#consider this prologue material

[mossi-dreams]

christmas wishes.

The chill of December air is bitter and biting, even as far down south as Georgia. It’s Christmas Eve, and the city was bustling. Even in the corner of downtown that was tucked away from the ‘prettier’ parts of the city. 

Just outside of the local homeless shelter, in what could only be considered a ‘back porch’ sort of area, a man sat on the back steps, an overgrown ginger buzz cut accompanied by a similarly overgrown beard. His eyes scanned about, cold, calculating, he was watching, waiting for something… or, someone. 

A few moments later, a figure appeared, bounding out from some back alley and narrowly avoided slipping on a patch of ice. A younger woman in her late 20’s with dirty blonde hair from a not-so-great dye job that was hastily tied back, her natural blonde roots peeking through a muddy brownish-blonde. She carried two packs of cigarettes and a weary smile. 

“Got lucky, these were the last two.” The woman commented as she tossed a pack to the man, who caught it wordlessly, his eyes trained on her as she walked up the steps and sat down beside him, opening her pack and pulling out two cigarettes and handing one to him. 

It was a tradition, she’d never allow him to even open his pack before she shared the first of hers. The man grunted, and pulled out a windproof lighter from his worn overcoat, lighting the cigarette between the woman’s lips before lighting his own, and stuffing the little silver lighter back into his pocket. A comfortable silence fell over the pair for a few minutes, the man staring blankly ahead while the woman was looking at the sky. 

“You think it’ll snow?” The woman asked finally. 

“Maybe, dunno.” The man replied, shaking his head as he blew out a plume of smoke, amplified by the steam of his breath in the cold air. 

“I hope it’ll snow. Would make for a nice Christmas.” She replied, and the man grunted. 

“Hard to imagine anything making for a ‘nice’ Christmas.” He added, and the woman snorted, rolling her eyes at him. 

“You are no fun sometimes.” She sighed, taking another long drag from her cigarette, then nudged him with her shoulder. “What are you wanting for Christmas, hm?” 

“Some peace and quiet.” 

“Oh-” 

She fell quiet, taking a long breath before blowing out the smoke into a thin stream in the air. The moment lasted maybe two, three seconds before he sighed. 

“Don’t mean you, obviously.” He corrected, and she cocked an eyebrow. 

“Like I don’t talk your ear off?” She questioned. 

“You do.” He shrugged. “But you’re tolerable.” 

The woman gasped, delighted. 

“You think I’m tolerable?” She couldn’t help the shit eating grin that was spreading on her face. The man shot her a glare. 

“Don’t push it, Salome.” He grumbled once more, then shook his head. The woman, Salome, snorted. 

“Aw c’mon, Jacob. That’s like, the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me!” She mused, nudging him once again, this time with her elbow. The man, Jacob, groaned, and rolled his eyes. 

“That’s pathetic, really.” He said, and she snorted again, but added no comment this time, only a shrug. 

Silence fell once more, hanging around a few minutes longer, but Salome seemed to hate silence, and she spoke again. 

“Hey Jacob?” 

The man sighed. 

“Yeah, Salome.” 

“Do you have any Christmas traditions?” She turned to look at him, propping her elbows on her knees. Jacob glanced at her, his expression unreadable before he glanced away, contemplative. It was quiet again before he replied. 

“...No.” He said, and stuck his cigarette in his mouth to hide the grimace that was spreading. Salome's brow furrowed, but she didn't push. She knew better than to do that. In her mind, it was easier to describe making any sort of progress with Jacob was similar to getting a stray cat to trust you. She was persistent nonetheless, she had been for months now, and so far it was working in her favor. 

After another long beat of silence, she broke it once more. 

“I make a Christmas wish.” She blurted, and he panned to look at her, raising an eyebrow. 

“A what?” 

“A Christmas wish!” She repeated with a smile as she looked at him. “Every Christmas Eve, I think real hard, and then make a wish for the coming year.” She said with an all-too-proud grin, and he huffed. 

“Why not make it on New Year’s Eve, like a normal person?” Any insult in his tone deflected off of her as Salome shrugged. 

“Because I hate New Year’s. It’s loud and stupid.” She said, then stared him down. “Don’t say it.” It’s a threat, and he let out something similar to a chortle, lifting his free hand in defense. After they both calmed, he grunted, as if he was about to regret asking. 

“What’d you wish for this year?” He asked, entertaining her ‘tradition’. Salome hummed, taking a long drag on her cigarette before sighing out the smoke. 

“I dunno yet.” She said, “I haven’t thought of anything good this year.” She shook her head, and ended up shivering as a cold breeze blew through. 

“That so?” Jacob hummed, “Do these things usually come true for you?” He glanced at her, and she shrugged. 

“I mean, most years yeah. Like, the year before last I wished to travel, and I ended up in plenty of new places. And last year, I wished for new friends, and here you are!” She grinned, and he scoffed, rolling his eyes. 

“I’m not your friend.” He grumbled, and it was her turn to scoff. 

“Like hell you aren’t!” She shifted on the porch step to face him better. “I might not be your friend, but you’re my friend. It’s a weird two way street.” She said

 “Besides, if we weren’t friends would you have given me this to wear?” Salome questioned as she tugged on the grey sweatshirt with big black letters that spelled ‘ARMY’ across the chest she was wearing beneath her coat. Jacob rolled his eyes. 

“I want that back at some point.” He said, and when she moved to start taking off her coat, he scoffed. “I didn’t mean right now, Jesus. Don't need you freezing your ass off.” 

“See? Friends.” Salome grinned as she tugged her outer coat back on, and he groaned, rolling his eyes, mumbling a ‘whatever’ beneath his breath. 

And for the millionth time, it fell silent once more. This time, the silence dragged on for much longer, Salome in deep thought while Jacob was more than happy to absorb the quiet outside the sounds of the city, and he, too, started to think a little. And with a sharp breath, he spoke.

“... I used to spend Christmases with my brothers… before we were separated, ‘course.” He said, finally, staring straight ahead as he said it. He figured he could give just a little, in the spirit of the season or whatever lame excuse she’d pin onto his sudden generosity when it came to sharing more about himself. Salome looked to him, and her expression softened some. 

“Do you miss them?” She asked, carefully, like she were treading on thin ice. Jacob hummed, and nodded, blowing out a cloud of smoke. 

“Yeah… I do.” He replied, voice hardly above a mumble. Salome thought for a moment, then nodded to herself. She thought for a good, long minute before an idea struck her, and she perked up.

“That’s it, then!” She said, “I know what I’ll wish for.” 

He looked at her, and frowned. “What are you talking about?” He questioned with the world's most unamused expression, and she grinned. 

“For my wish!” She practically chirped it out as she stamped out the last bit of her cigarette onto the concrete step. “This year, my wish is for you to get to see your brothers again in the coming year… if that's okay?” The last part came out a little more tentative than she desired, but it was too late to take it back.

Jacob nearly laughed, and finished off his own cigarette as he shook his head. 

“You’re crazy.” He sighed. “You’re not gonna wish on yourself?” Salome shook her head in turn. 

“Nah, guess I don’t need the wish that bad this year.” She shrugged. He paused for a minute, as if thinking her offer through before sighing once more, and rolling his eyes in pure defeat. 

“Sure, what the hell.” He conceded, and she smiled, reveling silently in this personal victory for herself. 

“Then it’s settled. I’ve made my wish for the year, and you are gonna see your brothers again.” She declared as she stood. Jacob merely sighed and rolled his eyes at her once again before standing, and following her inside and out of the cold.

And for the first time in a long time, Salome was really hoping this wish would come true, and not for her sake. 

She only found out the success of her wish two weeks into January, when she woke up, and Jacob was gone, and the only thing he left behind was a note written out on a piece of notebook paper, folded and tucked hastily into her pillow. And after some courage and a good bout of crying over seemingly losing her only friend in this place, she finally opened the note to read it. 

‘ Salome, 

Thanks for the wish. Came true quicker than you were probably expecting. They came to see me, and to get me out of here. Must be magic or something. 

Don’t worry about the sweatshirt, maybe if we see each other again some time, you can give it back then… just wash it between now and then, okay? 

Take care of yourself.

Jacob’

[pigeonliker420]

whatevers wrong with this man i like it

[dabihawksluvr]

.: Bad Home AU :.

An AU where it's basically The Bad Place, but with Welcome Home.

The basic idea is - Wally and the others were once human, but each one was a terrible person and died as such. Each time Wally becomes sentient (i.e. remembers and realizes the truth), everyone starts brutally dying off one by one until only he's left...then the loop starts over. He's started retaining some of what's happened before in previous loops as well, causing him intense nightmares and events to happen even faster. He gets the help of a new neighbor (Tune Roller - my OC), who's just recently appeared in the current loop and seems to believe him despite his apparent (and very clear) insanity.

[pellucid-constellations]

Set in Stone

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: The Court of Nightmares is an evil place. Secret agendas, forced marriages, malicious intent; there’s nothing good or pure. But then Azriel finds you.

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Angst but just a little to start

a/n: hi 😌 please enjoy my random inspo after the mess that is my life happened. I plan to write more for these guys so consider this a prologue :)

Masterlist ♡

~~

Time moved slower in the library. 

People spoke quieter, the air stood still, dim sunlight stiffened in lines that cut across endless tables. 

There was no real reason for you to be here. 

None at all. 

You welcomed the faint buzzing in your ears anyway, relished in the quiet you couldn’t find elsewhere. Flipping the page and going to the next, you pretended you did belong. Maybe as a scholar or researcher. Maybe an acclaimed author. An inventor, entrepreneur, alchemist—anything but the bleak reality. 

You were stuck. So, incredibly stuck. 

The high lord was coming today. You knew if you weren't in the hall with your family upon his arrival you would get an earful, but it was difficult to pull away from your beautiful corner of the night court.

No one ever came in here, and if they did they were over a millennium old and cared only for the books on foreign policy and probably the torture of young children, if you had to take a guess. But there was plenty of enjoyable material lining the shelves. Sure, it wasn’t very joyful, but it was informative, and anything was better than listening to your father blab on about your marriage prospects—an uncomfortable conversation that was to come to fruition any day now. 

With any luck, your husband would be a merchant who traveled endlessly or a soldier whose life would come to a quick end, leaving you free of any wifely obligations. But luck was hardly on your side, and as the daughter of a noble you were expecting a husband of the same station. 

And dukes were the absolute worst, all self-important and stagnant.  

An unfamiliar echo sent your head whipping to the side before you could tame your reaction. The library door swung open with such force it sent dusty air flying past your face. Typically, the old men entered meekly, the hefty door difficult for them to open. The abruptness of this entry, the power that seeped across the threshold, had you standing and pressing yourself against the table in milliseconds. 

You weren’t a fighter. Women were not allowed to learn anything of the sort here. You briefly debated if your embroidery skills would be enough to pose a threat to this presence, but that thought wisped away with the flickering shadows twining around your ankles. 

You didn’t recognize him at first. The high lord and his circle didn’t come to court often, and even when they did, they stayed far away on the dais or slinked around in hallways threateningly. And this man especially—the spy—he was almost always cloaked in shadow. 

His shadows weren’t covering him now, instead opting to twist up your body in a terrifying display. Were they searching you? Attempting to suffocate you? Paralyze you? 

It didn’t matter much, not when the shadowsinger himself was standing before you, exposed and armed to the teeth, his amber eyes locked on your own widened gaze. 

Your breath came out in short pants, uncomfortable and hard to capture. Your knuckles went white against the table, and you were sure if you were stronger, fractures would have appeared in the wood. The edge dug into your back. Shadows continued to make paths up your skin. 

The spymaster didn’t look away. 

The trembling began. It started with your jaw, then your legs, and then your chest. Breathing became nearly impossible. 

“Take care of that.” 

The last time the high lord made his rounds in court, those words had been a death sentence. One the man before you had carried out. A simple flick of his wrist and shadows had encased the lowly merchant that had insulted the high lady. His screams still echoed in the hall. 

At least, they echoed for you. 

The merchant was not a good man. Most that resided in the night court were not good people. But death was easy to come by here, and the shadowsinger—with his glaring siphons only inches away—was an executioner. 

Your life was little, meaningless, no direction or purpose other than marriage and continuing a family line, but you wanted to live for the chance of more. For the hope that one day, you might be free of this dank palace. 

Something softened in the spymaster’s eyes, and then he took a step forward, edging his hand towards you, palm up. The screeching of the table at your back made him halt. Your knees were shaking, your book now toppled over to the floor, and the shadows had refused to answer the call from their master. But you stood your ground, expecting a bruise where the table connected to your skin. 

“I apologize,” the Illyrian spoke, causing you to flinch once again. His own features seemed to recoil, and he took half a step back. “I am here on business for the high lord. I only seek the artifact room.” 

If you answered him, perhaps he would spare you. 

Your mouth opened and closed several times before the first sounds left your lips. “In the back. B-by the archives.” 

He nodded, but the action seemed delayed, slowed. As if he was measuring your reactions, trying to anticipate them. When you didn’t flinch again, he sent his hand out once more, this time with more force. Your breath caught, but when the shadows retreated from your body, some of the tension left you. 

The shadowsinger sidestepped, taking the longest route possible around your table toward the artifact room. Once his back was turned, you scrambled. You left the book spine up on the floor, quickly gathering your belongings with shaking hands and trembling fingers. The echoing of the man’s heavy boots rang with each step he took, but it was reassuring—it meant he was getting further and further away. 

It wasn’t until your hand met the sturdy door that fear crept back along the edges of your chest. 

“Your name?” 

The words were powerful, gravelly, but they were soft somehow. Effortfully tamed. 

You gave him your name, but the sound was lost in the swinging of the door.

[am-i-interrupting]

Can’t Go Back | Silco x Reader

Prologue

Summary: You had a long, complicated history with Silco before he became the Eye of Zaun. You thought you’d buried it a long time ago. It all starts to re-emerge from the ground when Vander dies and Powder is found in the hands of Silco.

Life in the Undercity was anything but easy. Never had been, never would be. Things never changed down there. It always stayed the same despite being at the foot of the City of Progress. Piltover kept up with all the new trends but never tried to change or shine their shoes.

No, life was almost guaranteed to be dictated if you were born in the slums. Few ever got to a place where they saw the sun instead of smog.

No one cared about you if you were a child. You didn’t get any type of education. You just had to grit your teeth as you stumbled through life hoping to find something, anything.

When you were fifteen you got sent to the mines. They put a hammer in your hands or gloves on them and you were sent to harbor materials for a city that didn’t give a shit about you for fuck all for pay. Sometimes you made it out. Sometimes you didn’t.

You were considered a lucky one. You grabbed onto every rock and stone and placed your feet in any divot you could. You didn’t care that your hands were scrapped and raw. You were leaving a blood trail for anyone to follow if they could.

What you had on your side was that you were a smooth talker. Able to make people relax and enjoy your company was an art form you worked very hard on. It was the only type of study you ever did.

The good thing about Piltover not giving a shit though is when you disappeared from the mines with no trace, they didn’t bother looking for you. Took the words of the people who said you probably up and died or some shit.

Now you just needed to avoid the swipe of the hands that picked people off the street and beat them until they were submissive. Enforcers didn’t care what you looked like, who you were, how nice or kind (though few were down here), they just wanted you to work and they’d do it by any means.

Babette took good care of her workers. She scared the daylights out of you when she scouted you. Taking notice of how you managed to sweet talk a man down on his prices while simultaneously swiping some things from his stand without him noticing.

She had watchful eyes though. She saw things that couldn’t even be seen. That day she had seen something no one was supposed to but instead of turning you in like some would, she offered you a job of sweet talking.

Babette’s had a bathing room. It was filled with fancy soaps and hair products, stuff for calluses and skin. All of it was stuff you’d never used before and didn’t know how to.

The older woman had no qualms showing you how.

With bubbles in the tub and floating through the air, she dipped her wrinkled hands in the water with you, getting them wet. She flipped a cap open and poured a thick, white substance from the bottle. Rubbing her hands together it almost disappeared. Then she started rubbing it through your hair.

She explained that the solution was to be left in your hair for five minutes before rinsing it. In that time she handed you a fabric scrub to use on your body. After scrubbing every inch of your body, it was time to rinse out the conditioner.

Babette handed you a towel to dry yourself with and then ordered you to sit as she grabbed a smaller towel. She used it to scrunch up your hair, stopping the dripping from trailing down your back.

You let her careful hands travel across the planes of your face as she placed different cleansing and moisturizing products on your face.

By the end of it all you understood what she meant when she said that this was not just for the clients but for you as well.

With a giant weight off your back and a steady income from nights spent at her brothel, you were able to ditch the mines. Do a big fuck you moment of victory and renting an apartment under the table when you stopped paying your previous rent. That way when they looked for you as much as they would, all they would find was an empty apartment in disarray. Made to look like there’d been a struggle. You had no qualms cutting yourself to splatter some blood around.

Babette had qualms though, shaking her head the next time she saw you as she put an antibiotic on your open cut.

With a new job, you had a new income but the only reason you’d be able to leave the mines was the money you’d saved while working there. That meant a new job.

It came in the form of a bartender job at a bar called The Last Drop. It was a small, quaint little place. As soon as you walked in you felt a warmth so rare in the Undercity.

A man, a tall man with a square face to match his broad shoulders and physique was the man training you when you started. His name was Vander.

He teased you the whole night with smart quips in his soothing low toned voice. The two of you bantered with costumers together with ease. Him poking at your lack of experience behind a bar to which you’d respond with a clever quip and the abilities of someone who was a very fast leaner.

You didn’t notice a man sitting in a booth who normally sat at the counter but Vander did. He noticed a careful study being conducted of the new meat in the building.

Little did you know that both these men would change your life. For the better? For the worst? Didn’t matter. It’d be changed.

[moog-rt]

GO TO HELL [ch. 1]

[Lucifer Morningstar x Fem!Reader]

Previous: Prologue

➨ Chapter One

Next: Chapter Two

Premise:

You love your friends. You really do. But sometimes it needs reminding when one of them accidentally sends you to Hell.

Despite falling into the hands of Hell’s loveliest princess, finding a way back to the world of the living proves difficult as you tiptoe around its king.

Warning(s): blood, gore, cannon-typical violence

If you'd prefer to read on Ao3, here is the link:

Otherwise, enjoy!

♡ ♡ ♡

CHAPTER ONE

Your head throbbed, and cradling it with your hand only turned it into a piercing pain rather than dulling it.

You were careful as you worked to stand up. It was hard to grab hold of anything sturdy enough to support your weight, and upon closer inspection, it turned out you were taking a power nap in a pile of garbage. And, boy, was that shit rank.

You stumbled your way onto solid ground whilst picking gunk-covered plastic from your shirt and hair.

The surroundings that greeted you were unlike anything you could imagine. The sky appeared polluted with red smog so thick you couldn’t see the sun, though it didn’t smell like the kind of pollution you were used to. Rather than chemical, it stank of smoke and decay.

Every breath you took of this new atmosphere felt thick and raspy. You weren’t sure you could really even consider it breathable. You were probably inhaling a handful of carcinogens by the second.

