mean..."

Theoretically she could also mean the dwarf…

She laughed again, and you wished she'd just stop. "Oh, how sweet! You know exactly who 'he' is. The man who is going to fuck you tonight."

Okay, you hope it’s Raphael.

"I know who he is," you said, maintaining eye contact in the mirror. "But I thought Raphael had just arrived on Earth... I thought I was the one who summoned him here..."

"Summoned him? Like a demon or something?" She put another layer of lipstick on her lips, now facing forward. "'Raul likes them crazy,' they say, and boy they don't lie." 

She had just called him Raul.

What the fuck was going on?

"The one to summon him, ha," she sneered, spinning around to face you directly, her face inches away from yours. “We all think we're so special”.

"No, I don't," you said. "I never thought that. Never. Because I never was any special".

"Well that definitely makes you the special one. How about a kiss, special one?" 

How about what?

She leaned in closer still; her breath smelled of champagne and burnt caramel. You took a cautious step back.

"Oh-oh, look at her, such a tease. I can see why Raul brought you here."

That name again.

“Tell me about him”, you asked. “Tell me about that Raul”.

"Nah. No kiss, no tell", she replied nonchalantly while returning her gaze to the mirror. “Enjoy your evening.”

Next: Chapter 4, In Which You Attend A Very Special Event (Part 2).

(*) In some European languages, tail = cock (e.g. “Schwanz” in German).

[haventhefoox]

me when

[vinedvengence]

Spores and Stars

Chapter 1 - Acclimations

Chapter CW's: mentions of trauma, physical assault, potentially distressing trauma-related dialogue, night terrors/trauma related nightmares, grief, choking/asphyxiation (in a dream but still lol) A/N's in tags for background info

Vrisryn was irritable, to say the least. It had been over a hundred years since the elven druid had last felt any anxiety or fear even remotely close to the levels of stress which they’d endured throughout the last 24 hours. Circumstances beyond their control had become a theme in their life long before this, but a being abducted by mindflayers while on a routine stop in the city only to awaken on their crashing nautiloid? That definitely warranted a top 3 spot in the stories of unfortunate events which had become such a trademark experience for them.

Surviving the nautiloid crash and escaping illithid captivity was only the start to their newfound troubles. Other discomforts and concerns took form in the shape of discovering the fate that awaited those who become infected with illithid tadpoles, as well as the strange companions they had reluctantly picked up along the way—the abrasive but adept githyanki, Lae’zel; the untrusting & mysterious half-elf cleric, Shadowheart; the seemingly clumsy but endearing human wizard, Gale; and the pale, snide high-elf Astarion, who Vrisryn couldn’t help but notice hosted unnatural fangs and two inauspiciously placed puncture wounds along his neck. 

How subtle, they had thought to themselves when his dagger pressed along their neck–right before they rightfully headbutted him off of their person. Vampirism and the undead were not completely unfamiliar subjects for a druid of the Circle of Spores, and while the potentiality of being in proximity to such undead didn’t particularly phase the wild-elf, they couldn’t say for certain that the other party members would be as unbothered as they were by such a discovery. They chose to act oblivious to the matter for the time being. A notion for him to share and a trouble for another day, they figured after he had agreed to travel with the group. 

Vrisryn was not fond of being close to people, and traveling with others was a foreign concept altogether. Circle of Spore druids were particularly known for their preference of solitude, and even among their circle, Vrisryn was considered a recluse. Despite the wild-elf’s natural charisma, socializing was NOT something Vrisryn found enjoyable—let alone comfortable. They considered such things a necessary nuisance. Between the circumstantial & personal risks that forming close bonds carried for them and the fact that they had spent roughly the last century relatively alone in the wilderness, they had little reason to welcome any opportunities to grow close to people. Any form of socializing or interpersonal connection was something that they had learned to allow only when absolutely necessary.  

Vrisryn had no interest in close bonds with others. The bonds they had forged with nature and the wilderness had sustained them more than well enough the last century. Companionship with people was not something they had sought for since their youth; connection and intimacy had long-since been cast out of their mind and heart, believing that such frivolities to have been privileges long-since spent from the past. Even when it came to acquaintances within their Druidic Circle or work, they kept most exchanges to solely business-related matters; where they could name many associates, they would be hard pressed to claim any being as something even remotely akin to a friend–short of potentially Psilofyr, whom they refused to acknowledge as such. 

No—the druid had not felt any sense of true connection or understanding since the few years they had spent recovering from and adjusting to their spellscar in a myconoid colony. They had found themselves in the care of the strange creatures and the mad-mushroom deity after the traumatic loss of their prior life to the Spellplague which infected their homeland during the Year of Blue Fire. Where it stood now, they had grown to prefer solitude, and worked intentionally to maintain that detachment from others. It was a choice that had served them well both in their heart and with their druidic work. 

They didn’t see it as a sacrifice, but rather, as an act of acceptance of their own fate. Death had made it clear where they stood in the story that was their life. And who were they to disrupt nature’s holy balance by protesting death’s decision, let alone for the sake of their own selfish emotions or desires? The bitter acceptance of their circumstances had taken a long time to adopt after they had recovered from their creeping madness, but once it settled into their soul, they found them disconnected from the reverence they once held over the living, as well as life itself. Being invested in other people was a luxury and a distraction that Vrisryn could no longer afford. They had come to find that their indifferent attitude towards subjects such as death, violence, or tragedy—as well as their general interest in the macabre—tended to fend off most that dared to seek connection with them, anyway. It was easier to remain on the outskirts, misunderstood, and drifting along nature’s intended course.

Now, these damned tadpoles and their ability to psychically link any fellow infected threatened all of the security and familiarity Vrisryn had previously found through isolation.

So: irritable would be one way to describe Vrisryn’s mood as they settled into camp. The first day of traveling with others had been treacherous and wearing. Between the tadpoles themselves, the forced acquaintances (not to mention the subsequent bickering amongst them–who knew less than a handful of strangers could find one another so disagreeable), the skirmishes within the decaying temple, and the literal skeletal withered freak that had crawled out of the sarcophagus in the crypt underneath? It was safe to say that exhaustion had crept up on the druid faster than ever.

Vrisryn was also clearly weaker than they had been when they were kidnapped; the effects of their newfound tadpole infection wiping away much of their prior strength and stamina. Some cantrips and basic first level spells were all the druid could manage to produce at the moment, and it was a miracle that their Spellscar wasn’t already rearing its head given the circumstances. By sunset, a migraine had seeped its dreadful way into Vrisryn’s skull. Whether it was from their Spellscar, the tadpole’s squirming, or sheer stress and exhaustion was unclear—but it had become disorienting enough that the druid had demanded they make camp for the evening far earlier than they otherwise would wish to.

Thankfully, reprieve was found nearby at a scenic spot along the nearby river. The druid had felt suddenly lighter upon finding the idyllic strip of land, and its vantage point and the stretch of woods separating it from the main roads made it easy to feel safe within. As safe as one could hope to feel given the circumstances, at least. They had begun the work of setting up a firepit and bedrolls before any further input from their traveling companions could be made, short of an abrupt noise of displeasure from Lae’zel. Such expressions had become white noise by that point due to the frequency of such exclamations.

Vrisryn adorned a smug look while taking in the sight of their traveling companions settling into camp for the night, recalling how much they had each begged them to move on and away from the scene while they searched desperately for their own headpiece and armor once outside of the decrepit temple. Each companion had exclaimed that the search was for naught, and each had shut their mouth as Vrisryn continued to procure bags and effects that belonged to each of them. In true nature, they had found their belongings last, after four hours of increasingly frantic searching – three hours past finding Lae’zel’s, Gale’s, Asterion’s, and Shadowheart’s own possessions. It was always satisfying for Vrisryn to watch others eat their own words around them.

Afterwards, Vrisryn wandered aside the river, leaving without a word in search of a shred of privacy as their exhausted party members hitched tents, organized camp supplies, and unpacked their personal belongings from bags nearby the fire.Hiding behind the mass of rock that separated this stretch of the river from the eyes of the rest of the camp, they stared into clear water at their own dirty, knackered reflection. The druid ran a hand against the top of the cold, calm river, just barely grazing it as they said a tender thanks to the universe for the reprieve of the nature around them. Vrisryn could hear the muffled, occasional banter and bickering of their traveling companions nearby; but it was mostly blocked out by the gentle babbling sound of the river mixing with the stream of thoughts bombarding their mind. Everything felt incredibly raw after this day, and they found themselves overwhelmed with the unfamiliar sensations and the sheer weight of the emotions of it all. Their lungs and stomach felt tight and tense, and the migraine had become nothing short of excruciating. They weren’t adjusted to feeling so strongly about anything these days. Their anxiety built as the implications of the current circumstances sank into their reality.

It was most common for them to experience the symptoms and side effects from their Spellscar at night, particularly after stressful days. That being said, resting within the eyes and ears of others tonight was a huge risk. Despite their fatigue, Vrisryn worried over whether they’d be able to find any rest this evening. Typically, they were still able to restore energy from trancing as any other elf; but ever since they had retained their spellscar, they had discovered that their body required the type of sleep that human and half-elves needed. Often, this would occur after their more arduous travels, unnerving experiences, or grave wounds. They hoped to the hells and back in spite of the obvious odds that their body would not require such deep vulnerability tonight, equally fearful of if they’d even be able to settle enough to trance. If they did find reprieve only to wake their newfound companions with any of the side-effects of their Spellscar, who knows how those around them would react to such a thing? Especially given the events that had already unfolded through the day—they found it easy to assume that the best case scenario in that situation would result in being abandoned.

Usually the druid would be thankful for a chance at abandonment and its promise of sweet isolation, but the circumstances were too dire to take such risks right now. Despite their longings for solitude, they needed all the brainpower they could get if they wished to find help with this whole tadpole problem and refrain from turning into a mindflayer. There was power in numbers. Still, they all had little reason to trust one another, and these new associates would likely see no reason to stick around with someone who held such baggage and risk.

It could potentially even be fatal to show such vulnerability; particularly, in the case of the blade-happy githyanki who would likely mistake the unfamiliar Spellscar symptoms as proof that Vrisryn was transforming into an illithid and react far before clarification could be given. Astarion had all but started their introduction with a blade to Vrisryn’s throat, so they couldn’t imagine he’d be particularly willing to stick around at any sign of further risk or burden either. Though, they also felt he could be just self-absorbed enough to completely overlook any effects they’d endure through the night. Shadowheart and Gale seemed the most fond of the druid at this point, and while they had sensed a kindred spirit of sorts in each, they by no means felt they knew either well enough to place even the slightest bit of trust in their character. Abandonment was still far more likely than acceptance, and despite their nature, their wisdom of the daunting odds stacked against them made it impossible to justify any permanent disbanding from their companions for the foreseeable future. 

It’s also not as though Vrisryn could fault their companions if they did react that way in that event. The druid wasn’t particularly fond of this newfound situation either, nor trusting of those embarking on the journey with them–they too would be equally willing to cut off or cull any signs of danger or unneeded weight among the others at this point. Though, that could be the exhaustion speaking more than their actual beliefs or morals. They weren’t squeamish to the idea of violence any more than they savoured such measures. But any way they spun it, they found themselves at the same conclusion that these were still far too dire of circumstances to throw caution to the wind.

Vrisryn cupped their hands beneath the cold water, splashing it along their face as they stared out across the river, still lost in thought. The scent of vittles cooking in the fire wafted from nearby had grounded them back to the present somewhat. The sky was darkened now, with only a sliver of burnt orange-daylight left along the horizon as the speckles of stars and a bright, full moon washed across the sky overhead. The elf exhaled before stripping from their scale mail armor and washed themselves off quickly in the river, dampening their hair in the process but not bothering to clean it. Afterwards, they slipped into simple, comfortable threads that had been picked off the belongings of those they’d fought earlier in the day. Death’s blessing serves life’s purpose yet again, they thought to themselves reverently. Blessings be to the eternal cycle; may the spores of rebirth favor the fallen.

Turning from the corner of the rock, Vrisryn all but jumped out of their skin at the unexpected sight of the aforementioned skeletal enigma they had freed from the dank crypt earlier in the day standing nearby. The undead's blackened eyes stared intently at the druid, obviously having something he wished to say. Oh hells, they thought tiredly as they shook their head and sighed once more, approaching the creature with their arms crossed and a lifted eyebrow.

“We meet again, as predicted,” the undead greeted in its strange diction. “I shall be here in thy camp, for whenever thou hast need of my services.”

“Not to be rude, but… what exactly are you?” Vrisryn replied somewhat wearily.

“There are many answers to that question. None are important.”

“It’s important to me. Nature has an order, and while I have no issue with undead… Skeletons aren’t supposed to be able to talk.”

“Correct.” 

Vrisryn squinted in displeasure.

“…Are you going to explain further?”

“No.” His response was firm, with a tone cautioning to not press the matter further. 

Vrisryn narrowed their eyes at the undead before letting the subject drop with a roll of the eyes, too exhausted from the day to press the matter. He clearly wasn’t any threat, at the very least.

“What kind of services can a skeleton even offer?”

“Should thou or any of thy compatriots perish, I will cleave soul to body once more.”

This piqued Vrisryn’s attention immediately. A flicker of something between hope, excitement, and dread settled into their stomach at the prospect of such magic. The ability to retether the dead to life again, despite the circumstances? It was frowned upon within their circle to seek such channels, as it was considered an offense akin to stealing food from the mold and mycelium they worshiped. Yet, a part of Vrisryn’s heart had always hoped to find one capable of such skills… after all, if one was capable of such a feat, was there a chance that he could…?

“That’s incredibly powerful magic. Why is it so easy for you?” They questioned, failing to mask their obvious intrigue.

“Because it is my calling,” the withered man in front of them retorted matter-of-factly. “There is little else to explain.”

“You mentioned a cost. What is it?”

“A matter of coin, 200 gold, to be precise.”

“Could you… revive others, besides the companions I carry now?”

An unreadable expression passed over the wrinkled, misshapen face in front of them. Something between disappointment and understanding, perhaps even pity–though, Vrisryn themselves could not decipher the look. 

“No. The threads of fate have already woven thy story; I shall only offer aid to thy chapters' future, not those of thou’s past.”

Reality quickly settled back in where the flicker of hope had taken hold moments ago. Disappointed but not surprised, Vrisryn’s expression sobered again. They nodded curtly, wincing as their head pounded harder with the motion, tadpole squirming behind their eye, before walking away from the undead man and back towards camp. There was nothing else to say on the matter, and the being didn’t seem privy to share much else at the moment anyway.

Returning in search of food, Vrisryn found Gale was standing in front of the campfire, clearly brooding. Each companion had set up their personal spots rather efficiently. To the side, Lae’Zel had somehow managed to create or procure a whetstone and was sharpening her blade, visibly irate in her own right. Shadowheart seemed deep in a prayer or perhaps meditation, and Astarion had buried his face within some large, dusty book. Vrisryn approached Gale first, though they had only done so to obtain some of the food nearby, not for conversation.

Just as they came from behind the wizard, he let out a deep exhale, and spoke:

“Go to Hell.”

“And a good evening to you, too.” Vrisryn answered sarcastically, bemused by the unexpected greeting as they reached for a serving of their supplies. 

“Hah! You’re a good sport,” Gale responded, before beginning his tirade. 

“Go to Hell. An everyday expression. So trivial, it’s almost meaningless—but we’ve seen Hell. It’s real. And it isn’t trivial.”

Vrisryn watched the flames in silence, taking a bite of the roasted sausage and carrots they’d obtained, unsure of what to say or where this exchange was leading. Still, they stood watching and listening to Gale intently, enticed by his sullen remarks.

“Devils, dragons, mindflayers — they used to be abstracts. Pictures on a piece of paper… What a difference a day makes. Now, we have tadpoles slithering through our heads like carnivorous foeti,” Gale turned now to face the druid, heavy and worried brown eyes locking with theirs. “That’s not abstract.”

There was a profound sadness and lethargy in the man’s expression that Vrisryn could tell was borne far before the illithid experiences they shared. Despite this, the flickers of orange from the nearby fire across his face painted the wizard in a charming light, Vrisryn noted. He had a comforting, charming visage, in spite of his pessimistic words and downtrodden aura. At least everyone in this little entourage is easy on the eyes… they thought shamelessly. Little victories, I suppose.

“We’re in deep shit, Gale; I can’t argue with you on that. Brooding will get us nowhere. Action will,” they finally offered, unable to spare any words of real comfort or reassurance at the moment amidst the waves of pain shooting through them. There was a moment of weighted silence between them once more as they both stared at the fire.

“This ballet of flames invites reflection,” Gale replied after some time. “But point made; you’re right. Let’s be up with the lark – find a healer before the wee one gets hungry.” He tapped his head with a smirk, emphasizing exactly who the wee one in question was. Vrisryn winced again as their tadpole squirmed almost in response, causing further tension in their sore skull. They felt dizzy for a moment from the pain, but if Gale had noticed anything, he made no sign of it. His back was now turned to them as he cast his thoughtful gaze silently towards the fire.

Behind them, Vrisryn noticed that Shadowheart had stood up from her prayer at some point during their conversation. The half-elf was eyeing the two of them suspiciously, though she turned her head away as soon as Vrisryn went to meet her eyes. Putting aside her seemingly aloof and untrusting nature, Shadowheart had earned Vrisryn’s trust the most thus far. Clearly the feeling wasn’t yet mutual, but Vrisryn wasn’t particularly bothered by that. Maybe it was the druid’s bias for clerics due to the deep gnome–Smilvi–who had helped nurse them both physically and emotionally, during and after their creeping madness in the Underdark. 

Favoritism for clerics aside, Shadowheart had proven fairly trustworthy and sound of mind with strong, individual morals that the druid could respect. Regardless of her icy exterior, they had gotten the impression that Shadowheart harbored a secret softness, as well as some sense of care or favor for them. At the minimum, she had at least been kind & respectful. She had gone as far as to show concern over Vrisryn’s well-being when the decision to recruit Lae'zel was made. Even if it was only due to their help on the nautiloid or a need to not face the odds ahead alone, the consideration was welcomed. Plus, they could understand her wariness and respected her obvious affinity for privacy. 

Vrisryn walked in the cleric’s direction despite the beckoning of the nearby bedroll they’d laid out for the night. They figured they might as well make a round along the camp to check in with all of their company before settling down for the evening. At the very least, doing so reduced the risk of being bothered by one of them with questions or concerns later. Vrisryn doubted they’d be particularly understanding towards any disruption of the limited rest they’d be getting tonight. 

“What were you two talking about?” Shadowheart probed in an accusatory tone as they approached.

“What do you mean?” Vrisryn replied, slightly taken aback by the cleric’s tone. That wasn’t a question they were expecting. 

“You and Gale.” She clarified, casting a scowl toward the man’s direction. His back was still turned to them, lost in thought near the fire.

“We were just discussing the next steps.”

“I see,” She said, pausing for a moment to cast her glare back towards the wizard. “I’d be careful with Gale.”

“You don’t trust Gale?” Vrisryn asked, an eyebrow raised in question. The man hadn’t particularly struck them as fallacious or deceptive by any means, let alone given them any reason for concern.

“He’s a wizard. All they care about is power.” 

“Well, I wasn’t confiding in anyone. I was just talking,” the druid replied defensively, shifting their weight and placing a hand against their hip with a look. The abrasive and negative attitude radiating off each member of their party was beginning to wear on their already thin patience, and they didn’t care for others questioning their judgement. 

“So am I,” Shadowheart retorted coyly. “If we’re to survive, we need to trust each other… You seem reliable. I think you know how important it is that we find someone who can cure us. Best if we focus on that.”

“Let’s not abandon all caution,” Vrisryn warned. “This is unfamiliar territory, and there is power in numbers, Shadowheart.”

“Caution is a luxury we don’t have,” Shadowheart sighed. There was a glimmer of approval and understanding in her eyes at the response of Vrisryn’s words, however. “Let’s rest and wake up at first light.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Vrisryn replied as they walked away, shifting their attention now towards the pale elf with his head buried in a book. As they approached, Astarion clapped the book shut and tossed it on a nearby pillow. 

“You know, I’ve been thinking…” he started.

Oh, here we fucking go, Vrisryn thought, sighing and preparing themselves for this nights next batch of draining social interaction. Couldn’t they just get a short, simple exchange with one person tonight? Whatever was coming from this exchange seemed to hold promise of being particularly tiring, even more so than Shadowheart’s distrust and Gale’s sorrowful droning. Not to mention that they still had Lae’zel to check in with. 

“And I think there’s something I should tell you,” Astarion continued in a lulling tone. “Nothing big or terrible, just a… small, little detail about me that hasn’t come up naturally.” 

The pale elf moved his hands and shifted his weight in nervous contrast to his inflection as he talked, flourishing the words with his body language. Vrisryn assumed it was an attempt at either some sort of seduction, or perhaps just some form of self-soothing. His anxiety was palpable, and Vrisryn could tell he was struggling to figure out how to approach this matter delicately. If they hadn’t been so exhausted and irate, they likely would have provided more in the way of encouragement or support. It was obvious this wasn’t comfortable for him, but Vrisryn was far too spent to offer such grace to these strangers tonight. Instead, they stared directly at the elf with a firm gaze and a growing annoyance while awaiting his confession, wishing for him to get on with it and spit it out.

“It’s just that I happen to be a — ah, what’s the best way to put this…? …A vampire? A-ha!” His gray-white eyebrows were raised and pinched in anticipation, and an almost shy smirk accompanied his nervous laughter. His eyes looked similar to those of a cornered animal, waiting to see if they needed to bite.

“Well… yes. Obviously.” Vrisryn replied dryly, expression appearing unwaveringly detached and disinterested. Astarions eyes widened for a moment, brows raising, clearly taken aback by the druid’s indifference. He cleared his throat before dropping the expression and replying:

“R-right. Well. Glad we got that out of the way! So… Was there anything else?”

“Hmm…” Vrisryn pondered for a moment, looking up and to the side as their mouth pinched to one corner in thought. They fiddled with the ball of their lip ring between their teeth as they thought.

