#blot!reader

[prettybugsinbandages]

Blot!reader pt. 1

This is a darker story. I suggest you refrain from reading it if you're in a fragile mental state or unable to handle darker themes.

When they all arrived in Twisted Wonderland, the reactions varied wildly; Irritation, indifference, curiosity, empathy, pity, disgust, admiration. All directed towards them—The Yuus. Not you. You didn't even seem to exist.

You aren't important. At least not enough to be a protagonist in this story all seven of them are living in.

The realization that you're alone in this world seems to hit like ice cold water dumped over your head and the chill of it creeps into your heart, freezing your veins and arteries.

You arrived the same way they did: Another world, no magic, the black carriage ride that would've seemed like a lifetime opportunity. But you aren't like the Yuus. You can't muster the determination and resolve they have to push through this unfamiliar terrain without much of a reaction. In fact, you cannot even begin to understand why none of them are upset about this.

Why? You find yourself asking over and over again and the question echoes relentlessly in your mind. Why aren't they grieving everything they've lost? Because you can't seem to stop thinking about it—Everything you've ever amounted to is gone. All your relationships, achievements, successes and lessons. Everything you've built is gone like a dream. Erased in an instant.

Hundreds—no—thousands of eyes stare at all of you. You don't have time to think about how beautiful they are. You've been stripped bare and raw of everything that ever made you you. You've been killed without ever physically dying.

As you struggle to adjust into this unfamiliar world, you can't help but admire others you share Ramshackle with. They're strong and determined, truly remarkable individuals. Charismatic and brave, they seem like the type of fictional characters the fanbase would adore—praised for the grit and unyielding stubbornness they display valiantly. Even the other students of magic descent respect them.

Sometimes you lie awake in your room—rundown and shabby, but improving. Together you're slowly transforming the dorm into something livable, maybe even inviting. During moments like these you find deep appreciation within yourself for the other seven that arrived with you. In vulnerable moments like this, they aren't companions; they're a lifeline.

Then there's you—a playground rock next to shining gems on pedestals. They reassure you that you're important. But nobody outside these croaking walls seems to believe that. The frustration builds sometimes, a tight knot in your chest just twisting and turning, and inevitably only knotting more. Curled up on the creaky floor, clutching your hair while staring wide-eyed at a single spot as if that floorboard specifically caused all of this. Tears don't seem to come; instead, you sit there, taking deep, shuddering breaths, lost in a sea of thoughts that you're drowning in.

Why? Why are you treated like a Ramshackle ghost—or even less? You all share the same origin, the same story of loss and these faux "New beginnings", so what makes you so different, so unappealing that nobody seems to want to spare more time than polite? Is it because of the fear that grips your heart? Its clutch is tight and cold, holding you to this new world full of threats hidden behind the guise of beautiful and new magic you didn't have back home.

The mesmerizing people that wield such pretty magic can control bodies while leaving consciousness intact—or the opposite. The idea of someone with malicious intent having that power over you is a chilling nightmare. You cannot simply compete for your own safety.

The inhabitants of Twisted Wonderland are simply stronger. Not just the fae, mers, or beastpeople, but even the humans. Their bodies are resilient, able to shrug off low-level magic that would leave you bloody or bruised.

At times you wonder why exactly nobody seems to care enough to remember you and there are moments when you find yourself gazing in the mirror, only met with an unfamiliar face. The reflection you're met with isn't quite yours—it's something darker, something hollow. A shadow, endless and consuming, its eyes locking with yours with an unnerving intensity. That smile, twisted in ways that were once pretty, no longer feels like it belongs on your face.

It's almost as you though you're looking at an echo of yourself, a distorted version that somehow feels both foreign and familiar, comforting in its familiarity but unsettling in its wrongness.

You blink, and the reflection moves. Just a slight shift, a creeping inch closer to the glass, closer than where you stand in reality. Your heart leaps into your throat, panic surging through you as you back away, tearing yourself from the bathroom and your own gaze. You slam the door behind you, leaning against its cold, worn surface. But even as the chill presses against your skin, it does nothing to calm the racing of your heart. The sleep deprivation is wearing you thin, and the hallucinations are becoming harder to ignore, more frequent, more real.

Ace's eyes narrow as you attempt to make small talk in the Ramshackle kitchen. He's friends with all the Yuus and quite close with them all. Deuce lingers somewhere nearby and you can hear his footsteps clomping around as he chases Grim. A soundtrack you've grown familiar with over time.

"—so yeah. He totally shrugged us off. Said we weren't 'big kid' enough to know what was going on." Ace rants, throwing his arms up in exasperation before running a hand through shaggy locks, his scarlet eyes met your own briefly before he continued rambling about something that had happened today in physed. His words swirl around you, filled with the day's energy, yet never fully reaching.

You always liked when the Adeuce duo visited. They were really only here for the others and you knew it, of course. If you remain in your room when they visit, neither boy will seek you out. They only included you in their escapades when you're right there—an afterthought. It felt cruel, like an unspoken rule of polite indifference. Nobody hated you, you just weren't important.

Deuce poked his face into the room, offering a polite wave as he rummaged through the fridge for a snack before leaning against the counter as he watched you make lunch. His expression is thoughtful and only vaguely curious.

"You don't really do anything, do you?" The words slipped out like a quiet curiosity that cut deeper than he likely intended. It's not a jab, just a question. Maybe that makes it hurt more. You felt like a rarely regarded lamp in a corner, the bulb long burned out, the shade dusty and untouched, and a soft light no longer emit from it.

You awkwardly muster a smile and try to respond—to list a reason you're worth more attention than you receive, but your voice falters. Before you can say a word, Grim streaks across the table, scattering papers and bunching up the cheap cloth. One paw hits Ace in the face and Deuce barely manages to avoid a fall with the creature darting between his legs.

Both boys shoot up, laughter and curses ringing out through the dorm as they chase Grim out of the room. You're left in the quiet, the emptiness settling over you like dust—suffocating and dull. The buzz of the kitchen light hums in the silence, a low, monotonous sound that only seems to heighten the irritation building inside. It's the kind of anger that feels pointless, but it consumes you anyway, making you feel unbearably stagnant.

Your eyes are locked on the tiles beneath your feet, the stark off-whiteness almost glaring under the dim light. You stare so intensely that your eyes begin to sting, but you can't bring yourself to look away. Something feels off, something is off.

And then, it hits you. Your oldest companion—the one constant presence you could always count on—has abandoned you. Your shadow is gone. For a fleeting moment, you feel exposed, like the absence of it leaves you vulnerable. You almost want to reach out, to search for it, but there's nothing there. The realization leaves you with a cold, sinking feeling, and the silence suddenly feels oppressive.

Your gaze pulls away from the tiles, heart racing, trying to dismiss the unsettling feeling. Turning back to the counter, you expect to regain a semblance of calm. But as you do, something catches your eye—your shadow is cast strangely, distorted in a way you don't recall. Paranoia gnaws at you, the question unanswered. Was it always like this? You couldn't even remember.

Before you could process it any further, you hear Yuuken's voice, calling you from down the hall, asking for help with the renovations.

Engaging with anyone here was an uphill battle—woundingly difficult. The conversations seem one sided, his interest always fleeting as if there's nothing about you that's all that interesting. You're invisible. Once again, feeling like a ghost, a nameless background character in a story you were pasted into, into a story that you weren't even supposed to be dragged into.

What cuts deeper like a blade into the fat layer is the reality that you're not just standing idle. You're there in the overblots, fighting every battle as if you were qualified despite being dastardly unfit for this work. Fighting just as fiercely for people who don't even dare to acknowledge your existence for longer than necessary. You've pulled people to safety, pushed others out of the way of dangerous attacks and when it's all over you're tending to the injured, soothing the boy whose overblotted until he comes to. Yet when he wakes his eyes are darting for someone else.

All you want—all you need—is a simple acknowledgement. A thanks.

Yuu is injured but so are you. "What about me?" The words slip out before you can stop them

"What about you?" He repeats as his eyes rake over your crumpled form; battered and broken.

His voice is distant, edged with a vague obligation of care or pity. "You're hurt. Staff and paramedics will be here soon. Stay put." You would've felt your heart swell to feel any sort of acknowledgement and being withdrawn from your lonely bubble but he goes ahead and says that to everyone else and the hope sputters out and fades away. Are you merely another faceless voice in the crowd?

But he's beside Yuuka and her friends, thanking them tending to the others, offering words of comfort and appreciation and a hot surge of jealousy envelops you for only a fleeting moment before it cools almost immediately. It's not Yuu's fault. She's stumbling over words, eyes darting between you and him, desperately trying to redirect all the praise.

"They helped a lot too. Don't worry about me. Please—they took a lot of hits for the team—" her voice is rushed, earnest. She sees you. She knows.

But you're numb. The words wash over you, leaving you staring blankly. Your focus sharpens as you watch him, the indifference cutting deeper than any wound from battle.

It's not Yuu's fault, you think, the realization like a blade. And it's not mine either.

Your eyes harden, the simmering negativity solidifying into something darker—hatred for this world and its unforgiving, selective gaze.

The Blot's words wrapped around you like velvet, warm and inviting. Each word a whisper, and just beyond your comprehension. It spoke in a language too rich, too layered for you to fully grasp, yet you found yourself managing a nod and agreeing to flowery promises barely understood.

Home seems too far now, a vague dream you once had a long time ago that's memories grow dim within your worn mind. Crowley's so-called "research" moves at a snail's pace, each reassurance vague and hollow with no weight behind it. They have housewardens, heirs, socialites, all silently pining to have them by their side in the end. The others have people who want them here.

When graduation comes, you know you'll be alone. No citizenship, no comforting embrace after a long day, no government papers to properly own a home, and no magic to shield you.

A higher education was beyond your reach without the proper credentials. You could aim for a trade but no reputable company would hire a ghost in the system without insurance. Shadier paths were on the table for you but you didn't want to hurt innocent people and you weren't ready to die. Not yet.

"You promise?" The words rasped from your throat, a fragile plea to the pitch-black figure—it smiles.

Snowflakes gathered on your broken body, frostbite gnawed at your fingertips and toes. The cold seeped deep, pressing kisses to your very bone marrow. The results of the accident are chilling, your body numb and your mind blocking the pain out.

"You'd accept even if I won't, darling." It purred, voice dripping with amusement and leaning over your mangled body. Once again you looked like broken porcelain. Doll carnage—too pretty to die in its eyes.

"You're going to die in that stupid uniform." It reminds with a melodious laugh escaping it, crouching so unseen eyes met yours and the empty gaze felt cold like a harpoon through your skull.

A response doesn't form just yet, instead your words linger on time quickly slipping away. "You'll make me live?"

"You make it sound like a punishment."

"It could be."

Its grin only widened. "I'll make you thrive—I'll sponsor you. Only to test magicless bodies, of course. You're soaked with hatred, my dove—enough to feed me for centuries and I just might be able to use all that to give you some fancy powers," The Blot chimed and waves it's hands around with a lighthearted laugh as if you're not mangled and dying right now.

You muster a nod and your vision is blurring quickly, adrenaline settling in as your blood pumped quickly to get you up, away from the charming danger you'd shake hands with if your body was capable of movement.

"I've waited too long.." It murmured softly, a hint of cruel reverence sends a shiver runs down your spine as the Blot's presence looms closer, its hands—tender, almost too tender—brush away strands of hair from your face, as if trying to soothe the tension there. Your body trembles under the weight of its touch, that impossible softness juxtaposed with the suffocating darkness that clings to it. The Blot's dark hands reach for you, wrapping around your shoulder and back to prop you up, not in malice but in something more unsettling, as though its cradling you like something fragile, something it fears may break at the breeze.

It laughs, a low, melodious sound, "Even a worm will turn," it murmurs under its breath, the words curling into your mind, buzzing like static. You can't focus on anything other than the overwhelming presence of it, the heat of its breath a nearly welcome sensation against the stinging snow, slowly burying you.

It'd been a few days since the accident—now you walk the halls, your feet knowing the path subconsciously as your eyes linger on the jewelry again, the weight of it palpable on your finger. The design is intricate, just as you'd always admired—luxurious without tipping over into excess, a perfect balance of elegance. But it's the stone at its center that pulls at you, black as the void. It swallows light, reflecting nothing but its own cold depth, as if it has its own consciousness. You feel it almost stare back at you.

A scoff slips past your lips, quiet but bitter. On your left ring finger... really? The symbolism is unmistakable, painfully so. The left ring finger—a spot traditionally reserved for unions of love, a mark that binds two hearts together. But for you, it's a symbol of something far more suffocating. This ring doesn't speak of affection or choice. It speaks of a contract. A binding agreement you were coerced into on the brink of death.

You'd like to think that in a normal situation you would've denied it but a voice in the back of your consciousness rejects that. You know you would have taken the deal.

Yuuta's voice comes from behind, cutting through the weight of your thoughts. You don't flinch, but his sudden presence forces you back into reality. His usual smile is present, though there's something different in his eyes today—a worry you can't quite ignore.

"Hey! You walk fast-" He pants, falling into step beside you. "Doing anything for lunch? Me and the others are... honestly really worried about you. Ever since you came back a few days ago from that night-blizzard-walk.. you've been off." His voice drops slightly as he tilts his head to try and meet your gaze.

It's hard to resist his pleading look. Yuuta has a way of being both persistent and comforting, and something about him makes you swallow your usual refusal. You nod, even though you'd planned to stay alone, to work through your thoughts—thoughts about the Blot, the contract, and the strange shift in the world since you'd returned.

Sighing inwardly, you follow him to the familiar table. As you lower yourself onto the bench, your thoughts still scattered, the sound of something unpleasant catches you off guard—a soft, squishy noise. You frown, reaching down to find a purple whoopie cushion beneath you.

Before you can say anything, Ace's laughter rings out, easily cutting through the table's chatter. "I told you it'd work! They're always in their own world, seriously."

Epel's high-five to Ace is audible, and you can almost feel their amusement. Deuce, on the other hand, shoots Ace a disapproving look. "A whoopie cushion? What are you, twelve?"

Ace chuckles, standing and grabbing the whoopie cushion from your hands before glancing back at the others, a mischievous grin still present on his face. "Firstly, I saw you laugh too, and hey, what can I say? I'm a guy who appreciates the classics." His crimson eyes flick to you, and before you can even process it, he taps the cushion gently on your head a few times. "Real spacey lately, huh?"