From what you could see through the gap of the two buildings that made up the alley you were in, there was a city. It was as if the materials of the buildings were selected to complement the sky. Everything was a different shade of red or burgundy. The plumes of smoke that tunneled up in the distance were mildly concerning, though they didn’t seem to be an immediate threat.

It was all enough to drive a clear sense of dread through your gut. No way in Hell were you supposed to be here. You should be on your way to Devon’s place- No, you were at Devon’s place, in their living room.

And now you were…well, you didn’t really know. That was kind of the problem.

The panic only truly set in after you tripped, scraping your knees on the filthy cement. You didn’t want to know what caused that dark brown, slightly chunky stain. Turning to face the lump that caused your stumble, your stomach plummeted. Face paled.

That was a corpse. A whole not-so-human corpse. Mangled and lying motionless in a pool of blood that was beginning to dry.

In an instant, you threw yourself off of the ground, backpedaling away from the body. What on Earth could have caused their limbs to bend in so many directions? On second thought, you hoped it would stay a mystery.

You couldn’t ruminate on it for long before you felt something large grab your shoulder, hoisting you around so your back was facing the alley. You winced as the grip grew tighter and looked up to see a green-skinned man with jagged teeth protruding from his mouth. 

In that instant, it felt as if your heart had been launched a thousand feet in the air.

His pitch-black eyes narrowed as he leaned closer to your face, and you couldn’t bring yourself to move or utter a single word. His grip moved to your neck, turning your head around so he could see you from every angle. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any more uncomfortable, he brought his nose to your cheek and inhaled deeply.

“A human,” he said in a grumbly voice. You could see a corner of his lips curl into a wicked smile. “That’s a first. It’d be a shame to let you go to waste.”

Go. You had to go.

To have a freeze-response in a situation like this was a death sentence. You hadn’t the slightest clue what this man’s–this thing’s–intentions were with you, but you had an inkling that it wouldn’t be pleasant.

You had to move. Even if it was just an inch, just enough to convince yourself that you still could. You would take either fight or flight over this.

“Is that soul still living?”

Your eyes flicked over to the source of the new voice. A tall, reptilian-looking creature with eyes that seemed to be bugging out of its head. They were no more comforting than the man who was only a few inches away from strangling you.

“Fuck off! I found ‘er. She’s mine!” Apparently, the lizard-man was enough to draw your assailant’s attention away from you.

Lizard-man did not in fact fuck off. That response was the confirmation that only further drew him in. Looking around, you noticed other inhuman creatures turning their attention toward the three of you.

The lizard-man made a sudden lunge for you, digging claws into the green man’s arms. He hollered out in pain with an endless string of curses.

In that moment, you felt his grip on you loosen, and you dropped to the ground like dead weight. This was your chance. Likely your only chance before both of them pounced on you at once. Maybe more by the looks of the other creatures closing in, as well.

Relief washed over you as you slowly moved your arm to push you up. The mental confines over your body had been released, and just in time. You were able to clumsily roll out of the way as the men threw each other to the ground, and with wobbly legs, you promptly hauled ass out of there.

You could hear screams of rage and surprise as you shoved through the people on the street, apologizing occasionally. You could feel dozens of pairs of eyes burning into the back of your head, and you were almost certain that some had given chase.

The odd buildings blurred past you. You may have caught a glimpse of a shop with televisions on display and another that looked as though human limbs were hanging on meat hooks, but this was no time for window shopping. All of it caused your head to spin from both physical and emotional whiplash.

The first corner you turned revealed a massive light-up sign that towered above everything else with text saying, “Welcome to Hell.”

What kind of twisted joke was this?

You ducked into another alleyway. Nobody was around, but you could still hear yelling close behind you. Your heart felt as though it stopped for a second as you took notice of a massive barricade blocking off the only exit. The first sliver of your luck finally showed itself to you in the form of a small gap that could be just big enough for you to fit.

You were forced to slow down in order to wiggle your way through it, allowing your pursuers to catch up. Just when you thought you had cleared the blockade, that big green hand wrapped around your ankle, yanking you back.

You cried out and pulled as much as you could until your foot slid out of your sock, successfully freeing you. Padding barefoot through this wretched city wouldn’t be pleasant, but you were sure it was better than whatever those things had planned for you.

As you pushed back into a sprint, you heard the green man’s voice screaming at the others about how he wouldn’t let them through before him. That was fine by you. He was much too big to fit through that hole, and you doubted he could scale the wall completely. If he was dead set on not letting anyone pass before him, then you probably had all the time in the world. Even so, you wouldn’t feel safe until you could get as far as your legs could carry you. 

So, ignoring your burning lungs and pounding heart, you pushed forward. Through the streets that grew more and more disheveled, collapsed buildings, cracked and upheaved asphalt roads. The lack of shoes only made it that much worse as your feet were getting sore. You were slowing down, but you refused to stop until you found someplace suitable to take refuge.

After the last main row of the city, there was a hill. And on top of that hill, there was a hotel.

Or so the sign on it said. Happy Hotel.

You could tell it was probably supposed to light up, but it wasn’t on, either because it was daytime (you assumed) or the bulbs were burnt out. Both seemed equally likely. The place was massive but appeared to be a hodgepodge of things all shoved into one, a cruise ship crashed into one side, a train on top of the roof… But despite its general run-down appearance, the stained glass windows remained untouched as if they were brand new.

It would be a gamble on whether this place was inhabited or not, but at least it was out of that shit show of a city. Probably the safest thing you’d come across thus far.

Besides, it was a hotel. Maybe you still had one of your cards in your pocket. If not, there was always Apple Pay, right?

The final push up the hill really did you in, leaving you panting and covered in sweat at the front door. You were dying to sit down and rest, but you wouldn’t feel comfortable doing so until you were inside. 

Seeing the building up close left you even more confused about whether or not the place was still running. The majority of the double front doors were stained glass with an apple shape in the center of each. It was quite beautiful. But at the same time, the edges of the frame appeared chipped and rotted, showing the building’s true age.

You were just thankful when the door creaked open without a fight. You didn’t want to resort to breaking in through one of those wonderful windows. With how loud it would be, you might as well scream out your arrival.

Aside from some of the detailed woodwork and repetitive apple iconography, the inside of the hotel was a bit sad to put it frankly. Little to no furniture. Cobwebs coating everything. The chandelier holding on by a thread (maybe the cobwebs were preventing it from falling). There was a minifridge, though!

You couldn’t imagine you would be lucky enough to find a cold bottle of water in there, but you decided to check to be sure. The cool air alone, wafting out as you opened its door, alleviated some of your discomfort. Unfortunately, there was no water or any beverage, for that matter. Inside were a couple of applesauce(?) cups and a styrofoam take-out container.

The fact that there was anything at all was concerning as it was a bit of confirmation there were already inhabitants. You would need to keep looking for a safe place to stay unless they ended up being the odd few in this town that weren’t out for blood.

On cue, cool metal prodded the back of your neck as you were closing the fridge, and you froze.

“What are you doing here?” asked the person behind you. Their voice was cold and harsh, and it made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. So much for going unscathed.

“I was just looking for somewhere to rest. I’m sorry for intruding,” you said just above a whisper, raising your hands instinctively. 

“You want to stay here?” a chipper voice cut through the air, echoing a bit in the large, empty foyer. They sounded almost happy you were trespassing. “Vaggie, this could be our first guest!”

“Babe, the hotel isn’t even open yet,” the first voice sighed before the metal was pulled away from your skin. You took that as an invitation to turn around.

Before you stood two young women–you’d guess late teens or early twenties. They were the most human-like people you had the pleasure of coming across since waking up in a hot pile of garbage. The only thing that threw you off was their grey and porcelain white skin tones. It was as if they were pulled out of a black-and-white movie from the ‘50s.

You’d take what you could get at this point. At least they didn’t have scales.

“We’ll just have to move up our grand opening then,” the taller girl sang with a wide, sharp-toothed grin. She bounded over to you, squatting down to meet you at eye level. “Would you be interested in a shot at redemption? It doesn’t matter what you’ve stolen or who you’ve murdered. Everyone deserves a second chance!”

Was this chick for real? What did redemption have to do with a hotel? And why would you need to be redeemed?

Your mouth hung open as your eyes bobbed between the two strangers.

“Wait a second…” The shorter girl–who you realized was the one holding a fucking spear to your neck–suddenly went wide-eyed. “You’re a human. Jesus, she’s a human!”

The blonde stared at her for a moment before turning back to you with knit eyebrows.

“Really? How do you know?” she asked with a tilt of her head as her eyes darted all over you, looking for some tell-tale sign of your humanity.

In what world is it surprising to see a human? You hadn’t been shipped to Mars. That you were certain of. 

Then you came to your own realization. 

Devon must have drugged you! That was the only way this could make any sense. Was it acid? LSD? You’d have to ask them after you sobered up. Or maybe after you wring their scrawny little neck, because the therapy you’d need after this was sure to cost a fortune.

The hand that landed on your shoulder caused you to flinch. The shorter girl–Vaggie–was kneeling in front of you now. Her touch was delicate as if she was worried she’d break you if she put enough pressure. A stark contrast to the way she treated you a minute ago.

“How did you get here?” she asked in a much softer tone than earlier.

You let out a huff of air, a sorry excuse for a laugh. You smiled, shaking your head as your body slumped back against the fridge.

“I don’t even know where here is,” you laughed. “I was in my friend’s apartment one second and being hunted down by a mob of demons the next.”

The two exchanged a look before helping you to your feet. They settled you down on a couch, one of the few pieces of furniture they had, and got you a glass of water to sip on. The scrapes and cuts you had gotten during your chase, or possibly before it, were treated to, as well. The foot that lost its sock was particularly nasty.

They introduced themselves and explained that you were in Hell. You reckon you should have figured that one out from the big-ass sign you saw while running for your life.

In return, you told them the last few things you could remember before ending up here. Helping your friend with a demon-summoning ritual and getting dragged through a glowing hole in the ground as a result.

“Sounds like that backfired a bit,” Vaggie said. You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Yeah, a bit. That’s what I get for doing my friend a solid, I guess,” you shrugged, leaning back as you gulped down more of the water. 

“Oh, don’t say that. At the end of the day, you helped a friend, and you found us! And we’ll definitely make sure you get home safe and sound,” Charlie grinned as she gently placed a hand on your knee.

You gave a small smile in return. You’re not sure how much you believed in her words, but it was sweet of her to try to reassure you. Her hope was almost infectious, and you could use as much of that as you could get.

“Also, you’re totally welcome to stay here for as long as you need! We’ve got plenty of rooms, and I’m sure we’ll start getting more furniture soon, and if there’s any food you’d like us to get, we can–”

“Baby, slow down,” Vaggie chuckled.

“Sorry…I guess I’m just really excited. You would be our first guest, and I’ve also never seen a human other than my mom before, and even she’s a special case…” Charlie said, looking off to the side as she brushed a blonde strand of hair behind her ear.

“The only humans we technically have are the ones that die and are deemed sinners,” Vaggie explained. “But they take on a new appearance. Usually, it reflects something within their soul.”

Huh.

“That’s…interesting,” you said, eyebrows tightly furrowed together. What does being a lizard man say about that dude’s soul? And what about being green? Maybe it was his favorite color? Or maybe he was green with envy. Haha.

“So what do you say?”

You looked at Charlie to see her holding her hand out to you. If the two of you were making a deal, she wasn’t really getting anything out of it. It was pure charity work…

“Please, let me know if there’s anything I can do for you in return,” you said, taking her hand.

With that, the two young women gave you a brief tour of the hotel. It was still a work in progress, but you could see Charlie’s vision. If they just cleaned it up a bit and filled in the space, it would look livable. You would be more than happy to help with that if you ended up spending enough time there, though you hoped it wouldn’t take that long.

If you weren’t back soon, your place would start getting cobwebs. You also couldn’t miss too many days of work…PTO wasn’t infinite, and you had bills to pay. Your coworkers would also have it out for you if you left them short-staffed.

What if they started putting up missing flyers? Hopefully, they wouldn’t blame the coworker you convinced to go home early. She was the last person you were spotted with in public, after all. No one knew you were going to Devon’s, so it was unlikely they’d take the blame.

Maybe the guy you had been in a situationship with for the last several months would be their suspect. Most of your friends knew all about him (primarily because you’d bitch and whine so much), and it’s not uncommon for people to point fingers at the ‘partner.’

He raised a few red flags here and there, sure, but what man hasn’t? None of them were even close to kidnap-murder level. Mostly just picking his toes in public and swearing on his life that his exes were the crazy ones, not him. Nothing necessarily surprising.

You needed to stop worrying and start embodying Charlie’s confidence in the situation. You would find a way to get back. You would not be stuck in Hell long enough to raise alarm. You just had to manifest it!

Eventually, your hosts showed you to the room you could stay in. It was one of the few furnished ones besides their room at the moment. They also gave you a change of clothes after realizing just how dirty (and smelly) yours were after waking up in a trash heap. Plus, you had two socks again!

You met back up with them in the foyer when you were finished. They wanted to discuss possible ways you could get out of Hell, which you had absolutely no problem with. The two of them brainstormed for a bit while you just sat back and listened in. Vaggie brought up that some upper-class ‘hellborns’ had ways in and out of Hell, but she didn’t have any specifics.

You felt bad not contributing, but what did you know about traveling between the living world and Hell? Jack, that’s what. 

“Do you think your dad would know? He’s probably had to get to Earth for some reason or another, yeah?” Vaggie asked, but she was met with a grumble of a response.

“I don’t know…” Charlie said with a frown, all her hopeful energy zapped away in an instant. “He’s never been super helpful with stuff like this.”

“Come on, babe. If anybody would know, it would be him,” Vaggie pressed. “He’s gotta have something we could use.”

Charlie simply groaned as she threw her upper body over the arm of the sofa and sat like that for a minute or two. It was possible that she wasn’t on very good terms with her father. Or he was just exasperating to deal with.

You sent a worried look at Vaggie, because what were you supposed to do in this situation?

“Okay, yeah. We can swing by my old house tomorrow and poke around,” Charlie said as she stood up.

“Great, but you,” Vaggie jabbed her finger in your direction. “Get ready to wake up bright and early. We’ll have to make you presentable first.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Next Chapter

[couch-potato28]

Imagine being a Blue Lock manager! ⚽

Prologue

(a/n: Hey everybody! First time writing here, so please 🙏 excuse my poor looking posts and grammatical errors /let me know if u see any!!/ English is not my first language so pls take that into account O.O tyy ❤️) WARNING!-there's i think one swear word

wc: 2.8 k words im sry really, like i yap a lot 😭

ALSO: please let me know if you're interested in the continuation

Imagine that in addition to your logical thinking, communicational skills and physical performance, Blue Lock also tests your mental health, because if you excel in these 4 areas, you might be worthy to become a manager of one of their players. However, competing with 199 other girls who are going through the same ordeal, let's admit, doesn't really calm your nerves. But how did you even end up in Blue Lock in the first place?

—————— Saturday morning, sitting in the corner of a nearby coffee shop, with your books open, laptop fully charged, your phone on silent mode with of course, a cup of caffeine on the side, you are ready to conquer those history notes. You had already started to memorize everything the previous week, so today was really about practicing and revising. After cracking your back and sipping some coffee, you began reading the first few lines on your laptop, occasionally peeking at the highlighted parts of your book in case you got stuck.

Time passed quickly, and when you looked at the clock on your phone screen, it turned out that you had been repeating ridiculously difficult names, dates, places and events which were described in an awful lot of detail for exactly 1 hour and 32 minutes. Seeing that, you decided to take a well-deserved break, which actually just consisted of texting and watching funny cat videos.

Closing your laptop and books, you gave yourself half an hour to rest, so that time wouldn't double leading to you procrastinating and forgetting everything you'd just revised. Reaching for your phone and turning off the silent mode, you started reading the few messages that had come in during your study session. Most of them were sent from your best friend, briefly stating that she had fallen asleep and will probably have stay up all night to cramp whatever material she can get into her head, hoping that she somehow manages to pass on Monday.

“Told ya to set an alarm >:( Well, you should have accepted my offer to study together HAHAHA good luck btw :D”-you wrote in response, feeling kinda sorry for her. Then you went straight to your emails after seeing a notification, where you found a recently received message with a strange title.

“BLUE LOCK INVITATION”

What the hell is Blue Lock? And why did you get an invitation? Your initial thought was that it’s a scam and were trying to delete the email if your stupid finger hadn’t slipped, making it press and open the email. Great, now your eyes were glued to the screen, trying to read whatever was on the message.

“Dear L/N Y/N!

We are honored to invite you to the Blue Lock Manager Training Program, where you will be granted the chance to work with one of our future star football players. We hope you will consider the offer because this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If you are interested, please come to the following address and time.

Any further questions will be answered on-site!

Blue Lock Assistant and Health Manager,

Anri Teieri”

Um, what the fuck. Yeah, doesn’t sound sketchy at aaall…as you read the letter over and over again, trying to make sense of it, not understanding how they even knew about your existence in the first place and more importantly…how did they get your email address? Although that wasn’t the point, it piqued your interest. You had so many questions yet you could only get answers on the spot.

“Smart tactic.”-you said, before browsing the internet to find something about this Blue Lock project. About 20 minutes later though, you leaned back into your chair and sighed in defeat as there was not a single thing about Blue Lock at all. The only thing you had was this quite fancy looking email.

Finishing the rest of your coffee, you began to think about the offer and whether or not to go. Your current job wasn’t good neither was the payment, which is why you recently had to take on a second job. But from what you read about the program, if you were to actually work with a soon to be star football player, the pay would probably be high. Plus, how hard can it be to manage a person, right?

After thoroughly thinking about the offer, you decided to give it a chance. Finishing the rest of your work, you came home and talked to your parents somehow persuading them to agree. Later that day you also informed your best friend as well. The weekend passed as you successfully finished your history exam on Monday and then you headed straight to the so-called Blue Lock building, the very next day. ——————

That's how you ended up in your current situation. On your first day there, they led you to a big hall with a bunch of people. To be specific, young girls around your age. Looking around for a bit, you realized that there were a lot of girls indeed, but no boys in sight. Finding it a bit strange, but shrugging it off, you turned around to face a huge stage, where moments later a pink-haired woman appeared, whose name you assumed and now know is Anri, introduced herself and greeted you from a big podium with a mic in her hand.

Finishing the brief intro she then continued with a very thorough and detailed speech, revealing that if you agreed to the conditions of the program, you would technically be locked up in the building for the next 3 months and would participate in intensive training, where you potentially could be eliminated for poor results.

“There goes my money…”-you thought, since you never really cared about football in your life nor did you know anything about it. Which in retrospect, you should have done or researched a bit before coming here since you applied to be a football player's manager after all.

“Well, it doesn't matter now anyway.”-you told yourself for some comfort. After Anri had finished her monologue, she instructed everyone that:

“If you agree and ready to take on the challenge then please go through this door!”-pointing with her microphone at a huge dark blue door that was slowly opening.