“I’ve read some texts on vampirism while studying within my circle, but I’ve always wondered how much of it was accurate. Many of the script on the subject is either riddled with obvious bias, or baseless smut. So, I’m curious – how does one become a vampire, exactly?”

“Oh, it’s simple,” Astarion drawled, still fidgeting around in those oddly flamboyant, fluid-like movements as he spoke. Something about the motions amused Vrisryn.

“Just find a vampire that will drink your blood and turn you into a vampire spawn: their obedient puppet. In theory, the next step is to drink their blood. Once you’ve done that, you’re free and a true vampire.”

“In theory?” Vrisryn probed.

“People think that the biggest threat to a vampire is a cleric with a stake,” his eyes shot to Shadowheart with a look of distaste before locking back to Vrisryn’s topaz and green eyes.

“It’s not. The biggest threat to a vampire is another vampire. They’re scheming, paranoid, power-hungry beasts,” Astarion bent at the waist here, leaning in towards Vrisryn at this point. His red eyes lowered and appeared hungry, as if to further illustrate his warning, and his arms spread around him in a sort of shrug as he continued.

“So, why would any vampire give up control over a spawn to create a competitor? Trust me. It doesn’t happen.”

“Interesting… Tell me some more about yourself.” Vrisryn demanded, their interest suddenly whetted by the first bits of vulnerability offered by any of their companions that proved to be a distraction from the tadpole still thrashing in their skull.

Astarion was entertaining to speak to so far, and somehow Vrisryn found that talking to him didn’t unnerve them as much as talking to the other party members did. Possibly, it was just a side effect of the high-elf’s apparent comfort at hearing his own voice in social exchanges–or, it could simply be because vampirism was also particularly intriguing to Vrisryn. Vampires had always seemed to them to be a new, potentially even superior form of being that tiptoed between nature’s lines of both life and death. They had been curious about the conditions and effects of vampirism since they first read about it long ago, and Astarion’s willingness to share with them had pushed aside their usual reluctance for conversation for the moment. However, Astarion’s tone had shifted apathetically and defensively at their probing. 

“What’s to tell? I was sired by a vampire named Cazador. Everything before that is so long ago it’s ancient history. And everything that came after? Well, I’d rather not reflect on it.”

“You must remember some part of your life before that?” Vrisryn questioned, unsatisfied with his lustlacker response.

“I was a magistrate, working to keep the peace in Baulder’s Gate. Imprisoning trouble makers– that kind of thing. I can’t remember much, truth be told. Centuries of torment will do that to you.”

Vrisryn had scoffed internally at the idea of this man as a judge; it was certainly believable given his attitude. Their judgment quickly resided though, as they related all too well to that last statement, and nodded once in response before continuing with their questions. 

“How were you turned?”

“I was attacked. A gang of vagrants-a tribe of wandering ‘Gur’— took issue with a ruling I’d made. They beat me to death’s door when Cazador appeared. He chased them off and offered to save me; to give me eternal life. Given that my choices were ‘eternal life’ or ‘bleed to death on the street’, I took him up on the offer.” 

Astarion looked down at the ground, his mind seeming to trail off somewhere else as he continued. 

“It was only afterwards I realized just how long ‘eternity’ could be.”

“Well,” Vrisryn responded somewhat uncomfortably. The air had turned a bit too vulnerable for their tastes now, and the bitterly sad expression on the pretty spawn left them feeling unsettled. 

“I appreciate your transparency. It, uh, may be best to keep this between us for now though, yeah? I had already figured that to be the case, but I don’t know how the others would react to the news of a vampire in our camp right now… everyone seems on edge tonight, and tomorrow will be even longer than today. We can discuss it more later; for now, let’s just focus on recharging.”

Vrisryn walked away without waiting for a response, eyes locked instead on the nearby bedroll and campfire awaiting them. However, just past the promise of reprieve, Lae’zel’s eyes burned disgruntled holes into Vrisryn’s person, causing them to shudder ever so slightly. There was no denying the gith’s menacing and intimidating aura. With another forlorn sigh, they moved towards the githyanki and prepared themselves for (hopefully) the last interaction of the evening. Vrisryn could already assume what the exchange would entail: complaints about the decision to make camp, an urging to hurry along to this crèche she kept mentioning, and a heavy dose of criticism over anything perceived to be unaligned with the githyanki’s desires.

“A monster forms inside us, and you think to be idle?” Lae’zel began to chide. “I knew your kind to be fragile, but I didn’t foresee the severity. Cease your chatter and be quick about your rest. We must locate a crèche.” “This crèche notion of yours - are you sure it’s our only option?”

“You would doubt me? I do not trust a common healer to extract a ghaik tadpole without killing its host. At a crèche, a ghustil may cleanse us - SAFELY.”

“Still,” Vrisryn countered, too tired to question what in the realms either a ghustil or crèche was.

“We’re hardly going to turn while taking a rest… are we?”

“The parasites inside us do not rest. Even as we speak, they defile our brains and warp our bones.” The strange, yellow-green irises paused for a moment, taking stock of the seemingly fragile elf in front of them before begrudgingly accepting that their alien companion indeed would need rest before they would be able to prove themselves to be of any further use to the githyanki. She flicked a hand as if to discard the thought from the air between them.

“Take your rest. I will stand watch. Should a single tentacle split your skull, I will not hesitate to end you.” Lae’zel retaliated. 

“Well, thank Ao for that.” Vrisryn muttered as they strode wearily towards the bedroll by the fire, settling into it and laying their cloak across them as a blanket. They were thankful to finally be alone with their thoughts as silence settles into the camp around them, leaving only the sounds of nature's ambience filling the cool night air.

At least no one has to worry about being bitten by the local oversized-mosquito tonight with Lae’zel keeping watch…

Vrisryn had anticipated restlessness and insomnia when they finally laid in the bedroll, especially with Lae’zel’s promise of taking watch resulting in a perpetual feeling of being watched by a predator among the rest of the camp. The druid had turned back and forth uncomfortably for hours, the tadpole exasperating the pain in their head. However, exhaustion had ultimately won over both their anxiety and the tension of their migraine. The conversations with their party had drained them far more than initially anticipated, and their body slipped easily into a meditative trance once the comfort of the campfire and stars moving by overhead lulled their eyelids shut. 

In their partially-awake state, the day’s events replayed themselves clearly and precisely. The disorientation and confusion upon awakening on the strange, fleshy nautiloid ship. The struggle to land the crashing monstrosity amongst devils, mind devourers, imps and illithids which they encountered alongside Shadowheart and Lae’zel. The intensity of the crash after; a mindflayer’s burning, hateful eyes the moment before they fell from the ship and were knocked unconscious; Shadowheart’s strange reluctance to share any information about the strange artifact she clung to. The exchange of finding Gale stuck in his portal, and the simple amusement that had stemmed from snarkily slapping his hand before helping him out of his portal; freeing Lae’zel from the tiefling’s trap, despite her refusal to thank them; exploring the abandoned temple on the hillside, and the fight with those who had taken hold within. Then, the experience of meeting Astarion.

Unbeknownst to Vrisryn, their enervation had caused them to slip into a full slumber by this point. While their mind replayed the event, their subconscious twisted from a mere trance into a full sleep as a dream subtly wrapped around their mind. 

“Hurry, I’ve got one of those brain-things cornered!” Astarion called out from the cliffside in their dreamstate. “There, in the grass. You can kill it, can’t you? Like you killed the others?”

“Kill it yourself - you look capable enough.” Vrisryn felt their lips form dryly, mouth parched and chapped from the dehydration and stress of the day, the scent and taste of smoke from the crash overpowering their other senses. They were still wounded from the last three “brain things” they had encountered in the ship below and didn’t feel particularly inclined to help any more stragglers along the road. They were hungry, thirsty, lost, and irritable, and had shrugged carelessly at the pale elf before they turned to continue along the path in the opposite direction. As they moved, they thought to themselves how the dirt looked suddenly and unnaturally fluid; strange. Different. Wrong… What’s happening?

“Oh, and I was so hoping for a kind soul. Well, not to worry!” Astarion spoke snidely. 

In a blink, Vrisryn felt a cold arm hook around their neck and yank them in a swift motion to the dirt alongside the stranger. They struggled against him with a grunt, head panging from the impact, and attempted to sit up as a dagger was pressed near their throat in retaliation of the movement. The rouge had used a knee to pin down their weight near their calf, locking them firmly and uncomfortably in his grasp. Vrisryn glared from under him nastily as they felt the same flash of panic overtake their whole body as it had earlier; this sensation was familiar, and while few would be calm with a blade pressed to their throat, Vrisryn had a uniquely personal reason to feel anxiety at the situation. The thought crossed their mind that this seemed far too vivid of a sensation for a normal trance, but before much more could be considered on a subject, they were pulled back to the dream.

They felt their head cloud with the sudden flashback to the last time they’d been in this situation; this was a stranger, but then, it was someone important. Someone close. A swell formed in their throat, which began to close around itself as their heartbeat quickened and a cold sweat broke across their flesh, body shifting into fight-or-flight. The slightest noise akin to a whimper left them as they struggled against him, attempting to roll out from underneath him quickly; but their movements were too frantic, too predictable. Astarion pressed them down more firmly with a hushed “Tsk!”, bringing his face closer against their lowered, pointed ear. 

“Shhh, not a word. Let’s try to keep that lovely neck of  yours in one piece, hmm?” He lulled, his breath and lips brushing ever so slightly above their ear.

“And YOU - keep your distance,” he spat towards Gale and Shadowheart, who were watching the events unfold with their hands atop their weapons. “No need for this to get messy.”

The events began to warp here; and deeper in Vrisryn’s subconscious, they felt the offputting sense that this was no longer simply a trance’s replication of their day, but rather something else entirely. If it had still been a trance, Shadowheart would have interjected here before Vrisryn inevitably headbutted the vampire off of their person and discussed things more civilly. Regardless, the subconscious awareness that this was not how the events had actually transpired did little to rouse Vrisryn from the distorted sleep. Instead, the pale elf in their mind nicked a part of Vrisryn’s neck, causing a pearl of blood to trickle down their throat as the features on the pretty elf’s face began to blur and morph unnaturally.

“Though, making a mess seems to be your specialty, darling. And to simply give you freedom is certainly more generous you’ve been towards others, isn’t it? Even death would be far too merciful for you, you wretched traitor.” 

Vrisryn’s heart sank as their eyes attempted to focus on the shifting presence over them; Astarion’s curled, white locks had changed shape, sprawling far past his shoulders, morphed and shifting to a familiar walnut shade; his red irises now became amber, and previously palled skin was tanned and peppered with freckles and thick, plush fur. The voice speaking to them had shifted as it spoke as well. It was familiar, but different – deep, loud, and certainly not Astarion’s.

Treolam, their mind cried in realization. Their dream self had formed the name around their mouth to speak it at the same time, but no noise came out with the movement. Wetness pricked at the inner corners of their eyes, and their blood ran cold.

“What could you possibly have to say to me, my sweet slaughterer; my corrosive consort! Come back to tell me how my elders were right about you and your allegiance!?” 

The apparition spoke harshly, but it sounded crude and particularly corrupt among the warm, playful, almost loving tone of the satyr’s voice. Tears began to spill from the druid’s eyes at the sight of him–in the dream as well as the waking world–and they struggled against the grasp atop them, reaching in an attempt to place a hand along the man’s bearded face to no avail. The pressure atop them was sharp and heady, and Vrisryn made a pathetic gasp as the blade cut a bit more into their neck, leaving little rivers of blood spilling from their skin. Suddenly, a thick ooze began to crawl across amber eyes above them in twisting, thorny patterns; first appearing as a bright-blue but then shifting to black, darkening them. A warped, wide smile was plastered on his otherwise pained expression. 

“I thought you wanted to see me again, Vris! Do you know the trouble I went through to find you here? Amuremsis bet me I couldn’t find you again, and I bet you thought you lost me again, huh? Oh, little love, I told you before! So long as the fey runs wild, I will always be able to find a way back to you.” 

Vrisryn choked at the reminder of these words; the precious and private promise he had sworn them in their youth was now being twisted and contorted in a foul meaning by this apparition. Yet, it felt so real; he felt so real. Vrisryn could smell the woody musk of him, feel the wirey yet plush fluffs of fur on his arms, limbs and torso against their flesh, see every freckle and callous against his leathery skin. Their heart ached to hold him, to kiss him, even in spite of his cruel words and the blade against their throat. 

“Treolam, I–”

“Shhh shshsh, you have to listen, little lamb, NO SPEAKING,” he interrupted, dropping the blade in favor to wrap both his hands around Vrisryn’s neck in a chokehold that silenced them with a whimper. The placement of his grip threatened to block and even crush their airways completely, lest they remain still where they laid in the crook of the satyr’s elbow. 

“It’s so important you follow these instructions! You don’t want to lose me again, do you? You still want and trust me, DON’T YOU?” 

The entirety of his eyes had glazed over with a slick blackness now; tears of blood streamed down his face and dripped along Vrisryn’s cheek as he placed himself directly atop them, pinning them fully into the earth beneath them, which had become the consistency of a thick fluid and sank beneath their weight. It had the same sensation of sinking into mud or quicksand. He removed one hand which now was smeared in Vrisryn’s blood, replacing it with the dagger once more before issuing his commandments.

“You can never forget me, you can never forget what you did. YOU killed us, all of us! You left me, and you failed to protect anything you loved. You always will, you know this. STOP LYING TO YOURSELF THAT IT WAS OUT OF YOUR CONTROL! You killed us all–your kin, your clan, your home. You broke us! You destroyed us! You ABANDONED us! You let me and Amuremsis go–you should never forgive yourself for what happened. You can never escape this. We will haunt you fore-”

Suddenly, the crackle of a firelog buckling into the embers of the dying fire back in reality jolted Vrisryn from their slumber. Their eyes shot open, and for a second they remained still and rigid, as if the apparition from the dream still had them in his chokehold. Cold air highlighted the wet tears streaking their cheeks, and their chest moved with heavy, short breaths. After just a moment they realized that it had been a nightmare, and their hands shot towards the sides of their head frantically; feeling for the all-too-familiar halo of the static, icy sensation which they’d come to associate with the activation of their spellscar. Their fingers met only flesh though, and they exhaled the breath they had subconsciously held with relief before glancing around camp to get their bearings. Lae’zel was still up, keeping watch as promised, though she had been turned towards the surrounding woods rather than towards the party at the moment. No one else was awake yet. 

Luck is on my side tonight, they thought. 

They couldn’t have rested for more than three hours. Typically, they would want to trance for another hour or two to feel fully rested–but despite the nightmare which always accompanied their body’s affliction with sleep, they found themselves fully awake. Their migraine had faded to a dull, hazy feeling, which was uncomfortable but bearable. Their body still felt heavy, though Vrisryn felt that had far more to do with their nerves about being in the company of others and the tadpoles in their head than anything else. The others were still asleep, and based on the coloring of the sky and the stars’ placements, dawn was not far off–two hours at most.

Regardless, Vrisryn knew rest of any sort would be lost to them now, and they opted instead to take this chance for some well-deserved solitude before their companions awoke and their adventure began once again. Pulling the sack of camp supplies close, they reached for another log to add to the dwindling fire, as well as some bread and cheese to curb their appetite. They wiped the remnants of the nightmare induced cold sweat off with their shirt before switching back into their armour and walking to where Lae’zel stood watch. 

“Do githyanki not need sleep? I can watch until everyone else is up, if you want to rest a little.” Vrisryn offered genuinely, their raspy voice morphing into a yawn at the end of the question. Though it was extremely subtle, Vrisryn could detect the faintest expression of exhaustion on Lae’zel. 

“Tch’! There is no need for rest in the astral plane–sleep is considered a triviality in a realm where time ceases to exist.“ A small sigh escaped her mouth after the claim, giving proof to her own exhaustion.

"Though I admit that it seems my body will need sleep in this Fay-run. I accept your offer; but do not think me to be vulnerable. Even in sleep, I shall wake to tear you from navel to neck should you provoke such a need.”

“I don’t think anyone here wishes to raise your ire, Lae’zel. Go - rest. I’ll just be scouting the area nearby.” The druid shifted into wild shape before Lae'zel could respond, assuming the form of a red-coated wolf.

Lae’zel had looked befuddled for a moment, and Vrisryn considered that they may have never witnessed someone use wild shape before. Regardless, she walked away with another “Tch,” before settling into a bedroll within her tent. Vrisryn was starting to become more and more unbothered by the githyanki’s mannerisms and threats, figuring it was just the only way that she knew how to communicate. She was not the first gith Vrisryn had encountered, and what little Vrisryn could recall of the Githyanki’s alien culture was not for the weak of heart or stomach. The others the druid had met first hand were far more provokable and venomous than Lae’zel seemed, at least. 

It would be unfair to expect their companion to be anything but what they are. As they had told Shadowheart at the start of this, dangerous company was exactly what you needed in a fight – and Vrisryn had no qualms with the blunt or brutal nature of their companion, given what they appeared to be up against. It would just take time to grow accustomed to such aggressive reception, especially during such early hours. 

The elf turned their attention now to their surroundings, sniffing the air in their new form. The heightened senses from the wolf-shape flooded their mind with various sensations and impulses. No danger, though; nothing but prey. The instinct of their wolf form took over, and the higher parts of their mind figured they’d earned some down time to enjoy the canine form. It was comforting to be in wild shape, blending into nature fully and thoughts of tadpoles, illithids, healers, and the uncertain road ahead blurring as a new purpose took over: a hunt. The wolf was easy to be lost to, and Vrisryn particularly favored this form when they felt the urge to run. 

It was the perfect form to take for this morning, where the need to vacate their current surroundings and the company inhabiting it had itched as uncomfortably under their skin as the tadpole did from behind their eye. Even in wild shape, they could feel it; though, the instinctual pull towards the hares, boar, and deer inhabiting the woods around the camp and the hunger in their stomach helped to detach from the sensation and its accompanying thoughts. Wide, heavy paws hit the ground in a full sprint and hot air panted from the canines mouth. A flood of scent washed in, and in spite of the worries that Vrisryn hosted, the wolf version of them hopped around delightedly, a playfulness taking over the form they now inhabited.

The druid spent the next hour and a half hunting in the woods surrounding the camp; though, they released each prey they caught. They felt no hunger for food, only for relief this morning. In wolf form, it was easy to let worry melt away and enjoy the innately optimistic nature it offered. They had nearly lost track of time frolicking with a fawn when they noticed the orange sunlight creeping halfway up the horizon. With a whine and a yawn, they shook their thick coat and stretched their form lazily. They allowed themselves a quick roll in the dirt, and after a few playful sneezes as well as a friendly nuzzle against the fawn they'd been playing hide-and-seek with, they began their trek towards camp. For the first time since they'd embarked that morning, they took their time walking along the woods.

Everyone back at camp had woken and began packing their belongings, eating, and bickering once more. Vrisryn's wolf-heart panged with an urge to run away, to return to the solitude and comfort of the woods nearby; but their higher logic still won in spite of it. As they returned towards their belongings, Shadowheart caught sight of them first; and to Vrisryn's surprise, the cleric gasped, grasping at one of her hands suddenly and looking utterly... frightened.

Granted, Vrisryn did forget that not everyone was used to wild animals just walking up on them. They shook themselves out of the wild shape, lifting themselves from the dirt and brushing off the debris before locking eyes with a now very-relieved Shadowheart.

"Sorry - I forgot you hadn't seen me in that form yet. I always forget that most people are intimidated by the presence of wild animals," they contended.

Shadowheart threw her gaze up and to the side, thick plaits swaying behind her shoulder with the movement as she scowled.

"It's fine, though I almost sent an arrow your direction. Best warn me next time you intend to take such a form."

Vrisryn nodded, and moved towards their bag to organize their supplies for the day and begin planning what direction they would embark in next. Lae'zel was rushing them each to hurry up, and Astarion was complaining loudly about having to start traveling so early. Gale was barely awake yet, sleepily munching on food and seemingly tuning out all else.

It appeared it was going to be a long day indeed.

to be continued...

[fangirl-dot-com]

Incorrect Quotes

all of these were from Pinterest - cause I'm not this funny (I also couldn't wait for the next chapter to come out so here :D)

Like always comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are appreciated <3

TAG LIST IS OPEN! - 26 spots still open! (please send me a direct message to be added!)

Y/n: I’m cool Oscar  Y/n: I’m THEE coolest  Y/n: In fact, I was once arrested for being too cool *puts on sunglasses*  Oscar: The charges were dropped because there was no supporting evidence. Also, your glasses are upside down. 

Y/n: I have a very specific type  Max: Oh yeah? Like what?  Y/n: Y’know…polite, handsome, athletic…that sort of thing  Arthur (on his fourth energy drink of the day) tripping over camera wires and holding his mic upside down: you little shit eating, damned pathetic piece of shit – now you listen here  Y/n: *heart eyes* that one. I want that one.  Max: *flabbergasted* 

Lando: bet you’re standing in the corner because you’re scared that you’ll get turned down if you talk to anyone  Y/n: please, I could fluster near everyone at this party if I chose to  Oscar: oh yeah? Prove it. Go for someone borderline impossible and I’ll believe you Y/n, approaching Arthur: hey dumbass, hoodie looks kind of cute on you, wanna get out of here?  Arthur: WH- I MEAN- UHHHH YEAH SURE  Y/n: perfect  Oscar and Lando: 

Y/n: I brought a red bull  Max: I don’t want a red bull Y/n: I didn’t bring this for you. This is my red bull. Max: then why are you telling me?  Y/n: It’s a conversation starter.  Max: That’s a lousy conversation starter  Y/n: Oh, is it? We are conversing. Checkmate *sips red bull* 

Y/n: *gently taps table*  Logan: *taps back*  Alex: what are they doing?  George: morse code Y/n: *aggressively taps table*  Logan: *slams hands down* YOU TAKE THAT BACK- 

Lewis: Treat spiders the way you want to be treated  Y/n: Killed without hesitation  Lewis: nO!

