#male to fire elemental | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

solxamber · 6 months ago

Text

Trash Novel Chronicles: Not Another Royal Mess - Azul Ashengrotto x reader

As a proofreader who gets isekai’d into a cringeworthy novel, you decide to take revenge on the heroine and male lead for their awful story. With Azul—who just wanted to sell you a magic rock—pulled into your chaos.

Series Masterlist

You stare blankly at the manuscript in front of you, feeling your soul slowly withering away, shriveling like an overcooked raisin under the weight of yet another tragic tale of misguided villainy. The title alone—The Villainess Who Was Actually Just Trying to Mind Her Own Business and Got Beheaded Anyway—had already set the tone for what you could only describe as a disaster in prose form. How this had slipped through several rounds of quality control was beyond you.

Maybe it was a prank. Maybe it was revenge. You couldn’t tell anymore.

You take a deep breath, a sigh so deep that it feels like it's being dragged up from the depths of your very soul, a sigh that could only be summoned by a story so ridiculous, so absolutely bonkers, that even you—seasoned proofreader extraordinaire—were questioning every life choice that had brought you here.

"Okay," you mutter to yourself, flipping through the pages with all the energy of a reluctant retiree trying to pick up knitting. "Let's see. We’ve got your standard fantasy kingdom where every noble is born with elemental powers. Classic. The saintess is the only one who can wield all four elements. Cool, cool, makes sense." You pause, eyes narrowing. "Except for the villainess who's faking it with a magical rock she bought off of Fantasy Craigslist and just... does all the same stuff the saintess can do without actually, you know, saintess-ing anything bad. Just... being suspiciously good at wind and fire, I guess?"

You squint at the text like it’s personally offended you. "So let me get this straight. The heroine—who, by the way, isn’t the real saintess—finds out about the rock and immediately turns into the nation’s tattletale. Like, she just full-on rats the villainess out to the entire country and gets her beheaded for daring to do an accidental cosplay of a saintess? Seriously?"

You blink. "And the prince? The so-called male lead? He’s not even mad because the villainess was evil or anything. No. He’s mad because she... rejected him? Oh, so that’s the crime. She bruised his precious princely ego, so naturally she deserves to lose her head. Makes perfect sense. Absolutely logical," you deadpan, flipping another page with growing disdain.

“And just when you think it can’t get any dumber,” you continue to mutter, “the heroine uses the exact same magic rock after she gets the villainess killed, struggles to use half the power, but instead of everyone questioning her, they just...” You drag a hand down your face. “They just... pat her on the back for her effort? What? Oh, bravo! Standing ovation! You’re so talented! What a genius!”

You want to scream. You can feel it building up inside you, a primordial rage that no amount of fantasy drivel can suppress. How... how did this get published? How did someone not raise their hand and go, “Hey, maybe the heroine is the real villain here? And maybe the villainess is just really good at rock collecting?”

Your eye twitches.

Then you get to the part where Azul Ashengrotto—a.k.a. the business owner and kingpin of the information and assassination game—gets dragged down in this hot mess of a plot for the crime of selling a magical rock. He’s not even involved in the drama. He just sold a crystal, did his job, and suddenly he’s collateral damage in this ridiculous farce. And beheaded. You slap the manuscript down on your desk, nearly choking on the sheer absurdity of it all.

“He sold a rock!” you yell to no one. “One. Rock! And he loses his head because the heroine doesn’t know how to mind her own damn business! And no one bats an eye?”

You imagine Azul, standing there with a bemused expression as the sword comes down, probably muttering something like, "Well, this is an unfortunate turn of events."

You shake your head, unable to wrap your mind around the sheer audacity of it all. "So, let me get this straight. The heroine kills the villainess out of jealousy and rage, takes the same stone, uses it poorly, and somehow becomes the saintess? And no one questions it? Not even one guy in the back going, ‘Hey, wait a minute...’?"

A laugh escapes you, bitter and incredulous. "I’ve lost all faith in fantasy kingdoms. They deserve what’s coming to them. Honestly, if their idea of justice is to murder anyone with a shiny rock collection, they probably deserve whatever apocalyptic disaster is waiting in book two."

You sit back in your chair, contemplating the many ways you could disappear off the face of the Earth to avoid reading the inevitable sequel. Maybe you could fake your own death? Dramatically crash through a window with a glitter bomb, leaving behind a cryptic note that reads, “Gone to buy a rock, brb.”

But no. You were a professional. You would soldier on.

Then again, if this novel could get published, maybe it was time to start your own writing career. Surely you could cobble together something halfway decent. Maybe a story about a villainess who just wants to live her life and ends up getting murdered by a heroine with a major inferiority complex. Oh wait, that’s literally this garbage fire in front of me.

You sigh again, this one even deeper, more existential than the last, the type of sigh that could bring about world peace if properly harnessed. Your eyes wander from the steaming pile of poorly written drivel, caught somewhere between disbelief and mild homicidal thoughts. You rub your temples, wondering if proofreading was really the best career path for someone who still had shreds of sanity left.

"Maybe I should've been a baker," you mumble to yourself, stretching your arms overhead. "At least bread dough doesn’t hit me with nonsensical plot twists."

As you stand, ready to grab a snack to soothe your wounded soul, you don’t notice the precariously stacked pile of villainess novels towering on the shelf above your desk. The entire collection of "disaster-bound fantasy heroines and their poor life choices" sways ever so slightly as you brush against the table, and then... it happens.

One moment you're contemplating the logistics of moving to a remote island where bad writing can’t reach you, and the next, you hear a spine-chilling creak followed by a horrifying cascade of poorly bound paperbacks. The avalanche of literary mediocrity comes crashing down on you in one tragically comedic sweep.

"Are you kidding me—" is all you manage to choke out before the entire bookshelf’s worth of subpar villainess novels crushes you beneath their illogical weight. And of course, because the universe has a sense of humor, the last book to hit you in the face is titled, "The Villainess Who Tripped and Fell into her Own Grave—Oops!"

As the darkness closes in, your final thought is one of supreme exasperation: I cannot believe I’m being killed by the worst plotlines ever written. Death by plot twist. Too soon, yet not soon enough.

And then nothing. Just silence. Peace, finally.

You’d heard the phrase "no rest for the wicked," but honestly, who knew divine punishment was this over the top? Apparently, you'd racked up enough sins in your previous life to not only die under an avalanche of bad literature but to then be reincarnated into said literature. Because why not? The gods were clearly having a laugh.

When you open your eyes, you're not even phased. Nope. You don’t scream, cry, or panic. You just stare up at the overly ornate ceiling of what is clearly a mansion because, of course, the villainess is always absurdly rich. You're lying in an obnoxiously fluffy bed, and the first thing that pops into your mind is: Are you serious?

A quick glance in the mirror confirms it. There you are, standing in the overly frilly shoes of the villainess from the very same garbage novel that ended your life. Perfect. You take a deep breath, rub your temples (again), and give yourself a mental pep talk. "Okay, you’ve read this before, multiple times. You know the beats. You know the plot. You’ve got this."

Step one: don’t freak out. Because, really, this plot is bad enough without adding your personal panic to the mix. Step two: check the villainess's diary because, obviously, the previous inhabitant was stupid enough to leave all her secrets lying around like a teenager's unlocked Facebook account. Sure enough, you find it: a gloriously leather-bound journal detailing all the times plotted to impersonate the saintess. You roll your eyes. Not today, Satan.

You scan the pages, checking the timeline. You have a few months until the heroine rats you out, which means it’s time for step three: revenge. And no, you don’t mean the "oh, woe is me" type of revenge that makes you spiral into despair. You mean good old-fashioned pettiness, the kind that makes the heroine and the male lead’s lives miserable.

You can't help but snicker at the thought. It's karmic justice, really. They’re going to get a taste of the absolute horror you experienced reading their terrible, nonsensical love story. You spent hours proofreading their idiocy, now it's their turn.

You stand in front of the towering, ominous doors of Azul Ashengrotto’s office at Mostro Lounge, taking a deep breath before pushing them open. The dark, almost theatrical ambiance inside feels like a stage set for the devil himself to offer you a deal. But you’re no saintess—you’re the villainess of this story, and you’re here to strike a deal that’ll flip the entire script on its head.

Azul looks up from his desk, his eyes widening slightly as he takes in your presence. “Ah, My Lady,” he greets smoothly, slipping into that charming, calculating smile of his. “What brings you to my humble establishment? Shouldn't you be busy pretending to be a saintess?"

You roll your eyes and take a seat without waiting for an invitation. "About that... I've decided to cancel my order for the magic stone."

Azul’s expression falters. “Cancel the order? But aren’t you the one planning to impersonate the saintess and secure your place in the royal court?”

You lean back in your chair, a smirk playing on your lips. “Well, plans change. I’ve come to realize that there's a much better way to spend my time and resources—mainly, by humiliating the heroine and the prince for fun.”

Azul blinks at you, the corners of his lips twitching as if he’s not sure whether to laugh or be intrigued. “You... want to humiliate the heroine and the prince?”

You shrug, a gleam of mischief in your eyes. “Why not? They’re gonna be responsible for my end if I impersonate the saintess. I’ve already decided that instead of dying gracefully, I’m going to make their lives miserable. And that’s where you come in.”

Azul folds his hands on his desk, the smile growing on his face. “I see. And what exactly do you expect me to do?”

You pull out a blank cheque, sliding it across his desk. “Whatever you want. My family is wealthy, and my parents will gladly dance upside down on a chandelier if I asked them to. Write any amount you want, but you’re going to help me with my new plan.”

Azul’s eyes flicker with interest as he glances at the cheque. “And what exactly would that plan entail?”

“I want you to sabotage them,” you say simply. “The heroine, the prince—they’re going to suffer public humiliation. Every time they try to play the part of the perfect couple or flaunt their status as the so-called chosen ones, I want you to make sure they fail spectacularly. We’re going to tear apart their reputations piece by piece, and I need your expertise.”

Azul leans back in his chair, tapping a finger to his chin. “That sounds... intriguing. But I do believe I’ll need a bit more than just money to make this worth my time.”

“Name your price,” you reply coolly. “Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

Azul’s smile widens, but it’s sharp. “I’ll take a hefty sum, of course. Let’s say... one hundred thousand gold. But I’ll also require two wishes that I can cash in at any time.”

Your brow arches. “Two wishes? And what exactly do you plan to use them for?”

Azul’s smile turns positively devilish. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll think of something. It could be anything—information, a favor, perhaps something more. Who knows? I just want to keep my options open.”

You weigh the deal for a moment, then nod. “Fine. Two wishes and one hundred thousand gold. But I want results, Azul. Don’t disappoint me.”

Before he can respond, the door behind you slams open with a bang, and Floyd Leech strolls in, grinning ear to ear like a shark who’s just spotted its next meal. “Heh, you’re funny, Shrimpy,” he says, eyeing you with amusement. “This whole ‘let’s humiliate the prince and his little heroine’ thing? I like it. I’ll help. I wanna see the look on their faces when they get wrecked.”

Azul sighs dramatically. “Floyd, this is a delicate matter. You can’t just go around—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Floyd cuts him off, draping himself across your chair like a lazy cat. “But c’mon, wouldn’t it be more fun if I helped? We can make it real painful for ’em. How 'bout it, Shrimpy?”

You can’t help but chuckle at his enthusiasm. “Honestly? I wouldn’t mind having you on board, Floyd. Your brand of chaos could be exactly what I need to really make them squirm.”

Floyd grins wider, nudging you playfully. “Now we’re talkin’! See, Jade? Shrimpy’s got taste.”

You glance over to where Jade is standing, quietly watching the entire exchange with a serene smile. “I’m not surprised,” he says in his calm, unsettling way. “After all, our esteemed client clearly knows how to turn a situation in their favor. It’s rather... admirable.”

You shoot Jade a look. “Please don’t make that sound like an insult.”

Jade chuckles softly. “Not at all. I find your tactics fascinating. I’ll be quite interested to see how this all unfolds.”

Azul clears his throat, clearly ready to bring the conversation back on track. “Well, if that settles it, we have a deal. Two wishes and one hundred thousand gold. Floyd and Jade will assist you, and I’ll personally oversee the sabotage.”

You grin, satisfied. “Perfect. Let’s give those two a taste of what real humiliation feels like.”

Azul inclines his head. “Pleasure doing business with you, my dear client.”

As you get up to leave, Floyd playfully bumps your shoulder again. “Heh, I like you, Shrimpy. Let’s make sure that prince and his girl get what’s coming to ’em. It’ll be a real laugh.”

You smirk as you make your way out of the office. “Oh, trust me, Floyd. This is going to be spectacular.”

And with that, the stage was set. The heroine and her precious prince had no idea what was coming their way. But you did—and with the help of the mischievous trio from Mostro Lounge, you were going to enjoy every second of it.

The royal ballroom glistened with opulence as golden chandeliers hung above the vast marble floors, reflecting the lavishness of the night. The music was soft yet upbeat, a perfect backdrop for the event of the season. Nobles twirled gracefully around the room, engaged in light conversation as they eyed one another with thinly veiled curiosity. You stood at the entrance, the heavy doors creaking behind you as you took a deep breath.

The villainess in this world had been a little too subtle for her own good—dresses that were elegant but far too modest, more befitting of someone trying to sneak through the ranks as a saintess. But you? You had other ideas. You weren’t about to blend into the background. Oh no, tonight was all about making a splash.

The dress you wore was nothing short of a masterpiece. The neckline plunged just enough to be daring, the skirt flaring dramatically around your legs as you moved. The villainess had always had potential, you realized as you caught your reflection earlier that evening. With a little effort, she'd looked like a queen.

And apparently, that effort wasn’t lost on the crowd. Conversations stuttered to a stop as you walked in, eyes swiveling toward you like moths to a flame. A smirk tugged at your lips. Good. They could look all they wanted. Tonight, you were more than the villainess. You were a force to be reckoned with.

Of course, it didn’t take long for the male lead—Prince Arrogant-Entitled himself—to notice. He’d been chatting animatedly with the heroine, a sweet little thing dressed in pastels, who was practically bouncing on her feet with excitement.

But the moment you crossed the threshold, his gaze latched onto you like a leech, his conversation with the heroine cutting off mid-sentence as he abandoned her entirely. His eyes scanned you up and down with blatant appreciation, and you felt an unpleasant shiver crawl down your spine as he made his way toward you.

Sleazy little worm.

“My Lady,” he greeted you, standing too close for comfort. His voice dripped with what he likely assumed was charm. “You look ravishing tonight. I must say, your beauty is... overwhelming.”

You kept your expression neutral, though internally you gagged at his lackluster attempt at flirtation. The heroine, meanwhile, was glaring daggers from across the room. Not that it bothered you. Let her seethe.

You plastered on a fake smile, playing along for now. “Your Highness,” you replied, “I must say, your compliments are as subtle as ever.”

He laughed, his hand reaching out as if to brush your arm, but you sidestepped it gracefully. “You wound me, my lady,” he said, clearly trying to maintain the upper hand. “Would you honor me with a dance?”

You opened your mouth to deliver a polite but firm rejection, when suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the tension with the smoothness of silk.

“Ah, apologies, Your Highness,” Azul’s voice was a breath of fresh air as he sidled up beside you, his arm slipping around your waist with practiced ease. “I’m afraid my date for the evening is already spoken for.”

The prince's face dropped, the smile frozen awkwardly as Azul’s words sunk in. You could see the wheels turning in his head, trying to process how exactly this turn of events had occurred. “Your... date?” he stammered, looking between you and Azul.

Azul just smiled, that infuriatingly calm smile of his. “Yes,” he said, his tone light and polite but dripping with a silent victory. “I do hope you understand, Your Highness. After all, it wouldn’t do to leave such a radiant lady waiting, would it?”

You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing. Azul's ability to swoop in at just the right moment with perfect timing was nothing short of impeccable.

The prince was visibly flustered, caught completely off-guard by the public rejection. The heroine, still watching from across the room, looked like she was about to combust on the spot. Her fists were clenched at her sides, and you could practically feel the heat of her glare boring holes into you.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” you said, dipping into a mocking little curtsy. “But I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.”

And with that, you took Azul’s arm and let him lead you away from the prince, who stood frozen in humiliation as the ballroom buzzed with whispers around him.

As soon as you were out of earshot, Azul turned to you with an amused grin. “You seemed to be having fun back there.”

“Oh, I was,” you replied, chuckling. “But not as much fun as I’m about to have dancing with you.”