The words hang in the air, and for a split second, you freeze. Spacey. They're speaking first. They're acknowledging you first. After everything, after how invisible you've felt... now they decide to reach out?

Anger grows in your chest but you quickly suppress it. Your fingers instinctively brush the blot ring on your finger, feeling its cold weight. Thrive. The Blot's promise. The smile and soft words is the only thing you can offer right now, even if it feels a little too forced, too foreign on your face.

"Have I been?" You ask, the words coming out light and easygoing. "It's difficult to sleep in a rickety, haunted dorm. You and the others should sleepover more. I like the background noise."

It wasn't a full lie. You did feel less lonely when they visited, but the feeling only increased tenfold when you could hear everyone downstairs while you remained forgotten in your room. Still, you left the invitation open.

Just you wait. You thought, your smile dimming as Ace returned to his spot and the conversation flowed, your earlier anxieties and insecurities nulled by the ring thanks to the contract.

You'll ease yourself into their lives, each thread slipping through the spaces between them, invisible but vital. Not just the ones at the table, but everyone you've fought for, the ones who've forgotten you, the ones who've never seen you or bothered to try. You'll become a part of them so intertwined that they'll find it impossible to live without seeing you in every aspect of their days and nights.

In time, you'll make sure of it. You'll be everywhere—in their laughter, in their sorrows, in the smallest moments, the ones they think they can forget. They'll breathe you in without even realizing, and soon, every part of their lives will have a thread of you running through it. You'll be their lifeline.

part two

srry if its not the cute, comforting lovestory you were expecting lol

I'm sorta leaving it on an open end here to keep you all guessing ig lol. I can probably write separate minifics or whatever for this au I made or drabbles or maybe even a second chapter if anyone wants.

I wrote this in November and am posting it now so that was my procrastination ig

I've been sitting on this idea with no motivation to write it for probably two years so spare with me if it doesn't make sense or it's no good.

First time writing for tumblr and I haven't written outside of my notes app in a long time lol

[lustlovehart]

Oh my goodness??? This is horrifying 😭😭

I would literally pee my pants if I was Idia and Malleus just ominously said that. The way they don’t even show him either is so scary (╥_╥).

The end is coming for Diasmonia, and they’re really building it with this horrifying exchange 😭

Over blot Malleus fic... (a few spelling errors in the tags be warned >.<)

[cup1dt3a]

The Beckoning Call of the Darkness

Summary: It was all so fast one minute you’re walking back home then the next you’re being dragged by an inky substance to another peculiar world.

TW: Describes drowning and throwing up

You bit the side of your cheek as you looked at the money in your hand. Your stomach churned with guilt. You know it was wrong to steal from your friend, but you were too prideful to admit that your family went into debt and have barely been getting by… You frowned as the thought of you having to slowly sell half of your belongings ran through your mind once again. Putting those thoughts aside with a sigh you soon looked around yourself. It was late at night you currently were on a bench in the middle of the sidewalk waiting for your parents to pick you up. Usually you walked home, but due to the pouring rain and many tornado warnings you’ve been getting you felt safer with your mother coming to pick you up. It was too dangerous to really walk home especially ,since this was the more sketchy part of town. 

Tapping your hands on the cold metal of the benches arm rest as the droplets of shatter puttered and pattered on your old umbrella a sudden chill ran down your spine. You looked behind yourself only to see the Mystery Manor. It was an old broken down mansion left behind by a rich couple who had abandoned it presumably due to them being caught for tax evasion others thought they went missing in the 1970’s. Due to the place being in their name still to this day but their faces never seen again. The place hadn’t been touched since, until now. Months ago several students had gone missing with all of them mysteriously being reported near it or going into the abandoned Manner. Nobody knows or could even find out why all several of them went there. 

You felt anxious even being near the house as the harsh winds bumped into the police tape surrounding the house. You continued to tap even more looking for your mom soon texting her, but due to having no connection to the internet or anything at all you were left with your anxiety. This was great just great. You’re alone in a sketchy neighborhood, you stole from your friends, the weather is getting worse, and you’re all alone. 

Your tapping continues now in your foot as your eyes kept darting around. Looking back and forth. You felt as if something was watching you. Before you could look behind yourself soon a huge streak of lightening struck right next to you causing you to scream as you fled the bench. You ran as more and more dangerously close streaks of lightening continued struck the ground you fled to the nearest shelter you could find. It didn’t matter where.  You banged on the door that immediately broke causing you to crash inside the hard creaking wooden floor.

You grunted in pain as you crashed down onto the wooden floor knocking the air out of you. Taking a minute to catch your breath you begin to look around wincing from the pain and at the door you broke. This place must be old if you could have broken the door down so easily. As you got up, to take everything in the house looked pretty nice to be honest. For some odd reason the voice in your head was telling you to look around. As if on command you started to venture through the dusty house. There were manny dust covered pictures as you ventured throughout the house. The furniture was draped over with off white colored sheets due to years of never being washed. As you continued to look around just aimlessly wondering you soon were upstairs. Ignoring the many things out of place like the bright broken police tape wrapped around the pole on the staircase. In any other situation you’d be feeling the house trying to call your mother, but for some odd reason you felt as if something here was beckoning you to go to it. Continued to walk up the stairs each creaked under the weight of your foot almost like they were trying to tell you not to go through. Once at the top of the stairs you wondered throughout the dark grey halls. Some of the wallpaper was slowly ripping off, cobwebs, and bugs crawling across the dusty walls. But still you somehow paid no mind to it only trying to go to whatever was calling you. It was like a comforting humming of a familiar song. The voice was deep and very smooth. It was hypnotic in a way as you followed where you presumed the humming was coming from.

Continuing to wonder through the narrowing hallway you seen reached a room. It seemed like an old bedroom. Filled with cobwebs, dust, ripped up blue wallpaper, but something stood out to you. It was a golden mirror with an odd design around it. You walked to it ignoring all of your surroundings as the wind rattled the old cracked windows. But soon a bright glow emitted from the mirror blinding you for a second before a hand reached out to you. This wasn’t a normal hand at all, it was covered in ink. The ink dropped down onto the white desk as it reached out for you. Beckoning for you to take it in a glitching and deep voice with the two candles beside the mirror flickering  a bright green flame. 

You soon snapped out of the daze now full of fear. Before you even had any time to react the hand inky hand grabbed yours. It was too late to do anything as you screamed.

Dragged into nothing but an inky darkness. It was like quick sand and water. The more you struggled the faster you sank. The black waves kept hitting you harshly as if trying to knock you down. You tried to grab out at anything you could in hopes to getting out of the sticky ink. You managed to keep yourself buoyant for a second. You saw the mirror right in-front of you the broken old house was just in your reach as you grabbed out to the desk. Only to suddenly feel something wrapped around your waist and foot restrain you dragging you back under. The ink was literally dragging your feet down as you struggled up to the surface. Going further down you could breathe at all as the ink got into your lungs like a thick sap suffocating you. Just as quick as the ink dragged you down it soon dragged you all the way down. 

Minutes felt like hours and hours felt like years as you lost consciousness. Soon you got spit out onto a cold surface. Jolting you out of your passed out state immediately you choked up and spat out the horrific black substance. It was at least a pile of it. It felt sour and burnt your lungs as it fell out in large globs into the puddle. After a whole five minutes, you felt tired and about to pass out again as your vision blurred. 

There were echoing foot steps that soon followed as your eyes closed. All you could make out was a red-like blob and a blur. You could only make out the words

“Looks like another one bites the dust.” The cheeky voice chuckled.

Thank you all so much for reading this! This is my new series called the Isle of the Blot. It will be tagged that if anyone is interested in finding it. Any art I use in my series is mine.

Hope you’re all doing well and having a good day! @simping-on-the-daily

sincerely-Cupid 💖

[masterhallmark]

Ugh, I do this so much with so many characters

Phantom Blot x FemReader headcanons

Some of them are gender nuetral

CW: Brief Kidnapping mention

He stumbles upon you while scouting out a place he's planning to rob, and strikes up small talk to avoid suspicion.

Bonus idea: He's having a rare outing with his daughter, who immediately tries to pull an Anya from SpyXFamily and act as a wingman, "Oh, Dad, I want a Mommy...how about her?" "...What?"

He is surprised how smart you were. Not a super genius like himself, but smarter than most of the residents of Mouseton. Surely someone who would be nice to have around... Seems like he's going to be stealing more than he originally planned, because normal dating clearly isn't an option since his mugshot is everywhere. Yeah, you're getting kidnapped in the "nicest" way he can muster.

He tries very hard to win you over once he has you in his lair (and you calm down). He promises fortune, power, fame if you want it, luxuries beyond your wildest dreams, anything else you want to hear. All you have to do is be his. If this doesn't work, he's not afraid to subtly threaten you, too. He is a villain after all.

Should you accept his advances, he does his best to keep you a secret, just as he tried to keep his daughter a secret. He can't risk any other villains using you as a hostage.

He makes a hidden room for you to hide in whenever there are unwanted guests, complete with an emergency exit.

He's charming, acting like a complete gentleman, but you could never fully trust him. You're no fool, you know what he is.

He does genuinely try to spoil you, occasionally stealing a few extra necklaces and letting you pick some before selling the rest on the black market. He'll also steal high-end clothing, and sometimes... he'll actually BUY something.

He doesn't use pet names often, but when he does, he tries to stick to the "blot" theme. "My little spot" is a go to for when he's trying to butter you up. You catch on to this and after a while start to respond to "My little spot" with "What are you up to?"

If he starts calling you his queen or empress, it means he's got a world domination plan going on. These are his world domination specific petnames.

Oh, you'd better be ready to hear all his evil monologues, hear him complain about the other villains, etc. He's been needing someone he can vent to for YEARS.

He won't admit it, but he likes cuddles and other forms of physical affection. He wasn't given nearly enough affection as a child.

Oh, cool! He made robots to do all the chores and...turn into a robot suit for him to use? (Darkenblot reference)

He told his daughter he "saved this princess from a dragon" btw.

His daughter is a sweetheart. You would die for this child. It breaks your heart you have to lie and paint The Blot as the good guy and hide the fact he's actually a criminal mastermind. You don't see her too often since she's in the care of Mrs. Fragmuffin, but The Blot spoils her rotten, snd she starts calling you "Mommy" right away.

[rahhhrahhrahhh]

Okay, I don't know if it will spark or not your creativity but if not don't worry, I got PLENTY of inspiration, first of all I'm an idia stan so you can expect a lot of idia and platonic ortho with me x)

So could I please ask for idia with a gn or fem s/o, whatever you wish, and his s/o never understood why blot is considered dangerous as they/she was raised by a blot entity that took a liking to them/her (and of course the blot had some brain left) and plot twist being so exposed to blot made them/her a chimeria half human half blot ! (Ortho is shown to be able to sense blot so maybe ortho was curious why they/she had such an high level of constant blot without overblotting) bonus point if /!\ chapter 6 and 7 spoiler /!\ idia bring her to styx and somehow get found out by his parents and have to explain why does he date a chimeria half blot, and how they/she are so polite

Maybe I ranted a bit too much or went too specific so feel free to cut off some parts x)

im going to name you blue blorbo or idia anon from now on

[ Went completely off chart so I'm so sorry if this isn't what you wanted!]

Tw: none that I can think of, just fluff!

Blot-chimera!reader x Idia shroud

✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ┄•͙

You met Idia when you were fairly young, outside of his family's estate. You were playing in the forest nearby and he heard your cheerful laughter. Leaving his stuffed toys on the front lawn and out the gates, he ventured through the trees. Ortho was inside taking a nap so he was on his own, with only the sunlight guiding him.

But then

He saw you.

you looked so sweet, dancing around a small clearing in the woods. He didn't notice the blot monster lurking nearby, focusing only on you and how your laughter rung in his ears.

You heard a twig snap and gasped, finally noticing the blue haired boy. You looked at him curiously, not very spooked as to see he was a child, like you! You smiled and waved, walking over to him.

He took a step back, and you a step forward. Back, forward, back, forward, back until you had his back against a tree. You leaned in closely to admire him, his breath hitched.

"hi! My name's (name)! What's yours?"

You said, taking his hand in yours and shaking it. It took him a moment to process what was going on.

"uhm.. idia.." he replied quietly. You giggled and led him back to the small clearing "nice too meet you Idia! Would you like to play with me?"

"..sure.."

And thats were your friendship started

He'd often come over for play dates and the like, back before Ortho had the incident. His parents often wondering where he was going but didn't stop him. knowing the forest was safe and it was nearby, plus they had the tracking chip and his cellphone Incase he needed them.

But he did eventually Introduce you to his family, and boy were his parents surprised. They were wary of you at first but slowly warmed up, seeing you had no Ill intent but you did seem different from most kids.. you seemed sweet although, where were your parents?

Ortho loved you right away! He'd follow you and Idia everywhere! Playing, laughing, and laying on the grass admiring the stars.

You were there for him through everything, comforting him, giving him advice and listened to his woes.

You were his saviour, his safe space, never questioning why your blood was darker than most, unnaturally so. Your skin seeming sickly in a way. Or that strange feeling of dread he'd get when you came too close.

Eventually, he had to leave for nrc. You were upset ofcourse but you wanted him to be successful, promising him you'd be here when he came back.

And through those 4 years, you'd wait for him. The first to greet him when he'd come back from Winter break or summer vacation. The first to take him into your arms and tell him how much you missed him. The first person he'd rant to about the year.

But now he knew why he always felt strange when you'd get too close. Why you seemed different.. no, are different... He'd seen it in his fellow schoolmates.

You weren't fully human.. were you, sweetheart?

When he confronted you, you didn't know how to respond. Knowing you couldn't hide it forever but at the same time afraid of losing the one you held close. blurting it all out through tears, he finally pieced everything together. Getting the closure he needed after all these years

he held you close, shaky hands hesitantly petting your head. Now you were the one needing to be comforted. Telling him about how your parents dissapeared one night and were left all alone in your cabin in the woods, until a blot monster found you. Taking you in and raising you as its own, having been exposed to it for so many years it wasn't a surprise that it tainted your human genetics.

You cried about how you never went to a school, or a doctor, never having been let far from the forest. He nodded and squeezes you softly, calming down a bit as the only noises leaving your lips now we're hiccups and sniffling.

You were something completely different from him. A new interspecies that should be examined, something incredibly rare. But he didn't have the heart to do that to you. You were far too special, you needed to be protected.