Y/n: Is stabbing someone immoral?  Mitch: Not if they consent to it.  Max: Depends on who you’re stabbing.  Christian: YES?! 

Cop: You’re receiving a ticket for having three people on one motorcycle.  Y/n: Shit  Logan: Wait, three?  Cop: yeah? Lando: OH MY GOSH OSCAR FELL OFF!! 

Max: Time for plan G.  Liam: Don’t you mean plan B?  Daniel: No, we tried plan B a long time ago. I had to skip over plan C due to technical difficulties.  Y/n: What about plan D?  Daniel: Plan D was that desperate disguise attempt half an hour ago.  Max: What about plan E?  Liam: I’m hoping not to use it. I die in plan E  Yuki: I like plan E. 

Christian: Did none of you think this was a bad idea?  *Y/n, Max, Charles, and Arthur covered in navy and red paint*  Y/n: Oh no, we all did. We just decided to do it anyway. 

George: (in sunglasses and newest Tommy Hilfiger jumpsuit) *in the most posh accent* I’m too good for revenge  Logan: (covered in bug spray, cowboy hat and overalls on, pumped full of Bang energy drink and high on freedom) *cocks shotgun* Well, I’m not. Give me the name. 

Arthur: So what’s your type?  Y/n: Kinda long blond hair, green eyes, dumb, dimples, funny, really thin waist  Arthur: Huh, that kind of sounds like me! Too bad its not me! Y/n: did I mention dumb?  Arthur: yeah, why?  Y/n: just making sure 

*Over Text* 

Y/n: Hey pretty boy, what’re you up to? :) Arthur: Eating cereal in bed  Y/n: And what would you be doing if I was in bed with you?  Arthur:…I would still be eating my cereal? 

Waitress: And what would you like to eat?  Y/n: I wish to devour the unborn  Fernando: Eggs, she would like eggs 

Y/n: Do you think that when sheep go to sleep they count themselves?  Lando: Or do they count humans?  Y/n: Ooo, that’s a good question  Oscar: GO TO SLEEP 

Y/n to Max: because I am a mature adult  *turns to see Mitch, Christian, and Vito shake their heads*  *turns back to Max*  Y/n: I am an adult 

*Dinner with Max, Y/n, Charles, and Arthur* 

Y/n: The food is too cute, I can’t eat it!  Max:  Charles:  Arthur: You’re cute, but I’d still eat y- Max: ONE DINNER  Charles: *sighs* here we go again  Max: ONE NORMAL DINNER IS ALL I ASK  Y/n: Charles, this pasta is also crunchy, I truly can’t eat this 

Ollie: Good night everyone  Arthur: Good night  Lando: Good night  Oscar: Good night  Y/n: good night. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite. Tonight, imma fight until we see the sunlight. Tik tok on the clock, but the party don’t stop  Oscar: I’M DONE

George (t-posing in the doorway): Greetings, parental figures and sister figure  *Y/n, Lewis, and Toto walking past*  Toto (not looking up from his coffee): Good morning, problem child 

Christian: You see, Fernando, Y/n is at the age where she only has one thing on her mind  Fernando (noticeably excited): Oh! Oh! Oh! Boys?  Max (looking over at the dead tired rookie with revenge in her eyes as she looks at Esteban): No. Murder. 

Y/n: Hey Liam, want some of this food?  Liam: Sure, thanks!  Yuki (storming in with the anger of the gods): WHO TF ATE MY LEFTOVERS THAT CLEARLY HAD MY NAME ON IT  Y/n: WE did  Liam: You surprisingly smart little mf

Y/n: Never have I ever…Been grounded by my parents!  Arthur (exasperated): Every time. She makes disownment jokes every time and she always wins  Max: Good one Kid. I always go for the ‘never had a dad who supported me.’ Charles: *stands up and walks away* 

Y/n: I’ve only said I love you to four people. Christian, Vito, Arthur, and Max when I thought he died after he wouldn’t respond after a DNF. I only regret one of those  Lando: Which one?  Y/n: Max. He was just pressing the wrong button and walked out a few minutes later. He made me look like an idiot.  Max: I let you win next race   Y/n: still

(Y/n, Logan, Lando, and George trying to sneak into RB for more energy drinks after being banned from drinking more) 

Logan: So what do you think Y/n will do as a distraction? Lando: She’ll probably, like, make a noise  George: Or throw a rock. That’s what I would do  *The door flings open and smoke follows. Screams of mechanics fill the air as they try to extinguish a small fire*  Logan:…Or she could do that. 

Y/n: When I die, donate my entire body to science  Y/n: Except my middle finger, give that to Esteban 

(max and y/n in a horror movie) 

Max: QUICK YOU’RE LOSING A LOT OF BLOOD. WHAT’S YOUR TYPE?  Y/n (bleeding out): tall, male, brown hair, dimples, caring, supportive, Monegasque Max: BLOOD TYPE DUMBASS  Y/n: oh  Y/n: (looks down at wound)  Y/n: red 

Lando: I wish we could block people in real life.  Oscar: Restraining order  Y/n: Murder 

Christian: Y/n, we need to talk about your professionalism for media days  Y/n (and a lot of media personelle she rounded up, all standing on chairs): those are some mighty brave words for someone standing in lava 

Y/n (to Max while hiding behind some tires – regretting everything): and then I called him dad  Christian (to Geri – trying not to cry while cameras are everywhere): and then she called me dad 

Max: Christian, look what Y/n got me for father’s day *holds up generic #1 dad mug*  Christian (glaring silently while sipping from his own #1 dad mug)  Max: that lying rookie Vito (holding a worn down #1 dad mug): you guys are late to the party suckers 

Criminals: We have your daughter and son  Toto: I don’t have a daughter and Jack is right here Criminals: then who just asked for warm milk and made us cut the crusts off their sandwiches?  Christian: dear God, you have Y/n and George

 

Mitch: So Christian, you and Geri want to be a parents again someday?  Christian: Someday? We’re parents right now.  Mitch: Y/n is your employee Geri: She is our BLOOD 

Christian: Max is late again  Kelly: I woke him up at 8 and pretended it was 11 Y/n: I wrote a fake schedule saying we were starting at 9 instead of 12 Lando: I changed his clock from AM to PM  Christian: I think you may have overdone it  Max (bursting into the garage): WHAT YEAR IS IT? 

Y/n: If I blended Red Bull, five hour energy, monster, coffee, and hot Cheetos into an energy smoothie...would it kill me? Logan: *shrugs* only if you die Y/n (getting out the blender): you're so smart Logan Max (running into the room): y/N STOP!

Lance: I got Netflix like you asked! Y/n: OH that's amazing! I've been mooching off Max's and Arthur's accounts for a while. This will be nice! Lance: Wait, what do you mean accounts? Y/n: Their Netflix accounts? Lance: Y/n: Like their profiles? I wanted one of my own, they're like $12 Lance: Lance:....Oh....You meant the account on the service... Y/n: Yeah, what did you think I meant? Wait...What did you buy? Lance: Lance:....Netflix...

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12

[thepeonysbackup]

◇Dry Humping◇

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Summary: Gumbo, a soup that brings out more then just the taste of its ingredients, but desire from within from a source only taste can trigger. A broth that acts as a honey sculpted cup that holds the aphrodisiac to the minds most fondest of memories. Affection. That is its purest name.

Tags: Mdni, boring plot, dub con (She ultimately enjoys it), dry humping, something I came up with on the spot.

Word count: 2.2k (not proofread)

Request: Yes/No

Part two at: 600 notes!🎉

As you stirred the ladel within the large deep pot from your place at the stove, atop your stool with your apron. You gently leaned over the pot as steam rose, inhaling the heated air so you could smell your progress, it was daring to graze the mark of heavenly, much to your excitement as you shifted to finish chopping up the vegetables that were set up on a chopping board on the off side of the stove as the radio played soft jazz in the background.

Being the kind and sweet little vixen you were, you thought you'd do the hotel a favor by cooking the rest of the staff a meal. Taking care to check on the individuals before you went all in on your choice. Angel wanted Asian food, claiming that he'd seen one of the girls at his work snacking on rice balls and wanted some too. Husk said he'd been craving seafood, groaning about how none of the places near the hotel had anything good to sell. Vaggie was bias, 'okay with whatever was cooking in your noggin' in her own words while Charlie urged you to surprise her with excited squeal. Nifty had ended up finding you before you could her, and then handed you a bag of maggots that were still very much alive and asked for a paste. Creepy, but you said okay before actually thinking it through. Pentious had taken a rather long while of thinking before he settled on soup, he wanted a tomato soup. That left you puzzled at what you could possibly make for everyone to equally enjoy, because fusing palletts with rices and seafood was a breeze, but adding a soup into the mix? Oh dear, your idea was becoming difficult to come into flourishan as you trekked down the halls of the hotel to locate the facility manager and overlord whom was currently residing in his pocket dimension like room, which never seemed to stay in a singular one of them, but shift everytime he wanted it moved. So it was a game of chance, knocking on every door you knew as vacant before finally having one opened by the smiling radio demon. He held his cane in the same hand that he had for the door, the other arm folded behind him as he tilted his head to the right in question down at you. "A meal, you say? My, I was going out this evening but I must ask what it is!" He had enthusiastically voiced through his static, but when you said you hadn't decided yet because of how different everyone's cravings were he seemed interested in also giving an option to you. "You always choose Jambalaya, why not another meal?" You complained while thinking of what you could do with all these choices. "I'm afraid it's Jambalaya, my dear. Unless you have any access to some truly delicious venison!" He chuckled out, lightly twirling his cane in his hand as he tapped it on the ground so he could lean his chin on the handle. This was so unfair, what could you possibly make that would—

"Wait, Jambalaya- Jambalaya, Cajun‐ Cajun means that rice, shrimp and- Yes, wait, hold on- Soup- Tomatoes- Vegetables and add extra meat like chicken and venison—" You babbled quickly aloud, drawing Alastors attention a bit more. He cocked a brow at you, lips thinning out as he grinned at your unintelligible banter, "My Dear, you must speak up. I simply can't understand anything when you mumble." He straightened himself up so he could examine his nails as you let out an excited noise, in all fairness it was so sudden that he had every right to tense up as you grabbed his arms suddenly in a tight grasp so you could pull him towards you, "You're a Genius Al, thank you!" You beamed, bouncyness following your stride as you began to quickly make your way back down the hallway to the stairs after letting him go like you hadn't even realized that his static was buzzing like a hornet around the two of you. You were something alright.

As you had just finished throwing the rest of the vegetables into the pot, you pulled out the spices from the lazy susan on the counter, choosing the more mild spices and only about four drops of tabasco before the basil and parsley were dashed in on top. Now the lid was placed, holding in the mouth watering scents that were to come later when they were ready. The music continued, your figure bopping gently around the kitchen as you began to get the plates ready with the rice, plopping large scoops into the bowls so you could hallow them out by pressed them inward with the bottom of the ladel you were using. At the bottom of each of the rice bowls you'd made, you added thoroughly cooked slices of venison to everyone's except Al's and Niftys. Those two were getting their own special snacks added in, the maniacs. Al's bowl got raw, uncooked deer meat at the bottom instead that and a few on a plate below his bowl that had the maggot paste for the side dip. Niftys maggot paste was poured into her bowl and topped with raw shrimp and then the cooked venison. After all of them were prepped, you picked up a rag and wiped your forehead because all you had to do was wait just a bit longer.

"Ah, so you're really cooking. I would have assumed the hotel would be in flames if anyone else were to take a chance in this room, of course Nifty can make some delicious demon spik."

"Haha, very funny Al." Your back was facing the radio demon, ears on alert as his footsteps slowly but casually drew him over to your bubbling pot, inhaling while lightly using his hand to bring the scent of the steam rising from the sides of the lid. He made a delighted noise, static almost completely gone as his claws grasped the handle of the lid and tugged it off, steam bursting upwards to show the contents within. “Well, this sure isn't Jambalaya but by good golly it's gumbo! How clever of you, little darling!” He spoke loudly, amused and seemingly with a truly gleeful smile on his face as his other hand grabbed your waist to pull you near him as he examined your work, nose catching whiff of a different scent near as well. “And if my nose doesn't deceive me," He inhaled deeply near your ear, nose just barely grazing your cheek as he leaned further up until his head was resting above yours, using his height to allow himself to break character for a moment, his eyes turning wide with dials fixed in the center as blood stains began to run down his chin from how hard he was grinning,

"₮Ⱨ₳₮ ĐɆⱠɆ₵₮₳฿ⱠɆ ₴₵Ɇ₦₮ ł₴ VɆ₦ł₴Ø₦.."

The harsh sound of his static made you wince, body tensed further, “Yes, I thought it would be a nice addition, the meats flavor is a bit different and so when you eat it with the broth i-it tastes mildly spicier then without it.” His voice buzzed, a satisfied noise leaving him as he side stepped around you, now back to his normal cheery grin as he took hold of one of the raw slabs of venison and dangled it above his mouth before slowly opening his jaws like a snake threatening to attack. Then, with a swift move, he clamped down on the thin piece of meat and tore it out of his hand in a single whip of her head to the side. “Truly a marvelous snack you've provided here, darling doe.” His nicknames were slowly progressing to more dearing comparisons, making you flush as you lifted you ladel and placed it back into the pot to stir it, but not before you climbed back onto your stool to do so.

-

Time went by as you cooked, Alastor remaining hovering with his quiet buzz of static as he enjoyed the meat that you had to offer, the fact that you had taken so much time just to get everything you had needed for him making him feel as though he was more important, even if you were making dinner for everyone. His eyes held true to your figure, that smile that forever kept its place on his face widening as he slowly lost himself in thought as he observed your lips lightly shy away from the utensil you'd pulled from the hot boil to get a taste of the broth, the contents being too hot to consume so suddenly before you blew on it. He reveled in the way you moaned at the creamy liquid, eyes shutting blissfully as a hand came to cover your lips like it would hide the long trickle of the broth from his sight. No, he saw it, and how he craved to be the very thing that would lick the taste off you, the tongue that would replace your own that darted so quickly out to take the drop for itself. That, nostalgic.. that warm and soft, dare he say heavenly taste from your lips, from your tongue. Alastors static began to grow in volume, his body inching closer to yours on the stool as he felt a growing pain from below at your half bent over form over the stovetop. “Do you often leave yourself so openly vulnerable to just anybody.. or… Am I just lucky?” He asked, suddenly right against your ear from behind, both hands atop each of yours as his physique pressed you into the dangerously hot Kitchenware. “What?-” You had asked, bewildered at the sudden change in atmosphere the room was in just moments ago. 

Alastor hadn't really heard you, ears pressing back into his head as he pressed his crotch against the plush softness of your ruffled skirt, lightly moving the fabric of his bulge against your rear in slow rolls of his hips. It was sudden, hesitant almost, as if Al hadn't been planning for this to happen whatsoever. “I asked you a question, hmpf- d-dearest..” He hushed against the back of your neck, nipping it with his teeth with a hiss, his hands that had yours pinned down gripping harder to keep you in place as the stretchy fabric of your skirt rode up on your ass at the force used in his motions. The friction had you boggled in the brain, a few noises of concerned pleasure rising up into your throat as you thought hard about his question. “Ahn- N—no-..” She answered, earning a tut from the overlord behind her, the fabric of your panties were getting bunched up and pulled down about half way, “That's not a proper answer, now is it Mon Cher?” A little cry escaped you, the feeling of his pants rough texture against your soft petals making tears of overstimulation well in your big doe eyes. “I-I— I don't know- I can't- Ouu- Fuck!-” Alastor hushed you, a hand freeing one of yours so his could trail up to your neck so it could wrap around it in a firm grip. Your pretty face being cranned upwards and back so he could see the fucked out blissful expression on your face as your own hand reeled back to hold fast against his hip, a last attempt to push him away being futile as his movements became more spurred by you noises, faster and faster. "Such vulgarity," He groaned into your ear, breath hot and growling excitedly, "Speak again, speak to me. Tell me how you crave more, Mon Cher-" Your voice called to him, his name slipping past your lips like a hymn, a lament, a song.

Oh, how he adored your voice, strained and laced with need.

How he desired more as the coil in his mind snapped, antlers growing in size as he hunched over and into your back, head lightly using you as stability while his demonic form grew, long arms and gnarly claws digging into your clothes enough to tear the flesh, not only fabric. The dials of his eyes spun, his legs buckling as your bare cunts juices flowed lazily down his front, the warmth he felt as he released as well pulling a guttural growl from his throat as the both of you eased into a slower more controlled pace.

This hadn't gone as planned, but he sure as hell wasn't complaining.

[runningfrom2am]

Hi, how’s your day been going? Hoping it was amazing. I just saw your post about needing inspo for Coriolanus fics! I’m not sure if you are taking requests but if you are Could you maybe do a touch-starved Coryo fic? Something fluffy/angsty where Coryo can finally fulfill those needs and be himself and vulnerable with the reader. Thanks!

as long as you need me - c.s

pairing: coryo x fem!reader

wc: 1.7k

tags/warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, he just needs you and you just want to help.

requests (currently closed- feel free to send whatever but it will be a while before I get to them!)

nav / coriolanus snow masterlist

a/n: ahhh thank you for sending this in! it was so fun to write like stopppp i just want to give him a hug omg. also thought i'd post this to hold y'all off until i post the next part of LTPF. anyway, enjoy!

You had a very stable grasp of the limits of your relationship. What was appropriate, and what was not. You were quite shy, and Coryo always carried himself with a high level of decorum. You would eat together at lunch, and he would walk you home most days. The weekends, your study dates, were always your favourite. He was significantly more relaxed, but you could still tell he was just a little tightly wound. By now, you've just learned that's who he is. Not overly affectionate, but he cares for you and you care for him. 

"I can't stay late today, I'm sorry." You said, genuinely feeling bad for having to turn down the request. In your junior year, you started tutoring for younger grades at the academy and it is something you thoroughly enjoyed.

"I have a test tomorrow! Why can't you stay? Just for a few minutes- I just have a couple of questions." The first year, Aelia whined.

"My boyfriend is supposed to walk me home and he has a tight schedule, but I'll tell you what, I can meet you in the library in the morning before class. That way it will still be fresh in your mind, yeah?" You grinned, and she seemed satisfied as you agreed on a time, not knowing that a few of the girls in your grade were listening in.

"Y/N," Clemensia decided to approach you as Aelia walked off, Arachne and Livia following close behind. "Did I catch you telling someone that you have a boyfriend? Did I hear that right?"

"Oh, well, yes." You answered sheepishly, gathering your things to put in your bag before your next class.

"Really?" Livia chimed in, and you just nodded. "Okay, well, spill. Who is it? Do I know him?"

"Um..." You looked around, deciding what to say. You weren't necessarily keeping it a secret, but you just hadn't felt the need to tell anyone you went to school with. "It's Coriolanus. Snow." You cleared your throat, unsure why you even added his last name. It's not like the name Coriolanus was abundantly common.

"Shut up." Clemensia laughed slightly, eyes widening at you. "You're joking, right?"

"No... We've been together for almost seven months now."

"I just... wow. We had no idea. Seven months! I feel like I've never seen the two of you get closer than two feet apart." You weren't sure whether to interpret this response as teasing or genuine shock- so you just gave them an awkward smile and a small nod before walking away.

At the time, you had never considered how your lack of affection in public could be confusing to people- not that it mattered. Rumors had spread quickly after that, which was to be expected when Livia and Arachne were involved. However, PDA just wasn't your thing. General displays of affection weren't really your thing, either. Both of you always had a lot going on, and having been together for almost a year by now, you knew that you loved him and he loved you. You didn't have to prove it to each other or to anyone, there was no pressure for anything to change. On your end, anyway.

Coryo, on the other hand, was feeling something shift. Leading up to the reaping and more importantly, to the prize. You both were in the running, being in the top twenty-four of your class, and you had no doubt that Coryo was a shoo-in, but you didn't know how extremely anxious it was making him. The now constant thrumming of his heartbeat in his chest and his shaky hands were always less around you, and he can only dream of how much better it would be if he could just hold you.

These days, he'd wake up expecting you in his arms due to a particularly calming dream only to be disappointed. He respected you a great amount and wouldn't want to push your boundaries, however unspoken. Still, he wasn't sure how much longer he could go about his day-to-day without testing his theory that holding you could cure his fears, or at least let him forget about them for only a moment. He would happily take just a second of peace.

Coriolanus usually greeted you outside of your unshared classes, seeing that you tended to stay a few minutes late to ask questions or polish off your notes. He couldn't wait to see you, he needed to.

"Coryo." You smile, walking out of your lecture hall to see him waiting.

"Hi, Love. How was class?" Your boyfriend greets you, joining you on your walk towards the exit of the school.

"It was good. Though, I find the topic of the rebellion kind of redundant at this point." You say, books tucked against your chest under folded arms. "Is it not too soon to discuss it in a history class? I mean, I literally remember what it was like to live in a bomb shelter."

Your joke seemingly lands on deaf ears as he just hums, placing a hand on your lower back to guide you out of the building. This wasn't totally unusual, but with the way he was pushing you, albeit gently, was telling you that something was wrong.

"Is everything okay?" You ask him, looking up at the boy next to you as you reach the bottom of the academy's front steps.

"Fine." Coryo nods, attempting a reassuring smile that he isn't aware falls short.

"Okay, well... If you want to talk about anything, I'm here for you, you know. Always."

"I know. Thank you, Love." He drops his hand from your back to hold your free one, turning in the direction of your apartment.

The next afternoon, you're in the same class, one of the rare ones you don't share with Coryo, taking down notes from the lecture when there's a knock on the door, followed by it creaking open. You pay no mind, taking the opportunity to catch up on everything written on the board.

"May I borrow Y/N, please?" Your boyfriend's voice is scratchy and shakey in a way unfamiliar sounding to you, making your head snap up. You'd never seen him cry before. "Only for a moment."

Your teacher dismisses you, likely on account of your and Coriolanus's mutually spotless records and his red-rimmed eyes. Clearly, you were needed urgently. You leave your bag and your books, ignoring the whistles and heckling of some of your classmates as you rush to the door.

