#INCREDIBLE TASTE PREV

[httpsserene]

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊’𝖘 1𝖐 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 - 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖑𝖎𝖒𝖎𝖙𝖘

𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫: 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐭𝐡

summary: soiled, virgin!reader is well aware of her boyfriends’ desire to eat her alive, sorry, to eat her out. from the way they can’t resist drinking her wetness off their (or her own) fingers, to the way they can’t stop running their mouths about getting their mouths on you: they’ve made how desperate they are, very clear. for some reason, she can’t get past her mental block to allow them to feast between her legs, or to taste what’s between theirs. max figures she just needs a demonstration to quell her fears; charles is a more than willing participant. content warning: 18+ only. explicit. no penetrative sex. corruption kink. oral sex. multiple orgasms. implied overstimulation. rimming. fingering. thigh riding. handjobs mentioned. praise kink. dom/sub undertones. coming untouched. word count: 2.6k words pairing: charles leclerc / max verstappen x fem!black!reader soundtrack: super freaky girl • nicki minaj

preface: so...have your charles craving satisfied, but having reader's astral projection from max and charles' mouth will have to wait for tomorrow in the final episode. i know, i know, i'm cruel-but tbh last chapter is all reader focused and the "oral sex" for her plays more into that chapter so get ready for the longest chapter tomorrow, it's going to be a trip me thinks.

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max might drive for a team called Red Bull, but charles is the one stubborn like a bull. he’s chronically difficult and dramatic, and incredibly headstrong—but he folds like a lawn chair after hearing and being forced to watch max finger you to orgasm for three days straight. it doesn’t help that you seem to be completely oblivious as to how the older man is using you to break the monegasque down; you’re just eager to be back experiencing pleasure after your week long ban.

charles is playing COD with the quartet, he has to mute his mic so the boys don’t pick up on your screams from the room over when max makes you cum. charles comes back from running around monaco with andrea and, max has you splayed on the kitchen island while he rabbits his finger into you. the three of you are watching cars on the tv, and charles storms off to take his third cold shower of the day when max slips his hand under your blanket. seeing the state of his surroundings, it’s obvious why he breaks on day three.

it’s odd, because he caves and apologizes when you and max aren’t doing anything remotely sexual. 

the three of you have already eaten dinner, and max has been whispering in your ear the whole time before both of you clear your plates eagerly and sneak away—charles simply thought that this was max seducing you into having another round with his fingers. and putain, charles is going to have to apologize. he can admit his…wrongdoings to max if being able to touch you again is a reward, forget being allowed to cum again. it’s cruel and unusual punishment max had wordlessly instated when he doesn’t let charles touch you on top of not letting him cum. he bursts into the bedroom where you and max have closed yourselves in, expecting to see the dutchman with his hands between your legs as usual, but that’s not the case.

the two of you are sitting on the floor building a lego set. c'est quoi ce bordel (what the hell), charles may actually be going insane. max looks up at him from the floor, where you are sitting in his lap reading through the manual, with an annoying smirk—and charles is ready to drop his apology entirely. then you look at him: sweet smile spreading across your face for him, eyes brightening, and hand reaching out to pat the floor next to max for him to sit down with you. he loses his ire with the blonde and joins the two of you on the floor, humming excitedly when you show him the model for the ferrari 450, and presses a brief kiss to your cheek.

he watches as you open the first pack of lego blocks, and turns to look at max. the man’s cool blue eyes pierce his green ones, and charles feels like he already knows that his apology is imminent.

“i shouldn’t have,” the brunet pauses and licks his lips, “—shouldn’t have acted like a brat. i was being bad and i didn’t need to tease you. i’m sorry and i won’t do it again.”

the sound of you spilling the legos on the floor is comical, but charles sees how you freeze for a split second at his words, you’re processing the sexual dynamic he has with max and he’s far past being embarrassed over it. you, however, are completely new to this, and he sees how you keep your stare focused on the legos and he can imagine the blush rising to your warmed brown cheeks. 

max stares unmoving at the monegasque for a few more seconds, letting the nerves build up in charles to see him squirm, “you don’t have to lie, schatje. we both know you’ll be a brat again.”

said brat flushes, and mutters indignantly but doesn’t try to refute his claim.

“i think this is the fastest you’ve apologized to me,” max ponders, his hand coming up to play with a few of your curls as he plans his next plan of action, “and you’ve been so good for me. you haven’t complained about not being able to touch our pretty girl at all.”

your hands shake and scatter lego bricks at the man mentioning you, but he continues further, “and, i think that deserves a reward. maybe we can move her along to the next step at the same time too.”

charles nods fervently.

“would you like the honor of using her mouth and eating her out for the first time, charlie?”

“merde—of course i—“

“no.”

charles and max cease their conversation immediately, and look down at you. your face has shifted into an expression they haven’t seen in a while. the look in your eyes is guarded, your hands have wrapped around your waist hugging yourself as if you need to be protected, you’re chewing at your bottom lip anxiously—it’s all the two need to see to come to the conclusion that you are scared. the younger man looks at max and let’s him take the lead.

“okay, liefje. that’s completely fine,” max reassures, dropping his hand from your hair to rub soothingly along your back, “we won’t make you do anything that you don’t want to do, remember? can you at least tell us why, baby?”

you turn around in his lap and bury your face into his neck, muffling your words in his skin. charles tuts, and rests a hand on the back of your neck to pull you away from the dutchman’s neck.

“i…’s not gonna be good. for you guys, i mean..if you use your mouth on me. you don’t get anything out of it,” charles huffs disbelievingly, and max shushes him with a look, “and—and, it’s not like i need it either—it’s useless to do it when you can just stretch me out and fuck me. girls don’t need that. and, i’ve never…done oral stuff before,” max and charles know that already, you haven’t done anything besides what they’ve shown you, “so ‘m going to suck.”

“first of all,” max starts calmly, “it sounds like you’re repeating what somebody has said to you before—is that true?”

you offer a half shrug and a slight nod as a response. 

“well, whoever that was is a fucking idiot. liefje, we’ve given you our thighs and my hands and asked for nothing in return besides your orgasm. i can assure you we receive plenty of pleasure giving you pleasure. it’s not crazy of me to say that we’ll enjoy having our mouths on you more than you will,” max smiles lightly, “and—we’re well aware that we’re your firsts. we don’t mind, or hate that. we like that; we love teaching you how to please yourself and us, and you’ve been so quick at making us feel good. you didn’t suck at giving us handjobs, you just had to learn how to. there’s a learning curve, baby, and you are way ahead of it.”

you shift shyly in max’s lap, still timid and unsure of the idea of oral sex, and he thinks of a compromise, “what if i show you how good i can make you feel with my mouth? will you think about trying it out after that?”

charles looks at max in question, but the blonde is to busy staring at you for your answer to pay charles any attention. 

“y-yes, i will think about it.”

the older man hums thankfully, and presses his lips to yours briefly before turning to the brunet who’s put away the lego pieces. 

“charles,” max’s voice has dropped, the commanding tone slipping in seamlessly, “get on the bed.”

charles can’t recall how he ended up naked on the bed with max between his legs sucking hickeys into his neck and you by his side monopolizing his lips. he’s burning up already, sweat gathering along his hairline and his hands shaking at his side, unsure as to where to grab for purchase. you reach out and interlock your fingers with his, holding his hand sweetly as you allow him to bruise your lips in the filthiest of manners. max has just finished painting his collarbone with pretty shades of pink and red, and drops to his chest to toy with his nipples.

charles breaks away from your mouth and whines brokenly at the scratch of max’s teeth on his sensitive chest. he pushes his into and away from the older man’s mouth, unsure if he wants more or less of the overwhelming touch, and max decides for him. he continues down charles’ torso giving his chest a break and he bites, licks, nips, kisses at his defined abdomen. the monegasque has definition in places max doesn’t and he loves it. he laughs quietly at the feeling of charles’ abs jumping underneath his skin, and moves to make a mess of the man’s hip bones and v-line. he spends several minutes sucking the harshest of marks into the dip of his waist and jut of his hips, pressing over them with his thumbs just to hear charles choke and whimper at the soreness. 

max shifts downwards, pulling the pretty boy’s legs apart to rest on his shoulders. he feels more than sees charles’ thighs begin to shake in anticipation—his eyes are more focused on the mouthwatering sight of charles’ cock pulsing from where it rests on his navel.

max completely avoids brushing his lips on or around charles’ painfully red, throbbing length. his tongue moves lower.

the monegasque gasps, shuddering dramatically as his eyes roll back. alarmed at his reaction, your eyes fly down to look at max, and you gasp along with charles. when max said he’d show you how good he could make you feel, you thought that meant he’d give charles a blowjob. not that he’d be eating charles out. but, who are you to complain, especially if charles looks like he’s just astrally projected onto another plane of mental enlightenment at max’s talented mouth. 

the younger man’s free hand struggles downward to tug at max’s hair to make sure he stays firmly pressed against him, and charles wildly begins to roll his hips downward to try and get max’s tongue deeper. max grunts in dissent, and he splays his forearm across the burnet’s abdomen to pin his hips to the bed. you can’t tell who moans louder at max’s strength—you or charles. the dutchman makes eye contact with you from in between charles legs—you can see his jaw working furiously—and he winks at you, before he closes his eyes and devotes his full attention to charles' ass.

you need to learn how to shut up and say yes to anything max tries to get you to do—you could’ve been in the monegasque’s place right now. 

charles’ cock looks painful, like it’s more of a hindrance than a pleasure at the moment. you drag your hand down his torso to wrap around his dick—but it’s knocked away by max, who pulls his head from in between charles’ legs (who cries out angrily).

“oh, he doesn’t need any help cumming,” max offers, a smirk spreading across his lips at charles’ humiliated noises, and buries himself back down. 

charles really didn’t need the help, because less than thirty seconds later, he cums. it’s the prettiest sight, you’ve seen so far. charles’ orgasm should be framed in an art museum—he looks like a god, his face tightening before it loosens, muscles lax, and mouth wide open. he doesn’t moan, he cries out, in shuddering breaths like he’s trying to breathe but failing, the pleasure too much for him to handle. his cum sprays in waves against his abdomen, and it’s a healthy amount—is it because he hasn’t cum in a while, or is this a usual occurrence? you can’t wait to find out. 

you swipe a finger to collect some of his release to taste, but max steals it—grabbing your hand and sucking it off himself with a moan. you pout, and he laughs, shimmying himself to the side to allow you space to slip between charles’ limp legs. 

max wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he pants, and says to you, “lick it off from down here—it gives him a prettier view of you.”

you whimper, but do as max says. stretching upwards to trace your tongue along charles’ abdomen, eagerly swallowing down every line of cum you pass across. the monegasque moans throatily at the sight of your wide eyes and pink tongue, his eyes flickering to max who looks proud. you pull away when you’ve cleaned everything off his torso, and turn towards max for further instruction. 

he kisses you—and the two of you exchange the taste of charles through your tongues. you hear charles’ head fall backwards and knock against the headboard.

max pulls away once he deems your mouth emptied of charles, and looks at the ruined man, “oh? liefje, i think you’ve missed a spot—right there.”

you look to where max is directing you, and he’s right, you have missed a spot. there’s bead of cum running down the head of charles’ cock that you haven’t cleaned away. so, you lean down and suckle it away gently. charles whimpers highly, and max sees his hips buckling upward and presses them down before he thrusts against your mouth.

“i think you missed a little bit more, liefje. you should lick all of him clean just to make sure.”

you shift anxiously, flicking your eyes up to charles who’s staring at you with glazed eyes as he nods in agreement with max’s words.

that’s all it takes for you to drool over the monegasque’s dick like you haven’t had a meal in days, hungrily swiping your tongue along his length, moaning depravedly. you even find yourself going ahead and sucking the charles’ cock into your mouth, humming sweetly at the weight resting on your tongue. 

“t-too much!” charles gasps, hips twitching under max’s hand.

“be good, schatje. she only wants to taste you a little more.”

max rests his hand on the back of your head, and it guides you a little lower, more of charles’ length sliding into your mouth. you pant around him, thighs pressing together to try and address your own arousal as you sloppy bob your head on his dick. the dutchman lowers himself down again, slipping alongside you and pressing his mouth against the lower half you don’t have in your mouth, his own tongue tracing along charles’ underside.

“merde, i’m going to cum again,” charles whines desperately.

max shifts lower again to suck his balls into his mouth and brings a hand up to press at charles’ hole. the hand on the back of your head pulls you away quick enough to avoid having you choke on charles’ cum, but his release splatters on the lower half of your face. it paints your lips, chin, and jaw, hot, thick, and creamy.

the two men stare at you in awe, and charles acts first. he pulls you up the bed, and presses your lips together to share his cum between the two of you. max clears his throat when charles tongues the last drip of cum on your jawline, “well—you’ve had time to think about it. can we eat your pretty pussy now?”

“c-can you put a towel down,” you murmur from where charles has tucked your head under his chin, “i don’t want to get the bed wet again.”

charles’ laugh echoes through your chest as max leaps up to run and get a towel like you asked, “mon ange—whether or not we put down the towel; max and i are going to make you cum so much, we’ll have to throw away the bed sheets.”