"I promise.. to keep you s-safe and warm.. for the rest of our lives.. I've loved you for so long, (name)-chan.. I want to be with you.. s-so please accept my love..?"

His voice surprised you, looking up at him with wife curious eyes.

He said it so unsurely, you couldn't help but smile and nod your head. Burying your face into his chest, while he finally noticed the blot creature watching you both. It nodded it's head in approval and dissapeared into the dark. The dread was gone, Being replaced with happiness and relief. He picked you up and hurriedly took you into his family's mansion. Laughing loudly.

He was glad he was brave the day he met you, wandering away from his comfort zone. Otherwise, he doubted he'd have someone so perfect in his arms

[NOT PROOFREAD AND IS UNEDITED. I WILL REVIEW LATER!]

Tags: @twistedtavern

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

I dont know if someone already asked this, but imagine during the Proluge when Yuu, Grim, Ace and Deuce met the blot ghost, Yuu got in contact with a little portion of blot, but it disappeared quikly into their body so nobody noticed.

Then during the coming Overblots of the (vice)housewarden the Blot in Yuu's body would evolute themselve into more a symbiot to Yuu kinda like Venom but the Blot cant speak.

So Yuu could be able to do all the things that Venom can do (hope you know who i mean or else this would be kinda awkard 😅)

And so Yuu wouldnt really be able to overblot since it's a part of them already

Thats kinda like the concept of my Yuu

I have more things i could talk about this AU, if you are interested ofcourse

Have a nice day/night 😊

Hey hey we talked about a venom Yuu along with a more Blot Monster Yuu that has their own tag! I think you would appreciate it! I love Yuus like this

[s0dium]

Sex Pollen

Geto x F!Reader

A/n: This was pulled out from the depths of my fantasies

Word count: 2.2k

Synopsis: Oh no! You and Geto get hit by an aphrodisiac curse technique on a mission!! What should you do now?

Warning: Breeding, masturbation, begging, mating press, rough sex, desperate sex, marathon sex, doggy, squirting

You think there's something wrong with you. Something feels off, you feel off, rather, you feel hot.

You bolt upright in your bed, flinging the sheets away as if a second more underneath them would burn you. No, something was definitely off. Your mind buzzed, and it couldn't be from the adrenaline of the mission, that was hours ago, it was midnight now.

Your eyes adjusted to the darkness of your room and you bit inside of your cheek. It wasn't just physical exhaustion that draped over your limbs—it was something else, something deeper and more consuming. The air around you felt thicker, every breath you took seemed laced with a heavy, intoxicating warmth. You press a hand to your forehead, trying to quell the rising temperature of your skin, but it provides little relief.

A creeping heat suffuses your body and an unmistakable pulse emanates from your core.

Where you.... Turned on?

A sickly-warm-funny feeling bubbles in your stomach and you're becoming aware of how your skin is starting to stick to your tank top and that the cloth between your legs feels....wet?

Hesitantly, you snake a hand under your waistband and underwear, releasing a small gasp when your skin makes contact with your arousal. You're soaked.

Why is this happening, why now? Your mind races through the events of the previous day. It was mainly just you and Geto on a mission, one like any other—find the curse, exorcise, clean up the mess. Could it be the technique you were hit with?

Could Geto be feeling this too?

Your heart jumps at the thought but you try to shake it off. You know you should get up, wake up Shoko, wake up Geto even, but you can't seem to will your legs to move. Your mind was is just too occupied with something else, the promise of something sweeter, something that is making the funny feeling in your stomach spread.

Without much of a thought, you press an index finger on your throbbing clit, garnering a sharp sigh from you. Just from that simple touch pleasure ripples through your body, making your toes curl. You do the movement again except this time you start drawing light circles on the sensitive nub. You can feel yourself squeeze around nothing from your own ministrations, bliss clouding your hazy mind.

It wasn't enough though. You needed more.

You dart your tongue across your lips and try to focus on the pleasure, on getting some relief. You try to dip one of your fingers inside your hole while continuing the ministrations on your clit with your other hand, but it proves too difficult, your fingers are too small.

Tears blotted your eyes from frustration, letting out a soft whine from the relentless heat that continued to rack your body. Oh how you wish you had someone else to help you, oh how you wish Geto was here.

Your core throbs at the thought. Yes, that was it, he is what you need. You resume your ministrations this time focusing on the euphoric thought of Geto suguru. He would be so good to you wouldn't he be? Oh you bet he'd fill you up so well too, fuck you just right, get rid of this painful arousal, and fill your mind with only pleasure. He would probably talk you through it too, let you pull and tug on his long black hair oh you can practically feel his hands on you right now, so big and warm.

You don't even realize that you are loudly moaning Geto's name at this point, too busy trying to grapple with the searing heat coursing through your veins. You feel like your body is surrounded by an invisible flame, fuck it feels like you are going to die. The room around you blurs into insignificance, as your thoughts fixate solely on your Geto Suguru, his absence a gaping void that echoes through your heightened senses. You feel a desperate craving, a pull so strong it borders on physical pain, rendering you breathless and sobbing for his touch, his presence.

"Suguru, please...." you gasp between sobs, your voice breaking with each word. The tears stream down your cheeks, blurring your vision as you clutch your sheets.

As if on cue, the door swings open and you think that there must be a god out there listening to you because there Suguru stands, backlit by the hallway light, his broad silhouette framed in the doorway.

Before you can even get a word in he is already next to you sitting on your bed and cupping your face with his large warm hands.

Deep violet eyes examine your face as his thumb brushes away the tears on your cheek.

"I-" You choke, a wave of emotions crashing down on your mind stifling the words that desperately wanted to escape your mouth.

"Shhhh, I know baby I know," he coos kissing your forehead and tracing your jaw with his thumb. "I feel it to, but I'm gonna take care of it ok? Don't worry about a thing m'gonna take such good care of you I promise."

He gently tilts your chin up, meeting your doe-eyed gaze with eyes that seems to devour you. Slowly, he lowers his lips to yours, encapsulating your trembling mouth in a deep, comforting kiss that steadys the chaotic beat of your heart. You sigh into the kiss and let his entangle with yours.

As the kiss deepens, he shifts slightly, his lips traveling from yours down to your neck. A soft gasp escapes you as he plants soft kisses along your skin, occasionally nipping and sucking at the delicate skin. You are so lost in the feeling of his lips that you don't even notice his hand on your inner thigh until his finger grazes your lips.

You jump at the sensation but Suguru places a light reassuring kiss on your lips

"jesus, please just, fuck, gotta get you ready just a little bit"

You shake your head quickly and place your hand on Suguru's crotch, the caress of his growing bulge making him groan.

"Please sugu, please just fuck me I can take it."

You don't have to tell him twice.

In one fluid motion Suguru tears off your underwear, lays you on your back and positions himself between your legs.

"Been waiting to do this for say long," he mummurs as he pulls down his sweatpants and whips out his dick. You thickly gulp at the sight, you could've guessed he was big not this big, could he even fit in you? A white beed of precum dribbled from his pretty pink tip and down his length and he uses the liquid to stroke himself in a few fluid motions.

You could hear your heart in your ears and adrenaline coursed through your veins at rocket fire speed. The need in between your legs was too much, it was clouding your head and twisting your stomach so tight you almost felt sick. You jolt when his fat tip bumps into your clit; collecting your juices before pressing against your quivering hole.

"Suguru please~" You whine and nearly miss the way his ears go bright red at your words

"I know baby I know Don't worry, I got you.”

You're cut off by the feeling of his length spreading you so helplessly wide and his tip smashing against something which must be your cervix you think. It’s painful, but in the pain is so much pleasure. He presses his forehead against yours as he slides into you, gripping the sheets with his supporting hand as your hot, wet entrance swallows his cock. Instinctively, your cunt squeezed around the foreign intrusion, trying to push it out, making Suguru let out a low groan of his own and pushing even deeper into you. 

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he said hoarsely.

“Ngh so goo-"

You dont get to finish the thought because he pulls out and rams back into you with such a fever everything goes blank for a second.

His thrusts started out shallow and slow, testing the waters for how much he could get away with. What your limits were, and if you could fully take him for what he wanted. But that quickly changed to harsher thrusts, until he’s using you like his personal cock sleeve, shaping your insides and bruising your cervix until your entire body jolts with sensitivity.

Every thrust knocks the wind out of you, his tip smushing right against your cervix only to be pulled out and rammed back in again. And the sounds, god the sounds where sinful. Wet skin against skin echoed through the room and the sloshing sound of both of your arousals makes your eyes roll back.

You don't know what's happening, you couldn't even tell someone your own name if they asked. Your grip on the sheets was starting to get loose, tears flowing down to your cheeks, mouth hanging open with drool pooling on the sheets as you were already fucked out of your mind.

"Come on baby just keep your legs on my shoulders. Can you do that for me?" His breath is hot against your ear. "F-fuck please" he says through a groan. If you weren't so fucked out of your mind you would think that he was actually begging. And you were right. Suguru isn't a whimpering man but here he is, voice cracking from the vice grip your cunt  

You are too dumb to reply, only spurting outcries and whines about how good he was fucking you. He snapped his hips so fast that everything seemed like a dream, the bed was shaking immensely with the headboard banging on the wall and you were losing your mind from the friction of his dick against your walls.

"Wanna fuck you every day,"  he grunts out, pumping into you, the length and level of his arousal brutal. "fuck fuck fuck," he swears, as he brings a hand to the back of your head and presses your lips onto his. Your so dazed you practically drool into the kiss, letting him entangle his tongue with yours until spit smeared on either side of your lips. He doesn’t slow the movement for a second as he kisses you, giving you full, hard thrusts, your breasts bouncing from the brutality.

Suddenly, it hits you. Like an ignition of fire your brain goes white and you feel yourself ascend to euphoria.

“You gonna cum baby?" he coos into your hear, pressing light kisses on the hollow of your neck. "fuck, cum for me baby, please, cum on me."  His hand flew between your bodies to rapidly rub your clit back and forth, hurtling you towards your orgasm. Your pussy tightens so hard around his cock that he nearly has to stop his thrusts. Your mouth grows lax as you feel yourself splitting in two, coming with his cock buried deep inside you. 

“That’s it,” He fucks you through your orgasm, pouring every ounce of his strength into chasing his own high. His thrusts became sloppy, hips stuttering before he stilled his hips flushed against yours, burying himself in your creamy cunny.

“Fuck fuck fuck FUCK!”

His grip tightened significantly, a loud moan of your name slipping from his lips as his own orgasm washed over him, coming so hard he sees white. But he's not done.

Before you could recover, Suguru rolls you onto your back, in doggy, and slips into you. After the first thrust he has to hold still for a second, knowing that if he kept moving, if he gave himself up to the exquisite tightness, the heat, he would burst inside you again. But the moment of rest only lasts for a second. He resumes his brutal pace, pumping himself in and out of you. 

You are wetter then ever down there, there is no longer friction only the mind-numbing pleasure of his tip hitting your cervix again and again. 

There is no warning when he cums inside you again, you only know when you feel his cum drip down your thigh.

"Feel so good, you feel so good baby."

You're in heaven right now. Your mind has gone to a different space detached from this world. Every time Suguru pushes into you, his tip of his dick rubbed perfectly against the gummy spot in you that made your whole body shake.

“Fuckkkk… I’ll fill you up, make you a mommy, you’d like that wouldn’t you… shit.”

All you can do is dumbly nod as you felt the crescendo of your euphoria building and building. It was so hot, your skin was radiating heat and before you could say anything you were tumbling toward the end faster then you could put a stop to it.

“S’feels weird~” you babble, too fucked dumb to properly pronunciate words. 

“Oh yeah? What does it feel like?” He coos, grabbing either side of your hips harder to fuck himself into you from your behind.

“Like m’gonna pee I don’t-hah-” something was pressing down on your stomach and it was overtaking your body; too fast to put a stop to it. You started to shake, abdomen clenching and mouth going into the lock jaw, tongue rolling out as you squirted clear juices everywhere.

“Oh f- good girl" He says through a groan, not stopping for a second as your pussy fluttered and clenched around him.

[chibi-celesti]

TW: Yandere, recovery

Wow! This was an emotional roller coaster of a series! You did great conveying the heroing tale Y/N went through all the way to the relief of finally returning back safe and sound. And permanently mother hen'd by everyone.

Yandere Overblot Universe Part 7 (Final)

Rules | Kofi | TWST Masterlist (3)

Mmmh….”

You’re body was full of aching, the stress of running and encountering the worst sides of your friends weighing on you so heavily you debated if you wanted to sleep more

“I would’ve gotten my henchhuman back just fine if the others hadn’t held me back!”

“Grim…you still have nightmares of the overblots don’t you?”

“W-w-what? Who do you think I am? I’m going to be one of the greatest mages of all time those guys don’t scare me!”

“Which is why you came crying to us when they went in?”

“N-n-o!”

Hearing that familiar voice and feeling those familiar paws tapping on your stomach you couldn’t help letting your lip twitch into a smile

“Aw looks like someone’s awake. Care to grace us with your presence (Y/n)?”

The egging in Jade’s voice reminded you of Floyd 

Almost like he was warning you to wake or feel the wrath of relentless tickles

So you did

“(Y/n)!”

You held Grim tightly into your chest breathing in the smell of his ash smelling fur

It never felt so good to have your lungs full of his brimstone smelling fur and not ink

Finally looking up you got to see the familiar faces of your saviors plus a growing crowd

“Don’t tell me your terrified of us again herbivore?” 

Leona’s there sitting in the chair closest to the bed next to Ace and Deuce like he’s been guarding you this whole time

“If they are they have every right. Tell me Darling what horrors were in there?” 

It’s Vil on the otherside his makeup faded around the eyes like he’s been crying 

He’s holding your hands so tightly 

“Don’ get so worried. They’re strong like me.” 

Epel chimes in with a smile, one that earns an awkward look from the Heartslabyul duo

“Not strong enough to not nearly drop them coming back.”

“Shuddap !”

“Hey hey no need to fight you guys! All that matters is that (Y/n) is safe and sound!”

Jamil doesn’t care to comment before shoving himself past Vil to lay something warm in your lap

“I figured they probably didn’t have any real food, so I made you extra.”

The savory smell made you and Grim very excited, both of you looking at the container with anticipation

“Thank you Jamil!”