Coryo had reached his breaking point. He was writing his third paper of the week, unable to focus on that and get his mind off of how unlikely it was he would get the prize if the Dean had any say. Sitting in the library, the world had started turning around him. People were talking, laughing, even, and he couldn't take it anymore. The floodgates opened and he had rushed out of the room. He couldn't go home, his attendance would be affected and he'd be throwing away the prize most definitely. He had nowhere to go, except for to you.

You close the door behind yourself, thankful that the hallway is completely deserted during class time. "Hey, what's going on?" You ask, and before you can get a good look at him he's pulling you into a crushing hug, shaking around you.

You're shocked for a moment, pulling yourself out of your head to hug him back. Whatever is bothering him must be bad. He'd hugged you before, but never like this. "Hey, it's okay..." You whisper, rubbing his back. "Let's go outside for a second, yeah? Get some air?" You offer, gently prying yourself from his grasp to look at him.

Coryo can't speak, overtaken completely by the tears flowing down his cheeks and the anxiety flooding every inch of his body. He feels like he could be sick, all he knew that he needed was you. He just nods, trying to regain his composure, if only for the couple of minutes it takes to get outside.

"Okay. Let's go." You smile, trying not to show how worried you are as you wrap an arm around his back, still holding him close to you as if he has a broken ankle and you have to carry him. So far, his theory was proving to be correct. Just having you at his side was calming to him, and mentally he's cursing himself for not voicing his fears to you before they broke him.

As soon as the door of the rarely used back exit to the school is closed, he's essentially collapsing onto the ground, tucking his knees up to his chest and crying into his hands. You're quick to join him, draping an arm over his back and trying to grab one of his hands to hold. Your brow is knit with worry, rubbing his shoulder as he allows you to take one of his shaking hands. "Coryo..." You say softly, trying to get him to look at you but he won't. "What's happening? Talk to me, you can trust me. I just want to help."

He sniffles, looking up at you. "What is it?" You ask again, hoping to prompt any kind of information out of him. When he doesn't answer, you curve your approach to yes or no questions, hopefully, to make it easier on him. "Is someone hurt? Is it Grandma'am? Did something happen?"

He shakes his head slightly with every question, once again avoiding your eyes as he looks down at the ground, occasionally trying to cough out the knot in his throat.

"...Do you want to talk? Or do you just need a hug?" You realize, leaning in so he would look at you again.

He pulls you closer, wrapping both his arms around you awkwardly due to the way you are both sitting. "Just need you here." He mumbles, hardly audible as he buries his face in your shoulder and neck.

Relieved to hear his voice again, you place a hand on his hair and on his back, holding him tight. "I'm here, Coryo. As long as you need me."

taglist: @keziahcore, @soulessjourney, @kitscutie, @annaelise, @serrendiipty, @fratboyharrysgf0201, @totallynotkaibiased, @stelleduarte, @klplynn, @secretsicanthideanymore, @bejeweledreverie, @fals3-g0d, @gloryekaterina, @andrewgarfieldsbitch, @queenofspades6, @pepperonipastas, @ladybug0095, @lunamothwrites, @sbrewer21, @mus-tbe-a-weasley, @splxtscreen, @unclecrunkle, @karmaswitch, @rororo06, @coconut-dreamz, @nekee-lilac02, @ooooglymoooogly, @slytherinholland, @riddlerloveb0t, @lovedbalances, @notyourwildestdream, @snowlandson-top, @too-lit-for-fanfic, @utopiakys, @deafeningballoonnacho, @darlingisntit, @roosterschanelslut, @chmpgneprblem, @cosmoetik, @lauravanderbooben20, @dry0campa, @luclue, @lokidala, @urvampgfsworld, @carolanns-world, 

[httpsserene]

𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝟏 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝟑: 𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: your boyfriend has to make an appearance at some sponsor event. he's gone ahead and bought you an alluring outfit, but he failed to mention how seductive he looks in the new fitted suit his team got him. you two won't be staying long, but you increase the pace by riling him up, mostly unintentionally. so it's your fault that he makes you ruin his loaned mclaren. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. squirting. car sex. semi-public sex. ooc (out-of-character) oscar. overstimulation. mild possessive behavior. mild jealousy. vaginal fingering. vaginal sex. condom usage. the audacity of men. lando norris’ savior complex /jk. author’s overuse of italics and run-on sentences. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5k words 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: water • tyla

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: what can i say, y'all. back at it with the unhinged thirst. every time i do one of these, they've been getting shorter and shorter. don't be afraid, for #4 (dr/mv) i'll be back on my game, they deserve it. yes gremlin lando appearance. also, i cannot imagine oscar ever acting this way, that's why i put the ooc tag? it's definitely a fun read tho (i think), along with the smut! thank you, loves, for the support on this event!

want to be added to my general taglist? or my f1 kinktober taglist? send me an ask!

thank you to my betas! @biancathecool for helping with my grammer and @barnestatic for her wonderful spoiled brat idea :))))

cross-posted on my ao3, httpsss

if you want to look at what i'm planning for ktober, or catch up on previous uploads here's my f1 kinktober masterlist and my general masterlist for all of my works!

oscar is known for his unfazed, composed and collected demeanor. he’s aware that some people say he has no personality–but, he’s just an introvert at the end of the day. oscar’s a man of few words: that’s what people who aren’t well acquainted with him would say. if you’ve had the pleasure of sticking around oscar long enough for him to become comfortable with you, you’ll learn that oscar has an incredibly complex personality. he’s overly sarcastic, has a niche sense of humor, and can ramble endlessly at you. but, he’s still a fairly calm and quiet individual. which is why the way oscar is about to scream at the top of his lungs in the middle of this mclaren event, would be considered uncharacteristic of him.

he originally invited you to join him tonight thinking that having you by his side would eliminate the social exhaustion he experiences at these types of sponsor events. however, the aussie failed to realize that you may introduce a…different problem, to tonight’s business party. when oscar asked you to join him two weeks ago, he was prepared for all of your objections–you’re both chronic homebodies, and you both hate partaking in small talk with balding, later-aged, cologne-drenched, white men who don’t know when to let a conversation die. he chose the perfect time to ask you (after you emerged from the bathroom post-self-care bath), and addressed all of your grievances. 

oh, you don’t have anything to wear? he already bought you an outfit, had it altered to perfectly fit your measurements, and bought you a pair of heels and a purse to match. oh, you won’t be able to get your hair done in time? he already scheduled an appointment with your usual hairstylist the day before the event, paid all of her fees, and tipped her very nicely. oh, your nails aren’t done?  he booked you a spot at your preferred nail salon for a premium mani-pedi, and has a few nail inspiration photos picked out if you can’t decide. if you need your lashes done or need to get waxed, he can make the call right now; he has them on standby to fit you in.

knowing the amount of phone calls oscar had to partake in to arrange all of this causes you to fold and agree to join him. there’s nothing more the two of you hate than making phone calls–well, besides the pr events.

oscar had chosen an alluring burnt-orange mesh corset and matching ruched ankle-length skirt that looks beautiful against your warm, soft and shining brown skin. your hair is silk-pressed, length reaching your mid-back and your edges are laid in a minimal manner, matching the simplicity of your makeup look. simple gold rings are spread across a few fingers, ears accessorized with a pair of small good hoops oscar gifted you, and his initials rest in the dip between your clavicles attached to a thin gold chain. objectively, you're considerably modestly dressed, the only skin you're showing is on your arms, shoulders, a smidge of your decolletage, and the tops of your feet in the low-heeled strappy sandals. 

this is the start of what oscar failed to account for. he didn’t expect the outfit to hug your curves like plastic wrap. the whole night he’s had to forcefully deny himself the opportunity to stare at your ass, but that doesn’t mean the other men at the event have the same courtesy. he’s taken to burning holes with his eyes into anybody who lets their gaze linger over your form for a second too long. on a regular day, oscar is generally unaffected by anyone who appreciates your body (they can look, but the second they try to touch–you let them know exactly how they had you fucked up), but if he catches one more mclaren engineer undressing you with their eyes–he will make zac fire all of them; he’ll plan his own race strategy and do his goddamn pitstop by himself.

oscar also didn’t account for how your timid and sweet attitude would have everyone enamored with you; at first, watching everyone eagerly attune to your shy words was amusing to him, but it quickly became a nuisance. he was originally leading you around the room, doing his rounds at any important figures’ tables, and everything was fine. and then, oscar had made the obvious mistake of making you laugh–a pleasant stream of giggles spilling from your lips, dimples deepening, and smile widening at whatever small joke he made. he’s always thrilled to see how you throw your head back in amusement, how your hands clap together gleefully, and how your eyes squint in from the force of your laughter. as he shakes himself out of your dazzling trance, he attempts to rejoin the conversation–but every single person at the table remains entranced and wide-eyed at you. 

this would be completely fine, of course, if it was a one-off occasion; but it’s not. 

suddenly, every person oscar tries to thank for supporting mclaren, starts ignoring him and paying more attention to you. he’s literally the pilot of the car that these people are spending an absurd amount of money on, but they can’t even bother to try and pretend to listen to him. men and women alike are finding any excuse to prolong conversations with you, and even lean within your personal space with the excuse that ‘they can’t hear you very well because you’re so soft spoken.’ nobody can invade your personal space, but oscar. he has no choice but to do the very thing he hates–pda. you continue to circle around the room, his hand constantly resting on the small of your back or the dip of your waist. when you’re in the middle of listening to some completely unnecessary story a man is telling you, oscar constantly adjusts your hair, plays with your rings, and smooths down your skirt if he feels like they’re trying too hard. you banish oscar to getting you a glass of water when he begins to interject in conversations in a passive-aggressive manner.

his third strike off the night, might actually be an overall win in his books. when you saw oscar in his new fitted suit, you stared him dead in the eye and told him to ‘get naked and rail you’. it’s this beautiful deep cream color that pairs perfectly with the dark orange tone of your outfit, but the vest underneath the suit jacket highlights his tiny waist so clearly that it makes you want to scream. in between socializing, you overwhelm oscar with compliments, unable to stop telling him how handsome he looks. you surgically attach yourself to his side and hug his arm; taking an occasional squeeze of his bicep, playing with his cufflinks, and tracing the veins on the back of his hand. oscar practically runs to get you a refill of water because he’d be unable to stop himself from getting fully hard if you touched him any longer–the trousers hide nothing.

he can feel your burning gaze from across the room, and turns back to watch you after asking a waiter for water, and catches your eyes roaming the length of his body. in high-definition, he sees your tongue wetting your lips before you bite at your bottom lip–and then, your attention is stolen away from some random man who’s introducing himself to you and the group of ladies you found yourself accosted by as soon as oscar left your side.

and, that’s it for oscar. he thinks he may have heard his last-fucking-button being pressed inside his head, and seethes. he goes to push off from his leaned stance against the counter and makes to start his warpath, but a hand grasps at his shoulder. oscar turns around snappily, biting out an irritated and sarcastic, “can i help you?”

“woah! calm down now, mate. thought you were going to bite my head off for a second,” it’s lando, “if i were anybody else i’m sure there would be an unfortunate tabloid of ‘how oscar piastri is the most rude f1 driver on the grid’” lando jokes teasingly, yet a hint of seriousness leaks into his tone. 

oscar nods, understanding the underlying warning within the brit’s teasing. he apologizes softly to lando, before glancing back over at you, and can infer that you charmingly informed the man that you have a boyfriend—based on the way you point in his direction. oscar watches the polite smile fade from your face as the man continues to bother you, and the murderous look rises to his face again.

“OKAY”, lando claps abruptly, startling not only oscar, but everyone in a 10 foot radius. lando waves everyone else’s eyes away, smiling like he didn’t do anything, and speaks underneath his breath, “go. i’ll cover for you.”

oscar’s mouth drops open, baffled, “what?”

“leave—get your girlfriend and go,” lando says matter-of-factly, his smile becoming genuine, “zac probably won’t like to hear that you looked particularly murderous, and he definitely won’t like hearing that you slaughtered our sponsors, and that i let it happen.”

oscar snorts before he thanks lando sincerely, and the brit dismisses him, “i’m just looking out for my rookie teammate as the senior driver for our team. i can’t let your horny teenage mindset become common knowledge to our esteemed guests.”

“first of all,” oscar says dryly, his grateful mood dissipating at the mocking, “i didn’t even know you knew the word ‘esteemed' existed,” lando scoffs, “and secondly, you are literally only two years older than me.”

lando looks at oscar with a blank stare and deadpans, “do you want to leave or not?”

oscar daps up his teammate in farewell, and makes his way over to you as quickly as he can without seeming desperate, your glass of water left behind on the counter. your back is facing him as he approaches and you're still unwillingly participating in conversation with the man who can’t take no for an answer. as he gets closer, he can piece together the conversation; the dude doesn’t believe you have a boyfriend and you must be lying to him, and you’re adamant that your boyfriend is very real.

“look, bro. even if i was lying about having a boyfriend, why would i give you my number now? like, i’m just supposed to forget how you’ve been harassing me—“

oscar rests his hand on your side, and when you turn your head to see who’s touching you, he leans down and kisses you. it’s a kiss deep enough to let everyone know who you’re leaving with tonight, but not deep enough to be salacious (he can hear lando’s cackle from the other side of the room).

you melt into his kiss before he pulls away, leaving you dazed and disoriented, stumbling into him. oscar drapes his left arm around your shoulder, guiding you to tuck into his side, while he offers his right hand to the offending man for a handshake. “it seems i haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you yet. i’m oscar, i drive for mclaren,” he introduces himself, sounding overly pleased.

the man angers, ignoring oscar’s extended hand and cockily states, “you should already know who i am. my family nicely lent you the mclaren you drove here tonight!”

“ah,” oscar smiles viciously, “if ‘your family’ kindly lent me the car, that would explain why i only remember your father’s name–and not his arrogant, disrespectful, and narcissistic trust-fund son’s name.”

the man stomps his foot in rage, like a spoiled brat, and questions, “who do you think you’re talking too?!”

oscar smirks, “nobody important, apparently,” (one of the ladies listening whispers a quiet ‘damn, that’s crazy’), oscar continues, “don’t worry, mate–i’ll make sure your father’s car returns home to him safely. should i bill you for any cleaning, in case i make a mess of it?”

the guy stumbles over a response before he scoffs and stomps away. oscar shrugs uncaring, before addressing the group of ladies who were cliqued to the side watching the whole interaction, “well. if you all don’t mind, i’m just going to steal her away from you ladies, if that’s okay?” (like there’s an option). the ladies fawn over oscar’s protectiveness before they let the two of you go, and then he starts herding you towards the exit.

it’s torture. in every five steps the two of you take, you're interrupted by various guests trying to catch you one last time. oscar feels like they’re all intentionally aggravating him; patting you on the arm, commenting on how eye-catching you look, and using the fact that the two of you are leaving to press a kiss to your hand in goodbye. you two burst out of the main doors and sigh in relief, for different reasons–for you, it’s because oscar didn’t give one of his sponsors brain damage, and for oscar, it’s because he’s one step closer to getting you in his bed.

you grasp at oscar’s hand, and he starts to lead you down the steps towards the valet, and as you fall into step at his side, you speak softly under your breath, “i can understand why you kissed me like that inside because the dude was being an asshole–even though you were marking your territory like some kind of dog–but, please; don’t tear this poor man’s throat out for helping me into the car.”

the australian remains quiet, properly chastised and works on releasing the pent up effect of the annoyances from inside the venue. everything is going well; the valet asks oscar for his parking ticket, and he goes to grab the keys, but stops just before he makes to start heading to the car, and turns back to you two and says, “i don’t know if i told you when you walked in but–you look incredibly beautiful tonight, miss. you could be a model, seriously. like, you should feel so lucky to have a woman like her–”

all attempts of oscar finding his peace are thrown out of the window. he interrupts the dude’s rambling, and bites out, “hey man, y’know what. i can just take the keys to the car. we can walk to it.”

the valet stutters, confused, “a-are you sure, i mean it’s like pretty far in the back. i can run and get it no pro–”

“it’s FINE! i mean, it’s cool, we can use the extra steps, y’know. enjoy the breeze and everything,” oscar says, slightly maniacal. there’s no breeze, it’s warm. the valet’s and your eyes meet for a second and a shared thought of “he’s trippin” is passed telepathically.

the valet concedes, not wanting to upset the f1 driver any farther and tosses him the keys. as the two of you are passing by, oscar hands the man a bill that’s probably too big based on the man’s astonished gasp. you call out to the man, continuing to walk further in the lot, “sorry about him! he just gets a little touchy about strangers driving his car, y’know?” oscar grumbles lowly next to you, and you smack him on the arm, “what did you want me to say? ‘oh sorry, my boyfriend just wants to fuck me really badly to soothe his needless jealousy?’”

“as long as he knows who’s the one who gets to take you home and fuck you.”

“oscar!” you squeak, “we both know we’d die of embarrassment if you said that. i can’t even imagine those words coming out of your mouth, in that order.”

you guys eventually puzzle out where the car is after several remote beeps of the car’s horn, and find that it’s literally tucked away in the last row, far corner with no surrounding cars for two rows.

oscar doesn’t open your door like he usually does, and leads you around to the driver's side. he opens the door, pushes the seat back as far as it goes, and sits down. without saying anything, he loosens his tie and goes to unbuckle his belt before you reach down and grab at his hand, bewildered, “oscar jack! what the fuck are you doing?”

he blinks, “i’m fucking you, right now. it’s too long of a drive back—i’m going to crash the car if you keep sitting next to me in that goddamn outfit. i was going to take you to the bathroom inside, but i figured you’d at least prefer the car. you can be a little louder here.”

your mouth dries, “you said they loaned you an incredibly rare, vintage mclaren, babe. i’m not gonna-“

oscar wrestles his way out of his suit jacket, spreads it underneath him on the leather seat, and pats his lap. “problem solved.”

shifting your weight, you glance around nervously. oscar is right, you would prefer the car over the bathroom. all those people inside who could overhear, gossip, and spread the news of how rookie mclaren, f1 driver, oscar piastri, had you yelling his name in the middle of an event. you’d pass.

“oh, c’mon now, babe. you didn’t think i saw the way you were eating me alive with your eyes inside,” your boyfriend teases, “i know you‘ve at least gotten a little wet for me already, haven’t you?”

that’s all it takes; the australian acting possessive and feening to get inside you is more than enough to have you straddling his lap and pulling the car door shut with a slam.

oscar tugs you into dirty make out, and you get lost in his pink lips, tugging teeth, and explorative tongue. the last of your breath tapers out in a reedy moan, and you break the kiss to pant against his lips, and oscar laughs. his laughter spreads through your chest, and it has your hips rolling against the bulge you feel underneath you. his amusement is cut off, and his hands fly to grip at your hips. he starts tugging you against him in a filthy grind, and choked off moans from the two of you start to fill the car.

you press kisses to oscar’s jaw line, paving a path down to his wide strong neck with your tongue. you suck on small patches of skin, not using enough suction to leave a mark, but enough for oscar to become aware of the fantasization that you could. the aussie gasps at every random suckle of your lips as he scrambles to pull the skirt up your legs. you shift your hips up to make it easier for him, as your hands feel down his torso to his belt. it unbuckles fairly easily, and you shove it out of the way, to unzip the slacks and pull his cock out.

oscar moans, throwing his head back at the feel of your hand on his length, and you get entranced in the trap that his pale thick neck is, again. you hum against his neck, introducing teeth alongside the ache of the suction of your mouth, and bully the collar of his shirt out of the way to find a space to leave a few marks. oscar’s breath freezes at the first hickey he feels you leave, but the rapid inhale he takes next clears his mind enough to have his right hand pull your panties to the side, and move to caress your heat.

you shudder on top of him, your breathy sigh amplified within the car. oscar sinks two fingers inside of you, and a much louder moan is tugged out. your hands fly up to grasp onto his shoulder, and your head tilts backward away from his neck in pleasure. his fingers thrust into you gently for a few beats slowly working to open you up for him and once he feels your cunt starting to relax, his thumb reaches to press at your clit. whines fill the air, as you lean all the way back, resting your back on the steering wheel allowing oscar all the space he needs to stretch you out. his fingers start curling as they drag out of you, and you can feel the pads of his fingers rubbing over a soft spot on the front of your walls. 

oscar’s eyes were stuck marveling over the overwhelmed expression on your face, but once he starts feeling wetness dripping down his arm he glances down, and curses out a rough, “fuck, baby—you’re dripping all over me.” your cheeks burn hot, and you can’t tell if that’s out of humiliation or the effect of his awe-filled voice. your right hand releases his shoulder, and bats at his arm, before tugging at his wrist to pull his fingers out, “that’s enough, mmm, just get in me already.”

oscar eagerly draws away; he uses his clean hand to tug his wallet out of his back pocket, and tugs a condom out with a smidge of struggle before handing it to you. you snatch it out of his hand, biting it open and rolling it over his cock, and once it’s on, you tease, “jeez, osc. you really were planning on jumping me in the middle of the event tonight—grabbing a condom and everything; you think i’m that easy?”

he chuckles, satisfied, his hand drenched in your wetness rubbing over his cock to get him slick, and teases back, “you’re about to ride my cock in the parking lot of said event, pretending to be worried about ruining the seats of this vintage car. i’m not calling you easy, but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared, does it?”

your cheeks are definitely burning from humiliation this time around, but you huff, ignoring him checking you. you tug his hand away, raising your hips, and guide him to your entrance with your own hand, before slowly sinking down. 

twin sets of moans fill the air as he bottoms out; one of his hands reaches to palm at your ass (it’s sticky, so it must be the one he fingered you with), and the other grips at your waist tightly. you squirm on top of him, knees barely managing to find enough room to prop on the seat to give you a stable base. once you feel stable in your cramped position, you give a testing grind of your hips, and from there, it’s lights out.

oscar lets you set the pace for a few thrusts, suffering in the languid rock of your hips; you’re torturously tight around him, and he can only groan at the feeling of you wrapped around him. his chest heaves, before he brings both hands to halt your hips, and starts fucking up into you rough and quick. a scream jostles out of your throat at the unexpected change of speed, but you just take it with no complaints, allowing yourself to go limp against the wheel of the car to hold your body upright. he moves your body for you, pulling you downwards to meet his upward thrusts; and you feel him constantly applying pressure against that one tender spot right under your navel.

your boyfriend revels in the sound of the moans he’s punching out of your throat, admiring the way your head is thrown back—mouth open wide, eyes scrunched tight, lips bruised and bitten to hell. it’s a lewd picture, painted by himself. the car rocks along to his frantic rhythm, windows fogging, and sweat begins to form on both of your skin. the aussie’s core tightens; he won’t last much longer, you’ve had him half-hard the whole night.

a frustrated grunt escapes oscar, and you hum questionably about to ask what’s wrong–but his right hand leaves your waist to furiously start circling your clit, and an ear piercing shriek leaves you. “c’mon now, babe. ah-be good and come f’me yeah? im so close, baby–please,” he babbles, the last shred of sanity leaving him. his hips don’t falter once–to you it feels like they’re moving quicker, every sensitive spot receiving attention from the sharp snaps of them.

you cry out, it’s all too much; your hand reaches down to press against his navel in a feeble attempt to stop him from stroking so deep and roughly, and incoherent pleads try and tumble out of your mouth, “mm! osc–no! ah–too much, baby! it’s too much–hngh–feels weird–s-slow down!” it’s like his ears are filled with cotton; he can hear you begging down at him but can’t make out what your saying over the blood rushing in his ears. he’s trapped staring at your pretty cunt, watching the obscene amount of wetness coming out of you–the suit jacket underneath him is completely ruined, and he off-handedly thinks it won’t be saving the leather upholstery.

your legs start quivering and trembling–it damn near looks like you're freezing to death, even though the car has become as humid as a sauna. your own orgasm shocks you, and your eyes roll back erotically–unable to give oscar any warning. and in your last moment of awareness, you realize that something feels different, but it’s too late.

you choke on your scream of, “oscar, fuck!” as fluid gushes out of your cunt, and the first wave is enough to completely drench oscar’s pants, and oscar finally returns to the moment in amazement. he eagerly brushes his hand against your clit, and shortens his strokes to quick little jabs to force more of your juices out, and you can only ride along. you try to slam your legs shut, to jostle oscar’s hand away, but it’s futile with his torso propping you open for him. you’re sobbing messily, as he forces more liquid to spray from your cunt–and he moans out his own orgasm, ripped from him in surprise. the australian halts his stimulation this time around when you frantically tug his wrist away when the pleasure melds to pain, and allows himself to get a few more jerks of his hips in.

you fall forward, collapsing into his chest–the squelch of your thighs meeting his pant-covered ones has him humming and grinding his hips into you as gently as he can. the two of you shake against each other, hearts rabbiting as you catch your breath. oscar’s hands rise to rub at your back, bringing you down from the aftershocks still trembling over your body. 

