#i measured it and it would be perfect for my short ass

[torialefay]

"you've never had someone be this good to you before?"

perv!changbin x fem!reader

✨ synopsis: changbin couldn't help but to offer his services when he found out that the object of his obsessive thoughts had never been properly taken care of.

✨ word count: ~3.2k

✨ warnings: perv changbin, orgasm control, oral (fem receiving); minors DNI 🔞

✨ note: you can pop over to my masterlist & scroll toward the bottom to find the smut request info & prompts. i would love to receive some prompts that aren't strictly fem!reader (but ofc those are welcome too) <3

• you'd been friends for well over a year, yes. so how could you not have known that this entire time, changbin had been watching you?

• it had started as innocent, really. simply watching the way you walked and how your hips moved side to side with each step. he watched the way your shorts would ride up your thighs every time you sat down. he noticed the way your eyes got so big for him each time you raised your head to look up.

• and slowly, it started to drive him crazy.

• in his head, it was only natural- inevitable really. there was no harm in giving you a little bit of extra attention. nothing wrong with that.

• but before he knew it, he was going to lengths he'd never dreamed.

• friendly banter turned into more extreme measures, like him pulling you into his lap. "playfully" of course, and *not* because of the rush he got knowing that your pussy had just been resting so close to him... only thin fabric separating the two of you.

• although he would never admit it to anyone, he'd secretly taken photos of you. any time you were sitting in your chair, legs wrapped behind the chair legs, which made your ass stick out perfectly in his view. any time your top was low-cut enough to make out the lines between your breasts. any time you were innocently sucking up your drink, licking your lollipop, or licking your lips. he always had his camera at the ready, meticulous in making sure the flash had been turned off. he'd never blow his cover so carelessly.

• he'd "accidentally" drop things next to you just so he could bend down close to you and savor the sight as he came back up. your legs... they looked so soft. he wondered if a day would ever come that you would let him touch them... willingly.

• he'd even go as far as to say something spilled in the seat you were about to go to, so he could lay his jacket down for you to sit on and collect your scent for later.

• when he could finally be alone at the end of the day, he'd make sure he had all of his prized possessions out before he got to work on himself. the photos of you pulled up on his phone. his jacket held up to his face so he could take it in as he began to furiously pump his cock. and before he knew it, he was busting everywhere- his body overwhelmed, begging, and wholly giving in to the thought of you.

• but he didn't think that he'd ever be able to *actually* act on his urges... that is, until you'd messaged him one night that you needed help with something. moving some furniture or something like that- he didn't take the time to read much of the text past "hey, is there any chance you'd be able to come over-." that's all he needed to spring up and out the door.

• after taking care of what you needed, he'd hung around on the couch for a chat. he listened to all of your stories. he admired the amount of information that you entrusted to him. and for you, all of this felt like de-stressing in the most natural way.

• after talking vulnerably about past relationships (at this point, you weren't even aware how you'd gotten to this level of comfort), changbin had managed to squeeze out of you a more intimate conversation- one in which you told him you'd never actually been properly eaten out before.

• his brain couldn't comprehend it. someone as... perfect as you? with those few words, he lost it. all inhibition had left his body now that he'd gotten you to this point.

• "i could, ya know? if you want to of course," he said, his heart leaping inside his chest. he was high off of the adrenaline.

• "what?" you almost laughed in both embarrassment and disbelief. changbin was your friend, nothing more. why would he even joke about something like that?... well, unless he wasn't.

• "i said i could eat you out. show you it can feel good... if you want." his voice remain firm and steady.

• "where is this coming from?" you asked, your mind full of confusion.

• "nowhere, i-" he cleared his throat, now the wobbliness beginning to catch up with him. "nowhere. i just never would have thought that you hadn't, uhh.. had that before. i'm sorry if i made you feel weird," he mumbled in a rush, beginning to stand up.

• "no changbin, it's okay!" you held your hand out, motioning for him to stay. "i just... wasn't expecting that i guess? you've been such a good friend to me, i never thought..." your train of thought ran off. "i mean i'm just surprised is all. i don't want this to come between us. a spur-of-the-moment thing," you voiced nervously. you still weren't sure of the situation, so why were you saying this?

• "spur of the moment?" he chuckled, shaking his head with a smile. "you don't know how badly i've wanted you? you've had no clue this whole time?"

• "no..." your voice went shaky. "you never said anything." you looked down, not sure what to do.

• "what should i have said? that i've thought about fucking you every day for months on end? that i've spent my days doing everything i can to get closer to you... to want you so badly to the point that i cannot physically stand it? and to get anything possible from you because it turns me on? is that what i should have said?"

• you were taken aback. "get anything possible? what do you mean?"

• "nothing," he huffed defensively. you could tell that he was trying to calm himself down. you didn't think he meant to scare you. "just drop it. please. i shouldn't have said anything in the first place... but now here we are."

• "but..." you started, taking a moment to collect the words in your head. "but what if i do want it?" you looked up at him with nervous but hopeful eyes.

• changbin could feel his pulse begin to heighten. "say the word then, and i'll show you." he tried his best to contain the smile that so badly wanted to spread across his face.

• turns out, you didn't need to say anything. you put on a shy grin as you nodded your head, signaling your readiness. within a second, changbin was springing up, eager to finally turn his fantasies into reality.

• "okay, we can go slow if you want?" he half-smirked, looking down at you now. he'd never seen a more perfect sight.

• "yeah, i think that'd be good," you said, still a bit shy. you weren't quite sure where to go from here, so you gladly let him take the lead.

• "turn this way for me," he instructed, holding his hand out for you to grab onto. you took it, and he pulled slightly towards himself, helping you to rotate so that your body was now turned toward the front of the couch.

• changbin followed up with a satisfied smile at how well you were listening to him. just like his fantasies.

• "can i?" he asked, running his hand down gently to rest at the waist band of your shorts.

• you nodded, nibbling at your lips in anticipation.

• gently, changbin lowered himself to begin removing your shorts. slowly but with smooth hands, he removed your legs, one by one. he was careful with watching you- he'd studied your face far too well to miss out on any changing expressions he could coax out.

• throwing your shorts to the side, he sank to his knees so that he was now almost eye level with your pussy. suddenly, you felt exposed. intimidated. suddenly not quite sure how you'd gotten here.

• you closed your thighs together tightly, the red embarrassment evident on your face.

• "here, don't be shy," changbin said, sensing your hesitancy. he softly placed each hand on the inside of either thigh, applying slight pressure to move them apart. although you were fighting through the nerves, his gentleness washed over you with a much needed calming sensation.

• you let out a deep breath, not sure how long you'd been holding it in. you wiggled yourself a bit, trying to adjust to the newness of the situation as you settled into your position.

• changbin smiled up at you in return, his eyes endearing yet full of excitement. a sense of fulfillment had his brain clouded over.

• he wasted no time in running one hand up until it found the heat of your clothed core. you could tell that his hand was slightly shaking in his bout of disbelief, no matter how hard he was trying to cover it up.

• you shuddered a bit at the feeling of his thumb lightly grazing you, making momentary contact with your clit. it sent a bolt down your spine from a feeling that you'd been missing for far too long.

• changbin started slowly, rubbing up and down, then left and right, then in small, dredgingly slow circles trying to figure out what you liked.

• and if you were being honest, at this point, even you didn't know what you liked. no one had ever touched you like this before- so softly, so tenderly. every movement felt like it was the best sensation you'd ever experienced.

• changbin tried unsuccessfully to jerk his smile down while looking at the sight of you beginning to grind your hips down onto his fingers. you were silently begging him for even more contact. seeing you like this... it was better than he could have ever imagined.

• "let's take these off?" changbin whispered, pulling slightly at the hem of your underwear.

• you nodded, your mind coming out of its haze. you tilted your head just enough to watch as changbin slid them down with ease. almost as if he'd trained to do this all so perfectly... for you.

• the look on his face when he finally came in contact with your core, now entirely unclothed, was something you would never forget. his jaw dropped a bit, as if he couldn't believe what was in front of him. but following, barely a moment after, was a face full of determination. determination for what?... well you hoped you knew the answer.

• changbin again decided to rest his hands on the insides of your thighs so that he could spread you open as wide as possible. he wanted to see all of you. have access to every last inch. he was going to do this right.

• "you have to tell me what feels good, okay?" he cooed, looking up from in between your legs.

• you gave a bashful nod in response, signaling that you understood.

• carefully, changbin brought his fingers back to you, letting you get used to the feeling of his contact without moving. once he could tell that your tension was gone, he slowly started to rub up and down, one inch at a time. the fact that you were so wet for him almost made a gasp fall from his mouth. but it didn't. he wouldn't let it. he was going to have to fight the urge for now, not wanting you to feel overwhelmed by him so quickly. he wanted to savor every second he'd get with you.

• almost painfully slow, he continued to let his fingers slide along, getting you more and more worked up with each movement.

• it wasn't until he was completely sure that you were ready when he moved to land over your clit, which had been throbbing by this point. he remained calm, drawing gentle and slow circles around you to gage your reaction. as you strain out an inhaled breath, he knew he was right where he needed to be.

• he brought his face down to your core, mentally preparing to hold himself back. he didn't know how you'd respond, but he knew this was his only chance. he placed a few soft kisses on your inner thigh, acclimating you to his mouth. the kisses grew lighter and lower as he picked your leg up, kissing down to your knees as he went. he settled with resting your leg over his shoulder, granting him better access to you.

• just like the first time, he positioned his face at the opposite thigh, taking his time with soft pecks and temptingly letting his teeth graze your skin. he calmly lifted your leg to position it in parallel to the other, effectively caging himself in.

• you took a deep breath as you felt his tongue on your core, licking its way up. he didn't take much time before finding your clit and proceeding to roll his tongue up and down, trying to gage your reaction.

• as you gradually let yourself relax, you leaned into the feeling that he was providing you. you focused solely on his movements and how each of them made you tingle in a different way.

• you almost lost your breath entirely as he began sucking in, making the wildest noises and moaning on the spot once he heard you let out a tiny whine yourself. the tingles that were being sent into your thighs was proof enough that you'd never experienced something that felt like... well, this before.

• your heart skipped a beat each time he nipped at you in your most sensitive spot. slowly, you were burning for him. you wanted to scream out- to beg to him to do it again. over and over. but at the same time, you didn't know how you'd be able to bear it.

• but changbin knew you well. a small smirk crept across his face as he realized what he'd done to you. it only made him want to work harder to please you. to make you understand exactly what he's been working for for all of these months.

• "mmm, feels good?" he hummed into you, sending shock waves that only added to the feeling.

• "ye- yes," you strained out, trying to hold back.

• "you like it when i eat you out, huh?" he pulled off just long enough to give you a short smirk. something about his tone almost caused you to convulse on the spot. you were fighting back the urge to throw your knees together entirely.

• "yes," you whined now, grinding down onto his tongue as you went. you wanted so badly to let go.

• "mmm, are you gonna cum for me?" his voice rang out, darker now.

• you reflexively bucked your hips. this was exactly what you needed to spiral. you felt your toes begin to tingle, preparing to lose yourself.

• "yes, -fuck!" you arched a bit, feeling a particularly sharp jolt. "fuck, i'm gonna cum, i'm gonna cum-"

• "no you're not," he stated, fixated on your pussy with his lips still attached. "need you to keep going. cum when i tell you to."

• your eyes shot open. no? what did he mean no? you knew you weren't going to be able to hold it back. this was a side of changbin you'd never seen before.

• as the sensation built, a tear started to build up in the corner of your eye. this was too good. too too good. your legs were beginning to shake already. this was getting to be too much.

• as changbin's eyes came up to connect with yours, you were sure you were gone. you quickly threw one hand down to his hair, pushing his face further into you, while the other hand gripped tightly to the blanket next to you. you watched the tiny smirk in his gaze as you threw yourself down onto him.

• "please, please," you moaned, louder than you'd intended. "please, i'm gonna cum. i have- have to."

• "mmm? you've never had someone be this good to you before?" was all that he responded with, sending the vibrations along with it.

• "please," you cried. "please, i-- OH FUCK," you yelled one last time.

• the joints in your hand began to ache, giving in to the pressure put on it from bunching into the cushions around you.

• this was it. whatever he said, you weren't going to be able to hold it off any more. this was all you could take.

• noticing your shift, changbin smiled. "you can cum now, princess." his tongue returned once more to your clit, holding his lips taut to you. "cum on me right now," he ordered.

• finally, you were able to relish in the quick bolts that were shooting up from the bottoms of your feet and into your core.

• you couldn't stop yourself from yelling out, sending changbin into doing the same

• moans sang out in choirs, each hitting its note precisely as instructed. your hips moved accordingly, trying to ride out your full high, but trembling in the process.

• this was bliss. pure and utter euphoria like you'd never experienced before. in a jolt of a moment, your neck shivered, feeling a tingle working it's way up your spine. and before you knew it, your brain caught up to the feeling, blanking out and turning to static.

• your body reflexively arched, losing control of itself entirely. it was now a slave to the feeling that changbin was giving you. your body reacted to him like he was the only man in the world. and maybe now, to you, he was.

• fighting to finally throw yourself off of him, you wanted to cry. you never knew it could feel this good- so all consuming, so deep. to feel totally and completely taken care of.

• it was then, in your shaking, quivering state that you realized that a few tears had actually been spilled out. you took deep breaths, wiping your eyes as quickly as you could.

• as your mind slowly started to return, you couldn't believe what you'd just experienced. your body was spent. your brain was spent. you didn't know what you could possibly say or do at this point. it's as if you weren't even in the world.

• changbin snaked himself up slowly, wrapping his arms around yours in an attempt to sooth you. "was it okay?" he asked, the tiniest bit of pride in his voice.

• you couldn't help but to laugh in response. "yeah," you blinked as you sniffled. "yeah, i think it was okay."

