#but like. i do want to create and i get frustrated by the feast or famine dynamic i have

[waterbearable]

both in an attempt to be more deliberate about the work I'm doing w Personal Project and to stop myself from the pattern I have which is Do No Creative Work/Spend Hours At A Time On One Aspect of Creative Work, I have set a very loose timeline/goals for progress on Personal Project, part of which is to do my best to commit myself to spending at least an hour each on writing, drawing, and reading weekly (with the idea that I could literally just do 15 minute bursts multiple times a week and still meet the goal, since I normally have trouble scheduling things out bc I feel like there's not enough time in my day For A Task)

[jelliedink]

Making love with your DILF!Boss

Warnings: huge age gap, manipulative behaviour, slut shaming, sex.

Author's note: I brought him back, loves. This was originally part of the first headcanon post, but I decided to divide it because it was getting way too big. Please, get yourself comfortable and feast on the depraved fantasies my brain creates about this fictional toxic man.

Divider by @cafekitsune

First let me say that: this devil of a man is patient and he'll wait until you're crawling up the walls from desperation and desire. And then he'll wait a bit more.

DILF!Boss also considers himself an old-school man. He's not entirely opposed to fucking like a dog in heat but, in his head, this treatment is for other people. You are not a "cheap whore" or a random one night stand. He's preparing you to be his pretty perfect wife and new mommy of his children. You deserved to be treated with respect.

And he would tell you exactly so if you asked him to fuck your brains out. He would feel disgusted just by thinking about what kind humiliating of things your previous partners asked from you, his precious doll. But now you were with a man that knew how to treat you. A man that knew how to make you things you couldn't even imagine. A man that's been doing it since before you were born. A real man.

During sex, your DILF!Boss took care of you the whole time. He would take how long it needed to get you soaked and ready for him. Even then, lube was always easily accessible, just to be sure. He checked in with you in every step of the way and in between, making sure he was touching his precious little doll in all the right ways.

"Let me prepare you just a little more." "Do you like when I touch you like this?"

The nickname he used the most in those moments was "my little angel" because you did indeed feel heavenly. Your skin was so warm and soft, your moans, whispers and pleas so beautiful. And you have no idea how big his ego got when seeing you melt under his touch so easily.

Your DILF!Boss held you so close that at moments it felt like you were drowning in him. No matter the position, he'd always find a way to cage you in his arms, his body touching yours in all the places it could. You both were so entangled you could feel the movement of his lungs filling with air, his throat vibrating when he groaned or whispered sweet nothings in your ears, making you tickle. His scent was all you could feel, your sweat and his were the same, your bodies moving in such synchrony that you were not sure where you ended and he began anymore.

His thrusts were slow and deep, most of the times not pulling even half of his cock out before getting it all in and reaching places you didn't think was possible again. The way he rocked his hips into yours made it almost unbearable to keep your eyes open, and he had to ask you many times not to hide your face. He needed to see and praise you when he saw you loosing focus and part your lips to let out another delicious moan.

"Just like that, my buttercup, just let everything go while I take care of you."

Your DILF!Boss's thrusts were agonisingly slow. You felt the pleasure building and, the closer you got to your orgasm, more desperate you got to increase the speed and reach your peak. But he wouldn't let you: he locked your hips in place and kept his rhythm, the delay of your pleasure so overwhelming that it was almost painful. It made you want to sink your nails into his skin. You begged him until your voice was nothing but a whine, but to no avail, and often mixed tears from frustration and pleasure rolled down your cheeks.

All this time he would have one hand at the back of your head, his finger running through your hair in an effort to comfort you, his words gentle despite his laboured breath. "I know, my precious, I know. It will get better soon." "Calm down, my little minx, we've just started." "Breathe, my dear. In through your nose, out through your mouth. See how you can feel every inch of me in you when we go like this?"

It wasn't often that you came multiple times in one night: the first orgasm was so strong for being build for so long that it got you completely fucked up and you just wanted him to hold you in his arms and kiss you better after this pleasurable torture session.

He would often take longer, though. Your pleasure always came first, and after you calmed down a little he would ask if you could take just a little bit more of him. You almost always said yes. It didn't take him very long to finish seeing you so spent from his blissful touch, and he praised you the whole time for being so good to him.

After you're both done, your DILF!Boss would cup your face and kiss all of it, saying how much he loved you, how you were the best thing that happened to him, how he couldn't believe he was gifted with such a perfect angel like you. Then he would carry you to the bathroom; if not for taking a bath, at least to make sure you peed while he threw out the condom and got both of you water.

He couldn't hide his smile while watching how you curled up in his chest when you got back to bed, so tired you could hardly maintain a conversation. He'd still always try to ask how you were feeling, if he had hurt you or done anything that didn't feel good, although most of the time you passed out before he got the chance to finish this questionnaire. It didn't take him long to sleep after that. Feeling your now slow breath in his skin, he drifted off thinking how lucky he was that such a pretty little thing fell so deep into his trap.

[is-nini]

Alhaitham x Bunny! Reader

Warning: dumbafication, degrade, filthy words, Alhaitham being mean, edging, breeding, manhandling, size kink. Trust me, pure filth. summary: you walk around Haitham’s house without panties on so Alhaitham decides to treat you like the slut you are ;)

Word count: 1794

Alhaitham and you are a combo people will never think about. He is an acting grand sage at some point and you are… well you. Just a cute little bunny enjoying her life. Even though it is unexpected, Alhaitham never really cares. He loves you and your carefree act. Sometimes the antics you do are dumb such as now, wearing no panties, letting your pussy out there while wearing your mini skirt but it's okay, Alhaitham is not afraid to put you in your place.

"Mhn-!" You squirm as Alhaitham holds you in your place. You sprawled out on your dear boyfriend's lap, ass up for his eyes to feast "Stop moving bunny" his big palm holds your hips still as you look up at him with a teary eye "Ha-haitham sorry, am sorry" you moan out as you feel your pussy slowly getting wet, feeling his stare on your pussy "you acted like a bad bunny, you will be treated as such".

his hand slowly strokes your ass, leaving a ghost trail along your ass as it slowly inches toward your pussy. He spreads your pussy lips for a while, toying with it. he pinch one of your pussy lips, pulling it making you let out a whine as your ass wiggled, trying to create some friction but a sudden pain stopped you. “I said no moving princess” Haitham growled out after spanking your ass. He repositioned you, pushing you face down to the bed. “So-sorry Haitham! Sorry!”. Alhaitham ignores your pleas and pulls up your ass as now your pussy is fully present in front of his face. “you keep saying sorry yet you still did the same mistake. Maybe I should punish you harder?” he ended his words with another hard slap to your ass, making you jerk upwards while emitting a squeal as you wiggle your ass on the air, trying to calm your red ass down “n-no Haitham! Please please” at this point your pussy is already wet, the pain and the stare is not helping your sopping pussy to stop.

“Please what princess? more?” Alhaitham smirked, looking at your face wet with tears as another slap hits your ass, making you cry out more. Alhaitham’s deep laugh of amusement makes you pout as his hand slowly went to the slit of your pussy. He looks at your throbbing pussy in amusement as he dips in and out his thumb on the wet slick of your cunt. “such a wet cunt and all for me? how cute” he lets his head goes closer to your pussy, blowing little wind making you shiver in anticipation. his breath slowly grazes your dripping cunt as he nudges a little of your pussy with his tongue. You immediately move your hips, trying to gain his tongue inside your pussy but as he would have it, he pulled away as soon as your pussy touches his skin making you cry out in frustration “Haitham! Haitham please pleasee please play with my pu-pussy” you moan out, whining and begging him to do anything just anything so that your pussy won’t feel empty. Haitham looks at you with a smirk on his face, he goes back down and slowly inserts his middle finger in, making a circular motion inside, scratching the walls of your cunt “Tell me, princess, do you want me to use my finger? or my tongue?” Alhaithama asked all the while his finger is still moving inside you “ha-ahn! c-cock please! Please” you beg, instead of him answering you, a hard slap fell onto your pussy, making you jolt and cry out a respond “ha-a!” a tsk fell out from Alhaitham’s lips as he scoffs at you “I didn’t offer you my cock you dumb bunny. it’s just my finger yet you’re already this dumb?” Alhaitham slaps your pussy one more time, making you jolt out as fat tears streams out. Alhaitham goes back down but this time his tongue latches on your pussy “ha-ngh! oh! yes! Please!” his tongue messily swipes across your sensitive bud, his mouth then latches and sucks on your bundle of nerves, making your leg shake and scream “oh! yes! ha-Haitham! so-so ghood ah ngh!” you legs are shaking as he keeps on attacking and sucking on your pussy, while his mouth is busy playing with your clit, his finger slowly make it’s way to your hole. he plunges two of his finger inside, fucking it in and out of you while his tongue busy abusing your nerves “Ha-Haitham oh! please Haitham! ngh! ah! Th-There! oh!” as you squeal and moan, you felt your stomach tighten and your pussy throbbing around Haitham’s finger, just as you were about to release, Haitham pulled everything away making you cry out in frustration “H-Haitham!” you scream out, face red and wet with tears, saliva dripping down to your chin, your little tail shaking in frustration as your climax was canceled. 

Alhaitham swipes the wetness that is left in his mouth as he stares at you with sharp eyes “What? You are not allowed to cum yet, that is your punishment bunny” You stare at him as your shakey leg falters once in a while, you were about to say something when Alhaitham flips your body with ease and pulls up your leg. he spreads your leg wide open, staring at your throbbing pussy. your wet slick messy pools around your thighs. Haitham pulls your hand up, holding it with only one of his hands. “you said you wanted my cock right?” Haitham pulled down his zipper, and your eye followed his hand, trailing down to see his cock spring out. the sight makes your mouth water as you feel your pussy start to throb more around nothing and your tail twitching in anticipation, Alhaitham notices this and strokes your pussy lips softly before slapping it again hard, making you jump and squeal in surprise “eeek! Haithamnnnh!” you whine out, Alhaitham’s deep chuckled echoed throughout the room as he slowly slaps his cock on your clit, making you jump every time they make contact “yes my little bunny? enjoying the view?” he teases. Alhaitham lets your hand go. he places his big hand on both sides of your hips. He pulls your hips up with ease as he slowly puts his dick in. 

“B-bunny.. s-so tight.. relax bunny it’s okay” You cannot handle his dick slowly moving in. You scream in ecstasy as your pussy engulf Alhaitham’s big cock “Haitham! too big! Too big! Oh! ha-angh! Haithammnn!” your hand reaches out to touch his abs, trying to make space to make him slow the insertion down. “ngh.. oh bunny you feel so good around me.. so tight and warm” Haitham closes his eyes for a while, trying to comprehend the way you feel around him, once he opens his eyes, a bulge is visible on your stomach where his dick imprint is visible, he lets out a breathy laugh as he slowly started to move in and out all the while still holding up your hips above the bed “look at that bunny..” he whispered as he moves your hips around his cock as if your hips is his plaything “Ngh! Haitham! oh! th-there! oh!” you throw your head back as he started to pull in and out. your mouth hangs open as your eyes rolled backward “Haitham sho ghood! sho ghoood! oh!” you moan out, He pulls out his cock almost completely before slamming back in full force, making your breast bounces according to his thrust. “look at you, ngh.. bunny.. so cute and so dumb out of your mind”

Alhaitham smirked in victory looking at your fucked out state. His thrust is consistent, making sure he almost pulls out completely before slamming back in with fierce. your mind turns blank as your saliva drips down from your chin to the bed. your mind is only filled with “haitham’s” and “cock” as you blabber out “Haitham s’good! so ghood! ah! Haitham! Haitham!” as his thrust goes faster and faster, you feel his cock getting just a bit bigger inside you. Your toes curl up as you stretch your chest upwards, with no shame in letting your breast bounce according to his tempo. The familiar tightness around your stomach became much clearer. your pussy throbbing and clenching around his cock deliciously, letting Alhaitham know you are close “You’re close bunny? hmm? you’re close?” Alhaitham teases you, right before you climax Alhaitham pulls out completely once again, making you scream. “Haitham! please, please! please let me cum!” you begged, full-on crying and sniffling as your hand tries to grab his cock. your poor state makes Alhaitham’s heart church but you have to learn your lesson “Do you want to cum bunny? are you sure? beg some more, say you’re sorry” You swallow your saliva and hiccups trying to make the most coherent words as best as you can “H-Haitham! am sorry! am Sorry! please please let me cum! please haitham ple-ahnp!” your last please is finally heard as Alhaitham thrust his cock back in, tempo faster than ever. Haitham immediately spurts out his cum after the third thrust, shooting his cum deep inside you all the while still holding your hips up, your legs are shaking as his cum triggered your climax too. Your pussy throb and squirt out a string of water as your whole body shakes “Oh! cumming cumming Haitham! ngh!” you squeal out. 

Alhaitham's chest heaves up and down as he pants. he feels his cum slowly seep out from your pussy, and he looks down to see his chest and cock wet after being splashed by your squirt. Haitham slowly puts your shaking hips down as he calms himself from his own high. “You did a great job bunny, so proud of my cute bunny” he whispered after laying down beside you. He slowly pulls your legs back together, stroking your hips to calm you down before pulling you in a hug. your shaking body and fucked out brains barely comprehend how your stomach is a little bit bulge out because of his cum deep inside of you. “Thank you bunny, shhh it's okay” Alhaitham whispers as your body shakes once in a while. Alhaitham laughs and drapes a blanket over you. “take a rest bunny, I’ll take care of the rest” Alhaitham kisses your forehead and strokes your hair gently, with love “Good job at taking your punishment bunny..” is what you heard one last time before you fell into dreamland.

[purpleberiii]

Just found out my sister about to put my family into debt by making her wedding. I'm so stressed and need a distraction.

Anyway, choking with Zoya. Soft sex with Hamel. Fucking on a bike with Bai Yi. Putting a leash on Rahu. Having Shalom ride you. Oral (giving and receiving) with Cabrnet (idk if I spelled her name right). Office sex with Langley. Pain play with chief (she might be into it with how much she puts herself into trouble). Cockwarming with Cinnabar. Teasing and edging with miss Quinn (for the love of my I couldn't spell her name). Testing Eureka's inventions on her. Machoisam with Machiato (? Idk if I spelled her name 2#). Praise kink and overestimulation with Eleven (+Voice kink, she'd be into anything as long as it involved your voice). Andibejn give me idea for Stargazer.

Ahem, ahem I luv you more (*^ω^), now gimme a hug ＼(^^)／

Aww I'm so sorry to hear that (＞x＜)

So here's your distraction 🤤

Zoya is absolutely into choking. She loves when you fuck her and wrap your hands tightly around her throat. She'll even tell you things that makes you all riled up and later you'll take it all out by cooking and fucking her till she sees the stars.

Soft sex is the best sex for Hamel. Since she's such an easy spoken person, and everything about her screams elegance and quiet, she'd be into the softer side of you. Fucking her slowly but deep and tell her sweet things and praises, she'll be absolutely putty in your hands in no time.

