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ghosty-writes-23 · 3 months ago

Note

I've been listening to a band called Ghost on repeat and it has inspired me to request this:

a crack treated seriously oneshot with RE4! Leon and an amateur heavy metal musician! Reader who was Ashley's college roommate and they were also kidnapped.

Reader never leaves without their guitar, often looks for the positive in everything, and knows how to put on a show!

They've written songs based on what they've encountered in their experience in Spain lol

(feel free to delete this ask if you're uncomfortable with writing something like this)

RE4!Leon & Musician!Reader One-shot.

!TAGS!: Pure Fluff, You Mental Health Matters, Flashbacks, Gender Neutral, Nightmares, Comfort, Music.

Word Count: 1k

Ghosty's Notes: Hello, thank you so much for another request I love writing these, sorry if this one is a little short, I tried to but everything in here that you asked for, maybe expect the crack part which I hope you don’t mind and I didn’t know if you wanted romance with Leon or not so I just didn’t add it and tried to make this as Gender neutral as possible.

Thank you for all the support, it means a lot❤️

-Ghosty :] ❤️🦝

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2 Months….

It has been two months since you were kidnapped and taken to Spain by a dangerous cult, where you had gotten infested with a virus they called the las Plagues, watched a man you had started to think of as a friend die before your every eyes.

The only positive to everything was you had your collage roommate with you Ashley Graham, the president’s daughter, but as time went on your started to think you were both doomed, even if you tried to use your humor and positive attitude to distract her from the danger you were both in.

You thought you were never going to get out, that was until you meet Agent Leon Kennedy, he had been sent by Ashley’s father to come and find you both, he was like a guardian angel but you should have known that was only going to be the start of one hellish night of survival, stopping a ritual, killing monsters of all kinds, and a few games at a shooting range that was set up by a merchant that seemed to always follow you around the island, he always welcomed Ashley, Leon and you with a friendly “hello stranger.” Whenever you visited him.

After battling your way through the island with Leon to rescue Ashley from the many times she got kidnapped, to a point it was starting to get on your nerve, you tried to stay positive and when you had a chance to settle you found a little notepad and a pencil and started to drum your fingers on your leg in a soft beat as a song rhythm came to your head as well as some lyrics.

“What you writing there?” Leon asks as he placed the last of the barricade on the door, this should give you some safety for now. “A song?” you say not looking at him as you keep writing, you almost had the whole chorus done.

“You’re a musician?” Leon said with an eyebrow raised, but you could hear the curiosity in his tone. “Amateur one, but a study music theory and instruments at University.” You say before you looked up at him, he nodded his head as he was checking out the area, it was raining heavy and would make it harder to walk in the muddy trails as it would leave footprints.

“Gotta a style you like playing?” Leon asked as he came and sat beside you, glancing at the notepad with your handwriting scribbled onto it. “Heavy mental mostly, but I do sometimes play other gene’s.” you say glancing at him, even with the light conversation you couldn’t help the worrying feeling that had settled into your gut.

“do you think Ashley will be okay.” You asked Leon wanting a serious answer, he took a few seconds as if he was really thinking about his answer before nodding his head. “yes she will be okay, we will save her I promise both of you will get out of here safely.” Leon promised you and it warmed your heart know Leon was going to protect both you and Ashley and get you home safe and sound.

And Leon Kept to his word, both you and Ashley had returned home safe and sound, maybe with a few new scars and cuts, but they could be easily treated in the medical centre, her father came and gave Ashley a huge hug, he always had tears in his eyes seeing his daughter was home in one piece, your parents had come to visit as well and gave you heaps of hugs and kisses, they were just happy to see you were alive and well

But even if you now settled in back in your dorm room, it didn’t stop the nightmares have plagued your mind ever since you had returned home, every time you closed your eyes you had visions of the cult drawings there symbol on your face with blood, the pain that ran though your body when the Las Plagus virus was running through your body, you would wake up in a cold sweat, panting as your clothes stuck to your body.

In moments like this you did the only thing that brought you comfort, you started writing what you were feeling and about your experiences in Spain and in your nightmares, and soon a couple minutes of writing turned into a couple hours of writing song music’s and using your guitar and pulling together a song and in the morning you show Ashley and she loved it and thought you should perform it, to which you thought was a good idea in due time.

You had never performed in front of people, but you knew you could put on a good show, but what a lot of your friends or people didn’t know was you had stage fright and would choke up in front of an audience, which was why you would rather just keep your concerts in the privacy of yours and Ashley’s dorm room.

But after much convincing Ashley finally got you to record a demo of a coupe of your songs, she was so proud of you and encouraged you to make more copies and sell them. To which you told her you would think about it, but deep down you were a little nervous about, But you decided to take the leap and made a small batch and handed them out at your guys Uni.

Ashley even gave Leon a copy to which you felt slightly embarrassed about, but she reassured you he would love it. It wasn’t until a couple weeks later, Ashley was handing you a small note and said it was from Leon, you opened the note, and a smile came onto your face.

I loved the demo, keep it up and one day you will be a great musician. – Leon.

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©Ghosty-writes-23, 2024. all rights reserved. !I DO NOT! consent to translations or replications or reproduction of my work on any other social media platforms and or make AI Bots without my explict consent and permission.

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onlybeeewrites · 2 years ago

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Hi!! I was wondering if you could do another part to the violinist?? I really loved it!!

Hi lovely! Absolutely! I hope you guys all enjoy part 2 :)

The Violinist: Pt 2

Requested: yes :))

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader ???

Warnings: none

Some information/things I made up for the story so don’t be too harsh :)

(I suggest playing this to hear what the reader was playing to be more immersive :))

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Benedict

The Delaney House was a well known home for artists. It was owned by a wealthy contributor to the Royal Academy of The Arts. This house in particular was not residential, however. No, this house was more of a center of the arts within London.

It was open to all people of all status and from all sorts of lives. Men, Women, rich, poorer. Everyone who loved the arts were welcome. There were singers, painters, actors musicians.

There was singing rooms for people like Siena Roso practiced singing sometimes—or to show off that voice of hers. Or similarly, there were large acting rooms where groups of actors or inspiring actors would gather and practice together.

There were music rooms, private and group ones. These held chairs and music stands for those who would bring their own instruments, in the larger rooms pianos were available.

Then there were painting rooms. Small and large alike for group paintings, or more private rooms. This is where Benedict always went to when he could.

This House was an escape for him, to blend and mingle with like minded people to find inspiration. To get honest feedback about his work instead of his family constantly praising him just because. There he had gotten feedback about his work before, genuine feedback about what he could do instead, ways to improve it all.

It was his escape from the pressures of society, where he had seen such talent from people who had to work for each meal every day. Fantastic work from pig farmers, but hey cannot do much since it is not affordable to be an artist when it does not pay well from lower statuses.

The the beauty of it was that, at the Delaney House, you can. Or at least have an escape where people only cared about your abilities and talent; not how rich your family was.

So there was a sense of relief to know no one would see the second eldest Bridgerton and treat him any differently.

It was a Sunday morning when Benedict had decided to visit the Delaney House, his family usually would not question when he would slip out of the house for a few hours.

He entered the front doors and made his way down the long corridor that led to other halls and wings of the building, like a spiderweb of artists. It was early so there were not entirely a lot of people there, though to the ones he had seen he gave a polite nod of his head.

Benedict was making his way towards his usual painting room when he heard something that made him stop in his tracts. It was some sort of violin music? It was not like any formal performance he had attended. The quick sharp, perfect notes filled the hallway to the right, and drifted presently to his ears.

It was never odd for a violinist os such to be here either, though for some reason this music intrigued him. So he took a little detour and followed the sound of the music. He walked further down the hall until he stopped outside one of the smaller practice rooms where the door was just slightly ajar.

Benedict peaked inside and a grin grew on his face as he just recognized the person playing. It was a young woman, in her twenties. As the mysterious player slowly turned, her face was exposed and he realized he had recognized the young women. It was the young woman who he had seen Elouise talking before his family’s Ball just a week or so ago.

It was the young violinist that had instructed himself and his brothers. For some reason, knowing that she had attended the same artistic building as him made his chest swell. It was like a little secret place, that only they knew about. It also told him that she was passionate about her music.

Benedict watched as her fingers moved carefully against the strings to make an array of beautiful notes that was so different that was usually played.

As she came to the finish of the song, Benedict couldn’t help but open the door a bit and speak up.

“Forgive me for interrupting, Miss. But I heard you playing and your melody is truly enchanting,” he praised the stranger, smirking as he watched the girl jump, clearly all lost in the music she created; Benedict knew how that was.

Y/N jumped, quickly turning towards the voice that had startled the silence that filled the room once she had finished playin the song.

“Mr. Bridgerton! You frightened me, I had not heard you approach.” She said as she caught her breath, carefully placing her bow and violin in her case for a moment. Though while she turned to place her instrument down, it gave her a moment to collect herself from his compliments. “And thank you, that is incredibly kind of you to say,” Y/N said before returning her attention back to the second eldest Bridgerton.

Benedict gave her a look, “you know the rules here Miss. Formalities are barred at the doorway to this building,” he playfully teased her, leaning against the door way.

Y/N then raised an eyebrow, “then why do you?” She questioned

Benedict let out a laugh, “Because I am yet to properly know your name,” he hummed, watching as the realization grew over the girl.

Growing ever more flustered she cleared her throat, “Oh forgive me. Y/N Lyndon. A pleasure to…properly meet you,” she said with an added chuckle.