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✨ i promise y'all, one day i will figure out which formatting i like the best & then i will stick to it. i have problems 😭

[whorediaries-09]

I’ve been thinking alotttt about rivals! Remy where him and r have been hooking up but the r starts gaining feelings for rem and distants herself but rem is just like “what the hell?” And then they like admit their feelings when rem corners her one day curious😩

i'm sorry this took so long, but i hope you like this!!

friends;

pairing- remus lupin x reader warning(s)- cigarettes, alludes to sex, hurt/comfort. (let me know if i should add more) a/n- academic rivals to lovers is so precious to me you don't understand.

little train

' girl, I'm not with it, I'm way too far gone i'm not ready, eyes heavy now,'

'i can't believe i've to work with your pathetic ass,' he rolled his eyes, running his fingers through his hair. your eyes wandered over to the burn marks on them, probably from all the joints he smoked. you could hear his friends laughing behind his back. even peter, the quietest and the most tolerable of the lot, was laughing. you scowled, tilting your head to meet his eyes,

'i don't remember you saying that last night. you said i've a perfect ass. maybe you have a problem of short term memory loss?' in an instant, you saw his cheeks reddening and eyes widening comically when he registered your words. his hand slapped upon your mouth, trying to shut you up.

he received a flying paper ball on his head. he turned his head around to find sirius waving his index finger at him

'not in class, moony.' he said, as peter tried not to laugh. he was measuring the ingredients written on the blackboard.

'hello my lovely students!' slughorn's overly cheery voice rang throughout the classroom. the class sang him a dull good morning. it was winter after all, most of the students wanted nothing but to snuggle up in bed within the folds of their cozy blankets drinking hot chocolate. the only energetic person was sirius, and he sang,

'good morning sluggy!' slughorn knitted his eyebrows together at the nickname but didn't say anything.

'good morning, mr. black. i see you've preferred to follow the rules for once and sit on the desk assigned to you.' sirius shrugged his shoulders, batting his eyelashes.

'you and i, we're the best matchmakers, mr. slughorn. we're a team,' what he meant, the saints knew. perhaps that would be taking a step too far, because by the slight smirk on slughorn's face, he knew what sirius meant.

'mr. black, i prefer the student and professor dynamics between us better,' he replied, scratching his eyebrow with his fingernail. sirius groaned mockingly.

'okay class, settle down. we're making amortentia today.' raising your hand, you questioned,

'the love potion?'

'yes, exactly the love potion. of course no magic is as powerful to be able to imitate real love. however, it does create a powerful infatuation, with the person who gave it to the drinker. the scent varies based on what the person likes. it's a very complicated potion to make, but anyone who makes the perf-'

his speech was interrupted by a famished lily evans who was as red as her hair and a grinning james potter. her tie was loose, dangling off her collar and his hair was ruffled. lily's usually nicely ironed uniform was full of wrinkles.

'oh wow! head boy and head girl late to class!' slughorn scowled. by the look on his face, however, he was regretting his choice to let the ever infatuated james potter and the stubborn lily evans sit together.

'just sit down the both of you!' he scolded and they entered the classroom, lily's bag almost spilling parchment and ink bottles. slughorn coughed and continued,

'so as i was saying, who ever makes the perfect love potion gets-' he put his hand into his pocket, pulling out a little bottle full of a clear liquid. '-this. can anyone tell me what this is?'

'felix felicis.' sirius said. further words conversation wasn't recorded by your mind when remus bent down, whispering in your ear,

'do you think they hooked up?' you eyes widened as you looked at him. your eyes unconsciously travelled down to his chapped lips. the taste still remained on your tongue.

'do you like- actually think before speaking? james potter and lily evans hooking up! lily would rather die, he hates the guy.' remus shrugged his shoulder, a small smirk on his lips.

'i mean, look at us, we hate each other but the other day you wouldn't let me stop eating you out-'

'oh please shut up! just get the fucking ingredients!' he smiled, as you try to hide your face with you hair, suddenly very intrigued by your book.

'okay madam,' he said, mock saluting.

*-

after a lot of banter and distractions you ended up with a potion which only looked seconds away from an explosion. there was certainly no 'mother of pearl' sheen or any rising steam in a characteristic spiral. even pearl dust couldn't save the disaster of a potion.

'oh god why did i have to work with you!' you gripped your hair with your fingers, almost pulling them off as you sat down on the chair, chewing on your lip.

'my grades will go down!' you snapped. he turned around, a wince on his face.

'so will mine. this shit is team work and if your grades go down, so will mine.' he stated. you rolled your eyes as he sat down beside you, his palm on your shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze.

'i shouldn't be comforting my academic rival but guess if you low, i go lower.' your ears perked up at the term. 'academic rival.' he didn't even consider you a friend. that's all you were to him, an academic rival, a benchmark to cross, a quick fuck when he was tired. you gulped slowly. suddenly, your throat felt very dry. you stared into his eyes, trying to decipher something, but trust god to give remus lupin the most dead eyes known to mankind.

'ohhh! we have a winner!' slughorn's voice pulled you from your thoughts. your head snapped to the source of commotion, expecting to find lily to be the winner- but it was sirius.

'mr. black, this felix felicis is yours,' he threw a charming grin to all the flushed young ladies and lads as his fingers wrapped around the little bottle. most of the girls and boys almost swooned at his antics, and some could be found a few seconds from fainting when he winked.

'get it padfoot!' james cheered. lily disapprovingly hit james' head with her book. james scowled.

'i want everybody to come and tell me what they smell in here. let's start with mr. black,' he smiled, staring at the eager faces of the young ladies and lads who surrounded him as if he was a trophy.

'i smell petrol, rain and my favorite tea. i can also smell..uh cherry flavored shampoo, and my cologne.' it was nothing very interesting. neither of them used cherry shampoo. and it wasn't just a flying rumor that sirius black rode a motorcycle.

'ah, good, good.' slughorn praised, patting his back. his eyes wandered about in the room before they stopped at your direction.

'okay yes, now you,' he said, instructing you to smell the potion. internally you called him an old cow. externally you smiled, a little more than actually required, and too fake to be a real smile. no comments were passed when you walked up to the front of the classroom, smelling the potion.

'ah- so i smell parchment, ink, coffee, vanilla....cigarettes and dark chocolate.' you stumbled upon your words when you found remus looking at you intently. you tried to ignore the burning gaze and how the blood rushed into your cheeks. slughorn coughed slightly,

'okay, now next student!' he clapped his hands together, trying to cut through the sudden tension in the room. you moved away from the smoking cauldron, walking towards your chair. sitting down, you pondered.

cigarettes? damn you, you hated cigarettes! you'd been reluctant to try one for the first time, but trust remus to roll you the perfect blunt and manipulate you to try it in the best way possible. you remembered coughing up the smoke onto his face.

dark chocolate? sure you enjoyed it here and there but it wasn't certainly something you loved. you wanted to rip out your hair.

the realization had been lingering upon your head from the last few weeks, but you didn't want to act upon it. a lot of people mistake lust for love. you were a teenager high on hormones, hooking up with remus lupin, your biggest academic rival- of course you were bound to mistake lust for life.

perhaps the heated kisses within the shadows of dark nights, the way his hands lingered upon your body, making you feel alive as he touched you down to your core, the heat crawling under your skin, dizzying your mind, the way he begged to touch you, to feel you meant more than just lust. perhaps it was closeted love. but it didn't mean good news. having a crush was fine, but falling for remus john lupin was bad news. it meant heartbreak, a new rumor for the nosy students of hogwarts.

so you did the best thing that came in your mind to maintain your feelings and keep your heart in control. it wouldn't be very effective, considering remus was your partner in potions for the year, but you'd try your best. no hooking up, just necessary conversations. all you had to do was ignore him. the less you saw him, the better.

*-

remus looked up to your face, his sweaty strands of hair sticking onto his forehead. his calloused hands gripped your waist as he thrust his hips upwards. you bent down, brushing his lips against yours. you held down his hands, pinning them above his head. he tried to crane his neck to kiss your lips, but you didn't allow him holding his hands tighter.

slowly, torturously slow you started rotating your hips. he arched his back, moaning your name, his fingers trying to grasp the fabric of the head board.

'god, you feel so fucking good,' he moaned. you smirked, your tongue swiping over your teeth.

'i know,'

suddenly, his face started to distort, and he started laughing at you. weird, that is not how you remembered that night. he was jerking you, before everything went hazy and your vision started blackening and you saw a tunnel of light. you tried to grasp onto the light, escaping the booming sound of his laughter.

it was a fucking dream. you rubbed your eyes, pushing your face into the pillow, silencing your scream, so as to not wake up the others. you hated how pathetic it made you feel. how did it happen?

within the spills of ink on parchment paper and a constant comparison, how could have your feelings changed like this. perhaps you thought of him too much. you were supposed to ignore him. in the typical sense you were, but your mind or heart wasn't ready to go.

you were standing on the edge of a fucking knife, wondering if remus lupin even considered you to be a friend. you hated yourself for falling for him. it wasn't supposed to be more than sex, a quick relief from the constant shambles of your lives, yet here you were, in the middle of the night thinking of the one you were supposed to hate.

slipping your feet into the cozy bunny slippers, you grabbed your thickest jumper. you couldn't sleep, so you might as well take a walk. james and lily were on duty, but you were sure they weren't being as responsible as they were supposed to be.

*-

it was cold. the snow that settled on the grounds was thick and milky white. the cold wind bit your skin, prickling it with goosebumps. you felt a lump in your throat thicken, and your eyes burn. you felt your heart drop. you blamed yourself for the situation you were in. it was your fault, utterly. you weren't supposed to fall for him.

even the stars couldn't calm you down with their serene rays. you dropped your head into your palms, letting the tears fall down your cheeks, sobbing silently.

'talking a walk alone at night now are we?' a voice quietly creeped up behind your back. you wiped your cheeks quickly, mentally preparing yourself to being caught by a prefect and getting your house points deducted. when you turned around, however, you were met with the amber eyes of the one you'd been thinking about. your tongue was tied in knots as you watched him drop james' invisibility cloak on the floor and walk towards you. you backed away, until your back hit the wall and there was nowhere to go.

'r-remus-' he raised an eyebrow, capturing you against the wall, his hand pressed against the wall. he leaned down, his finger crawling under your jaw and tilting your head to meet his burning amber like gaze.

'have you been crying?' he asked. you stared at him, tongue twisted in knots. but you knew it was no use lying to him. he could read you like a book.

'yes,' you nodded. he tilted an eyebrow.

'why?'

'why does it fucking matter remus? leave me alone- i'm not even your fucking friend.'

'then what are we? you've been ignoring me for the past few days, and now you're running away when i've finally got you alone.'

'nice try, lupin. you don't give a shit, so just let me go.'

'oh so you're going to decide whether i give a shit about you or not? what if i tell you i do?'

'you won't mean it.'

'i will. i've never lied to you,' he said. there was a bitter sadness in his eyes. you could see the darkness in his gaze, and even if he naturally had dead eyes, you could see a tiny ray of warmth in his gaze.

'please.' he said, letting you go. 'just tell me what's wrong. tell me what i've done. tell me how i can fix it. just...please don't ignore me.' he begged. slowly gulping, you pondered whether it was the correct moment to speak out your heart. perhaps it wasn't, but he could right through the lies. and while you had a lot of explanations hidden in your head, you could only whisper one line,

'i'm in love with you, remus,' he stared at you intently, letting your words hang before he could act upon them. you expected screaming, cussing...laughter. you didn't expect a soft gaze as he smiled at you. he slipped his finger under you jaw, tilting your head.

'i don't think you ignore the one's you're in love with,' you screwed your eyes shut, biting your lip. the blood warmly travelled to your cheeks,

'you don't feel the same, i was scared.'

'and how exactly do you know that?' you opened your eyes, to find him staring at you in utter glee.

'i've been yours before you touched me. all it took was spilled ink on my essay, sweetheart.'

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[soleilnewspaper]

Broken promises

Series masterlist

Summary: Regulus reminds you of a promise you made to him in childhood and how you have broken it. You return from a weekend trip to find Remus in the hospital wing. Sirius knows he can’t hide Remus’s condition for you any longer.

Pairing: platonic Regulus x fem!reader, poly!wolfstar x fem!reader

Warnings: Angst, fighting with friends, feeling inadequate, cliffhanger, talks of blood and bruises (from the full moon)

Word count: 1.9k

AN: I’m terribly ill and doc ordered me to say in bed, so sleep and write is all I have done today lol. Sorry it’s a little short. Thank you for your time :)

December 24th, 1970

Number 12 Grimmauld Place, North West of London, hidden from the eyes of muggles. The Black family took pride in the fact that they were hosting the Yule Eve dinner party. They were Pureblood royalty after all.

The house was decorated in festive decorations for the upcoming Yule celebrations custom of the sacred 28 society. The food alone could surely feed an entire orphanage.

A young Regulus, at a mere nine years old yet dressed far better than most adults. The scratchy material of his dress robes had been bothering him from the moment his mother had forced him into them. His black locs were combed back with magical gel to ensure he remained perfect for the night.

Clasped his small hand, you ran along with him. The frills from your pink dress made it difficult to much. It overwhelmed your body. You thought you looked like a large ball of cotton candy. Which your mother had scolded you for even thinking such a thing.

Trails of pristine white ribbons once worn in your hair now lay tossed on the freshly polished floors of the manor. Your house elf had been ordered by your mother to ‘tame’ your hair earlier that night. Hours of work had been in vain as your locs had bounced back only moments ago. Sliver jewerly adorned your neck sparkling in the candle lit hallway.

Kreacher had turned a blind eye to your ‘escape’ from the dinner. Neither of your mothers had noticed your absence yet. Something which both Regulus and you were beyond grateful for. Merlin knows what your punishment would be for daring to participate in such childish behaviour. For, being a pureblood meant you never were a child. You were simply an investment.

Regulus was the spare, the second choice, a precautionary measure that his parents had taken should Sirius prove to not be eligible. You, on the other hand, were born a girl. Which meant you were to be married off the moment you were of legal age. Although you had heard the stories of girls who had been forced to marry long before that. Your potential husband would be most likely related to you in some way.

Your mother would often gossip about how the Black Family ‘kept things in the family’ in reference to how cousins married each other frequently. However, truth be told, all pureblood were related in some way or other. Pureblood had been facing excitation for centuries. In order to keep their lines ‘pure’ they needed to dip their toes into the pool of incest. The sacred 28 all crossed over if you were to look close enough. Which is why you thought your mother to be a hypocrite.

Regulus pulled you into a nock in the attic. Whilst you were still in a fit of giggles.

“My lady.” Regulus pretended to bow, taking an old feathered hat on and then off his head.

“Why thank you, kind sir.” You responded through a set of giggles. Giving him a curtse in return, just as your mother had taught you.