Bend Bai Yi over her bike and fuck her into submission. She'll scream and cream all she wants but will absolutely do anything to make you go faster. After all, she loves things that are fast ;)

Rahu with a leash makes you go feral. Tug on her leash with her hands tied behind your back as she gives you the best head of your life. With that leash, she feels completely owned by you.

Shalom is a power bottom. She loves giving you orders and telling you how she wants you to fuck her. Her honey voice will make you absolutely Melt. Her favourite position is cowgirl. It makes her feel more powerful and dominant even though at the end, she's the one with a squirting pussy and shaking legs.

Cabernet loves a feast. Her favourite one however is you. Be it whether she's giving you heads or you're giving her, she just loves it. She loves giving you head more than anything, saying that you taste delicious than anything she's ever eaten.

Langley is a busy woman, packed with stress. So whenever she barges in your office, don't expect anything else from her other than sex. Immediately your schedule will be cleared for the next five hours and the only thing that could be heard from your office is skin clapping, moans and screams.

Chief is a masochist. She loves pain and anything related to pain (only during sex ofc). Drip candle wax on her body, fuck her while spanking her, pull her hair when she's giving you heads. Do anything to make her feel pain and you'll have her cumming in less time than you intended.

Cinnabar is a pure baby but that pure baby loves cock. Her favourite thing to do is to cockwarm you during office time. It'll feel good when you have her sitting on your cock, squeezing your dick every second. At some point, she'll even ride you and then it'll turn into a full blown fuck session.

Quinn is absolutely into edging and teasing. Although she'll get frustrated, she loves the feeling of being denied that pleasure but when she does come, expect her to come hard and fast.

Since Eureka loves inventing new stuff, it wouldn't hurt to try these inventions on her, especially that vibrating dildo she created or that self moving dildo, one that she will just put in her cunt and it wil automatically thrust into her. Oh the pleased expression on your face.

Just like chief, Macchiato is a masochist. Anything related to pain will cause Macchiato pleasure. Like they say, pain is pleasure, and that's macchiato's motto. Treat her like a toy, toss her around like she's nothing but a ball, make her bounce on your cock while you stick a vibrator in her ass. All these things will get her cumming quick and hard.

Eleven loves the sound of your voice and she loves when you tease her until she can't take it anymore. Fuck her and give her praises will make her see stars. Dirty talk to her while you fuck her. Finger her while she hosts her channel and when she's on the verge of coming,pull it out. When she does get what she wants, tell her how a good girl she's been and how good she was for you. Eleven will make an absolute mess on the bed.

Stargazer is into bondage and fucking in risky places. The thought of someone possibly catching her while you're buried deep inside of her will have her cumming fast. Tie her up and put a ball gag in her mouth and stick a vibrator up her pussy while you absolutely drill into her ass. Oh boy, stargazer will indeed see the stars.

Also, I love you more my adorable yet horny berii (❁´◡`❁)(⁎˃ᴗ˂⁎)૮₍꜆꜄ ˃ ³ ˂ ₎

[thecampjuicebox]

Imagine how frustrated Haarlep would be with themself if they legitimately fell for someone. I think that might be the only way to fluster the dirty fiend. Lust and passion and indulgence, they know how to deal with. But love and tenderness and even the smallest inkling of emotional intimacy? I imagine Haarlep wouldn't hate it, just hate that they don't know what to do with it.

I mean, just imagine Haarlep puzzling over someone complementing their wit and just enjoying their company. Imagine Haarlep reacting to receiving aftercare for probably the first time in a long while. Imagine Haarlep receiving a thoughtful gift (like maybe Haarlep off-handedly mentions wanting to pursue a hobby and they later find supplies needed for said hobby gifted to them) with no string attached or any expectation of paying back the gift-giver. I would eat that kind of stuff up as if I were starving.

Anyway, thank you! Sorry for the paragraphs! Rambling over! Bye!

OKAY WAIT

You are truly on to something here. Haarlep fluff is my weakness and I am so so so so so excited to write about it whenever I get the chance. Baby deserves some lovins too!!!! (Might do a few parts to this, but for now I think Tav giving Haarlep a lil bath after sex just sounds so sweet)

Inferno Pt. 1

Pairing: Haarlep (m) x Tav (gn)

Rating: 18+, Minors DNI

POV: 3rd person

Warnings: Fluff, angst, very light smut, mutual pining, trouble accepting genuine affection, slight game spoilers (this fits in a weird spot canonically)

Chests heave in the throws of passion, sweat and sex mixing into a scent cocktail of epic proportions. Skin to skin, mouth to mouth, Tav and Haarlep ride the waves of their pleasure, completely enraptured by the sounds and heat between them. Frantic thrusts rattle the large bedframe holding the mattress up beneath them, Haarlep's wings creating a protective cocoon around their otherwise vulnerable bodies. It's become a normal occurrence, the two of them. Late nights. Early mornings. Enjoying each others' company and the animalistic fuck sessions they've grown so fond of. With Raphael constantly being busy after the fall of the absolute and Tav finding a new home in the House of Hope, Haarlep searched for newness. For "fresh meat to feast upon in trying times", as he put it originally.

Tongues wrestle for dominance in a display of conflicting power, Haarlep's hips quickening their pace to chase his end. Quiet grunts break through the warm air of the boudoir. Breaking their kiss, Haarlep takes a moment to stare down at Tav, a strange and unfamiliar warmth trickling through his limbs. Strange.. But almost comforting. Tav whispers sweet nothings into the cambion's perked up ears as they both finish and topple over the edge of ecstasy, Haarlep collapsing in his usual way against Tav's tired body. Trembling arms snake around Haarlep's torso as the two attempt to find oxygen once more, gentle fingers dancing along his spine, feeling the rise and fall of each vertebra and ridge on his hot skin. Now they lie there. Quiet. Enveloped in each other like lovers, a concept that is all too foreign to the Incubus. Love. Lust; Haarlep has known for centuries. But love.. Love is so new. So fresh, like a deep bite or the stab of a dagger. Sweet words and caring gestures typically feel like salt in the cuts. Not with Tav, however. Everything feels natural with Tav. Organic and gentle. As he relaxes into the being beneath him, his mind wanders. Their quiet breaths and the thumping of their heart nearly lulls him to sleep. A tired Tav slides their way out of Haarlep's grasp to move toward the bath, the sticky residue of sweat and spend coating their skin in an uncomfortably thick layer.

"Mm, care to join me, Haarlep? I hope it's still warm.. Hells, we're in the Hells.. Of course it's still warm."

Tav chuckles sweetly to themselves, their air of comedic cluelessness forcing Haarlep to crack a smile. The incubus lifts his head, eyes narrowing on the naked elf before him. A bath? How romantic. A shiver rumbles down Haarlep's spine at the thought and he stands, sauntering slowly toward the tub, fingers reaching out to wiggle into the eternally hot water.

"Wouldn't hurt, I suppose.."

The two settle their aching bodies into the water and Tav immediately moves closer to Haarlep, fingers searching the edge of the tub for a bar of soap and a rag. Haarlep's eyes flutter closed and he focuses on the warmth around him. The steam. The scents enveloping his senses. The gentle swish of the hot water as Tav moves about the tub. Why is Tav.. The soft brush of a soapy rag across his chest startles Haarlep from his rest, his hands moving out to quickly guard himself from the assumed intruder of his space. Panic creates a flurry in this chest, pupils blown wide. His wings spread out and fling water out of the sides of the large tub. Tav gasps loudly and takes a step back, teeth clasping down onto their bottom lip, hand barely keeping a firm grasp on the slippery bar of soap they'd used to lather the rag. A mixture of embarrassment and shame paints the saddest expression on their face and Haarlep's fluttering heart falls deep into his stomach.

"What in the Nine Hells were you just doing?"

"I was trying to.. Wash you.. I'm sorry, I-"

Regret settles itself into the crows feet at the corners of Haarlep's eyes. He frowns at the frightened elf, wings settling into the water now after their terrifying display just moments ago. Large hands reach out to Tav's wrists and tug them closer, the bar of soap slipping and falling into the tub, a small splash coating Tav's lashes in water. Haarlep chuckles. A sound Tav hasn't heard in such a genuine manner. Is he upset? Worrisome eyes lower to the rippling water between them. The reflection of Tav's face on the surface forces their eyes closed anxiously. The rag remains clutched tightly between both hands now, suds and bubbles slipping out through the cracks in their fingers and spilling into the water beside them in a mountain of sweet smelling foam.

"Well don't just stand there. Keep going."

Confusion bubbles up in Tav's throat but they oblige, approaching the sleepy cambion with the rag once more. Little swipes clean the mess from Haarlep's chest and he lets out a content sigh. He's never been taken care of this way. He's never been taken care of at all, as a matter of fact. The feeling is both comforting and so disgusting. He lies rigid now, lids blinking as he stares up at the ceiling, his hands carefully resting on Tav's hips to keep them steady in front of him. The rag moves carefully up his neck now. Gentle strokes swipe away the sweat from the night's previous activities. Pausing for a moment, Tav fumbles for the bar of soap. They huff in frustration as it slips comically out of their hands and back into the water multiple times, droplets of water landing all over Haarlep's chest, face, horns, and wings. He grins and swiftly reaches for the bar, sinking his claws into the slippery surface.

"Gotcha!"

Laughter erupts from the two occupants of the tub. Genuine laughter. Tav carefully takes the soap from the incubus's claws, rubbing the rag around its surface to create a soapy lather. Haarlep retrieves the bar once more and sets it on the side of the tub as a precaution, a grin from his previous laughing fit still lingering on his thin red lips. For a moment, all is okay. The normal rumbling in Haarlep's brain is calmed. Soothed, even. The rag moves along his cheeks to clean them off. Tav's free hand moves around the back of Haarlep's head to direct him to look at them.

"Don't want to get soap in your eyes.."

"Yes, that would burn like, well, Hell."

Another sweet giggle leaves Tav's throat and Haarlep could burst into flames right there, leaving nothing but a puddle of floating ash in the tub where he sat. He adores everything about Tav. Their smile, the shape of their body, their sweet voice. Their eyes, Gods, their eyes. Piercing and gentle, staring right through him. Reading him like a rare old Tome. Most importantly, their interest in him. Not his cock. Not what he has to offer in the sheets. Him. Haarlep's claws gently rake down Tav's sides, earning a shaky moan from the elf's parted lips. Their resolve falters for a moment before the rag makes its way toward Haarlep's wings, rubbing gentle circles around the cherry colored leather skin. Haarlep sighs happily, his tail subconsciously wrapping itself around Tav's plush thigh. The tip rubs against their sex, making their knees buckle beneath them. With a swift tug, Tav falls against Haarlep, his hands moving to the globes of their ass now to hold them tightly against his lap, one hand moving to adjust their legs to wrap around him. Their eyes meet, and it's like the room around them catches fire. Sparks, lightning, flames, all igniting at once. Haarlep's stomach turns.

The unfamiliar feeling rises up again. It burns in his belly. Snakes its way through his arms and legs. Tingles like Weave in his spinal cord. He clears his throat, pressing even further into Tav while his tail continues the slow back and forth friction against them. The sounds he earns from the specimen against him just fuels his fire and he sinks his teeth into the top of their shoulder, little rivulets of blood pooling in the indentations he left there. With a grin, he licks the broken flesh. Tav writhes in his arms in excitement, reaching their arms up to give Haarlep's horns a gentle tug backward, forcing his gaze to fall upon their needy expression. With a huff, the incubus licks his lips, eyebrows knitting together apologetically.

"I'm sorry, I can't help myself.."

"You don't have to. Not with me.."

[halfdead-halfskeleton]

Notes:

Lilia x You. Reader knows how to sew clothing(while author does not)

Based off Suitors suit vignette. Technically it's a continuation of the story, so make sure to read the vignette before this fic

A lot of background characters, but I'm not tagging all of them

A bit non-linear storytelling?

The suit was made of magic, meaning it will disappear after a certain amount of time. The fact that such a beautiful sight is not going to stay here for long made your heart ache. And yet, you continued to smile and tried your best to memorize every tiny detail of the tuxedo. You had a plan, after all.

"Feast your eyes while you still can!" said Lilia. The tuxedo Malleus created for him was just marvelous! You and Sebek competed in who's going to complement Lilia more while his face was shining with a smile. Your face did too, it even hurt a bit to smile so much.

The next couple of months casually went by in your room, as you hunched over your secret project. If only your school life wasn't so busy and sometimes downright chaotic, you might have finished it sooner... And if the cruel thing that is perfectionism wouldn't criticize your every move.

After a few not-so-successful, to put it lightly, attempts, you finally finished recreation the suit Malleus made for Lilia back when ghosts that invaded the school for a marriage ceremony left.

Your first attempt failed because you were so obsessed with the idea of recreating the outfit you forgot to take Lilia's measurements. While the final product turned out to be quite nice, it wouldn't fit Lilia at all. Also you didn't have some accessories the original outfit had, which you noticed only at the end.

And so, you began anew, but now without the fabric you intended to use. The end result turned out too different from the tuxedo you remembered. The shade of green? Too vibrant. The pattern on the ribbon? Wrong. The pants? Actually quite nice, but that's the only part of the outfit you liked. And after your sewing machine unexpectedly broke you lost all the crumbs of motivation there were left...

Thankfully, you became a good friends with some students at NRC. While you were earning money for a new sewing machine, Vil and Kalim searched for the fabric and accessories that matched Lilia's suitor suit. Vil didn't get to witness the tuxedo, so you and Kalim had to explain how it looked like. You even showed him all the sketches you made and the first attempt suit as an example.

"Wow, your skill is really shinning here!" Kalim carefully examined the suit from all angles together with Vil. "It's really unfortunate your sewing machine broke... Are you sure you don't want me to get you a new one? It's going to be way faster than working in Mostro Lounge for a whole month."

"That's right, but I'm already asking you for help, you know. It won't be so fair if you do everything for me!" you answered and looked at Vil, who's also visibly impressed by your skills.

"The stitching is quite nice, you clearly took your time to make it the best suit it could be. I'm glad to see you actually listened to the advice I gave you during previous projects. Alright, I'll lend you a hand as well. Just remember that my schedule is tight, so it will take a while to find everything you need."

"Thank you both so, so much!" As you said that, Kalim came closer to give you a big hug. He was super excited to see how it will turn out!

After mountains and mountains of work, you left out a sign. Not out of exhaustion or frustration, but out of relief. You did it. You DID it! Finally, even when it seemed like the whole universe itself didn't want you to complete the suit, you did it!

"Good job." A sudden pat on your back woke you up from all the thoughts. It was Vil who just entered the room. After a minute or so, Kalim came here too.

"Sorry for making you wait!" He panted and leaned on the closest wall. "Oh, I got so scared when I couldn't find the Albert chain I had to call Jamil and a couple of other Scarabia students for help. We found it! It's the same one I gave Lilia that night."

"Wait, if that's the same one... Is it really okay for me to take it? You could get something similar, but..."

"But? I thought you wanted to make 1:1 recreation. Why are you backing up now?" Vil asked with a frown on the face. You pulled him closer and whispered:

"Because it costs 10 million thaumarks!" Such shocking information left Vil speechless for a minute.