Benedict smirked and bowed his head, “An absolute pleasure Y/N.” He said rather boldly. Y/N. Y/N. It was a beautiful name. The painter only worried if it would ever leave his mind.

“Of course,” Y/N said as she gathered her sheet music placing it away in her bag that held a bunch of other sorts of music. “I am to assume you come here often? I am not surprised with he word of how good you are with your drawings and paints. I think I am just surprised I had yet to see you here before today,” she commented.

Benedict adored the rather casual conversation. It was like a silent agreement that within the walls of the Delaney House that there would be no formalities regardless of who you were. It allowed everyone to be almost on an even playing field.

“Yes I don’t usually come Sundays, often I attend during the week, usually later in the days.” He explained.

Y/N nodded as she closed the case to hr things. “I suppose that makes sense. I am only here Sunday mornings. It is the only time I am free to practice what I wish,” she said with a smile.

Benedict hummed and nodded, “I see. Perhaps I will have to start attending Sunday mornings then,” he said with a grin.

“if that is the case, Benedict, you must come rather early. I come when the sun comes up in the sky. Because…” she glanced to the clock that was handing in the corner. “I must be returning home within the hour.” She said, and she could see Benedict’s grin slowly grow into almost a pout.

“Oh truly? You cannot stay just a little bit longer?” He asked, almost like when a child wishes that their mother would allow them to stay up late.

“Unfortunately not this time. I have family visiting from the country and I have to go get ready. Though perhaps next week you can find me at the Featherington’s Ball on Friday. Or early next Sunday,” she said as she passed him in the doorway, a smirk on her face as she playfully brush against the taller man.

Benedict small pout grew into a smirk at her playfulness and almost minx like behavior. He turned and watched her. “Oh truly you can bet that I shall.” He said. Y/N laughed a bit and gave him a wave over her shoulder before walking down the hallway.

Benedict watched, almost enchanted by ht violinist as she made her way down the hallway and around the corner until she was completely out of sight. Benedict never imagined himself with another artist. But then again, he never knew a violinist could be so enchanting. He knew he would be looking forward to the upcoming ball next week, and he knew exactly who to look for.

#onlybeeewrites #x reader #onlybeewrites #bridgerton imagines #cute imagine #onlybeeeanswers #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #open to all #open requests #requests open #x fem!reader #benedict x reader #Benedict x fem!reader #The Violinist #The Violinist pt 2 #musician!reader #violinist!reader

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not-soup-333 · 2 years ago

Text

I finally have inspiration for some x reader fanfic for Tumblr, so just as a question, would anyone be interested in a Hobie Brown x musician!reader fic? Would have to be a fem!reader fic too because of the idea I have.

#atsv #across the spiderverse #hobie brown #hobie x reader #hobie brown x you #musician!reader #Hobie x musician!reader

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phantomsies · 2 months ago

Text

die for me • a. artlert - kinktober part one

“..once I get inside, you’ll wanna die for me..”

kink: drug play

📝 other themes and things: producer/artist!armin, fem!black reader, drug use (coke use, percs in nether regions, you get my drift), fingering him for .2 seconds, mirror play, choking, oral sex (m. receiving), backshots, heavy kissing, squirting, spit play, pet names, prone bone

wc: 2.2K

📃 foreword: hi lovelies! just wanted to say thank you for allowing me to start fresh and supporting my work/transition throughout all of this. Also, being patient with me bc I’ve been slow as hell about posting again!

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euphoria. It’s a feeling of excitement that manifests in different forms..a sensation achieved by the best experiences. Some get there by taking substances, others through thrill seeking. And for Armin Artlert?

“Oh God…yeah, that’s it, beautiful. All the way down…”

it was the fulfillment of his carnal desires…a constant high he’d chase with liquor or whatever narcotic he was choosing to divulge in for the evening. Just one of his many, less than savory vices. He knew it wasn’t a lifestyle he could maintain forever..and hell, it may even catch up to him sooner rather than when he’d like. But for now, he was enjoying the chaotic ride and every bump it had to offer along the way.

“Ahh!—fuck…good girl. Now hold it..I know you can do it, baby. Just take that dick to the back of your throat f’r me..all the way.”

it was an evening like the many others (y/n) (l/n) spent in the company of the famed producer and notorious bachelor. You’d spent the entirety of your day seated in a high chair as makeup brushes patted your gorgeous face. That delicate crown filled with luscious, kinky curls sat atop your head and was styled for a photoshoot. It was in the midst of a break that you’d return to your dressing room, greeted by a dozen roses..along with the charming smile of your beau. He was adamant on the fact that he despised interrupting your work but he truly couldn’t help but to sneak in some quality time with you. It was widely out of character for him and quite frankly, hell had a better chance of freezing twice over than Armin being monotonous! However, you’d invoked quite the change in him and it was so obvious, it was almost laughable. He’d inform you that he wanted you to finish up your job without pause but tonight, he’d be coming to scoop you up and he wanted you all to his lonesome.

fast forward, and that plan became reality. Now here you were..being all but defiled on his bedroom floor as you sat with your thighs slightly spread and upright on your knees. Saliva had pooled and trickled down from your mouth to those plump breasts he adored. Your pretty face practically smeared with spit and his precum. A beautiful, delicious mess, all of his creation and he loved it.

“Here, open your mouth, beautiful.” “Mmmm..thank you...”

With that, he greeted you with another lob of spit whilst gently tugging your head back. That’s when you’d begin to devour that thick cock whole..from the base to the tip with little resistance. Swallowing every inch and allowing him to hollow out your throat as if it were nothing. It was no unbeknownst secret to him that you were pretty damn freaky of your own volition. Hell, there were instances that you’d made him tap out but you were on an entirely different wavelength at the moment. You were practically insatiable and Armin was enjoying every waking second of it! A grin would stretch from ear to ear on the producer’s face when you’d take his shaft into your palm and stroke it. Meanwhile, your lips suctioned around those swollen balls, alternating between them to place gentle kisses and licks along the veined perimeter.

“You’re such a good slut for me, baby. Oh my gosh, I love you..you’re going to make me come so hard, I swear..” his tone was almost desperate and whiny as you continued on. But perhaps, the best was yet to happen when he felt a foreign sensation emit throughout his body. Those gorgeous brown eyes had become dilated and you were practically unstoppable.

“Am I making you feel good, daddy? Like when I spit on this fucking dick for you?”

“Yes, sweetheart. You’re doing fucking amazing. Make sure you get all that precum too..”

So much so, that your head would completely lower onto his shaft, taking the entire thing down your throat and holding it in place with minimal gagging. You’d stay there for a few seconds longer before coming up and emitting heavy strings of saliva with you. Once you did so, strings of your bodily fluids would seep down his pelvis and once it did, you’d use that makeshift lubricant to tease his other entrance.

“Fuuuck! Baby… ‘S so good..swear I should marry you right now.”

Nearly reducing him to a babbling mess. Constantly doting on you as you awoke all of his carnal desires. Exploring and opening his eyes to things he’d never experienced. He’d had his fair share of sexual encounters but there wasn’t one girl who’d ever pushed the boundaries the way you had. He had fallen in love all over again at that moment. One could even chock it up the heightened sensitivity you gained when taking drugs. It were almost as if both of you were in another reality and completely out of your heads. He’d even sniffle a few times, wiping his nose from the powdery substance he’d consumed earlier. You on the other hand, had been given a pink tablet that had melted on your tongue and since, (y/n) had lost all sense of morality and self control. The only thing on your mind was fucking him until he passed out and vice versa.

What was even more attractive was that you hadn't stopped moaning around his shaft and stroking your clit since you’d been down there. Becoming increasingly more aroused and soon, you’d need something to fill that ache in your womb. Fingering yourself hadn’t been quite sufficient, despite your orgasm already. With a deviant grin on your face, you’d begin to giggle and lob more saliva around the entire area; even making slurping motions on his that sensitive sack.

“Yeah? I’ll really let you do whatever you want to me then.” Ironic considering that you had already surpassed limits that other girls wouldn’t dare. That’s when he’d lean forward and place a deep kiss onto your lips, shoving his tongue into your mouth and clutched your throat in the process.

“That’s very..very good to know. Here, do me a favor and crawl over to the mirror, sweetheart. I’ve gotten something for you.”

suddenly, you were on all fours..swaying your hips as you followed his instructions. Like a lynx in the wild who couldn’t be tamed. His view was consumed with that round, plump ass and those fat pussy lips in the back and it was enough to make his cock twitch once more. Coated in precum and spit, Armin stroked himself, bucking his hips up into his palm before joining you on the floor. His knees were grazed by the furry carpet whilst he mounted behind you. The giant reflective glass perfectly captured both of your expressions in that moment. Grinning from ear to ear, completely dazed but certainly not confused. You both knew exactly what you wanted. Those pupils had become dilated and the surrounding areas bloodshot…

“Look at you..so perfect. You have no idea how beautiful you are, baby…” it was whilst he was talking, the desperate blonde reached over and retrieved another small baggy from the bed. It was just one of many substances he’d procured for the evening. Affectionately dubbing them his ‘party favors’. He’d usher you to back up against him as he maneuvered so that he was somewhat positioned underneath you. With your thighs spread to the opposite side of his own and that ass placed atop his crotch, Armin would place a hand into the center of your back to ensure that it was slightly arched.

“There we go, sweetheart…keep it just like that.”