Regulus took your hand and guided you to sit down with him on the floor, placing his suit jacket down to avoid you getting your dress dirty. You picked up the ends of your dress to try make it easier on you to sit down. A proof sound was heard the second you touched the floor. As you quite literally fell on your ass from the sheer size of the dress. Your mother was a beautiful woman but her style was eccentric to say the least. She had dressed your sister and brother in a similar fashion, both of who were being good children and still in the dining hall.

“Will you consider promising me something, Y/N?” The boy’s language was far better than most adults you knew. Pureblood society doing of course. You were both already fluent in Latin and Greek while Regulus knew French as well. It being his family’s main language after all.

“Whatever do you mean, Reggie?” You asked in the same tone. Frowning your small brows in confusion.

“Would it be to much to ask, if you could promise to be mine forever.” His statement confused you at first causing him to explain further. “We both know our mothers will marry us off one of these days, but please choose me, your friend first.”

“As long as you promise to choose me always and forever.” You smiled back at him.

“Best friends before lovers?” Regulus asked you unsure of himself.

“I would rather have live a life with no love, than live one without you as my friend.” You took ahold of his hand gently.

“I do not wish to condemn you to a love of loneliness, Y/N.” He dropped his hand from yours, fearing he was asking you too much with your friendship.

“Reggie, with you by my side, I could never be lonely.” That had earned you a smile from him, a one larger than you had ever seen before.

Present time

Regulus Arcturus Black would never be your lover. No, your bond proceeded that of romantic expectations. Your bond would always be platonic, but it would be the deepest bond you would ever have. For your souls wore bind together in no way a lover could understand. Even if it was a childish desire to ask for your loyalty forever. To chose him over everyone else in the world. You knew, that in truth, there was only one person he had asked you to never choose over him. His brother. Which is exactly what you had done. The one thing he had begged of you all those years ago, you had done without hesitation. Breaking his trust doesn’t even cover the cost your newfound relationship had taken to your oldest one.

He was not angry nor was he upset with you. Regulus felt hurt, betrayed even. In all his life, he had lived with the expectation that he would always be second best. Only this past summer had his parents began to pay attention to him after Sirius had left home. Officially disowning their eldest, made Regulus their heir. He was only valued once Sirius was gone. For once in his life, people had began to look at him instead. It had been a long time coming, since the moment Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor. The light slowly began to shift to the younger brother. Yet, never completely, not until now. Within the span of a few weeks he had become the star of the family. A fact which had only served to make him bitter because he knew the care of his family was conditional. For they had hardly offered him a look before he was proved to be their last hope of salvation.

The worse part was Sirius believed Regulus was the first choice. When in fact he had never been someone’s first choice in anything. That is excluding you. Regulus had always been your first choice. It was something which he had come to held dearly in the span of his fifteen years of life.

Despite being a few months younger than Sirius, and almost a whole year older than Regulus. You had chosen to be his friend. As children, your mother urged you to make connection with Sirius, but you never did. Regulus was who you chose to spend your time with. Up until Hogwarts neither one of you had any real friends besides each other. Barty did not run in the same circles as the two of you before Hogwarts. The rosier twins didn’t form a friendship with you until Regulus’s first year at Hogwarts which had been their first too.

He had only asked one thing of you, and you could not give him that. You now understood his anger. Yet you still felt defensive as you were in a vulnerable state.

“You do not get to held a childish promise over my head!” You yelled, your voice reaching across the common room.

“It is not about the promise, Y/N.” Regulus stated with lips pulled into a thin unreadable expression.

“Then what is it about, Regulus?” Anger severed through your throat as you spoke.

“Rage does not consume me for the mere fact of your entanglement in a romantic relationship. As one of your closest friends, I comprehend that it is beyond my jurisdiction to dictate the auspices under which you choose to allocate your precious hours. Yet, I implored solely that you not date my own brother.” Regulus paced around the room, his hand running through hair multiple times before he turned to face you directly.

“For it is your preference that leans towards him, and no longer me. He is accustomed to being selected first and foremost in all things. I am not. Barty, Evan, Pandora and you were mine; untill you chose me over me. The one thing you promised, swore, you would never do.” Regulus voice no longer held anger, it was filled with hurt. He pointed a a finger towards your chest to further his point. Breathless as he spoke.

“Reg…” You moved towards him but he flinched away from your touch. “My relationship with him does not change the friendship I have with you.”

“Liar.”

“You say that, yet you continue to be with him. To chose him.” Regulus walked away from you but you followed without hesitation.

“You are being over dramatic.”

“Am I, so am I to just discard the only person who truly understands me. In order to allow you to satisfy your desires.” Regulus used the boot of his shoe to kick the table lightly.

“You do not mean that.” Tears were beginning to form in your eyes.

“What other choice have you given me?” Regulus breathed out barely forming words.

“I never intended to lose you, Reg.”

“Oh, well then everything is sorted. Is it not. Far be it that I have feelings and reactions to your actions.”

“Please, stop, I beg of you.” Your voice was pleading with him now.

“Would you do one decency?”

“Anything.”

“Tell me why did it have to be him.” You heard the crack in his voice as he spoke. Arms at his side and legs planted on the floor.

You squeezed your eyes shut at his question. Knowing whatever your answer would only serve to hurt him further.

“I fell for him. I tried not to. Believe me I did, but I cannot ignore my feelings anymore. Please forgive me.”

“Forgiveness does not come easy, Y/N.” Regulus eyes roared with anger, but you knew there still lay hurt behind them. “But I don’t want to lose you.”

“Does that mean…” The steps you took towards him were careful and precise to not spook him with your actions.

“I would could never live without your friendship. It pains me so, but I know I have to forgive you, but do not ask me to forgive him.”

Tears pooled in your eyes as the words left his cold lips. Before another moment could pass, you wrapped your arms around his torso. To your surprise he accepted your affection. He had never been one to allow affectionate gestures, it simply was not his way of expressing himself. Yet, in the rare moments when he allowed himself to let another in, his warmth would be unlimited.

“Can I assume I have my best friend back?” Your voice was muffled by Regulus’ green Qudditch jersey.

He pulled away from the hug but kept physical contact with you by placing both of his hands on your sides.

“You never lost me.”

Sounds of students began to fill the common room as they returned from the pitch and great hall. Undoubtedly complaining and/or talking about the lack of victory Slytherin had acquired in today’s events.

“One last thing, Y/N.” Regulus spoke in a hushed tone to avoid being interrupted or ease dropped on.

“Anything.”

“If my brother hurts you, there’s not a place in the world he’d be able to hide from me. Blood may be thicker than water, but my loyalty for you will always outweigh my loyalty for him. Never doubt that for a moment.”

“I appreciate it, but that’s not necessarily-“

“Believe me when I say, negotiation is not an option here. You will lose this argument.” Regulus’s dark eyes were completely serious and his face showed no signs of amusement.

“Is your plan to treat me like a child of divorce?”

“Mmm, we’ll work on the arrangements later.” Regulus smiled at you, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You know you will always be my best friend, right?” You asked taking his hand in yours.

“Don’t tell Barty that, he might kill me.” Regulus leaned into you.

“Well we would’t want that, now would we.”

The life of a pureblood had taught you many things. None of which had seamed to prove helpful in any way shape or form for your current situation.

While you might have seamed to patch things up with Regulus for the most part. Although you still were treading in dangerous waters. At least you could sleep soundly knowing he was willing to come around to the idea. In time, of course.

Yet, you still faced another dilemma; your relationship. Secrets were being kept from you, that was obvious enough, but what the secret was remained a mystery to you.

It didn’t help that Sirius and Remus seamed to have no intention of letting you in on it anytime soon. Taking into consideration how much history the two had, you continued to feel out of place in your own relationship, and feared for how much long you could take it.

For the past three days, you had to be condemned to visiting your oh so loving family. Torture did not even begin to cover it. Though you knew there were pureblood children in worst situations. The Blacks were a prime example. Leading you to appreciate your dysfunctional family because at least they had never used an unforgivable curse on you. To say the bar was low would be an understatement.

So as you walked through the castle walls having returned from your trip. Your mind began to wonder. However, your moment of peace was short lived as you passed the Hospital Wing.

You couldn’t see much but you could see Sirius who was walking towards the door. Through a series of lies, excuses and distractions, the boys had managed to occlude you from Remus’s condition. Yet, your weekend away just so happened to be a full moon. A particularly horrific one in fact. No chance were they going to be able to hide it from you now.

Sirius’s sliver eyes were accompanied by purple eye bags from staying up all night with Remus. Hair fell in disarray and tangles were visible in his usual elegant locs. He appeared gaunt, almost as if the life had been drained out of him.

Upon seeing you, a serge of panic ripped through his entire being.

“Oh Salvar.” You rushed towards him in panic searching his face for signs of injury. It only worked to make him feel more guilty than he already was.

“S’m nothin’.” Tiredness and worry were evident in his voice.

“Sirius, do not take me for a fool.”

“I’m not, honestly, just-“ Whilst barely finding the energy to form words, you interrupted him with rage already approaching.

“What’ll be this time, huh?” Hands fell from his face leaving a cold chill. You crossed your arms in front of your chest, you were beyond rage, you were done.

“It’s not like that, baby.” His voice begged for sympathy but you refused to show the effort he had on you.

“Where’s Remus?”

Sirius’s eyes widen at the thought of you seeing Remus in his current state. You stepped forward to enter the hospital wing causing him to plant himself in front of you. Using his height to block your view. Your flight or fight activated. Making use of the large space of the room you tricked him by making him believe you were headed one way and then pushed past him in the other.

As soon as you had escaped his gasp, Sirius ran after you in panic. However, with our tired he was, he didn’t have the strength to carry through.

Remus lay curled up on the hospital bed. Bandages surrounded his body in multiple places. Most seamed clean but others had large red stains from blood. Bruises and cuts decorated his body like Christmas lights. The beautiful brown eyes that you had come to cherish so dearly had taken on a dull hue. With dark circles surround them and bloodshot eyes. His hair stuck up in all different directions filled with dirt and a sneer of blood.

A whine escaped the thin werewolf when he turned on his side to see who had entered. His eyes struggled to focus for a few moments to depict your figure, but when he did, he swore he felt just like he did before people knew about his secret. Ashamed, scared, horrified all mixed into self loathing.

“Remus?” You managed to choke out through the tears that had began to form in your eyes upon seeing him.

“Hey, dovie.”

Taglist: @maraudersforlife2005 @xlxnq

[sanjifucker42069]

Looks Like Lingerie to Me - Part Two

Word Count: 1.4k

Part 1

A belated and awkward part 2. I’ll start writing part 3 in the morning (it’s like 1am lmao)

For those who need a visual aid, here. (oof feels like wattpad or quotev but girlypops i am cringe but i am free. it isnt a perfect representation, but its pretty accurate. titilating, no? ;) )

Warnings: Lingerie lmao…this is pretty short, and is just a set-up for part 3. A lot of this is my own feelings surrounding cis men in lingerie. As with part 1 gender neutral reader. Yeah! Hope you enjoy!

---------------------------------------

Sanji couldn't stop thinking about it. You thought he'd look hot in lingerie? You thought he looked slutty?

It had overtaken every waking moment. Any time he wasn't focused on a task all he could see was the dumb stare you gave him, eyes focused on his thighs.

He'd love to wear lingerie for you if it meant you'd stare at him like that.

----------------------

The Going Merry was docked, the Straw Hats carrying out their duties, and Sanji had a plan.

"I'm gonna go shopping. You coming (Name)? Sanji can carry our bags." Nami preened, looking absolutely glowing at the prospect of new clothes. Sanji bit his lip. He wanted to go with Nami and you, really he did, but if either of you caught on he'd die of embarrassment.

"You okay, Ji?"

Huh?

You were asking something.

"What? Oh, yeah, love. I'm fine. I'm afraid I have business to attend to on the island."

You blinked at him before smiling that dazzling smile up at him. He was smitten, his fortitude nearly wavering. "Of course. You do what you gotta do!"

Business his ass. Instead he hurried to check out the town.

----------------------

A small, seedy shop tucked away in an alley. Sanji entered the store warily. A small, old woman trotted out from the back. Sanji blanched. He didn't want to discuss this with a grandma! 

"Hello young man, here for something for your wife?"

Sanji felt himself flush. He tried to wander around the store. "No, no-"

"Your girlfriend then?" 

Ah. This grandmother didn't know when to quit.

"Not exactly?"

The old lady grabbed his arm. Sanji raised a brow, turning back to her. She was grinning at him, eyes narrowed and sparkling with something he couldn't place.

"Is it for you? Such a handsome young man as yourself." 

What? Sanji's face was on fire. He was flustered beyond belief. His hands were lightly shaking, eyes darting around for anyone else in the store.

"Come with me darling. My name's Bea." The old lady chimed, dragging Sanji with her. "What colour were you thinking?"

"Oh, um." Sanji was panicking, voice high. Did she even have lingerie for men? "Blue?" 

Bea hummed. "I do have blue, but I have a lovely pink set that would just make your skin pop."

Pink? Sanji didn't think it was possible to flush darker, and yet here he was. "I, uh, would it even fit me?"

"Of course sonny! You're quite slim." Bea swatted at his arm, patting his biceps for good measure as she led him through the store. "So, tell me about the lucky one."

"They're beautiful." Sanji began dreamily. Where should he even start? "The most gorgeous creature I've ever laid my eyes on. They have this laugh that just brightens up any room, and such a sense of humour. I’ve been smitten with them since I met them.”

“You two aren’t together?”

Sanji shook his head sadly. “No, no. We’re just good friends. They, uh… Do you know what shirt stays are?”

Bea laughed, patting the cook on the arm. “Say no more.”

She let go of him when they reached the back of the store. Sanji watched nervously as she carded through a rack of, well, did it really constitute clothing? Skimpy piece after skimpy piece were revealed.

And then he saw it.

It was a gorgeous baby pink. Bea ahhed as she removed it from the rack, holding it up to inspect it. She turned to face him, sizing him up next to the set. Sanji felt his throat go dry as he really took it in.

The set was a simple baby pink bralette, made from some kind of sheer lacy material with a flower motif. The plunging neckline was created to draw attention to the cleavage, and it was adorned with some delicate string of pearl-like decoration to highlight the collarbones. The panties were the same sheer material, clear that they weren’t to hide much. The sides of it were accentuated with cute ruffles that further added a feminine touch. Sanji felt lightheaded. 