Azul raised an eyebrow, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as the two of you began to sway to the music. “Careful now,” he teased. “If you keep up that flirting, I might just start blushing.”

You grinned, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “I thought you were immune to such things. What happened to your infamous poker face?”

“Hmm, perhaps I underestimated your charms,” he mused, his voice lower now as he twirled you effortlessly around the dance floor. “You certainly know how to keep a man on his toes.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, smirking. “Is that so? Because I think you’re the one getting flustered, Azul.”

His smirk faltered for just a moment, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. You knew you had him.

But then, just when you thought you had the upper hand, Azul dipped you suddenly, causing a surprised squeak to escape your lips. He leaned over you, his face just inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“Flustered, hmm?” he murmured, his voice smooth as velvet. “I think you may have that backward, my dearest client.”

You blinked up at him, momentarily caught off-guard by the intensity in his eyes. Damn it—he was good at this.

“Well played,” you muttered, feeling your own cheeks heating up now.

Azul chuckled softly, pulling you back up into his arms as the music continued to swell around you. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “We can call this round a draw.”

You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head. “Fine. But don’t think this is over.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied with a wink.

You’re jolted awake by the sound of frantic knocking on your bedroom door, followed by your maids bursting in like the world was ending. “My Lady!” one of them squeals. “The mafia is breaking into the house!”

Now, any sane person would hear this and immediately take steps to flee, barricade themselves in, or at the very least, hide under the bed. But you? No. In your infinite wisdom, still half asleep and probably only functioning on half a brain cell, you bolt out of bed and head straight to the living room like you’re ready to take on a gang of mobsters in your nightgown. What was it that you always said about wanting more excitement in life?

You storm into the living room, ready to confront the so-called "mafia," only to be greeted by none other than Azul, Jade, and Floyd. Well, they weren’t exactly what you expected, but then again, the maids had screamed ‘mafia,’ and these three did dabble in... questionably legal activities.

Floyd's already poking through your vase of expensive flowers, looking completely at home, while Jade is smiling in that eerie way of his that makes it hard to tell if he’s genuinely amused or planning to harvest your organs.

“Good morning,” Azul greets you smoothly, like this is the most normal thing in the world. “Apologies for the intrusion, but we have urgent business to discuss.”

You stare at them for a long moment, your confusion building. “I didn’t make an appointment with you guys. Did you make an appointment with me?”

Jade’s eyes gleam with mischief. “No appointment, but we’ve come across some information we thought you’d be interested in.”

You cross your arms, already sensing the chaos about to unfold. “Go on…”

“Well,” Jade says, stepping forward with an innocent smile (which, of course, is anything but), “it seems the prince and his little heroine are planning to attend a charity event today to show off their ‘generosity.’”

Floyd pops up behind you, slinging an arm over your shoulder like you’re best friends. “Want to crash it?” he asks, grinning wildly, his sharp teeth flashing. “It’s bound to be fun. Who knows what kinda trouble we can stir up?”

Azul adjusts his glasses, looking thoughtful yet undeniably excited. “There could be some... interesting opportunities there,” he muses. “And I wouldn’t mind attending, purely for business reasons, of course.”

You blink at them. Charity event? Crashing? Making the prince and heroine’s lives miserable? Well, hell, why not? You did wake up to the mafia in your living room, after all. “Fine,” you say with a smirk, “let’s do it. Let’s crash this event and see how generous our dear prince really is.”

The four of you arrive at the event like a troupe of misfits dressed in their Sunday best. The venue is packed with people, all fawning over the prince and the heroine like they’re some divine beings sent down to bless the peasants. The heroine’s practically glowing as she bathes in their attention, her overly sweet voice echoing through the hall as she accepts praise for what is—let’s be real here—a laughably small donation, considering who they are.

You can’t help but roll your eyes. The prince and heroine are practically bathing in the affection of these poor, unsuspecting people. "Oh, how generous they are!" people cry. "Such saints, oh thank the heavens!"

Yeah, not today, airhead.

You nudge Azul. “Let’s show them how it’s really done.”

Azul, already ahead of you, strides confidently toward the stage. You follow, not missing a beat, and together, you announce—no, proclaim—that you will be tripling the total amount of donations for the event.

The reaction is immediate. Complete chaos erupts. The organizers start crying tears of joy, running up to you with such fervor that you have no choice but to stand there and accept their hugs and gratitude, despite your overwhelming desire to swat them away. Floyd, cackling like a hyena, is playfully lifting some of them off the ground in his bear-like hugs, while Jade just stands off to the side, watching the chaos unfold with a bemused smile, occasionally offering polite nods of acknowledgment.

The prince, who had been gloating only moments before, now looks like he’s been slapped in the face. His expression is priceless—shock, embarrassment, and barely concealed rage all battling for dominance. The heroine’s smile has dropped completely, replaced with a furious scowl as she watches the organizers fawn over you instead. Her fists are clenched at her sides, and you can see the very moment her fragile ego shatters. Oh, how delicious.

Amidst all the madness, you catch yourself actually smiling—not one of your usual smirks or devious grins, but a genuine, warm smile. As much as this was all meant to be a petty revenge plan, you can’t deny the satisfaction that comes from seeing these people so happy. It's almost... heartwarming.

Azul turns to you at that exact moment, his usually calm expression softening as he sees your smile. He blinks, clearly caught off-guard by how radiant you look. For a split second, he seems to lose his composure, his cheeks tinged with the faintest hint of pink.

“You’re smiling,” he says, his voice almost quiet. “It suits you.”

You glance up at him, raising an eyebrow. “What, you’ve never seen me smile before?”

“Not like that,” Azul admits, his usual poise faltering as he looks down at you with something akin to awe. “It’s... different.”

Before you can respond, Floyd suddenly slides up between you, throwing an arm around both you and Azul with a grin. “Oho! Azul’s gettin’ all blushy on us, huh?” he teases, eyes glinting mischievously. “Careful, Shrimpy. You might actually be softening him up.”

Azul huffs, pushing Floyd away with a barely contained scowl. “You’re insufferable, Floyd.”

“Oh, come on, boss!” Floyd laughs, ruffling Azul’s hair before darting away to avoid his retaliation. “Just admit it, you’re totally into ‘em!”

Jade sidles up next to you, his ever-present smile in place. “Well, it seems things are progressing quite nicely,” he says, his tone light but teasing. “Perhaps we’ll see more of this warmth from you, hm? It’s quite refreshing.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Oh, shut up, both of you,” you say, though there’s no real malice in your words.

As the crowd around you finally begins to disperse, you feel a strange sense of contentment. Sure, you came here for revenge, but now? Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

Azul’s first wish. He could’ve asked for anything—power, prestige, wealth beyond imagination. But no, he wants to open a café. A legit café. Sure, his shady business would still run in the background, but this time, he wanted something wholesome, something real. And of course, he wants you to sponsor it, not just with money but with your influence—Queen of the Social World that you are after your fabulous ball stunt.

You’re intrigued, mostly because it’s Azul, but also because, well, it was a bit funny imagining him in a cute apron, serving cakes and coffee like some innocent café owner. But business was business, and you were all in.

The following weeks were spent in an intense whirlwind of planning with Azul, Floyd, and Jade. What started as you simply agreeing to fund Azul’s café spiraled into you helping them design the entire place, from choosing the colors of the tiles to picking out the cups, to menu planning. You found yourself oddly invested, not because Azul asked for your help, but because, strangely enough, you liked spending time with them.

Like tonight, for example. You were supposed to be working on the café’s logo, but instead…

“Stay still, Floyd,” you muttered as you carefully painted his nails. Floyd, surprisingly, wasn’t squirming, but he was giving Jade some ridiculous side-eye. “If you mess this up, I swear, I’ll let Jade poison you with the mushrooms.”

Jade chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Poison? Now that’s an interesting accusation. I thought we were discussing the edible variety.”

“Oh, don’t play innocent, Jade. I’ve read up on your particular interests,” you quipped, finishing off one of Floyd’s fingers and moving on to the next. “And besides, everyone knows you’re a master of both the edible and the... not-so-edible.”

Floyd, meanwhile, grinned at you. “Shrimpy! You know, you're real funny, you know that? I should make you my personal nail artist. You’re doing way better than Jade ever did!”

Jade gave Floyd a look, crossing his arms in mock offense. “Please, Floyd. My skills are exceptional, but you insist on ruining the results every time.”

You giggled, shaking your head. “That’s because Floyd never sits still long enough for anything decent to happen. Isn’t that right?” You turned to Floyd, who was just nodding along like you’d given him the biggest compliment of the year.

Azul entered the room at that moment, looking slightly confused to find you painting Floyd’s nails. Without missing a beat, you reached out and tugged him over, all casual. “You’re next, Azul. Sit.”

He blinked at you, half surprised and half flustered by how natural this all felt. “I-I didn’t realize I’d signed up for this,” he stammered but still sat down beside you like he couldn’t refuse.

“You didn’t. But now you’re here, and you’ll be leaving with your nails looking fabulous,” you said with a grin. You took his hand, and despite how awkwardly he tried to keep his composure, you felt him relax under your touch.

“So, what were you discussing before I arrived?” Azul asked, glancing between you and Jade, who was still sitting nearby.

“Mushrooms,” Jade said with an oddly proud smile. “Our friend here is surprisingly knowledgeable about rare species. It’s rather refreshing to have such an... engaged conversation partner.”

“Well,” you said, dipping the nail brush back into the polish, “you’d be surprised what you can pick up after spending a considerable amount of time researching... various topics.”

“Of course,” Jade said, his smile just a little too knowing for your liking. But you didn’t take the bait, instead focusing on Azul’s hand, painting a particularly delicate pattern with precision.

As you finished Azul’s nails, Floyd suddenly launched himself at you, wrapping you in an unexpected squeeze. “Shrimpy! You’re my best friend now. Best. Friend.”

You barely had time to react as he practically crushed you, and you patted his back with a small laugh. “I’ll take that as a compliment... Floyd. Now, could you maybe let me breathe?”

Azul, who had been watching the exchange with a soft look on his face, finally stepped in. “Floyd, don’t suffocate our sponsor, please.”

Floyd reluctantly let you go but stayed attached to your side like a loyal puppy. “But Shrimpy’s so soft and fun!”

You rolled your eyes, playfully shoving Floyd away. “Okay, okay. Back off, or you’ll mess up your nails.”

Jade chuckled again, his gaze softening as he watched the three of you. “I must say, I never thought we’d be having... a sleepover, of sorts.”

You laughed. “Neither did I, to be honest. But I don’t mind. It’s kind of fun, isn’t it? Relaxing, being able to just... exist.”

Azul glanced down at his newly painted nails, feeling the warmth of the room and the camaraderie between you all. “Yes,” he murmured softly, “it is.”

And for a brief moment, Azul found himself wishing that nights like these could last forever.

The sun was already low on the horizon as you made your way toward Mostro Lounge, your daily visits now a routine you couldn’t seem to avoid. It had become a comforting ritual: meeting Azul, Jade, and Floyd, where the lines between business and friendship blurred into late-night planning sessions. You had just started to hum softly to yourself when a figure stepped into your path, blocking your way.

You stopped short, frowning as you recognized the sleazy, arrogant smirk plastered on the Crown Prince's face. He was the last person you wanted to deal with today. Or ever.

“There you are,” the prince drawled, taking a step closer to you, his hand reaching for your arm. “I’ve been thinking about you. Why don’t you stop all this nonsense and reconsider me as a suitor, hmm? You know I can offer you far more than Azul ever could.”

You stiffened as his hand wrapped around your wrist, his grip tighter than necessary, and you glared up at him. “Let go of me,” you said through gritted teeth.

The prince’s expression darkened, and he yanked you closer with a cruel tug. “Don’t act so high and mighty. You should be grateful I’m even giving you the time of day—”

A loud, unmistakable voice interrupted. “Oi, you slimy bastard!” Floyd’s voice boomed from behind you, and the next thing you knew, the prince’s hand was wrenched off your wrist as Floyd grinned down at him with an unsettling amount of excitement in his eyes. “You wanna keep those fingers or should I snap ‘em off for ya?”

The prince recoiled, his confidence wavering as Floyd stepped between the two of you, looking unhinged and ready to throw down at any moment. “Do you have any idea who I am—”

Floyd just laughed, cracking his knuckles with a loud pop. “You really think I care? Touch Shrimpy again, and I’ll show you why it’s a bad idea.”

Just as the prince looked like he was going to say something, Jade appeared at your side, his presence cold and menacing. His polite smile only made the threat more ominous. “Your Highness, I believe my brother gave you a fair warning. I suggest you heed it unless you wish to experience... unpleasant consequences.”

The prince looked between the two brothers, weighing his options. Though his pride was clearly hurt, the danger in their eyes finally seemed to register. He took a step back, sneering at you. “This isn’t over.”

“Oh, but it is,” Jade said, his smile never faltering. “If you value your position and your life.”

With that, the prince turned on his heel and left, and it wasn’t until his retreating figure disappeared that you realized you were shaking. The adrenaline coursing through your veins made your knees weak, and your breath came out shakier than you wanted it to.

“Shrimpy, you okay?” Floyd’s voice was softer now, lacking its usual teasing tone. He turned to you, his expression shifting from anger to concern.

Jade, too, watched you carefully. “You’re trembling. Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, biting your lip to stop the quiver. Without thinking, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around Floyd first, burying your face in his chest. He stiffened for a second, surprised, before his arms enveloped you gently, as if unsure of how much pressure to apply.

“‘S okay, Shrimpy,” Floyd mumbled into your hair. “I gotcha.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling Jade’s comforting hand rest on your shoulder. When you pulled away from Floyd, Jade was there too, his smile uncharacteristically soft. You hugged him as well, and for a moment, all the tension seemed to melt away as the Leech brothers stood there, silently offering their comfort.

By the time you made it to Mostro Lounge, Azul was already waiting, his expression brightening when he saw you approach—until he noticed your pale face and the tight look of concern on both Floyd and Jade’s features.

“What happened?” Azul asked immediately, his voice sharper than usual.

You hesitated for a second, glancing toward the twins. But before you could answer, Floyd spoke up. “The damn prince tried to pull some shit with Shrimpy.”

Azul’s entire demeanor darkened, the air around him thickening with icy fury. “Is that so?” His voice was calm, too calm, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “I see. Well, it seems our little game has taken a new turn.”

You blinked up at him, confused. “Azul?”

Azul turned to you, his stormy eyes locking with yours, and despite the anger simmering beneath his calm exterior, he smiled—a smile that sent chills down your spine, but also made you feel... protected. “From this point on, your revenge is my revenge. I won’t allow that fool to get away with this.”

You could only nod as the weight of his words settled over you. What had started as a personal vendetta was now much larger. Azul had made it personal, and with his intelligence and the Leech brothers by your side, you had no doubt the prince would soon regret the day he ever laid a hand on you.

Azul reached out and took your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll make sure he never forgets this lesson.”

And with that, you knew—there was no going back now. It wasn’t just about your revenge anymore. You had a powerful ally who was more than willing to turn the tables. And for the first time since you’d been thrown into this chaotic world, you felt truly... safe.

It all started with a completely innocent plan.

Well, innocent in the way that any plan involving Jade and Floyd Leech could be. You were sitting in Azul's office, sipping tea, when Floyd flopped onto the sofa like a bored toddler who’d been forced to sit through an economics lecture.

"Ugh, I’m bored,” he groaned, throwing an arm dramatically over his face. “Let’s go mess with someone. Like, now.”

Azul, across from you, pinched the bridge of his nose. “We have work to do, Floyd. You can’t just—"

“I wanna mess with someone," Floyd whined, cutting him off, “and you know who’s real fun to squish? That princessy little heroine.”

Your ears perked up. Oh no. No, no. This was bad.

But also tempting.

Azul gave you a side-eye like he already knew you were considering the chaos. “We’re not doing this,” he said firmly, like he was talking to two feral cats he had to babysit.

Jade, standing ever-so-politely by the door with his signature smile, chimed in. “I must say, brother, it does sound like a rather… entertaining idea.” His eyes glinted in that creepy way that made you unsure if he was plotting your doom or just mentally filing away a new tea recipe involving venomous plants.

“YESSS!” Floyd shot up from the couch, his mood doing a complete 180. “Let’s go squish her, let’s go squish—"

“No,” Azul snapped, sending you a warning look. “Don’t encourage this.”