He looks proud, holding his head away as if that would hide his flustered face

“No problem it’s what any good…friend would do.”

“Yes just like any good friend would insist you have tea before indulging in something heavy.”

“I’m not sure if it’s tea you should be having but something light is preferred.”

“Riddle, Azul?”

Riddle lightly bows his head in a silent apology

“I apologize for not being here when you woke but I had to ensure that the matter of this mirror was taken care of.”

You tilt your head thinking to yourself

It felt like ages ago that you had gone in expecting to follow your friends to some resort a small group was going to 

It all feels foggy

But you barely recall thinking about home 

Not ramshackle home but your home

Maybe that was why you ended up…there

“I too was working awfully hard to bar that location would never be seen by anyone ever again.”

Azul uselessly added but he was puffing his chest like Grim did when he put out his flames on his own

“Uh thanks Azul and Riddle.”

“But of course, it didn’t matter that such a thing has never happened before you. With a student’s safety at risk we couldn’t possibly still have it be accessible by any means.”

“Yes, yes you can pay me back with a small favor. When you’re better of course.”

“Uh Azul I think you forget they never asked to pay you back.”

“Yeah Azul can’t you wait until they’re not bedridden to try and scam them? That’s like such trash behavior.”

The Octavinelle dorm leader sneers at the ipad you didn’t realize was propped on the end table next to your bed

Lifting it up to look in the camera, you wait for the video chat to properly activate

Ding Ding

Finally you can see the dark expanse of his room highlighted by his screens and a small unfinished strip of blue LED lights

“Don’t turn the camera, the normies wouldn’t understand.”

You giggle, “I won’t but why isn’t Ortho here. Usually he’d be here for you!”

Idia looks off to the side as if he’s contemplating what lie he’s going to tell

“He’s just…doing stuff with the mirror. To keep you safe an all that!

“Aww well thank you too Idia! I really appreciate everyone jumping into help especially you guys!”

Looking at Jade, Ace, Deuce, and Jack who’s been sitting near the doorway of the infirmary and Cater who’s been weirdly quiet at the foot of your bed

Looking past the other dorm leaders you scrunch your brow

“Where’s Sebek and Silver? Not that I demand everyone greet me when I wake up but I want to thank them as soon as possible.”

The others collectively swoon smile at your gratitude before awkwardly avoiding your gaze

“Let’s say they needed to occupy their attention towards someone else who’s going through…a crisis.”

As if on cue the crack of thunder has everyone jumping; the sudden storm making everyone tense

Faster than you can register the door swings open and there is none other than Malleus Draconia who silently demands everyone move

Reluctantly they listen

With an unusual gentleness, he kneels on the floor to somewhat meet you at your eye-level 

Cupping your cheeks with his tingly feeling hands where were his gloves

“Are you alright prefect? Breathing? None of your small fragile limbs broken?”

You laugh as you pat your hand against his 

Your silent plea to stop squishing your face

He doesn’t listen

“I fwine Tsuno!”

He sighs resting his head into your lap, shoving Grim out of his place out of the way with his horns

“I feel ashamed. To know I could have prevented such tragedy and yet by my actions you were in danger again!”

You laugh and lightly pat his head like you would Grim

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault. Besides I’m sure it could’ve happened to anyone.”

Malleus involuntarily moves his tail tripping Epel who wasn’t too far

Sebek and Silver run in out of breath

“M-Master M-Malleus WE ARE HERE!”

“Glad to see you’re awake, (Y/n). You had us all worried for a second.”

You smile, “Thank you, Sebek, Silver. You guys really saved me back there if you hadn’t come–”

You didn’t want to finish and it seems like no one needed to everyone settling in there original spots around Malleus to keep talking

As if you hadn’t faced their exact inky opposites hours ago

Jack helped you with the IV in your arm, repeating something Crewel had said about refilling it of course Ace teased him about it 

“Hey everybody heads up Mama Hounds coming.”

Cater’s warning had the first-years straightening up

The dorm leaders only adjusting themselves so that no one was touching you

Wouldn’t want to be sent to detention now+

“(Y/n)-Pup glad you’re up. I see the little fan club of your remains strong. Are they bothering you by any chance?”

You could see the suffocating grip he had on his crock and the scornful twist of his face

You figured it best to take the edge off before he lashed out someone

“Uh nope. Actually Jack was telling me about the IV and stuff.”

“Hm he did? Good then, pup. The rest of you, back up! After their medicine I won’t allow you all to play watch dog so you might as well start drawing lots now.”

A collective groans fills the room as they reluctantly prepare to draw lots

Blocked by Crewel who changes your IV, checks your temperature, before walking you vaguely through the cocktail of potions and pills he needs you to take

Unable to see the group all you can tell is that every time they pick a winner a new debate is held

While you didn’t condone violence like Ace being thrown near the door, it did feel nice to be wanted? missed

And the fights being anything but the inky use of their overblotted unique magic

“That medicine should be kicking in very soon,” Crewel lays you down lovingly wiping the back of his hand over your face and cheek

Following your gaze he sees you looking at the still bickering group

Hiding his gag he turns to you with a warm smile on his face

“I’ll break it up just sleep now, my sweet pup.” He kisses the top of your head 

lingering to watch you lazily blink, submitting to the induced drowsiness

Satisfied he turns and gives the boys a single look which has them take the fighting outside

Escaping the fray is Grim

Who scampers away to curl into your side already preparing to snore right alongside

“I’m so glad you’re back.”

“Thanks Grim I’m happy to be back.”

“Hm,” he’s already dozing off, “I also wanted to say Grim likes you're new choker it’s kinda…cute. But not cuter than mine!”

He’s already out and you’re going over his last words

Choker?

You recall the the outfit change within Blotted Riddle’s domain and the following pain that came from it 

Thinking back on it you didn’t remember feeling choked at the neck at all

Looking down you could barely make out the small dangling rose pendant 

Instead of being held up by some inky string it was a neat simple woven piece

That didn’t feel the slightest bit restricting 

Just snug

You hold the pendant in your hand, noting it’s warmth from hanging on your neck

You search for a clip to undo it, planning to inspect it 

But alas you don’t find one and for a choker expected to stretch off of you it was hard to pull off

Even though you were struggling for a bit with it, it dawns on you just how tired you are now

Those meds were really fast

And you suspect your lack of strength to pull it off is thanks to them

Planning to do it later, you settle into the infirmary bed holding Grim close while you sleep

Finally you could rest, having survived those Overblotted friends of yours once again

Happy that you were safe with your real friends, in the real Twisted Wonderland

The Heartslabyul’s Vice dorm leader’s stomach churned at the swirling shards at his feet. Glimpses of his blotted dorm-leader’s angry glowing eyes unsettling him the most. As instructed he had his clones solemnly collect the broken pieces putting them into the various magical satchels. Lining up, each of them handed their respective satchels to the robot boy. Dutifully waiting for him to apply an unmeasurable amount of heat; reducing the shards of the mirror into a silvered, inky slop conducive with it’s magical origin.

“Mr. Crowley?  Was this…necessary?”

The headmaster’s golden eyes shifted to his student. Filling him with a sense of dread, he narrowly scraped the surface of during Riddle’s overblot. Nonetheless Crowley smiled apathetically, a faux disguise of pride as he held his hand out to the shards still being collected.

“This was entirely necessary. Our dear prefect has been plagued with the dangerous idea of using the mirrors to return home. It is through my extreme generosity that we’ve deterred them safely.”

Ortho’s attention changed from Cater’s double still taking the pouch and performing his function. A technical noise rang out his yellow eyes darting from side to side as though reading a list of stats. 

“This venture, headmaster, gave the prefect four abrasions to their forehead, a mild concussion, sprained ankle, and an insurmountable amount of aches that will leave them bedridden for approximately 3 days. I would conclude this was far from safe.”

Cater almost smiled but the guilt of the events prior to this made him feel…wrong. He had covered for Riddle; calling it a dorm-leader and vice dorm leader meeting when they went through the mirror on a weekend. Meeting up with the Octavinelle heads it felt criminal to quietly stand behind as Crowley spoke about the spell to cast on the mirror–an identical to the one they had for their dorm. Riddle, ever the observer, nodded at him in assurance. 

“This is for them. If they believe going home now is best it is our duty as their…friends to intervene.”

The small smile he gave barely soothed his spirit. The smiling dorm and vice-dorm leader of Octavinelle didn’t help. 

“Don’t fret a few small illusions to make sure they stay. Do you want them to leave, Cater?”

The sound of his name on the octopus’ slimy tongue, made him shape up. There was only one person that would make him support the strongest students’ unique magic to summon the spirits of their defeated, blotted counterparts. Only for the same person would he actually humor sending his clones to the opposite ends of the island to hide the melted shards.

“Only for you (Y/n)...We did it all for you!”

The worst part about it was that he couldn’t confess. When he held your hand the next day rattling off the hashtags made in your honor, all he could do was lie when he looked at the choker on your neck. 

The only shard remaining of a barrier to your world. Your real world.

“Why do you keep looking so guilty, Cater?”

He sighed fighting the urge to curl into your lap and cry,”Nothing I just wish I could’ve been there for you…sooner I mean.”

The smile you gave him made him swoon and want to die at the same time.

“But Cater you were there for me,” could your hand in his get any warmer,”Even if you weren’t there in the beginning it’s like I could still feel you…all of you watching after me! Like heroes prepping to save the day!”

You had no idea how right you were.

[inkblot-inc]

Just wanted to let you know I still think about a tigershark!reader and hyena!reader all the time. Hope you’re doing well!

You and me both, bud 😂

I've been enjoying my time detached from my pen and paper to spend time with my peoples n stuff, but I will say Jaws (tigershark!reader) will be seeing more action than hyena!reader in the coming weeks/months.....from how my masterdoc is looking anyways 🤓

[prettybugsinbandages]

Blot!reader pt. 2

Part 2 to this

This is a darker story. I suggest you refrain from reading it if you're in a fragile mental state or unable to handle darker themes.

Steps echoed softly against the snow as you made your way toward Mr. S's Mystery Shop, the sound somehow muted, swallowed by the heavy quiet of the world around you. It felt oddly distant, as if the entire universe had drawn its breath and left you alone with the sound of your footsteps. The fog clouding your thoughts lifted slightly as Grim darted around your legs, animatedly recounting how he and Yuuken had gotten into trouble earlier that day. His enthusiasm was contagious, pulling a chuckle from you despite yourself—a rare flicker of light in the usual gray haze.

The shop door slid open, a warm breeze rushing out to greet you like an old friend. The chill melted from your bones as you stepped inside, the scent of old wood and something faintly spicy filling the air. You followed Grim down the narrow aisles, your eyes wandering across the haphazard stacks of oddities and trinkets. The faint hum of a space heater buzzed in the background, blending with the soft thuds of items being restocked.

Your gaze landed on Grim busy packing away cans of tuna into his own basket. The extra weight of the thaumarks in your pocket served as a gentle reminder of Crowley's recent miscalculation of Ramshackle's weekly allowance. The headmage likely thought himself generous—he wasn't. So none of you bothered to correct his mistake.

A little extra was hardly a sin, and in your eyes, it was long overdue.

Leaving Grim to his own devices—his attention firmly locked on a staff member restocking the vending machine and occasionally eyeing the tuna cans with restrained interest—you made your way to the produce section. Your dormmates had sent you out with a list, and you were determined to fulfill their requests without incident. On your way back, a treat caught your eye. The packaging was flashy, almost comically obnoxious yet charming. The picture on the front was practically begging to be tasted, and you decided it was well-deserved after... well, everything

The sound of beeping filled the store, blending with the hum of quiet conversations and footsteps. At the till, you placed your basket on the counter and waited while the cashier scanned your items. Stifling a yawn into your sleeve, you reminded yourself that dinner would be soon. Briefly wondering if you'd make it back in time. A light brush against your neck jolted you from your thoughts. A hand reached past your shoulder, casually turning one of your items over.

"Ahh.. You got the last, huh? These are so popular on social media these days. Enjoy it for me, 'kay?"

The voice behind you was playful, with a hint of mock disappointment, quickly replaced by cheerful teasing. The arm withdrew just as you turned to find none other than Cater Diamond standing behind you, his signature easy-going smile already in place.

Your lips twitched, an instinct to respond stirring but words failed you. Instead, you gave a polite nod and returned to what you were doing, keeping your attention on the cashier. Cater didn't seem to mind; his light banter shifted toward Grim, who chuckled along with him, occasionally adding his own commentary.

As much as you had once longed for moments like this—to be seen, spoken to, acknowledged, the confidence you'd briefly held earlier had crumbled.

The sun was already setting by the time you left the shop, casting the sky in shades of muted blue and grey. Though the snow had stopped for the day, the cold lingered, biting at your fingertips even through your coat. You buried your hands deep in your hoodie pockets, the weight of the grocery bags straining against your arms.

"Come on, little star. You wanted to shine, didn't you? Why hide now? You're making a waste of me."

The Blot's voice echoed in your head, silken and sweet with a bitter edge. The ring on your finger grew uncomfortably warm, almost burning against your skin—a searing reminder of your contract. Your pulse quickens as guilt crashed over you in relentless waves, tangling with rising panic. You had made a promise to yourself—a cruel, unflinching vow to get your revenge. To make them feel what you had felt. To become so important that losing you would destroy them. And yet here you were, frozen in place, paralyzed at the thought of receiving exactly what you'd wanted for so long: acknowledgement.

Worse still, you found yourself too afraid to even wield the power you had traded so much to obtain, recalling how you foolishly agreed to the Blot's honeyed words that night without asking more. Then again, your time had been running out like an hourglass with a hole in it.

Grim's tug at your pant leg pulled you from your trainwreck of a mind, the words spoken softly by the blot still resonating within your mind, unable to be pushed aside and filling you with some irritation. Blinking, you tried to reorient yourself, offering him a half-formed reassuring response—until a familiar figure caught your attention near the store's exit. Cater.

"Cater.. right?" you said, tilting your head just enough to feign casual curiosity.

His bright green eyes met yours, lighting up with recognition. "Yeah! And you're... uh..." He trailed off, scratching the back of his head with a sheepish laugh, threading his fingers through his orange hair. "One of the Ramshackle prefects, right? You're so hard to get ahold of." His laugh was easygoing, but something about it hinted at familiarity, like he'd been trying to speak to you for some time now. Your jaw tightened at the thought.