Finally, it was a beautiful pastel garter belt that sat in the middle, completing the look. It too was made from the same stretchy, sheer lace. It would wrap around the waist, strategic cutouts to accentuate the waist, hips, and the bellybutton. The central cutout had a simple chain of pearls to add interest and movement. Four satin-looking ribbons led from bottom front and back, with clips attached to hold up stockings.

Oh, maybe his shirt stays were kinda…

Nonetheless, it was breathtaking. Sanji had clearly marvelled at it for too long, as Bea chuckled, causing him to flush red. The old woman, lingerie in hand, led him to a mirror. 

“I’m…I can’t.”

Bea just chuckled, holding the hanger up against him. “Look in the mirror boy, I’ve been making lingerie for fifty years. This suits you.”

Sanji obeyed her, staring at himself in the mirror. What he saw took his breath away. He looked a mess, face red and hair messy. He had to hand it to the old woman, the colour was flattering against him. Even the cut looked good. Sanji shifted from foot to foot, anxiety creeping in. He wasn’t really sure how he felt about looking so…so feminine. 

Sanji was a man. It wouldn’t be right for him to wear something so delicate and gorgeous. Right? Of course women’s clothing was beautiful, the fabrics they used, the stylish designs he’d seen the girls on the ship sport. Men’s clothing just, well it was meant to be masculine and boring. Right? He couldn’t let himself give in to that want to feel pretty, that would be wrong.

Right?

Bea, clearly noticing his inner struggle, scoffed.

“Sonny.”

“Sanji.” “Right. Sonny, I’ve been doing this for a long time.” “You, uh, you already said that.”

“I know that!” Bea snapped, swatting at him. Sanji’s gaze drifted back to the pink lace. “I’ve been doing this for a long time. When I started, well, I made boring beige bras and the same lacy black underwear again, and again, and again. I got bored. I got creative! And when I got creative, I became determined to make people feel pretty. People, Sonny, not women.”

Sanji went rigid, his throat was so dry. Was he that obvious? All he could make out was a simple, “Oh?”

Bea grinned. “Everyone deserves the right to feel pretty.” Sanji opened his mouth to speak but the old woman just held up a wrinkled hand. “Nope. Don’t care if you’re a ‘man’. Everyone. Sonny, one day you’ll realise that being a ‘man’ is more than just grunting like an ape, or never showing any vulnerability, or even having a penis. Man is a state of mind, and Sonny, the sooner you feel comfortable in who you are, the more beautiful life is going to be for you.”

Sanji felt breathless. “Really?”

“Really.” Bea nodded, a fondness in her eyes. “Come, we’ll get you a choker to go with it, I have just the one.”

Sanji felt a million miles away as Bea led him to the shop counter. She handled a delicate pink satin choker with care, presenting it to him. It was a giant bow, a simple snap holding it in place around the neck. Simple, but delicate. If Sanji was honest with himself, he liked it.

“Like a million berry! Your precious one will love you in it!” Bea smiled fondly at him. “So, Sonny, you buying?”

Sanji sucked in a deep breath. When he spoke his voice was foreign to him, a shakiness underlying the wispiness. Sanji felt like he was treading water, unsure and scared of the newness of it all. He could drown at any moment.

“Yeah.”

“Good, good!”

So Sanji paid. Bea took extra care to wrap the lingerie up in a delicate pink tissue paper. His own little present. She then promptly put it in an unmarked bag. She understood, shooting him a wink.

“So, anyone, huh?”

“Oh yes, yes. You see, originally I made them for my girlfriend when I was a much younger lady. She was a farmer’s daughter, wonderful girl, shared many a kiss with her, and then some! Now I make these lovely ones for my current husband. You remind me a lot of him, Sonny. You see he lets me wear this harness thing that I put in his a-”

“Thank you grandma, I’ll be out of here now!”

“Yes, yes. Good luck, Sonny! Stop by with your sweetie and get something nice one day, okay?” Bea waved her goodbyes from the doorway, smiling that same sweet old woman smile. Sanji clutched the bag to his chest tightly. 

Right. Time to put the plan into place.

[livingincolorsagain]

Sambucky is on my mind again!

I can only imagine with the metal arm and being a super soldier that Bucky is a pretty heavy guy. And Sam needs to be able to catch his dumbass when he jumps from tall buildings without a plan, so he starts weight lifting to be able to carry Bucky. But that means that he needs to be able to confidently lift like 250 lbs, so he ends up getting pretty muscular from it. Cue Bucky drooling when he sees how jacked Sam is getting without realizing it's all for him.

It’s not that Bucky missed it happening; that’s just not possible with how often he’s watching Sam.

It’s just, well. It’s a gradual change, so slow it’s easy to not notice it happening.

And it’s all the same, because Bucky’s definitely noticing it now.

Sam’s just back from his morning run, sweat running down his face and stinging his eyes, so he lifts up the loose cotton t-shirt he has on and wipes at his face as he greets Bucky breathlessly.

Bucky’s brain kind of, well, short-circuits, blood rushing out and heading south. His mouth is suddenly dry, ears ringing, and he’s frozen against the kitchen counter, his eyes unconsciously following Sam as he heads toward the fridge and grabs the orange juice, drinking right from the box because otherwise he would be too perfect to be human.

Bucky takes a scalding sip from his coffee cup, burns his tongue and slams the cup down, eyes a little blurry, images of Sam’s extraordinary toned stomach and deliciously muscular arms tauntingly flashing in his mind.

He looks back at Sam, who’s staring at him with a raised eyebrow. At least the t-shirt is covering his stomach again, small mercies. Less of a mercy is the way his shorts are hugging his thighs and ass when he turns to put the juice back in the fridge.

God, Bucky is going to walk into a wall and knock himself out, what the fuck.

“Hey, Buck,” Sam says, and he getting closer, actually looking kind of worried now. “You okay?”

Bucky almost swallows his tongue when Sam’s close enough, because he can smell him now, on top of everything else, and it’s edging on a little too much, even for a super-soldier like himself.

He takes a deep breath (big mistake), tries to say, “yeah, I’m okay,” and ends up saying, “when did you get so muscular?”

Sam blinks, opens his mouth, closes it, then blinks again for good measure.

Bucky’s face burns; he wants to step away from the situation but there’s nowhere to go without pushing Sam out of the way, so he stays where he is, the counter’s edge digging into his back when he leans back into it.

Suddenly, Sam takes a step back and looks down, face twisting like he’s embarrassed about something.

“Remember Colorado?”

Bucky frowns, nods, then says, “yeah,” because Sam’s still not looking at him.

“You jumped out the window—“

“I was thrown out the window.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “You weren’t supposed to be anywhere close to that window at all.”

“It wasn’t my fault that I was thrown out the damn window!”

Sam takes in a frustrated breath. “Anyway, I had to… catch you and I… I almost dropped you, Bucky.”

Bucky frowns again. He doesn’t remember Sam almost dropping him. All he remembers was how one second he was free-falling and the next he had Sam’s arms around him, breaking his fall and carrying him to safety. He remembers how he just knew that Sam would catch him, how he didn’t doubt it for a second.

“Sam?” he asks, because he’s not sure how this has anything to do with Sam’s incredibly fantastic muscles.

Sam sighs. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re kinda heavy, especially when I’m trying to catch you midair. So, I, uh. I started working out more, lifting more.”

“Oh,” Bucky says. His knees are a little weak, but that’s no one’s business.

Sam’s working out and lifting more so he could carry/catch Bucky. Bucky’s brain is about to melt right out his ears.

“That’s, hm,” he tries to say anything, because Sam is getting more embarrassed, starting to fidget.

“Look, I know—”

“Really hot.”

“Oh.”

Bucky sighs, pushes aways from the counter and wraps his arms around Sam’s waist, pulls him close.

Sam’s breath hitches. “Oh,” he repeats, and he blinks slowly up at Bucky, his eyes getting steadily darker.

“You,” Bucky says, even as his heart races, because god, Sam’s into this, too, “are going to be the death of me.”

Sam opens his mouth to say something about that, but Bucky just leans in and swallows the words right off his tongue.

They can talk later.

Now, though, Bucky is going to kiss every single one of Sam’s muscles.

read on ao3

[i4bellingham]

THE PERFECT CUDDLE BUDDY : jamal musiala x reader

in which something as mundane and as simple as waking up entangled in each other's arms can either boost to start one’s day or be a reason to laze around, your boyfriend uses it for the latter.

posting short pieces for now because of writer’s block, i don't like this situation at all 🤧 anyways i’m finishing a request for jude so it will probably be up by tmrw or the next day idk i’m not really sure but it will be posted for sure!

Jamal knows he should be getting up.

It's already past 6 am and the day is not going to wait for him to leave the bed, pause the time itself so he can prepare his stuff for another day of grueling training (which in his defense he actually enjoys).

But really? How could he even leave the comfort of his soft bed when he's got the most perfect cuddle buddy wrapped around his arms like a missing puzzle to solve the enigma that is his life?

You're there, all secured and warmed up in his arms as he nudges his cold feet in between yours underneath the duvet. He knows you'll probably notice the coolness of his skin soon enough and will most likely chide him for bugging you out of your sleep because of that but really, he wants you awake just as much as he is even though he doesn't straight up wake you up.

“Your feet’s cold J.” You mumble sleepily before kicking his feet away, making Jamal chuckle from your attempt of keeping him from your warmth when he plops an entire leg over your waist.

He rubs the back of your head to make up for his early shenanigans, trailing soft kisses on the crown of your head before you're burying your face against his chest.

“Don’t you have training today?” You ask him, patting his thigh that was over your hip. “You’ll be late if you don’t move now.”

“Nah... think I’ll be fine being late just for today.” He replies, reaching over the bedside table to his right to take his phone. “Or should I just skip training today? Tell the team I got cold or somethin’?”

“And for what reason would you pull this lie?”

He taps on his phone for a few moments before he's chucking the device back on the bedside table, shooting you a mischievous smile before tackling you in a hug that had you squealing.

“No- Jamal! I swear to God I’ll kick your ass if you don’t get off me right now!”

Jamal pushes his luck by completely letting his arms and legs go for support, letting his weight fall down on you as he snuggles against your chest comfortably.

“But you're soft, and warm and I’m tired baby... just let me recharge real quick yeah?” You boop his nose, rolling your eyes but saying nothing else except letting him lay on top of you like a sack of potatoesㅡ a fine sack of potatoes.

“But seriously though, are you heading over to training?”

Jamal nods his head. “Yes but I texted the team, told them I’ll be late because someone caught a cold...” He ends his sentence with a cheeky smile, grinning wider when he notice that you're contemplating who on Earth caught a cold.

He thinks it's cute the way your eyes visibly widens as the realization dawns on you about what he did, slapping his back playfully for a good measure before you're lovingly chiding the life out of him.

“No way you lied to your team! I did not caught the cold did I? Why would you lie love seriously?” You huff.

“But I want to spend some time with you... such a good day outside, bright and beautiful don’t you think?” He points at the windows, watching the sun rise above the horizon in all it's sunny glory.

You gently flick on his forehead, rubbing on his skin when he whines about your flick being too painful (even though you both know it's really not and he's just whining for some extra affection), you cuddle him close to you still.

“Or you could have just asked the team for a day off like a normal person would?”

“And have Phonzy blowing up my phone?” He asks with a shake of his head. “No thank you, I’d rather do this instead.”

“But you'll attend training later on the day, won’t you love?”

A soft smile blossoms in Jamal’s lips, most likely done by the familiar pet name you normally call him on a daily basis as he nods his head in affirmation.

“Yes Ma'am.” He nuzzles his face back on your chest as you wrap an arm on his back, rubbing your palm over his shirt up and down. “I’ll leave when the clock hits 9:30 yeah? Just let me lay down here with you... You're so warm and soft how is this possible...”

[instarsandcrime]

Worried Sick

So gonna start with some honesty here. This might be the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written. My theater gay ass couldn't keep away from an interpretation of a subplot from G//uys//and//Do//lls//. The idea of someone getting so worried over a Big Thing(tm) that they end up with a psychosomatic cold until the problem is resolved got me. Also Ade/laide's La/me/nt was the first thing that awoke the kink in me, so there's some BIG inspiration taken from that song and scene overall.

SO. I decided 'hey, why not' and now Lu/ci/fer gets to suffer because he definitely was not a mess when Li/lith was pregnant. Featuring a few of @glitterrosesnzz headcanons because his ideas are chaotic and I love that dearly.

Enjoy! ❤️

---

It was six months into Lilith’s pregnancy that Lucifer stopped fussing and fretting over her. Instead, to her lack of surprise, her husband had decided to spoil her rotten. And although he was increasingly sweet– and she didn’t mind a bit of pampering now and again– old habits died hard. Centuries of serving Lilith in Eden had led to the occasional reminder that yes, she was safe. And yes, her fallen guardian angel needed to step away from his duties once in a while.

Sadly, this routine was not limited to using the stairs.

"Lucifer, I'm fine."

"But Lilith–!"

"They're just sore ankles, my love. Nothing to worry yourself over." The queen giggled as she pried her husband’s grip from her waist, kissing the backs of his hands affectionately along the way.

"Okay. Gotcha. Stairs good. Ankles bad but also good. Say no more." Lucifer pulled back, wringing them as they walked. Desperately trying to keep boundaries without bursting into flames. "It's just. I mean. If you trip and fall you could get hurt. And if you get hurt the baby will get hurt! A-and if that happens– snff!"

"Then it's a good thing I won't." She added, gesturing to the bottom step beneath them.

"Oh." The obsessive rambling cut itself at the stem, an embarrassed flush blooming on his face. "I, um. I see that we've made it."

"So we have." Lilith said with a fond look. She continued her journey down the hallway with her head held high– caretaker skittering to the front and walking backwards as they went.

"Lily dear, if I could just mention one more thing?"

"It’s alright, Lucifer. Speak your mind."

"Much as I hate to say it, you've been working for hours, and bending all day might hurt your back! Ugh.” He shuddered for extra emphasis, “You should be resting, not signing documents for some stuffy Goetia noble."

"And if I were confined to writing in bed, wouldn't I still be upright?" Lilith pondered aloud.

“Well–”

“And those downy pillows can only do so much.”

"Well– well yes, but! But, I…ah, shit. I did it again, didn’t I?" Lucifer mourned. Entering the queen’s large, lavish office, the demon rushed to pull out a seat for her. “Fine, fine. You win. I trust you.”