Hesitating a bit, you thought about all the possible things that could go wrong, but after a not-so-long train of thoughts you managed to convince yourself. Also that little push by a girl running towards the doors sealed the deal for you as you slowly started to walk towards the unknown.

“I mean, what can I lose, right? My sanity is gone already and even if I get eliminated, I'm just going to go back to my normal life again”-you whispered and with a small grin you officially entered Blue Lock.

To your surprise, the facility was quite clean and not to mention huge since most likely somewhere on the other side of the building, boys were kicking balls and running laps. Following the others, you arrived in what you assumed was a large waiting room with multiple TV screens on the walls. After managing to squish yourself through the crowd, a sudden voice spoke from the speakers and an egg-headed guy with a strangely perfect bowl cut appeared on the screens, introducing himself.

“Hello, diamond grinders! My name is Jinpachi Ego, the coach of the players in Blue Lock and the overall boss of the facility. I guess you already know why you’re here so I won’t bother with that anymore. First, let’s start with a quick count, which is...currently 200 people.”-he said and you looked around with wide eyes. The fact is, there were indeed many people besides you, but you didn't think such a large amount of them would participate.

'Pfft, no worries…'-you encouraged yourself, realizing that you’d probably get kicked out on the second day, if not today. You looked up to the screens again, and bowl cut continued.

“Out of these 200 people, the best performers will be given the best athletes to work with. But! You have to know what you’re doing. From now on, every minute of your time will be spent, from morning to night according to a routine and the underperformers will be eliminated. Understand?”

You nodded unconsciously, following those around you. This was serious and there was no turning back now. Even so looking at that man’s gaze as he spoke somehow made you shiver a little.

'What have I gotten myself into?'-the question suddenly popped into your head, making you doubt for a moment, if you being here was truly a good decision, but Ego's voice immediately made you get back on track.

“Great. Let’s start with a quick summary then. First, you will be divided into 20 teams, 10 people each. This division was based on your current abilities, but they can change over time while you’re here. Each week, the levels to pass are going rise and be harder, and those who can't pass will automatically fail and get eliminated."-he said leaning back into his chair.-"Next, is the routine which the assistant will tell you about in detail later. The goal here in Blue Lock besides creating football players, is to produce ideal managers who have the perfect skills and attitude to fit with them, and to maintain their level, helping them until the end of their careers.-he suddenly raised his index finger and the screens showed what looked like an animation of whatever he was about to say.-"This includes, one: Strategic and logical thinking, two: A healthy and fit body and three: The highest levels of media and communication! If you perform well in these three main areas, then a job and the experience of a lifetime are guaranteed! Don't disappoint me! Now lock off and goodbye for now!”

With that, the egg-headed man finished his speech, disappearing from the screens and Anri, with a microphone in her hand, started to divide everyone up, while handing out papers with our new weekly routine printed on it. Seems like you have been assigned to group number 10. That's not bad, but were your abilities really worth as much to be a team 10 member? So far you have only (tried) to manage your own life and your current football knowledge was equal to zero. But there was no time left for further thoughts, because after receiving the uniform you had to immediately start on the first task according to your assigned routine for the day.

—————— Okay. This was harder than you thought. Wiping off the sweat from your forehead, you started running your seventh lap around the damn track again.

"I’m gonna pass out.”-you muttered under your breath, as your newly made friend, you’d just met a few days ago appeared next to you.

“Same, I'm too tired to be running around in the morning!”-she replied, and after a few seconds the sound of a whistle was heard, signaling the end of the first part of the warm-up. Well, today was going to be long again.

Your new routine consisted of starting your mornings at exactly 7 am with physical exercises and then, you had a quick breakfast. After that you had to start on some brain work tasks for the day, followed by communication class and lunch. A 15 minute break later, media and IT started and before finishing the day with a small workout again, were language lessons waiting for you. Yes. You also had to learn languages.

Unfortunately not just one, not two or three, but four fucking languages in which you had to reach a basic level. At least the variety was good, since now you knew how to say hello in French, German, Italian and Spanish. (multilingual queen slay) And then based on those you could decide which one you wanted to work on more and reach at least an intermediate level. If that was not enough, the knowledge of English was also mandatory, but at an advanced level. Also for every other day there were talks, activities and tasks about basic football for those (like you ^_^) to have a grasp on the topic. So there you were, in full uniform everyday for the last two months, suffering through training.

It almost hurts to admit, but on some days you started to miss your simple, slightly boring school life. Thinking back to your friends and parents who you hadn't talked with in a while, to those boring classes and your warm bed. Training was hard since other than having to excel at the 3 fields, worrying that you could get eliminated at any moment, if you lacked behind was stressing you out even more than you already were. On top of that, seeing that some of the girls were kicked out of the building was saddening, yet it worked like a charm to make you work even harder to survive till the end.

Sure, it’s not like it wasn’t good here since you arrived. Luckily, you quickly adapted to the new environment, getting used to the shared bathrooms, roommates, the extreme routines and plans you had to follow and the surprisingly good canteen food. But the lack of 'fresh air'of the bustling Tokyo, the crowded places, the subways and the fact you could sleep in on the weekends certainly made a void in your heart. The mountains were a beautiful view, but you started to get bored of them after a while.

That's how you usually spent the rest of your days with. Time also flew a lot quicker with your new friends who you suffered with together until they finally announced the end of the program, ordering everyone to gather in the waiting room. Everybody arrived on time and just a few minutes later bowl cut finally appeared on the screens again. —————— “Yo, diamond grinders! Congrats on surviving till now. Looking at your data and statuses, I'm pretty much satisfied with everyone. Well, it doesn't matter now, since the results are already decided.”-Ego said in a voice that lacked emotions yet again. Still the boredom and lack of sleep were evident on his face, noticing his eye bags and the empty cups of ramen in the background that he didn't even bother to clean up. He coughed a little before continuing.-“After analyzing every single one of you on each field, I have decided on which player to assign you, based on these factors and scores. Let's start now, shall we?"-he asked and a little icon of the first girl who was about to be assigned, appeared on the TV screens, showing her name and the team she belonged to.-"First of all, congratulations to Aiko Hashimoto…”-he said a girl's name that felt unfamiliar to you, and then went on with, what you assumed was the player's jersey number and the name of who she would be managing from now on. Meanwhile on the big screens the footballer's little icon made an appearance as well next to Aiko's.

Ego soon continued with announcing the girls by their rank and time seemed to slow down the moment he started speaking again. After a while, at least 20 minutes have passed, yet your name was nowhere to be heard. Even your closest friend was now assigned to some boy, while you were still waiting for your turn. 'Did you do that well? Maybe they just forgot to kick you out.'-you assumed after another 5 minutes passed. Listening to Ego as he was still announcing names, you glanced around at the remaining girls who seemed confident while standing, not hearing their names yet. They seemed certain that they were getting one of the top players you thought, while you, yourself were still unsure who you would end up with. Before any more thoughts could occupy your mind, the sound of a familiar name hit your ears.

“Next up is L/N Y/N.”-you heard from the speakers and finally your little icon also turned up on the screens. Oh my gosh, it’s you! Wait who was before you again? What numbered player are we even at now?!

Blinking twice, you looked up to the main screen, staring at the miniature doddle of you, while Ego was about to say the lucky guy's name you were going to work with. A sudden rush of excitement and worry began to overwhelm you, anxiously waiting to hear the fruit of your 3 months of suffering. Sure, you did do well in all areas required and even gained some knowledge about football in general, but was it enough? Every girl here did their best, trying equally hard, afraid of missing the opportunity of a lifetime and getting kicked out of the facility.

You gulped ready to hear whatever and whoever was waiting for you on the other side of Blue Lock. Ego’s voice rang through the waiting room as he said the following:

“Congratulations L/N Y/N! Based on your results, you've earned your place in Blue Lock as the manager of player number…”

(Oh my gosh, this was a long one, hope you guys enjoyed it ^^; i wasn't sure about this story since it's my first one, so pls let me know if you are interested in a continuation and tell me, who you think will get u as their manager? (★‿★) tyy

[kurishiri]

Prologue ┊ The great detective Harrison’s book of incidents

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to narrative flow and characterization purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but please don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— harrison’s promised event, featuring william, ellis, victor, darius, and ring. congrats to our resident peppermint boy for making it to top 5 in the elections!

[CITY - NIGHT]

With clouds the color of lead thickly blanketing the winter sky, a man was running with bated breath.

???: hah... hah...!

Even with little control over his legs and on the verge of tripping, he couldn’t afford to stop.

——He had to run.

If he didn’t avert his eyes from reality, narrowing in on him, he couldn’t live on.

But...here to put an end to the chase was another individual.

Harrison: ——Stop right there.

The voice of the man with peppermint-colored eyes broke through the silence of the night.

And the running man’s shoulders jumped before he came to a stop.

The two men’s white breaths silently melted amid the cold air.

???: ...How did you know where I was?

Harrison: Easy. You left a great many clues in your room.

H: ...I think it’s about time you faced reality, isn’t it.

H: Running away won’t solve anything. Yeah?

???: But... I...! I left everything behind and ran this far now! How could someone like myself ever have a place to return to...

Harrison: Oh, there is a place to return to.

???: ...

Harrison: I’ll tag along in apologizing for neglecting your deadlines.

H: So, that’s why... let’s head back, mister author.

Author with a bed head: ...uuu— Harrisooon~!

(ｏ・_・)ノ”(ノ_<、)

[NIGHT SKY]

Indeed, the man running away was a mystery writer, a deadline hot on his heels.

Meanwhile, the one chasing after him was a man who — under normal circumstances — was responsible for editing in a publishing company...

...and was asked to find the runaway author: a man named Harrison Gray.

[CARRIAGE]

Harrison: I’ve got a message from the company. ‘We will extend the deadline, so don’t stress about it and come back.’

Author with a bed head: Well I sure am grateful for that! ...That said, I’ve reached a bit of a dead end.

Author with a bed head: I want to play around some more with the trick that shows up in the story’s endgame...

Harrison: If you end it as is, the readers will think it’s a great success, if you ask me.

Author with a bed head: The compromise of a writer will be conveyed to the reader as well. I can’t relax until the very end.

Author with a bed head: ...Oh, I know! Harrison, could you come up with some idea?

Author with a bed head: You sometimes share some mystery tricks with authors, don’t you?

Harrison: Unfortunately, I don’t have any such material on me right now.

Author with a bed head: I implore you...! Help me out here, please...!

Harrison: Hah... fine, okay. I figure if you run away again, I’ll have to find you yet again, anyhow.

[DINING ROOM]

Harrison: ——And so, with that, I’d like you guys to let me know if there’s any incident that happens around you, or any strange happenings about.

Liam: And then you’ll go and solve those incidents and come up with an idea for a trick through there!

Harrison: Exactly.

William: Alright then. If there’s anything, I will let the Great Detective Harrison know and have you get to the bottom of it.

Harrison: You seem like the last person who’d need a detective... but well, thanks.

Ellis: Me too, I’ll pay attention to anything that’s going on around me. If it will make you happy, that is.

Liam: Oh, with a detective comes an assistant! I’ll help out, Harry.

Victor: Well then, allow me to fulfill the role of the mysterious heroine who accompanies the detective——

Harrison: ——No need for a heroine. But I will take your assistance, Liam.

Liam: By all and every means!

[TYPEWRITER]

That which is about to be written henceforth is not a record of sin, but the records of six of their encounters with little mysteries.

The truth shall become clear in his hands.

[BLACK]

Now come the tales of the great detective through which not a single lie may escape——Harrison’s book of incidents.

masterlist 🔎 ┊ ko-fi ☕️ ┊ comms 🤍

[casuallyanidiot]

The Beta Test | Prologue

[yandere male x gn reader]

Local party animal and known social butterfly [name] wakes up to find that they've been abducted by their very reclusive and very wealthy classmate. Why, you might ask, did he do this? Well for one reason of course! He needs to know how he's going to talk to his crush! So now, with their freedom on the line, [name] has to figure out how to get this kid with the one of his dreams or risk never leaving at all. Lots of weird conversations ensue, of course.

600+ words Tw. Swearing, mentions of alcohol and drug consumption, kidnapping, drugging Table of contents

The first thing that came to your groggy mind was: “Shit, I need to work on that research paper.”

The second was: “Oh my god I’m absolutely going to die right now.”

Now, normally when you would wake up somewhere random it wouldn’t be too weird considering the fact that you were a frequent presence at many parties occurring on and off your campus, but you couldn’t say that you had ever found yourself laying on the floor behind a set of bars. Well, the on-the-floor part you had. Just not all that other stuff. 

The first thing, and the most logical thing at that, to consider was that you had somehow wound up being arrested last night. While you would like to say that you were a very responsible person when it came to substances of various degrees, there would be times when you would end up getting swept up in the heat and frenzy of a good time and good music, hence the whole waking up in strangers homes thingy. You had never gotten into any trouble while being in a state like that, but hey, there was a first time for everything. You could only imagine how embarrassing you had behaved last night if you ended up in jail.

It really sucked that you had been arrested though. “What the hell am I going to tell my parents?” you thought with a groan as you pressed your hands to your face. Your knees were placed to your chest and the soft material of your pajamas-

Wait a damn minute.

You looked down to find that you were in fact wearing something that would only be taken to bed or to take out the trash. The stains and faded fabric were proof enough of their use, and there was absolutely no way you’d be wearing sleep clothes while getting blacked out at a party. When you actually thought about it for two seconds, it became apparent that yeah, you had been in your apartment wearing comfy clothes, preparing to actually study, and winding down for the evening before BOOM, Nothing. 

Your brows were furrowed and your lips were pursed as you wiped at your eyes. Your brain felt fuzzy, and the room ( cell?) was blurred. Though the second it cleared up you realized that you were utterly and unequivocally fucked.

Yes, you were inside a cell, on the floor, sitting on a little mat. The floor was gray and cold and hard, but on the other side of the solid metal bars was a kitchenette and a dining table. From what you could see with the virtually nonexistent lighting were clean white marble countertops and sleek wood accents decorating the entire other half of the room. It looked nice, like one of those backdrops that you would see some social media model posing in front of, pretending that they were cooking.

Oh, and there was this guy sitting on a chair just staring at you.

You blinked harshly in surprise. How you hadn’t noticed him before was beyond you, but to be fair you weren’t exactly in the clearest state of mind. Still despite the terror growing in your gut like a weed, you put on a wobbly, awful, nervous smile and said,

“ Oh hi, what’s up?”

[hyuny-bunny]

cybersex | camgirl! x skz

prologue. chapter I

MDNI (18+): this series will depict sex work and acts of sex. this prologue has suggestive themes, nudity, and mentions of butt plugs

skz x fem!reader

a/n: I'll have chapter 1 up soon but I hope you all love this series as much as I do!

synopsis: after a month or so of becoming a camgirl! your career really takes off, you decide to get a place of your own to film content. a lovely building opens up with the perfect space for all your necessities but to your surprise, your favorite waiter boys and long time crush on the head chief of the restaurant you work also happen to live in the building. Bringing you to meet their own assortment of friends. what happens when they find out there's some holes in the stories you tell about your life style?

prologue

You always had a keen interest in the sex work. You had an nsfw twitter page for yourself but it was only really used as a means of saving material or on a bold occasion, posting some captions with said material. There was a thrill of seeing your notifications filled with compliments and praises of like-minded people who were just as horny as you. Your roommate Sana had gotten into doing camgirl work pretty early on. You had indulged your curiosity on occasion when she and her girlfriend would be streaming just down the hall from you. Popping onto the stream to see your roommate's body on display and her girlfriend sat cutely between her legs wearing nothing but a heart-shaped butt plug. Sana would encourage you to try it out at least, very aware of how much you had desired to try it out but always holding back. Financially speaking, you could only benefit from it. In comparison to what you two made in a week at your measly waitress jobs, she could make both your checks for two weeks in just one night and even double dependent on how long she streamed for.

“You’re not worried that someone will recognize you?” You asked standing in the newly furnished cam room, floor to ceiling decorated in all shades of pink imaginable. 

“Not anymore, I revealed my face on stream so long ago, I haven’t given it much thought since. Besides, I could walk away at any moment I decide. I will admit there was a certain thrill with covering up in the beginning. I think there's something about hiding your identity while being in such a lewd state that elicits such an adrenaline rush. It makes the excitement of being watched and gawked at all the more fun.” Sana is now leaning on the desk where her camera and lighting equipment reside. 

“I like the fun, bring me as much joy and excitement as it probably does for my followers,” There’s a slight flush that rises to the tops of her cheeks that you can still make out in the fluorescent lights, “The biggest thing for me is it gives me the confidence I need, the financial security is just a bonus.”

The windows were covered by drawn curtains that covered the entirety of the walls, allowing the room to only be lit by the neon color-changing lamps which to no surprise were set at a baby pink. The floors were covered by a fluffy throw rug, with very little wood peaking. There is a makeshift sofa bed that's covered by an assortment of pillows and silk sheets and another fluffy blanket. There sat on the floor is the giant white teddy bear, Mina, Sana’s longtime partner, gifted her just a month ago. You stayed quiet, absorbing your surroundings. You were amazed but also… jealous. Jealous of how she could find confidence and find security in what most people found so vulnerable. You let out a sigh, sitting on the almost too-silky sheets that caused you to slide right off the bed. 

“Careful. You can imagine how slippery they are in the nude,” She laughed softly as she stared at you, waiting to speak again. “I see the gears turning… What’s on your mind kit-kat?” Your eyes bolt up to her.

“I’m just... A bit taken aback I guess. You could say jealous maybe. This is the frist time I’ve ever considered it as a viable option…” You let the sentence trail off not knowing what to say.

All your life, you had complexes about your body. Measured your self-worth in the way your body looked, and how it compared to other girls you had admired. The older you got, the better you were about mentally checking yourself, to realize it was okay not to be shaped like other girls. Finding it in yourself to feel secure in the body you had. Although you could keep those insecurities at bay most of the time, they would crawl out from under the bed like a hideous monster to plague your thoughts when you felt down about the lackluster love life. Bad dates, unreciprocated feelings, and talking stages that never went anywhere, that was the extent of your love life. 

“You want to give it a try?” That question pulled you out of your thoughts, now you were the one with a bright flush across the tops of your cheeks. “I can help you get started, set up your account, and start promoting you on my own account to start you off with a bit of a following. That’s if… you really are serious about this.” Sana had always been so sweet to you, she had already been letting you take the spare of her 3-bedroom rental as you couldn’t afford to live on your own. She had always extended a helping hand when you needed but here was a chance to finally get you to land on your own feet for once. How could you refuse such an opportunity?

“I don’t know… I don’t think I’m cut out for something like this I mean look at you! I don’t know how anyone is supposed to get off looking at-”

“Finish that sentence and you’re never allowed to see Jiji again,” Sana interrupted, Jiji was your shared house cat who was slowly becoming more yours as time went on. “ I don't want to pressure you into anything but I just think you could actually see the benefit in this. Give it one try and if you don’t like it, I erase every trace of you.”

You sat with the thought, your brain tugging you to go for it. One chance and if it doesn’t work out no harm right? 