You, of course, ignored the warning look entirely. “I mean… it's not the worst idea in the world.” You gave a dramatic sigh. “Someone has to put her in her place.”

Azul’s eye twitched. “We had a plan—”

“And now we have fun,” you interrupted, standing up and straightening your jacket like you were about to lead an army into battle. “Come on, Azul. When was the last time we had fun?”

Azul opened his mouth to retort, but Floyd was already bouncing around the room like a hyperactive puppy. “Ooooh, we’re gonna have fun, we’re gonna have fun!”

Jade, always the picture of composure, smiled serenely. “Shall I prepare the necessary… ingredients?”

Azul looked like he was about to pass out from sheer exasperation. “What ingredients?!”

But it was too late. The twins were already in full scheming mode, and you were all-in.

Twenty minutes later, you were sneaking—well, you were sneaking. Jade was strolling casually, and Floyd was giggling—through the palace gardens where the heroine had set up her usual tea party, surrounded by noble ladies with IQs lower than the calorie count of their diet biscuits.

The plan was simple: make her life miserable. The execution, however, was where it got beautifully wacky.

Floyd had brought a lot of frogs. (Don’t ask where he got them.)

The heroine was sitting, blissfully unaware, serving tea and playing the perfect little princess as usual. You felt your eye twitch just looking at her.

“Eww,” Floyd whispered beside you, wrinkling his nose. “She’s got that gross fake smile on again. Makes me wanna squish her even more.”

“Patience, Floyd,” Jade murmured, handing him a cup of “tea”—which was, in reality, some concoction Jade had brewed that you suspected involved swamp water. “We mustn't rush.”

Azul, standing beside you, was facepalming so hard you were surprised his glasses didn’t snap in two. “This is a disaster.”

You grinned. “No, this is a masterpiece.”

Just as the heroine raised her cup to sip her tea, Floyd, who was clearly too impatient to wait for subtlety, threw three frogs straight at the tea table.

SPLAT!

Chaos. Utter chaos. The noble ladies screamed, cups and saucers flew, and the heroine herself jumped back like the frogs were molten lava. Her chair tipped, and she fell—right into the flowerbed, splashing herself with tea and dirt.

Jade clapped politely, ever the gentleman. “Bravo, Floyd. That was an excellent throw.”

The heroine scrambled to her feet, gasping and red-faced, frantically brushing dirt and tea from her dress. “Wh-what—how dare—"

“Oh nooooo,” Floyd said, dramatically clasping his hands to his cheeks. “It looks like you fell! So clumsy! And right before your party too. That’s soooo embarrassing~!”

Azul turned to you with a look that screamed I told you this was a bad idea.

You, however, were practically glowing. “This is the best day of my life.”

“I-I’ll have you all arrested!” the heroine spluttered, her hair falling in disarray as she glared daggers at you and the Leech twins.

“Oh?” you said sweetly, leaning forward with an exaggerated pout. “For what? Frogs? You think we command amphibians, your grace? You’re so flattering.”

Azul cleared his throat, stepping in with his best diplomatic smile. “Now, now, let’s not escalate this. It was clearly an unfortunate mishap, and I’m sure you’ll be able to recover… in time.”

The heroine narrowed her eyes at him, her cheeks burning in humiliation. “You think this is funny, don’t you?!”

Floyd leaned over Azul’s shoulder, grinning like a shark. “I think it’s hilarious.”

Before she could retort, Jade suddenly stepped forward, his usual calm smile widening just a bit too much. “Perhaps it would be wise to retreat and freshen up, Miss. After all, one mustn’t linger in such… messy conditions.”

She opened her mouth, closed it again, and then—seeing the eyes of all the other noble ladies on her, their whispers starting to spread—she whirled around, storming off with a huff.

As soon as she was out of sight, you and Floyd doubled over, laughing like lunatics.

Azul, pinching the bridge of his nose again, shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m associated with any of you.”

“Oh, come on, Azul!” you managed to say through giggles, wiping a tear from your eye. “This was gold!”

“I still think we should’ve used the snakes,” Floyd added, totally serious.

Jade, always the perfectionist, just gave a little hum. “Next time, perhaps.”

Azul sighed deeply, already regretting every life choice that led him to this moment. “I need a vacation.”

You clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, Azul. Admit it. You had fun.”

He glanced at you, his lips twitching slightly as if he was fighting a smile. “…Perhaps.”

And with that, the four of you left the wreckage of the tea party behind, victorious and full of glee. The heroine would be recovering from this disaster for weeks.

Sometimes, revenge really was a dish best served with frogs.

The evening was quiet as you and Azul strolled through the town, the air filled with the subtle hum of night creatures, the scent of blooming flowers mixing with the cool night breeze. It was peaceful. Too peaceful, perhaps, as you noticed Azul shifting nervously beside you.

"Are you alright?" you asked with a raised eyebrow, watching as he straightened his posture a little too quickly. He was trying to play it cool, but you could tell that there was something bothering him.

"Of course," he replied with an air of forced calm. "Just enjoying the evening, that's all."

You nodded, though his tenseness made you smile internally. Here was Azul, calm and collected under all circumstances—except in moments like these, where even the tiniest of things could throw him off. It was charming, really.

And then, out of nowhere, a loud rustling erupted from the nearby bushes. Before you could react, Azul let out a strangled, startled yelp, practically leaping into your arms in an impressive feat of acrobatics you hadn’t quite expected. You blinked down at him, his arms clinging tightly to your shoulders as he cowered against you.

“W-what was that?!” he stammered, clearly shaken, his eyes darting around like a nervous prey animal.

You craned your neck to see what had caused the commotion, only to spot… a particularly fat raccoon waddling out of the bushes. The creature glanced at you lazily, munched on a discarded piece of bread, and then ambled away into the night.

“Azul,” you began slowly, “it’s just a raccoon.”

Azul, looking rather pale, cleared his throat and tried to regain his dignity, though he was still very much in your arms. "I-I see… It merely startled me, that’s all."

For a moment, you considered putting him down, but then you looked at him—his wide, flustered eyes, his pink-tinged cheeks—and decided, "Nope." With a little shift, you adjusted his weight in your arms and started walking again, as if carrying the mafia boss-turned-café-owner like a blushing bride was the most normal thing in the world.

Azul blinked. "What are you doing?"

"Carrying you," you said simply.

"But—"

"No ‘buts.’ Just relax," you said cheerfully, striding forward. Azul's face went from mildly shocked to utterly dumbfounded as you continued to carry him through the quiet town square like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Honestly, you’re pretty light,” you teased, trying to hold back a grin. “I should carry you more often.”

Azul cleared his throat, his face a deep crimson now, but you didn’t miss the way his arms stayed looped around your shoulders. His voice was a little quieter when he finally spoke again. “Well, if you insist…”

You chuckled, enjoying his rare moment of vulnerability. As much as he liked to keep his composed businessman mask, Azul clearly wasn’t immune to your charm. You could see it in the way he leaned a little closer, and for a moment, the teasing gave way to something softer, something a little more real.

When you finally set him down after several streets of wandering, Azul adjusted his glasses, his composure returning. But then he turned to you, an odd glint in his eye. “You know… I’ve been thinking. About a way to get back at the prince.”

Your eyebrow quirked up in curiosity. “Oh? Do tell.”

He folded his arms behind his back, looking as though he was trying to frame this in a way that didn’t reveal too much. “It’s quite simple, really. A business arrangement. A… fake engagement.”

You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate. He cleared his throat and continued. “If we pretend to be engaged, it would irritate the prince, perhaps even force him into a rash decision. It would also be good for my public image. And, of course, you would gain the satisfaction of seeing him completely humiliated.”

You stared at him for a moment, then smirked. “Azul… do you want to date me?”

He choked on absolutely nothing, sputtering, “W-what— I— that’s not what I said—”

You rolled your eyes, amused by how he was floundering. “It’s fine, Azul. I get it. You want to date me. You don’t have to frame it like a business deal.”

Azul blinked rapidly, caught between mortification and something else—something that looked like hope. “Well, that’s… I mean…”

“And if you really want to make it official,” you continued with a grin, “why don’t we just make the engagement real?”

Azul’s flustered expression softened into something utterly pleased. For a moment, he stood there, barely containing the wide smile that threatened to break free. “You… You’d really consider that?”

“I think it would be fun,” you said with a wink. “Plus, it’ll definitely piss off the prince.”

Azul finally allowed himself to smile—a genuine, relieved smile that made your heart skip a beat. “In that case… I would be honored.”

The next morning, you decided to really turn things up a notch. You knew the prince and the heroine were planning to spend their day parading around the town square, fishing for compliments and praise. So, naturally, you decided to plan your very public proposal right in the middle of their little event.

You stood with Azul in the town square, both of you perfectly dressed for the occasion. The crowd gathered, waiting for the prince’s grand appearance, but before he could make his big entrance, you stole the spotlight. Grabbing Azul’s hand, you dragged him to the center of the square, and with a dramatic flourish, you dropped to one knee.

“Azul Ashengrotto,” you began, projecting your voice loud enough for the entire square to hear, “will you do me the honor of becoming my fiancé?”

The crowd gasped, murmurs rippling through the commoners. The prince, who had just appeared with the heroine on his arm, looked absolutely dumbfounded, while the heroine herself looked like she’d swallowed a lemon.

Azul, ever the dramatic actor, placed a hand over his heart as if he was deeply moved. “Of course!” he said, tears welling up in his eyes. “It would be my greatest honor.”

The crowd erupted into applause as you slipped a ring onto his finger, and Azul pretended to wipe away a tear, leaning in to whisper, “You know, I didn’t think you’d go this far.”

You grinned up at him, whispering back, “Well, you’re the one who wanted to fake it. Might as well make it memorable.”

Azul let out a small laugh, then looked at you with something softer in his eyes. “I have to admit… this isn’t so bad.”

And for the first time since this whole revenge plot began, you found yourself feeling… happy. Not just because you’d embarrassed the prince and heroine, though that certainly was satisfying. But because standing here, with Azul by your side, it felt like maybe, just maybe, this arrangement could be more than just a scheme.

Azul sniffled dramatically, playing up the moment for all it was worth, but you saw the genuine affection in his eyes. And as the crowd continued to cheer and applaud, you couldn’t help but smile, truly and honestly happy for once—happy just to exist here with Azul, your hand firmly in his.

Tea parties were the bane of your existence. Seriously, you’d rather file taxes for a hundred years or listen to the prince’s self-praising monologues on loop than sit at one more dainty little table surrounded by frills and forced giggles. But, here you were, once again trapped in the depths of social hell, smiling so hard your face muscles were cramping.

“Isn’t this just delightful?” one of the duchesses chirped, her laugh tinkling like a bell forged from your nightmares. You could practically hear your soul dying.

You plastered on a fake smile. “Absolutely. A dream come true.”

Across the table, the heroine herself—Miss Sunshine and Butterflies—fluttered around like she was hosting the fanciest gala of the year. You bit back a groan as she served tea to everyone, her stupidly sweet smile never faltering. But there was a gleam in her eye, something almost off about the way she was handing out those cups.

You squinted. Was it just you, or did her eyes always look like that? Beady little things, like a snake pretending to be a fluffy bunny. Ugh, maybe it was just her entire vibe that set you off. You wouldn’t be surprised if she threw in a few spiteful herbs just to ruin your day further.

“Here you go!” she chirped, placing a cup of Rosehip in front of you. Her eyes gleamed again.

Okay, weird.

Before you could think too hard about it, Azul’s hand slid across the table. With a smooth, practiced movement, he swapped your cup with his, like this was a perfectly normal thing to do.

You blinked at him, raising a brow. “What? Did you want rosehip that badly?”

Azul smiled, giving you a soft shrug. “I’ve always been partial to it.”

That was… well, typical Azul. You shrugged it off. Maybe he just wanted to get a taste of a different blend, and it wasn’t like you were going to argue over tea.

And then he took a sip.

And immediately coughed up blood.

"Azul?!" you shrieked, eyes widening as he doubled over, clutching his throat. The teacup slipped from his hand and shattered against the table. Panic shot through your chest like a dagger.

"Oh my god, Azul!" you were up and out of your chair faster than you’d ever moved in your life, diving next to him on the floor as his coughing turned wet and ragged. Blood splattered onto the pristine tablecloth, and all you could hear was your heartbeat thundering in your ears. “No, no, no, NO, this is NOT happening!”

Azul’s face was turning ashen, his breathing shallow, and you were completely losing it.

“What the hell was in that tea?!” You turned, glaring murderously at the heroine, who just stood there, wide-eyed and shocked. Your hands trembled as you pulled Azul closer, cradling his head against your lap like he was going to die any second.

“Stay with me, dammit! Don’t you DARE leave me like this!” you sobbed, tears streaming down your face. “We haven’t even finished the damn revenge plot, you idiot! I-I didn’t even get to tell you I like you!”

Healers finally came rushing in, but by then you were an absolute mess—full-on ugly crying, gripping Azul’s shirt so hard your knuckles turned white. You were inconsolable, practically wailing like the world was ending because, to you, it really felt like it was.

“P-please, I’ll do anything! Just don’t die, okay?! You can have my soul, my fortune, my entire wardrobe, I don’t care! I’ll even stop plotting revenge, just don’t—don’t—” you hiccupped through sobs, nearly incoherent at this point.

Somehow, through your hysterical bargaining with the universe, the healers managed to stabilize Azul. His breathing evened out, the blood stopped flowing, and you could hear them saying something about the poison wearing off. But all you could do was sit there, holding him as the storm of emotions tore through you like a hurricane.

It felt like an eternity before he was finally awake and stable, sitting up in bed after what felt like the longest, most agonizing night of your life. And when you saw him there, looking far too smug for someone who had just almost died, you snapped.

“What the hell was that?!” You stormed into the room, furious tears still clinging to your lashes. “What in the name of all that’s holy possessed you to drink that?!”

Azul blinked at you, clearly not expecting the outburst. “I didn’t want you to get hurt—”

“I DON’T CARE!” you shrieked, pacing around like a madwoman. “You almost died! Do you have any idea what that did to me?!”

Azul opened his mouth to reply, but you cut him off, throwing your hands up. “The deal’s off, Azul! I’m done! No more revenge, no more schemes, I don’t want to be a part of this if you’re gonna be coughing up blood and nearly dying on me!”

You were about two seconds away from spiraling into another sobfest when suddenly, Azul grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward him. Before you could even protest, his lips crashed onto yours, shutting you up immediately.

You blue screened.

For a solid five seconds, all you could think was: Oh, he’s kissing me. And then, Wait, he's kissing me!

He pulled back, looking exasperated and amused all at once. “Will you calm down?” he said, his voice soft but firm. “I’m not going anywhere. I want to see this through. For you.”

You blinked, completely thrown off. “But… why?”

“Because,” he smirked, “you’re not the only one with a vendetta. And, well,” his eyes softened a little, “because I care about you.”

Your heart stuttered, and you stared at him, still not quite over the kiss. “You what?”

Azul chuckled, clearly enjoying the rare sight of you being completely speechless. “Sounds like you care about me too,” he teased. “Or did I hallucinate you confessing your undying love while I was poisoned?”

Your face flushed red, and you crossed your arms defensively. “I wasn’t confessing my undying love, I was panicking, okay? But, yeah. Fine. I like you. I was gonna tell you sooner, but then you had to go and die on me.”

Azul raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t die.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled. “You almost did.”

He laughed, and you swore your heart did a little flip. “Well, now that we’ve cleared that up…” he leaned closer again, his eyes glinting with mischief. “What do you say we continue this revenge plot? With less near-death experiences, of course.”

You eyed him warily. “Only if you promise to never pull that shit again.”

Azul chuckled and gave you a playful, solemn look. “I promise.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was still pounding as you leaned in, pulling him into another kiss. And this time, there was no poison, no tears, no panic—just the two of you, finally on the same page for once.

And maybe, just maybe, you could pull off this revenge scheme and come out of it with something even better.

It was a party meant for the elite of the kingdom—everyone who considered themselves someone was present. Glistening chandeliers, extravagant gowns, and enough fake smiles to power an entire city. But all you could focus on was the prince—who was pretending not to undress you with his eyes from across the ballroom—and the heroine, fluttering about with her fake miracles and equally fake modesty.

You stood by Azul, nursing a glass of wine and feeling like your patience was thinner than ever. But tonight was the night. The two of you had been planning this for weeks. Everything was in place, and the heroine and the prince were about to get the public humiliation they so richly deserved. The prince, with his wandering hands and slimy charm, had made it no secret he was obsessed with you, the villainess. And the heroine? A conniving fraud with no real powers, just cheap tricks and affairs with every married noble she could get her hands on. They were perfect for each other.