You knew who he was, of course. Cater Diamond—the social butterfly, the NRC blog king, the guy who talked to nearly everyone or updates on his fast-paces student-run blog. One of the many who treated you like a nameless voice in the crowd, a background character at best. But something in his words made hope flicker faintly in your chest, a dangerous ember waiting to catch fire. Had he really been trying to reach out all along? Were you just that hard to approach..? Doubt creeped in momentarily before you brushed it off. He's lying.

The doubts clung to you like oil on fabric and your smile almost faltered. Almost. You caught it in time, replacing hesitation with a soft chuckle as you offered your name.

"You said these treats are popular online, right?" you asked, gesturing toward the flashy package. "Why? Some influencer?"

His eyes lit up, and you knew you'd hit the right note. As the two of you walked toward Ramshackle together, Cater launched into a detailed explanation about the trending treat—some influencer's viral snack review had sent demand soaring. You listened, nodding at just the right moments, letting him fill the space with his cheerful energy.

Eight minutes and fifteen seconds. The longest conversation you'd had with anyone outside of Grim or the Yuus since... well, since home.

At the front gate to Ramshackle, you paused and opened a pack of treats. Splitting it nearly in half, you handed one portion to Cater. "Sam's restocking in a whole week. You wouldn't want to miss out on the trend, right?"

For just a moment your usual resolve wavered. You knew what you intended to do—make them all regret forgetting you, bring everything crashing down—but right now... right now, you just wanted to feel a little less lonely.

Cater grinned, his eyes crinkling with the motion. "Our little secret, yeah? Guess that makes us snack buddies now. Next time, my treat—you can totes hold me to that!"

His words sparked a fleeting warmth, a rare feeling of belonging. You nodded, unable to summon a proper response.

Just for a bit... this was okay.

You tighten your grip on the bags as the warmth from the interaction fades, the stinging cold of the winter air nipping at your flesh once again.

It had been a few months since it all began—the Blot, the deal, and your decision to tear everything down. Returning to Ramshackle after parting with some friends, you shut your bedroom door behind you, the warped hinges protesting with a grating scrape against the frame. Your thoughts swirled from the events of the day, seeming vague and hazy even though it happened only a few hours ago.

"I've missed you." A voice crooned from behind—smooth and sweet, yet laced with something razor-sharp. If you could assign an item to a voice, it'd be a sugar cube.

"I was gone for two hours." you replied, setting your bag down and beginning the slow unwinding from your day. You never really knew if the Blot lived in the ring on your finger—whispering its thoughts directly into your mind—or if it was free to roam as its own entity. Tonight, it was lounging on your bed, propped up on one elbow in a mockery of comfort, the picture of lazy contentment. Despite being a humanoid figure of pure shadow, it radiated an unmistakable fondness. If shadows could smile, you knew it was smiling at you now.

"Two hours too long," it purred, with a hint of petulance bleeding into its honeyed tone.

As you sat at your desk, the Blot drifted close, leaning over your figure until both your reflections appeared in the small mirror. Its fingers, dark and lithe, combed slowly through your hair—gentle, almost reverent. Or was it mocking possessiveness?

"Do you think they'd miss you if you left for longer?" it mused softly. "Or would you slip their minds again, like you always used to?"

The question struck a nerve. You averted your gaze from its reflection, unwilling to entertain the thought as your jaw unconsciously clenched, deciding to test the waters, you shot back a reply a little too sharp for your liking. "Are you jealous?"

You turned to try and catch a gleam of its reaction, anything to give you a better understanding of the enigmatic being you've tied yourself to.

"Of them? Never." it whispered, shadowy lithe fingers tracing along your jaw, gently tilting your head back to meet its gaze in the mirror once again. "They don't know you like I do."

A chill crawled down your spine as its grip lingered a moment too long. Silence stretched between you, heavy with words left unsaid—words only the Blot seemed to know.

"How was your day, my little adventurer?" it murmured, its voice dropping to something low and intimate, almost conspiratorial. The way it spoke made it seem as though its words were meant for your ears alone, a secret shared just between the two of you.

You didn't respond immediately, focusing on your homework instead before offhandedly responding. "You're talkative today."

The air shifted subtly, the Blot retreating to your bed once more. It flopped onto your sheets like a restless cat, rolling and twisting the fabric with a peculiar energy, almost playful in its antics. For a creature so powerful, it had a strange, childlike quality in moments like these—unsettling, yet somehow familiar the way it could switch from suave and seductive to childish and pesky.

"Perhaps I'm feeling nostalgic." It mused after a pause. Was that vulnerability bleeding through, or just another calculated lure to pull you in deeper?

"Ask me something," it offered, voice as smooth as silk, "I'll humor you with an answer—a gift for all you've done, my dove."

You hesitated. There were so many questions but one had tumbled from your lips before you could stop it. "What are you?"

"You already know the answer." It interrupted, its voice dripping with mirth. It almost seemed to avoid the question, a moment of lost composure that piqued your interest.

Your disappointment must've shown—your eyes narrowed, brows furrowing and lips pursing just slightly into a pout or protest—as the Blot paused, considering you. Finally, it relented, leaning closer with a softer tone.

"Another. Ask me another. I'll give you more because it's you."

Time stretched as you considered your options once again—more carefully this time to pull back as many layers as you can grasp to reveal just a bit more. The Blot was clearly fond of you for one reason or another, but why?

You asked, your voice steady but curious. "What were you?"

The question hung in the air like a heavy cloth, wet and suffocating. For a moment, the Blot stilled. Then it smiled—a slow, deliberate curve of its shadowy mouth.

"You're so curious," it purred, voice dropping to a velvet murmur. "I love that about you."

Before you could react, it was there, face-to-face with you again, close enough that the air seemed to hum with its presence. Its tone grew lower, softer, yet charged with something deeper. The air had grown heavier. When it spoke, its voice was softer, yet somehow deeper and filled with something ancient and still thrumming with life. "Once... I was something like you. Real. Tangible. Alive."

"Wh-"

"We'd get along. At least I like to think we would" Its voice gained a firmer edge, almost wistful, yet underlined with certainty. "No... I know we would. I've seen what it's like to be forgotten." The Blot sounded firm as if it had substance behind such an egregious claim.

You recoiled slightly at the sureness of its tone as the tension thickened, words caught in your throat as you searched for a response. But the Blot spoke again, its voice growing almost tender.

"Yes. That's how I'd explain it. But it's all in the past. And now... here we are. Together."

Its fingers laced with yours, dark and cold yet strangely warm at the same time. Its thumb gently traced the rim of the ring on your finger—the physical reminder of your contract.

For a moment, it almost felt like an embrace—warm in its own strange way—before the Blot retreated at the sound of a firm knock at your door.

"Human! Come downstairs! We're watching films and consuming takeout!" Sebek's voice rang out, loud and commanding as always. You blinked, suddenly remembering your prior engagements for the evening.

On the other side of the door, Sebek continued his monologue. "Unless you fear the horror genre?" His tone wavered between challenge and care before taking a haughty turn and somehow louder. "Shall I request a film more suited to your frail constitution? I shall do it only to protect you from disgrace!"

His rapid footsteps retreated down the hall, leaving you in a strange quiet once again. Your gaze lingered on the Blot, still stretched lazily across your bed, its head tilted in quiet amusement.

With a sigh, you stood and made your way to the door, half relieved and half-annoyed.

The TV blared whatever movie had been chosen for the night, a tradition at Ramshackle where native members of Twisted Wonderland picked their favorite media to share with the prefects. It had become a cherished cultural exchange, a chance for everyone to gush about their favorite things—though you and the others never had anything to contribute.

Not that any of you wanted to. Any mention of home dampened the mood. The others missed it—their world, their families—while you had long stopped thinking of returning. You're never going home. It's too beautiful in your memories, untouched by everything you had become. Setting foot there would be like introducing flame to the wings of a butterfly.

You sat beside him, finding solace and comfort in each other's quiet presence. There was no need to speak, no need to acknowledge it aloud. He was your own guest for tonight's movie, something you never thought you'd have based on your previous reputation, or lack thereof. And yet, despite everything, you still couldn't forgive him for the way he once ignored you. You couldn't even recall how long ago that time was. It should have been easy to let go, to forget the loneliness, but the ache of it still lingered, a phantom pain of being unseen, unheard, unnoticed.

Everything felt so stagnant back then, so suffocating. In moments like these you couldn't help but be appreciative of the Blot's assistance, even as you both resented yourself and the entity in your bedroom for what it had cost you—even worse, knowing you had willingly accepted the deal. The truth, that claustrophobic reality, felt like a noose around your neck, dragging you deeper with every breath. Without the deal, you would have remained nothing—forgotten, buried in the snow, your name lost to time, your face unrecognizable by all. And when the thaw came, they could have found your body, decayed and nameless. A casualty.

A chill ran down your spine at the thought, the memory of that night creeping back, sharp and biting like frost against your skin. Jack, seated nearby, must have noticed. Without a word, the beastman draped his large, fluffy tail over your lap, a quiet attempt to offer warmth without interrupting the film.

The movie came to an end without you fully understanding the plot, the storyline lost to your distracted mind as you reflected on the whole evening. The lamps flickered back on as everyone began cleaning up, and there was an awkward, unspoken feeling hanging over everyone. The sort of quiet tension that lingered at the end of a gathering—was this goodbye? Was this the end, do they go home? The moment felt too brief.

But how many tomorrows are left?

Everyone knew that the Prefects of Ramshackle didn't belong here no matter how defined of a shape carved into everyone's hearts that only they could fill, they all knew that the Yuus would return home someday, often lamenting about their own world. Whenever the topic came up, you'd catch a fleeting glance from your friends. You'd never mentioned home—not since you'd given up on the idea. But you knew he was silently asking:

Do you plan to stay?

The boys scurried around cleaning up their messes, but their efforts were clumsy, adding new minor messes to clean—small, unnoticed attempts to stretch the moment just a little longer. They didn't want it to end yet. For now, neither did you.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a loud sneeze from Epel—one that would certainly earn him a lecture from Vil. You turn to see what he'd done, spotting a vase tipped over the kitchen counter, water and flowers spilling across the surface. They had been a gift, though the reasoning behind them had been flimsy at best. Not that you cared much. They weren't even your favorites, and flowers never lasted long anyway.

Wilting. Drying. Rotting.

Much like people.

You were slightly startled by the dark thoughts, pushing them away as Yuuken passed Epel a tissue before grabbing a rag to mop the mess before it seeped into the floorboards. Ramshackle already had enough mold; any more would be cruel.

"Did you catch a cold? I told you not to sit out in the rain too late trying to win that bet." Yuuken's tone was exasperated but laced with concern. Yuuka, less patient, flicked Epel's forehead in reprimand.

The mention of illness must have triggered Ortho's health and safety protocols, as he immediately zipped over, offering a full-body scan to check Epel's vitals.

"Uwah? Me next! Scan me!" Ace butted in with a cheeky grin—an obvious attempt to dodge dish duty. You shot him a knowing look but he only grinned wider, brushing it off and receiving his scan.

What started as a routine checkup quickly turned into a competition to see who was the healthiest, with everyone eagerly comparing stats. In the end, it came down to Jack and Sebek, though Jack narrowly took the win. Even Ortho seemed baffled by the results, staring at his screen in genuine confusion.

"I cannot understand how Sebek Zigvolt functions with such high exposure to Lilia Vanrouge's cooking..." he murmured, tilting his head.

Laughter rippled through the group as Sebek loudly protested, but the amusement died down as Ortho turned to you. Unlike the others, you hadn't joined in on their little contest, preferring to avoid the inevitable teasing about your ranking. But now, Ortho's bright yellow eyes scanned you from head to toe, and for a brief moment, his expression flickered with something strange—confusion?

"That's odd," he muttered. "You don't have any health complications, but... your body temperature is significantly lower than normal. By a lot. Please wait a moment while I check something."

Yuuta shot you a concerned glance, setting down a broken shard of the vase and rinsing his hand before reaching out to touch your forehead, only to immediately recoil.

"Woah. You're freezing..! Like wax."

Ortho scrolled through his holographic screens with increasing confusion, while the others hesitated before brushing against you, testing Yuuta's claim. You hadn't noticed before, but now that you thought about it—your skin was cold. Not just cool, but room temperature. Maybe a degree or two above it.

Ace snickered. "Maybe you really are a corpse, prefect. Don't worry; I'll cry over your grave for a good hour so you feel loved." He received a punch in the arm from Deuce for that, assuring you they'd visit every day and cry tons if you died.

The joke sent a sharp chill down your spine. For a split second, you were back there—lying in the snow, the cold sinking into your bones, the world growing quieter and quieter. The Blot ring on your finger felt soft and warm like an embrace in that moment as you pushed the memory down. You didn't even want to think about Ace and Deuce's reassurance about your death, not daring to recall how they wouldn't have even noticed a few months prior.

Ortho, unimpressed with Ace's comment, gave him a firm shove out of the way before running another scan. As he worked, Yuu barked orders at the others to finish cleaning up their messes, leaving you to sit on the couch under Ortho's scrutiny.

"It's strange..." he said, flicking through his screens and mumbling your full name a few times to search for you. "I have a database of nearly the entire student body in my records, but I had to create a new profile for you."

Something in your chest twisted.

That sick feeling, the one that always crept in whenever you felt especially neglected, clawed its way to the surface. This was a punch to the gut, a reminder that even a machine designed to remember, hadn't even noticed you enough to have you in his system.

How cruel.

You forced a laugh, pushing past the bitter taste in your mouth. "So, what do you think? Am I a corpse after all?"

Ortho paused, then, as if to make up for the oversight, carefully selected your favorite color for your new profile, even marking the tab as favorite with a cute icon.

"I apologize. I don't know," he admitted. "But I'll ask Big Brother. Maybe it's something I haven't thought about yet."

Ortho had left earlier than the others after being called back by Idia for something, but a sense of foreboding lingered in the air. You couldn't shake the feeling of being caught—caught in a way that was difficult to explain. Who else, other than the Shroud brothers, would have the highest chance of recognizing what you'd done?

Then again, the Blot taking a form and making a deal wasn't something that had ever been seen throughout Twisted Wonderland's history. Perhaps you were safe.

But the uncertainty gnawed at you, that creeping feeling that something—someone—might figure it out. The longer the silence stretched, the more unexplainable guilt festered.