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© httpsserene 2023

[psilliguykai]

Aghh this is so heckin cool!! My mom isn’t a “fan” necessarily but she said she really liked all the WW songs I showed her (which was a lot lol) and she sang along to love me normally with me when I played it :DD so uh, Will Wood moms for the win ? :3

Would yall believe if I said my mom has been a tally hall/miracle musical fan longer than I have

[refractionfish]

rating akira's outfits from the devilman manga because he's a fashion king and i'm tired of the denial

FIT ONE: little shit goes to school. 3/10.

not off to a great start. every anime boy who likes beating the shit out of people walks around their shirt unbuttoned — UNORIGINAL. points are only granted for the confidence, eyeliner, and being so dedicated to this stupid look to unbutton both the uniform jacket and undershirt.

FIT TWO: matching striped jammies. 6/10.

tits out even while in pajamas! no wonder miki won't leave the guy alone. plus, one can't not appreciate the kitschy charm of a pajama set. real honk shoo honk shoo mimimimimi vibes. however, points lost because all go nagai protags own this set.

FIT THREE: perfect for sitting gayly in a chair. 9/10.

if there is one thing that i liked about 2010s fashion it was the ringer shirts. i fucking love a contrasting hem. we're also seeing an effective use of the sandwich method: light top, dark pants, light shoes. bell bottoms always a win. points lost because i dont think converse are the move when your pants are a little too short.

FIT FOUR: even gayer than the last 10/10.

this could be the fit as above and nagai just forgot details of it, seeing as he forgets the lace up neck on literally the next page. however it looks different enough that im counting it separately. considering the prev, we have an already great fit made even better by the deeper cleavage + sexy neckline. literally no complaints here.

FIT FIVE: goth rugby player. 20/10.

personal bias for monochromatic fits coming through here but whatever!! the flares + rugby shirt w/ contrasting collar is absolutely incredible. sleek with visual flare from the collar, of which the contrast serves to draw attention directly to the tits. which was the intended goal, i'm sure.

FIT SIX: literally double breasted. 0/10.

i'm sorry akira but what is this. "double breasted" because he has two jackets on, a look that i think only works if the under-jacket is lighter. a uniform jacket under a blazer just warrants the question of why doesn't one wear a heavier jacket.

FIT SEVEN: goth steve jobs. 100/10.

THE CLASSIC DEVILMAN FIT. the fit for a reason. all black is always so sleek and so sexy. add that to a turtleneck and little gay booties and you have a fit that defines alluring. the class of it all is somehow more sexy than the deep cleavage favored earlier in the story.

FIT EIGHT: the boyfriend fit. 8/10.

yes that is ryo's shirt and blazer — akira's got all ripped when he fought the demon army. clearly ryo's got more reserved tastes compared to akira, and the result is classy. i prefer flashier, so most points are awarded for pulling off the wearing my boyfriend's shirt look.

FIT NINE: inappropriate apocalypse attire. 6/10.

back in his own clothes and thus back to showing off the tits. looks like a white shirt and black pants, which is nothing to write home about despite tailoring looking nice. cleavage is the only thing pulling this above 5.

average score: 18/10!! i hope to have made my point!! put some respect on akira's name for knowing how to dress.

[clangenrising]

Month 16 - Greenleaf

Content Warning: This piece includes content that may be triggering to some viewers. See previous piece for details.

Prev | First | Next

The days after the kitting stretched on in an endless miasma of misery. Oddstripe and Sagetooth came in to check on Mystique at least once a day, usually once in the morning and once in the evening, but otherwise the wild cats left her alone in the darkness with nothing but the little, nagging creatures and the shifting shadow of her guard at the door. 

Mystique hated the kittens. They pulled and nipped at her belly incessantly. She couldn’t help but growl at the wretched things. Every now and then, she would get up and huddle in the corner to simply get away from them until their wailing became too much for her guilty conscience to bear and she was forced to return and feed them. She hated them but they were only children. It wasn’t like they asked to be born. Really, it was her fault for being so stupid in the first place.

She was so stupid, so incredibly and unbearably stupid. If there was something she hated more than the kittens it was herself. Every time she hissed at the mewling beasts she wanted to bash her own skull in. Every time she rolled her eyes at Oddstripe instead of asking him for the help he had offered to give her she wondered why she didn’t just try to escape and let Russetfrond tear her throat out. Alone in that cursed den, she often thought back to the conversation she had overheard between Scorch and Yarrowshade and knew that, in the end, she deserved every tortuous second here. 

Scorch considered the idea of Razor being sweet to be nightmarish. Cornered in her own mind, Mystique was forced to let the Shadow Truth consume her entirely. Razor was a monster, the kind of man any normal cat would be terrified to be left alone with.

And yet, she missed him.

She missed him so terribly. She longed for him so strongly it made her jaw ache. Despite all evidence to the contrary, a voice in her head told her that, if he were here, everything would be alright. She didn’t know how to fathom what kind of monster that made her but she was pretty certain she was an irredeemable pile of garbage, at least. She had to wonder how anyone could have ever mistaken her for a cat in the first place. 

Her thoughts continued like this, endlessly retracing the same paths of thought over and over again. Only her daily check ups managed to break her from that pattern of thought. 

“Morning,” said Oddstripe gently as he stepped inside one day. “How are you doing, Mystique?” 

“Mm,” was all she said. The kittens had woken her up constantly that night, leaving her tired and irritated. Speaking seemed like a task for the rested and the content, not for her.  

“I brought you some more chamomile,” Oddstripe continued with a little smile. He stepped closer carefully and set the little white flowers at her paws. Begrudgingly, Mystique started chewing them and swallowing them down. The taste wasn’t anything special but she knew from the last few days that the flowers did seem to take the edge off, just a bit. 

Oddstripe settled down next to her and pulled the kittens close to him to look them over. The blue one wailed and Mystique hissed on instinct, immediately wishing she could seal her mouth shut forever. Oddstripe didn’t seem to notice or mind. He gave both the kittens a quick bath and then set them aside. Mystique raised her brow quizzically. 

“I was thinking we could go for a walk today,” he explained. “You’ve been here in the dark for far too long. I think it would be good to get you some sunlight.” 

“Won’t the kittens starve?” she asked, not sure if she cared either way.

Oddstripe shook his head. “No, we’ll stay close to camp and be back in time for them to eat again.” 

Mystique didn’t really want to move but a chance to get away from the kits was too valuable to pass up. She stood and shook her fur out a bit. The beautiful, glossy, perfectly-combed coat she had once been so proud of had devolved into a dusty, tangled mess with clumps of spring shed stuck in little matts throughout. Her throat labored thickly with shame and disgust. 

“Alright girls,” Oddstripe called out of the den and in came Fogpaw, Slatepaw, and Barleybee. Mystique bristled uncomfortably, feeling suddenly crowded. 

“We’ll be back in a bit,” continued Oddstripe. “Make sure the nest is clean by then.” 

“Don’t worry, dad,” said Barleybee, curling around the mewling kittens. “I’ll make sure everything goes smoothly.” 

“Oh, thank you, dear,” smiled Oddstripe. Slatepaw had already started bundling the moss and feathers away. Beside her, Fogpaw stared at Mystique in a strangely expressionless manner. It made her fur prickle with unease.

“Come on,” said Oddstripe gently, laying his tail against Mystique’s leg. She inhaled sharply at the touch, then nodded, padding after him into the morning sunlight without a backward glance. Sparrowsway was seated by the entrance and stood up as they emerged. 

“Oh, that’s alright,” said Oddstripe. “Why don’t you stay here?”

“Are you sure?” asked the young warrior. “If something happened-”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” Oddstripe assured him. “We’ll be back before you know it. Take a rest.”

“Alright…” Sparrowsway pursed his lips, eyes lingering on Mystique, but he dutifully settled down again. Mystique sighed heavily. 

Tail against her leg to guide her, Oddstripe led her out of camp and towards the top of the ridge. The wind fluttered in the grass and the sun beat down on their pelts, already evaporating the morning dew. Mystique trudged along, gaze foggy. 

“I’m sorry things have been so difficult lately,” Oddstripe said after a few moments. “I wish there was more I could do to help you.” 

Mystique shrugged. “It's fine.” I deserve it.

“It’s not though,” he said kindly. “You’re going through a lot of things that no one should have to.” Mystique found herself starting to cry. She stopped walking and ducked her face away in shame. Oddstripe, to his credit, bumped his head into her shoulder and started to purr in an attempt to soothe her. For some reason, that made her break down even harder. 

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, legs buckling beneath her, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me!” 

“It’s the Kitten Crash,” he told her. “It’s a kind of illness that makes it hard to control your thoughts and emotions. This is totally normal for someone going through it.” 

“It’s not just that,” she protested. “I still miss Razor, despite everything he did! I can’t help it!” 

“He was your brother,” Oddstripe said. “It’s understandable. It’s horrible that things had to end the way they did.” He swallowed thickly. 

“But I shouldn’t feel this way,” Mystique cried. “I should be happy right? Everyone else is happy!”

“You can’t help how you feel,” Oddstripe shook his head a bit. “You just feel it. And that’s alright.” Mystique sobbed harder. The pretender shuffled his paws a bit before starting to run his tongue through her fur. She flopped over without resistance and he sat down to groom her pelt. Her mind was swarming with disgusted thoughts - disgust with herself, with Oddstripe, even with Russetfrond. 

You’re such a burden. Look at you, forcing this cat to waste time taking care of your sorry self. They should just bury you alive. Things would be easier if you just melted into the grass and became part of the ground. Does anyone even miss you back home? Your Folk have probably replaced you already. What’s the point in going back at all? 

Still, when Oddstripe was done, she rolled over to let him get to the other side and after that she let him stand her up and lick the tears from her face. 

“It’s gonna be alright,” he said softly. “I know things are hard right now but you will be happy again. I think we should start with a daily walk, is that alright?” Mystique simply shrugged so he continued, “Okay, well, let me know if it isn’t. I think this will be good for you in the long run.” 

He wrapped his tail around her leg again and they set off through the grass. There wasn’t a destination, it seemed. They looped around in a big circle and headed back towards the camp and somehow, by the end of the walk, Mystique was starting to feel better. The prospect of going back in to that den was dampening the mood but she was surprised she had managed to have the feeling at all. 

“Alright, here you go,” Oddstripe said as they returned to the elders’ den. “Why don’t you sit outside for a bit and eat something while I make sure the girls are done with your bedding?” 

“‘Kay,” Mystique shrugged and sat down beside Sparrowsway who had sat up to attention. Oddstripe trotted over to the prey pile and fetched her a tasty looking fish then slipped into the den while she started eating. 

“How’s it going in here?” she heard him ask. 

“Good,” said Barleybee. “The boys are starting to get restless though.” 

“They’ll be alright for a little longer,” said Oddstripe. “Is the nest all clean, girls?” 

“Mhm!” chirped Fogpaw. 

“Is Mystique gonna be alright?” Slatepaw said very softly. Mystique perked her ears to listen. 

“Yes, she will be,” Oddstripe said in a similarly hushed tone. “She just needs rest and time and compassion.” 

“Why is she sad in the first place?” said Fogpaw, sounding like she was frowning.

“Because things are very hard for her right now,” Oddstripe answered. “It’s complicated, dear. We just need to be kind with her, okay?”

“Okay,” the apprentices said together. 

“Now hurry up and take the rest of this out,” said Oddstripe. “Mystique needs her space.” There was a bit of shuffling and the apprentices quickly emerged from the den. Both of them cast wide eyes her way as they passed, although Fogpaw still had that unsettling blank expression on her face. Mystique dropped her gaze and focused on finishing her meal quickly and the apprentices quickly hurried off. 

When she was just about finished, she heard pawsteps approaching again and looked up to see Fogpaw staring at her once more. 

“Can I have those fish bones?” asked the little silvery tabby. Mystique didn’t know what she had been expecting her to ask but that certainly wasn’t it. 

“Um… Sure,” she shrugged. Fogpaw beamed and pounced on the mostly eaten fish to gather the sharp little bones together. 

“Don’t worry,” said Fogpaw as she struggled to keep them all in her mouth at once, “you’ll feel better soon, I promise.” Mystique raised a brow at that but said nothing. Fogpaw turned away without any further explanation and headed for the top of the hill. 

“Doing alright?” asked Oddstripe, poking his head out curiously. 

Mystique nodded slowly as she stood. “Yeah, uh, coming.” She padded inside, already feeling the oppressive energy washing away the bits of a bright sunny mood she had built up while she ate. At least, she thought, the nest was fresh and soft and there were plenty of feathers lining the edges. Barleybee passed the mewling kittens over to Oddstripe who set them down next to Mystique’s belly and urged them to nurse. She sighed in resignation and dropped her head onto her paws to sulk again. 

“Just call if you need anything,” Oddstripe said. “I’ll come get you for another walk tomorrow, alright?”

“Yeah, okay,” Mystique shrugged. That was something to look forward to at least.

[lynzishell]

The Present 🤍 San Myshuno

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Transcript below the cut:

Atlas: Hi, sorry we’re late. Dawn: Oh no, you’re fine, we’re running behind too. Where’s Ash? Atlas: He’ll be up in a minute. He’s just walking Jasper. Dawn: Well, come in here, I want you to meet my friend.