“i-i’ve never squirted before,” you whisper into his neck.

your boyfriend hums softly, “did you like it?”

he feels you nod against him shyly.

“then, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he comforts, knowing if he seems approving of it, you’ll be quicker to accept it as something good, “how i’m going to explain the ruined suit and car seat to mclaren on the other hand…”

a shaky laugh from you causes oscar to smile, “i told you you shouldn’t fuck me in the car.”

“how was i supposed to know that tonight would be the night i’d made you gush all over me?! i was hoping that when the time came we’d at least be on a couch,” he whines.

“shut the fuck up,” you joke, “i want a live play by play when you explain the cleaning bill to zac.”

the aussie pauses, faking thoughtfulness, “maybe i should send the bill to the trust-fund baby. zac would back me up–he’s american, he’d probably find it hilarious.”

oscar gently shifts you over to the passenger seat, and you tug your skirt all the way down, and he fights his way out of his slacks that stuck to his thighs with your wetness. he manages to wrangle them off and kicks them to the side of the car floor along with the soiled suit jacket, after fishing the keys out of them, sitting out in his boxers, and glances over to see you adjusting your appearance as best as you possibly can.

“you want a mcflurry?” the aussie offers.

“as long as we can get a fry with it,” you smile at the random shift in conversation, allowing him to hide his embarrassment.

oscar turns the keys in the ignition, and the engine rolls into life with a deep, vibrating hum. he catches your legs pressing together tightly, and you squirm at the purr of the engine under your seat.

“well,” oscar starts nonchalantly as he reverses out of the spot, “you have the time that it takes to get from the drive-through to the flat to finish eating–because as soon as we get home, i’m taking you to bed and learning how to make you squirt, consistently. i don’t care how long it takes, or how many orgasms you have–i’ll keep going ‘til you come dry, babe.”

taglist: @lorarri @soph1644 @jaydensluv @fanboyluvr @nissaimmortal @redgonerogue @hollie911 @saintwrld @buendiabebeta @butterfly-lover @lana-d3l-rey @dylan1721 @spicybagel14 @dhhdhsiavdhajj @miahgonzalez16 @jjaekin @dkbj14 @f1lover55 @f1lov3r @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @sweetpiccolo-blog @my-ylenia @zaynzierulez @reblog-princess

© httpsserene 2023

[russellsppttemplates]

It's just the beggining (Oscar Piastri)

Oscar hasn't done or said anything, so you're taking matters into your own hands

Note: english is not my first language. It's my first Oscar piece and I'm nervous posting this, but hopefully you enjoy it! 🫶

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Cw: mentions reader's grandparents' health issues, mentions the situation with McLaren and Daniel, insomnia

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Hey, Y/N!", James called you once he saw you walk by his classroom, "hey", you greeted back, adjusting your books on your arms.

"There is a new kid, I'm sure you know, Oscar Piastri his name is, and apparently he's staying the long weekend too, like you", he trailed off, not knowing if he was stepping further than he should.

"Yes, I am staying, it's okay to talk about it", you gave him tight lipped smile, "well, I was hoping you'd keep him company - he's a bit shy, but he's very fun to be around and the teacher also thought it would be good since you're both staying", he reasoned as you nodded.

You had to stay back because your grandparents didn't live in England, and because of their old age and problems that naturally arose with that, your parents had to fly out and spend sometime with them, meaning you didn't have anyone back home, so you stayed. As for Oscar, you found out that he was staying back because his family was in Melbourne.

"At first, I just had online schooling, but it got trickier to manage and my dad needed to go back to work so I had to stay back", he explained when you asked him why he was there, "and I hope I can focus on racing, but you already know that", he scoffed softly.

"I don't think I do, I'm sorry", you narrowed your eyes, genuinely unaware of what he was talking about.

After he told you all about his career until that moment, as well as his hopes and dreams, he chuckled, "you really didn't know?", he wondered.

"I didn't! The girls said something about you moving here but I didn't listen much, I'm not that into gossip and my memory is like Dory's, I can never keep up with the latest who likes who and who flirted with what's his face", you earnestly replied.

For the first time since he arrived at the school, he felt like he could really trust someone and he could hope for new friendships on this side of the world.

You were there for his final race in F4, clapping at him on the podium, and even F3 and F2 despite your university deadlines, always making sure you could support him in every way you could.

"Hey, Osc", you said over the phone, setting your pen down the desk and swivelling in the chair. You wanted to get as much knowledge and experience as possible, so you applied to do a internship in a physiotherapy clinic near your apartment during the summer.

"Hey, Y/N, how are you doing?", he asked as you could notice the antsyness on his voice.

"I'm good, it's a bit of a slow day here, my supervisor said I could read up on a few articles", you mused, "is everything okay?", you asked.

"I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner tonight", he began, "you can come to my flat if that's okay, I'll order something in since I can't be trusted in the kitchen", he suggested.

"Fine by me, I'd like that, sounds really nice", you smiled, "I'll see you soon, then", you added, not wanting to dwell much on the fact that he didn't answer your question.

When you left the clinic, you walked to Oscar's place since the sun had graced you for the day and it was still nice to be out. Knocking on the door, you waited for him to open it, "I'm still in my scrubs as I didn't see the need to change", you said as you walked inside, hugging Oscar after dropping your backpack on the floor.

"Hey, you look nice, don't worry about it", he smiled as he led you to the living room, "I had to go and get the take out myself, but it's still warm", he said as you sat at the dining table.

"Now can you tell me if there's something wrong?", you wondered as you poured some of the wine he kept for you at his place on your glass.

"I have something to tell you actually", he played with his glass while he fought the smile on his lips, "this weekend I finally had some conversations with McLaren", he began.

"McLaren?", you asked as you served yourself of the food in front of you, taking some bimi brocoli and then some of the warm noodles.

"Yes, McLaren. We finally spoke about contracts and, this morning, I signed the official driver contract for next season", he stated as if he was saying that the sun had been out today.

"You did what? Since when has this been in the works?", you gasped, dropping the kitchen utensils and looking at him intently, "you're driving for McLaren next season?", he nodded, "like, driving on track? Oh my Goodness, Oscar! That's amazing!", you got up and hugged him, "why didn't you lead with that?", you pinched the nape of his neck playfully as you kept the tears from falling from your eyes. This was his dream and he was getting to live it as early as the end of the year when pre season preparations began.

"I didn't want to tell you over the phone", he shrugged his shoulders.

"But how? This is huge, Oscar!", you smiled, your teeth showing and eyes squinting with how high your cheeks rose.

"There were a lot of conversations about it, specially the last few weeks", Oscar explained, "they still want to keep it quiet", he warned.

"So you're driving alongside Lando?", you wondered. You only followed motorsport and the Formula series because of your bestfriend, so the assumption you made was based on what you had seen and read.

"Yes, hence why they want to keep it quiet, I've only told you and my family", he mentioned, "my manager knows that, obviously, but I really need you to keep quiet about it", he smiled.

"Absolutely, don't worry!", you assured, "this is so amazing Oscar! You're going to drive in Formula One! Aren't you amazed?", you beamed.

"I put in the work too, you know?", he dramatically feigned offense as you hugged him tighter, "this is your dream, Osc", you cooed, letting the tears fall freely down your cheeks as you swayed you both around, "I'm so proud of you", you hiccuped, holding his head close to your lips so you could kiss his forehead.

"Let's eat, this is getting cold", your best friend urged as the situation for more intimate and brought you closer and closer to the thing he had been avoiding for nearly a year.

The feelings he had been arbouring for you weren't just friendship. How could he keep himself from being in love with you? You had been there with him and for him when he was alone in a new country, being the other shy kid that spent the long weekend im boarding school, and since then you had been attached by the hip. You were kind, caring, intelligent, beautiful inside and outside and anyone would be a fool to not see why Oscar felt the way he did about you.

.

"I'm just going to a training camp, Y/N, I do these every year!", Oscar reasoned as you groaned.

"Who am I going to complain to about university? Or how noisy my neighbours are? I'm going to die of boredom", you stated, "when you come back, I will have ceased to exist because of boredom and lack of attention", you exaggeratedly threw yourself on your sofa.

"You won't, silly", he chuckled, pulling you up since his trainer was picking him up soon, "you're going to go out and enjoy yourself, okay? You'll barely notice I'm gone", he tried as you helped him with his suitcases down to the door.

"I'll miss you", you muttered as you hugged him, "enjoy your training camp!", you smiled as you pulled away, waving at him before you made your way to your place.

Getting on with the project you had to hand in at the end of the week, you got it all through to the end, leaving time to proofread later.

You clicked on the folder where you kept your photos and videos, looking through them and reliving all of the memories you had in there.

Most of them had Oscar somehow, wether it was a screen grab from one of your FaceTime calls when he was at races, picnics in the park and lazy days at your place.

You had to admit it, for your sake and Oscar's sake as your friendship was on the line. At first you thought it was just the fact that a boy seemed to want to spend time with you, so you put it to that. Recently, however, things changed perspective and you felt stronger feelings and emotions when you thought about him.

You loved spending time with him and cherished every single hour he chose to spend with you whenever he didn't have racing related duties. Every time he hugged you, you clung just a little longer to feel hia body against yours and his arms enveloping you.

Whenever someone approached you in the rare times you went out clubbing with your friends, "I have a boyfriend" became more a wish and a need rather than some made up excuse to get guys to leave you alone.

So, to sum it up, you either had an honest conversation with him or continued to dwell on feelings you couldn't keep to yourself.

.

"Y/N just sent me a picture of her notes, can you believe they ask them to know all of that?", he showed his trainer Kim while they had lunch after a strenuous workout.

"I had to learn most of that, too", he said nonchalantly, not necessarily diminishing your competences and intelligence but letting Oscar know that maybe his infatuation with you had a source elsewhere.

"Y/N is very smart, I'm sure she'll do really well - oh, she sent me a picture, she's all dressed up!", he said as he inspected the mirror picture. He assumed it was a requirement for your presentation, as you usually preferred comfy attire, since you had a pair of trousers and a shirt, some small heels on your feet and your bright smile that left him feeling butterflies in his stomach every single time, "she looks gorgeous", he said as he texted you the same words along with wishes of good luck.

"Something you'd like to say?", Oscar quesioned when he felt Kim's eyes on him as he put the phone back on the table, screen down.

"I'm just here wondering why you're not together", the trainer offered simply after he wiped his mouth on the napkin.

"No, we are not together, at least not yet", he mused. The thought had crossed his mind, admitting how he felt about you before the season began. If everything went belly up and you didn't feel the same and didn't see him that way, he would occupy his time and channel all of his energy into racing; if you did feel the same, he would have been worrying for nothing and would have a extra spring up his step for his first season in Formula One.

"Good to know you're working on it", Kim waved his fork at Oscar, "now we need to finish this and we'll do some recovery stretches", he announced as Oscar groaned, prolonging his meal as long as he could.

.

Today, Oscar was coming back from Lanzarote and you couldn't wait to speak to him. Lately, it all dawned on you.

It happened a couple of nights ago, a slight insomnia episode keeping you up when you thought about what things would be like from now on. Oscar would travel a lot more, and he would be in a much public role compared to his previous one. It would seem stupid to other people, but a lot more people would know him, and you were sure they would fall in love with him. How could they not? Hence why you wanted to quit those thoughts while you were ahead of them.

I'm on the cab to your place, it should take another 10 minutes and Can't wait to see you, Oscar texted you just as you finished tidying your living room.

You missed him dearly, so when you threw yourself into his arms, you didn't let go as he kicked his suitcases into your apartment while still holding close to him, "I kind of need to get my backpack off my back, and I can't do that if I don't set you somewhere - only for a bit at the very least", Oscar suggested after trying to balance you against his body with one arm but he didn't feel safe enough to let you go without you falling.

Reluctantly, you got back down, feet back on the floor as he discarded his backpack before he tapped your hip twice, "up again, I want a proper hug", he mumbled as you jumped back, his hands protectively holding your thighs up as he nuzzled his face on your neck, "I need you so, so much", he sighed.

"I missed you too", you replied back, "and I don't ever want to miss you like this when I don't know how to feel about you", you forwarded. Now or never, you thought as you jumped out of his hold and faced him.

"I missed you like I have never missed you before, not even when you go a visit your family or when you went away for triple headers - and I've been trying to understand why and I finally realised what it was. I like you, more than friends like eachother - for Goodness' sake, I'm in love with you", you chuckled nervously as you admitted it out loud to him, "and everyone else will love you too - I just know it -, so soon enough you won't be my Osc anymore and I couldn't not tell you. People - and these gorgeous girls all over the world - are going to like you so much and I won't be able to compete with them, so I'm just telling you how I feel. You can leave if you want or we'll just stay here in silence of that works too, but I needed to admit my feelings", you let out in one go.

Oscar smiled, a big teeth and gums showing smile as his eyes crinkled at your words, "I'm not leaving, and we are not going to be silent - at least immediately - because I want to tell you how I feel", he began, "I'm in love with you too; I have been for about two years and only realised it a year ago, and I don't want to pretend anymore. I want to be able to kiss you, to hug you, to take you with me wherever possible, to sleep next to you, to argue with you, I want all of it. With you", he said, hand cupping your cheek as his eyes asked for consent to kiss your lips.

It was as you dreamed it would be, soft, gentle and caring, lips moving in sync as you held him by his waist, pulling him closer to you.

"I thought I was loosing you to the whole F1 fandom", you chuckled, looking up at him once you pulled away.

"Of course you won't, you're my best girl", he winked, "this is just the beggining for us", he added as he pulled you to cuddle on the sofa, sharing his stories of the past days as you revelled in the feeling of being in his arms.

[alexsoenomel]

Camping Shenanigans

Summary: You like both brothers and you decide to go camping for Sam's birthday.

Pairing: Sam x Reader x Dean Winchester

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI , implied smut, kissing, fluff

Word count: 4.9k

Note: Not beta read. It has been sitting in my drafts for months. Enjoy!

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

"Camping? Are you serious?" 

"Yes, Dean, it's my birthday," Sam answered. 

"It was my idea," you chimed in as Dean shot you a death stare. "Kinda," You added.

***

It wasn't actually your idea. You just asked Sam a simple question:

“What’s something you always wanted to do but never had a chance to do it?”

He said camping. 

"Why do you ask?"

"Your birthday is coming soon!" You told him and stuffed your face with some scrambled eggs you decided to have that morning.

"So?" Sam was a bit confused. He never really cared much about his birthday. 

"Let's do something fun for your birthday. Every year is the same; Dean celebrates his birthdays hammered and dodging STDs like bullets, my birthdays are depressing because I'm always broke or sad or both, and yours…it's like you don't have birthdays." 

"So,do you wanna go camping for my birthday?" 

"Yes! And we can celebrate in nature with lots of alcohol." 

"I mean sure, but Dean's gonna –"

"Oh fuck what Dean says he's coming too."

***

"Kinda?!"

"It will be fun Dean, besides spending time in nature will be good for you," Sam said.

"Actually, concerning amount of booze and chicks with daddy issues are the only two things that are good for me, not this!" He still kept protesting.

"You're going, Dean!" Sam told him. 

"Fine, but if a snake bites me, I'm shaving your head!" 

"Yeah, yeah! Pack a bag, we're going tomorrow morning!"

"TOMORROW MORNING?!" Dean’s voice went an octave higher.

"Yeah, and I'm driving!" Sam smirked. 

"Not a chance," Dean simply said before taking a sip of beer. 

You and Sam found a wonderful campsite in Greenheart National Park in Wyoming and decided to book it, long before telling Dean. Two nights under the stars in the middle of nowhere sounded wonderful, but Dean still wasn't impressed. Even after telling him, it wasn't a traditional campsite – it had toilets, outdoor showers and all-inclusive breakfast, lunch and dinner – he still wasn't impressed. Dean being Dean - he was protesting and whining, right until you actually sat in his car and he started the engine. He didn't like the idea, but it was Sam's birthday tomorrow and he would go to the ends of the Earth for his little brother. 

The drive was long and seemed endless. Between trying to get comfortable, taking a nap, listening to music and eating snacks because of boredom, you couldn’t wait to spend time in nature and watch the stars. Sam was visibly excited, asking Dean every two hours where you were, explaining how to set up a tent, telling fun statistics about bear attacks which made Dean a bit uneasy. Sam’s inner child was slowly healing and yours was just happy to tag along. Dean's on the other hand…his inner child just wanted to get back to bed.

“This is going to be fun!” You laughed. “Dean, get ready to fight bears!” 

“Shut your mouth!” 

*****

After approximately 13 hours you finally arrived, far away from civilization. Everything was green, the sky was blue and the air was fresh. It was almost 9pm and even though it was May, it was a bit chilly.

"You will all get your tents, feel free to set up anywhere you like, but please don't go far away from the station," The bold man was speaking, aka the owner. He was a middle-aged man, very athletic and taller than Sam. Nice obnoxious smile too. "Dinner is in an hour and if anyone has to shower, showers and toilets are behind the gazebo. We will start the bonfire at 11pm if you wanna join. I'm making some good ol' homemade chips. Hope you enjoy your stay and please if you have any questions, concerns, I'm here."

"He seems nice," You whispered.

"Yeah, and bold," Dean added, clearly trying to sound funny. He tried and failed.

“He might be bold, but next to him you’re just a scrawny little bitch,” you clapped back, hoping it would sting him. 

“Ouch!” It did. 

Sam laughed.

*****

“So, do you want to share a tent?” You asked the brothers as they shared a look of concern. 

“Well…” Sam started, but was unable to finish his thought.

“Mmm..” Dean too.

They didn’t like the idea, so naturally you decided to go with it and ask the owner to give you the biggest tent he could find. “For the three of you?” The guy asked, pointing a finger at Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup. You were the last one to get your tent. Some people already found their spot and set up theirs.  

“Yes, the biggest one please. I don’t wanna be suffocated by these two.” 

The guy chuckled. “Roger that!” He then went into the storage room and started rummaging through his things. After a minute he came back holding a large black bag. “Here you go!” He said and tossed it to Sam. “That will do!” He also gave you three sleeping bags and you were off.

“Thank you so much!” You said. 

****

You found your spot far away from people next to a pine tree that was sticking out from the rest of the forest that was behind you. The hill was beautiful, grass perfectly cut, the sky covered in stars like freckles scattered all over, while the air felt colder than an hour ago.

“I have no idea what I’m doing!” Dean said, trying to see which part of the tent goes where, while you used the flashlight on your phone to guide him. 

“Let me!” Sam said and gathered all the poles in one pile. He read a thing or two about different types of tents and recognized you got the one with a porch aka ‘the fancy one’. 

“Well happy birthday Sammy!” You told him. “Congratulations on being one year closer to death!”

“Wow (Y/N), you sure know how to make a man feel like crap!” Dean scoffed. 

“What’re you talking about Dean? I praise him all the time. Both of you!”

“Yeah, praise my ass!”

“You do have a great ass!” You winked at him. Dean just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms looking offended. 

Sam laughed at your joke. “Thank you, but it’s not midnight yet!”  ***

An hour later, Sam finally set up the tent and Dean was already on his second beer. This campsite was known for having unlimited amounts of booze and Dean was one happy camper when he found that out. Meanwhile Sam was really proud of himself for setting up his first tent. It was spacious and brand new. When you put the sleeping bags in, you realized you were going to get squished by the brothers. The tent was big, but not big enough.