Azul adjusted his glasses, his smirk subtle but telling. “Are you ready?”

You glanced at him, a wicked grin spreading across your face. “Born ready.”

The two of you exchanged a nod, and as Azul sauntered toward the prince’s little circle of sycophants, you made your way toward the heroine, who was doing her best impression of a saintly flower surrounded by admirers. The second you reached her, she turned to you with that fake smile, the kind that said I wish I could set you on fire, but I’ll settle for pretending to like you.

“Ah, it’s so good to see you,” she cooed, her eyes scanning you for a flaw to latch onto.

You gave her a saccharine smile, voice dripping with false sweetness. “Likewise. I couldn’t help but overhear your little chat about your latest miracle—what was it this time? Turning water into wine?”

She blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Oh, nothing so grand. Just helping a few people in need, as always.”

“Helping?” you raised an eyebrow. “That’s funny, because I seem to recall several of those ‘people in need’ being married men. Some of them not exactly in need of healing, but more… in need of a different kind of attention.”

Gasps erupted around you. The heroine’s face turned a rather satisfying shade of white.

“I don’t know what you’re implying,” she stammered, her composure cracking.

“Oh, I’m not implying anything,” you said, voice turning sharp as a blade. “I’m flat-out saying it. You’ve been using your so-called ‘holy powers’ as a cover while having affairs with multiple married men. That’s not even the worst of it, though, is it? Let’s talk about your miracles—or should I say, your alchemy tricks.”

More gasps. Nobles all around were now staring, whispers spreading like wildfire. And as for the heroine? She looked like she was about to faint.

“You—you’re lying!” she screeched, eyes wide with desperation.

“Oh, am I?” You pulled out a letter, one of many you and Azul had collected. “Because this says otherwise. A love letter to Lord Ainsworth, a very married man, detailing your... special ‘healing sessions.’” You fluttered the letter in front of her face, then loudly cleared your throat, reading aloud, “Your touch is divine, and I felt so... blessed after our long night together. Honestly, your vocabulary could use some work. Not exactly poetic, is it?”

The heroine was trembling now, and the crowd around you was in stunned silence. But you weren’t done. Oh no. You turned to where Azul was confronting the prince. Perfect timing.

Azul was speaking smoothly, voice calm but lethal. “And speaking of deception, Your Highness, should we address your... exemplary battlefield skills? I’ve heard rumors that when the kingdom needed you most, you deserted the warfront. Ran off with a servant girl while your men perished. Am I wrong?”

The prince, who had been sneering at you from afar, suddenly looked as though he’d been slapped. “That’s preposterous!”

“Oh?” Azul’s smirk deepened. “So, you didn’t flee like a coward and abandon your post? Perhaps we should ask your former comrades. Oh wait, we can’t—they’re dead.”

Gasps turned into outright murmurs now, the room swirling with scandal. The prince, visibly sweating, attempted to regain control. “I don’t have to listen to this nonsense! Guards! Arrest these—”

You cut him off with a laugh, stepping forward. “Oh, and before you get all high and mighty, let’s not forget your little... habit of harassing women at court. Everyone’s heard about it, but no one’s had the guts to say it out loud. You have no idea how many complaints have been buried by your influence.”

The prince’s face turned purple. He looked like a fish flopping on dry land, desperate to escape. The nobles around him, previously loyal lapdogs, were now backing away, muttering to each other in disbelief.

The heroine finally broke, shrieking like a banshee. “You can’t do this to us! You’ll regret this!”

You turned to her with a smile that could only be described as gleeful. “I already do, dear. Trust me, being in the same room with you is enough regret for a lifetime.”

And with that, Azul snapped his fingers, signaling the beginning of your grand exit.

In the chaos that followed—nobles yelling, the prince and the heroine in absolute shambles—Floyd, with a cackle, grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder like a sack of flour. “Time to go, Shrimpy!”

“What is it with you and throwing me over your shoulder?!” you hollered, flailing. But you were laughing, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Meanwhile, Jade was quick to hoist Azul over his shoulder, ignoring Azul’s indignant protests. “I am fully capable of walking, Jade!”

Jade chuckled. “But this is faster.”

With that, the four of you barreled out of the ballroom, tearing through the palace halls like children who’d just pulled the most epic prank of their lives. You could hear the sounds of guards scrambling, but none of them seemed to have the nerve to chase after you. After all, exposing the kingdom’s so-called saviors was no small feat.

“Where are we even going?!” you laughed, gripping onto Floyd’s jacket as he sprinted full speed, not slowing down for a second.

“Anywhere that isn’t here, duh!” Floyd cackled, clearly having the time of his life.

After a few more turns, you finally found a secluded garden, well away from the palace guards, and Floyd unceremoniously dropped you onto the ground. Jade did the same to Azul, though with a bit more care.

You took a moment to catch your breath, still riding high from the adrenaline of it all. Azul straightened his coat, still clearly annoyed by the shoulder-ride but too composed to say much about it.

“Well, that was fun,” you said, leaning back against the garden wall. “So, what now? Are we fugitives yet?”

Azul, now looking much more composed, adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat. “There’s still the matter of my wish. You promised me one, remember?”

You blinked. “Oh, right. What do you want?”

Azul hesitated, then fixed you with a look that was surprisingly serious. “Come with me to the Coral Sea.”

You stared at him. “What, like... right now?”

Azul’s eyes flickered with something like doubt. “You don’t have to—”

“Oh, no, I’m in,” you interrupted, grinning. “Let’s go right now before we get arrested or something.”

Azul blinked, clearly not expecting you to agree so readily. “You… you’re serious?”

You shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be? This place is a nightmare. You know what sounds fun? Underwater adventures. Coral Sea? Sign me up. Let’s get out of here before they send a search party.”

Floyd laughed loudly, throwing an arm around you. “I like this plan! Let’s see how Shrimpy handles the ocean!”

Jade chuckled, his smile as sharp as ever. “It seems we have an impromptu vacation ahead of us.”

Azul, still looking somewhat stunned, finally smiled—though it was a soft, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat. “Very well. Let’s go, then. The Coral Sea awaits.”

The Coral Sea was nothing like you expected, but everything you needed. You’d relocated your café to this underwater haven, a place filled with bioluminescent reefs, shimmering schools of fish, and an air of quiet magic. Running a café under the sea was a wild dream, but somehow, you and Azul had made it happen. Every day felt like an adventure, with Floyd and Jade always testing your patience—and taste buds—with their questionable yet inventive cooking.

Today was no different.

You stood at the counter of your café, watching with a mix of amusement and mild horror as Floyd dumped a strange, glowing ingredient into a bubbling pot. Jade stood next to him, calmly adding delicate pinches of spices that, according to him, would “bring out the flavor.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So, what exactly are you making today? Because last time, I’m pretty sure I saw sparks coming out of the dish.”

“Don’t worry, Shrimpy!” Floyd chirped, giving the pot an enthusiastic stir. “This one won’t explode! Probably.”

Jade smirked, clearly enjoying your wariness. “It’s a new dish we’ve been perfecting—Sea Serpent Stew. I think you’ll find it... quite unique.”

You blinked. “Sea Serpent… what now?”

Floyd cackled. “Relax, it’s just a name! No actual sea serpents in it. Mostly.”

With a resigned sigh, you accepted the bowl they handed you and stared down at the glowing, swirling contents. It looked like something out of a mad alchemist’s lab. But hey, you’d survived worse—like being kidnapped by Floyd. This was nothing.

Bracing yourself, you took a cautious sip.

It wasn’t… terrible. Actually, it was kind of delicious. Spicy, with an oddly sweet aftertaste that lingered in a pleasant way. You blinked in surprise, then took another spoonful.

“Well, damn,” you said, looking at the two eels with newfound respect. “This is actually good. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think we could add this to the menu.”

Floyd pumped a fist into the air. “Yesss! Told ya we nailed it!”

Jade chuckled, looking pleased but less outwardly excited. “I’m glad it meets your standards.”

You grinned at them both. “I mean, if people don’t mind glowing food, we’re set. Let’s call it ‘Mystic Stew’ or something. I’ll work on the branding.”

After a few more rounds of tasting, tweaking, and banter, the day finally wound down. The café’s lanterns dimmed, casting the place in a soft, cozy glow, and you could hear the gentle hum of the ocean outside. Floyd and Jade headed out to “hunt for more ingredients”—which you suspected was code for causing chaos somewhere else—leaving you alone to close up with Azul.

You locked the doors, the quiet settling in as Azul finished counting the day’s earnings. He glanced at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Another successful day.”

“Yup. Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think we’re actually doing well here,” you mused, walking over to him. The quiet moments like this were becoming your favorite—just the two of you, after the bustle of the day, with nothing but the serene ocean around you.

Azul chuckled, slipping his arms around your waist as you leaned into him. “You doubted our business?”

“Never doubted the business,” you teased. “But the Coral Sea? Yeah, I wasn’t sure about moving here. But now... I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his touch warm and familiar. “I’m glad. This place... it’s different from anything I could have imagined, but with you here, it feels like home.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn’t help but smile. “I never thought a stupid order for a magic rock would lead to this, but here we are. You and me, running a café under the sea. Who knew?”

Azul chuckled, pulling you closer. “That magic rock was the start of everything, wasn’t it? ”

You looked up at him, feeling your chest tighten with affection. “Yeah, funny how life works. I thought I was signing up for a revenge plot, and instead, I got... well, you.”

Azul’s gaze softened, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The weight of everything—the journey, the chaos, the unplanned twists—hung in the air between you, warm and comforting.

“I love you, you know that?” you said, the words slipping out with ease now, no hesitation.

Azul smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “And I love you. More than I thought possible.”

You tilted your head, a mischievous grin tugging at your lips. “Good, because you’re stuck with me now. No refunds, no returns.”

He laughed, a rare, genuine sound that made your heart swell. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

With that, you pulled him into a kiss, soft and lingering, with the ocean as your only witness. This—right here—was everything. The café, the Coral Sea, and Azul by your side. It might have started with a plot for petty revenge, but it had turned into something much deeper, much more real.

And as you stood there in his arms, the world felt right. You had found your place. Together.

Series Masterlist ; Masterlist

Okay! Kalim and Leona are next! (Whichever I finish editing first) Who would y'all like to see after that?

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x you #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul #azul ashengrotto #twst azul #azul x you #twst azul x reader #trash novel chronicles #fem reader

1K notes · View notes

valentine-cafe · 4 months ago

Note

Oh to be a male reader who seems like nothing gets to him, charming and playful, only for your character to find him in a room all teary, and when pressed he just mumbles about the false rumour he thought was true, quiet and defeated and not meeting their eyes,

"are you really going to date <name of person>...?"

(order of: Tiramisu, mango pancakes, revani, key lime pie, rhubarb and strawberry crumble. I understand they're more than the average request so please don't feel pressured to answer❣️)

˖⁺. “ rumour has it ” :

﹙ multi m. characters x male reader ﹚.𖹭 ݁

. . . various men x male reader !! 🍓 : ﹙ antihero ˖ immortal ˖ mercenary ˖ god ˖ grim reaper characters ﹚

what happens when the confident, cocky man they know and love ends up in tears over a fake rumour about them?

﹙ cws ﹚: none! | wc : 1.2k

﹙ receipts ﹚: this is soooo sweet we need more content for m readers like thiiiss :((

꒰ other treats : guidelines ˖ m.list ˖ characters ˖ our lore ꒱

﹙alessio 781. ﹚. . . !! 🍓 : a look of confusion would flash before his eyes. had he ever seen you cry? the sight of your tears and the ache of his heart that came with it answered the question.

his mind scrambles for answers. where did the rumour come from? why were you upset over it?

for once his mind decided to click for him. he could practically feel the small lightbulb go off above his head. without a second to waste he advances forward to stand in front of your teary self. hands stuffed into his pockets and his hair catching in the wind of his lean. his tall form casts a shadow over the wooden desk that you sit at.

“now why’d I be on a date with ‘em when we’re going out for milkshake huh?”

your eyes spring wide and the tears halt together. your shaky voice brings a twitch to his brow and he has to restrain himself from pulling you into his arms altogether.

“wh-what - since when -”

“since now. come on pretty boy.”

he’s yanking you up in seconds with that big grin on and affectionate eyes. a large hand cupping your face to stroke a thumb along your cheekbone.

꒰ mercenary ˖ immortal ˖ antihero ˖ punkgoth character ꒱

﹙rasui 9948e. ﹚. . . !! 🍒 : it only took one glance from him at you and then out to the hallway of his syndicate. the false flames licking away at the walls as per usual.

what strange rumors. such pathetic way to put someone’s confidence down. and the someone is you, of all people— why would someone do that?

“don’t just stand and look at me like that.” the mumble hits his ear, and immediately a brow raises slowly, creating that little forehead wrinkle that makes his face look ever the more handsome. damn this fire elemental.

“well if you insist.” he chuckles softly.

his hand sweeps across the open door to close it. before the soft, singing sound of his footsteps would pass towards you. head tilted in concerned confusion.

“i’ve never spoken to them about such.” he scoffs, long, brown hair standing blue with flame by the edges.

the small glance at his hair you catch out the corner of your eye indicates well enough his concern for you. tinges of sadness.

“rasui. . .”

“shhh.”

slowly, his hand finds the bottom of your chin, and slowly lifts your head to tilt it. make the saddened eyes of yours meet his fiery gaze, that hold such passion for you. had they always had that? you’d never noticed. . .

“i’d rather not waste my time with the likes of such.” he croons into your ear honestly, pressing a little smooch to your temple gently.

“you have, always, my undivided attention, habibi”

꒰ mercenary leader ˖ fire elemental character ꒱

﹙haitao 9948e. ﹚. . . !! 🍓 : “oh don’t be so solemn dear.” he huffs softly, entering the room properly and drawing the door shut.

“there are no corpses to be mourned in the morgue today, after all. not yet, at least.” ah, humor continues as life goes on.

it is one of the things you find yourself so very fond of with him for. his morbid character oddly endearing in times of dull light.

“I am. . . failing to understand?”

in such confusion would your eyes meet his, as you heard the snort that emerged from his nose. the slightest of eerie laughter creeping out past his lips.

“don’t you wanna be with them instead?”

“no.” he’d answer blunty, smiling widely at you. shrugging casually before grinning at you in the usual, morbid fashion of his.

“i’d rather manage their funeral than do that.”

the bark of laughter that left him as he walked over to you sat your heart aflame, it was warm, a bit of a cacophany as usual but you loved it nontheless.

with a small wink from him, he gently takes your hands in his cold ones.

“you though, gods, you’re worth dancing around with until death.”

꒰ grim reaper ˖ mortician character ꒱

﹙alessio 164. ﹚. . . !! 🍒 : “what? where in the abhorration did you get that idea?”

it is only when the words leave his lips does alessio halt at the sight of your tears. realisation sets in with a sting and for the first time in awhile. . . he feels a hint of regret.

the sorcerer takes a seat beside you. his expression remains ever the same but the change comes with his warm palm on your knee. a small silence settles over the both of you before he pipes up in a quieter voice.

“you should not believe everything you hear, my dear. . .”

one of his knuckles raises to brush away your tears. there is a small tilt of his head with a tender smile to his dark lips.

“why are you so upset?”

you sniffle. the feel of your gut twisting stiffles your words. however with your overwhelm, the hand on your knee and the soft voice from the typically frightful, blunt man. . . they ease out like melted wax. “I. . . because it should. . .”

“should be you?”

you love the way he cups at your face with both hands and steers your eyes to him. love the way his smile assures the throbbing heart of yours. his words are what put it to rest entirely.

“such a bright star you are. . . why would you think my eyes are on any other?”

꒰ sorcerer ˖ corrupt god character ꒱

﹙talisen 164. ﹚. . . !! 🍓 : with such blunt words, delicately and full of softspoken wonder. it drips off of his tongue like wine: “whyever would one put an ear to such bereft opinion?”

of course, your reaction would be to look away in unbridled humiliation. although, it was clear he did not intend to have you feel such way.

“i just. . .” you try, taking in a deep breath, before looking down at your hands. frowning, at the inability to speak.

a long hand finds your shoulder, as the god’s much larger and taller body slumps down next to you in the couch.