Dawn: Li, this is my brother, Atlas. Li: It’s great to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you. Atlas: Likewise.

Atlas: [offscreen] Oh, and that’s my partner, Asher, and his dog, Jasper. Asher: Hi [waves as he unleashes Jasper] Hope it’s okay that I brought him. Dawn: [offscreen] Of course. Everything okay? Asher: Yeah, just spending as much time with him as I can before we leave. It’ll be the longest I’ve ever been away, huh buddy.

Dawn: Aw, he’s going to miss you. So, will we. Atlas: Not this again. You act like we’ve never been apart. Dawn: I know, but it’s so far away. Just be sure to text me when you arrive so I know you made it safe. Atlas: I will.

Atlas: [offscreen] Where’s Aspen? Dawn: [offscreen] She’s playing in her room with Mei. Actually, do you mind getting them? I think dinner will be ready soon. Atlas: [offscreen] Sure.

Li: So, where are you going? Asher: Selvadorada. Li: Really? Oh, that’s such a dream of mine. I bet you’re so excited. Asher: Very. We’ve been trying to get away for so long, it’s hard to believe we’re finally going. Dawn: I’m still surprised Atlas was willing to take this much time away from work. Asher: He hasn’t told you?

Dawn: Told me what? Atlas: I was going to tell her after we got back. Asher: Oops. Dawn: What’s going on?

Aspen: Dada! Phoenix: There you are. Are you gonna be my taste tester? Aspen: Taste!

Phoenix: Alright, c’mere.

Dawn: You’re quitting your job? Atlas: Yep. We both are. We’re using up all our vacation time for this trip and then putting in our notice when we get back. Dawn: Wh- Why? Asher: We’re gonna get back to working on our game, full-time, and finally finish it. Dawn: That’s incredible. I’m so excited for you. Atlas: Really?  Dawn: Yes! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.

[us-the-batfam-blog]

Connor: *randomly gets an incredibly strong craving of iron*

Connor: what the actual fuck why does this caste iron pan smell so fucking good *grabs caste iron pan*

Lex: CONNER I SWEAR TO YOU I WILL THROW KRYPTONITE IN YOUR FACE IF YOU TRY AND TAKE A BITE OUT OF THE KENT’S PAN.

Connor: it smells so fucking good, how.. how does it smell so good?

Lex: YOUR ANEMIC I WAS ABOUT TO TELL YOU!

Connor: really?

Lex: I guess since your half kryptonian you got Superman’s penance to consume metal, ugh. Connor: wait what?

Lex: I have solid iron and steel rods here somewhere come with me and I’ll give them to you, so you won’t eat the Kent’s mid century caste iron pan.

Lex grabs a bunch of steel and iron rods

Lex: I noticed that Superman does like steel as well so here you go child. Eat iron, I guess *sigh* this is not what I wanted in this life.

Connor: *comps on an iron rod* whoa, this is chewy. And doesn’t taste bad?

Lex: son eat iron and steel i don’t care, bye. Connor: wait your going already?

Lex: the Kent’s hate my guts, if you want to fight them be my guest but I’d rather leave. *takes a blood sample* see you in a fortnight.

Connor: YOU CANNOT JUST RANDOMLY TAKE MY BLOOD

Lex: … your DNA can DISSOLVE let me do my tests

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[winxanity-ii]

⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 13 Chapter 13 | quiet rush⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

Bambi-sensei, a round, cheerful woman with the unmistakably floppy ears of a deer mutant, beamed at you. "____, darling! You're a lifesaver! This presentation file... well, let's just say it wouldn't have made it through the next period without you." Her voice, a gentle coo, was the exact opposite of the cold, calculating thoughts swirling in your head.

You offered a polite bow, a practiced smile still plastered on your face. "It was no issue at all, Bambi-sensei. Happy to help." The words tasted like ash in your mouth.

With a final chipper, "Doe-lightful! Thank you so much, dear! Now, run along to lunch. You must be famished!" Bambi-sensei bustled back into the staff room, the door swinging shut with a soft thud.

You stood there for a beat, the mask you wore for the world finally slipping.

The smile vanished, replaced by a deep scowl. Your eyes, usually sparkling with manufactured cheer, morphed into black voids, an endless spiral of darkness reflecting your true nature.

The solitude of the empty hallway was your sanctuary. No need for the relentless act; no need to charm, manipulate, or pretend to be something you weren't.

In the quiet emptiness, you could simply be yourself—a powerful entity with plans far grander than fitting in with a bunch of superhero wannabes.

Glancing at a nearby clock on the wall, you noted the lunch break was quickly dwindling.

Lunch.

Usually, you'd already be eating in the cafeteria by now, but Kan-sensei had snagged you before homeroom ended, delegating a few last-minute representative tasks. A small price to pay, you suppose, for a moment of solitude.

This stolen time was precious—a chance to strategize your next move, to unravel the mysteries of this world, and to see how it could serve your ultimate purpose.

But for now, you allowed yourself a fleeting moment of indulgence, letting your mind drift back to the indigo-haired boy you'd met not long ago.

Since your encounter, you'd caught fleeting glimpses of him around the school, his disheveled, purple hair and matching eyes like a beacon in the sea of U.A. uniforms.

You even managed to formally introduce yourself—a calculated move, of course, fueled by a growing curiosity about his Quirk.

His name was Shinso Hitoshi, a student in General Studies Class C.

When you'd first learned this, a question had snagged in your mind. His Quirk, mind control through spoken words, seemed powerful—not entirely dissimilar to your own abilities, yet here he was, relegated to a class considered less prestigious.

The answer came swiftly, however, when a few students had sauntered by as you and Shinso spoke, their faces contorted in disgust. A harsh hiss of "villain" scraping past your ears as they hurried away.

This pissed you off.

The blatant prejudice against "villainous" Quirks, regardless of their potential for good, were seemingly pre-labeled.

You scoffed—the hero system here seemed as flawed as the one you left behind. Here, power was categorized into neat little boxes of "good" and "evil," ignoring the complexities that lay within.

Villains were villains simply because their Quirks were deemed unsuitable for heroism, even if those Quirks could be incredibly useful. It was a nonsensical system, one you couldn't quite wrap your head around.

After all, no one chose the Quirk they were born with.

But the real sting came from the similarity between your power and Shinso's Quirk.

The whispered insults directed at him felt like a personal attack. Shinso, someone with such a powerful and versatile ability, would let himself be ostracized and relegated to a "lesser" class because of societal prejudice filled you with disgust.

The very idea of him limiting himself because of the opinions of individuals you regarded as even lower than bugs was infuriating.

A sudden, piercing blare ripped you from your thoughts.

The school security alarm shrieked to life, its automated voice declaring, "There has been a Level 3 security breach. All students and faculty are to evacuate to designated safe zones immediately!"

You don't react; you simply continue your pace.

As you rounded the corner, a figure barreled into you, the force sending you both spiraling to the ground. A startled gasp escaped your lips, and for a split second, your eyes widened in a flash of a primal, terrifyingly cold fury.

You almost forgot yourself—power practically bubbling beneath your skin, screaming to tear apart the bug that dared touch you.

In a second, your practiced smile slips back on your face, your eyes sparkling with manufactured concern. "Oh my gosh, are you alright?" But as you took in the figure you collided with, the practiced smile began to crack.

This wasn't a UA student; no uniform adorned their form.

This intruder, the cause of the apparent security breach, was unlike anything you'd ever seen before. The figure was shrouded in a dark hoodie, pulled low over their head, obscuring their face completely.

You barely had a chance to take in their shadowy form before they let out a gruff sound, a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. They scrambled to their feet and brushed past you, their movements purposeful and urgent.

Everything about them screamed "up to no good," and despite the blaring alarm and the undeniable threat this intruder posed, you made no move to stop them, nor did you question their motives.

You weren't here to play hero, not today at least.

A sardonic smile played on your lips for a fleeting moment.

This unexpected turn of events—a security breach at UA? Now this was entertainment!

Before you could even blink, the halls were flooded with students. Panic surged through the crowd as everyone scrambled for the nearest exit, pushing past one another in a desperate bid to escape.

The once-orderly hallway dissolved into a cacophony of shouts, shoving, and the ever-present wail of the alarm. It grated on your nerves.

Here you were, in a supposed hero school, surrounded by students who were literally training to be heroes, and yet, the first sign of trouble sent them into a mindless panic.

Idiots.

Their fear was a tangible thing—a thick fog of chaos that clogged the narrow corridor.

It did nothing but cause problems, especially for you.

Caught in the surging tide of bodies, you were squished against a nearby wall; your front was pressed tightly against the cold plaster. The press of humanity was suffocating, stealing the air from your lungs. Your arms were pinned at your sides, useless.

You tried to yell, to scream at them to calm down, but your voice was a mere squeak lost in the deafening roar.

Frustration bubbled within you, a bitter counterpoint to the rising panic.

This blind terror was exactly why you weren't here to play hero.

These students, so eager to wear the hero's mantle, couldn't even control their basic instincts in the face of a threat.

Pathetic.

Just as you felt yourself reaching your limit, on the verge of exposing everything by using your power to control the crowd and restore order, a shadow fell over you.

The relentless shoves and pushes ceased abruptly, replaced by a comforting sense of solidity. Relief washed over you as you looked up to see a figure towering above you.

A pair of mismatched eyes, one icy blue and the other a smoky grey, stared down at you with a bored expression. The figure was a moderately tall and well-built boy, his age evident in the slight leanness to his muscles. His short hair brushed his neck in an perfect, ordly fashion, a stark contrast to the controlled chaos unfolding around you.

It was strangely split down the middle, one side a snowy white and the other a fiery crimson—an unusual color combination that probably hinted at something extraordinary. A stark burn scar ran down the left side of his face, reaching from his hairline to halfway down his cheek.

Recognition clawed at the back of your mind.

You cast your memory back, searching for the name that constantly popped up in Bakugo's tirades as you walked home together (a self-imposed duty you'd undertaken). The explosive blond had spat out the name "Icy Hot" with a sneer.

You vaguely recalled him mentioning it was the nickname he gave to some rival student named Todoroki in his class.

This wasn't just any student; he's apparently one of the top students in Class 1-A—even got in through recommendations.

You were jolted out of your thoughts as another harsh shove from the panicked crowd sent you crashing back against the wall, this time with your face pressed into the cold plaster. A muffled grunt escaped your lips, momentarily forgotten behind the growing surge of piercing anger.

However, the pressure immediately eased. You felt the firm press of muscle against your back as your 'pseudo shield' held himself a few inches away, creating a slight pocket of space for you to breathe.

He continued to shield you from the worst of the pushing throng, his bored expression unchanging.

The cacophony around you slowly began to dwindle as the crowd shuffled towards the designated exits. The blaring alarm still cut through the air, but with less urgency.

Taking a deep breath, you straightened your clothes, the awkward situation momentarily forgotten. "Thank you," you offered, turning towards your unlikely savior with a polite bow. Your practiced smile returned, albeit a little strained from the ordeal. "I appreciate you for... intervening."

Now that the immediate crisis had passed, it was time to establish some semblance of normalcy.

With your usual gentle smile in place, you extended your hand towards Todoroki. "Before we depart, I should introduce myself. I'm Akuma ____."

He gave a curt nod, his mismatched eyes lingering on you for a fleeting moment before flicking back to the dispersing crowd. "Todoroki Shoto," he confirmed in a monotone voice, devoid of any warmth.

You hummed in acknowledgement, a spark of interest igniting within you. You knew of the top pro-hero, Endeavor, mostly due to his hulking frame and blazing flames that reminded you so much of the pet hellhound, Cerberus, you had back in Hell.

Could this Todoroki be related to him?

This Todoroki, with his unusual hair and powerful Quirk, was definitely someone to keep an eye on. Mentally making a note to file him away for further investigation, you offered another grateful nod.

Just as you turned to leave, his voice stopped you. "Wait," Todoroki's voice was barely a murmur, almost lost in the fading clamor of the hallway.

You turned back, raising an eyebrow in question. "Yes, Todoroki-kun?"

He hesitated for a moment, his brow furrowed in an uncharacteristic display of confusion. "Izuku... and even Bakugo," he began, his voice low and hesitant, "they talk about you a lot."

"Oh?" you replied, a hint of amusement flickering in your eyes.

Midoriya's talking about you? Now that was a surprise. You'd expected much from your pet—in passing, of course—so you couldn't help but imagine what the hero-obsessed boy had to say.

"Being mentioned so often by strong students, can only mean one thing..." Todoroki continued, his voice gaining a hint of conviction, "...You're stronger than them both."

You stifled a laugh at his declaration. The idea of Bakugo and Midoriya being the benchmarks for strength seemed almost comical.

Here you were, someone who could manipulate entire crowds with a thought, and yet they were the ones considered strong? Hilarious.

But you kept your amusement hidden, tilting your head in mock contemplation and tapping a finger against your lips.

"Stronger, huh?" you finally hummed, your voice laced with a playful ambiguity. "I suppose you'll just have to wait and see, Todoroki-kun."

With that, you offered a final smile before turning and disappearing into the throng of students, leaving Todoroki with more questions than answers.