Meanwhile, he’d run a singular thumb between your wet folds and that puckering asshole. All of it was so perfectly on display for him. Sucking his teeth, the famed producer would go on to extract the pill from the baggy before teasing it against that other entrance. It took a moment for you to get acclimated but it didn’t take long for the sensation to kick in. That puckering hole accepted it with ease and immediately began to take effect. Strings of your arousal were already leaking but once he inserted that tiny tablet, you were practically insatiable. That dazed expression on your pretty face became all but a permanent fixture…drool seeped from the corner of your mouth and your pupils remained glossed over.

“G-aghhh…I love it..makes me so fucking wet..”

Armin, becoming ecstatic at the sheer sight alone uttered a laugh as he navigated your hips until that dripping cunt was positioned right above the aching tip of his cock. “Yeah, you always did like these…I swear you’re the only person who would let me do some shit like this.” “Well you’re the only man I’ve met, willing to do it..so I guess it works out.” The two of you exchanged another set of laughs before the real action began.

“Can I put it in now, angel?..”

“I’d be pissed if you made me wait any longer..”

“Somebody’s eager..that’s my girl. Now stay still.”

foaming both at the mouth and entrance to be stuffed full of him, (y/n) would take a glance back and await his next move. Suddenly, you’d find yourself releasing a loud moan and arching your back even further as that swollen tip penetrated your hole. The initial feeling was like none you had ever experienced..it always was as if it were the first time with Armin. Hell, that’s just how amazing the sex was. But it was something about those substances coursing your veins and adding fuel to the fire that hit differently. In a matter of seconds, you were both trembling but could not stop. Slowly but surely, he’d feed you deep yet rhythmic strokes, trying to maintain his composure.

“Oh my gosh…look at how wet you are already, sweetheart. This pussy’s so creamy.”

Just as you were beginning to become acclimated with those strokes, Armin would increase his speed and begin to feed you more rhythmic thrusts. His hips snapping against your backside as he dug his nails into your flesh. The collision of that thick ass made it all but impossible for him to maintain his composure.

“Mmmmph..that dick feels so good..so deep in me..”

“Yeah? I’m not even in your spot yet and you’re already dripping. Might have to feed you some of this shit more often, baby.”

the soft whine escaping your lips as your head tilted back and it allowed him the opportunity to coil his hands around your throat. It was then that you were met with a slight hinge of aggression. Not in a violent or mean way but it was stemming from the fact that he was overstimulated. Those drugs were coursing through your systems at rapid speed so any sensation you felt was increased tenfold. Every thrust, every thrash, every touch and every glide in and out of those wet folds were driving him crazy! The same applies to you..every stroke became far more intense than the last and that ball of climatic energy began to swell in the pit of your stomach, ready to burst at any second. Strings of dripping warmth began to stain his exposed thigh and the carpet underneath your clashing bodies. Before long, those minimal droplets would expand to a large puddle as he caught a glimpse of your face in that mirror…you’d watch your own reflection as your body jolted around and suddenly your eyes were at the back of your head.

“Shit! I’m fucking coming!..”

“Theeeere we go, sweetheart. Squirt on that fucking dick..good girl.”

Whilst you released a heavy stream of warm juices, Armin would keep a light grasp on your hips as he allowed you to ride out your orgasm. Those sweet moans and shrill cries pooled out along with those divine droplets of your bodily nectar. It wasn’t long before you’d find yourself writhing around underneath his entire body weight though…as he had maneuvered you into a prone bone position shortly after. Pinning those wrists behind your back, Armin would then plank himself atop of your trembling frame; bucking those hips against the rippling flesh of your ass. The sight of that recoil alone was enough to make him reach his own peak. But alas, he’d maintain his stride a little bit longer. After all, neither of you had any plans of quitting any time soon…the adrenaline of the moment and the influence of those substances were keeping you both amplified beyond what should have been normal human capacity. But perhaps, the strongest one of all flowing throughout your veins was pure, unadulterated lust!..an insatiable desire for one another that couldn’t be kicked with the strongest of rehabilitation. It was a night that had only reached its beginning stages and who knew what lay in wait next…

“I’m gonna play in all these pretty holes, baby…I don’t give a fuck how long it takes. Not gonna stop until we pass out..you know how I like it.”

and it was a venture that you were looking more than forward to!

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suiana · 3 months ago

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The death of an artist

he's always found you beautiful, even in your death and rebirth. you'll always be perfect to him. always

(yandere! musician x gn! reader) (cw: yandere stuff idk, im wiritng this while shitting i hope u enjoy my poopoo core, 2.04k words)

you might not have realised it but your silent admirer had always watched you.

he's watched you from the shadows, observing how you interact with others, how your eyes were once full of light and joy as you shared your paintings for the world to see.

it was beautiful.

you were beautiful.

he was but an aspiring musician back then. a couple of listeners here and there but never enough to fill up a concert hall. meanwhile you were a famous artist, with your paintings selling out for millions at all the art exhibitions you hosted.

you little admirer totally idolized you.

i mean, who wouldn't? all your paintings were so full of life, oh so meaningful, and most importantly, they were made with love.

love, love, love.

it was the one thing that made you stand out from all the hundreds and thousands of artists. the one thing that inspired him to even start writing songs.

your art made him feel loved. it made him feel wanted, even. he remembers how he'd get a fuzzy feeling from all your paintings, how it sent a delightful tingle up his spine as he takes in your carefully crafted masterpieces.

though there weren't any texts, all of your paintings spoke a thousand words. and they spoke to him.

with every new piece you put out, it was like he was getting to know you better. to know you on a personal level. it made his head spin and his heart leap in delight. after all, you were his idol. the one he admired so much that he began to pursue a music career dedicated to you. the career he once left behind in favour of living in this sad world.

though at one point in time, he hit a wall.

he couldn't get any ideas, no fresh inspiration for his music. the musician could only stare at his score as his mind desperately grasps at nothing. he felt like he was dying.

then you came through, like an angel of salvation.

well, looking back, you were more like a demon of salvation. especially because that one single text from you kick-started his disgusting love for you. it feels wrong to call you a demon though, not when you were so holy that he feels like touching you will corrupt your divine light.

he still remembers waking up and seeing your text on his instagram DMs. your bright red notification ping that gave him all the motivation he needed to think of a new idea.

'hey! just wanted to tell u i really enjoy ur music! cant wait to see u get famous >w<'

he swears he could die happy just seeing you message him. you messaged him. you know of his existence??? no fucking way bro. he still wonders if he used up all his luck when you messaged him so innocently that day.

of course... he responded and thus began a friendship (?) between the two of you.

friendship. yeah, maybe for you.

truth be told, he doesn't know if he ever saw you as a friend to begin with. he always thought you messaged him because you were interested in him too. whatever, these small details aren't important.

he released a love song not long after your first interaction with him. it instantly became a viral hit, taking his follower count from the thousands to the millions. he was glad it performed so well on the charts, they were his feelings to you after all.

the now famous musician had to thank you for getting him out of his rut. without you, he'd probably have gone back to doing medicine. so he did the best thing and that was to invite you out for a meal. he had to thank his muse, didn't he?

you were a little hesitant at first. that's okay, if anything he thought it was cute that you were suspicious of him. there will be plenty of time for you to warm up to him later.

the little get-together, or first date as he likes to call it, went well! you two saw each other in real life for the first time! and boy was he smitten. if he was unsure about whether he was in love with you before, he sure as hell was sure now.

you were so much more lovely in real life than you were over text. all smiles and laughs, your admirer feels that his songs didn't do you justice.

"this was fun! let's do this again!"

oh for sure he will do it again. he just wants you all to himself now. to keep you with him, a never-ending source of inspiration for the rest of his life. his beloved muse. the one he writes for. the one his songs are dedicated to. his.

so your falling off played out nicely in his favour. you were trying out an experimental style, said that he inspired you. it was one that not many would be able to understand at first glance, completely different from what your previous one was. your loyal fans stood by your side of course, him included. but the general public eventually started ignoring your newer pieces in favour for something they didn't need to use much thought to understand. for someone fresh, someone new.

he could see the way the light in your eyes slowly started to dim at the lack of interaction. sure, you said that fame wasn't important to you, that all you wanted was to showcase your art to the world.

but your little admirer could tell that it was bothering you more than you'd like to admit.

he saw the way your texts with him grew more erratic, the way the vibrant life in your eyes started to slowly dim, the way you started pushing out more works to compensate for the style change. you were desperate for the attention you once received. the way you changed in real time, becoming a slave to the consumers, like an animated robot that pushed out art just for the sake of it...

it was a little sad to see to be honest. it was like you were there, but you also weren't, you know? your name was on the artwork but he didn't see you in it.

but he was glad things turned out the way it did. it meant that he could be there for you when you cried and felt like a mistake. it meant that he could offer you a shoulder to cry on when the times were really bad.

"there there, it's alright. just let it all out."

his gentle caresses as you cried your heart out into his chest... it was delightful to see you depend on him so much. that you'd come seeking comfort from him in such a dark period of your life. he felt so wanted by you.

meanwhile, his fame was only growing larger by the day. while you were on a path to being forgotten, he was making a name for himself in the music industry. brand deals, billboards, advertisements. he was everywhere, like a ghost haunting you, to remind you that your friend was thriving while you weren't.

the musician wonders whether you've ever hated him. that you'd think he was stealing all of your fame. after all, your fame went down not long after you messaged him. he really wonders whether you've ever blamed him for making a change in your art style.

it doesn't matter now.

the artist in you was gone.

"hey, what if you make me an album cover?"

you only stared at him with dark eyes before looking away. everyone around you had slowly started distancing themselves from you. the change in your personality and looks had scared them. everyone but him had stayed. his words about horrid snakes deceiving you fill your head as you cling to the attention he gave you. who were you to deny your only friend left?