Part three

was the second part weird?

I hope not hah

I have more plans to write more for this if it's still requested, and I'd like to apologize for taking two weeks to write this short thing. I got very sick, then very behind in schoolwork and then procrastinated for far too long.

My lovely little taglist: @tachibubu @shirp-collector-of-fixations @goatsmilksblog @iris-arcadia ( @tipsyon-tea - You mentioned wanting to read whatever happened next but never directly asked to tag. pls tell me if you'd like to be removed from this)

[gladiatorcunt]

- A ROTTEN TREE BEARS ROTTEN FRUIT | I.

god loves you, but not enough to save you

cw: kinktober prompt (whipping/flogging), blasphemy, inaccurate religious practices, lyrical sadomasochism (more so sadism on his part), erotic religious imagery and references, this dynamic is so weird, implied (as in in my mind) bi reader and charlie, plus sized reader, reader’s chest referred to as ‘breasts’ & ‘tits’ and their crotch referred to as a ‘hole’ but they do have a seperate one other than their ass, pregnancy fantasy, vomit mention, don’t know shit about the show fuck you ryan, blood kink, interchangeable ‘charlie’ & ‘mayhew’ based on pov

do not translate, repost, or feed this work to ai |

kinktober 2024

“Shh, let me clean you up, Father.” You smile, so softly, he could snap your neck if he squeezed hard enough.

You run your nails over his back, trimmed to an appropriate length. Father Mayhew sighs the way Adam might’ve when Eve’s walls clenched around him, God never being more important than this bliss. You’re so devoted, so devout in your worship but he’s beginning to think that you cry out to a different God than he does. If you even believe in an invisible one anymore when you have a savior in the flesh.

“Thank you, dear. That’d be great.” The pulls are pulled from his lips like rotund wooden beads, as if he has no choice but to endure the stretch as they exit his body one by one.

You shuffle off the bed and kneel behind him, stroking your fingertips down his back like he’s a marble statue you just can’t help but reach out and touch. The opposite of Delilah cutting Samson’s hair, you only want to imbue him with your pure love from the inside out. Spooning milk and honey over the tender welts.

His eyelids crinkle as you kiss the nape of his neck, blotting your lips with rouge. There is no inch of his back left without, and when you arrive at the bigger gashes you lavish the cut with your tongue. Drinking his life away and cleaning him up like a good little whore, servicing the man becomes the only thing of importance to you. You dip the tip of your tongue in the recess of the deeper wounds, and caress his tensing abs from behind when he grits his teeth and traps a curse behind them. You only kitten lick him, but often he wishes you would get real dirty with it, caressing your tongue over his muscles in broad and messy swipes.

His scars from previous lashings glint in the low light of the candles surrounding you. You give them their just desserts of course, grateful pecks of attention and acknowledgement. Soothing his pain, that is the only excuse you have to encroach on the verge of breaking your vows. Father Mayhew gives you a purpose and stops your bleating with a heavy hand if you forget your place. Stern hand to raw and stinging flesh.

Sometimes there is no pillow when you kneel behind him.

The next step is that you turn around and face the wall after picking up the cattail whip off the bed and returning it to its rightful owner. You’ve already discarded your habit, no tunic, coif, or veil left on your person. They’re folded neatly beside you, only your rosary nestled in the embrace of your heaving breasts. Your peaks harden in the stuffy humid air, all the oxygen in the world confined to this small room.

He saddles up behind you, his sweaty chest so close to the flesh and contours of your back. Father Charlie breathes you in, taking whiffs of your debauched scent in between silent prayers. He never allows himself to be as forward as you are, his thread of control over his desire has not snapped yet. There are boundaries he can push, but lines he can never cross.

“Good lamb, God recognizes your penance and forgives your soul.” He whispers, dragging the strips of leather down your back until goosebumps rise to the surface.

When you least expect it, he strikes. You muffle a shout into the wall and Father Charlie’s cock jumps under his towel. Briefly he imagines slamming into your tempting body dry, with no preparation, making you sure you feel as much pain as possible. The way you’d wince with every step around the church, the begging in your puppy dog eyes when you’d take communion. How he could hold it above your head like a bone in the shape of a fractured cross, dangling just out of reach of your gorgeous mouth.

The devil gives him dreams of fucking your throat until you’re vomiting and hoarse.

Every droplet of bed peeking out from the cracks of your skin to say hello nourishes him. He shushes you when you’re unable to hold back your sounds, cooing when he notices you humping the air after the fifteenth hit. You just can’t help yourself, nerdy by nature and nurture.

You start soaking the pillow beneath you, imagining what he must look like. A man and his broad hulking body curling around you as he hurts you. Your hole suddenly feels so empty, you have a night of riding your pillow ahead of you, you just want to be good for him in all the ways you’re supposed to be.

As you let a demon of sex control your body, he spies a flash of a white lacy thong nestled between your plump ass cheeks. He knows that if you had also worn a towel, he would’ve hooked his fingers under the fabric and pulled it off. You don’t get to hide any part of yourself from your Father. And he knows he will have to give himself another lashing for those thoughts alone. Even the secret wedding he plans as he strokes his angry red cock, always edging himself, he’s afraid of what would happen if he lets go. How loud the iron gates would be when they creak open. Like the way he wants to spread your ass open and toy with the hidden puckered hole.

His words are in his actions, reopening your old wounds and bringing the warm leather across your back one last time, he hopes your blood soaks through the material. Staining it, the way you have already stained his heart. Father Charlie grins despite himself when you slump against the wall, sliding his bible-roughened hands over your love handles and sticks his pecs to your shoulders.

“You did lovely, today. The Lord thanks you, and I’m so proud of you, you know that?” His thick fingers brush along the bottoms of your tits, never going higher.

He wants to slap them, wrap the beads of your rosary around them until the flesh bulges, painting your nipples in a mix of both of your blood. Marking your souls irreversibly. Marriage of the spirit, a ritualistic wedding in the eyes of the beholder. You shiver like a mouse in front of a snake, and beads of precum fall from his cockhead.

Did Saint Teresa have these feelings when she had the vision of an angel piercing her heart with their golden spear? Did Saint Sebastian when he was pierced by those arrows under the order of the Emperor? Did David when he wrenched Goliath’s head back by his hair and bested him into humiliation? Did it compare to the covenant he formed with Jonathan?

He kisses your glittering scars in thanks and washes your blood away with his lips and tongue too. But unlike any other day in which you’ve done this, he stands up with a grunt and pulls you up with him. Father Mayhew falls backwards onto his bed and so you follow dutifully, and because the hold he has on your wrist is strong to the point of bruising. You lay your head over his heart and pant into his skin as he teases your plush thigh, tracing crosses into the chubby expanse of skin.

“No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us.” He cajoles, walking on that burning tightrope with you.

He wonders if your cunt would be just as chubby, if you’ve ever thought about humping the organ bench, riper than the forbidden fruit, and he mentally catalogs an extra long session of repentance. To be fresh and clean again. Father Charlie will go through his sermons with his lighthearted tone and charming personality, desperate to hide that he’s thinking of plunging his tongue in your asshole. Sipping and slurping up your musk like it’s the only holy water he needs to live. Or entice you into eating his ass, you would love being able to serve him properly, no doubt.

To nourish you with his fragments, his vertebrae and viscera. The body and the blood. The teeth and the testicles.

He’ll sit in quiet contemplation in front of the pulpit, pouring wine over your body in his mind. Following the red trail with his tongue as it trickles down the valley of your chest and dips in and out the folds of your belly. He’ll leisurely open his mouth on a silent moan at the top of your mound, the hairs like yellowing blades of glades against his philtrum, in a perfect paradise there’d be blood there too. His own personal, pervertedly literal, red sea.

You’d look so beautiful, swollen and fat with a child growing in your womb. A shame that can never happen, but a blessing that no heretic of a man could snatch you up and take you away from him. Your flock is here, and the heavy crook of his staff is all you need to guide you back home when you go astray. Trapped in his thighs, molded by his hands, punctured into line with his cock.

[trulyumai]

to love an emperor

—: pairing - caracalla / wife! reader

—: synopsis - Caracalla the disastrous, caracalla the mighty. thousands would cower down and pray in fear of such a man, but you? you offered love and kisses upon the head.

—: warnings - none. pure fluff for the soul.

—: an - is it a little off character? oh yeah. but the man needs more soft love and I am here to provide.

not everyday was caracalla affectionate. he was moody sometimes— angry at you even when someone else had provoked him.

but tonight?

tonight he couldn’t stop adoring you; you had no idea what had gotten into him. caracalla was never this affectionate, at least without jealousy or a beverage involved.

“do you love me?” the man mumbled, it was muffled against your skin. his breath was warm and sticking to you without delay. “of course,” you hummed, slipping fingers into the crown of his head, gently guiding your fingers through the soft and messy locks.

instantly Caracalla folded, the candlelight bounced of his face and illuminated each shadow and crevice with purpose. he was handsome, you certainly couldn’t deny such a fact. his eyes were soft, a light pink and red hue danced around his eyelids as the rest of his skin lay pale and untouched.

his lips were a little chapped, proof of him picking and biting them after todays timeline

“—you?”

Perking up, your mind cleared. You hadn’t even realized you spaced out until the jumbles of his words came to.

“I’m sorry, my love, what was that?”

the man beside you shuddered at such an endearment. He felt so warm, so comfortable in your presence.

“I said, do you know I love you?” Letting out a quiet snicker, a nod was given. “of course, I see it in your eyes, husband.”

Caracalla frowned, confusion blotted his features. “My… eyes?”

Soft fingers glided against his cheek, to which he leaned into trustingly. A thumb traced the underside of his eye, gently tracing random shapes and letters unconsciously.

“Mmh, you look at me the way Dondus looks at his snacks, my love.”

He couldn’t help but let out a bubble of laughter. wrinkles began to form around his eyes from such a joyous action, however his vision never faltered from admiring your blushing face. “I’m serious! You— you do!”

“Angel, what an odd way of phrasing such a thing!” Joining him in the barrage of giggles, you slumped onto him, digging your chin into the crevice of his neck.

“You’re not much of a poet, even I could have thought of better,”

You gasped, with hands now holding you upright on his chest a mischievous glint was caught in Caracallas eyes. “You jest, husband, surely. I’m more of a poet than you could ever be!”

“Oh?” The emperor challenged. Already taking advantage of this new position, both arms wrapped around your waist, prohibiting you from moving even an inch away.

“Mhm! Don’t you remember the last full moon? The festivities— the worshipping I gave—,”

A big, warm hand stopped you from going further, covering the entirety of your mouth and a giggle burst against the skin.

“I am more than aware of such a night, quiet it down before someone hears you.”

Although the walls were thick, and no one would ever think of disturbing such high power; there was celebration below, citizens from far and near joined in tonight’s merriment and Caracalla didn’t need anyone hearing of such a frivolous act between the two of you.

Feeling particularly bold, a light nibble was given to the man. Startled by such a sharp pain, the hand was removed and you were (temporarily), free to do as you pleased. Not sparing even a moment, your lips brushed against Caracallas ear with mischievous purpose. “Don’t you want them to know im yours? Have me scream your name in pleasure—“

“Careful,” The ginger seethed, already shuffling uncomfortably under you. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, wife.”

“And who said I couldn’t finish, husband?” Suddenly, a grip was bestowed onto the back of your neck, pushing you forward until your soft lips collided with rougher ones.

Submitting into him, you allowed the pushing and shoving of his tongue, the way his hands pulled at your robes and squeezed each open crevice of skin they could find.

Caracalla quickly pulled back, a string of saliva followed suit and a dazed— hungry look was swimming in his vision.

“Angel?”

Your hands shakily moved across his form, undoing and untying his garments haphazardly.

A wet hum left you, you were so busy with the action you failed to notice his eyes upon you.

And how in love the man looked, felt while beside your side.

His eyes, half lidded and flooded with affection never faltered.

The way you looked in the moonlight, how the silk you were wearing was slowly dragging down your shoulders messily.

Your braids were undone, pulled in every which way from Caracallas hands—and your face?

Gods, there was a reason he called you angel.

No one looked as beautiful as you, and he doubted such a being ever would.

“I love you,” finally the words left him— shoved their way out like spilled wine upon cobblestone.

You smiled, big and wide.

“and I you, my love.”

[euphoria-looney]

Who Said Money Can't Buy Happiness?

"I want that new money. Crisp money, Straight-from-the-mint money. Fresh money. Young money. Push against the tide~" New Money from the Great Gatsby.

Yan?Batfam x Neglected!F!Reader

Pt. 1

Divider Creds: @selysie and @anitalenia

This plot was inspired by @niwaart, @mimiiiiiiiiisstuff, and esp @coldilikeit

You know I've never pegged myself as the type to be too careless and get hit by a truck, because I'm not, that truck rammed into me and I was on the sidewalk, so, if I wake up, I'm suing.

That's what I thought would happen if I woke up in my world. newsflash, and spoilers, I seemed to wake up in this cliche bat family story as the neglected girl. This is actually the story "I Stole the Loving Family of the Villainess."

We follow around a girl named Serena, a cute name, by the way. It fits her as the female lead. She has blond hair and blue eyes, and multiple love interests, from Connor Kent to Wally West, and so on. She is adopted by the royal family, the Waynes.

And do you see this cute portrait with her in the middle brothers to the left, sisters to the right, parents on each side of her, oh and how can I forget even the main bulter, and can you see that small blot of paint, if you squit a little more. Ah- there I am.

That blot of paint- that's me.

While I'm monologing this I'm PUSHING SERENA DOWN THE STAIRS.

You know you can't help but feel bad for me like I'm the legitimate daughter and I get nothing.

Yes, you hear this my bitches, bros, and non-binary hoes. I'm the Villainess. If you guys spent less time fondling over the basic y/n of a female lead you realize how miserable [name] is as a character.

Her mom is too busy caring for her other siblings that she finds it too bothersome to deal with the least talented or least intelligent that goes for Alfred too because, in this story, we're royalty meaning more than one maid and butler, so why waste your time when you can have someone else do it.

Doesn't help that [name] has ears so she hears every mocking word that is uttered by her servants.

And of course, the main family does not give a pinky toe if she dies so that's so cool.

So [name] being a cliche Villainess is exactly stupid and untalented but all she wanted was her family's love and affection which is why she kept sabotaging Serena, which led her to her death.