A/N: the way i just wrote several chapters out of order is insane. guess i couldnt wait for the exciting parts 😂😂 so yeah, ignore if a lil detail don't add up in any future chapters🥴 anywho, short chapter today, but tomorrow will malke up for it, it'll be a little longer ❤️

[blueandberryyy]

Kindergarten Boyfriend

Y/N's gang

childe x fem!reader

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Y/N: Recent college grad, started lakelight in college with her two besties, yoimiya and ayaka. Plays keys,  writes songs, and sometimes plays guitar too. Grew up in Snezhnaya, where she went to kindergarten. Moved to Inazuma the next year, where she met Yoimiya and Ayaka. The girls quickly grew close, and Ayaka eventually convinced Y/N and Yoimiya to learn instruments. Y/N learned piano, and the first time they performed together was in a grade school talent show. They all went to college in Fontaine together. The three of them are living together in a shared home. Hopeless romantic, and constantly requires a little drink. Also terribly clumsy.

Ayaka: Lead singer, and guitar for Lakelight. Met Yoimiya and Y/N when they were kids. Ayaka grew up pretty sheltered, so moving away to college was a bit of a shock. Biggest partier in the group, handles their alcohol the best, somehow the most responsible, and always looks presentable. She’s somewhat used to media attention due to her family’s wealth and status. Still, the most genuine, sweet person you will ever meet. Is always looking out for others, and is often the first person to notice when someone is going through something. She convinced the girls to learn to play instruments for a talent show in grade school. Also a hopeless romantic, hopes to find the one. excellent cook.

Yoimiya: Drummer for lakelight. The loud one in the friend group, bubbly, easily excitable. Fascinated by fire, explosions, fireworks. The matches at the house are all hidden so she doesn’t set the place on fire. Graduated with a major in chemistry and a minor in music production. When Ayaka convinced them all to learn instruments, Yoimiya chose the drums. After starting, she learned that they helped her get out excess energy, and actually became pretty beneficial. It may have been Ayaka’s idea to learn instruments, but it was Yoimiya’s idea to form a band in highschool. Before Clorinde became their manager, Yoimiya was usually the one finding gigs for them at random bars or parties. loves animals, random animals are always finding her.

Navia: Owner of Cafe Rosula, dating clorinde. Mom of the group. Always taste testing her new recipes on the group. Met Ayaka when she was TA’ing a culinary class Ayaka was in. After she helped Ayaka out with some assignments, Ayaka invited her to a board game night, and they’ve all been friends ever since. Started dating Clorinde in her 4th year of college. After graduation, they moved in together. Loves learning, and helping others learn, so she started monthly cooking classes at her cafe. Her door is always open, any time of day. She’s incredibly curious, some may even call her nosy. Loves to spill the tea. Always prepared for almost any scenario.

Clorinde: Manager and producer for lakelight, met Y/N, Yoimiya and Ayaka in her 3rd year of college in a music production class. They all got assigned to a group project together. After the project was over, Clorinde invited them over to play tabletop  games. Ayaka brought her friend, Navia. That night, a lifelong friendship began - and between Clorinde and Navia, romance. In their 4th year of college, they started dating. Fondly called the moms of the group. Clorinde loves board games, card games, and she even dabbles in video games. Passion for music production, and a serious business sense to follow. Secret sweet tooth fed by her girlfriend’s cafe. Has a bad case of rbf, and is on the introverted side. 

.•¨*•. ☆ .•*¨•..•¨*•. ☆ .•*¨•..•¨`•. ☆.•¨*•. ☆ .•*¨•..•¨*•.

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timestamps dont matter unless otherwise specified

a/n: yayayay first batch of profiles! still figuring out my upload schedule honestly. anywayyyyy 5.1 is out! anyone pulling for xilonen? i am... not a fan of her design so I'm skipping lol.

[nomatterwhatnomatterwhere]

What a (Not so) Strange World XVI

A.N: Soo, uhm, will you believe me if I told you that I thought I had already updated this chapter? Because that's exactly what happened. I feel stupid. Like, a lot. I was soo sure I had done it - and I thought nobody actually read it or like it - so when I went to update the next part ( what a spoiler wow) I was flabbergasted. I would really like to blame it on my adhd but honestly, I've had a lot of things going on and I simply forgot.

All this to say I'm sorry for being late? yep, but also because I like to be dramatic - difficult to notice I know -

Anyway... uhm... I'm not really sure on how I feel about this chapter, there are things I really like and others there are just ...meh, could be better, so let me know what do you think

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Pomfiore Dorm was really beautiful, architecturally speaking, giving you a sense of calm and order that you haven't felt in a while. Maybe to some people it might have come across as a little tacky or snobby, but not to you.

Whoever had decorated the place had good taste: everything was perfect, not one thing too many. Everything in the right place

It made sense Vil was part of this dormitory, at least on a purely aesthetic level.

( After all, you knew firsthand that despite Vil's perhaps somewhat brusque manner, he was not just a beautiful face) .

Finding Rook had not been difficult, although you suspected that when he wanted to he knew very well how to go unnoticed-he had the air of a hunter after all.

Hearing that the people of this world also thought him a peculiar individual made you smile.

An odd duck, Riddle had said, and you knew it was a figure of speech, but remembering your first encounter with the older boy, that was not the animal that came to mind.

It reminded you more of a hunting feline

“Whoa. That dude's like a glitter bomb in human form.”

You did not venture to bring up the subject, but following Ace's statement you found yourself wondering if he was talking about Rook, Vil, or the lovely boy who was with them.

To your eyes they all shone. They were almost blinding if you looked at them too much.

In fact, however, everyone in this dormitory was incredibly beautiful.

You were distant from the trio, so you didn't understand what they were talking about, but you were pretty sure Rook had noticed you.

You were also sure from what you knew about him that he was the person you needed for your plan to begin.

When the others nodded at the idea that he probably would not be the target and that it was best to keep looking you took a step back, announcing that you would stay there a little longer and join them as soon as you finished.

You also warned them to let you know their location, the last time you had split up you had found them again by sheer luck .

They didn't ask why you wanted to stay behind, just a few uncertain glances, but Riddle asked you in turn to let them know when you were finished doing what you had to do.

Rook's smile had widened slightly when he had seen you approach them; you were about to speak, but his Roi de Poison anticipated you

“Has anyone ever told you that it's rude to show up uninvited?”

You tilted your head, and smiled faintly

“I am aware of that, but I have a very good reason for doing so, so I hope you will excuse my rudeness.”

A few minutes of silence had passed in which you and Vil simply stared at each other, as if you were having a conversation behind closed doors before the Housewarden sighed and you took a seat in one of the lounge chairs.

“I'll only take a few minutes of your time” you took a sigh “In the first place I have to apologize, I may have made some of your housemates uncomfortable, but you should let them know that not all wrongs are dealt with at Duel, also … I may have told them that we are friends and implied to them that if they really tried to duel with me you might be offended…I apologize for bringing you into that conversation…but that's not why I'm disturbing your…tea time” you turned your gaze straight to Rook ” Could you help me find someone? ”

You did not doubt Cater's ability to find information, the info he had retrieved about the Spelldrive players was plenty and well curated, but you needed something else.

From what little you knew about him, Rook always seemed to know what was going on, and the words he told you later were just confirmation of that

“Am I to assume it's about the recent incidents of Spelldrive players?”

He had squinted his eyes and smiled, like a cat who found a funny game in another situation his actions would have made you hugely uncomfortable, but in that case, that was the answer you wanted.

With Rook's help it was very easy to find the information you needed, you were so happy you almost bounced on the spot.

You thanked Rook and apologized again to the other two for interrupting their tea time - or whatever they were doing

Vil excused you, reminding you about your previous appointment which you smiled about because there was no way you would forget something like that

( He didn't need to know that you had mentioned it to Yuu only a few hours earlier).

He also let you know that he would inform Jack to be careful-thus letting you know that he too was a Spelldrive player for Savana Claw-if that was okay with you, which you thanked him for, since you had not yet had a chance to meet your childhood friend.

Back in the Hall of Mirror you were elated, you wanted to stay grounded but it was really hard to do that.

You had asked Rook who he thought might have the most interest in winning even by playing dirty. He had given you a few names, some even from his own dormitory, but he also pointed out that many of them didn't have the skills to not get caught if they tried to cheat

When you asked if there were any really difficult players to beat it was Vil who replied

“Diasomnia Housewarden. The Headmaster even proposed to induct him into the hall of fame, so that the gamefield would be even. We rejected it.”

That was important information, crucial in a way, and you were grateful Vil shared it.

If this Malleus was that good you had no doubt he would be a likely target, but it wasn't just that.

“Who suffered most from his presence on the field?”

It was the little boy who answered you, although maybe he really wasn't? He had whispered a “Savana Claw” that you had had trouble understanding, and you were sitting next to him.

Both Vil and Rook, however, had heard it, you knew it from the rising edges of Rook's lips and Vil's side-eye, but neither of them denied the statement

“Roi de Leon has really been terribly unlucky. The last few years Savana Claw has always been matched against Diasomnia, and they have always lost” he had shaken his head, almost sighing ” A real shame.”

“Leona though is the one who first opposed the Headmaster idea” nodded to the information.

Now that you had a somewhat broader picture of the situation you needed only to ascertain a couple more things: the components of the Spelldrive teams , with a focus on Savana Claw, and their Unique Magic.

Vil had told you that the teams' rosters had been delivered to Octavinelle's Housewarden -- Trein and Crewel had also mentioned his name to you that morning actually -- but that you needed to be very careful about what you told him

That had scared you a little bit. If you had to pay attention to the words you used did it mean that this student was a fae? Because otherwise you couldn't explain all the attention you had to pay to what you were saying.

But from what you understood the Fae attended Diasomnia Dorm, which made sense if that was the Maleficent-inspired Dorm.

Octavinelle was the Sea Witch's Dorm, you didn't see the connection between the two

( It had completely escaped your mind how famous the Sea Witch was for her pacts and her way of bending the rules.)

Just before you passed through the portal to that dormitory a message from Cay alerted you to how Riddle was returning to do his 'Housewarden duties' while the rest of them headed to the Savana Claw Dorm

You replied that you were almost finished and would meet them there.

You were really relieved there was Cater with the others, at least that way you avoided worrying about the possible trouble the whole early years gang could get into,

It was a given that Octavinelle Dorm was underwater, but you hadn't given it a second thought.

As you passed through the portal you felt yourself run out of air for a few moments and your body stiffen for a few moments before you realized that you were back to breathing normally.

You asked where you could find the Housewarden, and despite a few odd looks, worried perhaps, some students directed you to what was the Mostro Lounge

It looked like a nice place, but the lights were off so you assumed it was closed.

Too bad you couldn't wait until opening time :you knocked a couple of times before a guy who didn't look much older than you came to open the door.

He was…particularly elegant, and definitely exuded a certain aura, but it was nowhere near the aura of Mister Fae or that of Maleficent ( or even that of Frau Grimihilde or Madame Tremaine)

Perhaps, if you hadn't had so much contact with the Fae, the person in front of you might have intimidated you, after all, he seemed like someone who always knew what to say- knew what he wanted-but unfortunately for him you were used to being around people who gave off a certain aura so his presence didn't intimidate you as much as it might have.

In fact, he didn't even intimidate you, but he definitely seemed like someone who demanded a certain amount of respect

“I regret to inform you that the Monster Lounge is not yet open. I must inv-”

“It doesn't matter. I'm looking for Azul…I was told to come here…?”

He had looked at you, scrutinized you, before letting you in, with a smile you could only describe as polite.

The lights were dim, but they gave off enough light to admire the place: the Mostro Lounge really looked like a classy place, you would have loved to come here-if it wasn't underwater of course.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” his voice was faux-sweet, faux-gentle, as if he wanted to set a tone and at the same time appear a certain way ”I am Azul Ashengrotto. I am Octavinelle's Housewarden and the head of the Mostro Lounge.”

You passed the Lounge to cross the threshold of what used to be the V.I.P. Room-that's what the plaque on the door said-but you were convinced it was Azul's study.

The Lounge was elegant, but this room did not even look like it was part of the school (it looked more like the presidency than the presidency).

He sat down on one of the sofas, inviting you to do the same.

“How can I help you? Do you needs help with the upcoming final exams because….”

“Oh, nothing like that” You didn't know why he thought you needed help with exams, but perhaps it was a request he was often asked "My grades are pretty good, but thanks for the offer."

“Then how can I help you? I'll make sure to be as helpful as I can.” His smile was friendly and you could read a glimmer of interest in his gaze.

It was the first real thing you sensed about him.

“I've been told you have the roaster of the Spelldrive team” you mirrored his smile, tilting your head slightly as he nodded slowly ” I need them.”

Auzul seemed taken aback for a few seconds, before coming back to hi senses

“May I know why do you need them?”

“You may not” Vil's warnings had not left your mind for a moment ”So? Can I have them?”

He looked at you, adjusting his glasses, before replying

“You have to understand” the friendly tone had slipped slightly, giving way to a more serious tone ” They're my responsibility, I can't just give them to you just because you need them. Furthermore I don't even know what you're going to do once you have them. What if you cast a spell on them?”

Oh sure, who knows you might have decided to set them on fire. What a great loss

“Let's say it's confidential information.” You saw his smile sharpen,you had captured his interest .