You liked that idea, considering your long history of liking both of them and not being able to decide. It had been over ten years and you still couldn’t decide. They both had qualities you desired in a man and were special in their own way. Sam’s height and intelligence made you want to climb him like a tree and never get down, while Dean’s perfect smile and snarky humor made you want to make him whimper under you. They were childhood friends and lived across the street, and since your parents liked to hang out you would see them almost every weekend.

Once they moved across the country you still stayed in touch - texted and called every once in a while, but your heart was aching for them. You missed them dearly. It all fell into place once you saw Sam one random Monday morning on campus at Stanford and your shenanigans started again. Dean decided more education was too much for his brain, so he opened a small music store in San Diego and was doing surprisingly well. You started hanging out again, going to pubs, having movie nights, game nights…

You and Sam would also visit Dean and everything seemed to make sense once again. You were like three peas in a pod – same but slightly different.

Over the years you learned how to ignore your feelings and push those thoughts away, and yet sometimes you'd catch your stomach flipping every time they would bring up past relationships or flings. They both didn't want to settle down, and while you liked the idea of it, you were picky and hadn’t found someone who was worthy of you to settle down with.

"Shower and alcohol?" You asked Sam, since Dean had already showered and was now on his third beer.

"Yes please."

Showering in nature was a first for you. You thought you were going to freeze but surprisingly even though you did, it felt amazing on your skin. You enjoyed the wind making you shiver. 

“How was it, Sam?” You said, stepping out of the shower in nothing but a towel. Sam actually took the time and got dressed in the wooden shower cabin.

“Cold.” He answered, his voice shivering. His wet hair was slick back, a blue shirt accentuating his muscles, while the gray sweatpants he wore particularly outlined his cock, making it hard to focus.

The things I’d do to that man are ungodly and borderline illegal.

SNAP OUT OF IT!

“And refreshing,” You added. 

“You should get dressed before you get sick.” 

“Okay, mother!” You rolled your eyes and went back to the tent.

Anything for you, handsome!

***

Dinner was delicious – Dutch oven mac and cheese. Everybody got one big full plate and it was better than you could imagine; very salty and cheesy.

It was nice to sit and look at the bonfire while eating your favorite childhood meal but soon you just wanted to get away from the people and loud noise. You stuck around for a few minutes, watching the fire and chatting with a few nice girls you met while waiting for dinner before your social battery completely died. You excused yourself and left. You weren’t in the mood for small talk anymore – Sam and Dean were a lot better at it than you and they were a lot more social too. You decided to watch from afar and sit on the porch swing that was looking directly at the bonfire surrounded by people having a great time. You were sipping your beer watching the fire go wild as the bold guy threw a few branches, making it stable enough to actually start making his homemade chips in the skillet. You felt like a kid again. The beer was just enough to relax you even though the taste wasn't the best. The stars decided to shine that night, while the crescent moon was too shy to show its whole face.

“Having fun over there?” You heard a familiar voice and saw a shadow of a person approaching you. It was Dean. 

“Yeah, just don’t feel like talking to people,” you told him. 

He sat down next to you and put his beer bottle next to yours. You exchanged looks in semi- complete darkness and made a toast. 

“Cheers!”

“Happy birthday to Sam!” You said, looking at Sam who was talking to a guy much shorter than him.

“I swear it was yesterday he was learning how to walk,” Dean told you. 

“You sound like my mother,” You chuckled.

Your mind was getting tired and since the swing was made out of wood, you were struggling to get comfortable. Your head decided to rest on his shoulder as you took a sip of your beer, eyes still on Sam. Your hands wrapped around his arm as you lifted your legs on the swing. His arm was firm and he smelled too good for your own good – something between leather and pines surrounding you. He seemed to be tense though, or at least that was what you thought.

“Dean, I don’t bite, unless you want me to! Relax!”

You couldn’t see but he just rolled his eyes and scoffed. “I’m relaxed!” 

“Well damn, you have been working out then!” You decided to compliment him. As much as you loved roasting him, making him feel good was also important to you. 

“Not so bad for a scrawny little bitch, huh?” 

“Shut up!”

***

The night was growing cold and you were getting tired. You didn't know the time, since your phone was back in the tent, but one thing you knew – it was time to go to sleep. The Winchesters were having a great time lingering in the crowd so you decided to leave them to have their fun and go to sleep. 

"Guys, I'm gonna go hit the sack!" You shouted from afar, since you saw, they were talking to someone – a man you didn't know and didn't want to know.

"Are you sure, (Y/N)?" Sam asked.

"Yeah I'm tired! Good night, guys!" 

"Good night!" They said in sync.

You snuggled up in your sleeping bag, shivering from the cold and realized; since you were sleeping on the ground you won't be able to get one hundred percent comfortable so the only logical thing was to take melatonin for sleep. That magic pill could make any surface feel like clouds and on top of that made you actually have nice dreams, since you didn't dream as much.

You took one pill and chugged a good amount of water. You were out in about 45 minutes.

***

Sam's lips were on your neck, kissing, biting, making you shiver; while Dean's lips went lower and lower. You didn't know which name to moan first, hell, you didn't know where you were, but it was blissful and a whole lot of sinful.

Dean's lips reached your panties and before he moved them to the side, he placed a kiss making you squirm. Sam's large hands were playing with your breasts while he couldn't separate his lips from your neck.

As soon as Dean's tongue touched your throbbing clit, you arched your back in pleasure. He was slow, and with the combination of Sam's rough kisses, your body was overwhelmed and feeling nothing but intense pleasure.

"Dean!" You whispered. “Dean!”

"(Y/N)?" Dean mumbled, his eyes half open, even though he couldn't see shit. 

"Sam! Fuck!" This time, a whisper, sounding more like a light moan of his brother's name.

"You kiddin'?" He was now fully awake and fully aware you were in fact not trying to wake him up.

"So good!" 

"I'll be damned!" He whispered, not really sure what to do. Sam wasn't saying a word so he figured he was in a coma since he had too many beers a few hours ago. You were squished between them but somehow ended up being closer to Dean so he decided to snap you back to reality.

"(Y/N)!" He whispered, this time a little bit louder. "Wake the hell up!" He said, trying to shake you to wake you up.

"Huh, what?" You finally mumbled as he violently pulled you back to reality. It took you a couple of seconds to realize it was, all in fact, just a dream.

"You snore like a buzzsaw!" He lied.

"Oh sorry!" 

And without saying anything else, you both went to sleep. It took Dean a couple of minutes though, since he couldn't stop thinking about what he heard.

Dirty girl. 

Was the last thing he thought before passing out.

****

The next morning you woke up well rested but in pain. Your body felt stiff until you stretched and actually got out of the tent. It was cold during the night, the air was fresh, but with the first rays of the sun came the heat, and you weren’t awoken by the sound of your alarm, it was the heat and stuffy air. When you looked at your phone, it was almost eight in the morning and time for breakfast. You were alone in the tent, Sam and Dean were already up. You got your toothbrush and toothpaste and went to do your business. You couldn't stop thinking about the damn dream. It was too vivid for your own good. The way Dean kissed you with his perfect full lips, Sam’s hands on your hot skin, their moans, groans and big girthy co-

“Good morning, princess,” you heard Dean say as you waited in line to get your breakfast sandwich, still sleepy. He wasn’t a morning person whatsoever so hearing him sound this jolly was strange. 

“Morning,” you didn’t even bother to look at him as you turned around and went to find a place to sit. People were already chatting, having their morning coffees and enjoying the fresh air, while you struggled to exist. It was too early to think, too early to speak and too early to be a human. 

Dean followed you after he poured himself another cup of freshly made black coffee. 

You lazily opened your sandwich from the wrapper and took a first bite; ham, cheese, ketchup, lettuce…usual stuff. It was a little dry for your taste buds, but it wasn’t bad. 

“How did you sleep?” Dean asked, sitting next to you. 

“Like a baby,” You mumbled, chewing. You could feel his eyes on you, as you turned to look at him, he was indeed staring back at you with a little smirk on his face. “What?” 

“Oh I bet you slept real good,” he teased. His deep and raspy voice was too close to your left ear, sending shivers down your spine, all over your body. You ignored it.

“What are you implying, Winchester?” You asked, genuinely confused, not really thinking about…oh. OH! You remembered. The dream. Maybe he heard you mumbling in your sleep. Do I sleep talk? You still played dumb.

“Dream a little dream of me and Sammy, eh?” His smirk was still there, you knew he wasn’t going to let it go. 

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” You replied. “Where’s Sam?” 

“He went Dora the explorer around the park.” 

Sam was both night and day. He enjoyed both darkness and light. The darkness was for reading and the light was for hiking and jogging.

After you finished breakfast, you poured yourself a cup of coffee that was now lukewarm. It still tasted like coffee when it touched your lips and still gave you that kick you needed. 

Dean was still keeping you company for some reason, he was close, too close and kind of getting on your nerves. You had a feeling he wanted to ask you something but swallowed all the words in the English language. You assumed what he was curious about, you just didn’t want to embarrass yourself. We are our egos after all, and in time we learn how to tame that part of ourselves and not let it control us. You weren’t going to blush and get flustered in front of Dean Winchester.

“What’s the plan for today?” You asked. 

“Did you dream about sleeping with me and Sam?” Dean evidently didn’t register your question. And he finally found the words. You choked on your coffee not expecting to be hit with a question. You didn’t expect that kind of question.

“You did!” He said as his face lit up in a second. 

“No, I didn’t.” 

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.” 

He was a child. A man-child. He wasn’t going to let it go, not until you confessed. Sighing in frustration, you calmly put down your coffee-stained mug and looked him in the eyes. They were beautiful, greener than the forest around you.

“I did,” you confessed. 

“Yeah, I know I heard you,” he smiled, showing off his perfect teeth. He was beautiful but you still wanted to punch him in the face. 

“Can I drink my coffee in peace now, please?” 

“Yes, you may, sinner.”

The embarrassment you felt disappeared as soon as you saw Sam coming back from his little, to quote Dean, ‘Dora the Explorer’ adventure, all sweaty and ready for a shower. You weren’t embarrassed, you were horny. 

“Morning!” 

“Morning Sam!” You spoke. 

“Sleep well?” 

“Oh yeah, you bet she did!” Dean told him. You rolled your eyes.

Sam gave him a confused look not getting the joke. He doesn’t know.

“Awful, your brother kept making happy noises all night,” you lied. Figured you would get back at him for being a dick. Dean’s mouth slightly opened. 

“Dude, gross!” Sam’s reaction was more than welcome considering Dean hadn’t stopped annoying you ever since you had a bite of that dry sandwich. Once he left to shower, you turned to his older brother. 

“Don’t fuck with me!”

***

The day was cloudy and cold. Some people were playing board games and listening to music, some were reading their favorite books, while others went to explore the national park. You immersed yourself in the book you were currently reading, while Sam and Dean played Monopoly under the kitchen gazebo that wasn’t just a kitchen, it had a space for everything; space where you could sit and relax, a table, and two couches placed right across each other. A multipurpose gazebo: kitchen, dining room and a living room. Well, Sam was teaching Dean how to play and Dean was losing and cursing every few minutes.

“You were never good with money, Dean!” You chuckled, eyes still on the page you were reading.

“And you’re loud!” He sassed. You lifted your head to look at him and he just gave you a wink. You knew damn well why.

You elected to ignore it. 

Soon enough, it was lunch time: delicious goulash and for dessert, a slice of apple pie. 

“Warrior food!” Dean said, stuffing his mouth. 

He wasn’t wrong. The food was fresh and absolutely delicious. 

“Do you guys want to play volleyball after we eat?” Sam asked. 

“You’re joking?” Dean lifted his eyebrow. “I don’t do sports and I especially don’t do sports after lunch.”

“Grandpa!” You said and told Sam to count you in. 

 A few minutes later, the bald, good-looking dude came to say there was going to be another party, from 7pm to when everybody goes to sleep. He also said there was going to be lots and lots of alcohol considering it was a goodbye party. Dean was excited, you were too busy reading your book and Sam finally bankrupted his older brother. 

You ended up playing volleyball with Sam for almost two hours. He asked the bald guy if they had any volleyballs after lunch and the guy was more than happy to be of service. There was a small chunk of land which they turned into a volleyball court, far away from people who were hanging out around the gazebo and far away from Dean who decided to take a nap after eating too many slices of pie.

“Are you enjoying your birthday so far, Sammy?” You asked as you served him the ball which, he slammed a little too hard and it flew across your head. 

“Oops!” He said with an awkward smile. “Best one so far!” 

“Told you!” You raised your voice going a few steps away from the court to get the ball.

As you were playing and growing tired, you couldn't help but notice how tight his black t-shirt was, perfectly hugging his body as he started to sweat. His hair still a little damp, slick back and tucked behind his ears, his lower lip between his teeth trying to concentrate on the ball in the sky – the man was simply gorgeous. It was hard to concentrate on the damn game when your mind wandered.

How does his lips taste? Does he have a big dick? Probably. The man is huge. FOCUS! 

So many questions and no wins.

After losing 3:0, you decided to take a shower and get ready for the party. You were in the mood to drink and not get nervous around both brothers.

It was getting cold, so after a quick cold shower, you decided to wear your favorite pair of gray sweats and a very old Led Zeppelin hoodie your dad gave you a long time ago.

People already started drinking by the time you finished getting ready. 

"Hey, nice hoodie you got there!" Dean commented as soon as he saw you. One of the things you absolutely adored about Dean was his awesome music taste. You were both old schools. 

"You've seen me in this at least a hundred times Dean!" You chuckled. 

"And every time I'm going to tell you how awesome it is," he said proudly. "Where's Sam?" 

"Showering." 

"Again?" 

"Yeah, you know Dean, after physical activity you get all sweaty and gross," you told him and took a paper cup filled with red wine from the table under the gazebo. Suddenly, the familiar melody of Toxic by Britney Spears blasted through the speakers.

"It was sweaty and gross alright," Dean joked and like always, you rolled your eyes, and took a sip of the wine. It wasn't too sweet and definitely was cheap considering how watered down it was.

***

After three cups, you grabbed your fourth one as your vision started to blur. Your thoughts were scrambled, between being nervous because of Dean's annoying teasing, and not giving a flying fuck about anything and just wanting to let loose, but there was a sense of tranquility in them. You loved the idea of him knowing your dirty thoughts, and you loved even more watching Sam being simultaneously confused and stunning while listening to you two bicker. The alcohol wasn't helping you. The undying need to be in a delicious Winchester sandwich only grew stronger with each sip…

You saw Sam coming from the toilet after the shower and something in you snapped. You swallowed nervously before chugging the rest of the wine and decided to toss all the fucks you had out the window. 

“Hey, handsome!” You said, seeing his face change from content to a little nervous. You'd never called him that. 

“Hey!” Was all he could muster.

“In the mood for a drink?” 

“Sure,” he said. “But only one, and I'm out. I’m tired.” 

“Okie dokie.”

Sam's drink of choice was beer. Dean was somewhere in the crowd, nowhere in your sight. Perfect.

“Cheers!” He said. No matter how big or small his smile was, his dimples would always show on his cheeks and you found it adorable. He was adorable and his lips were much more kissable after almost four cups of wine. 

“Cheers,” you smiled back. “To you Sammy!” 

“I didn't tell you but you're a solid volleyball player.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “A solid player? Really? You won 3:0.” 

“Well, yeah because you're short, and for some reason your focus was nonexistent but your serve was excellent.” 

“I'm short?” You weren't offended by any means, he was in fact much taller than you, but still surprised he said it so bluntly. 

“Short and sweet?” He corrected himself with an awkward smile before taking another sip of his beer. 

“Sweeter than sugar, sugar,” you didn't know where that came from. It sounded kind of lame, you thought, so you quickly changed the subject. “And my focus was nonexistent because of your sorry ass.” You said before playfully tapping him on his shoulder.

“Me?” 

Something about the innocence of that man made you absolutely feral. You had a feeling he wasn't so innocent behind closed doors. The idea of his lips on yours didn't want to leave your mind as your eyes couldn't stop staring at him with pure, drunken adoration. 

“(Y/N)?” 

You wanted to speak but something told you to not use a single word of the English language. Instead, you pulled him by his black hoodie and crashed your lips on his. Surprisingly, he didn't pull away, his body was stiff for a few seconds before letting go and deepening the kiss, making you balance yourself on your tiptoes. You felt him cup your left cheek with his free hand as you bit his lower lip, earning a moan from him. His nose crashed against yours, tasting alcohol mainly from your lips, Sam felt his cock getting hard. It hit him that he was wearing gray sweatpants so naturally that was a sign to pull away. People around you were too busy singing ABBA songs to give a fuck. 

“Well…” Sam said, not knowing where his thoughts were as he instinctively looked down and saw the outline of his cock. “Crap.” 

Your gaze followed and you were happy it did. He was big, bigger than you'd imagined.

"Sammy, is that a gun or you're just happy to see me?” You winked. That was horrible. 

“Shut up,” he sassed back, giving you a bitch face he would always give to Dean.

He covered his groin with his hands, looking around awkwardly to see if anyone was looking. Of course they weren't. Everybody was either drunk or high or both. 

Suddenly Sam's gaze was fixed behind you as he visibly clenched his jaw. You turned around and of course it was Dean.

“Oh there you are!” You said with enthusiasm and kissed him, pulling him closer by his jacket. 

Sam was stunned, while you could feel Dean smiling before kissing you back and letting you put your tongue in his mouth. You wrapped your arms around his neck and enjoyed the softness of his puffy lips on yours. He was a lot gentler than Sam – more innocence but still the same amount of passion. 

When you finally broke away, your drunk self just mumbled, “You two are irresistible.” 

Sam was still visibly confused while Dean couldn't stop smiling. 

[animehideout]

LOVE IS THE MOST TWISTED CURSE OF THEM ALL

Part Five

Gojo Satoru x Fem! Reader

Check part 6 here 🆕

Check part 4 here.

a/n: Hii, I hope you enjoy this part as well, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list 🫶🏻

if you have any ideas of details you want me to include please let me know and don't hesitate to share your critics it helps me a lot to better my writings <3

Music recommendation ♪ : SKZ- Taste ( Yes I am a Stay ♡ )

You shook your hand with Nanami's. Smiling softly at him.

“I see your wife is now playing your game..Gojo?” Said Mei Mei wearing an amused expression,

only earning a glare in return from the man sitting in front of her.

“Come on, don't tell me Nanami triggered your jealousy and protectiveness over your wife” she added.

“Im.Not.Jealous!! And.Shes.Not.A.Real.Wife” he whispered in an angry low tone.

“Hm then why are you so upset about it?” she asked sipping water from her cup.

Gojo leaned in and said, “because I want everyone to treat her poorly, everyone to belittle her and this guys over here shouldn't interfere or try to defend her like the gentleman he is– that's why I'm pissed...my plan is to make her life a living nightmare, and it shouldn't be ruined by anyone, especially Nanamin.. Understood now?”

“Understood” she simply said, looking forward for all the drama that she'll soon witness.

She was relieved that he wasn't jealous, Mei Mei desired Gojo since high school days, and him falling for you; his wife, is something Mei Mei won't allow.

......

“How long have you been teaching here? I haven't seen you around” he asked.

“Um– today is my first day actually” you replied with a hint of awkwardness.

“Oh I see!! good luck then I'm sure you'll do great” he encouraged,

“T-thank you” you stammered ,pleasantly surprised, a warm genuine smile graced your face.

Nanami is indeed respectful and considerate quite the opposite of some other dick that you're stuck with.

“Excuse me for my random question, but what Jujutsu technique do you possess?” he questioned completely oblivious of your situation.

You swallowed with difficulty, rocking your legs under the table in embarrassment. But why would you hide who you really are?

“I–I don't have any Jujutsu energy my situation is kind of complicated so...” you replied,

trying your best to hide your discomfort from his sudden question, especially knowing that your husband is sitting at the table next you and any vulnerability will cost you your dignity and pride.

“Oh I understand! but I'm sure you're skilled with weapon use. It doesn't matter if you have a curse energy or not what matters is the braveness you carry within you” he said and smiled,

he smiled for the very first time in years taking both Gojo and Mei Mei by surprise.

“Nanami smiling? if I knew he had such an attractive smile he would have been one of my preys” thought Mei Mei to herself.

The tables turned, and now it's Gojo's turn to sit and watch your cute interaction with his colleague. Having known Nanami for years, Gojo was already familiar with the way he treats women with ultimate politeness but in Gojo's eyes you weren't deservant of such treatment, he hates you and wanted everyone around to do the same, to turn against you until you feel excluded, until you give up on your job and the small circle you've built in two days. His goal is to make you experience once again the sense of isolation you've grown up with, and Nanami encouraging you was the first step to hinder his goals. That's why Nanami shouldn't get close to you.

...

It was the very first time you witnessed someone acknowledging your skills, someone comforting you and understanding that it's okay to not be a sorcerer. His genuine words touched your heart.

Uncertain how to respond a shy smile formed on your lips, his compliment felt like a gentle breeze that lifted up your spirit, making you forget about all the hate you have dealt with for years.

As the school bell chimed, signaling the break's conclusion, you rose to head to your next teaching assignment for the second years.

“It was nice talking to you, Nanami,”you said gently, keeping eye contact, which he acknowledged without breaking.

“Looking forward to our next meeting...after you” he said, stepping aside to let you walk ahead.

....

“Nanamin!!”

“Yeah Gojo what do you want?” Nanami replied with a sigh, irritated, since Gojo used to annoy him a lot before.

“Nothing much... but maybe next time, acknowledge my presence before chatting with her so casually.”

“Huh? she was sitting alone, and you were with Mei Mei. so what's your point? cuz i couldn't get it yet!”

“Listen, Nanamin, don't waste your time with her. She's–”

“Why would you say that? It's not like I'm trying to steal your wife or something!” Nanami interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

“I'd appreciate it if you don't talk to her again”

“She's a mature woman with free will. You don't get to decide who she talks to.. Excuse me now” Nanami asserted, and the walked away.