"Well, I thought the original one would suit him better! So here it is." As Kalim said that, he placed the Albert chain with a bat on the outfit. You looked at your creation, the exact copy of the tuxedo Malleus has created with magic. Even though some tears appeared on your eyes, your face radiated joy. You finally did it.

It was an after-school evening when you decide to gift Lilia the suit you've been working so hard on. As you roamed around Diasomnia dorm, something poked your back. Strangely, when you looked back there was nothing and no-one. So you turned your head forward and immediately got spooked by upside-down Lilia!

"Ehehe." He smiled mischievously, yet still helped you to get back up. "It's rare to see non-Diasomnia students here at such time. Could it be that you're looking for someone?" Lilia's eyes were set on the box you carried, it was wrapped nicely, like a birthday present.

When your heartbeat calmed down, you remembered the words you prepared in your head. "Yes, there is... But I'm not sure if they'll actually like the present I made. Could you take a look?"

"Oh? A skilled dressmaker like you wishes to hear my opinion? I would be more than glad to assist you." Your heart skipped a beat. Did someone tell him about your secret project? Who could that- oh, probably Kalim, since they're in the same club. And even if Kalim didn't tell it exactly to him, but Cater instead, Lilia would still find out. But maybe Lilia doesn't actually know and said it just because?.. You're kind of known for your great sewing skills. Or... "Let's do it in my room, I was right on my way there." You brushed off the haunting thoughts away and headed to Lilia's room, trying to calm down.

His face beamed with happiness when you let him unwrap the present. Although at first he wondered if it was really okay. "It would be rather troublesome to wrap it back up when you're going to gift it to that person."

"Don't worry, I won't have to do it." A surprised gasp echoed in the room. Lilia carefully picked up the tuxedo, examining every detail. He couldn't believe his eyes. "So, what do you think?"

After a minute of silence, he smiled. "I still remember this tuxedo. I'm really proud of Malleus for coming up with such an elaborate design. And I'm really proud of you for recreating it up to every single detail." As Lilia said that, his eyes began to tear up a bit. "That night I wore a tuxedo for the first time in my life. It's hard to believe I can re-experience that moment again."

"Do you wish to wear it right now?" While you did take Lilia's and some other students'(to make it less suspicious) measurements long time ago, anxiety kept telling you you might have made a mistake at some point.

"I'm eager to wear it!" You smiled unknowingly when Lilia's gentle laugh reached your ears. In a couple of minutes you re-entered the room to see him happily dancing in the suit you made. The moment he saw you he reached for your hand. "Would you mind to dance with me for a moment? Such a delightful gift deserves a special thank-you!"

Blush painted your cheeks red, and heart began to beat faster with joy and excitement. You happily accepted Lilia's offer, taking his hand in yours. And so, you danced around the room. At one point Lilia began to hum a sweet melody. You joined him, and you both hummed in unison while dancing across the room.

You knew this moment, no matter how joyous and bright, would end eventually. So you made sure to enjoy every last bit of it, engraving it in your memory for eternity. And so did he.

[generational-atrophy]

Hi can I get the uhhhhhh the main 8 with a cook s/o? Like s/o can make almost food they want and the food taste like amazing!!! Thanks you :3

(Hetalia Main 8 x Reader) Cook S/O!

(Gender Neutral) Headcanons ~ A/N i love when u guys request stuff like ur ordering from a restaurant. Like yes sirrreee coming right up

Trigger Warning: None, just fluff!

Oh, he’d absolutely adore this! He’s got terrible taste, so maybe you can finally make him… normal. He’ll love anything you make, so get crazy with it.

Just don’t let him in the chicken. You’ll ask him to boil something and when you turn around, he puts it in the microwave instead. He wants to help! He just never learned even… the basics of cooking.

Surprisingly, he has a pretty diverse palette (despite being picky) so you’d never have to tone anything done when cooking for the two of you.

Well… this is ironic. A world-renownedly terrible chef dating a great one. What is this, a sitcom?

Just please don’t let him near your food before it’s done. It’s like his touch is cursed. You ask him to measure out the milk and next thing you know he’s bleeding all over the place. How? Well, it doesn’t really matter compared to the fact that he’s getting his blood in your precious meal!

Seeing your talent, he’ll definitely ask you to make a few classic British dishes. But when he hands you the recipe… there is no way for it to be tasty without changing basically everything. But if you do that, he probably won’t notice and will just start gushing about how perfect it is. Guess that’s what happens when you have no tastebuds.

Oh wow, he’s blown away! Francis prides himself on his fancy food, and yet you’ve outdone him completely in a quarter of the time! You must be truly gifted…

Pretty soon every meal will be treated like he’s a world-star food critic. Which, technically, he could be. He knows quite a lot about the culinary arts and would love to share that love with you. There is no better way to show you care other than slaving over a hot stove to create something wonderful.

But don’t expect to be cooking all the time. He would love to make traditional French cuisine for you, anytime you ask.

Great, being upstaged by someone a hundredth of his age. Well, you’re lucky he loves you so much. He takes a lot of pride in his cooking, so seeing you make something better than he ever could… shameful!

That being said, he’s still excited. If you’re this talented, imagine what your food would taste like with his old tricks. Imagine what you could do with his traditional dishes… he’s drooling already.

It’ll be hard for him not to show you off. I mean, power couple much? You can work together to create a feast so magnificent everyone around the world will be jealous!

The smell of freshly cooked food, the warmth, the exquisite taste; Why, aren’t you a perfect little partner! He should ask you to cook all the time…

He may not be much of a savant himself, but it doesn’t take a skilled taste to tell how great your food is.  And he could not be happier! Can you make him some traditional Russian dishes? Please? He’s sure that you can do them perfectly! And he would love you forever for it :) (He would love you forever anyway, but he just really, really wants you to cook for him.)

 He’s also going to try to show you off. He just thinks you’re the most talented person in this whole world and your gift should be shared with everyone!

Not to brag, but he’s been known as quite the chef as well. Italian cuisine is known worldwide for its tastiness… and now he can share his roots with someone who can truly appreciate it!

He might even start crying upon tasting some of your dishes… he just can’t believe how good it is! It takes him back to his childhood… or something. Really, he’s just super emotional. But he couldn’t be more proud of you!

Plus you guys can cook together, how picture-perfect. Although actually… he’ll probably get frustrated if you guys are both stuffed into his tiny kitchen together. He’ll just cook for you instead. Maybe you can give him a few pointers, just as he can for you!

Ludwig really admires your talent! He’s never been much of a connoisseur himself, even if he wanted to. But maybe now that you two are together, that’ll change.

He insists on watching you cook. He really wants to learn from you, but he’s a little worried about messing up your incredible work at first. But if you ask him to help, he’ll happily be your little worker bee.

German food is not known for being very… flavorful.  But maybe you can teach him to love the unfamiliar.

If you’re so good at cooking, can he join you? He loves making things with those he loves, and cooking is one of the best ways to do so. And he’ll be shocked if you can outmatch him (you probably can.)

Even if your cooking is the best on earth, he insists on making food for you two most nights. It’s not that he doesn’t like yours! No, not at all, he just doesn’t wanna put that pressure on you.

Pretty soon, he’ll ask to teach you traditional Japanese dishes. Please indulge him, he’d really appreciate it.

[beesmygod]

JJBA PART 5, VENTO AUREO IS THE UNDERBAKED MESS I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT FIXING...PART 1

imagine you are celebrating your big promotion at the pigeon crushing factory (in this world you make a living crushing pigeons into a cube, this isnt important) and decide to treat yourself to a delicious hibachi feast at the local grill. as you sit down, your chef introduces himself to you; to your surprise, the chef is reknown mangaka hirohiko araki!

"wow, amazing!" you think to yourself, "i can't wait to see what delicious treats he has waiting for me, especially after that scrumptious part 4 i had last time". araki smiles knowingly, seeing the recognition of his talent in the gleam of your wide eyes. with a dramatic flourish, begins his work. a wild and frenzied solo performance begins. ingredients are chopped and flung with dazzling accuracy, speed, and showmanship until you are presented with the fruits of his labor: a new dish, just for you.

there's one problem. he forgot to turn on the grill. or maybe he never meant to. his confidence leaves you unsure of what to do when he starts flinging raw onions into your mouth and encouraging you to chew. like the tragic chef from the clickhole video, he has served you a plate of raw chicken and vegetables and is now looking at you with his arms crossed over his chest waiting for you to dig in.

its not all bad. you can eat some of the veggies as long as they don't touch the chicken, but the majority of it is inedible. you didnt even get to see him do the cool onion thing. you push the plate back unfinished and hoping for an explanation for what the fuck just happened but when you look up, you realize araki has already left. his big chef hat and coat are lying on the floor where he shed them on his new journey to start a raw foods store having discovered his passion for organic veggies. next time you crush so many pigeons you get another promotion, you try the new store and its delicious. can't fault him, i guess!

this is the experience of watching jojo part 5.

---

and LOOK. i'm not lacking in perspective here. its presumptuous to say "i can do better" or "i could fix this" when it comes to anyone's work, let alone the work of someone singular like hirohiko araki. no one's brain operates the way his does, as evidenced by the paltry and weak attempts by the spin-off artists who struggle to recapture that same magic; they all lack whatever je ne se quoi araki has tapped into that's off limits to every other human on planet earth.

straight up, my approach to storytelling is too conventional to be a good replacement for araki's (who seems to be just completely unhinged both on and off the page) so my suggestions to "fix" part 5 are going to be broad strokes and not finely tuned fanfictions. there are just...things i would have like to see happen. and the list is long enough that i think it necessitates that this essay be done in parts. but everything you need to fix it is right there within the existing text. much like the bad meal, the manga (presumably, i only watched the anime. no! stop booing me!) has all the ingredients, the passion, and the skills to create a satisfying end result, its genuinely just missing the ability to bring it all together in a satisfying way. and it is so, so frustrating to watch unfold from the comfort of your couch.

however, for people not in the jojo know-know (who are just reading this bc it started with a pigeon crushing metaphor and you wanted to see where it was going), i do have to explain the historical lens we have to consider with part 5: it wound up being the first evolutionary step of araki's change in art style and story-telling conventions. the fashion aesthetics are wilder, the stakes are bigger, and the stands (WAY) more esoteric. with hindsight, we can look back and understand that it turned out to be weird because he was experimenting in real time (as artists who work serially have to due to the nature of the job) with what he was interested in and what he wanted to explore. so there's nothing WRONG with part 5 in the cosmic sense. and it wasn't without entertainment. and most of the characters were great!

it just that this whole thing causes me enough mental anguish to think about day in and day out to the point of writing what will turn out to be an embarrassing amount of words about my objectively least favorite part of a body of work i've come to adore. its fine. whatever.

come with me...join me whether you know jojo or not, as i try to stay sane tonight and many other nights. watch with concern and glee i rant incoherently about things that will make me seem like an absolute raving lunatic to anyone who is only barely familiar with the franchise and loosely understands it, as i only did, as a series about people who do pokemon but with ghosts who punch people.

first up, i need to do some comic work, and then we can talk about AHHH

OUT! GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT OF HERE! GET THAT BEAST AWAY

AHHH

[thebettybook]

Hi! I want to start by saying you're my favourite twisted wonderland writer, everytime I see you post something new I know I'll love it, and the way you write Leona, is amazing :) Now, I wanted to make a request for your writing event (it was so hard to chose, so many good options T-T), can I have numbers numbers 23 and 25 with the letter A, please? And if you can tag me in it once you post it. Thank you! 💞

Hi, @cosmidaydreaming! Thank you for your kind words :)💞

Updated request: Leona and gn!reader are NOT in an established romantic relationship

Important note: I’m NOT taking anymore requests for my “Fall’ing for Ya” writing event :)

Some slight Book 3 spoilers mentioned!

I mention my Ramshackle Ghost OCs in this fic :)

23. ❛ you remembered? ❜

25. ❛ I’m here for you. don’t forget that.❜

A. Baking pumpkin pie with Leona

🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁

🍂 Tantalizing scents of miso-glazed salmon, butternut squash pasta, and hazelnut soup lingered in the tiny Ramshackle kitchen as Ramsey, resident dorm chef and one of the Ramshackle ghosts, whisked the dishes away to the mini dining room.

🍂 It would’ve been just another normal dinner at Ramshackle, but this fall season made Ramsey long for the dinners he used to share with his loved ones during his life throughout the fall seasons, so he decided to create a feast for you, Grim, and the two other Ramshackle ghosts: Joe and Allen.

🍂 Ramsey (knowing that you had a crush on Leona), had also urged you to invite Leona over for dinner as well, disguising the intention as a “thank you” to Leona sharing his umbrella with you that one rainy day.

🍂 So here you and Leona were, side-by-side in the kitchen as the two of you made pumpkin pie for dessert.

🍂 You set down a freshly-baked pie tin of pumpkin pie crust and took off your oven mitts. Leona held the handle of an electric mixer with his right hand to mix the pumpkin purée in a bowl. His gaze was concentrated on the pumpkin purée mixture as the electric mixer filled the kitchen with its whirrrrs.

🍂 However, you noticed the iron grip Leona had on the mixer’s handle and the way his eyebrows knitted together in frustration.

🍂 You deduced that whatever caused his frustration didn’t stem from pumpkin pie, since making pumpkin pie wasn’t that challenging, even for Leona (who never baked or cooked).

🍂 Leona, feeling your gaze on him, glanced at you from the side. “You look like you want to ask me something, herbivore.”

🍂 “Ah,” you shot Leona a sheepish smile. “You seem…annoyed? Did something bad happen today?”

🍂 Leona paused for a second, before saying, “…Crowley flew into Savanaclaw earlier today tellin’ me that I have until the end of the school year to decide where I’m gonna do my internship for senior year.”

🍂 “I see,” you replied, noting Leona’s neutral expression as you added a dash of cinnamon into the pumpkin purée mixture. “Have you applied to any internships?”

🍂 “Nope,” Leona replied simply, turning off the mixer with an abrupt whir. “Why bother?”

🍂 Your eyes met his jaded-green ones. “Care to elaborate on that?”

🍂 Leona turned away from the mixer bowl and crossed his arms as he leaned back against the mini island. “I can get an internship in any subject or field I want,” Leona stated. “On my own merit, whether that be playing for the big leagues in Magift or doing scholarly research for botany…but what’s the point in tryin’ so hard? I don’t actually need a career.”

🍂 You mirrored Leona’s stance as you leaned back against the island. Your shoulder and his bumped softly against each other, but neither one of you scooted away.

🍂 “Isn’t the point of an internship to find out what you’re passionate about or to get to know your passions better?” you glanced up at Leona, whose dark-brown eyebrows knitted more in frustration at the thoughts of his unknown, uncertain future.

🍂 “I already know what my passions are, but they won’t take me anywhere long term,” Leona huffed. “A Magift sports career won’t last forever, and I’m not interested in dedicating my life to scholarly work for botany.”