Getting her memories suck, I mean my ego that was skyrocketing got hit with a pebble which is not a lot but that's because my ego is huge, this girl put herself down so much that I swear if her self-esteem was a rock she'd be crushed by now.

I mean the size of her self-esteem was so low it would be the opposite of my ego.

I mean how can it not be high? I'm rich, pretty, intelligent, and I've had diplomas in more than one field, Mary Sue? More like Barbie. I'm perfect, in more ways than one, except for relationships I've lacked in that department but I've never had one before so does that count? No.

Did I mention I was rich?

So anyway got her memories, it's so... tragic, but don't worry snookums because even in this life there's one defining trait that I still have, I'm rich. Okay, so not rich out of my pocket, I am a princess umkay, but I wasn't a woman in multiple men's fields for nothing.

Anyway back to the case in point, before I "woke" up [name] was having an impulse, her hands were itching to shove this one good orphaned girl that stole her place in the family, what timing do I have to come back right when [name] decided to take action on the impulse.

Hey, at least a perk of being the main character is that you don't take any damage whether that be physically inside or out. But I don't think the family will let it slide they are yanderes.

Yandere is a term for a character who is initially normal but soon develops an obsessive-compulsive grip on the person they like.

"I-I don't know one second I was walking down the stairs and the next I f-fell... but the only person behind me was [n-name]" Serena whimpered, ah- yes the struggles of a female lead the stuttering.

"[name] I can't believe you shoved Serena! This is-" Meet Palmola, my mother.

"So what?"

"Huh?" Palmola's eyes widened.

No in fact the whole family's eyes were in shock.

Since [name] would always make some batshit crazy excuse like the ghost of Grandpa pushed her or something. But why lie, I did shove her, for a good reason too.

"She walks so slow and sloppy, does she have any etiquette? I hope she would, with the amount of time she likes to spend with you Palmola. Fast, efficient, but proper. You did drill that into my head since I was young, didn't you? You even got mad when I did it wrong, is it so wrong I treat her like how I was treated?"

"Young lady-!"

"We'll discipline her later, Serena are you alright? Here take my arm sweetheart." Bruce let Serena wrap her arm around his.

The siblings paired up with each other, and Palmola took one of her son's arms. Leaving me with no one. A normal occurrence, at first it did numbers in the social circles, and still does, so each time I was left embarrassed. How annoying.

"Announcing the Imperial Family, the Gotham Empire, The Waynes."

Everyone flocked to each of the family but mainly focused their attention on Serena, whether it be her face, jewelry, dress, or how sweet she was compared to me.

"Announcing the Imperial Family, the Metro Empire, The Kents." Meet two of the love interests that right she goes for the big brother and the little brother, originally I'm engaged to Connor, but tonight that would change, the engagement is getting annulled, and his reason to the court is "I have set my eyes on someone new, and with many competitors, I can't lose."

It wasn't hard for anyone to know who it was, I think the only one that didn't notice was Serena herself.

Actually, this was a huge arc in the story when all the love interests fight for her love, there was no victor as she did the poly relationship, which really confuses me doesn't she need to make many offspring for each of the families respectable titles, you can't just combine into one entire thing, can you? That be very messy, I guess you could just give away titles but then who gets-

Anyway, that had a lot of readers mad, usually the whychoose situation would be okay, but she mainly focused on Conner so there was actually no reason to choose this route.

Never mind, that's a conversation for another day that I'll just forget.

Connor approaches me grabbing both my hands, attracting attention.

"[name] there's something I have to confess..."

"You're breaking off the engagement"

"I'm breaking- wait what?"

"You've found someone new, that has many competitors and you can't lose a battle you haven't even tried winning, I get it. But I'd like a downpayment of 10,000 gold and you can give the 490,000 gold later to my personal account and we call it even. Deal?" Hustling, though it's a 50/50 shot with many deals with enough eyes on us I'm sure he'll give in.

"S-sure, right. Right- I'll get that to you immediately-" I gave his hand a firm shake before heading off to the...

If you guessed balcony you're wrong, I'm heading over to the food table.

"Did just see what happened?"

"Is she planning something?"

"500,000 gold?!"

"Sister, what are you planning?" Barbara came over.

Also, who calls their sibling sister, like sure, that works.

"What do you mean?"

"That marriage was meant to connect our kingdoms, you'd let that go so easily, and we both know your gaze on Connor, what are you planning." She spoke through her fan, in a hushed voice.

If I made a scene as to not let him go I'd be embarrassing you guys, but if I show that I'm okay with him leaving me I'm ruining a political standing that wouldn't even work out, I'd still do something wrong.

"Have some decorum sister, we haven't had a proper conversation in years, and this is the first thing you say to me? Typical Barbara you think you know everything since you're older and more "mature""

You could tell Barbara didn't take that lightly as she gripped the fan handle tightly, I literally didn't even do anything.

"I'll spare you from any more veins popping up on that face, don't be an ass, we both knew Connor is in love with Serena and that me begging him not to break the engagement would only bring shame onto our family, so I did us both a favor and ended it." I tossed my hair back before grabbing some croissants that were covered in chocolate, powdered sugar, and some strawberries.

Life really is great.

"What about the scandal that would break out."

"Again, it would break out either way, now do me a favor and go back to your group they're staring at me and it's ruining the snack that I have on my plate."

She let out a deep breath before heading off.

Speaking of which I'd rather have a place to place my food and eat it, pretty sure there's a table in the garden under the gazebo if I remember correctly and I don't but whatever.

Just to find a moping Jon.

"Should you be out here?"

"It's unfair once again he gets to have everything"

Oh? Do tell.

I raised an eyebrow at him cutting my croissant in half before placing a half in front of him.

He finally looks up his face turned shocked like I was a ghost or something.

"[name]?!"

I bit into my croissant, nodding.

"Why'd you have to go and break off the engagement, now I have Connor as competition."

I knew this happened in the novel but I just remembered how young he was he's around Damian's age and I'm about the same age as Serena so this was a cry for help.

"Why do you even like Serena?"

"I don't really, it's just... I wanted something that he couldn't obtain he was going to be the first in line, and he's just better than me in lots of things because he has training so I thought, at least I had Serena."

Sometimes I forget that back then age gaps had no restrictions.

"That just means fewer responsibilities anyway, aren't you a little too young to be worrying about any of that? Now, I brought over this croissant but since I'm nice I gave you half." I ruffled his hair and he tried to swipe it away.

"I guess you're right." He started gobbling the desert down.

Honestly, I don't even know why this was a love interest he's literally a minor, maybe that's why the author got backlash against that and the novel was an overall dumpster fire with a basic self-insert MC.

I don't know what's worse the fact that they kept dragging on the storyline or the fact that I'm now in the storyline.

I mean seriously he only liked her because of the plot, he got over this situation so quickly that you wouldn't even know why he was moping earlier.

-

Now back to the circumstance at hand I was at home and seems the family never forgot about me shoving Serena down the stairs, they almost forgot about me breaking off the engagement.

"... what if she got a scratch on her face? Or if the clothes ripped?! Are you listening to me?!" I zoned out for a good second.

See we had gone back to the castle and they kept rambling on and on about what could've happened to Serena had the fall been more steep or rough, but like does she even have even status to attend these events in the first place?

"Since you seem to not care about this we're cutting you off of money for the next month!" She hollered in my ear once more.

"What were you thinking at the ball?" Tim cut into Palmola's ramblings.

"Normalize giving contexts, Tim." He scoffed.

"I was sparring with Kon the other day and he made some bogus statement saying he was breaking off the engagement, I didn't think he would do it, but allowing him to? Have you any idea what this caused?"

"Who am I to stop Crown Prince Connor, Tim? He has a woman to chase, and wasn't going to give it up for this contracted engagement." I glanced at Serena who flinched and hid behind Jason.

"I still doubt that you'd let him go that easily, you've been obsessed with him since you laid eyes on him."

"And you know that because you're my caring younger brother or because you like to throw it in my face on the downfalls of my life?"

"[name]!" Palmola scolded me.

Bruce could only sigh at the scene.

"Palmola!" I retorted, bringing a tense atmosphere to occur.

Alfred arrived at the scene handing me a letter.

"To you, Princess [name]." I opened it to see the rest of the money that Connor promised me had been added to my account even with the 10,000.

I'm rich, but this is just the start.

"If that's all I'll be heading back to my room." I tossed my hair back before ordering the maids to prepare my bath.

"You're taking too long," I told the maids who were congregating among themselves instead of doing their jobs.

"Well, usually, Princ- I mean Lady Serena wouldn't mind-"

"Do I look like her?" I gripped the maid's chin.

"Don't worry, since it bothers you so much to draw me a bath you can pack your things up and leave tomorrow, you're fired." I pushed back my hair in agitation.

"What-"

"Did you not hear me, you're fired, don't make too much noise, go on." I shooed her away.

She just dropped to her knees and started begging me, but I made the other maids drag her out now all of a sudden they wanted to switch up and act proper.

"Now, with that out of the way, someone draw my bath." I rolled my eyes.

I do not condone maid abuse, but what's the point of working here if you don't do your job? So firing is the only option.

3RD POV

"That girl- I swear I don't know where she got that attitude from, did you see the way she talked to me?!" Palmola scoffed.

Duke could only think about how [name] seemed different actually the whole family could be thinking about that.

Damian kept stroking Titus' fur while thinking about how [name] didn't just keep her head down and take his insults. Wait- now that he phrases it like that, it sounds really bad.

Tim just thought about his friend Connor, he had been the one that Connor ranted to about how annoying his sister was but he didn't think [name] would take the cancelation of the engagement that easily, he thought [name] would least throw a tantrum at best. And since earlier he noticed how [name] looked at them at the stairway after. [name] looked at them like they were lower than her.

Dick was processing the whole thing, did [name] always talk like she didn't care for their approval? I mean [name] spoke like this could've been a letter delivered to her door instead of an important conversation. This conversation was important, [name] hurt Serena and canceled a political connection of a lifetime, he could feel a headache approaching.

Jason could only blink at the audacity, sometimes when this happened [name] at least looked like she gave a darn but not only was she okay with that Connor boy leaving her, but also being cut off [name] would at least beg for some forgiveness. But nothing...?

Stephanie would've had a jaw-dropping expression right now, but had her fan covering her mouth, holy lord did that really just happen? I mean [name] did not even try to bother her at the ball but she also gave up the man she bothered until her final breath and 500,000 gold?! That's an insane amount one and two when did [name] learn to negotiate?

Cassandra felt confused about what had just gone down, did she hear that right? That whole thing, just what occurred? [name] changed in two seconds, like she blinked, Serena tumbled down the stairs and then she just acted strange.

(What you're sticking up for yourself? That's criminally insane right there.)

Barbara had already dealt with how [name] did a 180 at the ball but she just thought that was because she thought she had a wedgy at the moment, though in general [name] had never done this so what happened this time?

Bruce well who knows what he's thinking he just looks constipated like isn't supposed to be saving Gotham in another life?/j

Bruce sat there, he didn't raise [name] like that, wait-. He didn't raise [name] at all... Is this his fault that [name] was acting out right now? No, he's been busy and with all the duty of the empire on his hands he couldn't pause it for [name], like yes, he does that for Serena sometimes- all the time but that's different she had a hard childhood growing up.

Serena, well, she gritted her teeth and clenched her fist. For the first time, something didn't go her way. And what was that attitude, who did [name] think she was? She shouldn't even act like that, at this point, everyone knows she's supposed to be in her position. I mean look at her.

So it's time to be the center of attention. Wouldn't you think?

Serena let out a few sniffles catching the attention.

"It's all my fault that she's in a bad mood, I'm sorry."

The family quickly came to comfort her. Never mind what they were thinking before, how could [name] be such a child in this situation?

After taking a nice bath and sneezing I was now changed into my nightgown. These things are nice.

I took [name]'s diary, so was not thinking, writing down her devious plans here, one of the reasons she was caught and executed, and she couldn't rebut it as they had proof.

So I'll do us both a favor and burn it.

Tossed into the flame I could only stare at the burning journal.

Another burning pile.

I should sleep I have a lot of plans tomorrow, and only a few months till school starts.

With a flick of my wrist, the candles blew out and the doors shut.

One perk about this world is the powers.

(H2O just add water)

So instead of actually writing the next part for any other series of mine I decided to make a new writing idea 🌝, I'm also making others in my brain as we speak but we're going to keep them there until I finish at least one of my series.

Anyway did you like it?

I'm going back to work now (writing), *le sigh*.

Happy early Lunar New Year though, I'm manifesting a lot of red envelopes to myself and many others!

If there's anything too cringy, plot holey, or grammatically wrong, do inform me!

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

35 / 2.1k / shark merman Price and remora mermaid reader for mermay :)

...

Price isn’t stupid. He knows you’ve been following him since the early morning as he makes the rounds through his favorite reef. You’re stealthing poorly—just poorly enough that he knows you’re there, but you’re still small enough to dart into the reef every time he tries to get a good look at you.

He's been ignoring you and hoping you’ll take the hint to buzz off before he makes you buzz off.

You think you’re getting the hang of sneaking up on him when you turn a corner and lose him. And then he’s sneaking up on you.

You peek around the bright lumps of coral, wondering where he’s gone, when something blots out the sunlight above. You look up to see him—the long expanse of muscle and bulk on top and the smooth shark’s tail below—as he peers down at you.

You stiffen, pressing yourself to the sandy sea floor.

He scans you with his dark eyes to determine just what kind of creature has been following him. Not a threat, decides. Even as a mer. You’re too small. Too soft. You have no teeth to speak of. How laughable. And a tiny little thing, at that.

You straighten up, watching him circle you. You’d been looking for an opportunity just like this. That’s why you were tailing him. But now that his shrewd gaze is finally on you, you feel exposed.

He takes his time inspecting you. Then he swims a wide arc around you once more and lowers his clawed as if to touch you. You force yourself to stay still, your tail curled under you on the sand.

“You’ve been following me,” he says. It’s not a question.

“Yes.”

Price hooks one of his claws under your chin and pulls your head lightly upwards. You slowly rise as he tilts your chin up until you're suspended in the water in front of him.

"You should be scared of me,” he says.

You settle your own hands on his wrist in contentment. You look less like a meal being evaluated and more like a kitten being scratched under the chin. "Would you like me to be scared?"