Now you had to hope that was enough

Omake Vil had had to modify his skin routine that evening. He was absolutely irritated. Not only had you not looked him in the eye as you informed him of the unbecoming behavior engaged in by his dorm mates, but you also seemed extremely embarrassed at having him--you thought--indirectly involved.

Why? He didn't understand. It was his job to intervene in such cases; you had done well.

You thought he did not want to be associated with you. That was the only solution.

And it irritated him.

Taglist: @jessiegerl, @mewchiili

( As always, let me know if you wanna be tagged )

Diveders by @sweetmelodygraphics

[ivystoryweaver]

Decadent chapter 13

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Summary: A passionate night together leads Miguel to accepting your darkest desires...and giving in to his own

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Content: nsfw, 18+, unprotected p in v, creampie, biting, scratching, blood consumption, multiple orgasms, overstim, reader is consensually incapacitated and her body used, bondage, oral - f. rec, face sitting, aftercare, not beta'd

PREVIOUSLY on Decadent...

"You're sure? You're okay with...what we just did - when I cut you and..."

"And scratched me and sucked me and drank my blood?" You shrugged one shoulder, easing your thighs across his lap. "I can see how it sounds when you say it out loud," you admitted, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Maybe it's you who needs to accept the monster in me."

Since you and Miguel made things official, you had grown quite comfortable sleeping on top of his massive chest.

It wasn’t that you spent every night together. He still disappeared most weekends....which you finally asked him about.

"I promise I'll tell you soon," he swore, so earnestly you couldn't find it without yourself to doubt him. "It's...a lot to take in."

Accepting his word as a sign of trust, a part of you still wondered if you were naive. Perhaps Miguel spent weekends galavanting with a secret family (or something equally horrible.) Your neighbor/friend Gwen teemed with sordid suggestions.

But you loved him. Your heart won out and you made a deal with yourself, agreeing to give him a little more time to explain.

Work in the lab continued, as did a search for a cure for Miguel's blood addiction/weakness. In the mean time, Miguel drank your blood, rather than get as weak and as sick (and irritable) as the last couple months.

At first, he insisted that you draw blood in the lab, but after spending several nights with you, his baser cravings grew too powerful to resist. Using his talons, he would scratch marks into your supple skin and drink from fresh wounds. Burying himself deep inside you while he drank elevated the pleasure exponentially for you both.

Which is where you found yourself right now.

The two of you barely stumbled into his penthouse apartment after work before he tore your panties (again) and stuffed thick fingers inside you. That was well over an hour ago.

Now, he rested against the headboard of the bed, his thick, muscular thighs stretched out along the mattress. Seeing this god of a man stretched naked especially for you never ceased to thrill.

Tipping his chin up only slightly, he beckoned you wordlessly toward him, patting his lap invitingly.

Wetting your lips, you eyed him hungrily, climbing obediently, spreading your slick thighs on either side of his legs, teasing his cock with your sopping cunt - your slick and his spend leaking out of you from the previous round.

"How are you hard again?" You giggled, pushing your fingers up over the breadth of his shoulders before tasting his lips one at a time.

"Mmm...told you. Superhuman stamina," he murmured, licking hotly into your mouth. Powerful hands gripped your hips as he tried to slip inside you again. "I didn't wear you out, did I?" He teased.

"No way," you fired back, easing off his lap to turn away from him. Before could grumble out a protest, you sank down on his thick cock, rotating your hips, riding him in reverse, your back arching in rapture.

"Fuck, you feel good honey," he groaned, his jaw going slack at the sight of your eager body ready to fuck him so good after he'd taken your body all evening. Talons extended to tauntingly scrape along the delicious curve of your back before sliding up your sides to cup your soft mounds. Taking the weight of your breasts in his palms, he fondled you gently, helping you move your lithe body against him. You purred in satisfaction as his thumbs brushed your hardened nipples.

Your drenched, slippery cunt felt incredible to Miguel, but you wanted more friction. With a slight whine, you rocked your hips faster, pushing up on your knees and dropping down hard until you found a vigorous rhythm bouncing on his cock.

"Faster?" He taunted against your neck. You could feel him smirking.

"Harder," you panted. "Fuck me hard. Need more."

Miguel growled out an incoherent response, gripping your hips and using his superhuman strength to work you over his length, slamming you down over and over again.

His appetite for blood had returned to normal, so starvation and weakness no longer plagued him. But this...hours on end in bed together - he was dying to sink his teeth into your flesh - despite having sworn he never would again.

"Miguel, harder," you whined, even as your sounds of pleasure ascended embarrassingly loudly. "Faster, please. I need...I need..."

He knew. He felt it too. You both craved the deep, primal, monstrous connection that had formed between you so early on.

Yes, he was certain of exactly what you wanted.

"I'm hungry," he groaned, fingers sliding around your throat. Roughly grabbing your jaw from behind, he tilted your head to one side, exposing more of the smooth skin of your neck.

He was fucking you so deep, but now - the possibilities made you wild with desire. “Please, Miguel. You can taste me.”

Damn. That was probably going to upset him. You'd promised not to ask him.

He dragged a talon across the side of your neck, growling as a sprinkling of blood sprang from your soft, sweat-soaked skin.

You felt the warmth of his tongue, wishing he would give in and sink his fangs into your flesh.

Unsure if Miguel gave into his cravings or if his fang slipped and sliced you - you felt that familiar pain and your heart both soared and sank. Because he would surely stop, horrified.

His massive chest rumbled with a hungry moan so powerful, you felt his deep satisfaction vibrate through your whole body.

“It’s okay, baby,” you panted, reaching blindly behind you to card your fingers through his thick waves. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Need you so much, Miguel.”

He apparently passed the point of needing permission, squeezing your throat a to the point of pain. However, the elation of him drinking you, the delicious pressure on your throat, the brutal slam of his cock plowing you so deep inside had you shrieking in pleasure as your walls clenched around him, your body rocked with a powerful orgasm that made you tremble and shudder against him.

Right as your pleasure crested and started to subside, you felt his fangs pierce your neck, fully. This was no accident and there was no turning back.

Lips sucked as his tongue laved ravenously, drinking until the venom in his fangs weakened you into a limp doll.

Lightheaded from blood loss, you slumped over.

Miguel laid you gently down, staring, conflicted, at the wounds in your neck, oozing with life-giving blood. Yet his cock twitched, aching for another release.

Gripping your thighs, he spread you apart, running his tongue along his fangs to collect excess blood.

“Fuck you’re pretty for me like this, muñeca,” he panted, recalling the sounds of you begging for this night after night.

Even if he punished himself for it later, you loved when he used you like this. It felt so wrong that you somehow craved it. You couldn't feel him fucking you, but his loss of control as he got off using your body - you wanted it. You only hoped he wouldn't back down.

His massive chest heaved as crimson eyes darkened lustfully. With his grip on you firm, he thrust inside your pliable, bleeding, paralyzed body with one deep stroke.

He molded you like a doll, like his dirty little toy. The languid, loose weight of your lifeless limbs added pressure as he pushed in and out of you.

“I could do anything to you and you’d let me. I know you want it. Want me to use you.” Lifting one of your limp legs over his shoulder, he groaned as your head lolled to the side, your vacant eyes unable to meet his.

You were spread so wide from him - soaked from endless hours together - of his cum and your slick heat. His balls slapped messily against your cunt as he fucked you so deep… he knew you would be sore tomorrow but he couldn’t find it in him to slow down.

When he was close, he pulled out of you - not that you could feel it - before jerking himself and spilling all over your breasts and your neck, leaving you a used-up, lifeless, fucked out mess. Panting harshly, he admired his handiwork, eyes raking over your beautifully ruined body, covered in his spend from your jaw down to your knees.

He didn’t even ask permission before reaching for his phone to take your picture. Not that you could protest in this position, but the thought that he wanted to remember you as his ruined, used toy made you fucking feral.

Flopping down on the mattress, Miguel tried to catch his breath for a moment. Even with his stamina - the exhilaration of finally feeding on you again was overwhelming.

After a few moments, he gathered your sweat and cum covered body into his arms and took you to the bathroom. Holding you gently, he ran a bath, adding some oils and salts before easing into the luxury garden tub with you.

He cradled you in his arms sideways, with your cheek laying against his chest.

By now, the paralytic was wearing off and you could feel the pain of the wounds in your throat. You hissed as the warm water stung the scrapes and bite you had sustained.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, starting to carefully wash you.

"Don't - " you started, but he hushed you.

"I'm not sorry for what we did," he clarified, brushing his fingers over your cheek as he gazed into your eyes. "I'm only sorry that the water stings."

You slowly nodded. "It felt good, Miguel. It's been so long. I wanted it so bad. Don’t be mad."

"I’m not mad, baby," he assured you, touching his forehead to yours.

You let out a sigh of blissful contentedness. "Feels so good."

A chuckle rumbled in his godlike chest. “Even when you can’t feel anything because you’re paralyzed?”

Gazing deeply into his eyes, you wet your lips before kissing him softly. “Remember, I’m the monster here,” you whispered against his mouth. “I…crave those things. I want you to bite me and use me. Fuck, it makes me want you so much.”

With that confession, you slipped your tongue into his mouth, hand blindly grasping in the warm water, hoping to find his cock hard again.

His superhuman stamina did not disappoint.

“Again, mi amor? You’ll be sore for days,” he chided, a bit condescendingly, one corner of his mouth curling in amusement, even as his crimson eyes widened in wonder that you still wanted more.

Biting your bottom lip, your eyes dipped coyly as you tugged on his thick member, stroking him just the way he liked.

He groaned, “You’re insatiable.”

“You gave me everything I wanted tonight,” you murmured against his lips, working your palm up and down his length, sloshing water sloppily. “Ask me for anything, Miguel, and I’ll say yes. Anything.”

“Corazón,” he moaned, hips shifting, fucking up into your grasp. “Anything?”

Your teeth tugged his bottom lip into your mouth, nipping tauntingly. “Yes.”

Nodding, he started thrusting again. Felt too good not to come if you were offering.

Your lips fused again in a heated tangle as you stroked and tugged him to orgasm.

The two of you managed to clean up and get something to eat before relaxing upstairs in the spacious den, cuddling together in his oversized chair. By this point you were dying to know what he would ask of you.

But you were distracted as he kissed you breathless, holding you like a treasure.

Miguel laid you open on the plush, expensive carpet, stripped your clothes off your body and spent the next hour with his tongue and lips all over you. He kissed you until you were dripping and arching into him, desperate for more. He nibbled at your breasts, littering them with tiny scrapes and cuts, sucking your nipples even as he drank warm red liquid.

He could no longer deny how hard it made him - how possessive over you he felt - knowing he could mark your body - that you wanted his marks on you - you craved them. Something dark lived in you and he was beginning to accept it. To need it.

Down he went, kissing the softness of your tummy, sucking marks into your thighs, passing an hour of attention with you panting his name, begging for what you really wanted.

Firing his warm, sticky webs to hold your thighs apart -spread so wide for him - he gazed down at you, desperate and writhing.

Finally, finally, he lowered his mouth to your cunt, nudging at your swollen clit with his nose. His warm tongue met your sex and your back arched violently as you came instantly. You felt him chuckle against you, inside you - his tongue thrusting in and out - the rumble of his laughter sending shockwaves up your spine as he purposely overstimulated you.

After an eternity of teasing, it was too easy to get you to orgasm, but he didn’t let you come down and you coudn’t find it in yourself to ask him to stop or to tap his shoulder for a break. No, instead your heels dug into his muscular back - your thighs slung over his broad shoulders as you bucked up frantically into his waiting mouth, fucking his tongue. Your shrieks of overstimulated pleasure tapered off into pathetic whimpers as he found the rhythm he knew you loved.

His superhuman strength allowed you to fist and pull his dark waves as hard as you wanted - to wildly buck and push his face harder into your sex. He could take anything you could give.

As if sensing you needed it harder, wilder, he rolled you over and pulled you down on his face, supporting your weight as you smothered his mouth with your pussy. He lightly smacked your ass, and, as if spurring a horse into action, you moaned embarrassingly loudly, riding his face as hard as you would his cock, as carelessly as you would use a toy in your bed alone.

Grabbing his hair again, you slammed his head down onto the carpet before yanking it up, using the would-be painful motion for more friction to fuck his face.

You and Miguel had done some dirty, wild things, but he’d never really felt this much unbridled loss of restraint from you. He moaned into your pussy, wishing he could fist his cock to the absolutely wrecked, desperate, filthy sounds echoing off the den walls - the squelch of your soaked cunt, slapping and dripping down his chin, making a mess of his hair, the carpet, of the both of you.

You came on his face only a moment later and before you were even halfway through your high, before the slight chance to start coming down presented itself, he laid you down and started working his tongue gently all over your pussy lips, your thighs, even your ass to clean you up.

“Miguel, fuck…fuck, it’s too much, oh f-fuck!” But since you didn’t safe word, he didn’t relent until you were a blubbering mess, having lost track of how many times you came, if you were currently coming now or coming down from a high.

He never used more than one finger and his mouth, but you finally passed out from exhaustion. He loved that he could do that to you without venom.

The next morning, you woke up clean, wounds appropriately dressed, in Miguel’s freshly made bed, wearing his t-shirt. It took you a few minutes to get your bearings when he entered with a tray of breakfast.