🍂 “So what other choices do you have?” you inquired. The two of you practically forgot about the pumpkin pie you were supposed to make by now.

🍂 “Well, as a prince of Afterglow Savannah, I have the option to work as a diplomat for my dear older brother after graduation,” Leona spat out the words “prince” and “dear older brother.” “That means I’d help with Afterglow Savannah’s foreign relations and improve ‘em…but still be in Farena’s shadow.”

🍂 You noticed the shadow that cast over Leona’s face as he thought about being stuck in Farena’s shadow once again in the future.

🍂 That’s why Leona decided to go to NRC in the first place: to escape Farena’s shadow and Leona’s nephew Cheka’s future shadow. But Leona also knew that he couldn’t stay at NRC forever and purposefully hold himself back every year anymore.

🍂 NRC offered Leona a safe haven away from the shadows that were his brother’s legacy and the attendants, servants, officials that would literally gossip and insult Leona from the shadows.

🍂 Here at NRC, Leona had a “kingdom” of his own in Savanaclaw. Leona wasn’t ready to give that up.

🍂 You contemplated what to say or do next. Leona wasn’t one to be easily comforted by words or physical affection like hugs. He preferred actions, which could tell him a lot about someone and their intentions. Thus, you resisted the urge to give Leona a hug and simply placed your hand on his.

🍂 Leona, though surprised by your action, didn’t pull his hand away from yours. Your hand was still warm from carrying the pie tin earlier, and Leona found the warmth of your hand comforting.

🍂 “…I don’t want to be in my brother’s shadow,” Leona admitted after a few seconds of silence. “Not then, not now, and certainly not in the future.”

🍂 “Do you want some advice?” you asked softly. Leona still didn’t pull his hand away from yours, and stared back at you with a look in his eyes that vulnerably encompassed hopelessness and despair.

🍂 “Sure, why not,” Leona sighed, not at you but from the heavy thoughts of the future and the past weighing on his mind.

🍂 “How about keeping an open mind to internship options?” you suggested. “I know and you know that you can excel in any field, but it wouldn’t hurt to try some options out. It could be fun, too.”

🍂 “Hmph,” Leona stared down at your hand on his. “We’ll see.”

🍂 “Y’know, I look forward to seeing what you do in the future,” you shot a teeny grin at Leona.

🍂 “Yeah? And why’s that?” Leona lifted his eyes up from your hand on his to look at you.

🍂 “Because I care about you,” you answered simply. “Anyways, whatever you decide to do in the future, whatever career you end up having, I’m here for you. Don’t forget that. And not just me, but also your Savanaclaw members and the Magift members look up to you and care about you as well.”

🍂 Growing up, no one ever expressed an interest in Leona’s future. His family, his attendants, his caretakers, and the officials were too busy caring about Farena’s future as King of Afterglow Savannah.

🍂 Thus it felt foreign to Leona that someone, and even more people at NRC, cared about Leona and his future. Maybe it was a sign that he should start caring for his own future, too.

🍂 “…You all sure have a lot of faith in me,” Leona mumbled.

🍂 Leona knew that he also held himself back on purpose because he felt and believed that there wasn’t a point to try at anything if all anyone would ever see was a “despaired second prince”—a label that was created for him and stuck with him ever since he was a child…a label created by people who never cared for him.

🍂 But what this smart lion failed to realize was that there were people around him now who respected him as a leader and as a person. There were people now that saw and believed that Leona’s achievements do matter, even if those achievements didn’t include ruling a country.

🍂 And while Leona may still find that hard to believe, maybe someday he will.

🍂 “Hey, you were the one who had faith in me when you helped me brainstorm a way to defeat Azul’s contract shenanigans,” you winked at Leona. “Though I know you only helped me because you wanted to get rid of whatever contract you had with Azul. I still wanna know what kind of contract you had with Azul, by the way.”

🍂 “You remembered? Geez, that was months ago,” Leona smirked despite himself, trying to change the subject from his past contract with Azul. “And for the record, I knew you were capable of figurin’ out a way to get rid of those contracts.”

🍂 “Please, you also just didn’t want me staying in your room anymore,” you rolled your eyes. “And for me and Grim to stop singing ‘It’s a Small World’ to you.”

🍂 “Ugh, not that annoying lullaby,” Leona groaned. “You have no idea how many time I’ve heard that song as a kid, no thanks to my caretakers.”

🍂 You elbowed Leona’s arm playfully. “If you keep holding yourself back to the point where I end up graduating before you, I’ll come over to your room every morning and sing ‘It’s a Small World’.”

🍂 To your surprise, Leona simply leaned in, captivating you with his smug and (you had to begrudgingly admit) handsome smirk. “Wouldn’t be so bad getting to see your face every morning.”

🍂 “Cheeky lion,” you didn’t miss a beat, staring into Leona’s eyes to show that you were serious.

🍂 Leona leaned in closer, his face just inches from yours. His emerald eyes danced with embers of mischievous fire, challenging you to break away from his gaze. “Troublesome herbivore.”

🍂 Even if Leona did call you “troublesome,” the way his body relaxed near your presence and the way his knitted eyebrows softened were tells that he valued your friendship and words.

🍂 You and Leona continued to stare at each other, not knowing whether to lean in more or pull away. Before you could lean in and Leona could at the same time, Ramsey burst into the kitchen.

🍂 “Time for dinner, kiddos!” Ramsey floated about at the door.

🍂 You broke away from Leona’s gaze to raise an eyebrow at the ghost. “But we didn’t even finish making the pumpkin pie yet.”

🍂 “Eh, you two can finish that after dinner,” Ramsey waved his transparent hands to shoo you and Leona out of the kitchen. “The food’s about to get cold, so no time like the present.”

🍂 …No time like the present, huh? Leona thought as he walked with you and Ramsey to join the other ghosts and Grim at the dining table.

🍂 As Leona sat down on a chair next to you, and the ghosts began conversing about tons of things like the fall weather to Christmas plans, or asking how school was going for you, Grim, and Leona as they passed around the food, Leona realized that for now, he could enjoy the present moment.

🍂 Leona still had some time to think about his future internship and career and his overall future, but there was no time like the present.

🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁

Little note:

🍓 I made references to “It’s a Small World” and how in the Halloween Event Pt 2, Leona told Ace that his caretakers would sing that song for him as a kid, but he’d prefer “Be Prepared” instead.

Important:

🍓I don’t own any of the characters I mention or write about; they belong to their original and respective creators.

🍓All content on this blog is created by me, @thebettybook. Do not modify, claim, repost or translate my work onto this platform or any other platform.

🍓Reblogs are appreciated. Want to read Leona romance fluff? Check out my masterlist

[braveclementine]

Chapter 8

Warnings: None, Readers under 18 can read this book. It is solely fluff- nothing sexual

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

.💙💙💙.

𝕳𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖞 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕴 were let out of the hospital wing on Monday and we went back to attending classes. It was a relief to be back with other people. Of course, Draco Malfoy imitated Harry and I falling off our brooms over and over again every time one of us walked past. It was really getting on my nerves.

I kept my cool though. Cedric had us training constantly so that we could potentially win against Ravenclaw. I had to keep turning back hours to complete multiple classes. I kept leaving a food basket in the woods though I hadn't seen Sirius in a long time. I conversed with Firenze and sometimes Ronan or Ivagio about the stars and the future. I visited Hagrid with either Ginny or Hermione. And also, my private lessons with my teachers, and occlumency with dad.

Occlumency left me shivery afterwards and usually frustrated. I was not good at it unless there was something I really didn't want dad to see- like my interactions with Snape or my dreams.

We didn't work on the Patronus charm anymore, occlumency seemed to be dad's priority. So, I had started working on the charm by myself in an abandoned classroom or in the forest. It was coming along much better than Occlumency was, though I hadn't produced a corporeal patronus yet.

The bell rang and I hurried from class. I wanted to go and pop in and say hi to dad real quick. He was up and teaching again. I hurried through the hallways but when I heard him talking to someone, I stopped quickly.

"Why did they have to come to the match?" It was Harry's voice- bitter.

"They're getting hungry." Dad said in a cool voice. "Dumbledore won't let them into the school, so their supply of human prey has dried up. . . I don't think they could resist the large crowd around the Quidditch field. All that excitement. . . emotions running high. . . it was their idea of a feast."

"Elizabeth saved me." Harry said suddenly. "Did you hear about that?"

"Yes." Dad said and he sounded proud. "I did hear about that as a matter of fact."

Harry was silent for a second. I waited and then, I turned and left. I didn't want to hear anymore.

.💙💙💙.

𝕽𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖜 𝖋𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖉 𝖚𝖘 at the next match, much to my irritation. It had been a long, tiring game too. I'd managed to score a few goals though- nearly all of them- and I was glad because dad was watching today. Of course, like nearly every other game, I nearly broke my head open with a bludger.

But there were no injuries at the end of the game when the Ravenclaw seeker- Cho Chang- caught the snitch. We were disappointed, but now we could cheer on Gryffindor. I was a bit disappointed for another reason. It was barely even Christmas time and my Quidditch season was already over.

"There's always next year." Cedric said with a wistful look on his face.

Yes. I supposed there was always next year.

The days passed quickly despite turning back hours, probably because I needed time to slow down. I supposed I could've used the time turner to create more hours for homework, but I decided to use it only for getting to class. (Unless I got desperate. Only then would I use it for homework).

There was another Hogsmeade trip the last week before term and I wondered if I really even wanted to go. I decided I would, for a short amount of time, and then come back.

I went with Hermione and Ron and we left Harry behind. My bag was empty again and I was trying to think up different gifts for the others. Christmas was coming soon.

Ron and Hermione decided that we would stop inside Honeydukes first. I bought boxes of chocolates for each person I wanted to give a gift to.

I also got Pepper Imps and Ice Mice because I wanted to try them out and I hadn't bought them last time.

"What should we get for Harry?" Hermione asked Ron, looking around. We were in the Unusual Tastes section.

"How about those?" Ron asked, pointing at the blood-flavored lollipops.

"Ugh, no, Harry won't want one of those, they're for vampires, I expect." Hermione was saying.

I picked one up and said, "I wonder if they actually taste like blood."

"I wouldn't be surprised." Hermione said, shivering. I decided I'd buy it and try it out.

"How about these?" Ron said, picking up a jar of Cockroach Clusters and stuffed them under Hermione's nose.

A different voice made all of us jump. "Definitely not."

"Harry!" Hermione squealed, "What are you doing here? How- how did you-?" Hermione looked like she may have a heart attack.

"Wow!" Ron said with a very impressed look on his face, "you've learned to Apparate!"

I giggled.

"'Course I haven't." Harry said. He dropped his voice and said, "Fred and George got this map from Filch. It shows all the different secret passageways and stuff. Anyways I found a secret passage from the cellar of Hogsmeade to Hogwarts."

"Wicked." I said, grinning.

"How come Fred and George never gave it to me!" Ron said, outraged, "I'm their brother!"

"But Harry isn't going to keep it!" Hermione said in an astonished voice, "He's going to hand it in to Professor McGonagall, aren't you, Harry?"

"No, I'm not!" Harry said a bit loudly.

"Are you mad?" Ron said, looking at Hermione as though she were mad. "Hand in something that good?"

"If I hand it in, I'll have to say where I got it! Filch would know Fred and George had nicked it!" Harry said, arguing the logic.

I felt my stomach twist. While I knew Hermione wasn't going to tell, I felt nervous in real time. Imagine Fred and George reluctantly giving it over, and then being in trouble only hours later.

"But what about Sirius Black!" Hermione hissed and I very nearly rolled my eyes. "He could be using one of the passages on that map to get into the castle! The teachers have got to know!" That was a good point too.

I intervened. "Hermione, Sirius is never going to use that secret passage."

We looked at each other for a second and Hermione tentatively asked, "Are you positive?"

I was silent for a moment, thinking. It was true, he would never use this passage ever. But in the end, he would use the passageway under the Whomping Willow. I only knew this because I was concentrating really hard. I wondered briefly if he was staying in the Shrieking Shack right now. . ."Yes, I'm positive." I finally said, hoping that I wasn't lying.

"Fine." Hermione sighed. Ron showed Harry around the shop while we paid for our sweets. "You are sure, right?" Hermione whispered in my ear.

I simply nodded. We headed out into the cold while Ron and Hermione pointed out different shops. I wondered if we could go into the Three Broomsticks. There were no dementors around, they were floating up very high in the sky.

Ron finally voiced the opinion that we should go into the Three Broomsticks, and so we went in. I looked around curiously. I'd never been inside before.

There were high beams crossing the roof made of wood. There were many wooden tables and booths scattered around the room in neat rows. Christmas trees decorated the corners of the room. In the back was a bar with stools and a young woman with blond hair was serving customers from behind it. She was thin and curvy and had a very pretty face. Her full lips were coloured red and she was obviously wearing mascara.

"That's Madam Rosmerta." Said Ron, who had gone red in the face. "I'll get the drinks, shall I?"

I giggled again as he set off for the bar. Harry, Hermione, and I went into the back corner of the room into an empty booth. We were near the fireplace and there was a Christmas tree that was by us. Ron came back about five minutes later, even redder than he'd been when he'd left us, carrying two tanks of butterbeer in each hand.

He handed Hermione and I our tankards. The tankards were made of glass and I could feel the heat coming through the material. I'd never actually had butterbeer before and was excited. Dad had always said that my first sip should be here with friends, no matter how many times I'd asked for the drink before. I realized now, that he was right. I was going to have to tell him.

"Merry Christmas!" Ron said, lifting his tankard and we all clinked ours together.

We all drank and I realized that it was one of the best things I had ever tasted. It was sweet, but not overly sweet, and hot so that it filled the insides of your body from head to toe. But I felt something was coming and on a premonition, I grabbed the tankard from Harry's hands.

The other three looked at me in shock and I hissed, "Get under the table now." At the same time, the doors opened and in came Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Hagrid. Hagrid was talking to the Minister of Magic- Fudge.

Harry quickly ducked under the table. At least now he wasn't going to be dripping with butterbeer.

"Hermione." I hissed again, "The tree."

Hermione whispered, "Mobiliarbus!" And the Christmas tree rose a few inches off the ground, landing in front of our table, hiding us all from view.

I could feel Harry's body against my leg (Hermione and Ron were sitting across from me). I handed him down his tankard of butterbeer so he could drink it- if he wanted to. I took another sip of the drink, mostly for something to do. Stupid Harry. Should've brought the damn Invisibility Cloak.

There was a click of heels and I heard a voice I'd never heard before say, "A small gillywater?"

"Mine." Professor McGonagall's voice said crisply.

"Four pints of Mulled Mead?"

"Ta, Rosmerta." Came Hagrid's boisterous voice.

"A cherry syrup and soda with ice and umbrella?"

"Mmm!" Professor Flitwick said, smacking his lips and I burst into silent giggles and muffled my mouth against my arm.

"So you'll be the red currant rum, Minister." Madam Rosmerta finished off.

"Thank you, Rosmerta, m'dear." Fudge said. "Lovely to see you again, I must say. Have one yourself, won't you? Come and join us. . ."