He chuckles at your enthusiasm. He knows exactly what this is. You're a remora mer, which means you instinctively seek out and bond with bigger creatures. Even if that creature is an unfriendly shark mer. Surely you must know how dangerous it is to be within his reach?

"You're very big. You must be king of this reef,” you say.

He pauses as the praise washes over him. He knows how intimidating he is, and you should realize you're nothing but small, soft and fragile. But obviously your instincts for fawning and flattery are finely honed.

He can see the way your little self seems to be drawn to him. A remora mer, indeed. He's seen others like you, but they've always avoided him. He could just as easily kill you as he could accept your company.

There is something pitifully adorable about you. The way you tilt your head and expose your throat unwittingly is endearing. He knows it’s because your instincts are leading you to bond with him for the safety he provides. You're too willing.

"Do you lack the common sense to fear an apex predator?" he asks, voice low and amused.

"Yes," you respond obediently.

He can see the way your little body is pressing up to his hand, desperate to get closer. He moves his arm, gently guiding you closer to him. "Good," he rumbles softly before using two claws to stroke down the curve of your neck. "Very good. You're too small to survive my teeth, you know."

"Of course. Much too small. Your teeth are so big and sharp."

"And you're soft and weak. Soft as a piece of kelp, I bet." He gives the tip of your tail a flick, and his eyes glitter as you bob and shake out your tail fin at the touch. Fussy little creature. "You're not very good at what you're supposed to do, little mer."

You open up your eyes. "I'm not?"

"Following me for hours without even trying to ingratiate yourself to me," he growls. "You're supposed to busy yourself with my needs. Not..." He trails off as you tilt up into his touch, almost nuzzling his hand. He gives your forehead a light flick with his claw to make you pay attention. "Acting like some kind of pet."

You quickly smooth yourself down. "Of course. I know that." You dart closer, putting your small hands on his inner arm, his shoulder, his chest, inspecting him. Your fingers glide over him, brushing and scratching and plucking away bits of sea debris and dry skin. Grooming him. "I just thought you might want me to be scared of you first."

Oh. He’s enjoying this far more than he thought he would. For something so soft, you’re quite bold.

He presses on your hip to turn you slightly as you work, idly inspecting you in return. "Maybe later. Let’s see if you’re worth the effort first." He rests his chin on his other hand to watch you fuss over him. It's been a long time since he had any kind of attention on him. You dart around behind him and busy yourself with his hair next.

He leans into your touch when you start to untangle his hair. "You seem to enjoy this.”

“I do.”

“Good for you,” he drawls. "Are you good for anything else?"

"I'm good for lots of things." You move from his hair down to his tail, trying not to stare.

"Oh?" He reaches up and idly drags the back of his knuckles down your spine and over the fin there. He smirks as your fin flattens with the touch. "Like what?"

"Anything you can think of."

"Anything?" He gives a low rumble in his throat at your words. "Don't go promising favors you can't fulfill, little remora."

"Okay," you chime.

He grabs ahold of your tail fins. "And don't agree with every single thing I say, either. That makes you far too easy to manipulate."

"Yes, sir!"

He rolls his eyes. You really are a pushover. It's like you want him to be cruel to you. He lets go of your tail but twirls his fingers in the tip of your tailfins. "Is it your instincts that are making you so deferential? Or are you just a coward?"

You pretend to think about this for a moment. Then you respond, pleasantly, "Which do you prefer?"

"Mm, so you do have a brain."

"Me? No, surely that can't be. Not a thought in my head, sir. Promise."

He eyes you like a disobedient puppy. You're putting on this fairly convincing act, being a mindless, servile little thing, and it's confusing his instincts to know you're doing a fair bit of manipulation yourself to win his protection.

"Might prefer you a bit more brainless, actually," he says. He nudges the underside of your chin with his knuckle this time instead of his claw, noting how you drop what you were doing to follow the gesture as he guides you out in front of him again. "You're willing to do anything I ask, then? No questions?"

"Yes, sir.” You rest your much smaller body against his forearm again. “Anything.”

He looks down at how you submit willingly to his hand, taking in the sight of your small body pressed up against it. He feels something primal coil in his gut at the display. You let yourself fall under his control so easily. "What if I told you to open your mouth like a goldfish?" He brings his thumb up to your lip. "Would you?"

You open your mouth.

Interesting. He taps your lower lip with the tip of his thumb. "Wide," he murmurs. "Open up wide for me."

You open wider.

"Now bite."

You bite down around the tip of his thumb.

His lips twitch up into a smile at the feeling of you nibbling at him, the little scrape of your teeth. "Good. Harder."

You reposition your grip and chomp down in earnest this time. He grunts. Your teeth are smaller than his, but they're still sharp.

"There you go. Not bad for such a small mouth." He pulls it away, half-expecting you to start hollowing your cheeks on his thumb if he dawdles too long. "Have you ever had to deal with bigger fish?"

"Of course," you chirp. Like it's no big deal.

Price snorts. It's hard to imagine something like you doing anything but darting behind the nearest rock at the first sign of danger. “How many have you killed?"

"None."

"Right, I'm sure you ask them nicely to leave you alone," he says. "And do they listen?”

"Sometimes they do. Sometimes they don't."

"And when they don't, what do you do? Do you fight back? Do you give up?"

"Well..." You wring your hands briefly. "You're going to handle it now, right? So what does it matter?"

"It matters to me." For some reason, the thought of you trying to fight back against a larger fish makes him restless. "You still need to know how to defend yourself."

You frown. "You're not going to do it for me?"

He scoffs, but you're starting to make him feel something close to concern for you. He doesn't know why the thought of you being defenseless irks him so. "Are you really that helpless? Are you really so soft that you just want me to fight all your battles for you?"

"I mean, you're a shark."

He huffs irritably at that, his annoyance with you outweighed by his annoyance with himself for feeling concerned over you. "Do you think I'm going to do everything for you just because I'm bigger and stronger?"

You smile at him, pleased.

Ah. He's the fool suddenly. He grabs you around the waist with just one of his big hands and brings you close, his voice lowering in warning. "Stop smiling, little fish."

"Okay," you chime.

"I told you to stop sounding so bloody agreeable. You make me want to bite you." He lifts you up in front of him to get a clearer look at your face. Your eyes are too wide, your smile is too sweet, your body is too flimsy. It's all infuriating to him. He’s been roaming the ocean a long time and he's grown comfortably hard and cold. You’re not changing that. "You have no self-preservation instincts at all, do you? You're just going to get yourself killed one day."

You settle into his hand comfortably. "Maybe so. Can I get you anything else, boss?"

You're hopeless, he decides. With how sweet and docile you are, he feels something clawing at the inside of his chest the longer he holds you.

Instead of answering you, he fits you against his chest, into the crook of his arm. There. Better. He can keep you closer this way without having to look at your silly doe eyes.

“Not now,” he says finally. “Maybe later.”

You lean into the position, tucking into the side of his chest like you're making yourself at home. "Okay, boss."

He can’t decide if he likes you calling him that or not. He can feel the way you nestle against him, settling in comfortably and making no effort to resist. You really are too easy to control. Just a little pull and you're molded against his side. He feels you start to smooth down some of his chest scales without even thinking. Grooming him. Nice and clean. Little busybody.

He's not used to being pampered, but feeling the tension start to bleed from his muscles under your touch… maybe it’s not so bad. He glances down at you, wondering how you're able to look so contented tucked up against him. His chest rumbles as you scratch near his throat. He lets his muscles relax under your hand.

You're an annoying little thing--too innocent, too naive, too sweet, and he conveniently forgets how capable you are of convincing him of that to win him over--but it's been too damn long since he's allowed himself to be comforted.

Maybe it would be alright to let you stay with him for a little while.

...

more Price / more mer au / masterlist tag

[luveline]

I’m obsessed with the sister!hotch and Reid fics. I can’t stop imagining that scene where Rossi goes to Garcia’s house and she’s fresh from the shower with Kevin. But instead is Hotch at readers house and Spencer is there.

—you and Spencer are in the midst of a long weekend together when your brother shows up unannounced. fem, 1.3k

“You’re really handsome.” 

Spencer laughs as you drag your hands back over his ears and through his sopping wet hair. The shower water is blissfully warm and soaking your front as it rains down on his head. You shield his eyes but otherwise have your fun. His hair is softer than anything you’ve ever felt. 

He holds your hands flat to his head. “You’re handsomer.” 

“Am I supposed to take that in a good way or a bad way?” you ask. 

“A good way!” he says, forgetting your hands in favour of guiding you under the water. “Handsome has nearly always been used for men more than women, but it didn’t fall out of fashion for girls until the fifties.” He tilts your head upward and to one side as his own begins to fall the other way. “You’re beautiful.” His voice is warm on your lips, “you’re so–”

His kiss is ridiculous; he kisses like he’s starving. You didn’t realise men could actually kiss like this until you met him. It’s not just in the movies, it’s right now, his hand at the back of your neck, unbothered by your laughing or your hand slipping down his wet t-shirt. 

“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” you say. 

“We were covered in mud.” 

“We should’ve just got naked.” 

“We’re taking things slow,” he says, laughing, “it’s fun. But what are we gonna do about our wet clothes?”

“You got the most of the mud on you,” you say. Spencer had performed a valiant rescue in that when you fell, he was straight down into the grass after you in an attempt to save your jeans. It didn’t work, obviously, but the thought was there, and he’s such a good kisser in the shower that you don’t mind the loss. “I’m gonna get out and get changed, you can have a real shower, okay? I’ll get you a towel and your pyjamas and stuff.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, it’s fine. I think all the mud from my top half is gone.” 

Spencer takes your face into his hand. His thumb rubs a line along your jaw. “Now it’s gone.” 

You beam. Who knew Dr. Spencer Reid was such a tender guy? You could sort of guess from looking at him that he’d touch you like that, but it’s a contrast, too, to be kissed as though you’re some irresistible siren and to have your face held like fragile glass. 

You step out of the shower still sodden, clothes heavy, and close the frosted door between you and Spencer to strip down. Separated but still shy, you hurry out of your clothes and into a towel, wrapping yourself tightly to head into your bedroom. 

You put on blissfully dry underwear and blot your face. Next is loose pyjama pants and a big t-shirt: you’ve never worried about being sexy for Spencer and you’re not about to start. Your first date was a walk in the park, your second date at the bowling alley. He’s not concerned with that stuff. It’s why his frankness about wanting to take things slow isn’t scary, because when he holds your face and tells you you’re pretty, you believe it. 

“Y/N?” 

You flinch so hard your neck cracks. “Ow,” you whine. 

“What’s wrong?” 

You walk forward before Aaron can let himself into your bedroom. Sure enough, your older brother is in your apartment (as he’s allowed, given that he furnished the entire place and paid the security deposit, and, also, awfully, is a very nice big brother). He’s smiling, carrying two pizza boxes and a carton atop it that smells like French fries. “What have you done now?” he asks fondly. 

“I hurt my neck, you scared me.” 

“If you answered your phone, you’d know I was here.” 

“I was in the shower!” 

“I can see that. You’re getting slovenly, it’s almost midday.” 

You’re so genuinely happy to see him that you forget for a moment your predicament. “It’s the weekend, I can do what I want.” You’re gonna have to let him down, which won’t be easy. “I’m not feeling the best, actually.” 

Aaron lets the pizza boxes rest against his stomach. “How come?” 

“I don’t know, I just feel tired. Maybe we can do something tomorrow.” 

“Honey,” Aaron says, with all the cadence of someone who’s used to rubbing your back when you’re sick, “what’s wrong? Let’s go sit down, I can make you something less greasy.” 

“I think you should just go home, actually. I might be contagious.” 

He looks less concerned and more gutted. “What? I don’t care if you’re contagious. When has that stuff ever bothered me?” Aaron takes another step toward you, his gaze flitting past you toward your bathroom. “What’s really going on?” 

The age gap between you and Aaron is expansive. Your being adopted is another gap, and neither have ever bothered him. The moment you showed up in his life he gave you everything he could manage, which has manifested in long phone calls, in hugs, in homemade soup and delivery when he couldn’t be there. Asking him not to look after you is like telling him you don’t want him to, and it isn’t true. 

He means a lot more to you than whatever awkwardness your confession will inspire. 

“Aaron,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. “Spencer’s in the shower.” 

He squeezes his pizza boxes. “Sorry?” 

“We went to the park and I fell by the lake. He’s in the shower.” 

“But you were just in the shower,” Aaron says. 

“Well, we weren’t in there at the same time,” you drag. 

Your lie is obvious to him, not just as a profiler but as your brother. His brow pinches and his nose wrinkles, not disgusted with you or anything so cruelly stupid, but dissatisfied, at least. “Did you have to tell me that?” he asks, pained.

“I didn’t tell you that, you profiled that, and it’s sort of not what you think anyways! We didn’t do anything–”

“Honey.” 

“I’m really sorry, but it’s not what you think.” 

“Listen to me.” The shower turns off and Aaron’s cheek twitches. “You are a grown up. You can do what you like with who you like. It’s my fault for coming here unannounced, I keep thinking of you as younger than you are.” Says the adult. Then, the more friendly part of being a sibling emerges, “Could you send him home?” he whispers. “I got your favourite.” 

You laugh at his proposition. “That’s kinda rude, isn’t it? Can’t he stay? He’s cool.” 

“I’m having trouble coalescing the two of you as more than acquaintances in my mind,” he says, as though he has much more to say about it, even if he’s smiling. 

Spencer chooses that moment to walk from the en-suite bathroom and out of your room, a t-shirt stuck to his chest with damp, his own pyjama pants baggy at the ankles.

“Hey, are you okay?” Spencer grabs your hand impulsively, twining his fingers in yours. Then he sees Aaron and does a double take. “Hotch?”

You give Aaron a sorry smile. “Does that make it easier?” 

“I’ll wait in the kitchen.” 

You and Spencer watch Aaron retreat. His hand stays in yours, but he squeezes you too tightly. “Wait for what?” Spencer whispers fervently. 

You lean up on tiptoes to kiss his eyebrow. “You’re about to get the shovel talk, I think.” 

“Oh. Great.” He drops his forehead against your shoulder, wet hair dripping a path down your shirt. “This is really bad.” 

“He brought pizza.” 

“I don’t think that’s going to help me.” 

You crane your head and kiss-kiss-kiss the top of his ear. “You’re really pretty when your hair is wet.” 

Spencer murmurs to you reluctantly. “You’re really pretty all the time.”