You sat up, feeling the slight sting of fang punctures in your neck and a sore, overused cunt.

“Corazón,” he breathed, rushing over to your side. “How are you feeling?” He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, his eyes flickering all over you.

“I’m good,” you assured him, reaching to caress his cheek. “I’m a little sore, but for all the best reasons.”

To your delight, he nodded and rolled with it. “You’re a dirty girl,” he chuckled with a shrug. “And dirty girls end up sore.”

Gasping in mock-surprise, you whacked him with the back of your hand. “Miguel O’Hara!”

“Don’t try to deny it,” he fired back, catching your flying hand and tangling his fingers with yours.

The two of you shared a few kisses, and, as you started eating your breakfast, you admitted to him that you were thrilled that he finally seemed to be accepting your dark side.

“It’s not darkness,” he finally answered, surprising you. “Reaching for your hand, he brushed his thumb over your knuckles. “It’s devotion.” He placed a kiss to your hand. “It’s acceptance.” He kissed your forehead, then looked down into your eyes. “It’s everything I’ve ever needed.” This time, he kissed your mouth.

“That’s why I want you to live here with me.”

Seeing your eyes go wide, he squeezed your hands. "You can keep your apartment if you want. I'll even pay for it. But..." His eyes dipped almost shyly as he exhaled in a rush. "I love you. So...move in with me?"

The air rushed out of your lungs as your cheeks heated at such a request. "Of course I will. I love you," you confessed. "But..."

Massive shoulders sank as a worried frown tugged at the corners of his kissable lips. "But?"

Caressing his fingers, you swallowed hard, but held his gaze bravely. "First, I need you to tell me where you go all weekend."

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[freakshowtwopointoh]

Wait For It - Cross the Line Part 12

I'm not falling behind or running late

I'm not standing still, I am lying in wait

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Ella doesn’t think she’s had a crush this intense in her life. She refuses to say in love even in her head. Going a day without seeing Jordan felt like she had been unmoored, her thoughts constantly drifting back to them. The studio was closed one weekend for a freak thunderstorm when half of the campus lost power, and Ella was driving her roommate up the wall by pacing and rewatching the same choreo videos on repeat, trying to glean something useful from them.

“Dude, just fucking chill. You’ll see your cranky not-boyfriend - “

“Not a boy.” She corrected without thinking, still absently working through the choreography in place.

“Right. Anyways, the studio will be open again the day after tomorrow. You practiced on your own for weeks at the start, can’t you manage it for two more days? And maybe, not in here?” Her roommate (Meg) was a pre-med student, constantly pouring over textbooks long after Ella went to bed. But she baked cookies every Sunday and she kept the room clean, so Ella really couldn’t complain.

“Alright, I get the hint. I’ll get out of here. Before I wear a hole in our carpet.” Meg just nodded her thanks before turning her attention back to the anatomy textbook open on her desk. And that’s how she ended up rehearsing (or, trying to) in the basement of her dormitory. The laundry room was strangely cavernous - the machines lined the left wall, and there were two large tables near the door, but that was it. There was room for her to actually move - much better than the few times she’d tried dancing in the common room or, god forbid, the tiny yoga studio at the student gym.

But despite having room to practice and the way she used to wish she didn’t have to hear Jordan’s constant criticism, she found herself missing their presence. The minute adjustments of her form that always made the dance smoother, their incredibly perceptive glare that filled her stomach with butterflies (and left her with this incessant need in her core), and even the way they’d snap that stupid fucking cinnamon gum when they didn’t have anything to say.

She thought some time away might reduce this want, this need she had for Jordan - to be close to them, to touch them - to trace her fingers across every inch of their body, to memorize the forms that had haunted her dreams. She thought she was above this kind of lust - even the word feels salacious, crude, unlike her. But even dancing wasn’t ridding her of this all-consuming need for Jordan. In the privacy of this cool, basement room, it felt safe to let her mind wander. Imagining Jordan’s femme form pressing her against the wall again - but this time, she wouldn’t be afraid. She wanted to feel their hips under her hands, wanted to pull them in and feel their entire body pressed against hers. Imagining their masc form lifting her again - but the veil of professionalism was gone, and she could run her hands over their toned back, press her lips to their neck, feel their lips on hers - finally taste the cinnamon of their gum on her tongue. Finally feel the softness of their breasts, the power of their thighs, and hear them groan her name. She didn’t realize how much she needed to hear it until she was leaning against this concrete wall, her hand finding its way under her skirt.

She muffled her soft moans with the sleeve of her sweater as she fully indulged herself. Her lithe fingers moved expertly as she let her eyes flutter closed, and all she could see was the look Jordan had given her as they had unbuttoned her shirt. The way their hands felt when they danced together. She pressed her hand harder against her mouth as she reached her peak, Jordan’s name falling from her lips unbidden, her body trembling as she slowly came back down.

Part of her felt dirty - she just masturbated. For the third time in her entire life. In a public place. But that was overshadowed by who spawned it. This was more of an admission of her feelings than anything else. As she squirted hand sanitizer on her hands for the third time, she realized a hard truth. Something fundamental had shifted.

Jordan’s POV

Of course they considered texting Ella when the email from Lynne came in about the power outage. They had a few out-of-the-way locations they’d rehearsed in the past - classrooms with bad locks, dorm laundry rooms... they even considered inviting her to their place. But there was something too personal about dancing out of the studio. Or maybe it was that they only dance outside of the studio when they need to dance. And when they need to not be found. Either way, they decided not to contact her, and they’re not really sure if it was the right choice. Because as much as they could complain about babysitting the freshie, it was beginning to feel strange dancing alone. 

Maybe that was what made them seek out a new club, sliding into leather pants that have laces instead of a zipper, letting their body move with the music and their mind disappear into the aether. Though, that was probably more about the cocktail of drugs currently coursing through their veins rather than the quality of the music. 

It was certainly the drugs that had them letting this woman dance all over them (and they mean all over them - she was insistent on stepping on their feet repeatedly) and lead them into a bathroom stall, her acrylic nails digging into their shoulders as they pressed her against the cool metal divider. There was a constant thrum in the back of their mind, every movement reminding them that she isn’t Ella. They’ve never even kissed her but they know her body almost like their own at this point. This girl was Jordan’s usual type - all sharp edges and intensity - but they were missing Ella's soft curves and sweet voice.

And in the morning, they would blame the drugs for the way they dissociated as she began kissing down their neck, the way her kisses tasted like ash on their tongue. It wasn’t difficult for them to play the selfless lover, even when they’re this fucked up, but this was the first time they actually faked it, tying an empty condom shut and throwing it away with the girl’s number before they slipped out of the bathroom and walked home.  

It was easy to blame the drugs for it all, sweeping generalizations about mistakes made in the heat of the moment. But they knew it wasn’t. Something fundamental had shifted. 

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au idea from @poppy-metal

I know people are excited about next to normal and i am working on the next chapters but I wanted to post this. Its also a bit more smutty and graphic so lmk what u think :)

[pardi-real]

Tarot of Destiny / Chapter 13 - Light Amidst Despair

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Warning: definitely spoilers

[Maginaria, Wind Temple]

Teddy led me to a temple atop a hill, a serene space befitting the Wind Temple's name, where a gentle breeze caressed my skin.

Teddy: “Oh… the wind might be a bit chilly. Please use this blanket, my lord.”

> “Thank you”

Teddy: “Hehe… my lord mustn't catch a cold! 

Now, please take a look at this, my tarot card… It's ‘The Sun’ in an ‘upright position’. It feels like ‘a bright future is unfolding’ ♪, truly ‘lucky ♪’! 

Indeed, the person I am now… is full of hope for the future. To the point that I couldn't believe I was contemplating ending my life just a year ago. I'm really glad I didn't.

If you and Mr. Haures hadn't come, I wouldn't be here, experiencing the joy of being alive again.  ‘The Sun’ card symbolizes my ‘bright future’, and you, my lord, have given me that future.

It's because I'm serving you… that I can be this happy. Thank you for giving me a new life. Let me thank you from the bottom of my heart...”

> “Teddy…”

Teddy is always as radiant as the sun, but... considering the past he went through, it's truly a miracle to see him smiling now.  Knowing that I played a part in bringing that smile to his face… fills me with happiness.

Teddy: “Ah! You're smiling too, my lord! I'm glad! Did my feelings reach you?”

> “Yes, they did”

Teddy: “Thank you! Hehe… I'm so happy; more feelings I want to convey keep overflowing.  It's likely endless, so before it becomes too much, let's have Mr. Yuhan to take over!”

With those words, Teddy left the room with an overflowing smile.

~ A while later ~

Clack… clack…

Yuhan: “My lord, I've come in Mr. Teddy's stead. He seemed incredibly happy, didn't he? But I can somehow understand that feeling.  Being able to convey your feelings to your loved ones... Just thinking about it makes me happy. My feelings as well... I hope I can deliver it to you, my lord.”

> “Yuhan’s feelings…”

Yuhan: “Yes. Before I express my feelings, please look at this tarot card. Mine is 'The Tower’ in a ‘reversed position’. It signifies ‘misfortune’, ‘anxiety’, ‘upheaval’—’events that make your existing values crumble’. It perfectly represents me. 

When I learned of the misdeeds of the family I served and how they burned my hometown down to silence me, everything I held dear crumbled. 

It was only when I experienced it firsthand that I truly comprehend what 'despair' meant…  and I thought… I would surely die within that hopelessness... “

> “Yuhan…”

Yuhan: “However, amidst that despair, I realized how precious ‘hope’ is. You, my lord, and the other butlers saved me, gave me a new life and the hope to live. 

I can't thank you enough for providing meaning to my life. Thank you for allowing me to serve you, my lord.  Although my life is quite different from what I had imagined, serving you brings me happiness.

*Close-up* Please allow me to express my loyalty to you, once again.”

> “Y-Yuhan?”

Yuhan took my hand, knelt, and lowered his head with a gesture reminiscent of a knight or samurai.

*From afar* Hanamaru: “Ah...! That guy Yuhan, holding hands and all…”

*From afar* Teddy: “P-please, Mr. Hanamaru! We promised to leave them alone for a moment…!”

Yuhan: “............ Well. The next one is finally the last person to talk… and we still have time… Would you like to spend it with me for a little longer?”

Hanamaru: “Hooold it right there! That's so sneaky of you to get me out of the loop, Yuhan.”

> “Oh, Hanamaru…”

Yuhan: “I was joking.  Sheesh, peeping is really in bad taste…”

Teddy: “I'm sorry, Mr. Yuhan, I was trying to stop him, but…”

Hanamaru: “For Teddy to say something like that… You're the kinda guy who pretends to stop them, but is actually their accomplice, ain'tcha?”

Teddy: “O-of course not! Like, no way. Anyway… Mr. Hanamaru is next, and the last one, right?”

Hanamaru: “Yeah. Leave it to me...  By the way… is it okay for me to hold hands like Yuhan did just now?”

Yuhan: “Mr. Hanamaru is not allowed.”

Hanamaru: “I don't wanna hear that from you, Yuhan… What 's your take on it, Teddy?”

Teddy: “Hmmm~... But in Mr. Yuhan's case, it seemed refined, so…”

Hanamaru: “Teddy… The way you're saying it, are you implying that I'm crude?”

Teddy: “A, ahaha!  Anyway, let's maintain the dignity of a butler!”

Yuhan: “Well then, my lord. Mr. Teddy and I will excuse ourselves for now.”

Hanamaru: “Yeah, from here on, it's the reaper's party time.”

> “Party time?”

Yuhan: “......Please take it seriously, Mr. Hanamaru.”

Saying that, Yuhan and Teddy left the room.

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[lheewonz]

Ch⁰⁶ !! Cool With You → What [written; 0.8k]

SYNOPSIS || After a rough break-up with your boyfriend of a year, you become a recluse and keep to yourself. Your friends convince you to go to a party and you see your ex, Heeseung, and his best friend, Jake. The day after the party Jake texts you with a proposition for the two of you to fake date.

WARNINGS || cursing a/n :: way longer than i wanted it to be oh lord

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Jake was easy to spot as soon as you walked in.

Even with his hair dyed back to its natural brown color, which tends to make people blend in more than anything, he still stood out sitting near the window, scrolling absentmindedly on his phone. You walked towards him quickly, excited for the food (you still hadn’t eaten yet as you had only woken up a couple of hours prior) and also anxious to get this over with.

You both had determined that there needed to be rules to this arrangement of yours, which made sense, but it made you a little nervous. What if the girls were right and Jake was just as bad as Heeseung and this was all a big ploy to ruin your life even further?

Before you could continue to dwell on the thought that Heeseung may or may not be fucking with you yet again through his best friend, said best friend noticed your arrival and smiled at you.

“Y/n, hey, thanks for coming.” He gets up and rounds the tables to pull a chair out for you. If not for your sudden nerves you would’ve swooned. “I already ordered, it should be here soon.”

“Thanks. It’s… been a while.” You finish awkwardly.

“Yea… I’m sorry I know my text came out of nowhere.”

“No no. It’s fine.” You think back to the group chat. “Incredibly suspicious, but I like to live life on the wild side.”

Jake quirks an eyebrow up at you, a smile ghosting on his lips. “No, you don’t.”