"sure."

you didn't give much thought when designing his new album. it was an avant garde album that had themes about desperation, love, and death.

how ironic, you thought.

you gave the complete piece to him a few days after, heavy bags under your eyes as your friend hugged and kissed your cheek. he's been taking care of you recently. having you move in with him, cooking you food and covering all of your expenses. he treated you like a lover. albeit you found it a bit weird that he told you not to leave without his consent. said that he didn't want people to harass you. you found it sweet of him. you were glad that he cared for you so much.

"my dear artist friend designed my new album cover, yes. i think they were a perfect fit to help design this particular album cover. they're..."

your fame immediately came back. interviews, likes, commissions, the things you were once familiar with came running back at full force after your friend's interview with a big channel.

you think if this happened earlier you'd have caved under the attention. the big spotlight, fans.... the attention will always be intoxicating. even now, you feel yourself smiling at the number of notifications you're receiving from strangers.

but you've realized that their attention is only temporary. the second you grow irrelevant they'll drop you again. just like they did before.

the only one who matters is your friend. the one who whispered sweet nothings and reassured you when you were drowning in a mass of nothingness. the one who gave you the attention you craved.

you immediately started a new piece in a new style.

'Intertwined'

a painting that gave you more fame than what you initially had before. it was a piece about self enlightenment, discovery, and contentment. and some claimed that it was the best painting that you've ever made. a masterpiece.

you showed your friend your work right after you were done and you could've sworn you saw a hint of shock in his eyes. maybe also fear? you don't know.

"this is... beautiful."

his words were slow, gaze intense as he stared at your painting for what felt like hours. you think he was mesmerized. you never asked him.

you made another painting after that.

'final duet'

again, people claimed that it was a masterpiece. your friend looked stunned again and he called it beautiful like always. he told you that he's never seen something so artistically perfect before and that he's proud of you. you like it. his compliments make you happy.

"this one is for you."

you made another piece. a simple painting of him in your style.

'untitled.jpg'

"is... it mine now?"

he proceeded to draw you into the painting as well after your words. you didn't understand what he was doing. but you found it cute. he was drawing you?

"there. now it's perfect."

he smiles down at you before pressing a kiss to your forehead like he always does. you've grown so used to his kisses that you were expecting one already. you lean into his touch before smiling softly.

"i'm so happy with you."

"me too."

the seed of life was sprouting once more, growing around the stem that it's learnt to grow dependent on.

he was everything to you. you feel like you'd die without him. but you know it'll never happen because your dearest friend will always remain by your side. he promised you. his words are like gold. he's the only one who matters.

you never want to be apart ever again.

thus you made your final masterpiece about love and dedication. a flower thriving in a dark environment and growing to love the dark, having died in the shining light once before.

'rebirth'

the blinds to the outside world shut on the two of you. no one else is important. he tells you he loves you. you repeat it. his hands wrap around you as you lean into his cold touch. you're cold too. you used to be warm once, he says he likes you cold better. shutting your eyes, all you focus on is the steady beating of his heart.

now no one will ever bother the two lovers ever again.

#yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere concepts #yandere musician #yandere musician x reader #gn reader #suiana rambling #suiana brainrotting

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vellichor-of-the-solivagant · 1 year ago

Text

With Them, Who Swallowed a Star

PAIRING: Professor!Task Force 141 X F!Student!Reader WORD COUNT 5.3k CONTENT WARNING: NSFW! group sex, age gap, fingering, cunnilingus, oral sex, handjobs, facefucking/blowjobs, unprotected sex, p in v, anal sex, slight usage of nicknames, reader is a pianist/student, tf141 are professors, smut with plot SYNOPSIS: A musician is a storyteller in their own ways. You had told yours and captured the sights of men you never expected to pull when you stepped inside an academy. AUTHOR'S NOTE: I tried to be poetic. This fried my brain and I'm not going to write something like this again. That's a lie because I have a series that has 5 love interests. This one was supposed to have Graves as well since he's actually my inspiration for writing this shit, but I ended up not adding him. I might do it on Drabbles if someone asks though. And yes, I have changed my username from DontFearTheReaperAzura. Here's the Masterlist for more! Also on Archive of Our Own / DISCORD SERVER

Your fingers fluttered slightly as you lifted your hands to the keys, blocking out the rustling from others as they sat in the grand auditorium. Long and drawn, you began to tell a tale you had held for a long time. Notes swam in the air, old friends that played with your tresses and caressed your skin.

The story started slowly, the sound of the beginning, the beginning of the end. Longing clashed with trepidation, your fingers sang a song of despair. You swayed with the music, lost in the whims of unspoken words—of a world you owned. Quicker and quicker, the notes climbed in sync with your heart, growing joyful in hopes of masking the mournful melody surrounding you.

It filled the emptiness deep within your chest for a moment, before like the heavens shed tears upon a barren land, you showed—you poured out the lore of your world, and with heavy reluctance to leave what you created, you played the last few notes.

For a few moments, you kept your eyes closed, and when a series of claps reached your ears, only then you opened them. You were shackled back to reality just as you held back your work.

You looked at the people, who in your eyes were nothing but shadows at the beginning, now enamored, yearning for the rest. You knew they felt it, too. Pulled, as though you were the center of the system. Like the Sun, a star.

And one man stuck out more than others, gazing at you, blue eyes almost ravenous. But it didn’t last for long, just like a song in the wind, he faded among the standing crowd, drowned out in the flurry of praise.

You breathed out a sigh as you stared at the towering structure before you, now your second hell—in replacement of the ramshackle place you call home—after you had gotten a scholarship to this prestigious university after years of a couple of years of working your ass off. Students rushed past you on their way in and out of their classes, but you stood frozen.

Suddenly you felt awfully unprepared for this unfamiliar place, of socializing and strangers, and of university. Of life. What did Google say about socializing with people your age again? How about impressing a professor? Good lord.

You shrugged off your thoughts and sauntered to your class. A large lecture hall welcomed your sight and you found an empty seat at the front row. Not the perfect place for observation of the whole place, but good for listening to the professor.

The sound of expensive shoes echoed throughout the hushed room and you kept your eyes down as you took out your notebook and pen. As the quiet dragged on, you glanced at the professor and found your brows raising at his sight.

He was tall, seemed to be fit, and in his thirties. He had a few wrinkles, a beard, and brown hair, but no sign of graying.

Above all, you could remember those eyes. An endless swirl of blue. The man at the concert hall.

You put your gaze down as the professor looked down on you, your heart hammered against your ribs, sudden nervousness springing in your nerves. You wished he wouldn’t recognize you, but at the same time, you hoped he did.

Yet, the silence remained, and in curiosity, you looked back up. Your breath hitched as your eyes met his, gaze shining with something you couldn’t decipher, and a smile formed on his lips.

You forced yourself to mirror it and batted a glance at the door. You wanted to get out.

The professor introduced himself as Jonathan Price, and told the class a few things about himself, before diving straight into the first lesson of Philosophy.

Time seemed to flow fast throughout his class and you kept your fingers busy, writing down his words. He was easy to understand, bringing out intricate details in his lesson, and asked questions now and then if he was going too fast while walking around the room.

You couldn’t help but notice his slacks fit in a certain area. Then again, that thing wouldn’t give you a brain cell even if you suck it off.

The bell chimed and you gathered and stuffed your notebook and pen inside your bag, jolting up to your feet. But as you approached the exit, his canorous voice called out to you.

“Pardon me, young lady.”

You turned to face the professor, keeping a respectable distance from him, which he closed off, only standing a couple of feet from you.

“Yes, sir?” You asked in a small voice when he remained silent, his eyes studying you with disconcerting intensity, just like how he gazed at you at your performance.

Finally, after an uncomfortable silence, he asked. “What’s your name?”

You spoke of your name in a steady voice, equally confused and intimidated, you gripped on the strap of your bag. Everyone had already left, now bringing quietness to the hall.

He smiled once again, his head tilting a bit to the side. “A pretty name.” His voice sent goosebumps on your skin, making you breathe in deeply, inhaling the scent of his pleasant cologne. “Such a shame I couldn’t catch it after your performance a couple of weeks ago.”

He remembered you.

Your cheeks began to burn.

Oh, how he yearned to caress your tinted cheeks, place a kiss on them, and mutter praise against your soft skin.

“Ah, you were there, weren’t you, sir?” You offered him a smile and a pause. “I think I caught a glance of you in the front rows.”

“Correct.”

“Thank you for watching, sir,” you said, not knowing what to speak of next, and nodded at him, reaching out to the knob to leave. But he reached for the door, making you blink at his unexpected actions, caged between the door and him.

“I couldn’t take my eyes off of you,” he fessed, bodies now closer to yours that you almost touched, and you gulped. “You were magnificent.” He opened the door, a hand motioning at you. “See you on Wednesday. And I hope we see more of your performance.”

We?

You jolted awake at the loud laughter of a raucous group outside of your room and grunted at the sudden pang of pain in your head when you stood up. You glanced at the alarm clock by your bedside and muttered a crisp curse, hauling your bag. You burst out of your room, slipping past students in the hallway like a breeze, hurried apologies were called out to those poor victims she bumped into.

The morning had been long and tiring, and you decided to take a nap earlier, only to end up sleeping for a couple of hours. Now, you were about to get late for your next class, and the usual ten-minute walk turned into a five-minute run and an uncalled exercise.

You glanced from left to right in the hallway, glancing at your phone to make sure you were in the right building, and turned to the right, following the signs. You halted before a room, strangely closed even though the class was supposed to start in five minutes.