– Time Skip Night Time –

“Aah, what a day” you sighed, yawning as you began drying off, still wrapped in your towel.

The warm bath washed away the fatigue from a long day of teaching. Smiling at the memory of Nanami's words, recollecting his warm smile. Suddenly interrupted by a voice.

“I see you're happy?” came a voice that caught you off guard, disrupting your thoughts.

“Satoru? What are you doing here?”

“This is my house, or did you forget?”

A blush colored your cheeks as you realized being clad only in a towel that barely covered the length of your thighs, and his focused intense gaze didn't make things any easier.

“Watcha smiling at? don't tell me you're having those lovey-dovey moments where you have a burst of energy, kicking your feet in the air because you developed a crush on someone? is it Nanami?”

“What if it is? are you jealous? I thought you had plans to spend the night with Mei Mei. What brings you here anyway?”

“Oh, you gave yourself away... eavesdropping to my chat earlier?”

“Nah, wasn't really interested in what you said. You were just loud for some reason” you retorted.

“Getting more bratty by each day?” he remarked, taking a step closer as you instinctively took a step back.

“What do you want?” you asked, panic brewing inside, wild thoughts racing through your mind.

“Nothing.. Why do you seem uncomfortable? Is it because I'm getting this close to you? Is it because my fingers are now tracing your skin?” he teased, his fingers leaving a trail of delicate goosebumps on your exposed arm.

“Satoru!” you warned, air hitched in your throat..

“Is it because no one will be able to hear you scream, in this house of thick walls?”

“Satoru get away and- stop it with your g-games��� you stuttered as he tarped you between his chest and the wall. He could hear your heart pounding out of your chest.

“What if I dont? what would you do? stop me?” he challenged.

You tried to walk past him, but he was faster, he pushed you on the king sized bed, and crawled on top of you, making you disappear under his giant figure.

“What? I thought you wanted this from the beginning, I thought you wanted me inside of you huh? You wanted to make this marriage real dont you? so why are you fighting it back now?” he said calmly,

He held your hands above your head to stop you from pushing him and hitting his chest.

“SATORU GET OFF OF ME..I DON'T WANT THAT AND YOU KNOW IT”

tears gathered in your eyes, you didn't want your first time to be like this, hell no, it scared the shit out of you, and wanted nothing more than breaking free from his grasp.

“Are you crying now babygirl? I thought you were braver than this..”

“IM NOT CRYING...GET OFF OF ME NOW” you yelled and used your legs to push him away.

Suddenly, he paused and then started laughing hysterically,

“Y-you should have *laugh* seen the scared look on your face...that was hilarious” he continued on laughing,

and you were sat on the bed, fixing your towel looking at him in utter confusion. “w-what the hell?” you whispered.

He paused inhaling, “See how weak you are, unable to protect yourself..” he started, looking at you with dismissive glance.

”I.am.not.weak.”

“I could have broke you if I wanted to, I'm just not interested in fucking a nobody like you..” he spitted each word was thrown at you like daggers.

You swallowed your pain, choking on the tears that you've never allowed to stream.

“You won't.. and I'm not interested in even looking at some arrogant, power digger, empty shell of man like you” you fought back

“Empty shell of a man” echoed in his ears, the thing that he's always avoided, his emptiness, the void that he thought he covered with his strength, you cracked it. How did you even know?

“Why are you silent now Satoru? did I strike a sensitive nerve?”

“I am the strongest, meaningless words coming from a meaningless person won't affect me” he replied, eyes piercing through you..

“Enough with the strongest!! is it your only resort to defend yourself? to prove yourself? You're not special Gojo Satoru, people out there are also worth it, are also strong and talented , you're not better than them not better than anyone, yo–”

“In all the heavens and the earth, I Alone Am the honoured one..do you understand?” he spoke slowly yet with harsh tone..

a tone that sent shivers down your spine. You looked at him silently, his face inches away from yours, looking into each others eyes, his blue eyes; an ocean, a canva of hidden struggles.

If looks could kill, you'd be already sent to heaven.

“Do.You.Understand?” he repeated.

But all what you could do is stare,

“Say.It” he yelled

“no” you started “...in all heavens and the earth, I alone the one you can't control, Satoru” you added twisting his words, and used them against him.

.....

Satoru let out a short, mirthless laugh, the flicker of offense evident in his blue eyes poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue– but it's Gojo Satoru, he would never give you the satisfaction of actually breaking his ego, so what else he could do except flipping the topics.

“From now on I'll be sleeping here. Couch or the other room, your call, but this is my bed” he declared, breaking the silence after thinking he would really break you, from how intense the atmosphere was.

“If I were you, I'd find another spot. But if you stick here, you better sleep with one eye open” he added warning, taking off his shirt to reveal his toned back.

You swiftly gathered your belongings, exiting the room as he began unbuckling his belt.

.....

Sitting in the next room, knees to your chest, tears flowed silently. making sure the door was locked, you couldn't deny he had given you a scare. It was his plan all along, to frighten you, to make you feel vulnerable, proving he could easily assert dominance.

“I hate this. I hate you, Satoru.”

Taglist ✨:

@smolbeanzzz @eolivy @sanriosatoru @khaleesihavilliard @kiki17483 @ryumurin @tqd4455 @bookswillfindyouaway @kunikuzushisbeloved @numblytemporary @black-swan-blog27 @saiyara05 @sukunasleftkneecap @soulofendlessbook @haitanibros0007 @goldenjoyboyy @certainduckanchor @lorako123

@shervinss

@twitabread

@f1uveryysblog @sleepyyammy @allofffmypeaches @myloveforharrystylesneverenough

@olivianyx @inlovewithlondonn @wisepotato404 @butterskyy

[cryptcutiee]

Karma Is My Boyfriend

Pairing: Leon Kennedy X Reader (gender neutral) Synopsis: In search of good karma, you do a random act of kindness by paying for the coffee of whoever comes in behind you. That person ends up being a rather attractive man. Tags: Fluff, Comfort Warnings: Use of pet names (sweetheart, sweet thing), age gap (if you squint) Song: Karma - Taylor Swift Word Count: 1.6K Author's Notes: Ahhh hello Tumblr! I haven't posted any writing in a very long time. This is my very first fic on this account, but I do have more in the works. So if you want to see more from me or a part 2 to this, lmk! This is my first x reader story in years so comments and feedback is appreciated!

The day had barely started, yet everything that could go wrong was going wrong. Alarms you set decided not to go off. You had burned your breakfast. The hot water in your shower lasted a total of two minutes before it plunged you into an ice-cold drizzle. Clothes you wanted to put on had mysteriously vanished into thin air. You had dressed in attire you didn't want to wear when it started to rain as you were leaving. It was a bunch of little things adding up to a horrible morning. That didn't bode well for your luck today, which made you worry. Today was significant. You were waiting to hear back from that apartment complex. You needed to get approved for it. The current studio you were living in was crap, and this place would be a major upgrade. With how your day was going, your hope was at an all-time low.

This is how you found yourself standing across the counter from your best friend at the local coffee shop. They were a barista here, and although gossiping on work hours should be frowned upon, they always had time for you. Besides, it seemed slow today. Nobody was in line, and the few patrons lingering around were sitting at tables chatting or working. So you vented about your entire morning as your friend took down your coffee order. You got your usual which was no surprise. With the way your day was going, why would you try something new?

Your friend's eyebrows quirked up at how much of a nightmare your morning had been. "Sounds like you're having a bad energy day."

You leaned against the counter with a deadpan expression. "No shit Sherlock. Normally I wouldn't care, but I can't afford for today to be a bad day! At this rate, I'm going to get denied." You groaned. Anxiety was eating at you, and with how everything had been going, you had little faith in good news.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Your best friend pulled your attention back, "Thinking like that will just make it worse. What if you put some good energy out there, you know, like karma or something?"

You blinked as you took in their words. Karma? You understood the concept of it. Doing bad would attract bad, and doing good would attract good. A sigh left your lips as you stared across the checkout at your friend. "How do you suggest I go about that?" You're sliding your debit card across the counter as you stare them down, waiting for whatever idea they have.

Your friend put on their thinking face, and within moments their expression lit up with an idea. "What about a random act of kindness? You could pay for whoever comes in next!"

The idea rattled around in your brain for a moment. It wasn't like you believed in supernatural forces, but what exactly did you have to lose? "Fine, charge the next person's order to my card. Please don't make a big deal out of it though! I'm not doing it for recognition."

"You got it! Now go wait over by the pickup end. I'll get your order out."

With a nod to your friend, you moved over to the pickup area. Your fingers drummed against the counter anxiously. Eyes darting down to your phone as you waited for that email from the apartment complex. You could hear the bell on the door as you scrolled through your notifications. You listened to your friend speaking to what sounded like a man, but you kept your eyes stuck to your screen. He ordered a black coffee, and then your best friend said the words that made you focus more on the conversion feet away from you.

"I'm happy to say your order today has already been covered!"

When you looked up to see who you had paid for, you may have encountered one of the most attractive men you have ever seen. He had to be older than you, but he looked like he took care of himself. His shirt clung to his fit form, and those arms looked like they could pop a seam on his sleeves. Maybe karma did exist because the universe had just dropped this gorgeous sight right into your lap.

"Oh?" The man's low timber caused something to crawl down your spine. "By who?"

You could see the gears turning in your best friend's brain on how to answer the question. They knew what you asked for but could also witness your reactions from the sidelines. "By the person who ordered before you."

The man quickly put the pieces together, and his eyes glanced at you, the only person waiting for their order.

Mentally you were screaming and cursing at your friend for putting you in this situation, but at the same time, you were thanking them. As if to send the message home, they called out your name and slid your coffee order to you. Your eyes met his, and you felt your stomach do a flip. His eyes were breathtaking. If you looked too long, you thought you'd drown in them. With all the courage in your bones, you mustered an awkward smile. Hand reaching over to grab your coffee, you noticed out of the corner of your eye as the man moved toward you.

"Hey." A slight smile touched his lips as he approached, "Were you the one that paid for my coffee?" He knew it was you, and there was no point in lying to this stunning man.

"Yeah, I did. Don't worry. It was nothing." You replied, trying to shrug it off. "I just wanted to pay it forward. Trying to get some good luck." That same embarrassed smile glued to your face. Talking to this man wasn't in your cards today, but it was going better than everything else this morning.

"I can't just let you do that without introducing myself. I'm Leon, Leon Kennedy." Leon extended his hand out. Your own wrapped around his for a handshake while introducing yourself. "Why are you looking for good luck? Something wrong, sweetheart?"

Your free hand shot up in denial. "Oh no, nothings wrong! I'm waiting for an important email. It's to see if I got approved for this apartment I applied for." There was no reason for you to be telling Leon all of this. He was a stranger, but he was easy to open up to. "My morning was a disaster, and I didn't want the bad luck to continue, so my friend suggested I do something for good karma." You gestured to the barista in the background, your best friend. "Sorry, that all sounds a little silly."

"Not at all." The corner of Leon's lips lifts into a smirk." It's cute, honestly." Those blue eyes of his glimmered with interest as he spoke. It caused butterflies to flutter in your tummy. Suddenly your nerves aren't about the email. They're more about the man in front of you. "Do you have any plans today? I hope I'm not holding you up."

As fast as you can, you shake your head in response. "You aren't! I don't have anything to do today except wait." You watch as your friend delivers the black coffee Leon ordered. Their eyes glance at you with a knowing look. When Leon turns his back to them, they give you a thumbs up before scurrying back to the checkout.

"Then you'll let me repay you by grabbing dinner with me?" Leon grabbed his coffee, a sure look in his eyes. "It's the least I can do for a sweet thing like you, besides it'll get your mind off that email."

Did you just get asked out by some guy you bought coffee for? He was undoubtedly good-looking and had effortless charisma. Saying no would be a mistake. "Sure!" You automatically flush at how enthusiastic you sound. "I mean, that sounds like a nice distraction."

Leon let out a faint chuckle. "I usually get turned down. Maybe I have all the good karma today." Your eyes meet as he takes a sip of his coffee. "You like Italian? I know a good place, my treat."

"I do." Your lips curl into a soft smile. "Do you want to exchange numbers? Here." You open a fresh contact page on your phone and hold the device towards him. Your fingers brush against his as you pass your phone over to Leon. It causes a light blush to paint your features, and you can only hope he doesn't notice. As he's putting his number in, the faint chime of your notification tone rings out. 

Leon's eyes dart to the pop-up, and he grins. "Looks like I'm your good luck charm." He comments, passing the phone back to you. 

Your eyes automatically search the screen and see an email notification. The apartment complex approved you. A wide smile breaks out on your face. "I guess you are, Leon. Maybe I should keep you around." You can feel his blue eyes on you as you say that.

"Maybe you should." There's a beat of silence between the two of you. It suddenly feels like you got trapped in some romance novel. "So, celebration dinner then? Send me your address, and I'll pick you up at seven." Leon breaks the silence with that intoxicating tone of his.

"That works for me! I'll text you."

Exiting the coffee shop, you feel much better than when you arrived. Your newest contact, Leon, is on the screen, and you can't get that smile off your face.

Karma is the guy on the screen, coming straight home to me.

[bella-rose29]

Deck the Halls (and not your partner) - Part 1

Anthony Lockwood x fem!reader, enemies to lovers, fake dating, set at Christmas (because I'm feeling festive)

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: swearing, lockwood is an arse, so is the reader, it's enemies to lovers what were you expecting really, Norrie is alive for the plot, I am British so if you're confused about words then that's why, mentions of extended family members being meanies, I think that's it?

Tag list is at the bottom (it's getting too long to put up here now), and as always if you would like to be added to/removed from it, then ask here or send me a note! <3

series master list

"Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!"

It was safe to say that Y/n L/n was not having a good morning.

George had been watching her over the top of his paper while she paced the living room on the phone, his eyebrows changing between furrowing and raising as he tried to figure out what was happening with only one half of the conversation.

"Are you... alright?" He wasn't the best at this sort of thing, but when it came to his friends he tried to put some sort of effort in to show that he cared about them. Y/n huffed, pinching the bridge of her nose and looking like she was about to break into tears. If that happened George would have to go and get Lucy, because he definitely had no idea how to deal with Y/n when she cried. Normally he went and made her tea and plated up some biscuits, and she always accepted with a grateful smile and a lot of sniffles and let him leave again when he stood awkwardly near her, shuffling his feet on the spot.

He got the feeling that wouldn't be happening now, and he'd be held hostage instead.

"It's my mum. You know I've got this family Christmas thing coming up, right?" She paused while George nodded, taking her hand away from her face to see his reaction, then continuing on as she gestured wildly. "She seems to think I have a boyfriend, which I absolutely do not-"

"What, really?" George exclaimed sarcastically, pressing his hands over his heart in mock surprise. Y/n glared at him, looking incredibly non-threatening in her very jolly Christmas jumper. He resisted the urge to snort, knowing full-well that his friend spent most of the time complaining whenever relationships were the topic of conversation, since she couldn't understand why she was still single.

"As I was saying," another glare was aimed his way, "Mum thinks I have a boyfriend, and my aunt overheard her on the phone just now talking about my non-existent boyfriend, and it was Aunt Linda-"

"The one who gossips to everybody?"

"Yes!" Y/n jabbed a finger in George's direction, expression wild and fierce. "The one who gossips to everybody! So by now I think my entire fucking extended family and every single family friend knows that I have a boyfriend, who does not exist, and thinks that he's coming to our family Christmas in the middle of fucking nowhere!"

"I thought it was your childhood town?"

"Which is in the middle of nowhere! Genuinely nothing but fields and forests and the general countryside for miles and miles. Oh, and to top that all off, my cousin will be there-"

"The bitchy one who makes you feel like shit who you also thought wasn't coming this year?"

"Yes. Her. And Linda is her mum so Steph'll definitely know." Y/n finished, throwing herself into the sofa with a groan, turning over slightly, and screaming into a pillow.

George was about to stand up and head to the kitchen to put the kettle on (Y/n normally screamed not long before crying full-out) when Lockwood poked his head through the door, frowning at the sight before him.

"Everything alright?"

"Y/n's having a crisis. Fancy a cuppa, Lockwood?" George properly got up now, glad that another member of the household was here to deal with the situation. Lockwood nodded, then frowned again when he realised that George was escaping and shutting the two of them in a room together. Lockwood absolutely could have left anytime he wanted, but it was likely that Y/n thought he'd volunteered for the role of caretaker and couldn't leave without looking like an arse, or starting yet another argument between the two of them.

George breathed a sigh of relief, then made for the kitchen. He'd need a cup of tea in a minute when Y/n realised who was there to comfort her.

~~~

"The fuck do you want, Lockwood?"

"I- uh... what's... what's the problem?" His voice sounded pained, like he really didn't want to be in the room, and Y/n rolled her eyes.

"If you don't care, then leave," she said, attempting to hide the wobble in her voice at the thought of having to find someone to drag to her family gathering for three days, where she would be interrogated and prodded and poked and watched every second of every minute of every day, and criticised for every tiny thing she did. She was dreading it, really, but at least the third day would just be her immediate family and her non-existent boyfriend. The first two days would be filled with inquisitive relations that hadn't seen her since last year, wondering about her job and why she hadn't pursued something more stable, or asking about her love life (that was completely uneventful) and why she wasn't thinking about settling down.

Lockwood's frustrated sigh brought her out of her thoughts, and she pulled her face out of the pillow enough to see him clenching his jaw as he studied the wall with a lot more interest than it deserved. "Fine. Vent if you need to. Can I help at all, or are you going to get on my nerves until you leave?"

"Do you always have to be such a dick, Lockwood? Or are you like that because you're compensating?"

"Fuck off."

"Lovely comeback," she snapped, turning to lie on her back, staring up at the ceiling instead of at her boss' face. If she looked at him any longer she might bore holes through his head with the intensity of her glare. Neither of them said anything for a minute, the only sounds the clock ticking away in the corner, counting down to her imminent doom, and George in the kitchen making tea. "My family thing, this weekend. Everyone thinks I'm bringing my boyfriend."

"You don't have a boyfriend though."

"I know that, Lockwood. But my family think that I do have one, and now I have less than forty-eight hours to find one." She heard him snort, and squeezed her eyes shut in the hopes that it would block out his next words.

"Good luck with that. Maybe Kipps'll volunteer? He needs the free food."

"Can't you have just the tiniest bit of sympathy for me?" She pushed up, moving to sit and direct her frustration at Lockwood. "I am in a near-impossible situation here and you're being insufferable right now!"

"Maybe you should take Lockwood," George said, and Y/n jumped at the sound of his voice in the living room.

"Where the fuck did you come from?" she asked, already eyeing up the plate of biscuits on the tea tray. "Wait," Y/n paused as she properly registered George's words. "Take him?" Lockwood looked just as horrified by the idea of it, shaking his head frantically.

"Yeah. Oh, here's your tea, Y/n/n."

"What about you, George?! Surely you could come along and help me out instead?!"

"I thought I told you already, I'm going to my own family's house for Christmas. Lucy's going to stay with Norrie, and Holly's spending the holidays with her girlfriend. Lockwood's alone, in this big old house, and you've got limited time and also limited options." Y/n was annoyed at how right George was, but she wasn't giving in so easily. Not when giving in meant spending three days with the one person she despised more than anything in the world.

"Fine, if you have no other options by the time you need to leave, I'll go with you. But I will not enjoy a second of it if I do," Lockwood finally ground out, and Y/n had to fight back a look of surprise at his words.

"You- what?"

"It saves being in this house alone over Christmas. I've done that one too many times now, and at least your family will be a distraction. And," he added, "a great way to see all your baby photos." His smile was wolfish, and Y/n wondered how anybody ever found it charming.

"Alright. But I'm finding someone else, so it looks like you'll have to miss out on this one I'm afraid." Her smile was simpering, sugar sweet and sickly with how faked it was.

George looked between the two of them, then sank back into his armchair with his tea. "That's that sorted then."

~~~

It was absolutely not sorted.

Y/n was panicking. A lot. Apparently nobody fancied spending Christmas with some random agent for three days in the literal middle of fucking nowhere with her entire extended family, which was incredibly inconvenient for Y/n.

She now was supposed to be leaving in roughly two hours, and was frantically shoving the last few things in her suitcase while phoning anybody that she could attempt to pass off as her fake boyfriend.

Anybody that meant she didn't have to take Lockwood.

Perhaps if he wasn't such an asshole all the time, she'd be less reluctant, but since the first day they'd met he'd been rude to her.

It had been after a job, three years ago back when she was a solo agent taking any work that meant she could keep a roof over her head and food in her belly. Her night had been long, making her tired and weary with how much her bones ached, and she was hardly looking where she was going when she turned the corner onto her street, making her bump into a tall figure. Her first thought when the two of them stumbled away from each other was how gorgeous this boy was, and her second was how utterly awful his personality was. She had apologised before she could see his face, already muttering excuses and explaining her lack of coordination, but within seconds he was opening his mouth and talking, telling her that she should have been more alert and "could she not stand on his shoes, they're new" and she'd taken a proper look at him and decided that yes, he was pretty, but he was also not particularly nice.

Then a few months later she'd seen an ad in the paper for a small agency that had needed a new agent, preferably with strong Touch, and had chosen to go along for an interview. What she hadn't expected was the boy from that night to be the one interviewing her, and evidently he was just as shocked to see her, his expression quickly settling into a frown.

"No thank you. We don't want careless agents like you, thank you very much." His words had stung more than she cared to admit, making the backs of her eyes prick and her throat close up with emotion. She'd almost turned tail and walked out the door (something she very rarely did), but a girl dressed mostly in blue and with an excited smile on her face came in to the room, asking if this was their new recruit. Apparently the boy couldn't say no to her, or the other girl that appeared a few moments later with her clothes all neat and ironed, or indeed the other boy with glasses and curly hair who had ketchup stains on his t-shirt. Within minutes of the three of them arriving in the room, Y/n had a job at the company as an agent with a strong sense of Touch, and was being given a biscuit and a cup of tea.