“Good boy.” Lilith purred as she graciously accepted, leaning back to peck him on the cheek. Watching with deep affection as the great demon king all but melted into a lovestruck puddle. "You know, I have a question of my own."

"Yes, my beloved?" Lucifer’s voice sung like windchimes, still stuck in his reverie.

"How are you feeling?"

"In perfect condition, Your Highness. With just a snap of the ol’ fingers, anything in the universe will be yours. You just name it!" He smirked, adding a quick little bow for good measure.

"Ah, no. What I mean is," Lilith’s gaze softened, "are you feeling anxious about the baby?"

The air around the king of Hell froze just short of ten degrees.

"I...w-well...oh, geez. That's a-ahh...a cohh! Complicated question, isn't it?" Lucifer laughed nervously between light, hiccuping breaths.

"A simple yes or no would suffice."

"Nnnnooo..." He drawled, scratching lightly at his arm.

"...Oh. Alright." His wife answered simply, turning to her paperwork.

"Alright?" 

"If you say you are well, I will trust your judgement." Lilith picked up her pen, tip hovering just above the parchment as she peeked a glance from behind. "Although, I was wondering. Have you thought of a name for our little girl yet?”

"I! Well! Um!" He discreetly swiped at his nose, "You're certainly coming up with...w-with– Ahem! With those hard-h-hih! …hhhhitting questions today, aren’t you?"

"Then what would you propose we do for her new crib? Any toys in mind?" The queen asked, very much aware of the other losing struggle that was worsening by the second.

"You always like t-to...to think...ahehhh...aheadD'SHH'hhiu! T'shhhiew! Etch'SHIEW!" Ribbons of fire poured from between Lucifer’s fangs, and he slapped a hand over his mouth to tamper it.

"Goodness, bless you!" Lilith went to stand, but Lucifer quickly waved open a portal before she could stop him.

"Gotta go for a– kaff! a sec!" He croaked between smoking coughs, "Be back soon, I promise! Don't-- kaff kaff! Don't get up, just stay off your feet!"

And with one last flickering outburst of a sneeze, the portal closed behind him.

Alone and left to her own devices, the queen only shrugged and pushed herself upright. Well. Better late than never to confront this, she supposed.

The bathroom door slammed in a hurry and, disaster temporarily abated, Lucifer slumped against it. With a hoarse sigh he shed his illusion like snakeskin, checking the mirror for what lay underneath. Puffy eyes with dull yellow pupils and sickly red sclera. Beads of sweat rolling with every wave of nausea. Scarlet cherub cheeks shifted to gold, glowing with a feverish holy blush. Groaning over a sudden realization, the fallen angel pulled back his collar to observe tiny stars that peppered the ends of his shoulder blades to the tips of his pointed ears. Ugh, and he thought he got rid of those pox-like symptoms when his form changed. He peered under his gloves and uh-huh. Yyyep! This sucks.

Stopping to scratch his cheek, he threw open the medicine cabinet and snapped his fingers. In an instant the shelves and edges of the tub were lined with vintage bottles and beakers, assorted in colorful rows. Mortar and pestles collected in the sink, covered in all different types of thick, herbal powders. Wadded tissues overflowed a once-empty wastebin, and Lucifer quickly snatched one from a nearby box to blow, wincing at the touch of his raw nose.

"Ughh. Okay, where did I leave off?" Another flick of the wrist and piles of stacked books littered the floor, each one marked with all sorts of angelic and demonic symbols. Sitting on the counter he began to read, cotton cloth pressed to his face. "Six months of this. Unbelievable."

He read aloud half-heartedly with another soft sniffle, "Angelic flu. Patient may experience bouts of nausea that make me want to die a second time, the sudden urge to cough up a fucking lung, a rash made of stardust because of course I still get that down here, an itchy nose that won’t quihh…hihhhh...! Hih-hih-hhhit'SCHHH! It'SHIEW! HIT'SHH’HHIEW!" He fumbled to catch his book before it could hit the ground, breathing a sigh of relief. "Whew! Don’t talk about the fourth thing. Got it."

Tugged along to the instructions he opened his other palm, producing an ornate teacup that graciously fell into an equally fanciful saucer. Amber apothecary vials lifted themselves, pouring small helpings of this and that as he continued. "An easy remedy to cure the chronic organic symptoms of," his voice soured, "a feeling of insecurity and frustration caused by withheld duties-- oh, for Heaven’s sake!"

He threw the book to the ground with a loud clatter. No matter how many fancy words are written, no matter how many diagrams are shown, no matter how long he’s waited and waited around for this wonderfully delicate life to come into this world–

“ET’SCHH’HHIU! Snff! Ugh…”

He's seen the same damn result every time! It's– it’s just a small case of the sniffles. That’s all there is to it. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Lucifer?" A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. "Is everything alright? I heard something fall."

Shit!

"Just a mo-ment!" Lucifer winced at the way his voice cracked, threatening to break down in a coughing fit. Biting the bullet he downed the tea in one gulp, waving away the medical concoctions and used tissues to another existence. "I, uh– um– spilled a drihhh-drink!"

His breath suddenly hitched and he fought the urge to drag a hand down his face, silently swearing when the remedy somehow made things worse. Every inhale burned with a strong tickle, and he pinched his nose and sniffed hard in a desperate attempt to settle it.

"You spilled a drink in the bathroom?" Lilith asked, voice tinged with quiet amazement.

Lucifer cringed as he finished the magic touches on his starry spots, "...Yes?"

The door clicked, and his guest stepped through the threshold with the sweep of her wrap dress. She circled every nook and cranny, taking in its shimmering appearance. Her gaze moved to her husband– put together and pristinely dressed, boasting a huge grin. In short, everything around her was absolute perfection.

How unnerving.

"I suppose you will be joining me in my office?"

"Your-- oh!" Lucifer nodded stiffly,  "Of course, of course! I just need more ti...t-tihhh...time– Ahem! Oh dear, 'scuse me. Had a little bit of a t-tickle there."

"I would love to invite you back," Lilith’s brow furrowed, "but it might do you well to take your own advice and get some rest."

"Hm? Did I do some...s-somethihhh...hih! S-something I shouldn’t have?" He swallowed, fighting the urge to close his fluttering eyelashes.

"No– at least, not until today. I hate to do this darling," His wife crouched, holding a handkerchief of her own, "but you missed a spot."

Before he could think Lilith wiped at the angry flush that brightened the bridge of his nose like it were a smudge of dirt, and the reaction was immediate. Lucifer gasped, eyes lined with irritated tears. "W-wait! Let's talk abouhhh...a-about thihhh…!"

"Poor thing." Lilith sighed, moving to brush the rim of his nostrils. "It's so sensitive now, too."

And with that, she kissed the tip, helping her husband hold the cloth as he snapped at the waist.

"Het'shhh! 'Tchiew! 'Tsshhh! Hit'chh-tshh!-tshhh-het'shhh! Heh'TSHHH! H-hih...H-hih!...waihhht-- 'tshh-tch! slow dowhh- down-- Hih'kschh! please-- Het'Schhh!" He begged to himself, sadly to no avail. His illusions went down, and so did his strength. "Hih-hih-hit'SCHH'HIEW! HT'SCHHH-'Tsh!-'TSH! 'TSHHHIEW! Hehhh-Ht'CHT! HET’TCHHH'hiew-TSHHH'HIEW! H-hehh- c-cad't- Het'CHHHIEW! stoh-huh!...st-stohhp...HIT'SCHHH'HHIU! Hih-hih-Hih! Hhh...ghhh..."

A slender finger pressed just underneath his twitching nose, and all that was left of the uncontrollable fit was a shaky, tired breath. "Thadk you. Snff!"

He blinked his vision into working order, bashfully taking the handkerchief to let loose another blow. All the while gentle claws stroked loose, damp locks back into place.

"How long has this been going on?"

"Three-- kaff! Th-three days."

Lilith raised an eyebrow.

"One month?"

She crossed her arms. “Try again.”

"...Six months." He cleared his throat. "But that doesn't matter! I don't have any responsibilities at the moment, and you're taking the brunt of well-- everything! Your work, the pregnancy. You should be focusing on yourself, not worrying about me."

"What? No!" Lilith took a seat on the porcelain rim of the tub, scooping the fallen angel into her lap with a warm embrace. "No, no, don’t neglect yourself for my sake. You have every right to feel nervous too."

"Nervous?"

"Of course." She urged, "Nervous that you may be a bad father, perhaps?"

"Wh--" Lucifer huffed out a laugh, scratching at his neck. "Don't be absurd! I-I don't think about that! Nehhh...heh! Snff! Never."

"Oh?" Lilith tilted her head curiously, "So the rambling, fussing, and conveniently timed illness means nothing?"

"Nnnnope! Nuhh-snff! Nothin’." The demoness nearly jumped out of her skin as large pillars of books reappeared in a flash of holy light.

"I just stopped my search at angelic flu-- which was a bust, by the way.” Lucifer continued, picking up a book to smack the cover in frustration. “That eliminates most heavenly illnesses. I didn't check curses yet, but I've got a hunch it's some type of plague. Those are all the rage on Earth these days. Actually, when we start using the stroller, should our little girl be outside on walks when another case carries over? She could get sihh-hih!...s-sick just from br-brea- snff! breathing. Can you imagine–…imagine thahh...th-that?"

"Darling." She tilted his chin upwards with a teasing smile, breaking him out of his thoughts. "Be careful. Talking about the baby too much will send you into a fit."

"Pfft! What, me? Noooo! Sure, I just think about her once in a while and wor-- consider! Consider the fact that I might mess up. And when I consider the fact that I might mess up, I tend to...to sn...s-sneehh...! Heh!"

Lucifer pushed himself from her grip, pitching helplessly into slowly soaking fabric. "Het'chiu! Hih'tchhh'hiew! Hihhh...hih! HITCHIEW!" With every sneeze his demon horns grew until they cradled Lilith’s cheeks.

"I warned you, didn't I?" His beloved huffed, rubbing a hand on his back while his breaths began to calm.

"Ughhh…Sorry 'bout thahh-hah-h-hhhah! HAT’SHHHIEW! HET’KSHHHOO! Hhheh…hihhh-hih!…ohhh…" He moaned, punctuating his misery with a loud, gurgling blow.

"If it helps break this 'curse' in any way," Lilith scratched at the base her patient's horns, and his twisted expression finally relaxed, breathing a dreamy sigh. "I think you'll make a great father."

"Mmm? Why's that?" He slurred, leaning into the touch.

"Because our child isn't born yet, and you've already worried yourself sick over her." Wide eyes snapped open, and Lilith pursed her lips to bite back a laugh.

"Ugh, that pun was terrible. Even for me." Lucifer pouted dramatically, collapsing against her. 

“I love you too.”

[passingnotions]

Dublur | Dahyun

smut, trigger warning for noncon/dubcon—Dubucon? I'll stop with the name puns when I stop writing Dahyun. Disciplinary Action Pt. 2 btw. 1200~ words A/N: Huge thank you to @capslocked for all the help editing; I'd lowkey call it a collab thanks to his input.

The secluded door at the end of the hall is intimidating. Overseer Kim D. You take a breath before the two knocks.

“You may come in.”

It’s a sterile environment: every piece of furniture and storage is neatly placed within measured ranges, properly squaring off Kim Dahyun’s desk in center stage. Two chairs face the ensemble and the Overseer herself, who stands prim at your arrival.

“I was beginning to doubt your return. Was our first session not compelling enough to warrant another—in this case apparent—mishap?”

You stand behind both guest seats, matching Dahyun in posture. “My apologies, Overseer. I feared that making another mistake in such a short period of time might attract unnecessary attention. I’m not prone to slip-ups.” 

“Something you should be proud of, yet here you are: willing to sacrifice that perfect student record for another meeting with yours truly. Sit.” 

You obey.

“What will it be this time?” Excitement gets the better of you.

“Now now.” The Overseer steps around her desk, over to the front, where she leans back and sits herself on the edge. “No rushing.” She reaches behind her and slides a glass of water towards you. “Thirsty?”

The glass sits at the edge beside her, fingers trailing the rim as she awaits your response—you’ll have to reach out, not her. “I—yes. Thank you.” You lean in and extend your arm. Her hand never leaves the glass and your eyes stray to find her plump ass spilling onto the desk, at odds with the tight dress that wraps way too short around her pale thighs. 

Another glass is revealed as you pick up yours and you both drink the room temperature water in unison.

 “So, why come back?” Her voice blunt and direct.

“Um.” You ponder. It seems like an obvious answer: the basic pleasure of it all, how it has you crawling back. But Overseer Kim is not that simple. Regardless—”I wondered… about the methodology.” you give the answer a shot despite your unsure voice. “Why… uh… that, out of all things?”

“It’s simple, really.” A satisfactory smile surfaces. “This academy primarily focuses on science—as you know—and students are to learn through testing within realistic conditions.”

“Of course, our primary focus is to learn with real tools, chemicals, and subjects. We—” You trail off, unable to finish your sentence. A bout of confusion follows and you don’t understand how—

“Exactly.” Dahyun picks up your trail. She’s somehow behind her desk now—when did she—searching through one of the open drawers. “You’ll be surprised to know that, as faculty, we are encouraged to do the same.” Her last words feel a world away, and the final image before blackout is Dahyun, blurred, with an object you can’t make out in hand.

~~

You slowly come to. The bright light overhead burns into your eyes and there’s the realization that your neck cranes backwards. With slight pain you level out, sight still adjusting. There’s a sound, a wet sound, and you manage to feel the source before spotting it. 

“What’s—ngh—going on?” You barely manage to speak. 

“You’re being reprimanded, remember? Keep still.” The order is accompanied by fingernails that pierce into your thigh and prevent you from shuffling about your seat. 

When the sight is finally made clear, you notice the Overseer; she holds a device of rubber, plastic—both? It grips your erect cock with gratifying pressure, sliding up and down with the consistent rhythm of Dahyun’s hand. “You—” the glass of water you once held is fixed on the desk behind the Overseer. “What did you put in that?!” You would stop her stroking, but your hands and feet are bound, constrained, fucked.

Her grip on your thigh tightens. “I said still.” The rhythm slows to a crawl and Dahyun looks up from her kneeling position at your still-dazed face. She observes your lubricated length, the veins that shape it firm, and how it throbs with each miniscule motion. “It’s an aphrodisiac, to answer your question, with a very convenient side-effect.”

“Fuck. I would’ve—hng—I would’ve undressed anyway. That’s why I’m here—” She picks up the pace and you’re tense all around. You never thought being tied up would be this enticing. 