You used your phone as a mirror and patted down your hair, before turning the knob and opening the door. You walked into a softly lit room and realized the mistake you had made as you spotted a man splayed down on a couch across the room. A hand behind his head and over his stomach, and over the lower half of his face was a black mask.

Inside was a personal office, belonging to one of the professors.

You immediately turned away, about to exit the room when an angry voice echoed.

“Have you got no manners?” The man rose to sit, a scowl painted on his face.

For the nth time in your sorry life, you wanted to bury yourself alive. You dipped your head low in embarrassment. “I’m very sorry, sir. I thought this was the room my class was in. I didn’t mean to intrude.” You frantically fumbled on your phone, inputting the wrong password one time, and read your schedule.

You read the room number wrong.

Brilliant. Bloody brilliant.

The professor fixed his crooked mask. “What class were you supposed to go to?”

“Uh, a math class of Mr. Simon Riley,” you read on your phone, keeping your head low.

A hum escaped past the man’s lips, making you glance up at him. His dark blond hair slightly ruffled from his apparent nap and coat a bit crooked. He ran his hand on his hair, fixed his coat, and patted down the invisible wrinkles on the fabric.

He stood up and you inched back, surprised at his stature. A tall man with broad shoulders and arms noticeably strong, (massive honkers) and eyes like a pool of honey, swirling like molten gold under the light.

“You’re in luck, sweetheart. I’m Simon Riley. You’re in my office, our class is in the next room.” Unlike earlier, his cold voice had turned a bit softer, but the fact that he was your professor made your sweat run cold.

You nodded, inwardly wincing at your dumbass. “Again, I apologize, sir.”

He stood before you, next to the opened door. Gladly, there were no students passing by in the hallway.

“What is your name, love?” he questioned, his hands going to his pockets. His eyes narrowed at the way your head dipped, refusing to meet his gaze. Like a meek little bunny, scared of the world and what all those pretty eyes could see.

He wanted to place a finger under your chin and lift your face up to look at him.

You never knew introducing yourself could feel like an interrogation until now. You told him your name, averting your gaze down at his shoes that shifted slightly. “Nice to meet you, Sir Riley. I’m sorry it wasn’t under the best circumstances.”

He hummed once again and stepped out of the office. “Pleasure’s all mine."

You followed him out of the room and he swiftly closed the door behind you, his being a bit closer to you than comfort.

With a nod, Professor Riley led you to the classroom. Dozens of students had already occupied the room and you silently made your way to a vacant seat on the second row, placing your bag next to you.

Just like Mr. Price, the masked professor went straight to the point, briefly introducing himself to the crowd, and began his lesson. He, too, was easy to understand, repeating the equations some couldn't get well, and was kind enough to let the class take a few minutes of break, before continuing. You had also come to notice he would fix his mask every once in a short while.

And when the bell chimed, he bid his students goodbye, yet called for your name. You halted on gathering your things as he approached you. His eyes glanced at the students who last left the room before he spoke.

"Feel free to come by my office whenever you have a question or need anything. Can't have you lose your way again, do we?" He asked, a bit of amusement in his voice as he leaned close.

You smiled at his offer. "Thank you, sir."

Sure as shooting, you asked him where your next room was for Chemistry. By good fortune, he knew where it was and who the professor would be.

"Ah, there he is." Sir Riley abruptly came to a stop, making you halt in your tracks as well and follow the direction of his gaze, to see a man with a mohawk.

"Simon!" The man jogged towards the two of you, a grin playing on his lips in contrast to the man who never took off his mask. Another person with blue optics, but his were bluer as though someone took a piece of the briny deep and placed it in his optics.

He kept a smile as his attention swept to you. "And who's the little bird?"

You frowned a bit at the nickname, nonetheless gave him your name, and watched his eyes light up with fascination. The man began to tell the pull he felt by the notes of your music, how enamored he was by the unspoken words of your tale.

He was there, too and Sir Riley was along with them.

Your face flushed as he ranted and they both noticed, taking note of the shades painted on your skin, bashful of the sudden recognition.

"He is John Mactavish, your Chemistry professor," Sir Riley piped in, placing a hand on the other man's shoulder, before bidding his farewell at the moment, marching down to his next class.

Left all alone with Professor Mactavish, you turned to him. He grinned at you and he beckoned at you to follow him. The man was, well, talkative and wasted not a second expressing his applause of your performance and how he never expected to see you in the university.

You could only mutter small words and nod, already feeling exhausted. But it was pleasant to hear him compliment you. You could get used to it.

And you could get used to his enthusiasm for teaching. His first lesson went straight to an experiment and dragged you to his side as his assistant, instructing you to mix chemicals. Occasionally, his fingers brushed over yours as you passed vials.

Your eyes met, and sparks flew all around.

Literal spark.

And fire.

Professor Mactavish pulled you to the side, hand remaining on your arm as the chemicals were set ablaze.

With a couple of ticks of the clock, a giggle erupted from your lips and like there was a pull, his chuckles followed.

In the sea of awes, his laughter floated on the surface.

You sprinted on the hall, navigating through the winding routes of the structures, and arrived at one of the most exquisite auditoriums you had ever set eyes on. Your eyes took in the magnificent chandeliers and the divine paintings stretched across the ceiling.

The sound of a throat clearing pulled you from your stupor.

“Are you just going to stand there?” a voice called for your attention to where he stood near the stage. The man basked in the warm glow of the concert hall, skin as though molten caramel, and eyes like embers.

“Oh, forgive me, sir.” You straightened yourself up like a soldier before a superior. “I was just, well, this place is beautiful.” You couldn’t help but glance around once again.

“Isn’t it?” A soft smile crawled its way to his lips and he approached you. “I am Mr. Garrick and you are . . .” your name rolled out of his tongue like a serenade, gentle to the ears, a sight to see the way his lips moved, and he extended a hand to you.

You clasped it gently before realization dawned on you. “Pardon me, Garrick as in the Kyle Garrick?”

In a flash of a moment, something sparkled in his eyes and searched yours. “Yes, it is me.”

You nearly squealed and ran around the room in excitement. “Oh my God. Wow. I-I’m a huge fan, sir. You were such a huge inspiration to me—and, and, I wished I could have watched your performance at the concert before, but I was busy preparing for mine. Oh, that must be why Mr. Price, Mr. Riley, and Mr. MacTavish were there! You are friends!” Your words tumbled out of delight.

"Yes, well, thank you for the kind words." His hand sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, his smile becoming wider.

You gazed at him for a few moments before you snapped out of it, your brain slapping it to your face that you just rambled in front of this gentleman. "I'm very sorry, that was unprofessional of me."

"No need for apologies. But I do want to get a feel of your play today as soon as possible." A hand landed on your back, his warmth slipping through the fabric as he led you towards the grand piano patiently waiting for you at the stage.

Your fingers itched in anticipation.

Sir Garrick gave you a comforting smile and sat on the front row seat. "Feel free to play whatever your heart desires."

What your heart desires.

With a shaky breath, once again, you began to tell a tale, the notes sounding like a human voice as it wove its sonorous song.

A ballad to tie what dream your heart made. An andante at first and increased tempo at each heartbeat.

Lightning striking and thunder howling, Kyle was consumed with the way you swayed from one note to another. He couldn't peel his eyes off you as though you had him in your grasp, a puppet for you to control. And only when the last of the music hung in the air, could he snap free of the strings.

He walked towards you and dropped to his knee, taking one of your hands in his palm. "You were truly astonishing."

"I'm telling you, she was marvelous," Kyle exclaimed, pacing around Price's office and pointing at his fellow professors. "Blimey, if only you guys were there the other day, you'd feel chills."

Simon kept a straight face as he sat on the couch, legs spread, his knees bumping with Johnny who took a seat beside him, sipping from his mug of coffee. Whilst, Jonathan inclined on his chair behind a mahogany desk, decorated with intricate carvings and souvenirs he had gathered as they traveled across continents.

"I get that you're delighted, but could you quiet down?" Price grumbled on his desk, a pang of pain shooting his head.

"No, I am not shutting up." Kyle raised a hand, shaking his head. "She recognized my name. My name.” He pointed at himself.

“Anyone would recognize your name if they’re yer fan or hater,” Johnny quipped and placed the mug down on the coffee table.

Kyle turned to him. “You don’t get it, mate. She said she’s a fan of mine. I was a huge inspiration to her—”

“Was a huge inspiration to her,” Simon echoed, leaning back against the couch. “Used to be, not anymore.”

Kyle glared and stomped towards the masked man, grabbing his collar when the other merely raised his brows in a challenge. “I swear to God, Simon, I swear to—”

“I swear to God if you three don’t shut the fuck up—” Price paused, straightening himself from his chair as Kyle shook Simon, and glared at them— “I’ll have you asinine blokes chopped into bits!”

Kyle let go of Simon, who simply fixed his crooked collar and tie, and raised a brow at the man behind the desk. He sat down on a vacant chair, his eyes not leaving Price, and asked, “Are you jealous she recognized me, Price?” he was answered with another glare, which he shrugged at. “Or not.” He definitely is.

For a few moments, they sat in silence, each lost in their train of thought. All centered on a certain lady, whom they had watched from afar, now within their grasp. They only acted as though it was their first time meeting you.

Each born to a wealthy family, presented interesting things which soon died down as they broke them down into pieces, they had grown bored. And had found that there were only a few they could put their trust in this world. Though not related by blood, they shared everything since they were younger. They knew one another strengths and weaknesses. Their faults. Their passions.

Their desires.

A knock pulled them out of their reveries.