“When can we start?”

masterlist • next chapter ->

[shiny-jr]

how to steal a heart (I)

[ a dummy's guide on how to steal the heart of a poor pathetic man ]

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Female reader. 

- Note: This has been an idea (heavily inspired by Howl's Moving Castle) I had in my docs since fall 2022. I was talking to a mutual about how writing on Tumblr vs Quotev feels very different. If I leave something unfinished on Quotev, I feel incredibly guilty which prevents me from posting new stories. However, on Tumblr, I don't feel as guilty. Not sure why. Anyways, I know most of my followers here don't care for my ocs, and I've been wanting to post this for so long. So instead of posting on Quotev, I'll post it on here just to get rid of the urge to share this story (might delete this later). This is the same story I posted that little screenshot of not too long ago, and that screenshot was basically just the prologue chapter. So yeah. Hope you enjoy?

IN WHICH THERE IS A SEAMSTRESS . . .

Black smoke concealed the window like a thick veil as the walls around her shook. It was a sure sign that the train was inching by. The screech from its whistle and clanking against the railroad tracks, so loud that it must’ve been heard over a mile away, only confirmed her guess. Her hands continued to cut smoothly through the linen fabric, separating enough to fulfill another order placed this morning. As the young woman worked to separate the colors and gather more material, the corner of her eyes caught sight of the smoke concealing her perfect view. 

The train’s fading motion and clanging against the tracks was eventually replaced by chatter just outside her workshop. It all became background noise, as she began to utilize the sewing machine. Lines formed over the cloth, blending it and connecting so they formed an article of clothing. Needles, pins, and scissors cut and dug deep through the cloth. Buttons of all shapes and sizes were neatly organized in little boxes, so she could easily take what she needed. Time just seemed to fly as she worked so quietly and efficiently, oblivious to the hours ticking by. Any other noise fell on deaf ears, even as a knock resounded on the firm wooden door that happened to be wide open already. 

A pause before the person tried again, knocking a little louder again. “(Y/n)?” 

Snapping out of her efficient trance, the tailor snapped to attention and straightened her sitting posture. Gazing at the door and back the window where the sun was much lower than before, it took her a moment to figure out what exactly was going on and what time it was. It was later in the day, and the woman at the door was Dalena… Well, everyone called her Ma Dalena because she was a kind older lady who tended to see the young female tailors as her own children. At least, most of the tailors. 

“We closed up five minutes ago. You can go now.” Ma Dalena gave an encouraging smile that displayed the dimples on her skin, showing signs of age evident by the wrinkles. Judging by her long dress and small woven handbag hanging from her wrist, it was probably safe to assume that she had evening plans. “Why not spend the rest of the day with us?” 

Us. Correct she was again. As welcoming as the invitation was to join Ma Dalena and the other tailors, she wasn’t willing to join them anymore. Not after the first time when she dared to venture with them. After shifts, the tailors had a tradition of going out into town. Not that it was a bad thing. But they used their time cafe hopping, searching for flirtatious men to satisfy their need for affection. Oftentimes, they would get caught up with the pushy kind. And ever since some troops from the military have returned from their duties, well… encountering a bunch of men who hadn’t felt the touch of a woman in months, was not ideal. At least for her. 

Taking her foot off the pedal to pause her work and silence the sewing machine, she pretended to consider the invitation before mustering a polite smile with a shake of her head. “Hm… It sounds nice. But I promised the client I would finish this so they can pick it up tomorrow. So I’ll stay, but have fun. Have another drink in my place, alright?” 

Ma Dalena merely nodded in understanding, her polite smile turning somber as she turned on her two-inch heels and began walking to the front entrance. The chatter of the other tailors ready and eager for the rest of the day off, went quiet as she announced, “We’re leaving now. Hurry now if you’re coming!” 

The chatter resumed, accompanied by the sound of more heels tapping quickly against the wooden floors in an effort for the straying members to catch up with the group. They complimented each other's outfits they spent days making by hand, discussing various fashion trends, gossiping about clients and others in town. 

In a way, she did and she didn’t regret accepting the invitation. It may have been nice to have good company for once, but it never felt right when she was present within their clique. It was as if she were trying to forcefully add a puzzle piece to an already complete puzzle, which is why she stopped forcing it. She wouldn’t want to sit there awkwardly during tea, unsure what to say as they spoke so confidently and loudly. It felt as if she were an imposter, someone trying to disguise themselves to blend in. It was why she worked in a small separate room, away from everyone else. That, and because she was the fastest tailor there. Part of her wondered if Ma Dalena was beginning to dislike her since she turned down invitation after invitation. But how was she to explain what she was feeling, when it would only sound like whining? 

Drowning out her thoughts with work to occupy the space in her mind, she pressed her foot against the pedal and began sewing once more. The loud hum of the machine filled her ears as it worked against the red cloth under her fingertips. This was the way it was supposed to be. Mindlessly spending her waking hours working at a craft she didn’t excel at, but was decent enough to earn wages in. All while wondering what could’ve been, and secretly hoping that maybe soon there is something that can be–– 

“Look! Look out there! It’s Reyes’ temple!” 

“Reyes?!”

“Where? I don’t see it!” 

“There! Over the hill!” 

Now that was something you don’t see everyday. Everyone retreated back to the window, desperate to catch a glimpse, even Ma Dalena. Halting her work once again, (Y/n) too was the tiniest bit curious. 

In truth, magicians failed to interest her, not that she had an opportunity to see them much anyways. But all those in Etére knew to be cautious of two particular magic wielders: La Bruja de Bruez, the Witch of Bruez, and Reyes Ladrón de Corazones, Reyes the Thief of Hearts. The pair were like the local boogeymen, tales of their horrendous deeds spreading and becoming bedtime stories for children in order to scare them into good behavior. 

Ever since her youth, she heard stories of La Bruja de Bruez. It was said that she was a wicked woman who’s lived for over a hundred years. A slight against her is taken seriously, and she curses those she comes across. But she was no mere fairytale. The witch has been a thorn in the country’s side for a long time, as she terrorizes the towns she visits. There hasn’t been much action taken against her, because she’s so powerful that hardly anyone stands a chance and she’s so elusive. Besides, the royal family don’t particularly care if the witch curses a random citizen every month or so, as long as they don’t have to risk pawns in their own arsenal of magicians just to take her down. 

Only a few years ago, a second magician with fearsome spells and a horrible reputation, appeared. Reyes Ladrón de Corazones, or more commonly known as Reyes, was another brujo many feared, although not as much as his counterpart from Bruez. There were rumors, yes, but they were more lighthearted with little evidence to ever back up the claims. While the Bruja de Bruez spared no one, it was said that Reyes chose to pursue only young beautiful women. If you asked around town, half of the population would consider him a threat, while the other half would giggle and whisper about his rumored good looks. Maybe that’s how he lured them in? With charms. Either way, he was a cause for concern. It was said that at a young age after abandoning his position as apprentice under the royal sorceress, the most powerful known magician, he not only challenged her but won and stripped her of her powers. Of course, no one can neither confirm nor deny it, as the king kept a tight lid on the situation and supposedly those who approach Reyes meet a terrible fate. But his abode was proof enough of his sheer strength. It was like a castle, a temple wandering on mechanical legs, rumored to not only be fueled by magic but also made of it.

Through the mist and low hanging clouds, just over the rolling hills on the horizon she could make out the distinct shape of a temple. A magnificent temple that appears so small from so far away. But she knew that it was a beast, a titan wandering the wilderness where very few dared to venture. It prowled around on its mechanical legs, spewing black smoke as the only trail it left behind. Reyes’ moving temple disappeared behind the clouds, seemingly vanishing from sight. Onlookers within the tailor shop could only awe and wonder aloud what the brujo was like, what was true and what was not, their minds creating horrible fears and outlandish fantasies that would take root as rumors. 

Lowering her gaze back to her work, she resumed once more, but the rumors overpowered the hum of her machine until their words reached her. The other tailors proceeded back to the front entrance, marveling about what they just witnessed. Was he hiding from soldiers practicing their flights just outside the town? Did you hear that he literally steals the hearts of women, but only beautiful ones? Someone said that a pretty waitress on the other side of town had her own heart torn out and stolen by Reyes just last week! 

The door was shut and she was alone, left with her work and the noise outside. Swiftly she worked, able to repair tears and wears with ease and create other things. Able to get lost in the work for much longer, until she felt the ground shake and the screech of another whistle. The afternoon train. It’s smoke covering her window once again. It was getting late already. Not wishing to waste the rest of the day by continuing work or go to bed with a book she had already read twice, she switched off the machine and organized all the tools back into their places. Brushing off all stray strings from her dress, she then rearranged her completed work thus far and prepared to have a different kind of day. 

Today, she would try to make it a can be sort of day. Even if it meant just visiting a close friend like Lía at the bakery. Just putting out the effort to go out today was more than she was usually willing. Although wishing it would be something special, a proper can be day without even trying, was like wishing to be acknowledged by a person you admire but never once talked to, it was much like winging it on a test without studying and praying you would get a perfect score even though knowing that it’s almost near impossible. But it isn’t statistically completely impossible, so you cling to that thin shred of hope that’s as taut as a piece of string. 

The whirring of small planes buzzed overhead, the flying machines brandishing their flags like the proud and numerous soldiers. On nearly every home and business, there was the flag hanging over the door, a symbol of patriotism and support of the war effort. (Y/n) quickly crossed the streets and reached the trolley station that would take her further into town. Right now there was not a soldier in sight, but that was sure to change the closer to the center of town she got. She only prayed that there wouldn’t be any trouble with them. 

The trolleys were full, people all going towards the center of town, in the same direction the planes overhead flew towards. If she had to guess, most of the people within the trolley were likely friends or family of returning soldiers. All giddy from the victory high of a major battle just won. 

While watching the scenery go by, she wondered how Lía was fairing. 

It was because of Lía and her family that she now worked in a tailor shop. (Y/n)’s parents had met an unfortunate end while traveling outside the kingdom. They were doctors dedicated to a good cause, determined to stay in dangerous war torn lands to heal and treat the poorest of folks. While she was busy with school and often alone but checked on by family friends, her parents were saving people an ocean away in a faraway land where Milavi’s war had spread. They had been too close to Milavi claimed territory, likely mistaken for doctors healing rebels, and were thus punished for their good deeds. With no one left to turn to, her family’s closest friend, Señor Obregón, adopted (Y/n) and treated her as one of his own. 

Señor Obregón was a quiet but respectable man that spent his time either working or with his family. He was the one that taught her how to sew, knit, and tailor, after she became curious of his skills. There were two other girls, Lía and Cova, a few years younger than (Y/n), which is why she became the oldest sibling. Lía was the beauty admired all throughout their childhood and still beloved to this day. She most resembled her mother, but she wasn’t half as vain. Cova was the youngest and somehow the smartest, as she was able to quickly grasp the concepts from lessons even in (Y/n)’s class, despite being a few grade levels apart. She mostly resembled her father and his own wits. Then there was her, (Y/n), who had… whatever was left. Of course she never held any resentment toward her sisters, since they were always well behaved but perhaps a bit annoying with their squabbles. Lastly, was Señora Obregón, Rosita, who she just called Tia Rosa for short, was never rude or dismissive to her. Tia Rosa was actually very outgoing and talkative, but she was the sort of woman that wouldn’t be caught dead wearing something from last season. She desired the finer things in life and settled for no less, which is probably why Señor Obregón ended up in an early grave due to working himself to death just to try and afford the luxuries his wife craved. 

Immediately after the funeral, while they were still dressed head-to-toe in black and their eyes were puffy from crying, Rosita sat all three of her daughters for a conversation about the future. It would be impossible for her to keep them all in school, especially considering she hadn’t worked a day in her life. However, she wasn’t cruel enough to just toss her young girls out into the streets with nowhere to go. So, she devised a plan for each girl. Cova would be able to best utilize her smarts in a challenging field full of promise, which is why she was sent to a good witch in the next town over, to become an apprentice in magic. Lía was already very popular around town, she would thrive in a social environment like the bakery on main street where to this day men constantly asked for her hand. As for her, (Y/n), she would stay here in Obregón’s tailor shop, where Tia Rosa deemed was best fit. Afterall, she did know how to carry on the business, she had even helped their reputation grow substantially as more people came in every day and profits increased. Although, she hardly had the time to spend the earnings on herself, that’s what Tia Rosa was there for. Rather, never there for. She’d collect earnings from the business (Y/n) ran and would disappear for weeks or months at a time to another town or city. But that's besides the point… 

By now, the trolley she was on was near the center of town that happened to be within blocks away, the streets became crowded with people walking on foot. On roads below bridges, there were lines of military tanks rolling by. Not much further in, the sidewalks were jam packed with hundreds, upon thousands, of people. Confetti rained down, banners and flags were strung from every corner and door. Every window was occupied as citizens cheered and waved at the parade of temporary victors, a show of military strength. Soldiers in their crisp uniforms marched in unified lines, cavalry on horseback carried large flags. 

As the density of the crowds increased, and the volume of cheers and the parade along with it, she felt her heart beat louder. This was too much, it was too loud, she couldn’t even think…! But she had come this far, to go back home now when she was so close would be a little pathetic. Avoiding the commotion like a plague, she decided it best to take the maze of alleyways to calm her nerves. There were hardly any people on those backstreets, just the occasional stationed soldier. Focusing her gaze on the war propaganda posters on the brick and clay walls underneath window boxes filled with colorful flowers, she pretended to carefully study them as she increased her pace from a calm stroll to a quick speed walk, examining the items as if they were the most fascinating objects she ever saw. Really, she’d rather not make awkward eye contact with the soldiers on guard that watched her like a hawk, which is why she hurried along until they were out of sight.

Now that she was alone, with the crowds and their entertainment separated from her by walls of homes and businesses, she felt relief as the once loud sounds melted into background noise. For now she could concentrate on the address scribbled out on the folded piece of paper in her hands, and her anxiety could be replaced with confusion as she attempted to navigate these small hidden paths. This was only the second time she was on this path, since (Y/n) barely had time to ever go out due to work and her own incompetence. The first was on a holiday some weeks ago when the shop closed early, which granted her a few hours to venture on the main roads to the bakery where her friend worked. This was the second time, and she’s never taken the back roads, which was why she couldn’t tell left from right here. 

Just in time, she looked up from her note to stop her feet from moving, as she came face-to-face with an obstacle. It wasn’t another dead end, this obstacle wore clothing and golden pins, and had a head that could easily look down from his height and see the top of her hat. Immediately she stiffened up and took a step back, hesitantly forcing her eyes to look up at the smiling soldier that casually leaned against the wall. 

The young man only appeared amused as she jumped a step back in surprise. (Y/n) noticed that delighted sparkle in his eyes, as if her skittish self and startled reaction was his entertainment for the afternoon. Before she could open her mouth to mutter an apology and force her head down to continue ahead, the man leaned just a few inches closer to get a better look at her face hidden by the rim of her colorfully embroidered sun hat. “Huh, just like a mouse. Are you lost?” 

A mouse… A skittish field mouse. Would that then make him a rat or a predator? Holding her tongue so not as to speak her mind, she merely shook her head. Offending a soldier would not be good. Not that she had the confidence to say the quick comeback that came to mind anyways. “No… I’m not lost.” That was a lie. 

The young soldier persisted, refusing to move off the path as he continued to block her way. “You look lost. Say, what do you say to an invitation to tea? Afterwards, we can go over directions and escort you to where you’re heading.” Even his partner in patrol, an older gentleman, also a soldier but likely more experienced by at least a few years, moved from his post and approached in curiosity. 

As the second man stepped closer, she could distinctly hear his polished shoes tapping in a steady rhythm as he stood beside his friend. Her own heart rate easily outpaced his steps, and it wasn’t increasing due to excitement, it was due to growing unease. Yes, she knew rationally that these soldiers likely meant no harm and merely wanted to flirt, but her mind could only conjure up the worst possible scenarios as she reminded herself that they outnumbered her, they were stronger, and they had their long firearms strapped to their backs. Keeping her head down, she replied, “Thank you, but no. I’m supposed to be meeting up with someone.” 

Just like the first did, the second soldier bent down a bit to peer at her features. Just like his accomplice, he wore an amused smile as he shook his head and remarked. “A mouse? That’s not very nice. Don’t worry, you’re much better than a simple little mouse.” 

Rolling his eyes, the younger soldier only continued, “If you’re old enough to drink, we can go to a bar if that’s more your style? Do you live around here?” 

This was getting ridiculous. Did they never learn to accept rejection? No means no, even children could comprehend that. But for now, she was at their mercy, no one would come to help her here. It would be up to them to decide she was no use for any fun and let her go, or continue to persist for their selfish desires. “No. Please let me pass.” 

Barely phased by her firm reply, the younger of the two turned to his partner and scoffed, “See? I told you the girls don’t like the beard you’re growing out. It scares them.” 

It’s as if her plea went through one ear and out the other, not swaying them in even the slightest bit. The older gentleman merely rubbed the stubble on his chin, “It makes me look better. Besides, I’m sure she doesn’t mind. She might even prefer a man with facial hair.” Actually, the word gentleman did not describe him well. 

In that moment she was wondering, would she truly risk it all just to snap back in reply? It must’ve felt so satisfying, but was it necessary? Later, would she come to regret her decision or revel in it? Would she seriously use this sprouting frustration, minimal not only compared to her current fears but also in the grand scheme of things, to temporarily push past her anxiety and say something…? Probably not. As annoying as these men were, like the constant buzz of a pestersome fly, they hadn’t caused any harm except to waste a bit of her precious free time. 

“Ah, there you are, mi corazón. I was worried about you.” A smooth and silky voice interrupted.

[mockerycrow]

PROLOGUE — THE SOUL (Ghost x GN!Reader)

the soul masterlist

summary; laswell is providing you one possible last chance. will you waste it? callsign used is maverick.

[WARNINGS; anxiety, slight paranoia, slight angst.]

The blood in your head rushes underneath your skin as you stare blankly at the floor, sitting uncomfortably on a too-harsh, poorly produced plastic chair that’s digging into your sit bones, your hands on your knees with a slight grip on your kneecaps. A low, uneasy rumbling sensation grows in your gut; it's deadly silent, the exception being the clock up on the wall. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock, Tick—

You don’t jolt when the door opens with the click, but your right index finger lifts for just a moment. You don’t look up either, swallowing harshly as the figure approaches you with light footsteps. The muscles in your shoulders and neck twitch and slowly begin to tense up, a slight ache developing already as your fingers dig into your kneecaps as an attempt to settle rolling thunder in your stomach. A pair of dark brown leather women’s loafers come into view, your eyes studying the shiny material for a moment.

“Maverick.” Laswell speaks firmly, her voice low and serious. There’s a bite of irritation coming from her—a word of warning, almost. You bite down onto your lower lip for a moment, your upper canine tooth sinking in as you lower your shoulders, however they aren’t any less tense than since the first moment you stepped into this room. Your eyes move from her loafers up her dark gray dress pants, up her white dress shirt and finally focusing in on her face. Laswell’s eyebrows are furrowed together, a wrinkle in the middle of them, her eyes narrowed. You can see the corner of her lip is curled a bit upwards. Her bun is nearly perfect, her bangs sitting beautifully across her forehead.