“no.” he speaks, and brings your chin into an upwards tilt with one hand. the other drawing you closer to give you a small squeeze on the back.

“no?” you murmur back with a scoff. “what is that supposed to mean?”

“what i have attempted to tell you for long enough. is what it means.” he groans out, the sound almost wilting and blooming the flowers altogether.

“little interest do i find in such fickle creature as the one that claims i am theirs.” he begins. free hand moving to your heart to trace at the area. as he leans close enough for you to see each and every copper speck on his face that shape small crystalline patterns.

“a heart of mine lays beating within your hands, my beloved. it is time you see that.”

꒰ snake god ˖ corrupt god character ꒱

﹙ taglist. ﹚: | get tagged for specific posts

﹙ tip jar. ﹚: like our work? consider suporting us 𖹭

96 notes · View notes

fir-fireweed · 2 months ago

Text

Intro Post for my new WIP, “Cantata.” If you haven’t yet read my completed IF, “Viatica,” you can find it here on itch.

Ko-Fi Link Here

A low fantasy IF loosely based on the Italian Renaissance period, with a steampunk edge.

DEMO on Itch

SYNOPSIS

The story is set in Saleste, an empire with a long history of expansionism and colonization. It is a vast, wealthy empire, very much set in notions of classism and noble privilege. And its warmongering has only grown more brazen under the current regis (monarch). Saleste is currently at a stalemate with Tinebaille, a neighboring island nation the empire has repeatedly tried, and failed, to conquer.

Within the empire, technically citizens but not, are the Iredicci. The Iredicci are as much a religion as they are a race—less like priests and more like monks or shamans. The Iredicci can hear and feel the cordis, the harmonic pulse that connects all living things, and they connect to it through song. Iredicci have excellent hearing, but their defining feature is their voice—they have an echo to their voice, a resonance of two pitches at once. The regis asked the Iredicci elders to use their unique gift to help him conquer Tinebaille, but as a peaceful people, they refused.

A simple, nomadic people, the Iredicci were traditionally welcome in all corners of the Saleste Empire. But as steam technology progressed and the push for new resources grew, a prejudice developed against them. The regis spread propaganda against the Iredicci, painting them as an inferior, uncivilized people who leeched off the empire rather than aided it. Over the years they stopped being welcome. Eventually, their travel was restricted, and the Iredicci were forced to live in settlement camps.

You are one of the Iredicci, born into such a camp. The elders sing songs of past travels and wonders you have never seen. Ever the optimists, the elders tell you to take heart. To be thankful you are among friends and family. That things can’t possibly get any worse.

Until they do.

Historians and politicians would call it The Proelium, a righteous battle against the traitorous Iredicci. What it really was, was the systematic genocide of your people. In one night, soldiers attacked every settlement camp across the empire. No one was spared—not the elders, not the children, not your mother.

It was mere whim that you snuck out of camp that evening, a mischievous escapade with a friend that ironically saved your life. You are taken in by your friend’s family and kept safe. But with survivors being hunted and killed, you must conceal your identity. So, you pretend to be deaf and mute.

Journey through the empire of Saleste and beyond. Grow from a child into an adult. Make friends, lovers, allies, and enemies. How will they react when your secret comes to light? Will you abandon your song in favor of machine? Join the rebel forces against the tyrant regis? Will you heal the wounds of the realm and restore balance? Or plunge it further into chaos?

MAGIC

There is no magic in the traditional sense, but your people are attuned to the cordis, the harmonies of the earth. Your song brings rain to drought ridden areas, quiets thunderstorms, tames wildfires, and soothes hearts. You can also attune to a specific element, which corresponds to one of the senses:

Earth/Smell

Air/Sight

Fire/Touch

Water/Taste

FEATURES

Play as male, female or nonbinary—you’ll be able to choose your pronouns independent of your body type.

Customize your character’s appearance and personality.

Choose your attunement/proficiency with the cordis. This choice will heavily influence gameplay, affecting combat, weapon specialization, character interactions, and problem-solving situations. Choose wisely!

Create 2 character names: your birth name and an alias. The Iredicci have culturally unique names, so your birth name will be limited to a preset selection. But you will go by an alias of your own choosing for most of the story.

Develop your relationship with your adopted sister. Are you friends or rivals?

Romance! Or not. Romance 1 of 4 possible love interests, or choose the platonic route with the best of friends.

Save a wild animal from a hunter’s trap and gain a steadfast companion. Because fur baby.

THE MC

The game begins with you at age 7. When you are 12, your camp is slaughtered during The Proelium. With your voice and heightened hearing identifying you as Iredicci, you pretend to be deaf and mute in order to hide your heritage. The main game occurs 13 years after The Proelium, when you are 25.

ROMANCE OPTIONS

Calliope Cato (she/her)

The inventor/artificer, Calliope can build and fix any machine. She is 2 years younger than you, petite, with gold eyes, rich brown skin and black hair in multiple braids. Her hair and clothes are adorned in rings, belts, and pins which double as tools. She carries a man’s cane sword with her everywhere, which she wields in a fight along with a hand crossbow. She’s curious, optimistic, excitable, and easily distracted by her many projects, but much of that is to keep her mind occupied. In quiet moments when she thinks no one is looking, you glimpse a profound sadness on her features.

Corinne Xenakis (she/her)

The leader of the rebels, Corinne works to overthrow the monarchy and aid the surviving Iredicci where possible. She is 6 years older than you. She is tall, with long, sandy brown hair usually worn in a messy bun or loosely braided bun, hazel eyes, and beige skin tanned by the sun. Quiet, serious and aloof, she feels a tremendous responsibility for those under her command. Corinne is a contradiction—she has the grace and manners of a noblewoman, yet fights with military precision that is uncommon for females of noble lineage. She is deadly when double wielding her flintlocks or axes. While not cold, she is not overly familiar or friendly with anyone, and very tight-lipped about her past. What does she guard so fiercely behind her armor?

Vicente Aloi (he/they)

The bastard prince, Vicente is calculating, ruthless and driven. They are the same age as you, and they, too, lost their mother the night of The Proelium, though under different circumstances. But while you were adopted into a loving family, he is the unwanted son of the regis, trained to be a lethal tool. He has long, midnight blue-black hair, icy blue eyes, and high defined cheekbones. The edges of a tattoo are barely visible on his neck above the collar of his doublet… wings, perhaps? It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful, though you’d never tell him for fear he’d take his rapier to your neck simply for looking. Will your plans align with his, or are you merely another pawn in his schemes?

Bayram Durmaz (he/him)

The son of the Aydem, the matriarchal leader of Tinebaille. Bayram is 4 years older than you. He has golden-honey skin, light brown eyes, and dark brown, tightly-curled hair that he usually wears back in a ponytail or half ponytail. He is tall and broad, muscular but not toned, with a rounded edge to his stomach and chest. A sprawling, colorful tattoo, the mosaic artwork of his people, covers the entirety of his back. He is boisterous, bold, and a shameless flirt. With his young sister bearing the weight of succession, he’s been free to explore the islands to his heart’s content, and is familiar with every bay, inlet, and harbor. He is equally skilled at wielding a spear, sailing a ship, and charming hearts.

PINTEREST click here

#cantata #interactive fiction #writing #twine if #if wip #new wip #if #romance #low fantasy

911 notes · View notes

paradlselost · 3 months ago

Text

. ⋮ ULTRAVIOLENCE .ᐟ ֹ

doctor phosphorus x female reader

⎨ 𝐀𝐍 ⎬ fun fact i’ve wanted to eat uranium for a long time so he is the worlds most perfect man to me . also sorry for not writing anything in so long , i’ve been busy and jumping from hyperfixation to hyperfixation for a while now as you can see by my unfinished mouthwashing fanfics . but i watched the show last night and he is my favorite and there’s almost nothing about him so i had to . enjoy !

⎨ 𝐂𝐖 ⎬ monster ! reader , mentions of body dysmorphia and imposter syndrome / depersonalization , religious trauma + blasphemy ( cause i can’t help myself ) specifically in catholicism , catholic rituals , depictions of eating raw meat , depictions of wounds , hurt / comfort , depictions of cannibalism , described body horror . smut : fire / burning kink , dry humping , fingering , male moans ( yay ! ) .

3 . 1 k words ++ not beta read .

PART TWO OUT NOW : CINNAMON GIRL

Eyes flutter closed, allowing darkness to wash over you. Soft sounds of birds chirping fill the room around you, drowning out the constant humming of the chip in the back of your neck. You’re hyper aware of everything, the fabric of the blanket that covers you and the cold air that stings your nose as you breath in; chest rising and falling in rhythm.

You remember how reluctant the guards that watched over you were to allow you the sounds you so desperately needed to sleep, not believing your pleas to quiet your constantly racing mind. Nearly a week without rest made them understand rather quickly, when, despite the power dampener locked around your neck, talons began to grow out of your hands and your spine contorted with the growing of fleshy wings.

It seems you’ve been blessed, something has gone right for once in your life as you’re now able to change the sounds to whatever you wish instead of the constant rushing of waves. Secretly, you’re happy to have been put on this mission. Grateful, even, as much as you could be to a monster like Waller. Perhaps you could even forgive her for the electrocution you’d been put through.

Weasel kips at the foot of your bed, stuck to your side since the day you had snapped at him: barred your fangs and shoved him away from you. Something about the beast had been so pathetic that you ended up apologizing and giving a hesitant scratch to the back of his ears. He’s good company, loyal if not a bit of a flea concern, and he listens when you speak to him unlike many of the others in the special containment of Belle Reave.

Nina was kind, as well, perhaps a bit out of her element, though. You’d once tried to make small talk with GI but that ended as quickly as it had started with his sudden interrogation on if you were a Nazi. And god, you wouldn’t dare bring anything up to the others.

Crickets chirped through the headphones you had been allowed to wear, owls hooting and birds calling. A forest at night, a beautiful scene you were sure you wouldn’t be able to see freely again, but you do not indulge in those negative thoughts. You can already feel it looming over you, exhaustion and stress mingling to bring it out. The thing that stirrs inside you, monstrous and ugly. Its hungry, and you know better than to ignore that hunger lest the Weasel that kips at the foot of your bed be more than a scrap of fur.

So, you stirr. Sitting up in the bed you remove your headphones and push the blanket from your form quietly as to not disturb him. He’s almost cute when he sleeps, like a crusty old dog that resembles more of a tattered blanket than a pet. Regardless, you close the door quietly behind you and walk down the long winding hallways of the palace. Truthfully, you had never been anywhere quite as lavish, never had a king sized bed all to yourself or a private bathroom. Its almost too big, especially at night when the shadows dance up the walls and cast an ominous glare over just about everything.

You know better than to gaze at your shadow as you pass the large walls with royal family portraits. Unworthy, unrighteous, evil. The rosary marks still pierce your skin, forced to pray this thing away day and night till your palms and knees bled. You’ve grown resentful towards the being that shares your body. It makes demands of you, to feast, a single slip can give way and allow it to control you. Some kind of devil, the reason you’re here in the first place.

Your mouth had begun to hurt in your search for the kitchen, gums beginning to bleed and pool against the base of your tongue.. You’d have thought you’d be used to this by now, that your world wouldn’t continue to be turned upside down, that the Lord’s Prayer wouldn’t recite involuntarily in your mind as it all starts over again. You stumble over your own two feet, finding yourself silently wishing you had that power dampener around your neck once again. Your stomach rumbles more.

It feels like an eternity till you finally find the kitchen, thankful that all the servants had retired for the night so you can spit your mouthful of blood into the sink. Crimson stains the marble, dripping from your chin as you turn on the faucet to wash your mouth of the taste. Your fangs had grown in now, taking space in front of your canines and piercing uncomfortably against your bottom lip whenever you close your mouth. Hunger gnaws at your stomach as if beginning to consume the lining itself.

You throw open the fridge door with little care of the noise it makes as it slams into the counter beside it. Eyes scour for something, anything, till you land on a large, raw goose marinating for tomorrow nights feast. Shaky hands reach out to grab it, allowing the glass tray it sits in to fall to the ground and shatter. The shards prick at your bare feet, cutting and marring your skin with more blood, though you don’t seem to notice.

Fangs sink into the bird, soft flesh breaking at the intrusion. The taste is almost euphoric, never had you tasted a meat so rich and fatty; your body had gotten far too used to the awful prison food they served in containment. You rip out a large chunk; tendons harshly snapping from the body as you swallow nearly without chewing. Your eyes gloss over as you devour the bird, reaching in to grab at the sausage links that had also been waiting to be cooked the next day.

You hadn’t realized how much you had truly lost yourself till a harsh green glow halted your feast. Head whipping around to greet the skeletal face of Phosphorus, a hiss falling from your lips that still wrapped around a chunk of meat like a food insecure cat. He was your least favorite of all, acting as if he knew everything simply because he had been a doctor before his incident. Not like it mattered in Belle Reave, and certainly not in the monster sector they were kept in.

“Woah. Calm down, I’m not takin’ that from you.” A huff came from him, head tilted to the side as he watched you, almost intrigued with the way you acted. He simply stepped past you, walking over to the sink and simply staring down at the blood that had graced the basin. “This yours?”

The link fell from your mouth, rolling into the shards of glass and crimson as the fangs retracted back into your gums, eyes returning to normal. All you could do was stare at him, as if he had asked the most stupid question in the world. Smartest man in the room your ass.

“Who else’s would it be?”

“Don’t know, thats why I’m asking. Flag and I got into a fight earlier and I totally won, so I’m just wondering.”

“Oh.”

He leans back against the countertop, facing you now, the sleeves of his hoodie protecting him from burning through the granite. Part of him had always intrigued you, in a way, everyone but Weasel had a signature outfit; but him? A hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. It was almost comical how simple he was, though you supposed there wasnt much he could keep. A step towards him, wincing at the sudden realization of what you had done.

His gaze followed yours, looking down to the glass and blood that gushed from your feet and ankles. The light from the fridge and his green glow illuminated the space between you two, dancing off the shards on the floor. Your mouth was covered as well, sloppily wiped onto your cheeks as you had feasted. God, you looked a mess, but the pain distracted you from that fact. Biting your bottom lip to muffle a pathetic whimper of pain.

“Cmon don’t cry, what’s a little glass among friends?”

“I am not crying.”

If he had eyes to roll no doubt he would’ve. Stepping over to you and hooking an arm around your shoulder to help you stand without any warning. Your first instinct is to fight him off, to tell him no and shout at him, but you don’t. Instead, you lean into the touch and allow him to help you hobble up the stairs to, what you originally assume to be your room, but soon discover he’s guiding you into his, and then, into his bathroom.

Theres something almost intimate about the way he grabs your hips to help you onto the counter so he can patch you up. You hadn’t asked this from him, but it didn’t seem to matter much now as he filled a bucket with warm soapy water, dunking a rag in a few times and using the help of tweezers to pick the glass out of your skin. You do your best not to flinch, using the time to preoccupy yourself with washing off the blood from your face.

John 13. You detest the thought, Belle Reave had ripped every ounce of belief from your body, but the ceremonies and rituals of your youth had not quite left your mind, and the intimacy of the moment didn’t help. Silence filled the room, the only noises being the soft sounds of the wash cloth being dunked into the water and squeezed out. You’d seen it before, a relatives wedding, the washing of the feet ceremony. It’s meant to be intimate, to be between spouses, to show commitment and love just as Jesus had to his disciples. You feel far more like Judas, however, with the monster that festers inside you.

“So. What was that?” His voice snaps you from your thoughts, eyes fluttering down to look at him, hesitating at his question. You don’t have a good answer, not one that wraps everything up into a neat bow at the least. Just what you know, which isn’t much.

“It’s the reason I’m classified as a monster. Theres… something that lives inside me, a devil of sorts I was always told. It’s been there for as long as I can remember, its why I had to wear the collar back in confinement. It starts to creep out whenever I slip, get too comfortable or let my guard down.” You’re quiet, not wanting to break the softness of this encounter. “I’m sorry you had to see it.”

“You don’t have to apologize. We’re all freaks, its the whole point of this task force.”

“I guess. I’m still sorry.”

A huff comes from Phosphorus as he grabs a clean washcloth, dunking it in fresh water and reaching up to wipe off some of the blood that you had missed, that still marrs your mouth and flesh. He’s close, now, very much so. He smells of sulfur, though it does not cause you to recoil or scrunch your nose; its a scent you’ve grown accustomed to with the monster that shares your body. Can a skeleton be attractive? Is that possible?