“Yeah, I don’t. Uh, now that I’ve thought about this a little more I’m not so sure about this…”

“That’s fine, I know it was weird. Just… let me explain better?” You nod and gesture for him to continue. “I’m really sorry about what happened. I was going to text you, but I didn’t think you would’ve wanted me to so I didn’t.”

You shrug in response, briefly flitting through the memories of the three of you hanging out together. Jake had been there for the entirety of your relationship, having been the only one of Heeseung’s friends to know about you. You think about how kind Jake had been when you both talked and how he always shared his notes with you and almost scold yourself for thinking that such a nice person could be screwing you over, but you had thought Heeseung was nice, and that led you to heartbreak.

“What Heeseung did has nothing to do with you, Jake. You don’t have to apologize on his behalf.”

“I felt like I did then, and I still feel like that now. You’re an amazing girl Y/n, you didn’t deserve that kind of treatment. I still don’t get why he did it. He acts like he isn’t, but I know he’s still in love with you. Honestly ever since he’s met Karina it’s like he turned into the worst version of himself and I’m sick of it. So yea, maybe it’s a shitty thing to do to my best friend, but he deserves it at this point.”

‘He’s still in love with you' Those words made you almost want to vomit if not for the slice of strawberry cake and what looked like 2 caramel macchiatos being placed on the table.

You gasped lightly. “That looks so good. I love strawberry cake.”

You’re so busy looking at the cake slice that you don’t even notice the way Jake smiles at your excitement (or the way the waitress smiles at the two of you knowingly before walking away). “I know.”

You take a bite and nearly groan at the taste. “I can’t believe you remembered, it’s been so long. Here.” You hand him a fork

“Thanks, lemme order another slice. It looks better than I thought.”

“Why?”

“I don’t wanna take your cake.”

“No no, it tastes better when you share it like this, trust me.” Jake shrugs and takes a bite. “Mkay so, you want to do this because you want to teach Heeseung a lesson?”

It’s a second before he responds like he forgot why the two of you were there in the first place. “Oh. No, I want to do this for the couples discount. My only other option was Sunghoon… Teaching Heeseung a lesson is like.. a side-quest.” He says, waving his fork around dismissively.

“Oh.” It’s silent after that. Not exactly awkward, just the two of you enjoying the cake, while you thought about this again. After you finish your last few bites, you speak up again. “Just to be clear, you have no ulterior motives right?”

“None.”

Well, that sounded trustworthy to you. “Okay then. Let’s do this.”

Jake’s resulting smile is so wide your cheeks hurt for him. “Let’s figure out the rules then, yea?”

[gaoau]

Shiver – Snip-snip, Chop-chop, Stab-stab

A Mother's Instinct warnings — none. word count — 1.4k

prev. — next.

Out of the three reactions his body had, he had always feared the shivers the most. When Yaku felt the bristles on his neck, he at least knew he could try and physically stop [Name] from harming herself by using common sense and a bit of bribing. When his stomach stirred uncomfortably, Yaku could simply pick up his phone, give [Name] a call, and console her for whatever had happened—although he preferred the art of hugging for that. But when the shivers trailed down his spine and made goosebumps erupt on his skin, he didn't ever know what to expect from [Name]'s brain.

The first time was during their second year, shortly after Summer break had begun. She had hit his phone up a few minutes before the sun fully set and asked, "On a scale from one to ten, how bad of an idea is it to pierce my own tongue?" The blood drained from Yaku's face in a split second, and not a moment later he was barking at [Name] through his microphone, educating her about nerve damage and the risks of being an idiot. Needless to say, [Name] did not pierce her own tongue that evening.

What she did do, however, happened early during their third year. Kuroo had become captain, they had warmly welcomed new first-years into the team, and [Name] was feeling like trying something different. She had gone through multiple changes throughout her high-school years, so trying something different wasn't a surprise to anyone. More often than not she would show up to school with a different hair color, or horribly cut bangs, or that one time she shaved the ends of her eyebrows for some reason; all which Yaku had anticipated due to the shivers.

She had developed a skill for destroying her body in the most fashionable ways. The whole team—and maybe even the whole school—knew this one idiot had become incredibly efficient at coloring and chopping her own hair overtime. In fact, after being pestered by Yamamoto about standing out, Kenma had turned to her and reluctantly asked if she would be willing to dye his hair for him. [Name] was beyond elated to see her recklessness helping someone else.

But not all of her spontaneous ideas ended in compliments from her classmates and one-sided chats at Kenma's house as she burnt his scalp with bleach. The sheer terror contorting Yaku's face at the feeling of not only shivers, but also a sickening stirring in his stomach was impressive. [Name] had a tradition of attacking her hair around two in the morning, so considering the sun still shone on the sky, chances of her hair suffering were low—but never zero—not to mention, she was crying.

"[Name], what in the ever-loving fuck are you doing?" Yaku swiped his fingers across the screen of his phone to send her a couple messages demanding answers. When he received no replies and the messages were left unread for more than a few minutes, Yaku decided to take it upon himself to check on his favorite dumbass.

[Name]'s mother greeted him with an affectionate hug, ushering him to get inside, insisting yet again to call her mom for once. He excused himself, kicked off his shoes, and walked past the kitchen, where he caught a whiff of warm vanilla wafting from the oven. Peering inside, he chuckled at [Name]'s father beating up some egg whites for meringue. The man smiled at him and offered a freshly baked plate of cupcakes. The [Surname]s loved him dearly, from doting parents to chaos child.

After tasting [Name]'s father's cupcakes—which he found amazing—he made his way to [Name]'s room. He sighed loudly before knocking on the closed door, pressing his ear against it to listen closely in case he could catch her crying. Instead, he only heard how she gasped, sucked in a breath, and scrambled around on the floor.

Yaku huffed through his nose, eyes closing. "[Name]?"

"Oh, fuck. Oh, shit. God, fuck, damn it. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—Ah, holy shit!" First, hushed whispers she was mumbling to herself. Then, a yelp of pain. "Please, don't come in…!" Her voice shook as she cried out.

"Well, I was going to ask, but now you're clearly crying and I'd like to know why."

"No, no, it's nothing! Go home! Dad's making cupcakes, take one on your way out!"

"Already ahead of you." Yaku grasped the door handle and twisted it, but didn't quite open the door. He awaited a reaction, which came in the form of [Name] squeaking out another pained yelp. "[Name], I'm coming in."

"Please, don't!"

But Yaku didn't care for listening and burst into the room. It was a sight to behold and it almost made his heart shut down completely. [Name] sat cross-legged by her trash bin, half of her hair held up with pins, exposing her nape and allowing a perfect view of her ears. Particularly, her left ear. Her left, bleeding ear. The smell of rubbing alcohol overpowered the previous, welcoming scent of warm vanilla from the pastries. Draped over [Name]'s lap was a very bloody towel, covered in strands of hair.

Yaku blinked. Once. Twice. And as soon as he could understand the sight in front of him, he slammed the door shut and rushed to shake [Name] by the shoulders. "[Name], are you okay?! What did you do?! What are you doing?!"

Tears poured out of her eyes as she let go of the scissors in her hand. Yaku hadn't noticed those scissors. He took a closer look and spotted a razor next to the trash bin, which he realized was filled with crumpled-up paper and chopped-off hair. "I gave myself an undercut…"

"I'm sorry?"

"Morisuke. I gave myself an undercut."

"Wha—what? But why are you bleeding so much?!"

"Oh…" She reached her left hand towards her ear, alarming Yaku with the amount of blood staining it. "I decided to pierce my upper cartilage. It… didn't go well, ow…"

Yaku inhaled deeply. "[Name]." [Name] locked eyes with him, her brows bending into a pitiful grimace, a pout upon her trembling lips. "Why?"

"I don't know! I just got out of the shower and saw the scissors and went snip-snip! And then I just impulsively stabbed a needle through my ear! I don't know!" Despite having blood-stained palms, she slammed her face into them and started sobbing.

Yaku couldn't help the laugh spilling from his lips as he peeked behind her to the mess she had made. There was an extremely uneven line separating her tied-up hair from her shaved skin, while terribly chopped strands poked in various directions. Impressive for someone that worked without a mirror; disappointing for being [Name]. It was a disaster.

"It's a disaster."

"I'm aware! Okay?! I know!"

Yaku chuckled once more, to which [Name] responded with a muffled groan as she continued to bawl. He settled behind her on his knees and let her hair loose before re-tying it higher up, leaving some loose portions to even out her horrible job. "I'll fix it for you. Then we'll patch up your ear."

[Name] whipped her head backwards to gawk at her best friend. Oh, the smiles Yaku could muster were more than a blessing. They could wash her concerns away and wipe her tears off in an instant. He was simply that amazing. Before he allowed her to say anything or stare any longer, Yaku forced her head to look forward again.

"Stop crying now. I'm gonna mess it up with you shaking like that."

"God, this is why I love you."

"Yes, [Name], I love you, too."

[Name] never knew a short sentence could loosen her muscles up and fill her with warmth. Her tears disappeared, replaced by a toothy grin which probably made her seemed adorably stupid. But it was fine. Yaku loved her, whether she was adorable, or stupid, or adorably stupid anyway.

[fanby-fckry]

How to Seduce the Radio Demon in 6 Easy Steps

Word Count: 2,323

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)

Rating: Mature

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Additional Warnings: Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Kink, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, Past Character Death

Relationships: Lilith Morningstar/Lucifer Morningstar, Alastor/Lucifer Morningstar, Alastor/Lilith Morningstar/Lucifer Morningstar

Characters: Lilith Morningstar, Lucifer Morningstar, Alastor, Brief Charlie Morningstar

Additional Tags: Romantic Comedy, Comedy/Attempt at Humor, 5+1 Things, Polyamory, Open Marriage, Lilith Morningstar and Lucifer Morningstar Have an Open Marriage, Bisexual Disaster Lucifer Morningstar, Supportive Lilith Morningstar, Lilith Mange Ships It, Aromantic Asexual Alastor

Series: Part 2 of The Unholy Trinity ( <- Prev || Next -> )

Summary:

Lilith turned to her husband. “The Radio Demon?” she asked expectantly.

“Yes!” Lucifer answered.

“How did you do it?” Lilith asked, curiosity burning in her stomach like hot coals. “How did you finally tempt him?”

*

Lucifer walks Lilith through his foolproof, 6-step plan to seducing the Radio Demon.

Or, 5 ways Lucifer failed to seduce Alastor, and 1 way that actually worked – as told by one very patient, very supportive, and fairly amused Lilith Morningstar.

Better on AO3

Step 1: Research

“The Radio Demon, or Alastor – he almost never refers to himself as ‘the Radio Demon’ – is an enigma. From the day he arrived in Hell, he had power like no other sinner. He commandeered Hell’s airwaves, broadcasting his brutality and instilling fear in Pride Ring denizens from imps to Overlords. And while everyone knows his name, his sadistic nature, and his taste in music, anything else about him is a mystery…”

“But not for me,” Lucifer gloated, breaking from the theatrical tone of his earlier monologue. “Because I have paperwork!”

Lucifer took a seat beside Lilith and began reading from the files he’d brought. “Alright, it says here his sins are murder – oh, murders, that’s plural – pride, wrath, vengeance – I still can’t believe they marked that one as a sin. When Raguel does it it’s fine, but Dad forbid the humans get involved.”

Lucifer coughed around the word ‘hypocrites,’ and Lilith laughed behind the glass of wine she’d conjured.

“Gluttony,” Lucifer continued. “That’s an odd addition… Oh, never mind, the next one is cannibalism, so that makes sense.”

“Died November 27th, 1933 at age 37 in New Orleans, Louisiana. Death classified as accidental. Cause of death: Gunshot wound to the head – what?” Lucifer balked. “How do you accidentally get shot in the head?”

Lilith shrugged. “Stray bullet, perhaps?”

Lucifer kept reading. “Oh yeah, it says here it was a hunting accident. He was mistaken for a deer while burying the bodies of three victims – fucking incredible!”

“Impressive, indeed,” Lilith agreed.

“Also, that explains the deer ears,” Lucifer said offhandedly.

“Are those ears?” Lilith asked. “I assumed they were part of his hair.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re ears. I think I saw one move, once.”

“Hm,” Lilith hummed and took another sip of her wine. “I suppose you’ll find out when you tempt him. Do let me know, darling.”

“Will do,” Lucifer promised. “No spouse or children, no living relatives at all, actually… Occupation: Radio host and serial killer – serial killer counts as an occupation? Damn, who wrote this?”

Lucifer flipped to the end of the sinner’s paperwork. “Oh, Gabriel. Should’ve known; he’s actually got a sense of humor.”

“But,” Lucifer said after a moment’s thought. “That could work to my advantage. Gabe still talks to me, on occasion. If he handled Alastor’s sentencing, maybe he has some information on his love life? He can be a bit of a gossip sometimes, which would absolutely work in my favor.”

Step 2: Be His Type

“So I got in contact with Gabriel,” Lucifer said, sounding not quite as pleased as Lilith thought he would’ve been.

“What did he have to say?” Lilith asked.

Lucifer scrubbed his hands over his face. “Well, uh, not much,” he told her.

“Oh?”