"Well, thank you very much, Minister." Rosmerta said and there was the sound of heels leaving and then heels returning and another chair being pulled up to the table.

I twitched my leg nervously. How long were the teachers going to be here?

"So, what brings you to this neck of the woods, Minister?" Rosmerta asked.

"What else, m'dear, but Sirius Black? I daresay you heard what happened up at the school at Halloween?" Fudge said a few moments after she'd asked the question.

"I did hear a rumor." Madam Rosmerta said.

"Did you tell the whole pub, Hagrid?" Professor McGonagall asked in an exasperated voice.

"Do you think Black's still in the area, Minister?" Rosmerta asked and so Hagrid never answered the question.

"I'm sure of it." Fudge said shortly.

"You know that the dementors have searched the whole village twice? Madam Rosmerta said, an icy edge to her voice. "Scared all my customers away. . . It's very bad for business, Minister."

Fudge sounded uncomfortable as he answered, "Rosmerta, m'dear, I don't like them any more than you do. Necessary precaution unfortunate, but there you are. . . I've just met some of them. They're in a fury against Dumbledore- he won't let them inside the castle grounds."

"I should think not." Professor McGonagall said in a sharp voice, "How are we supposed to teach with those horrors floating around?"

I shuddered at the thought of the dementors floating around the school. I'm sure I'd be embarassing myself even further, fainting every day and whatnot. I made a mental note to practice the patronus charm more than I already was.

"Hear, hear!" Professor Flitwick squeaked in a high pitched voice.

"All the same. . ." Fudge said, "If that girl you talked about would just give us something. . ."

I straightened up and stared at them- well where they would've been if the tree wasn't there. Hermione and Ron looked at me quickly too.

"Girl?" Madam Rosmerta asked in a curious voice, "What girl are you talking about?"

"Her name is Elizabeth Kane." Professor McGonagall said crisply and my cheeks flushed with embarrassed colour. Hermione and Ron looked at me quickly.

"According to Dumbledore, she can see the future." Fudge said. "Now if only she would direct her thoughts towards Black's capture, perhaps we'd have caught him by now."

"Now see here, Minister." Hagrid said in a sharp, almost cold voice, "Elizabeth ain' a tool. She's jus' a student like teh others."

I felt a special love towards Hagrid at that moment.

"Yes." Professor McGonagall said, also in a cold voice, "She has other things to be worried about. It is not her business to catch Sirius Black."

"I've never met this girl." Madam Rosmerta said, in a fascinated voice.

I shifted in my seat, looking down at the table, clenching my butterbeer tankard. Hermione and Ron made a point of not looking at me as well.

"She's the smartest student we have up at the school." Professor McGonagall said, "She's a third-year in Hufflepuff. She's very close with Harry Potter."

"Oh!" Madam Rosmerta said. "Of course, she's the girl in the article about whether or not she was Harry Potter's sister!"

"Tha' would be her." Hagrid said.

We all looked at each other nervously. My leg was bouncing up and down, rubbing against Harry's shoulder.

"Anyways." Fudge said dismissively, getting to the reason of why he was here. "I'd much rather she see something anyways. But the original point, the dementors are here for protection. We all know what Black is capable of, of course."

"I still have trouble believing it, you know." Madam Rosmerta said in a voice of those who were reminiscing about past events, "Of all the people to go over to the Dark Side, Sirius Black was the last I'd have thought. . . I mean, I remember him when he was a boy at Hogwarts. If you'd told me then what he was going to become, I'd have said you'd had too much mead."

"You don't know the half of it, Rosmerta." Fudge said, "The worst he did isn't widely known."

"The worst?" Madam Rosmerta asked, "Worse than murdering all those poor people, you mean?"

Well, duh, I thought but didn't say.

"I certainly do." Fudge said matter of factly.

"I can't believe that. What could possibly be worse?" Madam Rosmerta practically scoffed at the Minister.

Professor McGonagall said, "You say you remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta, Do you remember who his best friend was?"

"Naturally." And there was a small laugh from Madam Rosmerta. "Never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here- ooh, they used to make me laugh. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!"

Harry dropped his tankard with a loud thud. Ron kicked him under the table. I felt a jolt of shock shoot up my spine. I had known, of course, but it was so different hearing it from someone else's lips. Someone besides Dad anyways.

"Precisely." Professor McGonagall said. "Black and Potter. Ringleaders of their little gang. Both very bright of, course, exceptionally bright, in fact- but I don't think we've ever had such a pair of troublemakers-"

She was abruptly cut off as Hagrid chuckled and said, "I dunno, Fred and George Weasley could give 'em a run fer their money. Elizabeth could too as a matter of fact, the amount of times she goes into the forest." My lips twitched into a smile too and then dropped as quickly as it had come.

"You'd have thought Black and Potter were brothers! Inseparable!" Flitwick added.

"Of course they were." Fudge said. "Potter trusted Black beyond all his other friends. Nothing changed when they left school. Black was best man when James married Lily. Then they named him godfather to Harry. Harry has no idea, of course. You can imagine how the idea would torment him."

"Because Black turned out to be in league with You-Know-Who?" Madam Rosmerta whispered.

"Worse than that, m'dear. . ." Fudge dropped his voice and the four of us leaned to the side to hear better. "Not many people are aware that the Potters knew You-Know-Who was after them. Dumbledore, who was of course working tirelessly against You-Know-Who had a number of useful spies. One of them tipped him off, and he alerted James and Lily at once. . ."

Well, of course my parents had known Voldemort was after them. That was why Sirius was the only one who knew I was Harry's twin sister. That's why he knew where I was hidden- deep in the basement in my pink and white crib and pink backpack with all my necessities already packed.

Sirius was my godfather too. Sirius was innocent. I knew that. . . how did I prove it? My parents had protected me. . . and my mum had protected Harry too. . . and my dad. . . James, my dad. . . he'd protected all three of us.

I felt tears spring up in my eyes and I wiped them away. I listened back into the conversation.

". . .immensely complex spell involving the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside the chosen person, or Secret-Keeper," Professor Flitwick squeaked, sounding as though we might've been in the classroom. "and is henceforth impossible to find-unless, of course, the Secret-Keeper chooses to divulge it. As long as the Secret-Keeper refused to speak, You-Know-Who could search the village where Lily and James were staying for years and never find them, not even if he had his nose pressed against their sitting room window!"

"So Black was the Potter's Secret-Keeper?" Madam Rosmerta asked in a whisper.

"Naturally." Professor McGonagall said. She sounded like she had a stuffed nose. "James Potter told Dumbledore that Black would die rather than tell where they were, that Black was planning to go into hiding himself. . . and yet, Dumbledore remained worried. I remember him offering to be the Potter's Secret-Keeper himself."

"He suspected Black?" Madam Rosmerta gasped and quickly lowered her voice again.

"He was sure that somebody close to the Potters had been keeping You-Know-Who informed of their movements. Indeed, he had suspected for some time that someone on our side had turned traitor and was passing a lot of information to You-Know-Who." Professor McGonagall said. She seemed to know a lot about this. Then again, she was deputy headmistress. You didn't get there unless the headmaster greatly respected you.

"But James Potter insisted on using Black?"

"He did." Fudge intervened. "And then, barely a week after the Fidelius Charm had been performed-"

"Black betrayed them?" Madam Rosmerta barely breathed this question.

"He did indeed. Black was tired of his double-agent role, he was ready to declare his support openly for You-Know-Who, and he seems to have planned this for the moment of the Potters' death. But, as we all know, You-Know-Who met his downfall in little Harry Potter. Powers gone, horribly weakened, he fled. And this left Black in a very nasty position indeed. His master had fallen at the very moment when he, Black, had shown his true colors as a traitor. He had no choice but to run for it-"

"Filthy, stinkin' turncoat!" Hagrid said, a bit louder than the others. The bar went quiet for a moment and then started up again.

"Shh!" Professor McGonagall said in a strained voice.

"I met him!" Hagrid growled, though his voice was much lower. "I musta bin the last ter see him before he killed all them people! It was me what rescued Harry from Lily an' James house after they was killed! Jus' got him outta the ruins, poor little thing, with a great slash across his forehead, an' his parents dead. . . an' Sirius Black turns up, on that flyin' motorbike he used ter ride. Never occurred ter me what he was doin' there. I didn' know he'd bin Lily and Jame's Secret-Keeper. Thought he'd jus' heard the new o' You-Know-Who's attack an' come ter see what he could do. White an' shakin' he was. An' yeh know what I did? I COMFORTED THE MURDERIN' TRAITOR!" Hagrid suddenly roared.

The four of us, used to listening in as hard as possible, all jumped at the sudden volume change. This time however, the bar didn't pay any attention to this outburst.

I stopped listening. Hagrid hadn't been the last to see Sirius. I had. I couldn't remember it, though I could just barely remember a lit place, perhaps a café. I remembered other things as well, the smell of burning wood, and a soft voice in my ear- Sirius' voice. Then there'd been something bitter, the smell I registered with coffee. That must've been the lit place and why I was sure it was a café.

I couldn't remember much farther back, though there was a memory of baby Harry and me sitting around a Christmas tree. Dad and mums' faces were a bit blurry. A cat came and sat in my lap and I hit it with a wooden spoon from my new play cooking set. The cat rolled over onto its back and stretched. Mum scolded me. It wasn't much but it was my only memory I had of the four of us together. But Sirius wasn't in that one.

I focused on the conversation again.

Fudge was saying, ". . .the Potter's friends. Maddened by grief, no doubt, and knowing that Black had been the Potters' Secret-Keeper, he went after Black himself."

"Pettigrew. . . that fat little boy who was always tagging around after them at Hogwarts?" Madam Rosmerta asked.

"Hero-worshiped Black and Potter. Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I- how I regret that now. . ."

"There, now, Minerva," Fudge said kindly, "Pettigrew died a hero's death. Eyewitnesses- Muggles, of course, we wiped their memories later- told us how Pettigrew cornered Black. They say he was sobbing, 'Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?' And then he went for his wand. Well, of course, black was quicker. Blew Pettigrew to smithereens. . ."

Professor McGonagall blew her nose at that moment and it made me realize that she was softer than she acted. The last time she had cried it was because Harry, Ron, and I had asked to go see Hermione in the hospital wing last year. Or maybe she only cried once a year.

"Stupid boy. . . foolish boy. . . he was always hopeless at dueling. . . should have left it to the Ministry. . ." Professor McGonagall said.

"I tell yeh, if I'd got ter Black before little Pettigrew did, I wouldn't messed around with wands- I'd've ripped him limb-from-limb." Hagrid growled in a dangerous I'd never heard before. I shifted in my seat uncomfortably.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Hagrid. Nobody but trained Hit Wizards from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad would have stood a chance against Black once he was cornered. I was Junior Minister in the Department of Magical Catastrophes at the time, and I was one of the first on the scene after Black murdered all those people. I- I will never forget it. I still dream about it sometimes. A crater in the middle of the street, so deep it had cracked the sewer below. Bodies everywhere. Muggles screaming. And Black standing there laughing, with what was left of Pettigrew in front of him. . . a heap of bloodstained robes and a few- a few fragments-" Fudge said, at first sharply when addressing Hagrid, then softer as he described the rest.

It was funny really, I thought randomly, that Hagrid was sitting here so amiably when Fudge had put him in Azkaban last year. What was up with that? Had Hagrid really just forgiven Fudge like that? Or maybe I was the only person in the world who held a grudge against other people for their crimes against other people. I certainly would never forgive Fudge for that.

Five noses were blown after that. I glanced up. Ron's face was horrified. Hermione had tears in her eyes. I reached down, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. To my surprise, Harry reached up and grabbed it, squeezing it tightly. I felt a sort of vindictive pleasure rise up in me. My brother needed comfort! I was comforting him! Yes!

Fudge continued by saying, "Well, there you have it, Rosmerta. Black was taken away by twenty members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad and Pettigrew received the Order of Merlin, First Merlin, which I think was some comfort to his poor mother. Black's been in Azkaban ever since."

"Is it true he's mad, Minister?" Rosmerta said with a long, sad sigh.

"I wish I could say that he was." Fudge said slowly, perhaps even thoughtfully. "I certainly believe his master's defeat unhinged him for a while-"

No, I thought. He was unhinged (if he ever was) because he blamed himself for mum and dad's deaths. Because it was his idea of Pettigrew being the Secret-Keeper. That's what I knew now- I just had to prove it.

"-The murder of Pettigrew and all those Muggles was the action of a cornered and desperate man- cruel. . . pointless. Yet I met Black on my last inspection of Azkaban. You know, most of the prisoners in there sit muttering to themselves in the dark; there's no sense in them. . . but I was shocked at how normal Black seemed. He spoke quite rationally to me. It was unnerving. You'd have thought he was merely bored- asked if I'd finished with my newspaper, cool as you please, said he missed doing the crossword. Yes, I was astounded at how little effect the dementors seemed to be having on him- and he was one of the most heavily guarded in the place, you know. Dementors outside his door day and night."

"But what do you think he's broken out to do?" Madam Rosmerta asked. She seemed confused. "Good gracious, Minister, he isn't trying to rejoin You-Know-Who, is he?"

"I daresay that is his-er- eventual plan." Fudge said, a bit uncomfortably and I realized that he wasn't going to tell Madam Rosmerta that Black was 'after' Harry Potter. "But we hope to catch Black long before that. I must say, You-Know-Who alone and friendless is one thing. . . but give him back his most devoted servant, and I shudder to think how quickly he'll rise again. . ."

There was a small chink of glass on wood. Someone had set down their glass.

"You know, Cornelius," Professor McGonagall said after a very long silence. I realized my hand was tight with Harry's. "If you're dining with the headmaster, we'd better head back up to the castle."

One by one the chairs all screeched back and there was a sound like Madam Rosmerta was collecting glasses. Then the teachers had walked out of the pub and Madam Rosmerta went behind the bar.

"H-Harry?" Hermione whispered. Harry came up from under the table. His face was pale.

"Let's go." I said sharply. "Let's go. Now."

We left the pub. Harry wandered back to Honeydukes in a lost way.

I turned to Hermione and Ron, "I'll see you guys back at the castle."

They nodded, looking at little pale, and I followed Harry into Honeydukes, up into the cellar, and into the secret passageway.

He was silent for most of the trip and I finally said, "I know why."

He jerked and asked, "Know why what?"

"Why Hagrid and Mr. Weasley never told you the truth."

"And why is that?" He asked coolly.

"Well first of all, neither Mr. Weasley nor Hagrid knew the whole story. They just knew as much as you- we knew. That Black was after you and he was Voldemort's supporter. They didn't know any of the other stuff. And Fudge certainly wasn't going to tell you the whole story, you heard him at the pub, 'Harry has no idea, of course. You can imagine how the idea would torment him.' Fudge just sees you as a small, helpless boy."

"What about Dumbledore?" Harry asked.

I was silent for a moment, "He's the only one that I can say didn't have a good reason for not telling you. I suppose the reason would be he too thinks you're too young. Isn't that the reason he gave for not answering your questions after your fight with Quirrell?"