Johnny being the closest to the door, got up and opened it. A smile was brought to his face as he found you. “Hello, bonnie. C’mon in.” He swung the door open, a hand motioning at you.

You hesitantly stepped in as you saw your professors inside the office, eyes all settled on you. You put a hand on your other arm to hold down your nervousness as the door behind you shut.

Four men who were strangely overly friendly to you. You could think of a couple of reasons. The first being a musician they had watched and the second, being their student.

A hand landed on the small of your back, guiding you further in, making your face flush. “Have a seat,” Sir MacTavish waved a hand at the sofa, where he and Simon sat.

You kept your gaze low as you obeyed him, sitting between him and your math professor, red cheeks going in a deeper shade as you met Kyle’s gaze. Embarrassed, you finally faced Price, and asked, “What is it that you called me for, Professor?”

Price put his elbows over his desk and intertwined his fingers. “We have a proposition for you . . .” Your name rolled sensually out of his tongue.

The proposition was to be their assistant. Given their overlapping schedules these days, it was hard for them to handle them. At first, you refused the offer, telling them you had a part-time job to do, along with practicing your skills in piano. But they had already thought about that and said they could pay you for your work.

A tempting proposal. Perfect for a student like you who got into this prestigious school through a scholarship.

You tapped your pen on the table and heaved a sound sigh, slouching on the chair. You were in a cafe near the school, in an attempt to change the atmosphere and help you write a report for Sir MacTavish's and Sir Price’s classes, but it didn’t seem to be helping at the moment. A pleasant music came from your earphones to block out the background noises and you closed your eyes to lull yourself.

When you opened your eyes, you jolted up your seat. “Shit!” your hands immediately flew to your potty mouth and straightened your spine at the sight of one of your professors, Simon, across the table. “Ah, uh, I’m very sorry, sir. I didn’t notice you—”

“Why do you apologize so often?” his rough voice was low and he placed a cup of tea on the table. His eyes landed on your notebook, full of notes, written clean as though it was printed.

You pursed your lips, unable to think of an answer, and ran your tongue over the soft flesh, catching Simon’s attention. “I . . .”

Simon glanced around the empty cafe, the only other person within the area was the staff over the counter, who kept her eyes on her phone. And you had perfectly picked a secluded spot. He looked back at you and reached out a hand, placing it under your chin. He lifted your face to bring your eyes to his.

Your heart raced at his actions.

“An angel as brilliant as you are should carry yourself with confidence, sweetheart.” His thumb caressed your lips. “Perhaps, we could teach you that.”

Your lips parted at his touch, warmth pooling at your stomach. You knew this was strange—wrong, and yet you didn’t want him to stop.

But he let go and leaned back, and you found yourself gripping on your thigh. “Have you thought of our proposal last week?”

You nodded, clearing your throat. “I have, sir.”

“What do you say?”

“The offer is good, and I don’t think it will clash with my schedule under normal circumstances, either.” You paused, letting him wait for your answer as you gazed into his caramel eyes. “I’ll take it, professor.”

You were fond of puzzles. You were interested in mysteries. And you were drawn to danger.

Being their assistant had more perks than you initially thought it was. You talked with them about their terms and added some of yours, and they seemed to be pretty considerate about it.

Maybe, a bit too much.

You had moved to an apartment they got you, so you wouldn’t be distracted by your roommates. When you had breaks, they would call you to their offices and give you desserts and snacks.

And more often than not, their touches lingered, turning into hugs, caressing, and pinching when in private. To close, seemingly the start of a taboo, a risk, and yet when Professor Price had you pinned between him and Professor Garrick in his office one late night when most of the people at school had gone home, you didn't want them to stop.

You wanted the heat to rush over you, like a forest fire, unwavering.

Didn't pull back when he planted his lips on you. Didn't stop the very professor you looked up to as a musician to bunch up your skirt and grind his dick against your ass. Didn't stop even when the other two entered and Sir Price had his hand rubbing against your clothed cunt. Didn't stop when Professor Riley locked the door behind him as Sir Mactavish joined in.

Johnny’s snaked a hand around your waist, a bit harsher than the ones he’d always done, but you didn’t mind it. Not when his lips were gentle against yours, patient and exploring as he led you on his lap when he sat on your couch, stealing you from Price and Garrick. He drank on your gasp as you felt another pair of lips on your nape, dusting kisses along your flesh.

Simon breathed against your shoulder, hand grasping the swell of your breast and performed maddening massage that got your nipples pebbling under the fabric of your top. You flinched when he took them by fingers, the rolls languid, and shifted on the other man’s lap as you felt a poke underneath.

Johnny groaned against you, parting the breathtaking kiss. He removed you from his lap, only to turn you against him, now facing the professor who had shed his mask. His fingers dipped under the band of your panties, into your untouched bud and your wet folds. He rubbed with a hum, spreading your filth.

“You're so wet, hen,” he commented and inserted a digit, rubbing it against your slick walls.

Your teeth sunk to your lower lip, biting back a squeal at the sudden intrusion.

Simon placed his fingers under your chin and leaned down on you, his tongue running over your lips, something he had always wanted to do before. “Don't bite your lips. That's something we're supposed to do, yeah?” He whispered on your lips and explored your mouth, savoring the echoes of your pleasure, and left to plant his marks on your collarbones. Hands gathered your shirt and lifted it, exposing your chest to his sight.

His mouth dropped to the nipple, sucking while his hand went to work on the other.

Johnny began to pump faster, making you throw your head back to his chest, moaning out in pleasure as you shot a glance at other professors.

“You are not so innocent after all, hm?” Price took your jaw and ran his thumb over your lips, before pushing it in, muffling your cries.

“No one's that innocent nowadays, Price,” Garrick remarked, watching the frown on your face and the flutter of your lashes at every jerk of Johnny's hand made and Simon’s tongue did. His tongue ran over his lips, hand cupping over his hard-on, palming himself through his pants.

You began to suck on Price’s finger, making his dick twitch in his pants—his brain wondering how good your mouth would feel around him. He pulled his hand away to work down on his belt and pants, hands pulling out his shaft. He gave it a few pumps, chuckling when he noticed the way your tongue ran over your swollen lips before a groan escaped from it as Simon planted a bite on your neck and Johnny's thumb began to work on your clit.

Price brought his tip to your mouth. “Open up, dove,” he demanded and grunted as he pushed his shaft in, breath hitching at the warm feeling of your tongue and your throat. Your face twisted a bit at the taste of his precum. He let you adjust for a couple of seconds, hand going to the back of your head before he began to thrust.

One of your hands flew to hold onto his hip as you let him use your mouth, eyes fluttering closed and focusing on breathing through your nose. Out of the blue, Johnny pulled his fingers out and Simon stepped away, eliciting a whine from you. Vibrations ran down Price’s body and he groaned.

Unbuckling of belts echoed in the air, and you were pulled away from Price, making him curse. The next thing you knew, you were staring into the eyes of the man you had admired for so long.

“Sir—”

Kyle put his thumb over your lips, cutting off your words. “Not sir. Call me Kyle.” He positioned his cock under your cunt, rubbing the tip on your entrance.

You gasped at the sensation. “Kyle . . .” Your jaw slacked as he slowly went in, hands pulling you closer to his clothed body, fingers running on your flesh, gentle just as how he played his instruments.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s it,” he groaned, hands sliding down to your ass to guide you up and down on his length.

Now, he made music out of you.

It didn’t take a few ticks of the clock until they fucked you with all they had.

Simon’s cock was buried in the confines of your mouth, fingers tangled on your tresses, watching the curls of your lashes get soaked by the tears that rolled down on your cheeks as they relentlessly pounded on you—Kyle on your pussy, Price on your ass, and Johnny on your grasps. You had never felt so full, so complete.

You feel your legs shake—the sign you have reached the pinnacle of pleasure and exhaustion when Kyle hits the spot deep in you. You whined against Simon’s cock, groaning as beg for the overdue orgasm that they had been keeping from you.

You felt a hand slide down your thigh, finding your swollen clit, before the rough pads of the fingers rubbed aguishly gentle and slow. If they weren’t your professors, you would have cursed at whoever the one was doing it. But your wish had been heard and he picked up the pace until you were crying, arching your back.

But they weren’t done.

You felt Kyle and Price become rougher at each of their thrust, Simon tugging on your hair harder, and Johnny losing his rhythm on your hands, until they all pulled back, coating your skin with their cum.

You slumped on Kyle’s chest, limbs like a stringless puppet as you ride out the aftermath of your orgasm. Your heavy lids fell close, tired from the deed, but you fought back the drowsiness, not wanting to fall asleep in the state you were in.

“You did good, love,” Kyle cooed into your ear and planted a soft kiss on your temple.

Johnny leaned down and pressed a kiss on your shoulder. “Yer amazing, bonnie. Can’t wait to have more of ya.”

A hand caressed your flushed cheek, swiping the transparent mix of tears and sweat. “Let’s bring you back to your apartment, dove,” Price said in a gentle voice.

Gentle fingers scraped your scalp, gaining a hum from you, must be Simon with how his fingers feel on your head. An unspoken apology about the way he tugged on your locks.

Like the sky glowing, your skin glittered in the ruins they drew up. A masterpiece you were, vulnerable, vincible in their sight, like walls that had fallen. And yet as though a book which held thousands of words, they still had more things to know about you.

Like every start of a relationship. How fortresses were made. Each beginning of a story.

You basked in the echoes of their praise, letting their words bring you comfort and slowly help you regain your mind and strength.