You lean into the feeling of the warm washcloth against your cheek; having been so long since someone had touched you. Before you had been arrested you indulged in sin, lust, it had engulfed your body and it wasn’t a feeling you ever wanted to encounter again. How it could consume your entire being, give control over to someone other than yourself. It’s a fine line for you, but you feel the distantly familiar feeling of butterflies flutter in your stomach at the proximity of him.

You feel sick; like bile will creep up your throat any moment, but it doesn’t feel bad. Not with how he lets the cloth be a barrier between the two of you, between his hands that will burn your body at his touch. You’d welcome it, to let him cauterize your wounds and fix you. Your hands creep up to wrap around the back of his neck, protected by the hood of his sweater as you pull him closer. He’s warm, comfortable.

“I don’t like you apologizing, you look like a kicked puppy.”

“You’re smiling, though.”

“Can’t help it, I’m a skeleton, doll.”

His voice is a giveaway, though, possibly the most upbeat you had heard him despite the quiet and intimate nature of the room. You feel it, the radiating warmth from his other hand creeping down to your thigh, rubbing soft, soothing circles against the fabric that protects your skin from his touch. It would hurt, but a part of you almost welcomes it, wants to feel it.

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes focused on the hand that slowly crept higher from your thigh. He’s close, his heat rivaling that at your core. You miss the way his head tilts to the side at your demeanor, hands grasping and releasing the fabric of his hoodie over and over.

Phosphorus said nothing as he continued to wipe some of the blood from your mouth, lingering over your bottom lip while his other hand becomes preoccupied with cupping you over your pajama pants, skeletal fingers pressing in to give you some friction.

That nausea you had felt earlier returns tenfold, punishing yourself for feeling anything remotely good. The situation reminds you far too much of the last time, dipping too far into bliss. It seemed you had only blinked when the body of the lover you had found for the night was strewn across the room, spitting half eaten entrails out of your maw. He guides you to lean back against the mirror, your hand clasping over your mouth to muffle your sounds as he slips below the fabric of your nightwear.

You can feel it again, the hunger that rises to your chest. Your hands shake against your skin now, nailbeds aching with the growing of your talons. A whimper, squeezing your eyes shut. You are selfish, greedy. You’d rather relish in this than warn him, to have one moment that allows you to feel human, to feel wanted and loved.

A sudden burning feeling rips you from your thoughts, your hand had been removed from its post over your mouth and was held in his. Tears well in your eyes at the feeling, the searing pain that washed over your body and forces you to see white. It aches, branding you.

“Shit.” Is all that falls from his mouth, moving his hand away before you needily grasp it once more. Intertwining your fingers, keeping him there. The pain had forced the monster away, talons no longer threatening to protrude from your nailbeds and spine ceasing its contorting. You are lucky, graced with an opportunity to feel something beneath the endless pit in your stomach. To feel him.

“Don’t stop.” Your breathless words are more than enough to encourage his continuation, slotting himself between you legs and pressing the suddenly tight fabric of his sweatpants against you. A soft sigh falling from your lips, head tilted back, hair fluffing up on the mirror as he began to rock against you.

“I wont.” Slow, at first, as if testing the waters to gauge your reaction. Soft whines emitting from somewhere behind the skeletal teeth that were on display for you. Your hand scrunches up his hoodie, dragging his chest closer to you as he began to pick up the pace.

Needy and pathetic, his hips grinding rougher against your pajama pants, the tent in his pants catching on your covered clit; pulling a gasp from you as you arched your back. He focused his movements in that spot, up and then down to elicit soft whines and moans from you. Matching his neediness, having been touched starved for so long.

You’d grown up with depictions of heaven, imaginary white fluffy clouds somewhere high above the Earth. But here, right now, you’re more than convinced this is paradise. Rough fabrics rocking against each other, keeping you grounded on the countertop you sit on, the mirror behind you beginning to fog up with your heavy breathing. Your hands still intertwined, the harsh stinging drowned out at the near bliss you faced.

Hes sloppy now, nearing his finish far faster than you despite your state. Harsh whines fall from him as he grinds against you a few more times before panting and leaning against you. He’s winded for a moment, catching his breath, though the hand not holding yours travels back down to rub against your core.

Hes rough, guiding you to gush around nothing. You can feel your heartbeat below, drumming uncomfortably as you bury your face in the neck of his hoodie. His hand slips below your pajamas once more, continuing to tease your swollen clit and soaked folds as tears pricked at your eyes, squeezing his hand to single for him to stop.

Within a moment, he did. Ceasing the torment though not removing his hand from under your pants. Allowing your juices to pool against the cotton of your underwear before guiding his hand lower, placing his palm flat against your thigh and removing his other hand from yours. It stings, the cleansing fire emitting from him, your hand already burned as he brands your thigh with his handprint.

“Perhaps we should act like this didn’t happen… I’m sure it would make being on a team awkward.”

“I-... Yeah. Agreed. I should, um, head to bed.” Awkward you lift yourself from the counter and fix your pajama pants, slipping off the granite and setting against the cold tile floor. Your feet still hurt, though not nearly as bad as they had hurt before and surely nothing in comparison to the feeling of him against your skin.

He gives little more than a nod as you slink out the door, stumbling down the hall to find your own room and quickly running a hot bath. It would soothe you, make everything better, you deemed. Stripping to allow yourself to sink into the warmth as a sigh falls from your lips, eyes drawn to the handprint marked on your thigh.

You trace the outline with your finger, over and over almost obsessively and silently cursing him for his words. An asshole, you remembered, your least favorite in the little ragtag team. Though, with the way he had whimpered and moaned against you, you were halfway convinced you may be able to fuck the sarcasm and ill wit out of him.

#doctor phosphorus #dr phosphorus #creature commandos #creature commandos dc #smut #x reader #doctor phosphorus x reader #dr phosphorus x reader #i need that radioactive man so bad

917 notes · View notes

invenusworld · 5 months ago

Text

some astro notes on the EYES

- pisces, especially revati nakshatra can either have very expressive eyes or a blank stare; a gaze that's here, but "not here," a far-off look

- a strong influence of pitta - firey, hot planets like the sun & mars, malefic planets in fire signs can lead to "discolored" eyes that are not a bright white but may have an off-white or yellowish tint

- the whiteness of the eyes is associated with femininity, which corresponds with the water and earth element. kapha tends to give bright white eyes

- ardra nakshatra's deity is rudra, the terrifying form of lord shiva, who is said to have red eyes in some depictions

ardra natives are associated with red eyes and can have a wild, fierce look about them.

ardra is also associated with red eyes via its crying symbolism

& being a rahuvian nakshatra, is inclined to smoke 🌿

- leo rising can potentially bestow "yellow eyes," more prominently in males

- scorpio risings are said to have "power in their eyes," meaning they are very observant and see what people are doing. their eyes can be commanding & intimidating, as well as alluring, scorpio being a water sign

scorpio risings can be observant in a psychological sense, such as a observing body language and trying to gauge emotions and intentions from that, or studying micro facial expressions; observant in the occult sense of observing dreams, astrological studies, etc.

- rahu's nakshatras (ardra, swati, shatabisha) are extremely observant of their surroundings and the physical world they are placed in. immersed in the sights, sounds, smells of their environment, often leading to big, childlike eyes - full of wonder, soaking in the sights & sounds of the world

- the fire element represents vision, so afflictions to the fire signs may afflict the eyesight, depending on planetary conditions

- ashlesha natives have alluring, cat-like eyes that pull you in. eye makeup such as kohl or kajal and mascara can enhance this quality

- chitra natives can have big eyes that tend to narrow significantly when they smile, as well as rohini

- revati, bharani, krittika and venusian natives are good at acting with their eyes. they can excel at dance and can express different emotions with their eyes

- bharani natives can make excellent actors and performers due to being able to cry on command, & how dramatically they can express different emotions and invoke different emotions and reactions in audiences

bharani natives are also prone to crying and may often burst out in tears, though they may not like to show this aspect of themselves

bharani is associated with childbirth and babies who are prone to crying to express emotion.

676 notes · View notes

resurrection-if-game · 16 days ago

Text

re:Surrection is an upcoming interactive fiction game made in choicescript with high stakes slice of life and cyberpunk elements written by username zozopuff

Summary: You’re a bartender at a seedy neon bar on a space station in the not-so distant future of 2141. What the suspicious owner of the bar doesn’t know is that you have a secret – many secrets, really, but the important one would probably be that you’re a government experiment; a corpse brought back to life after an untimely death.

You’ve been sent into the workforce to prove to the researchers back at the facility that you can assimilate into society, resulting in the success of their experiment. They’ve given you a time limit of 30 days. If you can manage not to get fired, end up in jail, or get killed in a bar fight, then you’ll be free! If not, you’ll be another failure and culled.

Oh, and because they fried your brain a little during the reanimation process, you have a proclivity for violence. But you’re sure you’ll be fine. Mostly.

Features:

High stakes slice of life

Play as male, female, or nonbinary

Choose from four different backgrounds: ex-smuggler, ex-military, ex-xenobiologist, ex-salesman – I mean, marketing lead.

Survive 30 days as a bartender in a seedy bar that’s only safe when old Detective Black comes for a drink; and without strangling your lazy coworker (how hard can it be to fry chicken?).

Maybe romance the customer, Wren, (gender selectable) who understands your position quite literally.

Avoid filling your rage meter and going berserk. Or do.

Each day is slightly randomized so every playthrough would be unique.

The goal is to have a playable demo by the end of April that consists of an introduction and the first 5 days of gameplay. I plan to have a weekly devlog (this helps me keep on track lol). Progress on the demo is: Introduction (finished), Day 1 (~10% finished). I have posted a private playtest of the short introduction to re:Surrection on my patreon under the free membership option if you're interested in seeing how the game is shaping up.

My other work in progress is an adult high fantasy romance adventure game with RPG and dungeon break elements with a workable playtest that you can check out here.

#choicescript #hosted games #interactive fiction #if wip #if game

268 notes · View notes

livelaughlovesubs · 6 months ago

Text

~ 08.10 - Fyodor ~

Dom!abilityUser!reader x sub!Fyodor - reader is gender neutral

Warning: wrong use of ability, aphrodisiac, handjob, teasing, marking, biting, little manhandling, mind break, sub space (?), cum eating, finger sucking, dacryphilia, use of pet names like baby - darling, kinda manipulation (on both sides), hints of hierophilia

~ Word count: 5k ~

Nini!rant: did I repeat myself a lot during this fic? I hope not…

Kinktober list 2024

Your vision blurred. The smoke burned your eyes and lungs, and a rough and painful ache spread from your chest to your throat. It didn’t help that your consciousness was fading in and out, or that you felt like blanking out every time you closed your eyes. You coughed, repeatedly, enough for blood to drip down the corners of your lips. Its metallic taste was one of the very things still keeping you sane. Then you dropped to your knees, fingers clawing at the filthy floor, nails filled with dirt as everything around you got rendered to ashes.

The heat made you sweat, and even though you could feel a chilly sensation run down your spine, flickering lights and the crunch of wood burning filled your awareness. With the last bit of strength you had, you looked up, arms reaching out to your mentor. They were the one who raised you, and the one who were shrieking and burning on the ground.

“Ughh- guhh…!!” You tried to talk, to call out to them, yet your voice was hoarse. Only groans of pain alongside incoherent grumbles left your lips as a dark figure approached you. The person kneeled on one knee, using their hand to cover your dry eyes as they whispered, “This is the punishment for their crimes, their sins.” Before long, your vision turned black.

An infinite amount of time passed as you slumbered comfortably. It felt way more comforting than the harsh reality you've been exposed to. When you eventually woke up, you were still alive and breathing, there was also no pain anymore. The smoke subsided, the fire ceased and all the burning buildings disappeared, or were you simply somewhere else? How long has it been since you were knocked out? You sat up from where you were and tried to look around, that’s when you noticed the soft cushion beneath you. Someone brought you here, someone saved you-

“You are awake.” A pretty voice emerged from somewhere. You had a surprised expression on your face, though it almost immediately turned into an alert one the moment you saw whom the voice belonged to. “You- you are..! Urghh!” As soon as you raised your voice a little, you began coughing again, the pain also returned as if it was only playing a prank on you. “I’d advise you to not overuse your voice.” The male said, closing the distance between you two, and taking a seat opposite of you.

There was a large window behind him, where warm rays of sunlight gently illuminated the room. Some of the orange light shone upon his silky black hair, causing it to have a colorful glow. The sky was a mix of red and pink decorated with some elements of orange and yellow, all these shades faded and intertwined, creating a scenery worthy of the title 'perfect'. Based on that alone, it must be dawn right now. In your memory, it was in the middle of the night when that horrific accident happened. It means you’ve been knocked out for at least a day.

Now wasn’t the time to admire nature's beauty, you had more important things at hand, for example, the person in front of you. He has been reticent since he sat down, piercing through your skull with his violet eyes. It felt like he was trying to read your mind, this pressure was suffocating. “Fyodor Dostoyevsky.” You mumbled weakly, each word you uttered itched and hurt. This man was the one who burned your home, he’s the one who put your mentor to sleep. But why?

Many strong emotions filled you from the inside, about to make you explode. Though you couldn’t, now wasn’t the time. “Why… did you let me live?” You asked him, hoping to get to know what your value is in his eyes and the reason behind his actions. Was he planning on using you as a war trophy? “What did master do to you?!” Due to your lack of voice, you were whispering, yet the way you stressed your words showed your intentions, you were in despair, and pure confusion.

Instead of answering anything, he poured you and himself some tea, then gestured for you to drink. “It's a simple black tea with lemon and sugar, to soothe your throat," he explained as he reached for his cup, but you bested him to it. Out of concern and wariness, you took his cup instead of yours, not caring about politeness in the face of death. Fyodor didn't stop you, he pulled his hand back to let you have full access to his cup, then grabbed yours and took a sip.

Despite the absurdity of the situation, you were thankful for the beverage, its effects showed in less than a minute. Afterward, he got up to go over to you, he leaned forward to cup your cheeks, and his gesture was painfully gentle. It tugged at your heart, it stung and you felt tears prickling in the corners of your eyes, the loss of someone dear was still a fresh wound.

For some unknown reason, you couldn’t move, too overwhelmed to act, too speechless to push him away. The burning sensation returned, a small part of you wished you could go down with your instructor. “As for your question, it's because I only punish the sinners.” He showed you a look of pity, full of what seemed to be genuine empathy, brows furrowed as he cooed, “Your mentor, he… he has been torturing the innocent souls of this world, there was no other way.” The way he talked was peculiar, strangely foreign yet elegant.

When the news of your teacher being a cold-hearted murderer echoed through your mind, you felt your world crumbling for a moment. They would never do that- right? After all, if they were that ruthless, they wouldn’t have taken you in. You didn’t know where to look at. What if he was lying? Was your faith in your guardian so poorly that you’d believe false information this quickly? Yet you weren’t able to shake off that ominous feeling, that familiar sense of betrayal and doubt.

"I'm sure it came across as quite the shock, but I ask you to believe me." The male said, pulling out a stack of paper from under the desk, and slamming it onto the tea table. "Feel free to look through it, take as much time as you need. And, my condolences." A hint of bitterness laced his tone. Your heart was wavering now, torn between whether or not you should believe him. The way he acted seemed to be real, though it could also be that he was a fantastic actor. In the end, you decided to reach out to the proof he provided you, holding one of the papers as you scanned over it.

It was a detailed report doting down the various crimes your mentor apparently committed, you even realized some of the events, but in a different setting. "Is... is this for real..? Haha- I can't believe it, and, if that's so, I didn't find out all this time?" Your thoughts hung from your lips and showed on your expression, a part of your world was crumbling down on you.

A sense of guilt and dizzy disgust engulfed you, shaking you from the core, and making you question all the memories made with him and your very existence. Could you still call yourself innocent after aiding such a horrible person with such a nativity? Even though you were still lost in your own little space, he raised your chin up, to stare down at you. Your noses were almost touching with how close he was. And with how the light drew across his features, paired with the romantic nature of the atmosphere, you couldn’t stop an impulsive thought from occurring.

The short-lived idea of him being a saint, a divine sent to expose the truth and bring salvation— he has saved you, twice now. You blinked a few times, wondering how you could think of something like that, it was crazy. Your brain must be struggling to process all this information, which led to you having some insane ideas, that must be the case, surely.