Harry was silent for the rest of the time and when we got out of the tunnel. When he got out he said, "I'm going to the common room, will I see you at dinner?"

"Maybe. If Fudge is eating here he might want to 'see' me. Maybe I'll go out to the forest and converse with the Centaurs to avoid him." I said with a shrug. It actually sounded like a really good idea.

Harry just nodded and then trudged off in the opposite direction. I stood there for a moment, unsure of where I wanted to go and what I wanted to do. I had heard the conversation three times now. I had seen it in a vision, Sirius had explained it to me in the forest months ago, and now I had just heard it at the pub. Yet, there was some sort of unexplainable shock that was going through me.

Finally, I made my way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. I listened at the door but I didn't hear anything. I opened the door tentatively and then, not seeing any students, I stepped inside and closed the door behind me.

I headed up the stairs to where the office was and knocked. "Come in." Dad said.

I opened the door and went inside. Dad looked up from his work and put his quill down, "What's wrong?" He asked automatically. Perhaps my face looked worse than I had thought.

I explained nearly everything that I had heard at the pub. Dad grew a little pale as he heard the conversation and then he shook his head at the end, "What a conversation to have in a public pub."

I laughed a little and then said, "I wasn't really shocked, I'd already seen the conversation beforehand but um. . ." I drifted off. "Did you know about this beforehand? All of it, I mean?"

"Yes." Dad said, picking his quill back up and making a mark on his papers.

I nodded and then sat down. There was silence except for the scratching of the quill on the paper. I looked out the window. Hagrid was walking to his hut.

"You have a nice view." I commented.

Dad chuckled and then sighed, "I have bad news."

I looked at him warily. "Yes?"

"I won't be able to spend Christmas day with you." Dad said, carefully circling something on the paper.

"I know." I said, though I still felt sad at the mention of it. "I memorize the dates every year. . . I have another question."

"Ask away."

"Why isn't my last name Lupin?"

Dad came a start, blotting the letters on the paper and looked up at me, a curious expression on his face. Then he smiled, "You know, I always wondered why you never asked that when you were younger." Then his smiled faded and said, "It was the wish of your parents for your last name to be Kane. Perhaps because there are no wizarding families with that name. Perhaps because if your last name had stayed Potter, well that's an obvious one. . . and if your last name had been Lupin, perhaps others would've made the connection and realized you were the adopted daughter of a werewolf."

I nodded, "Do you think I could get it legally changed to Lupin if I wanted to?"

Dad looked at me curiously, but his cheeks were flushed pink. He was pleased, I realized. "Only if you really, really wanted to."

I was silent for a moment. I couldn't think of anything else to say or ask so I stood and walked over to him and bent down and kissed his cheek.

"Love you dad."

"Love you too sweetheart."

I left the office and sighed as the door closed. If I wasn't married by the time I was eighteen (and of course, I wouldn't be because that was just. . . well that was just impossible) I would change my last name to Lupin. Until I got married, of course.

I smiled, walking down the stairs and then headed to the end of term banquet, unable to stop smiling at the pleasure on dad's face when I'd told him I wanted to change my name to his. 

⬅️➡️

[lowduckcap]

Carnitrix Rewrite

The Carnitrix is a stupid edge-lord fantasy on par with the likes of Jeff the Killer or The Batman Who Laughs. I will attempt to adjust.

Let’s start with the premise. Azmuth wasn’t a bitter old nihilist. He was annoyed that all anyone wanted to do with his brilliance was make weapons. So he secluded himself away.

Based on some of his old notes, certain hacks that wanted to be seen as greater than Azmuth created a prototype Omnitrix. But it was incomplete when Vilgax came for it and as such buggy. One such bug was an energy transfer issue. Think of it like it burns a lot of calories to transform.

Either way, the “carnitrix” was sent away to keep Vilgax from getting it. The story then goes through the expected path. The carnitrix falls on Earth. Ben Tennison finds it.

The first transformation was Heatblast. The energy exchange issue was resolved via HB becoming a heat vampire for a minute before going to a more expected type of HB. To elaborate, anything with heat had it taken from it. Ben only noticed this in regards to machinery IE cars and power lines.

Later on, Ben tried another transformation IE XLR8. This version was kind of a Flash “snack black hole.” Stealing from snack machines and so on. Nearly eats a squirrel, but stops himself.

In case you didn’t get it, this will be much more of a slow burn, but for the sake of space, I’ll skip forward a bit.

Ben doesn’t change unless there is enough food around and ends up needing to turn into Ripjaws. He eats fish as a cheat, but in a hungry frustrated rage he accidentally takes a bite out of Dr. Animo.

Moving forward again. In a battle where Hex tries to take control of Ben/Fourarms, Ben goes zombie and kills Hex, trying to fight his influence. The curse makes it worse.

Moving forward again. They called the Plumbers for help before, this time Ben is locked up. Difficult to control Ghostfreak and Wildmutt. GF evil. WM hungry.

Vilgax uses this to his advantage. Attacks the base. Ben switching through aliens with Vilgax using machinery to analyze the carnitrix. Too much to handle. Kevin 11 like fusion mutation escapes and eats Vilgax, drains his ship of power and reduce the stability of of materials around them ie ghostfreak + diamondhead. Goes on a zombie feast.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Thor: Part Four

Pairing: Loki x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: canon violence and angst

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Thor has retreated into the main room where the big feast was going to happen. There is a large dining room table that stretches along the length of the room with a ton of food waiting to feed a bunch of hungry mouths. Thor is so angry and frustrated that the only way he knows he might stow his anger is by flipping the large table over. You gasp, watching the food fly everywhere.

"Thor!" you gasp and rush over to him.

He stumbles backward and falls on the steps leading into the room, sighing deeply.

"He never sees things my way."

"I know you're hurt and angry, but dealing with it this way is not okay. I understand wanting revenge, okay? I really do. I spent at least a couple of hundred years wanting revenge for what Markus did to me... to my family. Trust me when I say this, revenge isn't the answer to everything. I agree they shouldn't get away with what they tried to do, but there is a better way to handle this. If you're going to be King, try looking at this through a protector's eyes, not a warrior's."

Your words go in through one ear and out the other. He isn't in the right mind to listen to you despite hearing what you're saying. Loki comes in shortly, and you just get up with a sigh.

"Maybe you'll have better luck," you sigh.

"It's unwise to be in my company right now, brother. This was to be my day of triumph," Thor sighs.

"It will come. In time."

Sif and the Warriors Three enter the room to see the mess Thor has created.

"What's this?!" Volstagg exclaims.

"If it's any consolation, I think you're right," Loki mutters to his brother, "about the Frost Giants, about Laufey, everything. If a few of them could penetrate the defenses of Asgard once, who's to say they won't try again? Next time with an army?"

"Yes! Exactly!" Thor exclaims.

"But there's nothing we can do without defying Father."

Thor considers this and looks at his hammer with a gleam in his eye. Loki can guess what he's thinking and he grows concerned. You know exactly what he's thinking as well, and if you want to avoid another war, you need to get the hell out of here.

"No... stop there! I know that look!" Loki exclaims.

"It's the only way to ensure the safety of our borders."

"It's madness!"

"Madness? What sort of madness!" Volstagg asks, eager when he hears the word.

"The safety of our Realm is no jest. We're going to Jotunheim."

"What?! This isn't like a journey to Earth where you summon a little lightning and thunder and the mortals worship you as a god," Fandral gasps. "This is Jotunheim."

"My father fought his way into Jotunheim, defeated their armies, and took their Casket! We'd just be looking for answers."

"It is forbidden!" Sif tries.

Thor knows he isn't going to convince his friends using his methods, so he switches tracks to something better.

"My friends, have you forgotten all that we've done together?" He turns to Fandral and Hogun with a smile. "Who brought you into the sweet embrace of the most exotic maidens in all of Yggdrasil?"

"You did," they both answer at the same time.

Thor turns to Volstagg next, and the other man stands proud and tall.

"Who led you into the most glorious of battles, and to delicacies so succulent, you thought you'd died and gone to Valhalla?"

"You did!"

Thor turns to Sif next who just raises a single eyebrow at him.

"Who proved wrong all who scoffed at the idea that a young maiden could be one of the fiercest warriors this Realm has ever known?"

"I did," she says confidently.

"True... but I supported you Sif." He then addresses all of his friends as a group. "My friends, we're going to Jotunheim."

"You know what? I'll pass," you chuckle, already slowly backing away. "I really should be going. I have overstayed my welcome."

"This is perfect! Come with us! A planet of ice should be no problem for someone who has ice powers."

"Elemental, but no thanks. I really shouldn't be in this fight. Odin hates me enough as it is."

"Y/N, this is a chance of a lifetime! I could really use someone like you on my team. Please."

You flit your eyes between Thor and Loki. He clearly doesn't want you to come along. That should be enough to steer you away from the fight, and when you open your mouth to say no, someone else entirely comes out of it.

"Fine."

Loki rolls his eyes, Thor cheers, and the other four individuals look indifferent. Why the hell did you say that when you don't want to?

Thor didn't want to waste any time getting to the Golden Observatory. Thor ordered a herd of horses for him and his friends to use, but you didn't need one when you could transform into one. While everyone has shiny black horses, you were stark white because out of all the horses you've seen on Earth, the pure white ones are rare and beautiful. Thor, Loki, Sif, and the Warrior's Three all head to the Observatory as quickly as they can, urging their horses to go faster. You're following behind them only because you don't know what Heimdall will do to you once he sees you. The last time you had an encounter with him, you blasted him away.

You've always thought Asgard was a beautiful place to live despite the big war that happened here. The golden city has a huge community of people who care for one another, working together in unison to make Asgard as best as it can be. The only thing more beautiful than the city itself is the Rainbow Bridge. It's how Asgardians can travel to and from the Nine Realms. It's wide and flat, and it runs straight out from Odin's palace to the mists and black void of space beyond. In the distance far ahead, the Bridge continues on until it reaches Heimdall's Observatory.

You and company draw near the Observatory where Heimdall himself stands at his post on the Bridge, blocking your way from entering with a curt look on his face. There is something other-worldly about him, even for this Realm. He holds a massive sword in front of him, and his stern, intimidating face is virtually concealed by armor. Something glints beneath his visor, like twinkling stars.

Everyone stops a few yards in front of him, and you transform yourself back into your human form, staying behind them. This is their fight; you have no reason to be here with them. Why the hell did you say yes? All you want to do is go back to Earth... maybe. Should you try and go home? What if Markus survived? What if he is still hunting you? What if he is on his way right now to take you back to Xenia? Some part of you is still scared of going back there, but you have to face up to your fears sooner or later.

Right now, it'll have to be later.

"Leave it to me," Loki says. He steps forward to address his friend, but his friend isn't having it. "Good Heimdall--"

"You're not dressed warmly enough."

You, Thor, Loki, and everyone else exchange glances. How would he know where you're headed?

"I'm sorry?"

"The freezing cold of Jotunheim. It will kill you all in time, even Thor."

"It won't kill me," you speak up. "I've handled colder."

"You think you all can deceive me?"

"You must be mistaken. We're not--"

"Enough," Thor interrupts. "Heimdall, may we pass?"

"For ages, I have guarded Asgard and kept it safe from those who would do it harm. In all that time, never has an enemy slipped by my watch--until this day. I wish to know how that happened."

"Then tell no one where we've gone until we've returned."

Thor walks past Heimdall, and the Gatekeeper allows everyone to pass. Volstagg passes Loki who is frustrated. You're not sure what is going on with Loki or if he's always been this way.

"What happened? Your silver tongue turn to lead?" Volstagg jokes.

He and Fandral laugh as they head inside the Observatory. You and Loki stop by Heimdall's side, and you turn to the Gatekeeper apologetically.

"I'm very sorry about what happened before. I didn't mean any harm."

"All is forgiven," he nods.

Loki still seems very frustrated, so you pat him on the shoulder in a friendly way. He snaps his head to you, but you're already walking away from him. He doesn't know why you would show him any kindness when all he's ever done to you is give you pain... Well, that's a conversation for a different day. There is a platform in the middle of the Observatory where Heimdall takes his place.

"Be warned. I will honor my sworn oath to protect this Realm as its Gatekeeper. If your return threatens the safety of Asgard, the Bifrost will remain closed to you. You'll be left to die in the cold wastes of Jotunheim," Heimdall warns.

You want to say you won't die, but you resist. You'll protect your team if they need it... and you have a feeling they will.

"Couldn't you just leave the bridge open for us?" Volstagg asks.

"To keep this bridge open would unleash the full power of the Bifrost and destroy Jotunheim with you upon it."

"That, I won't survive," you state plainly.

"I have no plans to die today," Thor says.

"None do."

Heimdall inserts his sword into the control panel, and the apparatus of the Observatory starts up. The Bifrost energy quickens along the Bridge, feeding into the Observatory. Heimdall turns his sword in the control panel, and the Observatory's giant turret swings around, aiming toward a section of space. As a final step, Heimdall plunges his sword deeper into the control panel, which then fires a rainbow light of Bifrost energy into the vast area of space. Apparently, this is your ride. Everyone steps up to the light, and you stand next to Loki, mesmerized by the colors. 

Thor goes first followed by his four friends. You and Loki are last, but Loki doesn't want to stay here for much longer, so he jumps into the Bifrost which leaves only you. You look back at Heimdall before silently entering the portal. To say it's a trippy experience is an understatement. You've never been through the Bifrost before except for the time that actually got you here. You didn't notice it before because you were so freaked by the fact that you were sick into a portal to a world you never thought you would be back on.

This time, you do notice it. 

As soon as you step through the portal, your body is stretched towards the maelstrom, changing shape as if every atom of your body is being elongated by the pull of it. In an instant, you're jerked off the platform and inside the vortex. Before you know it, you're on Jotunheim.

A hole in the sky rips open, and the Bifrost comes shooting out of it. Snow flurries up when the Bifrost hits, as you and the gang touch down on the icy planet. You've never been to this planet, but you've heard horror stories about it. Runes from the Bifrost are imprinted on the ice around you once you land. This plant is isolated, dark, and icy. Nothing about Jotunheim suggests that this was ever a welcoming place. The entire planet's surface is covered in a massive flattened ring of jagged ice, slowly breaking apart.

The ruins of a Jotun city lie in the distance.

"We shouldn't be here," Hogun says.

"Let's move."

Thor leads the group further into the center of the planet. It's very cold here, no doubt, but not everyone here has the ability to control their body temperatures—or any temperatures for that matter. Sir and the Warrior's Three aren't wearing appropriate attire for the journey, so you decide to help them out just a little. The best thing about being an elemental is that you can help others without even touching them.

This time, you do.

You approach Sif first and touch her shoulder. She jumps from the initial shock of it, but she calms once she knows who you are. You use your pyrokinesis to warm up her body temperature, keeping her comfortable for the journey inland. She gives you a friendly smile for your consideration, and you move to the three men. You touch each of their shoulders, grinning when you hear their sighs of relief from not being cold anymore.