Like after a fire, new maps were drawn. A new tale was written, with them, who swallowed a star.

Taglist: @itsyellow

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oraclekleins · 7 months ago

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hello, can you write Joost Klein x musician!reader where Joost and reader met at a mutual friend's party and they hit it off? And they start to develop feelings after a while of being friends!!!

thank you for the request, anon!

Good Luck, Babe!

Joost Klein/Musician!Reader

Fluff, Crushes, 1983 era Joost :-) + Reader is BFFs with Appie!

In the warm summer air, you embrace the night; sprawling out your fingers to trace the stars. The soft glow of string lights from above illuminate the beer you’re nursing in your hands, a dull chill spreading through your palms. You listen to the sound of your own breath in the silence, aside from the soft hum of fire from the pit in front of you, slow and a little raspy. The door to Apson’s house swings open and then closes. It was nice of Appie to invite you in the first place - you never could thank him enough for trying to involve you in his friend group. Usually, you’d politely decline the invitation, not quite having made it past the step of hyping yourself up in the mirror, promising it’d be a good night.

You remind yourself that this was practice for the stage. How were you supposed to perform if you couldn’t even manage to go to one of your best friend’s parties? Grimacing at the thought, you roll your shoulders, a sigh passing from your lips. Apson was the first one to have given your music a chance, having been sat on your bed as you wrote your lyrics, pushing your journal towards him after each edit. He would hum any sort of tune to catch your words, give you some sort of inspiration. It’s easy to be around him, it just feels right ; which happens to make the fear of making a good impression around his friends much worse.

A hand finds your shoulder, heavy and welcoming. You can smell his cologne before he speaks, saccharine and earthy. “Need to go get another case of beer, you coming with?” Apson grins, already tugging you along.

“Of course, yeah,” you’re starting to reply, nearly tripping down the porch steps, your arm catching another body in its stagger for balance.

His face is a bit mousey, grin curious and friendly. “Careful!” He teases, trailing after Apson. He glances back to you - like he’s making sure you’re following, a bit hesitant. You’re well aware of who he is, having seen hundreds of pictures of him and Appie together, flicking through their stories in a muted envy. Joost .

Appie releases you from his grip once you’re tugging at the passenger side door, Joost trailing after you. “Long time no see,” he says, sugary and faint, dying out into a giggle.

You climb into the car. He’s fumbling between buckling his seatbelt and throwing Appie’s collection of mess from the backseat into the trunk.

“You were at Appie’s birthday party, right?” You reply, fidgeting with your hands, beer long abandoned on the side of Apson’s porch.

Joost looks towards you. “Yeaahh,” he drags out the ah , dramatically. You can tell that he’s doing it to make you laugh, searching for your smile after. “I remember you. The singer!” The singer. You can't help but wonder how much you told him, 6 shots deep and in desperation to look like a good, talented friend. The label makes you a little sick, but you nod.

“You as well? I think I saw your album on Instagram - it was good, really good,” the fabric of your shirt is sticking to your chest, cotton-stiff and uncomfortable. You turn to roll down the window, the still heat wavering in the backseat.

“Appie! AC?” You whine a bit, tapping at the driver’s seat.

Apson pauses from sticking his keys into the ignition, glaring at you through the mirror. "Roll down the window! I gotta start the car, man."

You sigh, giving up as your back hits the carseat.

Joost glances over again, fiddling with his phone case. "Really cool you saw my stuff. Now I gotta hear yours, okay?" He offers you an earbud, wire already stuck into his phone.

You feel a little nauseous.

ᯓ★

It hadn't taken long for you and Joost to connect after the party. Embarrassingly enough, when you had gotten his follow request, days passed before you finally accepted it and sent a message. It became a lot easier to speak with him, bonding over being independent artists.

Of course, every glimpse of him on your feed had snuck into your dreams, slipping through them like the moonlight in your window. You're startled awake, chest heaving from the thought of his face. Fingers threading through his blonde strands, tangling them and curling them around your knuckle. The thought feels like praying, knelt at the altar, eager for your next glimpse.

You wondered if he knew.

"You're an up and coming, for serious," he would blurt out after every sneak of music you showed him. The endless praise for your work cycled into daily conversation, asking to see what you were working on- or if he could help with anything.

You couldn't help but wonder how long this dance between you two would go, when every touch became an apology for being too shy. When you could lace your fingers with his, joking about the size of your hands, yet too nervous to nestle your face into the crook of his neck.

You feel homesick when his arm isn't wrapped around your shoulder, peeking over your phone to see what you're doing rather than talking to him. He always knows how to make you look up, smile, giddy just to get a reaction.

When he confesses his 'silly', unripe feelings - it feels like the sky itself had opened up and sang for you.

#hope you like!!#my writing #joost klein x you #joost klein imagines #joost klein x reader #rpf #joost klein imagine #joost klein x musician!reader

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adriixboo · 1 month ago

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hear me out fr on a sans x reader idea. like classic sans specifically (bc im a sucker for classic sans idgaf)

y/n's a singer/songwriter, an artist, a performer even😈 but like, this is the hear me out, the songs that y/n releases kind of goes everywhere yk? like some are similar to songs like "Black Out Days (Future Islands remix)" to stuff that sounds like some of 6arelyhuman's or Odetari.

sometimes it's stuff that's similar to Deftones, something like James Marriott, and Jack Stauber.

do you see where i'm going with this?? no honestly am i making sense?

what i mean is, the genres change and y/n doesn't have a main one, ofc they have their favorite genre pero like yeah😞😞

like this has been on my MINDDD for a while. each time i listen to music, i end up thinking about it and it's rotting my brain.

sometimes i like to think y/n visiting Grillby's on the surface and Grillby has TVs or speakers in the corners that connect with bluetooth. i like to think that Fuku is a HUGE fan of y/n and basically takes over the music at Grillby's at any given chance. ofc she would play other music that matches the vibes at the bar/grill (lmao, grill), but more often than not, she's usually playing y/n's music (songs that fit whatever vibe, like the "Black Out Days" remix i mentioned)

y/n walks into Grillby's wearing something with a hood (hood up) and sunglasses a little tired and wants to relax for a bit. they go sit at the bar on a barstool and realizes that their song is playing in the background and is basically like ":D omg"

when grillby goes to ask for their order, he recognizes them (because of Fuku lol) and he's calm about it, obviously yk, and he mentions Fuku being a fan.

let's assume Fuku's either busy with someone else at the bar, away from the barstools, or somewhere in the back. and since y/n's all for making people happy, they ask to meet Fuku and thank her for supporting them big time and to basically surprise her, cuz who wouldn't be surprised and happy to see their fav artist??? and the singer being genuinely friendly and happy that they met a fan????? personally i'd fold but anyway. Fuku's all excited and y/n is just so "🥰🥰🥰" about her bc she's adorable

in this scenario i think sans is also a fan of y/n but on a more lowkey level, bc it's sans.

---

im not great at writing 😭 so i can't necessarily write a one shot or anything,, like i have the imagination, but can't put it in words

i have more ideas about this, like y/n meeting the monsters in different ways and i would love to share more (im gonna do it anyway, eventually)

#sans undertale #sans #x reader #undertale #grillby #grillby undertale #sans x reader #musician!reader #artist!reader

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id-rather-be-an-outsider · 1 year ago

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Fanboys SMAU • the label

summary: the main cast of Fanboys!

a/n: I like SMAUs… heehee… <3 and college AUs bc I’m a college student and I always picture fictional characters as my age so 🥰✨ enjoy!

Geto Suguru, Ryomen Sukuna, Gojo Satoru

this is your senior (and junior, in Sukuna’s case) trio. they’re known as fuckboys to the ENTIRE school — but they’re the fuckboys everyone wants, even if they know they can never really have them.

Itadori Yuuji, Fushiguro Megumi, Kugisaki Nobara

this is your freshman trio. when you join, you’ll be part of a freshman quartet! they’re all hot and popular, but very down to earth, and you can count on them when you need them!

Inumaki Toge, Zenin Maki, Okkotsu Yuta

this is your sophomore trio. similar to the freshmen, this group is chill, even if the school is all over them. it’s hard being wildly attractive, but with friends like these, it makes the challenge bearable.