She had quickly learned that the first girl was Lucy, the second was Holly, and the curly-haired boy was George, and then Lockwood had introduced himself as the head of the company.

"Don't you have... supervisors?" she had asked, confused as to just how this company worked exactly.

"No." His smile had been tight, and he had left the room right after, pushing past his colleagues and heading up the stairs. Lucy had been quick to fill in the rest, explaining all the answers to every question that Y/n had, with Holly and George chipping in when she forgot something.

Lockwood had continued his behaviour from that day ever since, despite Y/n's best efforts to get him to like her, and eventually after a few months of attempted friendship offers, she gave up and leaned into the whole hating each other schtick that was apparently happening.

So no, she did not want to have to bring Lockwood to her family gathering for three days and pretend to love him. She didn't want to do that at all.

Unfortunately, it was starting to look as though she wouldn't have a choice.

~~~

"Well? Please? Come on, I never beg for anything from you."

"I know, and I'm actually rather enjoying it."

"Prick," Y/n muttered, frowning at Lockwood. "You said that you'd do it if you had to. Well, you have to. So pack your bags and let's go; the train's in an hour."

"Fine. But I am not happy about this." He made his way back inside his bedroom, leaving Y/n stood outside the door (she refused to cross the threshold of this one particular room).

"Oh, because I am personally so ecstatic about this situation!" Her voice was thick with sarcasm, and Lockwood paused in his packing to glare at her.

"It's not my fault you couldn't find somebody to pretend to date you for three days."

"No, but I'll blame you anyway."

"Charming."

"Hmm. Hurry up."

"We've got ages, stop fretting like a mother."

"The train leaves in an hour, and it takes ten minutes to get there. Then you have to factor in maybe five to ten minutes of traffic, and difficulties getting through the gates at the station which is what, another five minutes? And then if there are any problems with the actual trains then we want to be early just in case so that a plan can be made to get a different one, and also if there aren't any problems then we at least want to be there early so that we can get on first and get a table. So no, we haven't got ages, we've got minutes before we need to go. Hurry up."

Lockwood had been staring at her in disbelief while she talked, his jaw slack and his eyes wide, but when Y/n glared at him again he went back to packing. "You really think that much about travelling?"

"There is so much that can go wrong with trains, so yes."

"Fine," Lockwood huffed, coming out of his room to cross into the bathroom, grabbing his wash bag out of the cupboard and shoving a toothbrush and flannel in. "Where's the toothpaste?"

"I've got some, so we can share. Trust me, you don't want to share with George. He's like a dragon with the way he hoards his toothpaste."

Lockwood gave her a weird look as he zipped up the bag, heading back into his room to finish stuffing items into the large bag he was taking with him as luggage. Y/n was sure he'd repurposed a kit bag for this, but if it meant she wasn't having to explain to everyone why she had failed at bringing a boyfriend that didn't even exist then she supposed she could forget about where the kit was currently being stored.

"Ok, I think that's everything," he said, running a hand through his hair as he stood up, yanking the bag up and over his shoulder. He was still in a suit, which Y/n thought was ridiculous since they didn't even have any meetings today other than the one with her family, and when they made it to the bottom of the stairs he grabbed his jacket and signature long coat. Y/n was already in her own winter coat, thick scarf wrapped around her neck and gloves poking out her pocket, her boots echoing throughout the building. They were the only two left now, since the other three had already left for their own Christmas celebrations, so Lockwood had to spend an extra minute finding the keys to lock up, and then another minute trying to put them back in his pocket. In the end, Y/n was so frustrated with how long he was taking that she snatched the keys from his hand and shoved them in the chest pocket on the inside of his coat, turning and dragging her small suitcase behind her into the pre-booked taxi.

"Sorry, he takes a while to do things every now and then. He's immensely stupid," she said, smiling at the driver as the man put her suitcase in the boot of his taxi. He looked concerned, frowning up at Lockwood where he was coming down the stairs, then nodded slightly, his expression morphing into confusion.

The drive itself was fast, and there were no problems at the station, but Y/n still couldn't help but feel that something would go wrong on their journey to her parents' house.

"The only thing that's wrong-"

"Don't say that, you bastard!"

"-is me being here."

"Oh. Well, that's true."

"Why couldn't you have just gone on your own?"

"You'll see when you meet everyone. Are you... will you be alright? I mean, it's literally everybody still alive in my family along with all of our close friends, which is near on fifty people, all in my parents' house."

"What are you trying to say?" Lockwood's expression was stony, and a coldness had come into his eyes that Y/n had only ever seen back when she was trying to be his friend and asked about his family. She had since learned that they had died when he was young, and had steered well clear of the subject afterwards.

"I just... it's a lot for me, and I do this every year. I can't imagine how awful this'll be for someone who's..." she trailed off, trying to find the right words.

"Who's family is dead?" Lockwood asked, more forcefully than he needed to.

"No, I didn't mean-" Y/n said.

"Sure," he cut her off, tone sharp and as bitter as the wind that was whipping around them. She tried to speak again, but he scoffed and turned away before she could explain what she had really meant by her words. Lockwood didn't seem to be relenting anytime soon, instead choosing to stare out at the tracks with a clenched jaw. The conversation died, and they didn't say a word until the train pulled up to the platform and they were attempting to find a good seat.

When they were finally sat down, bags secure and able to relax a little, Y/n sighed softly at Lockwood's still tense figure. He wasn't looking at her, which she supposed was a good thing because generally when he looked at her he was coming up with something rude to say. But if they wanted this to work, they needed to be talking.

And apparently, Y/n had pissed off her fake boyfriend.

Ugh, she thought. This is going to be a fucking shitshow.

part 2

Tag list (hopefully this is everyone): @anathemaloren, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @locknco, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @ran23sblog, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife

[rubra-wav]

Why So Blue? Vox x Reader

[ Part 1 - A Like Morning Unlike Others ]

A/N: I have a kind of loose idea of where I'm maybe taking this one, but I am very much open to any suggestions.

People asked to be tagged in what was going to be part 2 to the oneshot. My ideas changed a bit with this tho, and it's being rewritten as a fic from the start - sorry if this isn't what you really had in mind w that request 😭

[ Taglist ] @gigglesandshits @serendipitous-fernweh @valentinosbabycakes @ seriouslyaverage (won't let me @ ???)

[ part 2 ] >>

Cw: SFW, Gn!Reader, slight staticmoth reference

The morning you first showed up was like any other for the Video Star.

As always, Vox awoke at 7:00 am on the dot, staring at the ceiling for a couple of seconds as his system warmed up properly for the day ahead.

After the 'sleep' cleared from his mind, he sat up and then climbed from his bed to quickly change before swiping his phone off his nightstand as he walked to the personal kitchen in his part of the building (he had it installed so he didnt have to see his colleagues before his persona was up to snuff) and began scrolling through his emails.

He opted for those from Carmine rather than Velvette or Valentino.

It was frankly too fucking early to deal with whatever bullshit they were yelling about on seemingly all of his socials in his mind. (a decision he'd come to regret rather soon)

Last night's hangover still clung to him, but he pushed through it. He was rather happy all things considered. Carmine's email confirmed that she was on board with partnering up for personal surveillance systems without much questioning, thankfully.

He was about to get even fucking richer.

He grinned widely at the prospect as he leisurely made his coffee - black, naturally - fantasising about how he'd be able to spy on hell's citizens even more with them literally installing surveillance cameras into their own homes for security purposes.

Those poor, desperate idiots practically exploit themselves!

Vox chuckled at the thought, humming as he walked in the direction of his broadcast room, scrolling to look over the email Carmine sent once again to fully understand all agreements. To try to see what he'd be able to push her into doing potentially.

The hatch to his lair broadcast room opened loudly and closed just as loudly behind him as his footfalls echoed in the silent room against the cold tiles.

Vox didn't look up once as he made his way to his seat.

He didn't need to.

He knew where everything was in here as nobody else was ever in here. And if they were?

Well, those demons wouldn't be 'employed' much longer, we'll say that.

His seat squeaked as he sat on it, sipping his coffee as he swiped through some more notifications.

He glanced at his monitor momentarily as he took a deep sip of coffee that would gross anyone else out, then promptly choked on it, gracelessly spitting some onto his keyboard and lap.

He felt truly chilled to the bone for the first time in a long while.

Wide, red eyes watched in horror as a very drunk version of himself from last night met him. In the video, he was shaking his hips from where he stood on a bar while singing (he assumed) shittily if his memory served right.

The video was muted from where it played on the screen of every monitor in his room, but he expected it.

His frozen present self watched himself in the video as drunk Vox stumbled and then proceeded to topple off-camera to the ground.

His instant assumption was that Valentino or Velvette had posted it online, but that was quickly off the cards when he noticed that not only were both of them watching him while laughing with no phones in their hands, but it was posted from his own fucking Sinstagram account.

It already had over a million likes, and it'd been up for only an hour at this point. His colleagues wrote surprised comments underneath, asking if he meant to post it. Valentino adding that Vox looked cute in it either way.

He could feel his fear and anger rising, loud zaps of electricity emitting from him already as his claws dug into either armrest of his desk chair, leaving long scratch marks on them which exposed the padding within.

Then he read the bottom caption of the looped post of himself and fully lost it.

'For someone who talks so big about being ahead technologically, it was awfully easy to hack old Boxy here.'

Vox lets out a loud, enraged yell, slamming his fist on his desk, promptly causing himself to Bluescreen and knocking out much of Pentagram's electricity in the process despite not being plugged into his set-up.

-

On the other side of the city, you laugh loudly as you watch the press conference where the Tech demon overlord fought to clean up his image.

It began just a few minutes after you were exposed to Vox's rage in the form of your lights shutting off.

It didn't affect your setup, of course. A certain someone you knew had helped you craft it, and it ran on a different server.

While others were still waiting for their shit to get back in order after Vox stopped plastering his rather strained grin on every screen, you were watching the press conference in one window while admiring how quickly his men raced to try and patch up the code you'd gotten through last time in another.

Of course, it hardly would do anything for you the next time around you decided to clown on him.

You shifted into a cross-legged position on the floor, glancing between the mess of old and new monitors surrounding you all interlocking with equally messy and tangled cables.

You passively wondered if anyone had been killed during all this, expecting yes, but not paying much attention to it. You couldn't do anything about what he decided to pull in response to your attacks.

Anything for your entertainment.

You cracked your fingers loudly as you began to prepare for the next bag of shit you'd be leaving on his doorstep.

Snickering with a smile, you watched his hypnosis ability activate, manipulating everyone watching outside of your own eyes.

They would forget this, but you wouldn't. And neither would Vox. You'd make sure all of them remembered you eventually.

Snorts and giggles echoed out in the silence of your small, shitty apartment as you mulled over all the things you had planned for the next few months.

Jesus christ, this would be fun.

Yeah, this reader isn't a good person either. They just wanna fuck around with Vox as much as they can and don't care much who becomes cannon fodder in the process.

I was considering also writing pt. 2 into this as well, but I figured that I would do this as just a taster for this series starting for the first post. Pt. 2 will be soon 🙏

Why So blue Masterlist (not much here yet obv)

Main Masterlist

[adorerry]

A bouquet a day keeps the sadness away. | H.S 

Pairing: boyf!harry styles x reader  

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: you have been feeling a bit down recently so harry decides to add a special something into his daily routine in hopes to make you feel better

Warnings: tiny mention of depression at the start, PURE FLUFF! (p.s I literally know nothing about flowers, so hashtag don’t hate the flowers I chose pls xx) 

a/n: stay til the end for a surprise ;) if you would like to be added to my tag list please pop me a message in dm's or in my requests/talk to me box :*

With seasonal depression just around the corner, your moods have swooped down a load recently. Instead of going for your daily runs and gym sessions with harry, you stayed in bed and binge watched Netflix all day, crying over the smallest things ever and overall having no motivation to do anything. Other people might think it's pathetic, but Harry had immediately noticed your change of moods and knew he had to do something about it straight away. Even on days when u felt at your very best, Harry still managed to slip the odd compliment and reassuring quote in just to make sure you knew how much you meant to him. That’s when harry got the bright idea of doing something small for you each day of the week just to remind you how much he loves you and how proud he is of you. 

Monday. 

You woke up, mind groggy, rolling over to feel an empty space where harry usually lays. Rubbing your drowsy eyes, you opened them to see Harry's side of the bed neatly tucked in, pillows perfectly fluffed up, no creases in the sheet. Everything was perfectly in place except for him. Where was he?  

Groaning to yourself, you stretch your legs out of the bed and trapse along to the kitchen. 

Your eyes rapidly tearing up at the scene in front of you. A huge bouquet of sunflowers with a note peeping out from the top. 

“My sweet sweet angel. I'm sorry for not being there this morning when you woke up, but I had to rush to the studio. Duty calls... :( I hope you're feeling a bit better this morning, text me as soon as you finish reading this note. Let me know how you are! I got you these flowers as a reminder of all the happy times we have together. I did my research and apparently sunflowers represent happiness, and I'm hoping they make your happiness shine out. I’ll never fathom how you are mine; you are everything I ever hoped and dreamed of. Keep being your beautiful, pleasing self. Shouldn’t be too long... don't miss me too much. H x” 

Tuesday. 

Every Tuesday morning harry would go out for meetings with his team, so you weren’t really surprised when you woke up to an empty bed once again. When he arrived back home yesterday, he smothered you in kisses and cuddles while insisting you guys ordered a takeout and had a movie night and that’s exactly what you did. 

Pouring your milk, you heard the doorbell ring as you pranced over to the door not expecting any deliveries today. “Delivery for Mrs Styles?” The delivery man questioned. Your face immediately beginning to flush a red tone as you accepted the parcel. Mrs styles.. It has a nice ring to it you think to yourself as you open the box to yet again another bouquet of flowers with a note. 

“Hello baby, hope you're having an amazing morning. I also hope you didn’t mind the delivery man calling u Mrs styles... I really need to make that official soon huh. I’ll be home a little later today, please take care of yourself throughout the day. Maybe go for a little walk to clear your head? Mum said she will meet you if you pop her a text, maybe go to the small café you like? My treat ;) Hope you like the roses. They symbolise love, and that’s exactly why I got them. I love you so much you never fail to fill the empty gaps in my heart. See you tonight lovie. H x” 

Wednesday. 

Yesterday afternoon you spent it with anne having a catchup, both of you agreeing to go out shopping today, and last night cuddled up with harry in bed chatting about life and how the team was treating him. Surprisingly on one of your only mornings waking up next to harry, you were the first to be awake and out the house. Due to his busy schedule, it was another late night at the studio for harry but you didn’t mind as you knew he was doing things he loved.  

When you arrived back home you saw yet again another box waiting for you to open it and pick it up. Taking everything inside you let out a slight laugh as you opened the box to a huge bouquet of lavenders. Obviously, it wasn’t a bouquet without the famous note... 

“I hope you're not sick of my flower sending yet :( Woke up this morning and you weren’t there, felt a little deflated that I couldn’t smother you in kisses to wake you up but mum text me saying she took you shopping which made me feel way better. It’s so lovely seeing the two people I care for the most bonding and spending time together, and that’s why I've sent you these beautiful lavenders. They symbolise peace and you may be wondering why I have sent you flowers for peace? I want your beautiful body and brain to give you a break from all the stressful thoughts wandering them. I hope today brought you so much peace and I can assure you the future will too... I love you my precious girl. H x” 

Thursday. 

Surprise surprise, another morning without harry. This morning he left for training day with brad. You really wish you were there to witness harry in training mode but instead you found yourself once again opening another bouquet of flowers. 

“Hi lovie, this is a short one today. I'm sorry... This short note is worth it as tomorrow is unfortunately the last flower bouquet day. I know, I know I can hear your sobs from here but don’t worry darling it will all be worth it I just need you to trust me.. Which is why I got you freesia flowerers today. They symbolise trust and I'm needing you to trust me with everything you have. I’ll see you tomorrow, love you millions. H x” 

Friday aka The last flower day. 

You felt the bed dip as you made a lazy attempt to open your eyes as you felt the immediate kisses harry started planting all over your face. 

“G’mornin’ lovie. Y’gonna wake up for me?” he questioned swiping the stray hairs away from your face and tucking them behind your ear. 

“Mhm” you replied turning over and slowly dozing back to sleep as you felt harry pick you up taking you somewhere in the house. 

It took harry 10 minutes to wake you up, once he was successful you looked at your surroundings to see you were in the living room. 

“Got you a coffee anndddd your very last bouquet box” he said placing down both the coffee and box Infront of you 

“You really didn’t have to do this for me H.. but I really appreciate it so thank you” you leaned over to give him a soft kiss on the cheek as you turned back around eagerly opening the box to see what’s inside the last one. 

You opened the box to the most gorgeous flowers you had ever seen but felt a pang in your heart when you didn’t see a note, harry noticed your frantic looks as he reached over and grabbed a handwritten note. 

“I felt like a handwritten one is better for today's note, feels more personal?” he said with a slanted smile placed on his face. You began to read the note as you hear harry rustling around behind you. 

“Good morning gorgeous... I felt like a handwritten note was the better option for today. A week today will be our 5-year anniversary. I can’t even begin to thank you for all the astonishing things you have done for me these past 5 years, I most definitely wouldn’t be here without you, you are my muse... So, thank you thank you thank you. I really hope you like my choice of today's flower’s, il explain to you what they symbolise in a second. You have showed me how to love and what true love feels like, and I will continue giving you everything I have until my very last day on earth. These flowers are my personal favourites... They are called calla lilies, and they symbolise marriage. I love you I love you I love you. So, what I'm trying to say is...” 

“Y/n..” you turn around nearly giving yourself whiplash, seeing the love of your life on one knee your eyes start welling up as your hands automatically cover your mouth in shock. “Will you marry me?” 

You desperately nod your head as your head finds the crook of his neck while your tears find a home in his t-shirt. Secretly harry let out a few tears too but he would never let you know that. 

A/N again: Woweee if you made it this far hi! Thank you so much for reading this is my very first thing i've ever posted on this account, I'l do a small post soon introducing myself and what/who I write.

I DO NOT give consent to anyone reposting my writing and claiming it as theirs. I AM more than happy for you guys to reblog, add to reccomendation lists etc (this really helps especially as im a small account!). If you would like to translate any of my posts please message me before hand so we can chat about it!

I love you, stay safe, my messages are ALWAYS open dont be affraid to message me.. M x

[green-agent]

Crush

Jung Wooyoung x fem!Reader

Highschool au, Implied academic rivals to lovers.

Genre: fluff, crack, slight jealousy

W.C: 600

Warning: mentions of a playboy (not Woo) let me know if I missed something.

Note: Just randomly had this idea. I was having a long writer's block cus of Brewing Love Next Door so the series can continue later.

"You have a crush on her"

"I do not!", said a furious Wooyoung. Making Yeosang roll his eyes.

"then why are you so interested in her love life?", San added, slamming shut his notebook.

"Look, I just don't want her to date Jinwoo, okay? He's a playboy, she's gonna get her heart broken." Wooyoung scoffed.

"First of all, she isn't an idiot. Second of all, if you dislike her so much, why do you care if she gets her heart broken?" Said Yeosang in a 'are you dumb' tone, opening a book on Mathematics.

"And seriously, do you think she would want to date Jinwoo?" Mingi spoke.

"I mean... he's handsome. So…" Wooyoung mumbled, suddenly feeling insecure.

"and he has dated half the girls in our class. It's no surprise. Y/n, out of everything, knows good. I mean Ruka, her best friend at that time, dated Jinwoo and now? She hates the word love." Yunho stated.

"Ruka also hates Y/n, what about it?"

"Wooyoung, you just have to admit. The feeling you're feeling right now is jealousy.", Explained Mingi.

"I'm not jealous!" Wooyoung said a little loudly, earning a glare from the librarian.

"said every male lead after seeing the female lead with another guy." Yeosang stated with annoyance.

"And what if I do like her?" Wooyoung sighed, annoyed by his friends' nagging.

Yunho,Yeosang, San and Mingi exchanged victorious looks.

"Then you should confess" Yunho grinned.

"HELL NO"

"Mr. Jung, do we need to talk?" Said the librarian, glaring at Wooyoung, who quickly apologized and 'no'.

"hell no" he repeated.

"do you want her to date Jinwoo, then? No, right? Then confess" San said as if it was the most obvious thing.

A familiar classmate and friend tapped on Wooyoung's shoulder. "And who is it that you like?"

Annoyed, Wooyoung replied before turning around, "don't be oblivious, Jongho, it's Y/n-", and once he had turned around, he definitely didn't expect to see You. All grinning. How was he that big of an idiot to not differentiate between his friend and crush?

"you have a crush on me?", You said, grinning at him.

"y-y/n, what are you doing here?…" He stuttered, making the other four boys have a hard time not laughing.

"if you somehow managed to forgot, Wooyoungie, the library is my second favorite place in this school" You said, adding the nickname to tease him.

"and the first?" Jongho finally came back to the table with the book on Biology he was looking for.

"the cafeteria. But that's not what I'm here for. I was originally here to ask you out on a date. So, Wooyoung, wanna go out with me?" You said, loving the effect you had on him.

He was kinda... okay not kinda, but very red.

"date? Oh-um... y-yeah...sure, I'd go with you", he managed to speak.

"great, so I'll meet you this evening, at the Destiny Cafe. Like at...5?"

"sounds great..."

"I'll see you later, then. Bye!" You said, walking out of the Library with a proud smile.

And Wooyoung stood there, red. Blushing and smiling. Internally screaming cus oh em gee! His crush asked him out.

"oh my, Woo, she asked you out first!"

"yeah, you better not be a dumbass during the date"

"buy her flowers!"

"and if you have time, bake or cook her something delicious"

The four sentences were said by his friends, who said what, he didn't remember. He was too happy to listen.

You asked him out.

His crush asked him out.

If you are a reader of Brewing Love Next Door, I'm sorry to inform you but the updates will be very late. I'm sorry again 😔.

Taglist: none (send an ask or dm me to be tagged. Either in Ateez works, all my works or the TXT ones)

Divider: @cafekitsune