Thor seems like he's doing fine, so you just skip him altogether. You begin to approach Loki, but he snaps his head over to you in a hateful glare. You honestly don't know what his problem is, but you're not going to let his sour mood dictate how you feel. As you said, you can control one's core temperature without so much as a touch. Without blinking, you heat up his core temperature to the same temperature you gave to the others.

You don't want to give him the satisfaction of another glare, so you walk right past him with a smirk planted on your face. You make sure he sees it, and you have a feeling he did.

x

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[works-of-magic]

(@hearthome-habitant) Uh... hey there. I know we haven't interacted before, but I don't know who else to ask this.

You seem to know a lot about Murkrow... do you mind going into more detail about how to care for them?

...Also, if want to share some knowledge about Ghost types, I'd appreciate it. There's a bunch native to Lost Tower, and I want to be prepared to both face and care for one.

Hello! That's alright, I may live in the middle of Eterna Forest, but I don't mind being asked questions! Even as obsessed as I was with ghosts, I always loved flying types too, and Murkrow captured my heart early on.

They're omnivores in the wild, so while I've never known one to turn up their nose at a berry feast, it shouldn't be all they eat! If you choose to feed them kibble, something high-energy with plenty of protein is ideal. Like most Flying types, they have a fast metabolism, and I suspect their habit of cooking up mischief takes extra energy, heh!

They're also just very active in general. Whenever they're out of their ball they like to be Doing Something, whether it's exploring or enrichment activities like puzzle feeders or teasing their trainer and team.

It might take a little patience to bond with them, they can be pretty aloof at first. But they respond well to being engaged together! Battling, playing, conspiring, even eating together sometimes. My first Murkrow bonded with my ghosts through making mischief together. They may be dark types, but they're still highly social creatures!

Battling with a Murkrow in my experience works best if you can leverage their speed and hard-hitting tactics. They can also work strategically, they're smart enough to keep up. They can't take hits as well as they can dish it out though, so it might be a good idea to work on their endurance.

And facing the ghosts in the Lost Tower… I went there before I officially started my journey. It was my first time meeting a ghost type in person! They don't have to be super powerful to get what they need (or play how they want) there, so you can focus on strategizing and overcoming their tricks.

The cool thing about dark types is that they generally keep their confidence up even when ghosts use tactics that can frustrate and scare other types. Going invisible, creating an eerie atmosphere, inducing confusion… It's really neat to watch actually!

The ghosts of Sinnoh don't have much in the way of physical strength, so what you're probably going to see is a lot of tricks and misdirection and maybe an attempt to scare you off rather than a full-frontal assault. Ghosts in general defend themselves mostly by playing the psychological field! Their whole strategy is usually "try not to get hit in the first place", because they typically can't take hits very well.

You can definitely use it against them. Murkrow can learn Haze, which is really useful for revealing their tricks! Feint Attack is also stellar against ghosts, because they can lock onto the ghost even when they're hiding and still hit them, and it leverages both Murkrow's power and the ghost's weak defenses.

So I know that was a lot of information. I hope it wasn't overwhelming, and I hope it helps! Best of luck on your journey, by the way, and I would recommend maybe bringing some cleanse tags along, just in case the ghosts turn out to be particularly active that day. Happy travels!

[doomdays]

shauna isn't exactly holding onto hope either.   it's hard to be an optimist in these conditions,  it's easier to focus on what they can do here instead.   and maybe she can't admit it to jackie,  but her purpose here does offer her some sort of freedom,  despite feeling like they're trapped.   she's never been the girl that people look to for anything,   and now,  it's her they wait on as prey returns,  ready to be feasted.   it might feel like they're rotting away out here,   slowly fading out of existence ---  but there are some moments when shauna feels more alive than ever,  when there's a knife in her hand and blood coating her fingers,  because there's some kind of power in it.  power that she doesn't think jackie could understand,  and if she tried to explain it,  would jackie just resent her for it more?

her head falls to the side and she glares back at jackie,  but there's a hint of sympathy in her eyes.   ❝  no one thinks you're an idiot,  ❞   she insists.   but she can see how frustrated everyone is with her,   she can see that they're all waiting on jackie to do her part,  find her own purpose here  ---  and jackie doesn't seem to be keeping up.  there is something strangely satisfying about it all for shauna:   knowing that,  maybe for the first time in their lives,   shauna gets to be more valuable than jackie,   a thought laced with misplaced resentment over the years of their friendship that's certainly not fair here and now,  but for shauna,  it makes her want to lean into it,  be the one to guide jackie this time around.   ❝  and---  nobody is comfortable giving up,  okay?   we're all just  .  .  .   dealing,  because we have to.   for however long it has to be,  this is our life now.  you just have to be willing to adapt.  ❞     

and it's not lost on her -- how,  despite finding comfort in her own purpose and value out here,  she's likely talking a bigger game than she feels,  just as desperate to be somewhere safe  ---  but not necessarily back at home,  where she was cold in jackie's shadow,  especially after finally feeling the sun out here. 

shauna rolls her eyes,  her head falling back with annoyance,   now more defensive than ever.   ❝  it's not that---  i like it,  or anything.  nobody likes this.  ❞    she likes the feeling it gives her,   but those words are reserved only for her journal,   the only place her head can put these thoughts into words that won't have jackie sticking her nose up in disgust.   ❝  it's just something to do.   it's not like the dead cabin guy kept a bunch of board games around,  ❞   she mumbles,  as if that comparison is even valid.   

❝  okay,  nobody's turning on you,  ❞   she mumbles,  instinctively following her  (  hardly ever realizing how natural that is.  )   they're just not as willing to worship her as they once did ---  and that's not even entirely true,  but from shauna's eyes,  that's how it always felt.  everyone here is just more realistic  about what's happening,  and that perfect image of jackie  (  at least the one created in shauna's mind  )  is fading.  ❝   and definitely not me.  ❞    she ignores the bitter resentment she holds,  features softening as she reaches out her hand to place against jackie's arm.   ❝  i'm never going to give up on you.  i'm just trying to help,  jackie.   ❞  

BACK HOME she may not have noticed it, that unbidden, reflexive response to jackie's emphatic insistence they get back home. may as well be complaining to mari for all the sympathy she gets. where her shauna might have taken a beat, set aside her frustration in lieu of comfort, a true best friend. 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙸𝚂 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝚂𝙷𝙰𝚄𝙽𝙰. which only becomes more obvious each day. the wilderness' shauna seems closer to strangling her than anything close to comfort. in fact, she sometimes looks at jackie as if she's a complete stranger, or a ghost. right now? ( i'm sure my face says the same. ) the fissures of their secrets, lies, & jealousy have split into cavernous fractures since their plane hit the dirt. it's only a matter of time before they crumble.

❝ no, shauna. as much as everyone here is convinced that i'm an idiot, I'M NOT WAITING ON SOME MIRACLE. i just think we could all be a little bit less comfortable with the idea of giving up. ❞

any of the girls still claiming they're waiting for rescue are lying to themselves. the domesticity of their new 𝚌𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚜 makes her sick to her stomach. bile churning at such easy acquiescence to their circumstance. how the hell can they expect to make any progress if they're only focused on this place? & THE ONE PERSON SHE EXPECTED TO BE ON HER SIDE would rather play butcher than have her back. ❝ no? well neither is skinning bunny rabbits but you seem to be enjoying yourself well enough. ❞ familiarity in the venomous lash of her tongue —

𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚓𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚎. 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍.

meanwhile, they'd probably be better off if she had just bit it when they first crash landed. ❝ sure, shauna. an awesome story about how my entire team turned on me, including my best friend. ❞ huffing it back to her wet clothes WITHOUT WAITING FOR A REPLY, she starts to lay them out beneath the sun. she isn't good at anything out here, so how is she supposed to help? to chip in or whatever?

[cellophaine]

Can I request smut where matt is so sensitive and a moaning mess and the reader is giving him the blow job of his life

Cruel

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Warnings: Smut. Sexual content involving: oral (male receiving).

Author's Note: Mhm, so ... yes. Merry Christmas.

GIF Credit

At this moment, standing out in the midst of his muddled mind was one thought. Clear and simple.

Matt hated you ...

... no, he didn't. He just wished he didn't love you so much that he would do anything you ever asked of him, and that included him being tied to the bed with his legs spread, making room for you to nestle in between while you worked him up, only allow him to tethered so close the edge as if this torment on him was pure entertainment to you.

Every fibre of his being burned at the mere thought of you, of the intense pleasure you drew upon his body. Matt didn't know how long he had been in this position. He had lost the concept of time after the third (or the fourth?) time he almost came with his cock in your mouth. You brought him to the edge over and over again, only to pull back in time, denying him of the euphoric release. Matt felt like he could cry from the frustration and the prolonged pleasure, with blood rushing to his head and groin, making his mind haywire from the sensory overload.

His cock was painfully hard and heavy in your hand. Every fleeting touch and teasing lick only build up the hypersensitivity in his head. He felt everything you did to him. Blood ran hot underneath the too-warm skin that felt like it didn't belong to him. Matt was floating somewhere in between, with only you acting as an anchor to ground him with your unceasing movement on his aching cock. It was too much, physically and mentally, but you hadn't relented despite all the begging poured from his lips. The silk restraints on his wrists and ankles created delicious friction and tightened on his heated skin with every move he made, and it drove him mad when he was too sensitive and entirely helpless. That last part startled Matt, the thought of him being under your mercy and loving it.

He loved it when you took what you wanted from him, loved it when he was only putty in your hands, and you could shape him however you wished.

If you wanted him to be your toy tonight, then that was what he would be.

You revelled in the feast in front of you, reducing Matt to nothing more than a whimpering, needy mess. Your tongue traced the veins on his cock, studying their pattern like they were Bible verses. The bulbous head of his cock was red and hard, glinting with your saliva and a new drop of precum, which you eagerly cleaned up with another swipe of your tongue.

Matt cried out loud as you licked his sensitive head; the unadulterated sound bounced off the thin walls of his apartment. He had abandoned care for his fellow neighbours two denied orgasms ago.

What you couldn't fit in your mouth, you made up with your hand. The slightest squeeze made his hip jerk up into your touch from the mattress, only to be pushed down with your arms.

You started to build your speed up again; your head bobbed up and down the length of him. Your moans travelled down his cock, drawing a deep groan from Matt's chest. The lewd sounds you made while sucking him off grew louder and unrestrained, spurring him onto the edge; his chest heaved hard, his mouth fell open as he could hear every single wet squelch your mouth made between his legs. The airy scent of your arousal was evident on the tip of his tongue, in his hound-like nose, and Matt would give anything for a taste. The thought of you getting off on edging him on top of everything else that was going on made Matt couldn't think straight.

It didn't take much for Matt to feel that familiar pull of another approaching high. His faint pleading of please, please let me come echoed in your ears, and you increased the momentum on his throbbing cock. You went deeper until the blunt head of his shaft touched the back of your throat, your tongue flattened along the smooth length. You gagged around his cock, feeling him pulsating in your mouth. His back arched off the bed; his hips searched for the long-awaited release in your mouth. With the skilled strokes of your hands and sultry laps of your tongue moving in tandem, Matt felt the relief as his high was so close. He deserved it.

Matt closed his eyes, shutting out the fiery vision as the intense pleasure built and built...

... only for it to wilt and dissipate as you withdrew, leaving him high and dry. He whined out loud at the loss of contact, the sound pitiable, drenched with neediness. His body sagged due to exhaustion, sweat gathered at his brows and forehead, forming a slick sheen on his body. Even though he couldn't see it, no one could see it; Matt felt like you had marked your claim on the smooth skin of his cock. He was yours to use.

He could register the sound of rapid footsteps hitting the pavement on the street below from early risers. Had it been all night?

The mattress dipped around his worn-out body. Matt could feel the warmth of your body on top of him, and the closeness did little to clear the murkiness in his head. He shivered nevertheless as he felt the slickness that settled over the tip of his cock. Goosebumps ghosted along his skin as you dipped your head, whispering in his ear.

"Think you can last a little longer, Matthew?"

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[wroteclassicaly]

May I Taste Your Sin

(Michael Langdon x Female Reader)

Pairings : Michael Langdon x Female Reader

Warnings : Language, smut, blood, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, blood play, & period sex.

A/N : This fic has been a loooong time coming! I’m sorry it’s taken me this long, but now that I have inspo I wanted get this out for y’all! The warnings are obviously self-explanatory, so skip this if you don’t like the contents it’s gonna contain! Michael Langdon eats human hearts, and he’s a demon, before anyone starts to fuss over this, lol. I’m sure menstrual cycles with his partner would be a dessert to him!

Enjoy! This one is pretty intense, so I’m nervous about it! I also have more installments with different characters coming in the next few days! :)

Check out where I first posted the teaser for this fic, and check out these period sex headcanons I wrote for Michael!

~*~

He keeps staring at you. You try to move about, do your tasks, even attempt conversation with people you’d tried so hard to avoid these past several years. Your abilities to function like the human being that you are, seemingly vanish whenever the tall honey blond is within your exhausted proximities. You aren’t sure if you’d like to let out the loudest echoing scream and see where it ends up in this place, or let your wildest carnal urges guide your hormones into a literal sticky situation. Or, at the very least, let yourself fantasize about seducing him in your own self-created version of reality.

You’ll have to settle on the latter, unfortunately. Pocketing the cream colored dish rag, you place the last row of finely printed novels on the book shelve. Your fingertips linger, attempting to find a portal through their leather cover tops. Your tongue slicks your parched lips, neck stretching to crack out the tension. You aren’t trying to do anything but stealing some relaxation, when a largely hot hand is pressing a knot-out in a knead on your shoulder - clasping, settling a risky purchase.

You don’t have to make an educated guess to know whose hand that belongs to. He practically spews out his control and ownership of this place every chance that he gets. Biting down a venomous sigh, you coerce yourself into a turn around - gathering an eyeful of Langdon’s fancy black vest. That’s not good enough for the King, apparently, as he fits his pointer finger underneath your chin in a tuck, thumb pressing against your jaw to tilt your gaze to his own.

“Did you forget your manners, Miss Y/L/N?”

The way his shining eyes are sizing your attention, captivating your unwillingness to comply to how Langdon makes you feel - it can’t be humanly possible, can it? There’s that possessive ache that begs you to launch ownership over him and his entire body. Why is everything so widely dramatic whenever he’s around? Is he just full of himself or is it something way more than you’re aware? A crackling parch winds its pathway around your throat, sealing your breath in.

Nothing comes from between your lips. You’re frozen solid, legs a weightless press. Each touch this... man brings upon your body is like a bass thump - pumping you towards his secretive rhythm. All you can do is sway with the beat. Langdon smirks coyly, his other hand resting behind his back in an idle grace.

Neither of you dare utter a word. However, Langdon is seemingly content in making you squirm and you try to focus on everything but his perfectly crafted jawline, and how eagerly you’d suck on it if asked. You swear you can hear your heartbeat galloping off, so strong that it can tear your heart right out of your chest along with it. His colorful eyes glance over you in a brief stamping sweep, lingering at your sore breasts and your waistline.

What is he even doing...?