#nobara kugisaki #maki zenin #megumi fushiguro #yuuji itadori #yuta okkotsu #toge inumaki #satoru gojo #suguru geto #sukuna ryomen #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #musician!reader #jjk smau #jjk college au #reverse harem #outsider writes #fanfiction #fanboys JJK smau

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rqdio · 29 days ago

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PLEASE MAKE MORE BILLIE TEXTS THERE ARE LITERALLY NONE ON HERE, WE NEED MOREEE, TY PRETTY🩷🩷

ྀིྀི more texts with, your girlfriend, billie (a slightly horny edition) pt... 2

you guys asked and i delivered, this was fun to make (could you tell that i'm ovulating rn)

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bellesdreamyprofile · 6 months ago

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belle's masterlist:

ELVIS PRESLEY:

one shots:

sad days with y/n - 1970´s elvis

cowboy feels with elvis and y/n

earth angel - 1973 elvis

the Presleys - book:

the Presleys - introduction

the Presleys - chapters

AUSTIN BUTLER:

the bikeriders - series 1:

part 1: benny & y/n : first encounter

part 2: benny & y/n : the library

part 3: benny & y/n : the picnic

part 4: benny & y/n : the bonfire

part 5: benny & y/n: the hospital

part 6: benny & y/n: coming home

part 7: benny & y/n: the wedding

the bikeriders - series 2:

part 1: a baby miracle

part 2 : a baby miracle

part 3 : a baby miracle

part 4 : a baby miracle

part 5: a baby miracle

part 6: a baby miracle

#fanfiction #imagine #musicians #elvis 2022 #elvis x reader #elvis presley #one shot #austin butler x reader #austin butler #the bikeriders #benny cross #benny cross x reader #elvis presley x reader

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rose-lunaire · 10 months ago

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music box | hannibal with a musician!S/O

dedicated to all the beautiful artistic souls reading this, i hope you like it!

pairing: hannibal x gn!reader

warnings: yandere behaviour, unspecified age gap, my lack of knowledge of musical terms

you met in the backstage of your first recital

hannibal was mesmerised by your craft, such mature and fresh interpretation of his favourite piece

“that was an excellent performance you gave us”

you nearly dropped your music sheets from shock

“o, oh, thank you so much, sir. to be honest, i was worried the nerves came through too much and ruined it…”

“i assure you, the concerto was flawless. mahler requires this uncertainty and you portrayed that beautifully.”

the way he said it seemed to lift all the weight from your shoulder; there was no room for question in his voice, just pure respect

“pardon me, where are my manners. my name is hannibal lecter and i would like to become your patron”

and that’s how it started: your relationship emerged from this contract and eventually evolved into friendship

in the end blossoming into something more

you always appreciate his remarks while practicing until late at night

he’s your biggest supporter!

always carrying your stuff from practice, saying he can’t allow you hurting yourself

he would massage your hands after long practices, kissing the tips of your fingers like the most delicate of flowers

don’t be shy about your callouses, hannibal sees them as a token of your hard work and dedication

they’re beautiful, just like your mind and heart

he would do anything to protect you from critique

once upon a time someone dared write an unpleasant review of your performance and it was the end of their career

their body was found in the trash behind the opera house the next day and on their blog posted an apology to you, saying they were paid and coerced to say those abhorrent things to you

you never found out about this case, hannibal took you on a retreat to a national park, free of any distractions to “gain inspiration”

he admires you as a connoisseur but also as an artist

he was a bit shy to showcase his work for the first time

but then he fell for you all over again when he heard you playing his pieces

they sound so different yet so familiar, he can’t focus on the notes and instead stares at your hands, mesmerised

you’re his porcelain doll, the most precious treasure he will cherish until the end of his days

displayed only for his deserving eyes, inside a beautiful box, dancing to his tune, twirling around laughing, his applause is the only thing you can hear

too beautiful for others to truly appreciate, you’re hidden away in his study

bound to be perfect

#hannibal x reader #hannibal imagine #nbc hannibal #hannibal lecter #will graham #bedelia du maurier #hannibal reactions #hannibal headcanons #hannibal preferences #yandere hannibal #hannibal #hannibal fluff #mads mikkelsen #mads mikkelsen x reader #art #musician

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jinns-arcane-feverdream · 19 days ago

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Musician Steb headcanons

Steb 10000000000% knows how to play multiple instruments and knows some of the classics by heart

He’s definitely a string orchestra kinda guy, I can just see it in his eyes and posture

His favorite is the viola, but he knows the violin, cello, and bass as well. He’s learning the harp, and is also a master at the piano

If you’re ever having a rough day, he offers to play some calming music for you

He also loves to play music while watching the sunset, playing tunes that he feels illuminate the colors in the sky

like, he paints the sky with his music

Sometimes you’ll come home and he’ll be absentmindedly playing, and you just stand and listen, not wanting to disturb him but also wanting to admire his skill

He lets you sit on his piano while he plays

He’s started teaching you in duets where you both play the same piano at once

Sometimes when you can’t sleep, he offers to play music for you to sleep to

If you need to focus, he’ll provide focusing music

Really, he plays music for any occasion for you

At your wedding, he plays a piece he wrote just for you on the piano. Of course, he tears up during it because it’s very emotional and he just loves you so much

He definitely has recorded his music and puts it on records and plays those records during baths and ~sexy time~

And your first dance at your wedding is a recording of a piano duet you guys wrote and played together

#steb is a musician #arcane #league of legends #steb arcane #steb #arcane x reader #arcane steb #arcane netflix #steb arcane x reader #steb my beloved #steb my love #steb x reader #steb imagine #steb headcanon #monako jinn headcanons

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phantomsies · 12 days ago

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SACRIFICE + eren j. , chrollo l.

two musical geniuses, a jealous husband vs. an obsessed ex..and the alliance between them that you’d never thought you’d see.

📝: musician x influencer au, (this is an expansion of the original one, an au within an au), black fem reader, smut themes, implied threesome, this is an excerpt and it will make sense once I post the full fic. If nobody is fucking with the concept, we’ll just pretend this never happened 🌚

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

compromise…to settle a dispute by mutual concessions. To sacrifice and even bend for the sake of the greater good. Out of all of the intricate lyrics and enigmatic pieces composed by your husband, it wasn’t a word that had ever found mainstay in his vocabulary! For nothing, no one and especially not for a person whom he’d harbor resentment against. Or rather…hated their fucking guts with a passion! Extreme, but a far more accurate description. Although, you couldn’t blame him too much. After all, this was someone who reminded Eren not only of himself but of the harsh reality, that what once was…could always be again!

“Yeees, that’s it, gorgeous. That’s the pretty face I know..the same one you used to make when I was so deep inside of you..”

eyes trailing to the back of (y/n)‘s skull, those nimble fingers clawing into the dark silk sheets and your back raised from the mattress as your husband’s cock made what felt like permanent residence inside of those warm folds. The constant snapping of his hips with sporadic thrusts and that menacing smirk on his face: a sure fire sign that he had something to prove. He’d always fucked you like a rabid animal when he had a point to get across. When you’d angered him, when he missed you..and now, when your ex fling thought that he could make a return and swoop you out from under him. Too bad for him, that ship has long sailed and it was another man’s last name you were wearing these days. Not to mention the half a million dollar wedding ring. It was also your beloved EJ who couldn’t stop pulling orgasm after orgasm from that beautiful body..making you quiver and writhe in a fit of bliss whilst those delicious juices splattered his abs, the sheets and anything in its vicinity. The man who’d contorted your body until you folded and proceeded to drill that leaking pussy into full blown submission. All but etching his name on your insides to remind you who you belonged to. Hell, at this point, it was more consolation for himself more than anything.

“Don’t listen to that bastard, princess. Eyes on me…I’m the only one you need to focus on. Fuck him.”

but as that third climax neared and his thumb pad rolled around on your clit, Eren couldn’t help but to feel that your body was intertwined with his own but your mind resided somewhere else at the moment. That the other voice in the room had penetrated your psyche while he only held dominion over your flesh. It was a surefire way to piss him off, that was for certain. Because no matter how hard he grasped your hips, regardless of how far that fat, throbbing dick glided into you and stuffed that pretty cunt to the brim..no matter how many times you met his amazing strokes with the clap of that voluptuous ass, crying out to him for more and begging to let you squirt all over him as his rings pressed against your throat whilst tears, as well as a smile plagued your face. Or if he placed a foot on your head and fucked you reminescent of an animal as his new rival glared on. It didn’t make a difference how many times you called him ‘daddy’ or told him that he was making you feel so good; so tight that he felt as if his entire shaft was going to snap in half! Hell, you could shout to the heavens that it was all his. Anything to make him feel better..to console that already shattered ego of his. After all, it had to be pretty damn fragile to even entertain someone else when he was fucking the most beautiful woman either of them had ever laid eyes upon.

“How sad..even now, as our princess is about to come so hard for you..you can’t even grant her your full attention. And you think you’ll convince me that she’s in better hands with a man who’s so utterly selfish?”

because even as you centered his face to your own with a palm on his cheek and pleaded with him to look into your eyes as he stuffed you full of his seed..he too had accepted the fact that you were divided. Feeling defeated even now as you reach euphoria right underneath him. Because the man who had been viewing this salacious display..dark eyes glued to your nude bodies, fist clenched around that cock..stroking back and forth as veins protrude in his hands and precum seeped down the knuckles. His chest exposed as he stimulated those sensitive nipples..something his precious (y/n) had done so many times before. The man who felt more like a conductor to a salacious symphony rather than a helpless third party watching the girl he was once called his be fucked stupid by another guy..wasn’t interested in competing at all! Not when it came to music, awards shows, charts or even a seat at the proverbial table. And most certainly not for you. Even if it was a childish bet that had landed you here in the first place.

“Come now, pretty girl. Don’t hold back..you look as if you want to explode. It’s okay.”

and like that, rising to his feet ever so casually, he’d continue pumping that dick in his palm as he inched closer, snatching your face towards his own so that you could meet gazes like you did that first night you’d encountered one another. Eventually teasing the head against your plump lips and lobbing a trail of spit between them. Almost as if he wasn’t even in the room, as if it wasn’t his cock pleasuring you, (y/n) released at this man’s whim! As if he had trained you previously.

“Chrollo..” “That’s right..I’m here now, darling. Sorry to keep you waiting. Be a good girl for us and come. Don’t make him ask again.”

meanwhile, Eren could only glare as you made a mess of him, pawing at his abs and thanking him furiously for bringing you to ecstasy. But there was no need for ill will or hurt feelings. He wasn’t the enemy whatsoever. More so like an ally to his cause. Chrollo didn’t see the need in bickering when they could both enjoy you to their heart's content. When you desire them equally. A compromise. After all, it was what love and life were all about. And sadly, it didn’t seem he had a choice.

“You see, Eren. It’s what I’ve been telling you all along. If we work together, we can accomplish great things..I know our baby feels the same.”

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