“To answer your other question.” Dahyun begins to twist the device on every upstroke, sending waves through your restrained body. “The one about methodology.” She pauses her train of thought to feel your cock ache, watching each pulse make the device move and shift. “It’s about control.” And with the words, she bottoms out on your length, having it completely covered by the rubber interior. “You’re mine, and you’ll do as I say.”

“Mmm—fffuck.”

Dahyun begins to stroke once more. “Do you understand?”

“Y-yes.” The aphrodisiac is surely having its effect—you’ve barely woken up and you’re as sensitive as one can get. You feel how your cock pulsates, nearing its threshold.

“How close?” She asks plainly.

“So fucking close.”

The grip she had on your leg turns gentle; it caresses your inner thigh, stimulating the area around your extremely sensitive length. Dahyun is examining you, appreciating you: her live subject to do as she pleases. In the passing minutes, her eyes liven up as your chest quickens its breaths; she finds amusement in the way sweat builds up on your forehead and brows; and how your wrists fight against the tight grip of their restriction?  She revels in it. 

The buildup feels like an eternity—you don’t want it to end—but Dahyun’s pace hastens as she notices your tells. Your hips jolt up and you hiss: “I’m going to cum.”

As your breaths become moans, Dahyun releases you and chucks the device to the floor. “Don’t think we’re done yet.” She lets you pump your seed for about three throbs before grabbing your cock with her own hand, lubricating it with both oil and cum. 

Your moans become grunts; pain—more so pleasure—enraptures your now burning cockhead as Dahyun continues to stroke through the dying grasps of your orgasm. “Cum for me. Again.” 

“Fuck Dahyun, it’s so—fffuck—it’s so sensitive.” She doesn’t care. Her hand is a completely different sensation: it’s soft, silky, and in contrast to what she used on you before, you can feel each finger press down on your length as opposed to the encompassing yet inanimate pressure of the rubber.

It’s a struggle—on one hand, your cock begs for her to stop, each nerve crying out on how it reached its utter limit, yet on the other, her hand strokes your length with such delicacy; it’s downright skillful. 

You decide to succumb to the ravishing sensations—perhaps whatever she gave you is also working its magic—and your cock reaches climax within the minute. It’s a staggering volume of pleasure, all at once, out of nowhere. This time, Dahyun decides to drain you herself, not letting a single throb go to waste, and strokes each and every drop into the air, onto her hands, as the trails of oil mixed with white cover her hand entirely. 

You sit there, tied, spent, as Dahyun cleans herself and the device; it's not until after she's done that she even thinks to release you. Your wrists and ankles are marked and chafed, but the most worn-out feeling stems from your cock. 

“Control?” You ask and break the silence.

She stores the device back in its drawer. “Yes, control.”

“You tied me up.” You accuse.

“As if you didn’t like it.” She deflects. “You would’ve tied yourself up if I ordered, but you’re more agreeable this way. Simpler”

Something stirs in you. You don’t disagree; her assured gaze knows this. 

“You’ll be back before long,” Dahyun speaks before you manage to retort. “Off you go.”

[thomthomp]

TADC Jax Cosplay Process and Con Experience !

Hello !! Thought I'd post a little journal/process thing for a Jax cosplay I've done recently! I wouldn't call this a step-by-step tutorial as many of this was trial and error, along with much improvisation (I also didnt plan on doing this so there are few actual process images haha). This was a lot of fun and I hope someone can get something out of this !

MAKING THE OVERALLS

So as this was my first time sewing anything, a couple blunders were made. First I definitely shoulda bought this fabric a metre longer than i did. As a result after cutting it in half to create the two sides, I realised it was gonna be way too short going up the chest. So after sewing the two sides together I ended up with some oversized clown pants, that also happened to be super skinny in the legs as I may have eyballed cutting the inseam lol. Drop crotch realness was in full effect.

I followed this tutorial on how to make the base of my overalls, her very "eh, let's go for it" attitude was massively helpful in making this first sewing attempt less daunting

So...with limited fabric and with no immediate desire to buy another metre from Hobbycraft, I knew there was only one thing to do...

And that was slapping some leftover scrap on top lol. After that all I had to do was sew the straps on both sides and I had some (just about) wearable, non-adjustable overalls ! The colour is different as I had dyed it in Rit Dyemore super pink after sewing.

Now because I was adding this extra scrap on top after sewing the base, I wasnt able to do flat measurements to see if this scrap would actually go all the way around. Rather than taking more time to properly pin the two parts together and getting a proper look. My impatient brain said %$!# no and just pinned parts of it as i sewed, making it less finicky, but not realising that the scrap was too short. Luckily, pulling that empty space together and sewing it resulted in a fit that was almost perfect for my body, as i wanted it to be form fitting anyway. So remember kids, being impatient works out every time :)

The last details I had to do (other than hot glueing some yellow foam buttons to the straps) was add the chest patch and inside leg sleeves at the bottom. Using the original colour fabric was perfect for these two parts (I swear it looks pinker irl). For the chest patch I just folded some scrap together and top stiched around the edges, leaving the top edge open as convenient phone/card storage for Con. I didn't trust myself to not bind the back and front of the overalls together while sewing it on, so I just used hot glue and slapped in on there. The leg sleeves were even easier, sewing some more scrap around then binding the exposed edges with hot glue.

MAKING THE HEAD

So I had no idea how the head was gonna turn out, my only cosplay head experience prior was my first attempt at Jax last October of which I used painted foam card. Minecraft lookin ass

I knew going in that I wanted to do it fursuit head style, starting with a foam bucket helmet and hot glueing extra foam to the sides to create the skeleton of the head. Goated foam head tutorial by Skyehigh Studios was used for this

Attaching some half moon foam cut outs to each side of the head, doubling them up for stronger support, then adding some shorter half moons next to each eye hole, I was able to get the oval shape that jax has going on.

I measured around the head between the two half moon cuts on each side, then hot glued two pieces of fleece fabric on the front and back. For UK peeps I'd reccommend poundfabrics.co.uk, really affordable and arrived super quick, which was good since i left buying the fleece about a week before con (oops)

Now here's where I probably shoulda done more pre-measurements and sewed the top part of the fleece on with the side parts, so I could simply slip the thing on the foam skeleton like a beanie. Well, caveman brain got the better of me and just hot glued the underside of the fleece parts together. It was uneven, several holes remained and I burned my fingers, but gosh darn was that there three fleece patches glued together on them there.

Finally, at 2am the night before con I added the ears. I was initially concerned as I had underestimated how the weight of the foam would react to flopping around on the head, which made for some vry droopy ears. To make em more straight, but still keep the flop, I stuck some large cocktail sticks I had lying around about half way up the ears. This still allowed for flop behaviour, but stayed mostly upright while wearing them. After wrapping the fleece around and hotglueing them down in two gaps I had made, the head was officially done !

MAKING THE TOP

For my first time making a top, I followed this Youtube tutorial that went the most simple route I could find, taking one of my long sleeve tops, leaving about 1 cm seam allowance and cutting out two parts each for the top and sleeves.

So, as I was still getting used to using a sewing machine, I had managed to jam the needle multiple times when sewing together the base of the top, ruining almost all the spare needles I had. Upon viewing a tutorial on how not to jam your machine, I realised I had been doing the first three points she made, consistently lol. In the moment and since it was the last day, I didnt want to take risks and simply hotglued that bad boy down.

CON EXPERIENCE

So embarking to the first day of MCM London I immediately realised how awkward the overalls were gonna be to wear, I had to wear them as high and tight as i could otherwise it was gonna look like I had comically short legs. This meant that the thigh area was gonna be fairly uncomfortable when moving and would have to take the straps off and shift everything down if I wanted to sit. Aaaaaand about an hour into the first day, the enevitable rip occurred

Thankfully the rip was probably in the most inconspictuous place possible so i didn't really care lol. But any other fears of more rips, or the ears giving out in the wind were nonexistent with the great time I had meeting people. A big highlight was the very first person who came up to me who was actively looking for digital circus cosplays and HAD CUSTOM POKEMON CARDS THEY WERE GIVING OUT TO THEM.

So cute, made my day T_T, shoutouts to milskellyfox for the card. So yeah met a ton of cool people and everything held together for the whole 3 days, including the ears which I was most spooked about lol. Can't wait to start work on the next costumes for October's Comic-Con!

[zaebeecee]

To Sever a Loveless Bond

••RadioDust Soulmate AU••

Part 8/?

First chapter | Previous chapter | Next chapter

Read on AO3

Chapter 8 art by @fletchingbrilliant

•••

I’m sorry this took forever, y’all, my autoimmune bullshit has been kicking my ass the last few days. But it’s long (lol)

CW for discussion of racism, homophobia, and medical abuse/trauma. Mild CW for the beginnings of the promised developing smut. It isn’t graphic (yet). Alastor’s POV is wordy and meandering.

My beautiful and perfect husband designed and did art of Angel Dust’s ritual outfit, and it’s right here and you should go give him love.

•••

Angel Dust arrived at Alastor’s room at precisely eight, just as instructed. Despite the fact that Alastor himself was the one who set the time, and the fact that he was aware Angel Dust had noticed his fondness for punctuality, he was still caught off guard when he heard the gentle knock on his door.

It wasn’t normal, how often the spider was able to surprise him by doing nothing more than being himself. Alastor chalked up his own altered state to the conversation with Rosie earlier that afternoon, because if his fellow overlord had only one talent, it would be pushing him off balance with very little trouble. It wasn’t really Angel Dust having some sort of profound effect on him. It was just Rosie, and the cursed mark on his arm.

Alastor knew that he could have just bade the door open on its own with his magic, or sent his shadow to do it, but he found himself crossing the room to welcome in his guest. Angel Dust stood on the other side of the wood, one set of hands clasped in front of his torso and the other set behind his back, looking… was he on edge? Nervous, perhaps? How odd.

It was common knowledge among the hotel’s residents that Angel Dust possessed the best fashion sense among them, but Alastor always found himself struck when he saw the other sinner in something he had never seen him wear before. The sheer aesthetic mastery he achieved with so little effort was frankly offensive. Tonight, it was a dress that was likely intended for galas or other evening events, elegant in its simplicity; it was a white dress—conforming perfectly to every curve on his body—with a square neckline that revealed the entire length of his clavacles and dipped low enough to expose his chest fluff, long sleeves that extended to the middle of his hands, and one slit that went all the way up to his hip. His makeup was understated, and the necklace was a simple teardrop diamond on a short, fine chain. So feminine, and yet, it would be impossible to mistake him for a woman.

Angel Dust simply looked…

“Come right in, my dear,” Alastor said, taking a step back and motioning for Angel Dust to enter, promptly silencing that line of thinking. He shut the door, locked it, and then (for good measure) cast a quick seal to double up on the usual sound proofing he kept on his personal sanctuary, should Charlie or Niffty discover what was happening and get any bright ideas about finding out more.

“Lettin’ me in yourself?” Angel Dust asked with a teasing edge to his voice, smiling at Alastor over his shoulder before he looked around the room.

“I thought you said I let you in last time.”

“You did,” Angel Dust said slowly. “But now you can’t argue with me.”

Alastor couldn’t help his soft laugh at the spider’s sheer cheek. He never passed up an opportunity to give a fellow sass, did he? “And you have no one but yourself to blame for whatever might befall you for stepping into the Radio Demon’s domain with the knowledge that he let you in himself.”

Angel Dust opened his mouth, then closed it. “…yeah. That’s fair.”

Alastor led him to the edge of the wooden flooring that had once led to nothing but a wall, but now opened into the thick and humid expanse of Louisiana bayou that he liked to bring with him wherever he went. There were two tables present: one smaller with two chairs and two place settings, and a larger one that bore the dishes he had toiled away preparing that afternoon.

“Oh! Right.” Angel Dust pulled a bottle of wine from behind his back and offered it to Alastor, his lips quirking. “Hope this is okay.”

“It’s lovely,” Alastor assured him, pulling out one of the chairs for him to sit. Angel Dust did so, looking a little proud of himself, and Alastor watched his face for a brief moment before turning away to open the wine and let it breathe. “So! I do hope you took my warning to heart, dear fellow. I’m fairly certain that many of these dishes are like nothing you’ve ever had before.”

“It smells good,” Angel Dust said, and Alastor felt those magenta eyes following him as he went to the other table. “You gonna tell me what you made?”

“After you’ve tried it.”

The meal went much better than Alastor had anticipated (even better still than he had planned). Many people had such limited palates, so often by their own choice, but Angel Dust showed a real eagerness to try things he’d never had before: Oysters Bienville with shrimp remoulade, crawfish and langoustine bisque, pompano en papillote with stuffed Mirliton, veal grillades and grits, dirty rice, and chocolate and lemon Doberge cake with café brûlot. He didn’t balk at a single offering, no matter how unfamiliar he was with any particular dish—he even giggled and applauded when Alastor lit the café brûlot on fire—and he gave a genuine compliment for each one that came only after careful consideration of a few bites. Alastor was very nearly charmed by the deep and thoughtful nature Angel Dust was revealing.

I’m afraid I truly did misjudge you, sha.

It was only over dessert and their coffee that conversation shifted from the food—what each dish was, what was in it, how it was made, when Alastor had learned to make it—when Angel Dust leaned two elbows on the table to tuck his hands under his chin and tilt his head at Alastor in curiosity.

“Hm?” Alastor picked up the bottle of wine and poured more for both of them; it didn’t exactly go with the food anymore, but Hell’s wine was strong and he wasn’t feeling particularly picky now that the presentation was over. “What is it?”

“What’s what?”

“You have something running around through that tricky little mind of yours. Don’t think I can’t see it.”

“Just thinking,” Angel Dust said thoughtfully. “Y’know… we’ve been livin’ in this hotel for a while. By now I know a fair bit of dirt on everybody who lives here… ‘cept you.”

Alastor raised an eyebrow at him. “I could easily say you know as much about me as most anyone else does.” Probably more. “I could also say there isn’t much to know.”

“I believe the first one.”

“Hah. Alright, I’ll play along. Why so curious?”

Angel Dust thought about it for a second before he picked up his wine in a third hand. “I dunno, really. I guess I find you interestin’.” Apparently, Alastor made some kind of face at that, because Angel Dust immediately laughed. “Oh, come on, you can’t think it’s that weird.”