The closeness was making you feel dizzy again, eyes staring right into his dark pupils. He was smiling at you, kindly so, though his eyes had nothing but emptiness behind them. Even someone great like him isn't perfect in the art of acting, the eyes are said to be windows to the soul after all. “Y/n.” Fyodor mumbled his voice tender as it wrapped around your heart like a seductive spell, making you feel grossed out by your body's perception of him.

“Focus on me.” The male reminded you, the corners of his lips going up a little. You resumed staring at him, feeling the mood change involuntarily. It’d be a lie to say he wasn’t pretty, and he appeared even more beautiful when he calmly suggested, “Y/n, why don’t you join the decay of angels. By doing so, you can pay for the sins of the deceased, and he'll eventually be able to rest in peace.” He wasn’t asking you, he was making a deal.

You didn't know why but something about him made you feel drawn to him, it made you want to peruse him. Whatever it was that caused you to feel this way, you didn’t want it, it was annoying how it kept clouding your judgment. The thought of joining the enemy group so soon without mourning for the departed didn’t seem correct.

But you couldn’t decline either.

All you could do was stay in your seat, a drop of sweat dripping down the sides of your face as you subconsciously admired him. This bubbling sensation spread to every fever of your being, and in the end, you nodded meekly. The smile on his face widened, and then he asked you, “Y/n, please tell me how your ability works.” Once again, he didn’t seek your opinion, only stating what you had to do. But he was also aware you were an ability user, which might tied into the reasons why he saved you.

With a little hesitation, you reached your hand out to stroke his hair, his didn’t pull back or flinch, as if he was used to it, and nudged into your warm palm. Without missing a beat, you whispered in the still rough voice, “It’s poisonous gas.” As soon as he heard that, he noticed a sweet smell coming from the direction of your hand and he shuddered. Eyes widened while the sickening grin didn’t leave his face, as if he was proud of your small victory against him.

Before he could open his mouth, you added, “It’s not a life-threatening one, don’t worry.” He didn’t look angry, only amused as he let go of you, lingering for a moment longer than necessary before pulling back, sneering almost confidently, “A sly one, aren’t you?” You gave him a bright smile in return, "and you're confident much."

After his touch departed from you, he could feel his body heating up, a strange rush of need engulfing him, eating away at him from the inside. He blamed it on the poison, and he wasn’t wrong. His mind searched for the kind of poison this might be, trying to match the symptoms before he got interrupted by you, or more specifically your hand which had been placed on his head, without him noticing, he must have been careless. You scratched his scalp as gently as he has been treating you. It didn’t look like you were caressing a person but rather a cat, crawling at his skin.

For some reason, his heartbeat went higher and his blood rushed to his head, a meek whine slipping past his rosy lips, “Hmm...” He was in disbelief at his own voice, baffled by how foreign it was. Hell, he didn't recognize himself, this was like a completely different person. “What did you do-” Fyodor's gaze shot up to you, he sensed something ominous.

Consequentially the hand on his head moved down and clasped over his mouth while your other one wrapped around his waist. Then you pulled him closer, getting up in the process and pressing him into the soft cushions. The warmth of your body heat still lingered on his skin, it felt strangely comforting. A heavy blush crept onto his features as he furrowed his brows, both of his hands now crawling at your wrist, trying to peel you off him.

Though he didn’t need to do that, since you were willing to let go by yourself. Alternatively, you were holding his slim waist with both hands now, fingers sinking into his flesh loving yet roughly. “Uh-hmm..!” This time, he placed his hands over yours, trying to signal you to stop. Whenever you pressed down on his hips, a tingly feeling would course through him and he’d shudder helplessly. Poor boy didn’t take it that well, head hanging forward while he gritted his teeth. His pitch-black hair framed his face, sliding past his shoulders and tickling you by brushing over your skin.

“Let go, y/n..” he voiced out those shaky words, letting his facade crumble. You got even closer, nose now in the crook of his neck as you took a deep breath. Then you whispered into his ears, “Thank you for saving me and telling me the— truth…” The last word became so quiet he was barely able to register it. After that, you stuck the tip of your tongue out to lick his earlobe, at the same time you drew circles on his hips with your thumbs.

“Hnngh.. w-what are you..?!” Fyodor winced again. Because you were basically pressing your upper body against his, he couldn’t help but lock his hands around your neck, holding onto you tightly as he pressed his chin against your shoulder. His eyes were half-lidded as more lewd sounds escaped him. At the same time, this weird emotion coursing through him kept making him feel all buzzy inside. Confusion was a word much too vague to explain the state he was in.

On the other hand, you thought the way he held onto you was cute, it was like a little kitten that didn’t want you to leave. “...So please let me repay you.” You uttered, finishing your sentence from before after a long break, then answered his questions, “You are currently under the effects of an aphrodisiac, I thought it might help me service you better.” That’s why he’s feeling this way, so hot and bothered. It was because of your ability.

“M-make it go away then…!” He groaned, glaring at you. You weren’t expecting him to engage in such unsightly acts now, were you? “I am doing that right now. Don’t worry, you’ll feel so good.” A somewhat sinister smile spread on your lips, and then you bit his ear. “UhmM..! No- what?" Fyodor shuddered, head spinning a little from all these foreign sensations. "Are there other ways?” This is bad, it was so pleasurable that it was maddening. His body has become so sensitive all due to the poison, that he was reacting to your every touch, every light brush of your skin against his.

“Begrudgingly, no. Since there’s no other way, try to enjoy it.” You explained, one hand moving to his collar and unbuttoning his shirt while your eager tongue trailed down from his ear to his neck, leaving behind a wet path. “Haaah… you- ughh!” He eventually gave in, squeezing his eyes shut as his body quivered. Now both hands were working on his clothes, but you did it slowly, teasingly slow. At the same time, you licked over his skin, occasionally sucking on a specific area. It didn’t take long until you found a spot he especially liked.

You knew by how he squirmed around, arms losing strength as they limped and fell back next to his body, a dark reddened spot forming where your lips last touched him. It was too much, this drug was making him go insane, he couldn’t think of anything but giving himself to you. “Please..” he begged unbeknownst to himself, feeling you prying his shirt open. Then your knee pressed against his tightly shut legs, trying to separate them and force your way between.

After you did, you grabbed his waist and adjusted his position a little. He didn’t show any resistance, only whimpering in silence as he let you manhandle him. Tears prickled in the corners of his eyes from raw lust, the need for your touch made him so frustrated that he became impatient. “Hurry up.. take responsibility for the mess you made,” Fyodor demanded while wearing a needy expression, you didn't know he was such a touch-starved man. “If that’s what you want.” You smirked devilishly as you took a bite out of him, or rather, you left your teeth marks on his pale skin.

The marks were deep, sinking down on him, like a form of testimony for this shared intimacy. Many hickeys were placed around the bite marks, decorating his sickly-looking body with colors. “Cute,” you commented on his appearance, then moved your lips past his chest down to his belly button. Fyodor didn’t react to that silly compliment, thinking it must have been a slip of the tongue. He let out a shaky breath when he felt you rubbing your cheek against his smooth and soft skin. That single gasp soon turned into a series of huffed moans due to you teasing his nipples.

You used both hands to skilfully circle around the nuds, sometimes flicking them with the tip of your fingers, or nudging them lovingly. Small gestures like this were enough to make him turn his head to the side, cursing out this annoying poison. The more you played with him, the stronger his reactions became. When you got to rubbing his cute and hardened nipples, his thighs squeezed around your waist, subconsciously trying to hide something very inappropriate. But you noticed anyway. He got hard by having his chest played with, enough for him to leak through his pants.

“Fyodor, I didn’t know your nipples were this sensitive.” You gasped excitedly, acting more dramatic than needed. A small yet noticeable wet patch was on his pants, the sticky fluid seeping through the fabric. “It’s because, hah.. of the aphrodisiac.” The male argued, gazing up at you all hostile. “Mhm, sure sure.” Instead of letting it get to you, you continued what you were doing. Humming to yourself before questioning him, “Well, do you want me to touch you?” His eyes basically lit up at that question, drool on the verge of dripping down the corners of his mouth.

“Mhm…” his tone was meek as if he was deliberately hiding his excitement. Putting his pride aside for now, he nodded almost too eager for his liking, and proceeded to avoid your gaze again. Since you got his approval, you decided to take it a step slower, leaning back to take your time to admire him. To worship him. That’s when you noticed how slim he was. Maybe it was due to his hands that were buried in his sleeves, or his shirt that was slipping down his arms, no matter the reason, he looked so petite right now. He was not intimidating or scary at all, not like the demon he was rumored to be.

You’ve already noticed his rather weakly looking physique, but to think it was this apparent. He didn’t really have any toned muscles, nor did he have any colors on his face. To be honest he seemed fragile, like a porcelain doll. When you put your hands on his hips again, gently holding him up and making him arch his back, the only thought running through your head was how easily you could snap him in two, causing you to be even more gentle with him, way more than before. All to take care of this man who was like a saint sent from above.

“D-don’t tease.” Fyodor groaned, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. His arms were still holding your back, clinging to you. Seeing him so needy and defiled made you impatient as well, and you rubbed his bulge through his clothes. The dark patch grew in size, and some of the liquid stuck to your hand. “I-I said don’t tease.” He repeated his words, this time putting more emphasis on his tone, toes curling while he tried to close his legs, of course to no avail. “I doubt this is only the work of the aphrodisiac.” You commented, then pulled his pants down alongside his underwear, revealing his throbbing cock.

It was twitching around in an angry shade of red, leaking pre with no end in sight. “You look like you enjoy it so much, it's so lewd.” You commented, smiling satisfied. The boy glared at you, he didn’t seem to appreciate your commentary, sneering, "Don't let that imagination of yours run wild. It's all the work of your ability." Then he locked his legs around your waist before scoffing, “Just get on with it.” He held you close to him, so close you could hear his weak but fast heartbeats. It had a weird sense of calmness to it.

Ignoring the fact his voice trembled with every word, he was simply too adorable to take him seriously. “Of course, if you allow me the honor of corrupting you?” You asked sarcastically, and your snarky question was met with a fierce glare from him. “I’m not getting corrupted, I’m thriving out the pest inside my body. And may I remind you just whose fault it is?”

Following closely were the muffled laughs from you, hoping to not embarrass him. “Yes yes~ it’s all my fault, so I’m taking responsibility.” Then you wrapped your hand around his shaft, pumping his dick up and down. “HnggGhh! Ah- ahh.. wait, that’s so s-sudden..?!” He moaned loudly, unable to restrain his voice. Your other hand caressed his body, still placed on his waist and holding him up.

“Was I wrong when I speculated you wanted this to be over quickly?” You pressed your forehead against him, slowing down to rub his sensitive gland. More and more precum collected at the tip, dripping down his member, making lewd squelch sounds whenever you moved your fingers. “Haaah…” he squeezed his eyes shut, clawing at your back to balance out the growingly overwhelming sensations. Moaning into your ear, encouraging you with the sweetest melody known to mankind. “Huh? Yes.. you, you weren’t wrong. So hurry… please.”

Right now, you must be grinning so stupidly, totally captivated by him. You quickened your pace, hands gliding across his skin. It was very easy since he had been dripping so much, and you couldn’t stop yourself from making a comment about it, “You are so wet down there, Fyodor. Are you that excited?” He pinched your back, embarrassed by your words, “Don’t- nggGhh… make my body sound so perverted ♡.” Afterward, he continued to try and bite back his moans, but he failed miserably.

“Ah- hmmm..!! It’s too intense, y/n.” Pretty tears rolled down his cheeks as he mumbled as quietly as possible, his voice all breathy and broken. When you noticed these fresh tears climbing down his face, you leaned close to him and licked them away. His tears were salty, like any other human, and they were still warm when they reached your tongue. He sobbed meekly in response to your questionable course of action, his cries stiffening a little.

Why was he crying? Was it due to the embarrassment he felt, or the troubling feelings bubbling inside him? Or because he was too overwhelmed by his own emotions, by this growing heat that was on the verge of exploding? Nonetheless, he blamed it on the aphrodisiac, to shelter himself from the truth, to deny reality once more.

“It’s alright, it’s normal to feel this way.” You whispered against his smooth skin, only moving your lips minimally. With the hand that used to be on his waist, you wiped the tears from the other cheek, watching the water dry after a while, commenting with an adoring voice, “So beautiful.” He was stunned by how tender you were with him, it made his skin crawl and his heart tighten. It was noticeable by the way his blush seemed to intensify. His dick twitched against your hand, uncontrollably so, desperate for more friction and attention. “A-a bit more— I, hic, a little bit…” Fyodor said, unsure what he meant with little, but he knew he was close.

Your hand was all slippery with his juices, and you made sure that he knew every single detail. “Look at that, my hand’s all sticky and dirty now, thanks to you.” To demonstrate what you meant, you raised your hand and held it in front of him, waiting until he opened his eyes to have a look. “Ah..” he winced a little at the loss of pleasure, then buried himself into the nook of your neck, choking out a muffled sentence, “I-I don’t want to see that.. just- make this heat stop… it h-hurts ♡.”

When he did that, you felt your own heart skip a beat, and you cooed at him, “Aah.. right, yes, my bad. You are just too cute.” He held his breath, and only exhaled when he felt your finger wrap around his weeping cock. You kissed his hair, wrapping one arm around his head and playing with the hair on the other side, stroking and caressing it. “So very cute.”

Fyodor seemed to have a rather hard time registering the fact these compliments were meant for him, and not just for the heat of the moment. He stayed quiet, except for the occasional whine that’d escape him when you drag your hand up and down his twitching dick. Then you raised the speed of your hands again, now trying to bring him over the edge. His nails dug into your flesh when he noticed a knot forming in his stomach, toes curling while he gritted his teeth. Your touch was simply heavenly, there was no better way for him to describe it.

"Arghh, y/n..? D-don't stop, don't you dare- i- nghh!!" The male threatened though he wasn't able to finish his sentence without his moans interrupting him. "Hmm~? Why can't I stop?" You teased him, despite knowing the reason very well. Your hand pumped him fast and steadily, slowly down only to take extra care of his tip. He inhaled sharply, opening his mouth to speak but ending up biting your shoulder with a messy expression. "Mfmmhh..! HnnGh~"

A shiver ran down your spine, you could barely stop yourself from grinning as you asked again, "Is something the matter, Fyodor?" If only he wasn't so messed up right now, he'd be seething with anger. Because right now, no matter what expression he pulled, he looked like a ravished and whithering animal. Wet and dried tears continued spilling from his swollen eyes, his entire upper body was covered in marks like a cherry blossom, and his skin glistened with sweat and a heavy blush.

Now moving down to his lower body, which looked like something straight out of a sinful magazine, he was so wet and sticky that he felt ashamed. To be this aroused from nothing but a simple handjob as well, it was a huge hit to his ego. Fyodor took a few moments to collect himself, and once he did, he mumbled almost inaudibly, "It feels too good.. m' gonna cum.." That was the moment you absolutely lost it, you were so infatuated with him it was worse than hypnotise.

Quickening your pace once more, you chuckled happily, "It's alright baby, cum for me, spurt it alll over my hand ♡♥︎" the sudden rise in intensity and pleasure caught him off guard, so badly that he scratched your back, screaming in ecstasy, "aaHhHGgg! W-wait, s-stop~!! It's- it's too muucHhhh! ♡♡ cumming, cumiiinnnng, pull away, it's dirty~ ♥︎♡" The boy looked like he was going crazy from all this bliss, head thrown back while his pupils turned heart-shaped.

He was mewling, drooling, and shaking from his core, brain way too mushy to think, to see if what he was babbling even made sense. Never would you have thought you could turn such a composed and fine man into this dumb little thing, addicted to the sin of the flesh. You kept moving your hand to help him come down from his high, lips pressed against the shell of his ear, "Shhh, it's alright darling, it's okay. It doesn't hurt, right? So it's okay, defile my hand like how I defiled you."

A few minutes passed in silence. You gave him enough time to get used to the feeling and cope with the reality. In the meantime, your hand departed from him, your fingers were all slick with his body fluid, and a pool of thick semen collected on your palm. While you were wondering what to do with it, his breathing was ragged and heavy, looks like he was still not used to all of this. You reached for some tissues from the table, wanting to clear up this mess if not for him to suddenly grab your wrist, bringing your finger to his lips and sucking on them feverishly.