“Excuse me, but Ms. Venable did not authorize any private conferences with the help.” A cold and steel - grasped voice chills your bones down, dusting your cheeks with a reddening humiliation.

You haven’t even so much as spoken to Langdon, yet it feels like you two have been clawing and scratching at each other all over this fucking outpost, riding one another until you can’t fathom walking upright. You still can’t speak, but Langdon takes care of that for you.

“Interesting, and did Ms. Venable give you permission to waltz in here when you weren’t requested or required, just to give a meaningless order?” Langdon is mildly amused in his question, his hand still paused on your chin, thumb now swiping in a tickling drop with his fingertip - along your jaw.

Ms. Mead looks comical in her brief attempt at forming a snappy comeback, only to go silent in defeat. You take this tension as your escape line - quickly edging from the sacred confines Langdon has built for you two, and you all but run out the door. You’re clutching your shirt collar, punching a two pounce path up the staircase and to the help’s quarters.

Chores now, panic later.

~*~

Five minutes. Five fucking minutes in this place that you’ve served without question, complaint, for nearly two years - is all you want. But as the heavy handed rasps of Mead’s knuckle bones beat on your bathroom door, you know that is a simple pipe dream. Her low voice is harsh with you, making your headache unfold into a full blown migraine. You shift uncomfortably, knees knocking together, thighs sore against the cool porcelain seat below you.

Langdon must’ve massively pissed her off... Good.

Your palms collect purchase to your cradle your face, your eyes glistening with tears, throat burning with frustration. It hurts too much to stand upright this time. Normally women would lose this in stressful situations. Add the apocalypse and barely eating, you’d peg it normal to receive nothing. However, your predicament is much worse, fucking you over once more.

Your body welcomes Mother Nature each month. Unpredictable, yet there. Heavy, excruciating. You could list on and on reasons that don’t amount to much. You’re stuck with a part of you that won’t ever come to fruition.

Not in your former life, especially not in this one. Another reminder that carries an award winning irony. Sighing, you peer down at the red dish rag you were given. Literally on the rag, what a joyous harmony. The elites of course, are given the tampons and pads.

You have to use scraps of fabric you’re forced to wash in the bathtub if you move too fast or sneeze. And on your heavy days when you haven’t the time to stop your duties to wash and air out the towels, things are much harder. At least before the apocalypse you had chocolate, feminine products, a warm shower to take your time in, movies to curl up with, and a place of your own to cry where no one could hear you. You sniffle, hormones locking down your heart.

Most recently the outpost had welcomed the cooperative leader Langdon. He had interviewed everyone but you, uninterested, only flustering you a few times. Him being here just makes your period a more unwelcome storm. This morning as you were passing him on the landing of the staircase, delivering the bath towels to elite rooms, he stared at you. Right into you, nostrils flaring, tongue rolling out to slick his plump lips, blue eyes darkening.

Then there was this afternoon. How could I forget...?

The encounters were over quicker than they took place. Still, his acknowledgment of you didn’t bring your interview, nor did it promise your application for the sanctuary he preaches about. Forcing your tears to bank, you stand with your dress skirt and apron held up, staring at the stained rag in your panties. You turn and flush the toilet, eating back around to the shock of your fucking life. There, just feet in the from the doorway, is Langdon in all his glory.

It makes you swallow harshly, stomach drawing off the butterflies that have grown claws. You feel winded. His ring covered fingers bring an object to your sights. A thinly wrapped stick. You don’t answer, you don’t move, you don’t protest him approaching until he’s directly in front of you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You try, a mere whisper betraying your bravery.

“Helping you,” He answers simply, a heated slide crossing his mouth. You can practically taste him, damn near swaying forward.

You start to snap back into your senses, ready to cover your remembered modesty back up. He grasps your wrist, a hungry look soft in his features. “Will you let me?”

You’re shaking, body on fire at him touching you, you try to keep your legs from clenching, that want. You know what will occur if you let yourself. He is gentle with you, admiration clear. Why? You don’t understand this.

“You’re bleeding, I know.”

Jaw unhinged, you stand upright, his fingers still ghosting your skin. An unlucky movement on your part, the warmth spills from you and you look down between your thighs in horror at the red lines running down your legs, pattering against the floor. Langdon is breathing heavily, practically panting, stunning you once more. His other hand grips your cheek, thumb swiping your lip, eyes not breaking contact from yours.

“Do you know how good your cunt smells? Every pathetic person in this outpost is starving and you have the best meal between your fucking legs.”

When your silence stretches on, Michael nudges forward, careful with you. “May I feast?”

It’s all too much to handle. Having him talk to you, you speaking to him. And now this? How? You begin to grow dizzy, hands trembling as you try to pull your clothing back up. Langdon’s hands grip your wrists.

“Please don’t do that.”

You want to stun him incredulously, backhand him. None of that is happening, not even the urge. Instead, your want for him is magnifying beyond any feigned ignorance. Your tongue slides out across your lips, teeth biting down on your bottom lip in a brisk chew. Langdon hooks his middle finger between your teeth, releasing your lip and combing the blood across in a coppery gloss.

Your chest is startled, rising and falling in quivering quakes, ears hearing a static rush. Everything inside of you is alive and crying out in need to be sated. Langdon grips you around the waist, lowering his forehead to rest atop your own, his middle finger - still doused in your blood - slithers past his own lips, which close in a sticky suckle. A vibrating moan pummels his throat, causing a constricting swallow that showcases his Adam’s apple.

If I could only just lick that...

Langdon is sly and devilishly cunning to a fault - fast in his next movements. He presses a designer boot down over your skirts, successfully preventing them from being made up. “Leave them here for someone else.”

“I... I can’t. This is too much, Langdon —“ He chuckles at the formality.

“Since I can see your womanhood running from between your legs, I suppose it’s only fair that we skip some formalities, don’t you agree, Y/N?” Your eyes are probably wider than necessary - a cartoon like sight. He’s used your full name in an authoritative command, leaving no room for question. “And you may call me Michael.”

It’s all a little more frantic from this point. He gives the slightest of information, and you see your skirts and panties gliding across the floor in a winded push. Michael brings that wrapped item back into your eye-line. “We won’t be needing this for a while.”

“I didn’t say yes.” You try, swallowing a weak, whimpering stifle.

“But you didn’t say no, did you?” That shit eating grin. He has you and he is all too aware - elated to the brimming brimstone of hellfire you’re about to bestow upon yourself.

Your insides melt into the trenches of red hot, raw ravishment. Michael drops his left arm down, hand palming his hardening cock through black slacks, eyes encouraging you in a chained bind. “Let’s go and make a mess in my room.”

Now or never. No more of this, back to reality, maybe some place better. You’re spinning in a foiling encasement, precipice wide and open - hungry to pull you under. And you dive in, you let it all go. Michael looks satisfied, sharing something with himself that you don’t know... yet.

Taking Michael Langdon’s hand, you’re led into the unknown.

~*~

Langdon leads you down his own separate corridor, your free hand scolded for trying to hold yourself over your uniform.

“I want you to make a mess.” Michael says.

You hope that you’re not the one who will be paying the cost for your own said mess, or cleaning it up. If it’s up to Venable - you’ll be licking it, all the way to her high heeled boots.

Once inside the confines of Michael Langdon’s bedroom, you take the time to look around, enjoying the perks this situation is bringing. The room isn’t any different than what the purple elites get here, it is bordering on a more... lived in feel, which is ironic when you consider that Langdon hasn’t been here like everyone else has for the past three years.

Guess he’s just more comfortable? He does look like an English vampire half the time..

On that note, a particularly harsh cramp antagonizes your uterus, causing you to clench your abdomen, choking out a acidic slice. “Fucking demonic cramps.”

Michael - now clad in his all black ensemble, minus the overcoat - chortles, knotting his fingers together behind his back and strolls forward, wetting his lips as the firelight crackles a sparking soundtrack. “It’s ironic how you refer to it as “demonic”, when Satan really has nothing to do with this. I mean, it’s not on him that humanity failed their pitiful guidelines for sobering temptation. Wasn’t it your lord and savior that bestowed this curse upon you?” He finishes, giving a head tilt to your unhinged stun.

“Are you religious?” Is all you can come up with.

Michael sneers, looking slightly offended. It fades seconds later. “Depends on your definition of religious, and then there is what one believes in. But I guess you can say that I’m devoted to... a certain cause.”

“Were you this mysterious before the apocalypse, or is that why the cooperative gave you the job?” You try, a discomfort crackling at your inner thighs.

They’re probably smeared... And not just with blood.

“I bet you’re uncomfortable.” Michael teases, snapping his fingers at the fireplace. Did your eyes betray you, or did the flames flicker?

You want to give a snappy comeback, but it feels unwise. You nod like the sap that you are, nails biting your palms. Your heartbeat has begun to accelerate, a visible sight beneath your apron. Langdon guides himself to step in front of you, leather shoes drumming across the floor beneath. Every sound in this forsaken room is flowing through your eardrums - Michael’s scent on the tip of your tongue.

You need him. More than your body has to have the air that filters underneath this mausoleum. You’re so unsteady, eyes brimming with the smoking arousal, blocking common sense. Michael catches you as you collide with his chest, wrapping your fists into his vest. His blue irises are disappearing to a canyon of night sky - lavish black so sinful that it steals the breath from your lungs.

Drizzling off your tongue is a hesitation. “Won’t we get into trouble...? Venable -“ Those rough fingertips hold a softness that hushes your lips, denting.

“Can watch me with my face buried into your cunt. The humiliation will arouse her.” Michael answers in his own finish.

You aren’t sure why, but that grates your mouth into a sneaky grin, shared with Michael’s, sensing that slapping throb at his phrases. He pinches your chin, nuzzling your head to the side, his lips sloping a map across your neck. His towering physique backs you by knocking his knees into your thighs, delivering you to the edge of his bed. You drop like wild weights, looking towards the ceiling, trying to take a deep inhalation. Langdon crouches, pants rustling as they tighten around his temptingly thick thighs.

He tuts in a scold, chiding you furthermore. “You will watch what I’m getting ready to do to you! Is that clear, Y/N?”

You don’t answer fast enough, Michael’s hand wrapping around your throat, eyes burning hellfire through you - dusting your bones to ash. Your throat is wet with the clingy, unshed tears. Fuck, you have to be filled up until you’re hollowed out. Michael is languid in grace, hand toppling into your lap, joining his other.

“Take down your hair, Y/N.”

Like a puppet, you obey your new owner. Unwrapping the pointed bun, you shake your locks free, sighing in an eased tickle.

“What a good and obedient girl that you are. Those who obey, shall reap the riches.”

“Why are you doing this?” An ignorant question on your part.

“Because,” As if it’s the most simple answer in this broken world, Michael let’s his hands start to unbutton his vest, carelessly sending it, his attention not wavering off you in the slightest. “I’m hungry.”

A literal moan comes from you, making Langdon hiss through his through his milky white teeth. He resumes his former position, hovering.

“Spread.” Michael says, a quaint wonder adorning him, his palms sliding up and down your legs to feel you part them. The blood is mixing some fucked out potion with your creamy arousal for him, and he knows it, has it right into your tremble from the exposure.

Your skin is steaming in scrapes, responding so vulgarly to Michael, that he is hooking his wrists under your knees, bouncing the flesh into his awaiting hands, and claiming. He hoists your legs over his shoulders to arch you to his idea of perfection. You should be protesting, in a shambled shyness. That is gone, no place here. Michael let’s his nose rest in the crease of your thigh, crudely sniffing like some beast.

His sopping tongue finds a striking stroke along your ruby red, damp thigh.

Closer... He’s getting closer...

When you can’t feel that warm and snide air he possesses, you lock to load a question. Michael is shedding himself of his remaining clothing in a cocky crawl. His hair curtains his face as he sees you seek out his cock - thick and heavy, weighted and wet with pre-cum.

“Finish taking off your clothing.” You’ve never done something so fast in your years alive.

You have to admit, being so vulnerable like this - naked and bleeding, it has you buzzing.

Michael outstretches a veined forearm, the back of his rings swirling in desiring dances across your breasts. “Do these hurt?”

Your lashes are slicked in perspiring tears, the tired soreness harassing your chest. He has his truth. His trim form bows to you once more, placing your legs back where they belong. He knuckles a pressing push into your abdomen. “Bear down.”

It isn’t an accident this time, it’s not a discreet secrecy. Michael wants you this way. All of you. Finding a confidence, you give yourself a high and sink your fingers into his hair, toes tickling his shoulder blades in a forwarding nudge, doubling down on your muscles. That warmth spills out of you and Langdon takes you, tongue parting your swollen folds. He regulates his tongue in wet paints, licking and sucking everything you give him.

“Please—“ You’re already begging. It’s so fucking intense and intimate that you can’t formulate your own damned name.

“Are you really going to ask, or would you just like to feel good?” Michael vibrates, his mouth visible and shining crimson as he seeks you out between your slippery thighs.

It’s outright feral. His irises are coal black, blue lost in some combing canyon that’s crumbled around sin. His digits prod at your sensitive opening, being accepted moments later. His lips close over your clit, tongue slithering back and forth to assist his beckoning fingers. He gathers more from you - his purpose.

That quenched fold starts to seize you early on, your pattering breaths signaling the orgasm that is about to tear the screams from your fucking diaphragm. Michael’s hand smacks and rolls your swollen breast - permission granted. That’s all it takes and you’re falling back onto the mattress, back arching in a lined drag, pussy flattening against his mouth. He jerks you impossibly closer, your vision whiting out into dark spots. You tangle your fingers further into his luscious strands, holding, pulling.

In the midst of close recovery, Michael is plowing you with a short lived let down, his mouth leaving your pussy. You can’t complain, no time available, as his hips slot in a frazzled fit between your legs. His pelvis is tense, sheathed in sweat. His chest smashes your breasts, his hand reaching down to guide his cock inside you. You can’t speak, but cling tightly to his back. He growls a sound that you’ll never forget, the fire bursting behind him, flames licking the rocked cove that houses them.

His mouth is covered in your essence, your cunt bathing his dick with each violent thrust. It’s pouring in drenches, salty perspiration, pooling blood - both of you losing yourselves in the mess. Michael props himself up, digging into a dipping slam, meeting your mouth in an ending kiss. His hair tickles your shoulders, nose nudges your now blood caked mouth, and he gives the warning.

“Spill your fucking curse all over me!” And you come undone, glued to him in puzzled entrapment.

Your thighs are wrecked, his bedsheets useless, and then there’s Michael, who forces you to look at him and really see him. There’s only black in his eyes. You sputter a disbelief, bracing. His mouth parts, tongue flicks across to gather more, leveling off into his jagged movements. He swells inside your cunt, dousing your walls in his warm cum.

He doesn’t leave you, not even when it’s over. He simply takes you with him. You aren’t sure where you get the courage to speak - body shaking and shivering.

“What... Michael, who are you?”

He cups a hand over your cunt, rolling onto his side, keeping you held to him. He lightly blows away a pesky lock of your hair, then maneuvers another behind your ear.

“I’m the man who’s going to save your wretched existence.”

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