“Interesting isn’t usually the word people use.” Alastor took a small sip of his wine, but it seemed like his dinner companion was waiting for him to elaborate, so he tilted his head and squinted his eyes. “What, precisely, would you like to know?”

“Hm. …I have an idea,” Angel Dust said, somewhat quixotically. “Y’like games, right, Smiles?”

“I don’t think I like where this is going,” Alastor said, his eyes only narrowing further.

“You will, you will,” Angel Dust said, waving one hand at him. “I know you like knowin’ shit. I don’t talk much about myself neither. So, how about this: I’ll ask you a question, and you can either answer it or refuse to. For every question you answer, I’ll answer somethin’ about me, no matter what it is. Sound fair?”

Alastor had to admit that he found himself intrigued. He was by means no expert when it came to interpersonal interactions and relationships, but he knew a proverbial brick wall when he saw one, and Angel Dust was impenetrable with his snark and his sarcasm and his deeply inappropriate comments. “…very well, I’ll accept, with the understanding that I don’t have to explain my refusal to answer.”

“Nah, y’don’t have to explain nothin’. So… you said your mother taught you how to cook, right? What was that like? I know you were born before me.”

Alastor contemplated before he set his glass down. “…it would have been… 1909 or 1910, I suppose,” he said. “My maman and I lived alone, just the two of us.”

“In… New Orleans,” Angel Dust said, like he was guessing.

Alastor was surprised to hear him pronounce it correctly, close enough to how a proper native would. “More specifically, a little village on the outside, but yes. I had no siblings and my father was… well. I have no idea!” Alastor said with a sharp and humorless grin. “Never met the man, very fortunate for him. In any case, she informed me she had no intention of doing all of the work, my ‘man of the house’ status be damned, and if I was going to be helping her with the housework then I might as well do it properly. She began teaching me how to cook her way. Quite the punishing taskmaster, I must say, but straight to the point. It was particularly fortunate, since she accurately predicted that I would never marry and I would have been quite helpless once I was on my own without her instruction.” Angel Dust was smiling at him. It was strange. Alastor took particular note of the way his cheeks pushed his eyes into the shape of a pleased cat’s. “What about you, sha? What was your little homestead like?”

Angel Dust made an irritated sound, rolling his eyes. “I was the youngest of three. My father was a mob boss, but he wasn’t, y’know, big league or anythin’. He and my mom were fuckin’ awful, always screamin’ at each other and us. And my older brother was a tool our whole childhood, up until he figured out how much our parents sucked. Only one I got along with in a regular way was my twin sister. It's no wonder I ran away from home.”

“Oh?” Alastor raised one eyebrow. “What spurred that on?”

“Pops found out I was a queer and decided the best place for me was an asylum. Y’know, to ‘get better’,” he said, making air quotes with his fingers and rolling his eyes. “And I said fuck that, so I left the state. Ended up goin’ back a year later, tho. How old were you when you started killin’ people?”

Alastor tilted his head, debating whether or not to answer. And then, to figure out which event truly qualified for the specific inquiry. “…thirteen, but that time, it was an accident. …mostly,” he amended with a wide grin. “Fifteen, the first time I did it with true intention. It was just so much fun that I kept it up until the day I died.”

“What, didja get caught?”

“Ah ah, that’s two questions,” Alastor said, shaking a finger at him. “This is your game, you know.”

“Yeah, you’re right, dammit.”

“Did your father send you to the asylum when you returned to New York?”

Angel Dust sighed. “Yeah,” he said, full of resignation. He picked up his fork and stabbed lightly at his piece of cake. “He was furious, sent me there straight away. Ended up bein’ stuck in there…” He hesitated, thinking, going a little cross-eyed in the effort. “…shit, sorry, I don’t remember it too good. Four years? Five? It was… ‘33 when I went in, and luckily they’d just discovered insulin shock therapy, so that was fun. Only had to put up with that for a bit, because they figured out cardiazol shock therapy pretty soon after.”

Alastor winced, feeling the alien pang of genuine sympathy. “How barbaric.”

Angel Dust smiled. “Well, I got released a couplea months after they heard about a fun new procedure comin’ outta Portugal.” He held his hands up and made an arc with them, like he was demonstrating a marquee. “The prefrontal lobotomy. Of course, they didn’t know what they were doin’, and they fucked it up. Went in gay, left gay and with a hole in my head, and a helluva lot meaner than I was goin’ in.”

“I see,” Alastor said thoughtfully. “That explains the…” He touched the spot under his own left eye.

“Yeah.” Angel Dust shrugged. “It was a long time ago, I’m over it. So didja get caught or what?”

Alastor sighed. “I was hoping you had forgotten your question.”

“Y’don’t have to answer, y’know.”

“I’m well aware.” Alastor contemplated just refusing, but something compelled him to speak. “Frankly it was much worse than that. I never was caught in my activities, not incarcerated once. My undoing was nothing more or less than dumb luck on the part of some buffoon of a hunter. He likely had no idea that I was there, and I doubt he ever suffered any sort of consequence.”

He bid the sound of the barking dogs to leave him be, the bitter shock that lasted less than a moment, and the desperation for a reason, rather than the suggestion that in the end, it did not matter how fiercely he took hold of his own fate.

Angel Dust tilted his head. “…I’d think even huntin’ accidents were takin’ seriously in the South.”

“Not when the one holding the gun was white.”

“Oh.” Angel Dust thought for a moment, then his eyes widened. “Ohhh. Shit. Creole. Right.”

Alastor’s smile was humorless. “Just another day in the shining utopia that is the home of the free.”

“Still bullshit.”

“I couldn’t agree more. You were Italian, you said? It must have been complicated for you, too, I remember hearing about the David Hennessy case.”

Angel Dust shrugged. “It was New York, it was… complicated. But I woulda stood out no matter my heritage. I was born with albinism, straight through. White hair, pale eyes, the whole thing. Woulda ended up in the circus if my family wasn’t rich.”

“So… you’re saying you haven’t changed much. Physically, I mean.”

“You got no clue how hard it was, adjusting to having four whole new arms.”

They kept on this way—Alastor granting Angel Dust comparatively minor details of his own life, and receiving something of a rant in exchange that made it sound like the spider had been dying to talk to someone about all of this—until it was surprisingly late indeed. They had moved to the chairs in front of the fireplace, Angel Dust curled up in a way that was somehow still remarkably elegant, even in that dress.

Both chairs were meant to be occupied, weren’t they? Or was the other always just a symbol, a reminder of what I may never have?

“…this isn’t related to the game, but… There is something else I am curious about,” Alastor said after a stretch of surprisingly comfortable silence. “You may, of course, refuse to answer.”

“Hm?” Angel Dust focused on him. “…okay. Hit me.”

“It’s about your work.” He saw Angel Dust stiffen, just a little, but continued on anyway. “I was wondering how someone like you, fiercely independent and outspoken as you are, ended up working for someone like Valentino, of all sinners.”

Angel Dust sighed, tilting his head against the curve of the chair and looking at the fireplace. His gaze carried them far away, the empty green glow casting his companion in an eerie light that made Alastor’s stomach turn. “…a series of bad decisions that didn’t seem unreasonable at the time,” he said. “I mostly made my way in Hell hookin’ or performin’ in skeezy clubs, when I could get gigs. Sometimes I managed to get drag shows, those were my favorite. And I always liked bein’ on stage, it wasn’t somethin’ I really got to do in life.”

He stopped for a moment, and Alastor let him think. He couldn’t help wondering if anyone else had ever spoken to him about his earliest days in Hell… besides his friend Cherri Bomb, most likely. That was the sort of thing close chums discussed, right? Or did they focus solely on the party life? Perhaps he could inquire about that later.

“…Val saw one of my shows pretty soon after he joined Vox, before they were actually the Vees. Dunno what he was even doin’ there, he was an overlord and somethin’ of a celebrity in the sex work circuit. Everybody wanted to impress him, y’know? If Valentino thinks you’re worth somethin’, you could find yourself with real, steady work, maybe even in his new porn industry. And we all wanted that, y’know? It was…” Angel Dust contemplated his words. “…it felt safer,” he amended, and though he didn’t elaborate, Alastor couldn’t begin to imagine what sort of dangers and indignities could befall someone in that career. If Valentino felt like a safer option, it had to be more foul than even Alastor had imagined. “He stayed for my show, and he wanted to talk to me after. Said it wasn’t the first time he’d seen me. Said he liked me.”

Alastor could picture it quite viscerally: Valentino using his power and influence to manipulate a weaker sinner, Angel Dust hopeful and desperate and comparatively naive. He found his dislike of the moth growing more targeted, and steadily more intense as he listened.

“He offered me a job, and it was a good offer… or, at least, better than any I’d ever had before. And I was… taken with him,” Angel Dust said, his tone caught somewhere between wistful and disgusted with himself. “He was very charmin’ in those days. I guess he knew I could have left at any time, and he wanted to make sure I didn’t do that. He bought me clothes, he gave me a beautiful bedroom, he got Fat Nuggets for me… I guess I thought I was in love with him.”

Alastor’s claws sank into the arm of his chair, popping through the cloth to dig into the stuffing and the wooden frame beneath. Angel Dust didn’t appear to notice, even as Alastor’s teeth gritted hard enough for the Radio Demon to hear it.

“I still dunno why, exactly, I signed my soul over. Thought it was a good idea at the time, but I couldn’t have given you a real reason, even back then. After that, I guess Val didn’t feel he had to behave himself anymore. I mean, he was still charmin’ as long as he was happy with me, but he didn’t have to be nice when I wasn’t doin’ what he wanted like he did before. And by the time I figured out I didn’t have a choice no more, it was way too fuckin’ late.”

Angel Dust’s silence was more final than before, and far more contemplative. He had his elbow on the arm of the chair and his chin in his hand as he stared at the fireplace; Alastor couldn’t remember ever seeing him so melancholy, and he was struck by the image for two reasons. First, he found it hard to believe that Angel Dust was comfortable showing that level of emotional vulnerability in front of him, of all people… and second, he didn’t like seeing Angel Dust’s sadness, and it made something deep inside him want to rip whatever was causing that sadness into a thousand bloody pieces.

“You deserve far better than him,” Alastor said quietly, his usual crackle vanishing from his voice. “You always did.”

Angel Dust exhaled sharply, the ghost of a derisive laugh. “Do I?” he asked, glancing at Alastor. Something that he saw in the Radio Demon’s face gave him pause, and he sat up a little. “…thanks. For sayin’ that, I mean,” he said in a more serious tone. “I guess you don’t know anythin’ about breakin’ out of a soul contract, do you, Smiles?”

Alastor’s smile felt more ironic on his face than it usually did. “No, sha, I do not.”

“I was afraid of that.” Angel Dust sighed, then smiled. “It’s okay. It is,” he said insistently when Alastor opened his mouth. “I don’t believe it’ll last forever. I can’t. And one day, I won’t have to worry about Val anymore.”

“I think you’re right.”

Their conversation redirected, but the topic cast a heaviness over the last few minutes before Angel Dust left. Despite the air, he thanked Alastor for the evening in a manner so sincere that Alastor couldn’t question it, and when the spider smiled, there was a gentle glow in the magenta of his eyes that told the Radio Demon that he was…

…happy?

Was Angel Dust somehow happy, even now, even after talking at such length about his boss… even while alone with Alastor in his room?

He couldn’t imagine such a thing to be possible, and he would have dismissed it as ridiculous… if not for that soft, warm glow in his eyes.

Alastor went back to his chair and sent his shadow after Angel Dust; it followed him to his door, then stopped right outside it once the spider had gone in. Through the strange channels that connected him to the shadowy form, he heard Angel Dust walking around his room, humming softly to himself—Dream A Little Dream, an old standard Alastor knew well—and telling his hellpig that he had a good time.

“Dammit, Nuggs,” Angel Dust whispered beyond the door, “what am I gonna do? He’s so—”

Alastor dismissed the shadow before he lost his self control and sent it in to properly spy on the other sinner… or worse, found out what Angel Dust was about to say he ‘was so’. Once the shadow was back where it belonged, firmly attached to his feet, he sat and picked at the loose, torn threads in the arm of his chair and wondered when it was that he started wanting so fervently to add Valentino’s voice to his unearthly radio chorus.

•••

Angel couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was, but something had shifted between him and Alastor after their dinner together.

He couldn’t tell if it was positive or negative, either, because Alastor seemed to be wrestling with how he felt about their interactions at all. Over the next two days, Angel saw Alastor three times: every single one of them, Alastor greeted him with undue enthusiasm, and then promptly remembered that he had something pressing to handle and excused himself. Even with that, Angel couldn’t believe that Alastor was mad at him, mostly because he wasn’t behaving like he was angry or even annoyed.

He also wasn’t acting like nothing had changed, so Angel didn’t know what to make of it.

“Off to work, Angel?” Vaggie asked as Angel picked up the pen to sign out in the ledger on the hotel counter. She was focused on what looked like the hotel’s books, flipping slowly through them as though she was less working and more reading.

“Yep. What can I say, it was a nice few days off,” Angel said casually, trying not to let it show just how uncomfortable he was with the idea of seeing Valentino again.

The harpy angel glanced up at him, her expression serious. Angel blinked twice, wondering if he was about to get beaten up; he and Vaggie had never really gotten along, and despite the fact that they rarely fought anymore, he never knew what to expect from her. “Are you…” She stopped herself, thought for a moment, and he could actually see her decide to go through with it. “Are you getting yourself into trouble, chico?”

“What?” Angel blinked twice at her. “Absolutely not! I ain’t doin’ shit.”

“Yeah,” Vaggie said flatly, her one eye half lidded. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed that something is going on. You’re acting weird. So is Alastor. So are Husk and Niffty. And yeah, fine, you’re all always weird, but this is different.”

Angel felt his mask dropping, and fought to keep it on. “Don’t worry about me, Vags, I’m fine. I ain’t gettin’ myself into anythin’ I can’t handle.”

Vaggie rolled her eye. “I don’t think that’s ever been true, but fine. Whatever. Just…” She exhaled on a frustrated huff, stirring her bangs. “…if you need anything, or whatever… you can come talk to me.”

Angel frowned at the offer. “I’m not gonna compromise Charlie’s project. Don’t worry.”

“That isn’t why I’m offering.” Vaggie didn’t elaborate, going back to the books. “Try to have a good time at work.”