“Laswell.” You echo easily, your voice low in your throat. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Your eyes flicker down to the manila folder in her hands, multiple packets and mismatched papers stuffed into it. Your eyes squint for a moment with recognition; your file.

“You already know what I’m going to say, aren’t you?” Laswell questions, a hint of exhaustion her words—you can’t care enough to decipher if it’s because of you or not right now. Your eyes flicker back down to the waxed floor to where her feet are. Your hands let go of your kneecaps, instead letting yourself lean your forearms down on your thighs and partially onto your knees. Your hands hang between your legs, your back bent down with your head looking down. “Yeah.” You utter, feeling the tension in the air thickening by the second.

Of course you know why you’re here. You always know why, because it’s your own doing. Being called into Laswell’s office—or asked.. More like commanded to answer her phone calls—is practically a hobby for you by this point. You could recite the lectures you’ve gotten like the way a bad yet catchy song is something you find yourself singing to yourself. One part of you is amused with how you haven’t been discharged yet. How haven’t you been is one part miracle, another part devastating. For you or the people around you, you cannot quite tell yet.

“You have a problem, Maverick. We need to fix this.”

You nearly snort, leaning back upwards with one forearm on your leg, your palm grabbing your other knee. “Like I don’t know it.” You mutter, your voice a bit gritty from how low you speak. Laswell makes a displeased noise, her eyebrows tightening together. “This isn’t funny.” Laswell says firmly, her tone stern and unmoving. “I’m not laughing.” You easily retort, your face tightening for a hot moment. You’re both silent, almost like you’re in an unofficial staring contest until Laswell mutters something unintelligible, leaning back against her desk and putting your fat file on the top of some other papers. “I need you to listen to me,” She begins, putting a palm on her knee, smoothing out her dress pant-leg. “They’re considering letting you go.”

That gets your attention right quick. Letting me go? You think to yourself, letting your facial features do the talking for you. Laswell lip twitches, her fingers brushing across her bangs to “fix” them. She’s stressed. “..They need me.” You say slowly, your gaze watching her much closer now, trying to read every part of her body language. “Yes, they do, and I’m trying to do everything I can for you.” Laswell avows, her tone stressing her words. Her fingers twitch where they rest on her knee before she pushes herself back to a proper standing position, her hands in the front of her. Your heart tightens in your chest for a second as you watch Laswell struggle to find her words.

“Look.” Laswell sighs out, her voice serious as you make eye contact with her once again. “I can try—I’m not saying I can, but I’m saying I might be able to provide you one last chance.” Laswell presses her lips together for a moment, silence overtaking everything between you and her. “You are aware of what this means, right?”

You almost want to laugh in her face; how could you not know? Instead, you offer a more polite response—a simple nod.

“I’m serious, Maverick. I’ve tried to pull every single goddamn string I have, all for you. They want you gone.”

Ouch.

“I get it.”

You press the heels of your hands into your eyes until pain prickles at the corners of the nerves in your eyes and you see stars, as well as colors. You inhale deeply, painfully aware of how much space air takes up in your lungs, aware of the way your chest expands until you slowly exhale. You sit up straighter than before, putting your palms back on your kneecaps, lifting your head to look at the woman in front of you. “I get it.” You repeat, quieter this time, but not any more soft than before.

Laswell’s eyes scream doubt. They scream disbelief, anger, worry, and burning determination. “I already sent your file over to your last chance. I’m begging you to straighten yourself out, Maverick.”

You only offer a shrug, your mind struggling to comprehend what this could mean for you. You’ve thought of this moment for months—over a year by this point, honestly. Now that it’s finally here, you aren’t really sure what to make of it all yet.

One last chance. Maybe.

🏷️; @kivino @soapybutt17 @microwavedcheetos @frazie99 @narcolepticduck @ch3rrykoolaid @kimdiedlater @glossysoap @thisuserloveshalloween @missborntodiex @indefenseofkara @mushr00mf00d @queen-leviathan @specter319 @morganight @theunplannedvariable @spacelia @1117sblog @snoowply @dumb-fawkin-bitch @elliotisgae @abigatorchomp @s8nsbride @talooolaaloolla @sstormyskyess @spicyspicyliving @nyushkawritesstuff @tipsykeen @sweetcorpse

wrongfully tagged or you no longer want to be tagged? let me know, no hard feelings. :-)

[withthewindinherfootsteps]

MDZS Notes + Analysis — Chapter Two: “Reincarnation”

Three main things stood out to me when rereading this chapter: the theme of status, our intro to WWX, and the information we’re given about his state after death.

…Well, four things, but the other one will get its own post.

The theme of status is immediately introduced* with ‘MXY’’s treatment and the backstory of MXY and his mother, yet again showing just how well MDZS’s ideas are integrated into the text and how well it’s paced! You’re introduced to every important theme so, so early on. Two screenshots are analysed below:

(See: entitlement of the upper classes towards the lower classes, and how this can exist even between members of the ‘same family’; and arguably the idea of debts between a richer family and someone who was 'taken in'. There are a surprising amount of parallels between MXY and WWX, but I'll make my own post about that)

(See: once again, differences in status between members of the same family, and also the worse, and disposable, treatment of one daughter because she was "the daughter of a servant". Now, why does that phrase sound familiar...?)

Also, MXY's mother was sixteen when she attracted JGS's attention... if you somehow needed even more material to hate the guy...

We also get introduced to WWX’s personality(!), which immediately disproves the rumours from last chapter on how he'd cast the world into ruin:

(That's one of the first questions he asks after waking up – I love how he's so concerned about this! It shows us two important things, too: 1) Morality is important to WWX, and 2) Doing immoral things seems to be out of the ordinary for him. Both of these stand in direct contrast to the picture of WWX we were painted earlier!)

(Same thing here, along with showing us some of the (healthy!) pride WWX has – he wouldn't be offended at this if wasn't something he held as important within himself)

(I use this quote again, but here it's once again proving that the vengeful, evil WWX who'd sink the cultivation world into "nothing but chaos and despair" at the first chance he got... very much does not exist.)

(And finally, it's explicitly confirmed here that he's not the type to take exessive revenge and take pleasure in it... at least at this point in time, because. MXY definitely had reason to think this considering Sunshot!WWX, if everyone had been working from the truth. But importantly that isn't who he is now, and isn't who the WWX villified by the cultivation world was – imo that's including Nightless City, we'll get to that when I reach it. But note that actions during the Sunshot campaign aren't even mentioned in the prologue, because, shock, they actually helped the cultivation world win the war! Though that doesn't mean they weren't part of rumours + the WWX hatred mill later.)

Then some non-morality related things:

This is just really funny to me, with how the makeup being badly applied (:o) is enough of an issue to merit a thought – WWX I love you.

And then this way of thinking comes back a few times esp during the earlier chapters, enough to be noted I think.

Confirmation on WWX's status after he died – it's not anything new to point out, but this chapter does give us rare insights into what state he was in during the post-death, pre-rebirth period.

So, he was somewhat conscious, enough to be aware of what he was(n't) doing – seeking vengeance, haunting the living – and was seemingly in control of those actions. However, he was specifically a "wandering ghost" – his soul didn't pass onto the afterlife or "return back to Earth"** like the body-offering spell's caster's would. He was conscious that a long time had passed as well, and this long period of downtime where he could accept + deal with what happened in his first life is what likely allowed him to be so well-adjusted the second time round – even taking into account the remarkably good way he tends to deal with things in general (cue the "forgetting the wound when the pain fades" quote, it summarises WWX's mindset really well)***.

Also, as for resisting the summons from the prologue – I'm wondering how much was due to WWX's experience with resentful energy + general capability (if that affects it..?) allowing him to consciously refuse, how much was due to WWX not being the type to hold onto resentment (so possibly spells targeting ghosts, full of this resentful energy, wouldn't be as affected?), and how much was due to the relative lack of knowledge about how ghosts/resentful energy works compared to WWX. Or, if it was something else. Either way, achieving the impossible, that's WWX for you :D

It is interesting that he hasn't heard a voice in ages despite wandering, too – do ghosts just not hear the same way, or did he deliberately avoid areas with people? I could see both, the second being more likely, especially considering how many people wanted to summon him back for... less than stellar purposes.

Misc:

Poor Mo Xuanyu....

--

*Well, reinforced – in the prologue, one of the things said about WWX is that "if not for the YunmengJiang clan’s adopting and teaching him, he would have been a hobo living on the streets", which is among the insults people throw. So of course, class-affecting-perception is tied to WWX from the very beginnning! But this is the first time it's actually explored, not a throwaway line.

**Though that may be what's literally happening to WWX's soul here – it is wandering around Earth – I don't think that's what this line refers to. There's a very good meta on how different translations handled that line, I really recommend it (tysm @/mxtxfanatic for finding it)!

***It would be very interesting to read a fic where it felt like no time had passed for him since his death, actually! Though the extremely stressful circumstances are gone, it would still be interesting to see a WWX for whom the Siege, Nightless City, Qiongqi Path etc are pretty recent – but only in fic territory, since I'm so, so glad we got the WWX we did in canon. Also, I'd love to see a fic maybe exploring some of his time as a ghost...?

[mrsjellymunson]

Knock At The Cabin [Flip Flopped version]

Written for @munson-blurbs and @corroded-hellfire’s excellent Flip Flopped summer writing event, challenging writers to explore what might’ve happened to their story if a plot point had taken a different direction.

WC: ~1k

CW: Not much in this part, but overall the series is 18+ so minors DNI. Post-S4, dark themes, hurt/no comfort, canon-typical distressing images, canon-typical brandishing of weapons but no actual violence, mentions of someone vomiting but it’s not described.

Summary and A/N: Thanks so much to Bug and Red for creating this event! I decided to revisit Knock At The Cabin, and see how Part One might have played out if the gang had a very different reaction to their surprise visitor.

NB: Spoilers below the cut - if you want to catch up on the story before reading this, read the Prologue, the original Part One and Part Two

There, hunched, shivering, soaked and covered in mud, is your friend. The one who’d died saving the town. The one they’d buried only a few days ago, after he’d been lying on a slab in a lab somewhere for weeks.

Eddie.

The increasingly noisy wind blows leaves and rain horizontally across the stoop. Inside the hallway, there’s silence. You all crowd at the door, mouths agape, and initially, none of you move.

You take in your visitor’s appearance. His hair is lank, wet, muddy and full of twigs and leaves. He stands, shoulders sagging, in filthy, soaking clothes, the wet material dragging his frame down further. He’s barefoot, his feet muddy and bloody.

His cheeks are gaunt, his lips grey, not the plush, rosy pink that they once were. He looks thinner than you remember, and his skin was always pale, but it seems lighter now, almost translucent.

Eddie finally lifts his eyes to you all. They’re sunken, red-rimmed, and have lost their usual sparkle.

None of you consider what events or twists of fate might have brought Eddie to you, only caring in this moment that he’s here, standing in front of you. He should be dead, but somehow he's here!

Dustin shoulders his way between you and Steve and takes his first good look at the strange visitor. At first he’s confused, incredulous, but this rapidly gives way to pure terror, as he lets out a high pitched screech over the sound of the rain. He abruptly turns on the spot and runs down the hallway, yelling,

“Zombie? ZOMBIE!”

Robin screams, hands coming to cover her mouth as she backs away from the doorway a couple of paces.

Steve reacts defensively, raising his nail bat as he steps outside, placing himself between Eddie and the party. Lucas takes Steve’s lead and grabs an old walking stick from a stand by the door, moving to join him and brandishing it like a weapon.

Steve yells towards Eddie over the noise of the rain,

“What are you? One of Vecna’s foot soldiers?”

Lucas continues, jabbing the stick at the air in front of him,

“A demon? A lab-grown demogorgon? Get back!”

Will is swaying, rubbing at the nape of his neck. Robin and Jane try to comfort him, the three of them clinging to each other in tears.

You hear quick footsteps behind you and glance back to see Mike rushing to the kitchen, followed by the distinctive sound of someone throwing up.

Steve spreads one arm out and signals for Lucas to get behind him, hustling him back through the opening, slowly retreating as he yells over his shoulder,

“Everyone get inside. Now!”

You watch as Eddie stumbles backwards, eventually stepping off the stoop.

You seem to be the only one who’s concerned rather than terrified. You try to shoulder your way through them all to get outside, see Eddie properly, but the movement of their combined retreating bodies pushes you back into the hallway, and you’re unable to get a proper look at him, let alone go out to him.

As soon as everyone’s inside Steve slams the door, locking and bolting it and scanning for something heavy to brace it with.

Without looking around, he barks,

“Robin, get the satellite phone.”

Robin, wide-eyed, stammers,

“B-but we’re only supposed to use that in an emergency.”

Steve continues, his voice becoming more high-pitched,

“Well, I’d say that someone coming back from the dead qualifies as a fucking emergency, wouldn’t you? Call Owens. Now!”

Everyone scatters into the cabin. Robin tries to find the equipment Owens gave you when you moved here. Will and Jane comfort each other on the sofa and Jane wraps a blanket around her friend's shoulders. Lucas and Steve find bookcases and tables to put against various windows and doors. Dustin sits rocking near the back door, holding his knees to his chest, whilst Mike cleans himself up in the kitchen.

You’re the only one who moves to the living room window to look upon your friend.

He raises his head, initially simply staring at the closed door with a blank, stunned expression.

You place a palm against the glass, feeling like it’ll get you closer to him somehow. It’s enough to draw his attention, and as your eyes connect his brows draw up and you see a look of rejection and fear pass across his features.

You breathe his name quietly against the glass, and it fogs up a little.

His expression briefly turns to sadness, before he drops your gaze and runs a hand down his filthy cheek. Shuffling backwards for a few steps, he turns and shambles off into the rainy night.

He takes a few longer steps before pausing to look over his shoulder at the door again, and that defeated expression turns into a scowl as his brows furrow and his lips slowly curl up into a snarl. The softness in his eyes is completely gone, and is replaced with a steely black glare.

He turns away then, and you see him break into a jog. He’s bouncing his shoulders and flinging his hands out to the sides as if he’s building himself up for something.

He runs so far down the lane he almost reaches the highway. You nearly lose sight of him, and he appears only as a dark silhouette.

Suddenly the shape shortens as he drops to his knees, raising his face to the swirling grey sky and spreading his arms wide as brief flashes of lightning begin to light up the clouds.

The wind buffeting the trees increases, and starts to send larger branches, twigs and more leaves to smack against the roof and windows of the cabin

It’s almost enough to drown out the inhuman bellow Eddie emits.

But you hear it…

If you’d like to read the original series that this comes from, it starts here 😊

Thanks so much for reading!

My masterlist

As always, comments and reblogs make my world spin - I’d love to know what you think of this.

Series taglist (open): @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @ali-r3n @eddiemunsonshandcuffs @jasminelafleur @corrodedcoffincumslut @kthomps914 @iletmytittiestitty-russ @findmeincorneliastreet @tlclick73 @sapphire4082 @razzeith @cupid-club @storiesbyrhi @eris-rose-86 @micheledawn1975 @bl0ssomanddie @veemoon @sunshinepeachx @writinginthetwilight @guiltyasquinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @idkitsem @em0220 @kookygranger @fanfics-i-find-here @the-unforgivenn @b3lladoonna @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @amandahobblepot @daisy-munson @sheneedsrocknroll92 @maedesculpaeusoubi @munson-blurbs @wonderlanddreamer @daisy-munson @kellsck @eddiemunsonshandcuffs @babydollface1165 @3rd-conchord @probablyin-bed @kurdtbean @mediocredreams (if your name is crossed through I couldn’t tag you - let me know your new url if you want to still get notifs)

[quack-quack-snacks]

Star Crossed - Chapter 8

| Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 |

The Star Crossed Masterlist

My All Of Us Are Dead Masterlist

My Navigation and Masterlist

Warnings: Normal AOUAD things,

WC: 5,538

Just before running through the door to escape the inbound zombies, you saw a withered bouquet of flowers leaning against the corner of the wall.

They were your favorites.

Running through the door, you turned around and slammed it shut with the help of Cheong-san. Afterward, the both of you leaned with your backs against the door before sliding down to sit against it, not willing to waste any more energy on getting the attention of the chopper above that obviously was not coming back. You looked over when you heard the boy next to you groan and bumped his shoulder with your own. “You alright?”

He looked over at you and offered a tight smile. “As good as I can be.”

You nodded at him and leaned your head back to rest against the cool metal of the door when a sudden strong force hammered against the door and you quickly jumped up, on edge again after the moment’s rest. Cheong-san jumped up with you and you both stared at the door, preparing for the worst. After a moment of silence, you leaned your ear against the door to hear what might be on the other side and another hit sounded. You flinched back, almost falling onto Cheong-san who steadied you. You all held your breath as one more strike was heard before silence enveloped everything again.

“He’s gone.”

You turned around to look at Nam-ra when she spoke.

“Who’s gone?” Su-hyeok asked.

“It’s Gwi-nam, right? He’s gone now,” you spoke with disappointment lacing your tone. You weren’t sure if it was disappointment that he left or disappointment with what he’d become.

Maybe both.

Nam-ra nodded with an empathetic frown in your direction. “It's his smell. I hear his breathing.”

You nodded to the floor, not really in agreement or disagreement with everything but just a nod to get your body to do something other than to fall into a pit of despair. Not looking at anyone, you turned to go walk to a corner of the roof and sat down, leaning against the wall. You lifted your hands to your face and pressed harshly on the sockets of your eyes, seeing little stars and shapes appear until you heard the sound of someone sitting next to you. Lifting your head, it took a while for the ability to see to come back but you then saw Nam-ra sitting next to you with a guilty expression on her face.

“I’m sor-”

“Don’t apologize,” you interrupted her softly. “I know what he’s become. I know about how he’s trying to kill Cheong-san for whatever reason and how he bit you while fighting Su-hyeok. I know my brother’s gone.”

She looked at the side profile of your face as you refused to look her in the eyes, instead deciding to stare off into space with no specific object having your full attention. You closed your eyes and let out a sniffle when she wrapped her arms around your shoulder and pulled you down so she was cradling you against her chest. You refused to cry, feeling like you had cried enough already and knowing it was the exact opposite of how your father had raised you. Granted, you never really listened to your father considering how much you hated him for the words he would spit at you for any slight mistake.

You both stayed there for a minute or two until you saw the group gathering materials to make the SOS sign bigger. You slowly got up so as to not bump into her and then held your hand out for her to grab. When she did, you lifted her up and started walking in the direction of the group to help, gathering some materials on the way. You looked over when Hyo-ryung was warning Joon-yeong to be careful as he climbed on top of a platform to look at the sign.

“How does it look?” Ji-min asked him and he hummed with his hand holding his chin.

“First… the ‘O,’ it's just too narrow.”

“Why do we need to make the ‘O’ bigger? It’s a distress signal it doesn’t have to be perfect?” You questioned to Hyo-ryung who stood beside you and she just shrugged her shoulders with a small laugh before going over to help as you did the same.