He lapped up all the fluids clinging to you, all while gazing at you with the same eyes as before. Heart-shaped and pleasure-ridden, addicted, and out of his mind. Despite him still having your fingers in his mouth, he cried out, "he heet if stell here, i-if dihmmd woo.." (the heat is still there, it didn't work) before taking your fingers out, gulping down the fluids, and pleading sweetly, "p-please purge me more...♡♥︎♡" This was unexpected, you didn't expect him to react in this way. But you weren't going to complain, you didn't mind taking it a step further. Just...

How were you going to explain that you never used your ability on him?

Tags: @showtime-ss @thisisnotangel @ghostgoosygoose @i-dont-fooken-know @chuuya-brainrot @allyfoxglove @thigh-o-saur @fallenthemisticalyingyang @fem-dom-roze

Nini!rant 2.0:

An aphrodisiac sounds like something really fun, right? Though sadly there is no such thing in real life. According to science, all these foods and pills that claim to raise sexual desire and lust have no real correlation with boosting arousal. Because after all, sexual desire is created due to a series of brain chemistry and sometimes hormones. And that is something so complex it can’t be mimicked with chemicals or food.

Chocolate? The sugar raises euphoria and others, but not lust. Oysters? Apparently it raises testosterone levels, though that’s not arousal neither. Cinnamon and exotic spices? Now that’s a stretch. Sometimes the things suggested by people aren’t even healthy to consume! Like the Spanish fly, which helps with getting an erection. But that’s actually just blisters in the urethra, the tube in the penis…. Cuz the fly comes from blister beetles… yea

Though I’m not saying it can’t work, because sexual desire is created by the brain, right? So if you believe eating a banana helps then you can trick your brain, and it ends up actually helping. Or the rumour with the spices, most of the time it’s about the smell, and if you smell something nice that you like, that calms you, you’re more likely to become turned on then agitated or sad.

I wish aphrodisiacs were real though 😔

586 notes · View notes

weaver-z · 2 years ago

Text

Dumb rant about art incoming. Something about the character design of Pixar's Elemental disgusts me. It's not just the generic belongs-in-a-heartburn-ad look of the female lead or the Generic Pixar Man (water edition) look of the male lead. It's the fact that the earth and air elementals, almost all of whom are background characters, are stout and large and round, while the protagonists (and certain water and fire side characters) still follow the obnoxious Pixar "slimthick woman, slightly out-of-shape (but not fat!!) man" rule of character design. And they're all just so, so boring. Look at this and try to feel anything.

#elemental #i haven't seen the movie but the plot looks SO bad #it comes out soon #''hey let's give the polar opposite elements of earth and air the same body type'' i HATE YOU

6K notes · View notes

inlovewithpandora · 2 months ago

Text

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — Summers In Pandora ᝰ Day 31 - Body Worship/Praising

Artists — Ao’nung x fem!Metkayina!reader

Lyrics — Tonight Ao’nung wants nothing more than to dive between your pretty thighs but after a long day of duties you’re exhausted. His desire for you burns so hot that he offers to do all the work so you can be his pretty pillow princess.

Music Advisory — SMUT [ mature audiences only!], aged up!Ao’nung, fluff, established relationship [mates], needy!Ao’nung, [implied] pleasure dom!Ao’nung, soft!Ao’nung, oral sex + fingering [fem receiving], double stimulation, face fucking, hair pulling, aftercare, allusions to male masturbation, lots of compliments and praise ᝰ this fic does contain aged!up character smut so if you don’t like that type of content please don’t interact and continue scrolling!!

Duration — 2.7k words

Index — Tsakarem - Tsahìk-in-training・Sayrìp - Handsome・ Syulang - Flower・Yawne - Love

Words from Artist — This was my first time writing smut for Ao’nung and it was really fun! This idea was originally supposed to be for Kinkmas 2023 but I never finished it so I decided to put a spin on it and make it fit this prompt. As always feel free to comment and reblog, I love reading y’all reactions! I hope you enjoy!!

Current Platforms — event m.list・main m.list・event taglist ・prompt list

Today there was a cold wind blowing throughout the village and it was causing a draft in your home. When the cold breeze kept gliding across your skin you could feel yourself shivering so you decided to start a fire and gather around it so it would warm up yourself and your home. When you start the fire you can immediately feel the heat emitting from it and it's already eliminating the cold air that's constantly flowing inside.

Ao’nung is next to you during the whole process and he watches you in awe, loving how you always take charge and make things happen. You've always been the type of woman to get things done no matter what it requires, you never wait around for a man to assist you and that’s one of the main reasons Ao’nung wanted you as a mate, he absolutely loves that quality about you so by watching you in your element he can’t help but feel a little turned on.

After a while both you find yourselves laying down a few inches away from the fire, your head laying on his chest and arm wrapped around his torso while his hand is resting on your thigh. The night is going perfectly just like you wanted, after the long day you’ve had all you want is to lay with your mate until you drift off to sleep. You can feel your eyes growing heavy so you allow them to close, happily letting sleep take over your body but that plan is interrupted when you feel Ao’nung’s hand travel from your thigh to your ass, squeezing it gently before rubbing it in a circular motion. You already know what he's implying by his actions, you know your mate very well. When he starts rubbing against the flesh of your ass, moving your hair out the way to place soft kisses on your neck, and teasing his fingers around the strings that are holding your loincloth together you know he wants sex.

When you feel his other hand inching toward your bra top you grab his wrist and stop him. “Not right now, baby. I’m tired and I just want to sleep.” From completing your numerous duties around the clan and also having to do your Tsakarem training with Ronal which took several hours, drained all the energy you had stored for the day. If this was a normal day and you had a good amount of energy you would of course engage in the marital act with Ao’nung but tonight you’re just too worn out. “Just let me take a nap and then I’ll do whatever you want, okay?”

Everything you just said basically went in one ear and out the other. Ao’nung doesn’t want to wait, he wants you now. He wants the sweet taste of your arousal on his tongue now, he wants to hear your sweet moans now, he wants to feel your hands gripping his hair as he devoured your heat now, he can’t wait until you wake up from your nap. “I’ll do all the work, all I want is you to lay back and look pretty for me. How does that sound syulang?” Ao’nung practically worships the ground you walk on, whether it’s publicly or privately, he always lets you know how grateful he is to have you, how beautiful you are, and how sexy your body is.

To him this is you’re world and he’s just lucky enough to live in it. Ao’nung is willing to do whatever it takes to see you squirm underneath his touch, he doesn’t want you to feel like you need to please him because by allowing him to pleasure you is enough for him, he could cum from simply knowing he’s satisfied you to the best of his abilities.

When you hear Ao’nung’s offer all you can do is let out a little laugh, you can tell he really wants to dive between your thighs. His eagerness is definitely turning you on, knowing that your mate is craving you without even having to do anything sexual is starting to make a pool of slick form between your legs. At first you were going to brush him off but now his horniness is rubbing off on you so you decide to cave and allow him to have his way with you. “That sounds perfect, sayrìp.”

The words barely have time to settle in Ao’nung’s mind before he pulls you in for a lustful kiss, swirling his tongue around your mouth while gripping your chin, moving his hand down and wrapping it gently around your neck. When Ao’nung can’t contain himself any longer he moves his hands down your body, using his mighty strength to rip off both articles of your clothing, revealing your round perky breasts and the mound of your sweet pussy.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that? Your body is so perfect, made just for me.” Ao’nung whispers as his eyes scan your body in awe, wondering how Eywa found him such a gorgeous and perfect mate. He feels like your body is carved and sculpted just for him, just for his hands to touch, for his eyes to see, and for his body to be pressed against. It isn’t long before his head is between your thighs, the sweet smell of your arousal making him feel like a man possessed as he runs his tongue over your slit, spreading you open in a swift manner before lapping up your juices so the sweetness of your arousal can dance on his tongue. His tongue finds its way to your clit, sucking on your precious pearl which makes you squirm within seconds.

Ao’nung continues swirling his tongue around your clit, giving it a deep kiss while it throbs against his palate, making a breathy moan from you fill the air. It’s a continuous process: flick, lick, suck, all the motions that’ll bring you great pleasure which is exactly what your mate wants. You can feel him spreading your juices on your inner thighs and his saliva running down your folds, making the flat of his tongue caress every pleasure point. After a while he comes up for air, wanting to savor your delicious taste and amazing scent. “Eywa, woman you taste good.” Ao’nung groans, his chest heaving as he catches his breath which makes you giggle because you’re ultimately doing the same before he continues feasting on you.

Once his lungs feel replenished he lowers his head between your thighs again, causing your breath to hitch in your throat at the unexpected feeling of his tongue swirling around the entrance of your pussy. After teasing you for a few moments, enjoying the desperate whines from you filling his ears while making it seem like he would place his tongue inside but only circling around the outer edge, he finally gives you what you want, intruding your hole and pushing his tongue inside.

“Oh, fuck,” You can feel your legs instinctively spread to make more your room for Ao’nung’s head that’s now moving in multiple directions, and your hips thrust upward wanting to feel him as much as possible. Your hands make their way to the top of his head, tangling your fingers in his curly hair as you grind against his face, practically suffocating your poor mate but he’s so drunk off your pussy he doesn’t give a damn.

With each stroke of his tongue he can feel you opening more and more for him, your warm slick leaking out and sliding down his tongue while the access drips down his chin and travels down his neck. Seeing how you’re reacting to him, tightening your grip in his hair, rutting against his face like an animal, and how you’re so eager to cum all over his face makes him want to ram his cock inside you until your eyes are puffy with tears, seeing your arousal stick to his pelvis as he thrusts inside you until he’s filled you to the brim with his warm seed.

The lewd thoughts he’s conjured up in his mind makes him moan into your heat, pressing his tongue further into you as he uses his hand to gently rub circles against your clit for added stimulation and double pleasure. Every small spasm and tiny twitch that ripples through you, Ao’nung call feel. Any movement you make, any warning tremor your body makes that you’re about to cum he reads loud and clear, wanting to make sure when you cum, you cum hard.

“Mmm! Don’t fucking stop!” And with that the Metkayinan goes into overdrive, his mouth, tongue, and fingers begin to work tirelessly, switching between slurping up every single drop of your sweet juices and swirling around your clit, smothering himself by stuffing his nose into your mound to reach the depths of you and fill his nostrils with your intoxicating aroma. Right now he doesn’t even care about his aching jaw, throbbing cock, or lack of oxygen, all he wants to do is please the woman he’s been blessed with.

Ao’nung slips two of his fingers into your wetness with ease and curls them just right, causing his fingertips to press against your sweet spot. His thick fingers stretch you out beautifully, and that paired with his controlled strokes, powerful sucks and long licks of his mouth, he coaxes you over the edge, bringing forth an ecstasy that only he can give your body. A sharp gasp leaves your lips, your grasp tightening the strands of his hair as your thighs snap close around his head, not allowing him any movement other than continuing to devour your heat.

Your orgasm almost takes you out, it makes you shake, your muscles spasm and twitch uncontrollably as your back arches off the mat underneath you and soon it turns into complete bliss. His fingers continue their relentless pace of pumping in and out of you, lengthening your orgasm while he gently kisses and sucks on your clit until your body slowly goes limp from the incredible pleasure he’s inflicting on you.

Ao’nung’s hand wraps around your thigh, gently tapping your supple skin, silently telling you to untangle yourself from him which you do in an instant, unwrapping your legs from around his shoulders and allowing him to sit up properly. When your eyes look up at him he’s glistening in your slick. His chin, lips, and nose are covered in your juices, making your cheeks heat up from the sight. When your eyes trail down his body you notice the outline of his hardened cock straining against the woven material of his loincloth, making your mouth water at how enlarged it looks and the blots of pre-cum you can see soaking through.

You blink up at Ao'nung, still feeling the warm tingles of aftershocks in your body as he starts to clean you with careful, practiced strokes. The damp cloth is soothing against your oversensitive skin, his touch so light it feels like a whisper. His soft hums of approval and the quiet murmurs of praise in your native tongue send shivers down your spine. "You are perfection, syulang," he murmurs, his deep voice like a soothing balm. "You have given me all I need tonight. Just seeing you like this... it is enough."

Your hairless brows knit together, lips parting as you glance down at the evidence of his own arousal, still taut against the fabric of his loincloth. The woven material struggles to contain him and his cock is practically growing in size by the minute. Your mate is anything but sated, and you know it. “But Ao’nung,” you protest while propping yourself up by your forearms, your voice slightly hoarse as you try to speak. “you haven’t—”

Ao’nung’s hand pauses, the damp cloth resting on your thigh as he takes a moment to study your face and the expression it holds. The slight flush in your cheeks, the way your chest rises and falls as you catch your breath, and the glazed-over look in your eyes tell him everything he needs to know. “You’re exhausted, y/n,” he murmurs, his voice laced with special tenderness that’s strictly reserved for you. He gently brushes a stray strand of hair away from your damp forehead, his fingers lingering against your temple. “I pushed you enough tonight. You’ve done more than enough for me.”

“But yawne—”

He shakes his head firmly, though his touch remains soft as he resumes cleaning you with the damp cloth. “No, syulang. You need to rest. It doesn’t feel right to make you do more when I can see how tired you are.” His gaze flickers to your trembling thighs and then back to face that clearly shows how sleepy you are. “I’ll be fine. Just go to sleep.”

As his wife you feel like it is your duty to sexually gratify your husband no matter what so the idea of leaving him unsatisfied sits uneasily in your mind. You reach for his wrist, stopping him mid-movement. “It doesn’t feel right to leave you like this,” you tell him, your voice firm despite the fatigue threatening to pull you under. “You’re my mate. I need to take care of you too.”

Ao’nung’s lips quirk into a faint, affectionate smile. “Stubborn, as always,” he mutters under his breath, though his tone is filled with nothing but adoration. “You’ve already taken care of me. Watching you cum for me is all I needed.”

Still, you persist, your hand tightening slightly around his wrist, wanting him to just give in already and allow you to reciprocate the pleasure he gave you. “Well, It doesn’t feel like enough.”

Ao’nung lets out a low chuckle at how persistent you are and how you’re fighting sleep just so you can return the favor, which makes him just fall deeper in love with you. His free hand comes up to cup your cheek, forcing you to meet his gaze. “It’s enough for me,” he says softly, his thumb brushing along your cheekbone. “I would much rather you rest than push yourself when I know you’re already spent.”

You open your mouth to argue again, but Ao’nung leans forward, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead that causes you to silence your words before you can make them audible. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll take care of it myself if I need to.” He doesn’t mind jerking off to flashbacks of you trembling under his touch, imagining your warmth wrapped around his cock, and running his thumb over his oozing tip and imagining it as your tongue, if it means his mate can get some well deserved rest.

“Ao’nung, just let me—”

“Shh,” he murmurs, his fingers sliding down to your shoulder, guiding you gently to lie back down so you can finally get sleep. “Close your eyes. You’ve done more than enough for me tonight.”

A part of you wants to push and continue fighting him on the idea of letting him handle his hardened cock alone but the weight of exhaustion finally takes over, your body sinking into the soft mat and you allow your mate to win this time. Ao’nung pulls the blanket over you, his hands lingering to make sure you’re fully covered and comfortable.

As your eyelids grow heavy, you hear him whisper in your ear one last time, his voice low and soothing as he lightly strokes your hair, something he knows helps calm your mind and body. “Sleep, my beautiful mate. You’re all I’ll ever need.” As the words leave his lips he settles beside you, his presence warm and protective as you drift off into a dream state. For now he’s here to make sure your night is peaceful and your sleep is without interruption but later tonight, when you’re hours into your much needed rest, he’ll be in the other room stroking his cock to the thought of your exquisite beauty and gorgeous physique.

Fanbase — @eme1hyst @o-kingston @erenjaegerwifee @Kaydoux @biaaaaaaaa1 @hikotaru @thisaintredwine @lexieeeeeeeei @that-gurl25 @simpingforbelphegor @Peanut713521 @anemonelovesfiction @jakesullyfatjuicypeen @makaylalovessmut @lustforlana4 @Anita @pandoraslxna @iris-xoxo-juhu @domineezy @hc-geralt-23 @ikeyniofthetayrangi @aonungmyaddiction @savagemickey03 @buble787635 @normspellmann @em-x0 @sliqeramx @lexasaurs634 @deadgirlrin @lina @merlinbtch @sussybaka10 @galactict3a @shima @rae @bigdikzaddy @roseblushpink1 @3xclusive_kylani @Bubble787635 @casualmilkshakecupcake @ninaa @atomicslimetoadstudent @shmaptainbonky @moonstidalwaves @jayy-24 @emilymikado

239 notes · View notes