“I asked him if he remembered sentencing a serial killer from New Orleans and he immediately knew who I was talking about. Good sign, right?” Lucifer asked.

It was somewhat rhetorical, but Lilith answered, anyway. “One would assume.”

“But then I asked him about Alastor’s love life and he laughed – fucking laughed!” Lucifer threw his arms up in frustration.

Lucifer put on a fairly accurate impression of his brother, Gabriel, including body language and facial expressions. “He told me, ‘Good luck with that, brother,’ and refused to say another word about it.”

Lucifer sighed, rolled his eyes, and dropped Gabriel’s affect. “So I guess I’m on my own,” he said.

“That’s never been a problem for you before, my swan,” Lilith reminded him.

“True…”

“So what will you do next?” Lilith asked.

Lucifer shrugged. “I guess I’ll just start throwing mud at the wall and see what sticks.”

“You could always just be your charming self,” Lilith suggested.

Lucifer blushed. “Yeah, I’ll try that too.”

Lucifer flopped down onto the bed next to his wife. “I have… absolutely no idea what his type is,” he told her.

“Did you try being yourself?” Lilith asked, rolling onto her side to face him.

“Yes, and honestly I think he responds best to me when I’m, well, me.” Lucifer sighed. “But it’s not really the kind of response I’m looking for. He seems to really enjoy messing with me.”

Lilith laughed. “He’s learning how to press your buttons before you can even find his.”

“I know!” Lucifer exclaimed. “I’d actually be impressed if it wasn’t so damn frustrating. I have learned nothing, nada, zilch.”

Lucifer began to list the different ‘types’ he’d gone through thus far. “He shows no preference for women over men or vice versa; various androgynous forms have also failed. I even tried highlighting nonhuman features, angelic, demonic, animalistic-”

“You did the goat thing?” Lilith interjected.

“I did the goat thing!” Lucifer closed his eyes. “You know I hate the goat thing,” he said, sadly.

“Yes, darling, I know,” Lilith replied.

The next words were Lucifer’s, but he’d said them so many times over in the past that Lilith joined him, “Because Baphomet wears it better.”

Lucifer opened his eyes to meet Lilith’s, and they each cracked a smile.

“They really do, though,” Lucifer insisted.

Lilith rolled her eyes and kissed her husband until she was certain he’d forgotten all about the Radio Demon’s many rejections.

Step 3: Make Him Feel In Control

Lucifer came to Lilith with a focused sort of look – one that he only wore when he’d put a great deal of thought into something and needed someone to share it with.

“I think I may have figured it out,” he said.

“Do tell, darling,” Lilith replied, ready to give Lucifer her full attention.

“The murders, the broadcasts, the cannibalism: it’s all about power,” Lucifer said. “Power and control.”

Lilith watched as her husband began pacing the room, talking with his hands as he explained his observations to her.

“Even when he’s with his friends or his allies, he always maintains an element of control,” Lucifer told her. “He’s very touchy-feely with people – no sense of personal space for anyone else – but I’ve never seen anyone touch him.”

“He doesn’t let them,” Lucifer said. “I thought it was just me at first, but he won’t even let Rosie touch him anywhere but his hands.”

Lilith hummed, taking a moment to consider Lucifer’s words. She turned them over in her mind, looking at them from different angles – thinking of how she and Lucifer might handle the situation differently.

“So your plan is to make him feel like he’s in control,” she said.

“Exactly,” Lucifer confirmed. “I’ll conceal my power, shift forms, and appear to him as an unassuming, submissive demon – one he can dominate.”

Lilith said nothing. She simply stared at her husband, one eyebrow raised.

“What?” Lucifer asked, incredulously. “You think I can’t pull it off?”

Lilith resisted the urge to roll her eyes, instead kissing Lucifer on the cheek. “I think you’ll certainly try.”

“Well, I tried,” Lucifer said with a defeated sigh.

“And?” Lilith prompted. Lucifer’s tone had all but confirmed that his plan had worked exactly as well as Lilith thought it would – but she wanted details.

“It was working, or at least I thought it was,” Lucifer complained.

“We flirted for about an hour, then he leaned over and whispered” – Lucifer put on his very best smug, flirtatious Radio Demon impression, complete with a Transatlantic accent, doe eyes, and an ear-to-ear smile – “‘I know it’s you, Devil dearest. You used this form twice already.’”

Lilith stifled a snicker while her husband continued to recount this very unexpected turn of events.

“Then he clapped me on the shoulder and said, ‘Playing waif doesn’t suit you, my friend! Better luck next time!’”

Lilith hummed. “Better luck next time, darling.”

Step 4: Be Romantic

When Lucifer came home with a bouquet of roses, a box of chocolates, and a dejected look on his face, Lilith immediately conjured a glass of wine.

“I have got to hear this one,” she said, taking a sip.

“I thought that since he likes using pet names and terms of endearment that he might be the romantic type,” Lucifer said, dropping the roses rather dramatically on their bedside table.

“And?” Lilith asked.

Lucifer huffed, before answering, “And he took one look at me, made this weird, screechy, feedback noise, then turned around and left.”

Lilith couldn’t help it, she just started laughing.

“Lili,” Lucifer whined, looking up at her with puppy dog eyes.

“Oh, there there, my swan,” Lilith said, and patted her lap. In an instant, her husband was seated atop her thighs, his head nuzzling the crook of her neck.

“We can eat the chocolates together, darling,” she offered. “Would that help?”

“Yes,” Lucifer said, still pouting and muffled significantly by Lilith’s skin against his lips.

“My precious star,” she crooned. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

Step 5: Consider Giving Up

“I think I’m going insane, Lil,” Lucifer said, apropos of nothing. “It’s been five years and I’ve gotten nowhere.”

Lilith, of course, knew exactly what – exactly whom – he was talking about.

Truth be told, Lilith felt more than a bit responsible for her husband’s struggles. After all, she’d been the one to suggest tempting the Radio Demon in the first place.

The living world had been in the midst of economic ruin and on the precipice of war, and Lucifer had needed some intellectually stimulating, low stakes entertainment. At the time, sending him off to tempt the up and coming Overlord had seemed like a wonderful way to provide that.

Now, she wasn’t so sure.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” Lilith said as she stroked her husband’s hair. “When I said I wanted to give you a challenge… Well, suffice to say, I had no idea tempting him would be this involved. You can stop, you know. If you’re not having fun…”

“That’s the thing, though, Lili. I am,” Lucifer told her.

“I’m no closer to tempting him than I was the day I first met him, he’s the most infuriating demon I’ve ever met, and he’s driving me fucking batshit, but…” Lucifer laughed. “Damn it all, I do genuinely enjoy his company.”

With a resigned smile, he said, “Maybe I should give up on trying to tempt him and just be his friend instead.”

Step 6: Disregard Steps 2-5

Lucifer burst in as he often did: loudly, dramatically, and with no regard for what might have been going on there before his entrance.

The double doors of the Morningstar’s main sitting room slammed on their hinges as Lucifer threw them both open at once.

“I did it,” he said, sounding as if he was struggling to believe the words coming out of his own mouth.

Lilith met his eye from across the room. “You did it?”

“I did it!” Lucifer repeated, triumphantly.

“You did what?” asked Charlie, looking up from the hell school homework Lilith had been helping her with.

Oh, if this was the achievement Lilith suspected it to be, Charlie should absolutely not be around to hear about it.

“Oh shit,” Lucifer cursed. “I didn’t see you there, apple pie.”

Charlie looked back and forth between her two parents, before seeming to decide she didn’t want anything to do with this.

“I’m just gonna go, uh, somewhere that isn’t here,” Charlie said, scrambling to grab her things. “Bye!”

“Bye, sweetheart! Love you!” Lucifer called out as Charlie hurried towards the door.

“We love you, starlight,” Lilith echoed.

“Bye Mom, bye Dad! Love you both, too!” Charlie yelled over her shoulder.

As soon as their daughter had left the room, Lilith turned to her husband. “The Radio Demon?” she asked expectantly.

“Yes!” Lucifer answered.

“How did you do it?” Lilith asked, curiosity burning in her stomach like hot coals. “How did you finally tempt him?”

In all honesty, she’d been starting to think the Radio Demon would be Lucifer’s white whale. It’d been six years since she’d turned Lucifer on to this little ‘challenge.’ She’d even considered attempting to seduce the sinner herself to see if he simply had some kind of supernatural aversion to Lucifer.

Lucifer folded his hands under his chin and flashed Lilith a downright sinful grin. “Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?’” he asked

“Of course,” Lilith said, sighing with the realization. “The cannibalism.”

“Mhmm!” Lucifer hummed. “I should’ve thought of it sooner – it seems so obvious now! Oh, and I was definitely barking up the wrong tree trying to tempt him with sex. He is a masochist, though.”

“Oh, good,” Lilith said. “You don’t get to express your sadistic streak often enough, my love.”

Lilith and Lucifer were no strangers to sadomasochism, but usually Lilith was the one dealing blows. They were each flexible in their roles, but Lilith had to admit, she leaned heavily towards both the Dominant and sadistic ends of the spectrum.

“I know, right?” Lucifer said. “I mean, humans tend to be submissive towards me, but they’re so fragile,” he complained. “I can’t really get rough with them, not even the hardcore masochists. It’s been a while since I had a demon sub to play with.”

“He’s a submissive, as well?” Lilith mused. “I can’t say I expected that.”

“Me neither, honestly,” Lucifer admitted. “He’s a huge brat, and I think he enjoys the struggle for control more than the act of submission – but ohhh Lili, you should’ve seen him! He begged.”

“Oh, how sweet,” Lilith cooed. She would indeed have liked to see the Radio Demon beg; she and her husband had similar tastes, after all.

“He’s so pretty,” Lucifer said dreamily. And oh stars, Lilith knew that look.

“I kind of wanna see him again.” Lucifer turned to Lilith and asked, “Would you be alright with that, darling?”

“Yes,” Lilith answered, truthfully. She kissed her husband and listened as he went on and on about his encounter with the Radio Demon. Perhaps she should start calling him Alastor… She had the sneaking suspicion that this little ‘challenge’ was here to stay.

[mainstoryarchive]

Kingdom - 72: Trial

Nazuna: Well then, everyone, attention!

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Location: Auditorium

Nazuna: Well then, everyone, attention!

The fair results of the voting, the amount of votes and rank of each of the units that participated in today's S1 have been determined! I will be announcing them right now ♪

The amount of votes and their breakdown… How many people voted and what kind of points were given will be updated on the Yumenosaki Academy's homepage after this!

If you are interested then be sure to check it there!

Right now we will only be announcing the ranks!

First, in fourth place… or in other words in last place, 2wink!

Hinata: Yes, yes~. That was to be expected, but let me at least make an excuse.

The votes were being gathered at the same time as our performance.

We didn't get any votes only because we had to hand over the stage to Trickstar in the middle of our performance!

Loss by default, I'd say. Which is why you shouldn't make fun of 2wink just because we're in last place.

Nazuna: You sure are desperate. Well in the official record this will be recorded as 2wink's debut performance, and being in last place for your first performance does leave a bad impression.

Hinata: Exactly! We went as far as to even sacrifice ourselves like that… You absolutely have to win, Trickstar!

I'd also be fine if Sakuma-senpai's UNDEAD wins, you know? Whichever is fine so overcome our corpses! Grasp victory!

Nazuna: However, regrettably, UNDEAD is in third place ♪

Rei: Yes, as per the pre-established harmony. I have no complaints, in the end we are just the corpses that need to be overcome.

AKATSUKI and UNDEAD's skills are on par, however due to the authority of the student council they were able to gather the votes from the students and AKATSUKI was able to win this close fight.

It is a result that follows logic, however thanks to the format of our battle, we were able to take a considerable amount of votes.

Due to us crushing each other, we both went under while trying to sweep away the ground under the other's feet… There should be ones who used our heads as a stepping stone and climbed even higher.

Applaud them, everybody! Feel free to release a salute of guns called applause ♪

Nazuna: Aaah, don't steal my job! Let me talk till the end, from here on is the best part of the announcement ☆

There are two units left!

Will it be the unit led by the student council, the unbeaten and invincible, the strongest unit, AKATSUKI! Or will it be the up and coming revolutionists, Trickstar!

The winner will be illuminated by the light! Spotlights, go ahead ☆

Keito: … …

I had a vague hunch that it would be like this, but actually experiencing it is indeed bitter.

I haven't tasted it in a long time, this hardship. This is… the taste of defeat.

…Incorrigible.

Rei: Uo (yawn), how bright. Miss, step a bit more towards the front. I am bad with the light…

Congratulations ♪

Nazuna: Tadaa ♪ The result is as you can see!

And what we can see here is… it's a totally unexpected result!

The ones who ruled tonight's S1 are the miraculous unit which pulled apart from the others with a wide margin by number of votes, grasping victory! Trickstar ☆

The student council's undefeated legend has finally come to an end! Everyone gathered here! Do you understand the implications of this?

The school is trembling with the commotion the students are stirring up, can everyone feel it?

In this very moment, Yumenosaki Academy is moving at an incredible pace! A fissure is forming, a new wind is starting to blow!

Light flows in which shines upon the new stars!

Congratulations, Trickstar! You are the winners, you are number one ☆

[ ☆ ]

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