Working together for a bit, with the assistance from Joon-yeong’s instructions, you all stepped back to take a look at your work and saw the most beautiful and perfect SOS signal you have ever seen before.

“Yeah, well, there's no way anyone can miss that,” Joon-yeong spoke proudly.

“Right?” Dae-su agreed and Wu-jin nodded.

“We did do a good job.”

Everyone spread out a little bit, Dae-su and Cheong-san walking over to the copper circle they had placed in the middle of the ‘O’ to center it.

“It's a little crooked, though,” Hyo-ryung commented and you playfully pulled her to your embrace as you covered her mouth and she laughed beneath your hand.

“Nooo. If you say anything we’ll have to do more work!” You joked and she laughed again.

As you let her go with a smile, she turned around and gave you a hug which you didn’t return for a few seconds until it registered in your brain what she was doing. When she pulled back, she looked at you with a sad, guilty smile. “I’m sorry. For all of our preconceptions of you. You’re nothing like what we expected and I wish we became friends under better circumstances,” she told you. You smiled at her and instead of responding just brought her into another hug which she returned.

“Thank you, Hyo-ryung.”

“What does SOS mean?” Dae-su asked as you all were sitting around, resting. He was messing around and moving the parts of one of the ‘S’s to make it less crooked.

“It's a distress signal,” On-jo answered.

“I know that. What does it stand for?” He specified.

“It-”

“It doesn't stand for anything. SOS is just SOS,” On-jo answered, unintentionally interrupting you but you didn’t mind.

“That makes no sense,” Dae-su looked at her, his eyebrows furrowed.

“That's just how it is. It doesn't mean anything.”

“Then rescue quickly… speed of save… save?” Dae-su looked towards you as if he figured it out and you opened your mouth to speak again when On-jo unintentionally interrupted you again.

“Why'd you ask if you're not gonna believe me?”

“I thought you'd know.”

“I do know. Look it up. You'll see I'm right.”

He rolled his eyes as you saw Choeng-san stand up and start walking towards the three of you. “Whatever. How can I look it up? I don't have a phone.”

“Actually-” You started only to roll your eyes when Cheong-san interrupted you. You knew they weren’t doing it on purpose but it was annoying nonetheless.

“What?”

“I asked On-jo what SOS means, and she said it doesn't mean anything,” Dae-su scoffed as he looked at her. “Just say you don't know next time.”

“Well, it’s true,” On-jo huffed.

“It's true,” Cheong-san confirmed and you just shook your head, walking over to where Nam-ra stood and starting up a random conversation with her, unable to stand the love oozing out of Cheong-san’s pores into the atmosphere, all of it directed towards On-jo.

Minutes later, Dae-su walked up to the both of you. “Hey prez, hi (Y/N). What does SOS mean?” He asked and you looked at Nam-ra to see if she would answer but she didn’t, only looking at you for the answer.

“Okay… well. In English, it stands for ‘Save Our Souls’ or ‘Save Our Ship.’ When boats would have a problem in the middle of the ocean, they would send that out for help. It usually just means ‘Save Our Souls’ when people use it in everyday circumstances.”

“Haha!” He exclaimed and turned back to where Cheong-san and On-jo were. “I knew it stood for something! You were wrong!” He boasted and you just laughed as you watched them start another argument. You looked away for a moment only to look back to see On-jo walking away from Cheong-san kneeling down in pain with his hands holding the back of his knees.

“The sun's setting. Let's start a fire,” she directed and you nodded with an amused smile that she rolled her eyes at but couldn’t help to return.

As you all gathered around a plank of wood, On-jo started rotating a stick back and forth to start a fire. When she was unsuccessful, she stood up. “I'm done.”

“Already?” Wu-jin asked but Joon-yeong just got in her place.

He started off strong, twisting it back and forth quickly as he tried to start it.

“You'll get tired. Slow down,” Dae-su warned but Wu-jin smacked him across the arm.

“The fire won't start if he goes slowly.”

Dae-su looked contemplative before turning back to the boy. “Do it faster. Faster. Faster. I said come on, faster! Rub it faster!” He ordered and Joon-yeong let go of the stick in pain, rubbing at his hand. “What is it, cramps?”

“My hands. I can't do it,” he explained and Dae-su gently pushed him away as he took his spot.

“I'll do it. Step back.”

He grabbed the stick and started rolling it in his hand very slowly which caused some of you to groan, you especially and you crouched down in front of the wooden plank.

“Hey, should we kill him?” Wu-jin suggested and you sighed before leaning over and pushing Dae-su back and away.

“Oh, move over already,” you demanded before taking up the stick. You started twisting the stick, faster than everyone who was before you and smoke almost immediately started to pile out of the hole.

“Smoke!” Su-hyeok exclaimed and tried to push you away but you stopped him.

“If I stop now, it won’t be enough friction,” you told him and he nodded. After another few moments, the fire started on its own and the stick lit up. The group oohed and ahhed and you just laughed as you threw it into the wooden pile you all had created.

“Wow! (Y/n), you’re so talented!” Dae-su praised but you just rolled your eyes.

“Nam-ra had a lighter this whole time so we could’ve just used that,” you pointed over at the girl as she held the lighter out, ready to hand it over but you had already succeeded.

“I was going to give it but none of you heard me,” she explained and when everyone remained looking at her with the same shocked look, she continued. “Well, I smoke sometimes.”

You laughed.

“So do I,” you told all of them with a grin as you pulled your own lighter out of your pocket and held it up for everyone to see. Su-hyeok looked at you in astonishment, his mouth opening and closing a few times before you just laughed at his shock. “I’m just kidding. I don’t smoke, I just always carry a knife and lighter on me. I used the knife in the first classroom we were in and the lighter’s been in my pocket since. I haven’t needed to use it until now.”

“You had it this whole time?” Wu-jin asked in exasperation and you just shrugged with a wink sent in his direction as you walked over to the pile, seeing how the fire had died down to only a few sparks.

“Why didn’t you bring it out earlier?” Joon-yeong asked you in confusion.

“Well, I needed to show off my skills,” you laughed as you lit the stick back up and held onto it as you lit more of the wood on fire.

The sun finally set and you all settled around the fire, pulling out blankets and whatever you could to keep warm. You sat to the left of Nam-ra, sharing a blanket with her and On-jo. There was a comfortable silence that settled over all of you until Su-hyeok turned to Dae-su.

“Dae-su.”

“Yeah?” The boy hummed with his cheek resting against his elbow.

“How was your audition?”

Dae-su scoffed. “They said I have to lose weight.”

“Well they’re missing out. You’re a good singer, Dae-su,” you told him and he looked at you with a smile.

“I never knew you'd heard me sing, (Y/n).”

“Being the quiet kid makes it so you see and hear everything. I’m like a spider. I’ve got eyes on the back of my head,” you joked and Hyo-ryung shivered.

“Oh! I hate spiders!”

You laughed at her reaction along with a few others before Su-hyeok spoke to Dae-su again. “Sing for us. I wanna hear it.”

“Just forget it. I don't want to,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand.

“I actually really like that song,” Joon-yeong told him.

“What song?” You asked in confusion, not picking up on any context clues.

He turned to you with a smile. “Just wait, you’ll hear it.”

“You really like it?” Dae-su asked and Joon-yeong nodded.

“It's really nice.”

“You sing well,” Su-hyeok complimented to sweeten the deal.

“It'll cheer us up,” Wu-jin added.

Dae-su cleared his throat and sat up straight before starting.

♪ Let's go once it's over ♪

♪ Let's go anywhere ♪

♪ Once we're done studying hours a day ♪

♪ Once the annoying sounds are over ♪

♪ Let's go hand in hand ♪

♪ Let's not run ♪

♪ Let's try walking slowly ♪

♪ Is that drool or sweat pooled on the book? ♪

♪ No one notices the plop, plop ♪

♪ The plop, plop ♪

♪ The falling rain drops ♪

♪ What is boiling? Simmer, simmer ♪

♪ It's Mom's doenjang stew ♪

♪ Mm-hm, a bowl of instant noodles ♪

♪ In front of the TV which plays nothing but static ♪

♪ Let's go anywhere together ♪

The singing ended in a nice silence, the only sound being the breaths being inhaled and exhaled.

“It was such a nice song,” Hyo-ryung said softly.

“Didn't you say that it sucked?” Dae-su countered.

“Well, now that I actually listened to it, I think it's kind of nice,” she reassured.

“That was encouraging, Dae-su,” Wu-jin told him and they exchanged a small laugh.

“How long… have you been smoking for?” You heard from beside you and looked to see On-jo looking at Nam-ra as she asked.

She looker over at her. “Since eighth grade. I had no friends and a lot of stress back then.”

On-jo looked at the fire as she tried to think of what to say in response. “Did you ever need a friend, though?”

“I’m not sure. I can’t really tell.”

“You always put up a wall. You'd wear your headphones all day, and you never said anything. Wasn't it because you hated us?”

“I never hated you guys,” Nam-ra dispelled. “I just… didn't have any friends,” she said. You gave a little sad smile and looked at the ground and as if she could sense your feelings of rejection, she kept going. “Up until (Y/n) came into my life, I was pretty much all alone. She was the first person I was sure I could call my friend.”

You smiled and knocked your shoulder into hers which she smiled back at you for.

“Well… I never really liked you,” Hyo-ryung spoke and ruined the moment which you glared at her for until she continued. “I thought you and (Y/n) didn't talk to us because we were beneath you.”

“I kind of hated you. There were times that I wished you would just disappear.” Joon-yeong confessed bitterly.

You grabbed Nam-ra’s hand underneath the blanket which she squeezed in appreciation. She didn’t let it show on her face but you could tell that it affected her.

“Aren't you close? You're the top two students,” Ji-min asked from beside him.

“That's why I hated her. No matter how hard I worked, I was always second,” he exclaimed frustratedly before he sighed. “But it's okay now. I think I was able to come in second, because of Nam-ra.”

“Hey. Second's good too,” Dae-su encouraged. “I can't even be 20th,” he turned to Su-hyeok and Wu-jin. “Right?” Su-hyeok’s hand let go of Wu-jin’s shoulder as he brought it to fist bump against Dae-su’s.

“I always thought you hated us too, (Y/n),” On-jo expressed. “You always seemed too quiet and were always glaring at people, but now you seem so different. What changed?”

You gave her a weak smile. “Nothing changed, actually. I only glared at people when they were being dicks. Have any of you ever actually seen me glare at you?” You looked around and everyone seemed puzzled before shaking their heads. “I never talked to anybody because nobody ever talked to me. What was the point in striking up a conversation when it seemed obvious nobody was interested,” you turned your head back to On-jo as you continued. “I don’t know if you remember, On-jo, but I actually talked to you about a week into freshman year. We talked for a little bit at the start of class until you asked me my name,” she looked shocked with realization as she remembered what you were talking about. “I told you it was Yoon (Y/n) and you got so scared you ran away and ended up transferring classes that entire year,” you laughed painfully and turned away from her, looking back at the fire.

“But you always seemed to act like your brother. You even bullied the bullies!” Ji-min pointed out with a questioning and disbelieving tone as she couldn’t believe what she had believed for the past 3 years was wrong. “Like Na-yeon! She was terrified of you!”

“I gave her a few talking to’s when I would catch her being mean so she would stop. Last year she was much worse but I like to think that I helped calm her down, even if just by a bit.”

Ji-min looked down at her lap in realization. She’d never considered you did all of that just to protect the people she ended up bullying.

After a blanket of silence settled over the group, this one much less comfortable than the last one, Hyo-ryung spoke up as she turned to Dae-su.

“Hey,” she started as she hit his arm. “You shouldn’t compare yourself to Joon-yeong.”

“Huh?” Dae-su asked.

“When you talked about being in 20th place. Don’t compare yourself,” she stressed and he scoffed.

“I was just saying. Why do you always get on my case whenever I say something?” He looked at her in, what he thought was, realization. “Wait a second. Do you like me?”

She scoffed and harshly slapped his upper arm which you smiled lightly at as the others laughed lightly.

“Shut up, you moron!”

“I'm going to put it out there, so you don't get hurt,” he warned. “I like somebody else. So don't like me.”

“I don't like you!” She complained and slapped him again as he held him arm. I'm not interested in you at all.”

“Dae-su. Who do you like, then?” Joon-yeong asked curiously and Dae-su sported a sheepish and shy smile.

Wu-jin groaned. “He's, he's a total freak.”

Su-hyeok pointed at Wu-jin’s head from above. “His sister.”

“Ha-ri from Archery?” Ji-min asked incredulously and he nodded. “You're insane.”

“I go crazy when I'm in love,” Dae-su cooed and Nam-ra looked down with a smile as you stared at Dae-su, your own smile gracing your face, but with a sadder, more longing, demeanor. “She's like my little Cupid.”

“Stop it,” Wu-jin laughed. “If we get out of here alive, I'm gonna tell my sister.”

Dae-su looked at him in shock at his words, reaching over to rest a hand on Wu-jin’s arm. “Will you really tell her?”

“Yeah,” Wu-jin confirmed.

“What?”

“To shoot and kill you. I said not to like my sister.”

“You can't do that to me, future brother-in-law,” Dae-su complained as he wrestled Wu-jin over Su-hyeok’s lap and tried to pull him into a headlock.

“You… Hey!”

“Will you tell her? Promise?”

“Yeah. To kill you.”

“Stop it. Seriously. I love her,” Dae-su told him and Wu-jin groaned.

“Whatever. Somebody else say something so I can forget everything that just happened within the last 2 minutes,” Wu-jin begged and everyone stayed silent and still until Ji-min spoke up.

“My mom and dad prepped everything for my transfer,” she started with a pensive look. “They said to just go to Seoul. But I really didn't want to go there. I wouldn't have had any friends, and I was afraid of the Seoul kids. I didn't know what to do,” she sighed. “Then On-jo gave me a great idea. She said I just had to cut school for five days. Then the principal can't write you a recommendation,” On-jo smiled at her words and looked down to her lap. “So that's what I did. It's all thanks to On-jo… that I didn't have to transfer.”

On-jo held up her hand in a peace sign and you smiled over at her and her adorableness.

“I should've just gone to Seoul.”

Ji-min’s voice brought your eyes over to her and her look displayed one more of bitterness now.

“Then none of this would have happened to me.”

On-jo’s fingers fell and you gave her a grim smile as she nodded solemnly to Ji-min’s words.

“People have always said…” Wu-jin started and the attention went back over to him. “My sister was an archery prodigy ever since she was little. So our parents only cared about trying to get my sister onto the national team. They've never paid attention to me at all.”

“I'll give you all my attention, brother-in-law,” Dae-su told him. “Don't be sad. You have me,” Dae-su groaned as Wu-jin pushed him backward so he was lying on his back. Su-hyeok had moved from sitting in between them during the scuffle they had so he was now sitting beside you. Wu-jin then laughed with a shake of his head.

“Thank God that I have Dae-su.”

The attention turned to Su-hyeok but he just shook his head to pass. Then the attention moved onto you.

“I’ve always been seen as my older brother’s little sister. I don’t think that I’ve ever been known as just (Y/n). If not the little sister of the infamous Yoon Gwi-nam,” you imitated puffing out your muscles to mock your brother in a lighthearted manner but it faltered and you just held your hands in your lap. “Then it was the youngest daughter of the Yoon family. My father, as I’m sure you all know by his reputation, is not a good man. Not only to everyone he meets but also to his own children. Growing up, Gwi-nam was the only one who would protect me from him. I guess I don’t really need that protection anymore. I’m sure my father’s probably in a safe haven hundreds of miles away from all of this. He always was a fucking coward,” you laughed bitterly and felt a hand grab your own. Looking over, your eyes traveled up from where the hand held your own and found that the hand connected to Su-hyeok. You smiled at him, your mood lifting slightly. You looked back at the fire with a small smile still gracing your face. “In other, happier, news; as of yesterday, I am officially 17 years old,” your smile dropped as you remembered the situation you were in. “Happy birthday to me…”

“Fuck…” You heard Su-hyeok whisper from beside you and you looked over to see him frantically looking around the roof, looking for something but you weren’t sure what.

“What? What is it?” You asked him and he shot up off the ground. He jogged over to a section of the roof and you all watched on with curiosity. You stood up when you saw him take a tarp off of something to reveal an opened picnic basket and a cooler that fell on its side, the contents seeming to have been taken. You walked over to him as he looked through the picnic basket with a worried expression before it faded to one of relief when he apparently found what he was looking for. “Su-hyeok,” you asked slowly and quietly as to not scare him. He looked up at you and hid the items in his hands behind his back. “Are you okay?”

“I… uh…” He looked around sheepishly for an excuse but you just rested a hand on his arm.

“What’s going on?”

The chatter from behind you had stopped, everyone emotionally investing themselves into the lives of their former outcasted classmate and one of their best friends.

Su-hyeok brought the items out from behind his back to reveal a small black velvet jewelry box and a beautifully drawn card that had the same drawing of the same girl that was on his notebook from yesterday on the cover. He tilted his head and gave you an unsure, quite frankly, adorable, smile. “Happy birthday?” He handed the gifts to your frozen body. You hadn’t been expecting anything like this. “I’m so sorry I forgot. With everything happening I wasn’t able to fulfill the plans I made for yesterday.”

“What were you going to do?” You asked him breathlessly.

He blushed and scratched the back of his neck, looking towards the ground where he kicked an imaginary rock. “I was planning on taking you up here to have you skip class with me and then after a while, I would confess to you.”

“Confess what?” You asked cluelessly and looked back at the group briefly as you heard some of them groan.

Looking back at him, his eyes locked onto yours and he took a step forward. Reaching his hands out, he took the gifts and set them down before grabbing your hands. Staring you deeply in the eyes while you blushed harshly at the way he was acting and how close he was to you. “Confess… that I’m in love with you, (Y/n),” you gasped but he continued. “I have been in love with you since the day I met you. I don’t expect you to share my feelings, but I would love to take you out on a date one day after all this is over and be able to call you mine.”

You stared at him for a moment and just as he sighed in rejection and let go of your hands to back away, you grabbed onto his tie and pulled him down to your level so you could kiss him.

He took a moment to return it, but once he did, he kissed you so softly and with so much more love than you could ever imagine. He pulled your waist into him, forcing you to stand on your tippy toes to reach him, and lifted one hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear before cupping your cheek gently. When you both pulled away, it was because you couldn’t contain your smile anymore and you hid your blushing face in his neck as you hugged him. He laughed and held you to him, one hand cupping the back of your head and the other wrapping around your waist.

“So is that a yes? May I call you mine?” He asked against your temple and you leaned back to give him a slight peck against the lips before smiling again.

“Yes, Su-hyeok, you may call me yours.”

The group behind you erupted into cheers and you flipped them the bird as you leaned down to pick up the gifts he had set down. Deciding to put the card in your pocket, considering it was small enough for it, you went back to sit down, Su-hyeok right on your trail, following after you like a love sick puppy, and returned to your original spots. This time, you were no longer sharing the blanket with Nam-ra and On-jo, but leaning against Su-hyeok as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. You looked down to open the box and gasped when you saw the beautiful golden necklace inside of it. You opened the locket to find one side filled with small dried flowers and the other side to be empty. You looked up at the boy holding you and he smiled down at you.

“I was hoping we could fill it with a picture of us,” he told you and you melted. Giving the necklace to him, he helped you put it on and you smiled up at him once more before turning back to the group who was looking at you like they were watching a soap opera.

You looked over to On-jo, only to see her smiling at you brightly. There was a tiny hint of disappointment in her gaze but mainly happiness for her two friends.

“Anyways! Onto the next person. What do you say prez? You wanna go next?” You teased Nam-ra lightly as she smiled at you compassionately, happy for your successes.

“I don't really have anything to say. I wouldn't really know… but I feel like I made friends.”

You smiled at her and held a hand out for her to take which she did before turning to look at On-jo who smiled at her reassuringly. The attention shifted over to Cheong-san as he put a stick into the fire before speaking. “Me and… On-jo…” He paused and sighed. “I just, well… I just want some water, really.”

“Not stuff like that,” Hyo-ryung complained. “Be completely honest.”

“Be completely honest,” Dae-su continued. “Do you like someone?”

Cheong-san took a moment to think before humming in approval.

“You do? For real?” On-jo asked and you smiled as you watched Cheong-san try to hide his feelings from the one person who didn’t know about them.

“Yeah.”

“Why do you keep on stalling? Do you have a crush?” She interrogated him.

“Uh, pretty much.”

“Pretty much? What does that mean? Who is she?”

You looked around to see everyone pretty much having the same expression on their faces. Joon-yeong smirked as he put another stick into the fire.

The two lovebirds stared at each other before Cheong-san looked away and dismissively said, “No one.”

“Who is she?” On-jo begged. “Do I know her?” She looked like she was putting on a teasing face for the group but you could hear the slight hesitation in her voice.

Maybe the love wasn’t as one sided as you thought it was.

“Who is it?”

“You… It's you, On-jo… I like you.”

On-jo looked stunned by the news and Dae-su’s mouth opened comically at the confession.

“Two confessions in one night?” He whispered dramatically.

On-jo scoffed at Cheong-san. “Hey. Stop that,” she turned back to the group. “He doesn't mean it. He's just kidding,” she gave a soft chuckle. “I mean, we were friends and neighbors since kindergarten, that's all,” she then turned back to him with a more serious face. What nobody could see except you and maybe Su-hyeok from the excited smile on his face was the dash of hope hidden within her eyes. “Stop joking.”

“I'm not joking,” he confirmed and she let out a shaky breath. “Ever since I was six years old, I've always liked you, On-jo. And I always will.”

“Awesome,” Dae-su expressed after a moment before On-jo got up and walked to the corner of the roof.

Cheong-san looked down in sadness and rejection before you lightly kicked his knee from his cross legged position. “Cheong-san,” he looked up at you and you pointed at On-jo while Su-hyeok tilted his head in her direction, the both of you encouraging him to go and talk to her.

As he stood up and walked over, Dae-su expressed his surprise into words. “Did you know? I had no idea.”

“You're the only one who didn't know,” Hyo-ryung explained to him.

“Everyone knew?

“Yes. I don’t know how you didn’t, you hung out with them everyday and I only saw it from across the classroom but I could still tell,” you told him and he just looked furrowed his eyesbrows.

“Why didn't I know?”

“I didn't, either,” Wu-jin told him to comfort him.

“Because you're you,” Hyo-ryung told the former boy with an eye roll that you laughed at.

“Cheong-san's so cool.”

The spoken boy soon walked away from the girl to stand on the other side of the roof, looking away from On-jo as she watched him longingly. You watched between the two of them as you wished they would just be able to accept each other’s feelings which they so obviously have. Although On-jo’s was more subtle and she obviously tried to hide it with her ‘feelings’ for Su-hyeok, you could tell that she had liked him back.

For much longer than just a while, too.

While distracted by your thoughts, they were brought out by Cheong-san screaming On-jo’s name. As you looked up, you saw the one and only Gwi-nam running across the rooftop towards Cheong-san who was running towards him too. They slammed into each other and Gwi-nam got the better of the situation by slamming Cheong-san onto the ground on his back.

“Cheong-san!”

~~~

| Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 |

~~~

Taglist!

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Lmk if you want to be added!

Special thanks to @loveforjen for reminding me to post this 😭😭 <3

[da-rulah]

Rituale Septem - Day 1: Lust

Pairing: (Terzo x f!reader)

Summary: You agree to partake in the Ritual of Seven, devoting yourself entirely to a sin each day. And Papa Emeritus III is there to guide you, starting with some harmless flirting to build up to day one...

Rating: Mature, MDNI 18+

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: Teasing, brief footsie, pent up lust, aggressive but consensual, lingerie, fingering, hair pulling, minor choking, fishhooking, p in v sex, squirting, creampie 

AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

Prev: Prologue | Next: Day 2 - Sloth

“You’re sure?”     “Yes.”  

“Double sure?” 

You sigh. “Yes!” 

“...Triple sure?” 

“Papa, yes! I’m sure. We’ve been over this. Just tell me what the rules are, how do I make sure I do this correctly?”  

You sat in another private meeting with Terzo, this one just over a week before the ritual was due to begin. You needed more information, you needed the rules and the quid pro quos ahead of time. No way were you going to mess this up... No silly little slip ups, nothing to derail your devotion. 

“Okay well, from my research I’ve figured out that it is one sin per day, beginning on October 25th. October 31st, you perform your final sin. They don’t need to be in any particular order, and you can either embody the sin yourself, or make somebody else perform the sin as long at it's with you. So uh, if you were to make someone else angry at you and then act on that – to His taste, of course – that would count towards wrath.” 

“Understood. Do we... plan these things?” you asked, wondering if it might be easier to map out which sin you would perform and how. Terzo looked up at you from the notes he’d created, sprawled out on his desk. He’d done extensive research; solo, to keep the prying and judgmental eyes of the clergy unaware of what was to come. This was your shared secret. 

His research had been difficult. There wasn’t a lot of readily available material on such a ritual. But then, there rarely was when it came to the rituals that invited Lucifer himself to talk directly to the subject. Still, when he found himself ready to give up on the matter he would remind himself of the desperation in your eyes, your tiredness, your devastation. And he’d remind himself of Sister Imperator’s doubt in him.  

It was plenty fuel to the fire. He would not give in. He would not let you down. 

“A plan, cara? Boring.” He smirked in your direction, “I shall plan a few things, I suppose, but I think it might be more fun if I surprise you. After all, who schedules sin?” 

You supposed he was right – for the ritual to work, the sins need to be genuine, to be authentic. You couldn’t simply force them. And Terzo was certainly more experienced in sin that you... Strangely, you trusted him. 

“Y-yeah, okay...” you mumbled in agreement.  

“Bene, then we will begin when the moment feels right on October 25th.” He stood from his desk, gathering his notes into a neat pile. He looked down at you, his eyes darkening and a smirk settling on his face. Before he dismissed you, he left you with what you could only imagine was a promise... 

“I’ll see you around, Sorella ...” 

October 17th  

Terzo had been making up excuses to have meetings with Secondo – which of course, you had to attend as his assistant. But there was a purpose for this, one that he considered to be an important one. 

He had no idea if you were attracted to him or not, if you had ever even looked at him in that regard. Usually it was fairly obvious to him, but with you... Secondo had kept you to himself, he hadn’t spent a whole lot of time around you to know if your eyes had ever wandered, if your thoughts were ever slightly impure towards him. And so, he needed to use the time he had left to woo you, essentially.  

He had eight days before the ritual was due to begin, and he was going to use every opportunity in those eight days to wind you so damn tight that when the 25th did roll around, neither one of you could keep yourselves apart for long.  

It was all in the anticipation. The chase. The temptation.  

In today’s meeting – a pointless endeavour that Secondo whined about, complaining this could have been a phone call or an email – Terzo refused to tear his eyes from you. Even when speaking to his brother, he would be staring at you. You tried to ignore it, to remain professional but you could feel his eyes burning into you, as if scorch marks were being left in trails over the skin he imagined exposing. 

Secondo noticed. There was no way he could not. But knowing his brother, Terzo had just decided you were the new object of fascination to him. He had no idea of the upcoming ritual, the agreement you’d made. He assumed his fratellino was just interested in pursuing you, the latest in a long line.  

“Terzo, if you could concentrate...” he grumbled. 

“I am concentrating, fratello,” he quipped, eyes still never leaving yours. You gulped and looked nervously between the two men.  

“On me, piccola merdina (little shit),” Secondo demanded. Terzo tore his eyes from yours slowly, inhaling through grit teeth as if it pained him to do so. “Grazie. ” 

Secondo continued to talk mindlessly about colours for drapery at the All Hallow’s Eve ball while you squirmed in your seat. You knew Terzo’s eyes kept flickering back to you, watching you, studying you. His gaze was heating your cheeks, setting your teeth on edge. He looked at you as if you were prey, like he was waiting for the opportune moment to pounce.  

You almost wished he would.  

Eventually, the meeting had to end. And by the time it did, Secondo was in a foul mood, annoyed at his brother’s actions. You must remember to thank Terzo for that later...  

As you were heading out of the door behind him, Terzo gripped your elbow, pulling you back against his chest as his brother stepped outside. Your gasp was muffled by a white glove slapping over your mouth to keep you quiet, avoiding suspicion.  

“I just wanted to tell you,” Terzo whispered into your ear, the warmth of his breath tickling your lobe and exposed neck. The hand on your elbow now dancing with the hem of your short skirt, the fabric of his gloves tickling your bare thigh underneath. “You look deliziosa (delicious) in this habit, sorella. Potrei mangiarti per intero se solo tu me lo permettessi (I could eat you whole, if only you would let me.)”  

And then he let you go, running on unsteady feet to catch up to your grumbling Papa ahead. 

It was now clear what he was doing. And not being one to back down from a fight, you silently took on his challenge. 

Game on, Papa.  

October 20th  

The monthly clergy dinner. This was your chance.  

Once a month, the clergy and papas – along with their assistants – would sit down for a meal together. After Papa’s little games in the last few days, teasing and gawking at you wherever he could, you figured this was the best time to get your revenge, to put the wheels in motion, so to speak. 

Because Papa had to be on his best behaviour here. 

You’d waltzed in with Secondo and sat in your seat opposite Terzo’s own assistant, Sister Christine. Papa sat at the head of the table, to your left. Secondo, to your right. You felt his eyes on you immediately, and you were almost certain you’d heard a ‘cazzo’ under his breath when his eyes fell on you.  

The monthly clergy dinner was an opportunity to wear something nice, other than your habits, as long as you kept your veil on to show your standing. So you picked something you figured Terzo may have a hard time ignoring. 

There was nothing wrong with the length of your dress, past the knees and quite conservative. But the way it exposed your shoulders, your collarbone and your breasts... That was where the struggle lay. The sleeves – more like separate gloves – began halfway down your bicep and hooked around your middle finger in a point, a deep red material to match the wine you were drinking. The neckline was level with the sleeves, your cleavage pushed up and on display, grucifix nestled nicely in between. Only when you walked in could he see the tight material clinging to your curves – once you were sat, he had nowhere to look other than your exposed shoulders and chest. 

When you had gone to Secondo’s office that evening to ‘pick him up’ for dinner, even his gaze had lingered a little too long. That’s how you knew this would work.  

“That’s a beautiful dress, Sister _____,” Christine pointed out, smirking as she noticed the look on her boss’ face. “That colour is sublime on you.” 

“Thank you, Sister. I’ve had it for a while and the occasion never really called for it, but I just thought to hell with it,” you toyed, leaning forwards on your elbows and subsequently pushing your breasts together to torment your poor Papa further. 

When the Ghouls brought out the meals, you took another opportunity. Making what you would call ‘yummy noises’, except... exaggerated. Wanton moans and little gasps with every new flavour as your painted lips wrapped around your fork.  

Papa’s hands tightened around his own cutlery, his jaw clenching as he glared at you.  

Secondo beside you was aware you were doing more than usual, but rolled his eyes and focussed his attention on Primo beside him. Perhaps he could have a mature discussion with him, instead.  

Terzo was struggling beside you, trying to remain professional, to keep up conversation with the cardinals and clergymen at the table. Cardinal Copia had tried to ask him what his plans for this Sunday’s Black Mass were and if he needed any help at all, but Terzo couldn’t think straight, claiming he hadn’t thought about it yet.  

Dessert nearly killed him.  

“Sorella, what do you think you’re playing at, eh?” he whispered to you when the Ghouls took your empty plates.  

“What do you mean, Papa?” you asked sweetly, right as you began to raise your heeled foot to graze against his inner calf. His eyes widened in shock – he'd never known you to be this bold, this provocative.  

You felt his legs part as he sat back against his chair, his eyes lingering on you, daring you to continue. And you did, raising your foot to the inside of his knee, able to manoeuvre your way to graze his inner thigh to about the halfway point before you could reach no further at the awkward angle.  

His gloved hand gripped your ankle under the table, tightly squeezing in warning before he pushed it away. You subsided, knowing you had won this one.  

You left him alone for the rest of the night to his sinful thoughts and dark glares your way. 

October 22nd  

You’d stayed out of Terzo’s way since the clergy dinner, hoping to build a little tension between then and when you would have to see him again at Black Mass.  

The Mass itself was uneventful. You sang the hymns, partook in the prayers like a good Sister should. And then came communion. 

You’d planned this already, and as you waited in line on your knees on the chapel steps beside your Siblings, your eyes homed in on Papa.  

You’d never noticed before, perhaps because you’d never really looked, but he looked incredibly powerful in his robes. Thinking of the way you were teasing your Papa recently, building the anticipation towards that first night together... it sent a pang of heat between your legs, and you shuffled in your spot. 

He came to you and remained professional. He was surrounded by siblings, cardinals, clergy... he couldn’t slip up. Not now. He had to remain stoic, no matter how torturous it was to have you on your knees before him... 

You stared up at him through your lashes, opening your mouth and laying your tongue out for him to place the little cracker on. As he did, you closed your lips around his thumb, sucking a little on the leather of his glove, the cold gold nails tasting like old pennies. His eyes hardened, and he retracted his hand quickly as if you had bit him.  

Around his thumb you could see the remnants of your red lipstick, and you smirked in triumph. He wiped his thumb on his robes before taking the chalice of wine from Cardinal Copia behind him – who whilst assisting him, had also noticed your little tease and gulped to himself at the sight – and tipping it against your lips.  

A droplet spilled from the corner, dribbling down your chin which you quickly caught with your finger and licked off, all the while holding eye contact.  

Terzo filed that image away for later of the red wine dripping down your chin. Information he could store for the future...  

But for now, he ignored you – and the aching hardness beneath his robes.  

October 24th  

He hadn’t anticipated you would be as feisty as you were, that you would play his little game with him and more so, end up winning. He couldn’t allow it. He had to try and get the upper hand.  

But he was already so pent up, refraining from indulging in any of the other Siblings or Ghouls since your agreement had been made. He hadn’t even jerked off, although that was getting more and more difficult to fight...  

The amount of teasing, of flirting and being downright obvious that you were both riling the other up was starting to get to his head and now even the slightest thing was enough to drive him wild about you. He felt like a caged animal.  

And so who could really blame him when he walked past you, alone in a hallway where you had smirked and avoided eye contact with him, and he had turned on his heels and dragged you by your elbow into the nearest alcove... 

He shoved you against the wall, his body covering yours and trapping you in the confined space. Before you had time to register what was happening or utter a single syllable, his mouth crashed against yours. 

His hands were on you, holding your hips against the wall as he pressed himself against you. You didn’t fight; frankly the willpower to fight it had dwindled days ago, and here he was giving you what you both wanted, what you’d both been working up to.  

You kissed him back with reverie, your fingers threading through his dark hair and pulling him impossibly closer. The need between your thighs grew incredibly strong with every roll of his hips against you. You were drowning in him, finally ... 

Terzo let out a low growl, fighting a battle in his head. He wanted you now. But if he could wait one more day... He had to wait one more day. 

With a grunt and a loud smack to the wall beside your head he pulled off you, smoothing his hair and walking off down the hall with a scowl on his face, as if nothing had happened. 

You leaned back against the wall panting, mouth agape in shock. He didn’t look back at you once, just rounded the corner leaving you with heart palpitations and a pooling feeling in your core... 

Tomorrow could not come soon enough.   

October 25th  

Today, it began.   

Your schedule was busy, which concerned you. You had work with Secondo, several meetings in the diary. But your evening was free, and you assumed that Terzo would find his way to you then. With just a few hours left until you gave in to him, until you could finally have him, you were incredibly on edge.  

It had taken you entirely too long to roll out of bed that morning, needing to hurry getting ready and haphazardly dressing in your pre-thought-out habit and veil – with a sneaky little surprise underneath... When you’d rushed to Secondo’s office, you barely made it in time for your first meeting of the day; a Latin curriculum debrief with Cardinal Copia you were due to take notes from. 

You liked the Cardinal, he was the kind of man who put you at ease. Mostly because he was so timid himself, a very sweet man who would try to brighten anyone’s day he could. You were glad when you’d been told he was your first meeting with Secondo, thinking maybe he could ease your anxiety. Alas, he seemed a little on edge himself, refusing to look you in the eye for too long at all. You couldn’t entertain it today – you focussed solely on your notes and the meeting at hand. 

The morning passed painfully slowly, drab meetings with bishops and cardinals alike dragging on as if the earth had slowed on its axis. When Secondo dismissed you for lunch, you let out a breath of relief.  

“I need you back before 1pm, Sorella. We have a meeting with Terzo at one o’clock sharp,” he stated plainly as he scribbled on some documents.  

Shit. This would be torturous.  

This had been a good idea at the time, an easy way in, to tempt you into coming back to him that evening. But Terzo had misjudged his decision wildly, not knowing when he’d put this meeting in Secondo’s diary that he would be down so fucking bad for you that every tiny little thing you did made him swoon like a touch-starved Victorian gentlemen. He was simply grateful he’d asked Sister Christine to run some errands for him today, and she wasn’t also present to witness his agony – she would have picked up on it immediately. 

He noted how uncomfortable you looked, squirming in the chair in front of his desk next to Secondo. He noted how you refused to look at him, busying yourself with a notebook and pen as Secondo droned on and on about the All Hallow’s Eve ball and the preparations. He noted how fucking beautiful you looked, with flushed cheeks and anxiously bitten lips.  

His composure was waning, eyes raking over your form as you bounced your leg nervously. Your thigh wobbled under your short skirt and with every bounce his muscles tensed in his body just a little bit more. You twirled your pen in your fingers, and he imagined what magic you could possibly do with them. You fidgeted in your place, hips circling to find a comfortable position to sit, and he wondered how it would feel if you’d been sat in his lap.  

Every. Tiny. Little. Thing. Was driving him to distraction.   

You’d never been so uncomfortable in your life, knowing Papa was watching you very closely. In your haste to get ready this morning, you hadn’t quite dressed yourself properly. The zipper at the back of your habit was digging in between your shoulder blades where it had been done up in haste. Your tights felt uncomfortable around your behind where they hadn’t been adjusted comfortably. Your veil kept slipping back on your hairline, not properly pinned to hide your hair.  

And with Terzo’s eyes scanning over you, a thick tension between you, you noticed these things even more.  

You sighed quietly to yourself as Secondo droned on about the menu options for the ball, reaching up to your veil to push it forwards on your head, covering your hairline again as you had at least six times in the last twenty minutes. It just would not stay. 

“Sorella, are you alright?” Secondo asked, noticing your exasperation.  

“Oh, sì, papa. Excuse me...” you smiled awkwardly, willing him to continue and pay no mind to you. He did just that, continuing his waffle. Terzo ignored him, eyes trained on you as the veil slipped again.  

This time you reached up, pulled it from your head, figuring you would just start a fresh. Your hair fell around your face, draping over your shoulders. Terzo would swear blind it happened in slow motion, like a scene in a shitty made for TV movie. But he couldn’t help the feeling of being punched in the gut, seeing you unveiled and exposed. How beautiful you fucking were...  

“Get out.”  

Both you and Secondo looked up at Terzo, his eyes dark and heavily lidded, staring you down.  

“Fratello, don’t be so rude. She is just adjusting her veil, she means no disrespect. I need her to stay,” Secondo protested, annoyed at his brother’s tone. How dare he speak to his assistant like this? 

“Not her. You.” His eyes never moved. His voice deepened. 

“Scusi? ” Secondo seethed.  

“Get. Out.” Terzo punctuated the words through grit teeth, annoyed that his brother hadn’t just disappeared in a puff of smoke like he so wished in that moment.  

Secondo looked at you, finding you staring back at Terzo with wide eyes and parted lips, holding your veil in one hand that was still raised by your head where it had paused as you’d slipped it off. His eyes darted between the pair of you, seeing that neither one of you moved, neither one looked in his direction.  

“Per l’amor di Satana (for the love of Satan),” he muttered and rolled his eyes, slamming his own notebook shut in his lap and standing quickly. The noise made you jump, suddenly looking up at your Papa. You wanted to speak, to ask he stay and apologise but Terzo’s hungry gaze stopped you.  

Secondo stomped out of the room, but not before turning back to the pair of you to find you looking at him like a scared little puppy dog and Terzo still staring only at you. 

“I need her back by 3:30pm, Fratellino. Or I will have your balls in a jar,” he warned, before slamming the door behind him.  

The silence that fell on you as you stared at the closed door your boss had just left through felt eerie, as if static electricity was building around you before a lightning strike.  

And strike, he would.  

He stood from his desk with a startling scrape of his chair. Your head snapped back to him, only to be met with a glare that should have terrified you. Except, it only excited you... The embers of arousal that had been simmering on a low heat for the last week since he’d first caught your elbow and whispered sweet temptations to you were being stoked – by a simple glare.  

He didn’t move though. Instead, he lifted his hand, curling his finger and beckoning you to him. Wordlessly, you rose from your seat slowly, laying your notebook and pen on the chair behind you and playing nervously with your veil you still held as you watched him.  

“Here,” he pointed at his desk, prodding his gloved finger on the wooden surface before him. You stepped around, squeezing between him and the desk – he hadn’t left much room to work with intentionally, enjoying the way you tried hard to evade brushing your chest against his with a smirk etching into his paints. You leaned against the wood, waiting for further instruction. 

“I’m sure you’ve been intentional, Sorella. Well played,” he congratulated, his voice dark and lower than usual. He pressed himself against you, leaning both his fists on the wood either side of you, trapping you. “But perhaps you have done too well in tempting me, eh? Because I simply cannot hold myself back any longer...” 

“I...I...” you stuttered, wanting to reply and fumbling any kind of sense. 

“We begin with lust,” he announced, and that was when the static in the room came to a head, and lightning struck. 

His lips were on you in a suffocatingly heated kiss, hands gripping onto your habit at your hips and shoving you against his own. You too were so pent up from the week of teasing and flirting with each other you matched his ferocity, allowing the lust you’d built to spill over. Your hands were in his hair in a flash, pulling him to you by his roots and he groaned into your pliant mouth. 

You were under no illusion that this would be particularly romantic, nor that it would last particularly long, but what you hadn’t expected was Terzo’s desperation for you to match your own. 

He crouched slightly, picking you up by the swell of your backside and shoving you onto the desk to step between your thighs. You could feel his erection against your core, and already you couldn’t help the mewl that fell from your mouth. He chuckled as he disconnected his lips from yours for a moment, allowing you to breathe and for more little whimpers to escape as he ground himself into you again.  

“Sorella, would you like to know a secret?” he asked as he sloppily kissed the corner of your mouth and under your jaw... 

“Mhmm...” was all you could muster. 

“Since you agreed to the ritual, I haven’t had another sibling,” he admitted between kisses, “haven’t touched myself once.” 

His confession swam in your mind; he’d saved himself for this. Sure, it had only been a little over a week, but you thought for sure he would have taken his frustrations out on another sister if he couldn’t yet have you.  

“All I wanted was you, Sorella. Was this...” he growled as his hand dove between your thighs to what he’d truly wanted for the last nine days. Somehow, he’d found his way under your habit, cupping his palm against you and grinding it into your clit, still hidden by your tights and underwear.  

“Papa...” you moaned, unwilling to stay quiet at all. “I need you.” 

The dark laugh that vibrated against your neck where his trail of kisses ended raised goosebumps on your skin.  

“And whose fault is that, hm?” he quipped. “You rile your Papa up and then beg him for release?” he straightened up, smirking down at you. “Is that how this works?” 

“I’m... I’m sorr-” 

Before you could finish his lips were back on yours, his hand retracted from your core much to your dismay but now unzipping the back of your habit and dragging it down over your shoulders. He exposed you to him, although with his eyes shut as he dragged his tongue across your bottom lip, he was yet to see just what you’d worn for him. 

But he was an impatient man after what you had put each other through, and to rip the rest of your habit from you he would need to see what he was doing, lift you to slide it from around your ass. But when he laid eyes on you, his stopped dead, fabric sitting at your hips instead. 

"Shit ...” 

You weren’t sure if Terzo was a lingerie kind of man, but then again, what man was not a lingerie kind of man? Your suspicions were proven when he saw what you were wearing for him.  

A deep purple bra, made of mesh to leave nothing to the imagination, with an embroidered snake on each of the cups. The exact same purple as his Papal robes, hung up in a glass cabinet against the back wall of his office.  

“Is this new, dolcezza ?” he asked, running a finger under one of the straps.  

“Sì, Papa... The purple-” 

“Matches. How sweet of you...” he grinned wickedly. “Is it part of a set?” he arched an inquisitive eyebrow. His spare hand lifted the skirt of your habit, running his glove along the top of your thigh and pushing the material higher and higher until he got a peak at more purple fabric, darkened by your sheer black tights.  

“Do you like them?” you teased, leaning back on your hands and spreading your legs to give him a better view of the purple mesh that did nothing to hide your glistening folds, meant for tempting and not for practicality.  

“Oh, but Principessa, I can’t see them properly...” he pouted, when suddenly his hands gripped the material of your tights on your inner thighs and ripped.   

The fabric didn’t stand a chance, a large hole tearing around your inner thighs and crotch to expose the rich purple of the mesh that covered you. You let out a squeak in shock, the feral nature of it forcing your walls to flutter in arousal. 

“Better. Now...” he held his fingers in front of your lips, horizontal, “bite.”   

You did as instructed, biting gently on his fingers. He started to retract his hand, his white glove stuck between your teeth as he shimmied his fingers out of it. Then, he rolled the sleeves of his pale pink long-sleeved shirt up his to his elbows, exposing the dark hair and veins of his strong arms. 

“Brava ragazza, keep it there. You drop that, you’re in trouble...” he booped you on the nose playfully, and suddenly that very same bare hand dipped between your thighs, pushing the mesh to one side and dragging a line through your folds with his middle finger.  

The moan you let slip would have been pornographic if not for the glove you kept tightly locked in your jaw, your head lolling back and eyes fluttering shut. Terzo leaned into your now exposed neck, sinking his teeth into the flesh and sucking as his fingers continued to work you over, circling your clit in just the way you liked.  

“I had plans for you, Principessa,” he mouthed against your neck as he spoke between each deep bruise he left, “but I’m afraid I can’t control myself much longer.” 

The way his fingers felt against your entrance as he began to tease your quivering hole was euphoric, you wanted nothing more than to sink down onto the digits and take your pleasure from him where you sat. But he had other ideas. 

“Still, you will cum on your Papa’s fingers first, sì? I will be sure of that,” he promised, finally sliding two fingers inside you. With how soaked you were, you took them with ease, back arching and pressing your chest against him. His lips mouthed wet and sloppy kisses from where the purple bruises had formed on your neck – prettily matching your chosen lingerie – down to your sternum and over the curve of your breasts.  

Terzo began curling his fingers inside you, manoeuvring in search of that spot inside you that could make you see stars. Having never been with you before, he didn’t know what made you tick, what made you feel good. But he was going to find out and take mental notes. When he found it, you sure let him know... 

“F-fuck, Papa...” you whined, stuttering as your head flew forward to look down between you, seeing his hand buried deep within you. You kept his glove tightly between your teeth still. 

“There she is, eh?” he smiled smugly. Now he knew where, he began his vicious assault between your thighs. Over and over again, he curled his fingers and hit that same spot. You couldn’t help the moans, the way your fingernails dug into his bicep beneath his shirt, the way your forehead fell against his shoulder. And when his thumb began to work over your clit in smooth, calculated circles... You lost your damn mind.  

“Papa!” you cried, glove long forgotten by both of you as it dropped to the floor. Your hips bucked wildly against him where you sat against the desk. He grunted as he bit the mesh of your bralette, pulling it down to expose your nipple to him and latching his lips around it. As he began to suck, laving his tongue over the nub intermittently, he couldn’t help but rut his bulge against your knee. He was so desperate for you, but he wanted you cumming on his fingers first, with good reason.  

He knew that to have you cum before he sank into your heat would make you so much wetter, filthier, tighter. And the second orgasm on his cock would warp your mind completely.  

Yes, that’s what he craved.  

Your thighs began to shake, vibrating your knee against his clothed cock as his fingers worked furiously to drag an orgasm from you. His sloppiness as his mouth engulfed your nipple grew tenfold at the sinful noises you made for him, a litany of profanity and his title rolling from your lips. He could feel your walls clenching around his fingers, fluttering and producing a seemingly never-ending slew of slick he could use to his advantage, particularly on your clit as his thumb gathered it to use against you.  

“Cum for me, Principessa,” he barked as an instruction, “NOW!”  

As if you had given him the control over your body, you obeyed. The coil in your abdomen snapped, walls clenching Terzo’s fingers so tightly he could barely drag them out of you, only able to curl them to keep up his stimulation. Your hand flew to his wrist and squeezed, terrified he might retreat too soon, but he wouldn't dare.  

“Brava ragazza, la mia Principessa... (good girl, my princess),” he growled, still rutting himself against your knee, just slower in time with his hand slowing to a stop as you came back down. He stood up straight in time to catch you slumping against his chest, nuzzling into the soft fabric of his shirt.  

When he slipped his fingers from you, he tilted your head up to look at him from below, and slipped his slicked digits into his mouth, holding eye contact with you as you watched him clean your essence from him.  

“Così dolce, (so sweet...)” he hummed. You giggled, breathless. He’d knocked the wind out of you, for sure. But you knew he wasn’t done with you yet, as whilst he had stilled his hips against you, he was still pressed against your leg. And you could feel his thickness, waiting... 

“Papa... You haven’t seen my favourite part of my outfit,” you teased, words forming slower than normal in your hazy state.  

“Oh?” he was confused, until you gathered yourself, standing from the desk and shrugging your habit off you completely to the floor. You pushed him back with just one finger, his confusion making him pliant and intrigued, following your instruction. You smirked, and turned around, laying your chest flat against the wood of his desk.  

You heard a gasp from behind you.  

The mesh panties you were wearing as part of your set were not simply just mesh across your backside. Instead, two embroidered purple snakes – much like the ones on the bralette – faced each other, one on each cheek of your ass.  

The view Terzo had was impeccable, ripped tights allowing only some of the purple to be as bright as the rest, but he could clearly see where your panties were still pushed to one side, your glistening and swollen folds on display for him. You were presenting yourself to him, to use as he deemed fit.  

“Cazzo, Principessa... Look at you, eh?” He bit the end of his remaining glove on his middle finger, pulling it off in one quick motion and dropping it to the floor so he had both of his hands bare. He stepped towards you then, both hands ghosting over the roundness of your ass. He pulled more at the tights, ripping a bigger hole to expose more of you.  

He was taking too long for your liking, lost in the sight of you but you needed him so desperately. You couldn’t deny the ever-present lust brewing once again inside.  

“Papa, don’t you want me?” you whined, wiggling your ass in his hands to tempt him further. You heard a dark chuckle behind you.  

“Just enjoying the view, Principessa...” you felt his hands retreat, heard a zipper and fabric rustling.  

Then you felt him... Slicking himself up between your folds, his head teasing where you needed him. You pushed back a little against him as his head caught on your entrance, barely pushing onto him when he decided he couldn’t fucking wait any longer. He needed to feel you on his cock. 

His bare hands gripped your hips and his pelvis pushed against you, his length sinking inside you in a swift motion, knowing you were ready for him. You heard his grunt, imagined him biting his lip behind you as he stilled and struggled to remain composed, muffled whimper following his initial grunt.  

Lucifer, you felt incredible. Had he known your pussy could feel this good, he would have claimed you as his long ago.  

Slowly, he began to thrust inside you, filling you over and over again. He drove his hips down, knowing now where that damned spot inside you was and driving his cock home with every thrust.  

Terzo was a very vocal lover, usually. He liked to talk his conquests through it, loved to praise them, degrade them, anything to make them squeeze around his cock but right now? He could barely form a sentence, wordless grunts and moans all he could manage.  

“P-Papa...” you cried, “f-feels... so good.” His hips quickened their pace, the force becoming enough to slap his skin against yours as his pelvis met the flesh of your ass. He watched your cheeks ripple with every thrust, committing the motion to memory in case he never got this chance again.  

He knew your first orgasm would do this to you... make you sopping wet for him, tighter, more sensitive. He would have smirked smugly if his face wasn’t permanently carved in a look of pure pleasured anguish. His plan had worked a little too well, his own lust for you too much and rendering him frankly animalistic. With all the teasing, all the flirting leading up to this moment he almost couldn’t believe he was here, and yet, your walls clenching on his shaft and creaming at the base of his cock was the stark reminder that yes, he had won his prize.  

As much as he adored watching his cock disappearing into you over and over, he needed to see your face again. He needed you closer.  

He slid a hand down the curve of your back. Running his fingers through your hair before wrapping it around his fist and pulling you up, chest leaving the desk. You grabbed his wrist for added stability, the sting of your roots being pulled adding a delicious toxicity to the moment. He pulled you back until your shoulders met his still clothed chest, and your face was exposed when your head lay back against his shoulder.  

The look in his eyes should have frightened you, the lust clouding them over and what could easily be mistaken for anger etched into his face. But it wasn’t anger, it was restraint. He was desperately trying not to cum too soon, savouring every second.  

“Look at you, eh?” he growled, “you look so fucked out, Principessa...” You couldn’t reply, just whimpered as the free hand on your hip slid up to rest over your neck and squeezed. You gasped at the pressure, not enough to make breathing a struggle but enough to excite you and earn Terzo another squeeze on his cock. He smirked at the feeling, knowing now that you liked that ... 

That very same hand reached up a little further, pushing two fingertips to your lips and opening your jaw up for him. He hooked them both past your teeth, holding your jaw open slightly while he mouthed at the corner of your lips, hips so furiously fucking into you your whimpers came out as little screams.  

Frankly, Terzo had lost control. The need to cum, to make you cum again was visceral and his brain wasn’t functioning, too much blood flowing to his cock. Lust had taken over the pair of you entirely. 

At this pace, his assault on your g-spot was violent but so welcome, and when your orgasm hit you again, your eyes rolled back into your head, body going slack and convulsing in his arms. Tears dripped down your cheeks, eyes tightening shut as you screamed for him around his fingers. You didn’t know you possibly could, but your pussy squirted as he continued his stimulation, pace never slowing, but the noise that came out of him...  

It was like a demon had crawled into him from hell itself.  

When he felt the wet splash on his thigh, he lost what sliver of composure he had left and roared as he too climaxed, your walls contracting and dragging him back in with every thrust. His seed spilled inside, mixing with the mess you’d both already made and dripping from between you, hitting the floor between his feet.  

Whilst his thrusts slowed to keep his and your orgasms prolonged, the strength of them didn’t waver. And with each, he punctuated it with a noise that sounded something between a whimper and a grunt. His arms had tightened around you, grip on your hair pulling at your scalp with each final thrust. 

When he finally stilled, he didn’t let go immediately, scared that if he did you may slam onto the desk below you and him to the floor, completely boneless.  

You both caught your breath for a moment, and when he did finally loosen his grip it was to slip out of you and pull you back against him when he slumped in his chair behind him. Wordlessly and still panting, he pulled you to sit in his lap curled into his chest. He didn’t care about the mess still seeping from your ruined cunt. He knew you’d need him close, comforting you. 

And you certainly did. You nuzzled into his shirt, damp with sweat and now, your tears. Terzo wrapped his arms around you, hand stroking your hair as he whispered how good you’d been for him in your ear.  

Given a few minutes, you were coming around again to being yourself. You sat up in his lap, looking back at his face – his makeup was ruined with sweat and smudged particularly around his lips where he’d mouthed at your skin. You couldn’t help the giggle that came out. 

He chuckled with you, pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing his thumb and finger into his eyes as if to clear them. His head rolled back to lay against the high back of his chair, eyes on you.  

“Well, I would say that was to the Old One’s tastes, eh?” You nodded in agreement, smiling shyly.  

“Thank you,” you mumbled, biting your lip.  

“For what, Principessa?” Ah, so he was still calling you that. Well, good. You quite liked that. “Orgasm number one, or orgasm number two?”  

Smug bastard.

You swatted his chest, hiding your blush. “For helping me. Y’know... with the ritual.”  

The smugness of his smirk faded into a softer smile, hand coming to pinch at your chin lightly.  

“Prego, dolcezza... (You’re welcome, sweetie...) ” he winked. “Could you reach into that drawer there, for me?” he asked, pointing at a drawer to the left-hand side of his desk. You did as asked, opening it up to find a clipboard and a pen under the clip. When you looked, it was a list. 

A list of all seven sins you were to perform.   

You handed it to him, shaking your head in a silent laugh. He grinned stupidly and unclipped the pen, biting the cap off before spitting it to the ground and crossing off the first of the seven – Lust.   

His eyes flicked up to you once more, and he flipped the board around so you could see.  

“One down, six to go...” 

Prev: Prologue | Next: Day 2 - Sloth

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