“…uh. Yeah. Right. …thanks.” Angel stared at her for another few seconds, but she didn’t look up, so he was left to wonder what the fuck that was all about as he headed out of the hotel and made his way to VoxTek.

Nothing felt different as he passed through the lobby and into a door marked ‘Employees Only’, and Angel wondered if that was proof that he was just being paranoid, or if there really was something legitimately wrong. Nobody spoke differently to him, and he returned the friendly greetings he got as he headed for the elevators and took one up to the 17th floor, which was entirely devoted to Valentino’s pornography department.

“Oh, thank fuck, you’re here,” Wire, Travis’s PA, said the instant he walked into the studio. Her depressed and ‘weight of the world’ hunch was more pronounced than usual, white hair curtained haphazardly around her face, her obsidian skin greyed from exhaustion and her white eyes somehow looking bloodshot, even with their black sclera. “Today is going to be weird and I need you, and everyone else, to please not act like it’s weird.”

“Oh, goodie,” Angel said flatly, removing his sunglasses and gesturing loosely with them. “Val in a mood today?”

“I… have no idea.” Wire tapped all fourteen of her fingers on the back of her clipboard with a rattling click like an overexcited centipede. “I… none of us have seen him today. He isn’t going to be here.”

Angel stared at her, his mind blanking for just a moment. “He’s… why?” Valentino had never not been present for one of Angel’s shoots in his entire career.

Wire shrugged, peering up through her curtain of hair. “We weren’t told. Just that Vox is standing in for him today.”

“Wha— Vox?!” Angel squeaked. “What the fuck?”

“That was our question. I have your scripts for tonight,” she said, pulling some papers off her clipboard and holding them out. “Wardrobe’s already got your stuff laid out in your dressing room, and hair and makeup is ready whenever you are. Try to make it fifteen, we’re sticking as close to schedule today as we can.”

“…yeah. Okay.”

Angel headed for his dressing room and picked up the first costume that had been laid out for him. It was very particularly placed, and immediately, Angel saw why; the black and deep crimson material was about eighty percent straps, black leather that wound up both legs to his hips and up all four arms from the middle of his hands to a few inches from his shoulders, as well as his waist. The dress wasn’t a dress, but material that went over his head and hung down his front and back with absolutely no attachments at the sides, instead held in place by the waist wrapping. Chains hung from his wrists, from a choker around his neck, and around his exposed hips, the look completed with a wide hood that hung across his exposed shoulders and held an inverted pentagram at the top that hung across his forehead.

Angel carefully pulled the black and crimson attire on—it wasn’t often that he got to wear black, let alone something this interesting, which he had to attribute to Vox and his obsession with aesthetics—and tried not to think of Alastor as he picked up the three props that had been left for him: a grimoire that contained what seemed to be his most significant lines and some fake seals and sigils with obvious sex imagery, a wicked-looking dagger with a long, curved blade, and a black dildo with a fairly simple shape. Stepping into black heeled boots, Angel picked up his script pages in his free hand and headed back into the main part of the studio.

It was colder than it usually was; Valentino insisted on keeping the studio almost sweltering for his own personal comfort, but… thinking about it, Angel wasn’t positive Vox could feel temperature. Or perhaps his machine parts would overheat? He sat in the chair that had been prepped for him and said hello to the hair and makeup team before going over the script while they worked.

It wasn’t too unusual of a scenario: sexy cultist summons otherworldly entity, uses it for his own pleasure until he loses control, entity takes over, quickest mind break in history. The dialogue was better than the usual scripts, and Angel begrudgingly attributed that to Vox as well, though he wouldn’t tell the CEO that; then again, Vox did serve as scriptwriting consultant on basically all of the company’s best-rated shows, so he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Ah, hello, Angel Dust! How are you this evening?”

Speak of the Devil and he shall appear.

“Hey, Vox,” Angel said, turning his head enough to look up at the man himself, standing only a short distance away, wearing that smile that made him so popular among Hell’s housewife demographic. Recognizing immediately that they were playing this as chill and normal as was necessary for the company image, Angel favored him with a lazy, seductive smile. “Just goin’ over the pages for the first shoot. Yours, I take it? It’s gonna be a nice change, workin’ with one of your scripts. We don’t get to do that much here.”

“So glad to hear you approve!” Vox said with that telecaster brightness, placing his hands on his waist. “It’s been a while since I’ve been on this end of production. I’m very much looking forward to seeing Valentino’s department at work.”

Angel turned his head and tipped his face up slightly, opening his eyes and rolling them back as one of the team (he couldn’t tell who in this position) applied eyeliner to his waterline, enough that it would definitely run when he cried. “I was surprised when I heard Val wasn’t gonna be here today,” he said; he knew Vox could tell he was fishing, but he kept his flirtatious voice firmly in place regardless. “I hope he’s okay?”

“Oh, you know Val,” Vox said, which told Angel nothing. A few moments later, his hair and makeup were done, and Vox continued, “Would you ladies excuse us for a moment? I need to speak with Angel.”

The team scattered immediately, clearly glad to be out of the immediate range of Vox’s awareness. Angel didn’t blame them—he would have really liked to follow them to the other side of the studio—but he kept his seat, raising his eyes to meet Vox’s in the mirror when he felt the other sinner step up behind him.

Again.

“What’s up, Mister Boss Man?” Angel asked, glad his voice came out steady.

Vox considered him in the mirror, silently, and once again Angel was struck with the idea that Vox was evaluating him the same way he would do to a piece of art or furniture he was considering purchasing or, more accurately, one his spouse had chosen to decorate with and he hadn’t decided if he liked it or not yet. Valentino terrified Angel more than anyone had ever met, but no one—no one—had ever made Angel feel like an object more than Vox.

Vox’s face was strange in the mirror. When just looking at Vox, it was sometimes hard to remember that his face was a magical digital projection and not an actual, tangible thing; but in the reflection, Angel could see the minor artifacting on his screen, tiny pixels that flickered at the corners of his eyes when he blinked or the edge of his mouth when it moved. It was unnerving.

Vox leaned over him, placing his hands on the arm rests of his chair and functionally trapping him against the makeup station vanity. His smile was still in place, but his words and tone no longer matched it. Overhead, a fluorescent light flickered with an electric buzz, casting the two of them into odd shadows for a moment. “I’m not sure what, precisely, you did to Valentino,” he said quietly, “but I suggest you don’t do it again.”

Angel suddenly felt cold. “I… whaddya mean?”

“I mean, Valentino is currently not allowed to be in the studio with you, because I’m not positive he won’t kill you next time he sees you. He was very angry the last few times I’ve spoken with him.”

The light flickered again, more violently, and Angel swallowed painfully as he racked his brain to try and come up with what, exactly, it was that he had done wrong. “I… I don’t…”

“At the moment, my presence here is currently protection for you. If you give me a reason, any reason at all, I will rescind that protection and leave you to deal with Valentino alone. Am I clear, Angel Dust?”

“Y… yes, Vox,” Angel said weakly, tearing his eyes from the mirror to stare at the vanity’s table top. “I won’t. I promise.”

“Good.” Vox straightened, and out of the corner of his eye, Angel saw his hand moving to grab Angel’s shoulder with threatening, electric blue claws. Just before he made contact, the light that had been flickering on and off burst with a loud, sharp pop that sent glass and filament to the floor where it shattered further against the wood. Nearby, at the same moment, a camera short-circuited with a buzz and a few smaller pops that preceded a thin trail of smoke leaking from the metal seams of the casing.

“Oh, what the fuck,” Vox muttered under his breath, withdrawing to find someone to sweep up and fix the camera. Angel didn’t wait, sliding out of the chair and grabbing his props and script before he hurried towards the set. He only got a few steps away before he hesitated, then turned, looking back to where the camera was still smoking and a stagehand was hurriedly sweeping up the broken light.

There wasn’t anything else there, but…

Angel shook the feeling off and turned again. He needed to focus. He needed to work. He needed to make sure Vox stayed happy with him, because if whatever had soured Valentino’s mood to the point that Vox himself felt the need to intervene… well, then, their CEO was right. Valentino probably would kill him.

•••

This had been a very bad idea.

Calm down.

There was nothing for it now, of course. He had already committed, and he wasn’t about to leave now that he knew the situation.

Of course, Alastor was not—strictly speaking—actually inside VoxTek’s studio. It wasn’t that he had any compunctions about going into Vox’s territory, nor did he have any fear, but Charlie had made it quite clear what had happened the last time a resident of the hotel had shown up at Angel Dust’s place of employment and attempted to meddle with his work. Alastor had no intention of making things more difficult for the little spider; he was simply… curious.

Their conversation from two nights earlier had been going through Alastor’s mind in a way that the words of others usually didn’t. Typically, Alastor simply filed things he learned about others in the annals of his exceptional memory, only bringing those details up when they were relevant. Angel Dust, however, was proving himself to be something of a persistent little… irritant? He supposed that was the right word, because for some reason, he found himself concerned with the other sinner returning to his place of employment alone and unattended. Of course, it wasn’t completely nonsensical; the Vees were inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, yes, but they were very determined, and even Alastor couldn’t deny that their methodology had become shockingly effective and efficient. If they said they would ‘fix a problem’, Alastor had no doubt that they would do their level best to be a pain in his neck, and that was an amusing little distraction that sounded neither little nor amusing.

Besides, they possessed the contract for Angel Dust’s soul, and what kind of hotelier would he be if he left the spider to fend for himself in such exceptionally unfair circumstances?

That was, in short, how Alastor found himself bidding his shadow to depart from the Hazbin Hotel and make its way to VoxTek. His physical form stayed comfortable and warm in his room, seated before his fireplace, but his mind and awareness was entirely placed within the tenebrous form that slipped from shadow to shadow until it reached the studio where Angel Dust made the lion’s share of his money.

Seeing Vox was… a surprise, to say the least; he assumed this would be beneath him, but then, assuming anything was beneath Vox was giving the other overlord too much credit. But seeing how he interacted with Angel Dust…

Alastor had thought many things about Angel Dust over the time they had known each other, but never once had he thought he would see the spider so… cowed. He looked small and frightened as Vox imposed himself over his chair with that poisoned smile and his murmured threats, and Alastor wondered: if this was the effect Vox had on him, how much worse was the hand of the one who held his leash?

Normally, such an open display of weakness would anger Alastor or, at the absolute least, frustrate him. But knowing Angel Dust the way he was beginning to, and knowing that he only feared those he had been given true reason to fear…

Alastor felt anger, yes. But it was not at Angel Dust.

The light exploding was an unfortunate mishap. The camera was slightly more intentional, mostly because it would probably be annoying and expensive to fix, but when he saw Vox about to lay his hand on the spider’s shoulder, he felt a spike of rage that he couldn’t contain. It did, at least, have the positive side effect of separating them, but the way Angel Dust turned to look back at the shadows made Alastor wonder if he’d been caught out. He briefly considered aborting this mission and returning his awareness to himself, because in truth, he wasn’t sure why he was here at all.

Then, the other sinner went to his set, and Alastor stayed. He wondered if he would regret not taking the opportunity to leave when he presented it to himself.

Stagehands scuttled about the set, getting everything ready for the shoot, and despite Alastor’s utter disdain for anything related to picture shows he could not deny an interest in the process of their creation. Most of those who made them were, after all, artists; the fact that their product was worthless did not change their capacity for creativity or their skill. When Alastor had first been getting to know the hotel’s residents, he had examined quite a number of Angel Dust’s pornographic films, and he’d found them almost unbearably dull… save one detail that seemed consistent throughout the entire catalogue: Angel Dust could act, and he could act well. Even when the script was unbearable garbage, he sold the scenario through either commitment or through playing up how absolutely absurd it was, and Alastor could tell when he was adlibbing because the dialogue suddenly improved dramatically.

Alastor wanted to see his working process. He wanted to watch him at his craft, no matter how pathetic the final product was. That was the way you got to know an artist, after all, and maybe… maybe through knowing his art, Alastor would begin to understand why Angel Dust had burrowed his way into the Radio Demon’s mind.

“Alright, everyone, let’s get focused,” Vox called to the room at large, cutting through Alastor’s thoughts in the most unpleasant way possible. He let his shadow drift closer to where Vox sat beside an avian-like sinner with black feathers and a heart-shaped iris; Travis, likely, if Alastor was remembering Angel Dust’s complaints accurately. Vox leaned closer to Travis, speaking in a low voice. “Let’s try to keep this to one take, wardrobe says the costume isn’t designed to be torn up more than once.”

Travis gave his boss the nod of the sycophant and raised his bullhorn, calling out over the studio in a strange and tinny voice. “We’re on single take mode, people! We’re down a camera, so you other three, keep that in mind when you’re covering shots! And I swear to fuck, Lars, if that boom mic shows up in one more shot I am shoving it up yer ass. Quiet on set!”

It was, admittedly, a bit fascinating to be on this side of the proceedings. The actual set seemed small for something that Alastor knew, logically, would look enough like a real outdoor location on film. The rest of the room was cast in darkness, the floor covered in heavy cables and so many people holding cameras or sound equipment, positioning lights, or just standing and watching.

The set itself looked like a night scene in the middle of a forest clearing. A large stone altar dominated the center—for the requisite fornication, Alastor presumed—with an actual fire lit in the foreground. Angel Dust knelt between the fire and the altar, the yellow-orange light of the flame casting shadows across his face and body that seemed even starker from the false silvery-blue moonlight cast by the can lights overhead. They had even managed to cast the illusion of shadowy tree branches across the floor, lending the scene an eerie sort of atmosphere that Alastor could appreciate.

“Okay, Angel baby,” Travis said, and Angel Dust looked up from the open book he held in two hands. “The lines ya got in yer book are the most important. Feel free to improv around whatever else, just give the deal-makers what they wanna see. Rocky, you ready?”

As Angel Dust nodded his acknowledgment, Alastor saw a large and furry paw rise up from behind the altar and give a thumbs up. “Ready!” a deep voice called.

“Good. Alright, people, we’re on in ten!”

As Travis counted down, Alastor watched Angel Dust close his eyes, roll his head, then let it hang, his hood covering his face with fabric and shadow. When the director called action, everything went silent in the room, save for the ambient noise of a gentle breeze rustling through tree leaves and the occasional sound of some animal out in the night.

Angel Dust kept his head down for several seconds, then slowly raised his face, his expression the somber and serious look of one who knew—or, at least, thought they knew—how dangerous the task they were about to undertake was. When he spoke, his Brooklyn accent had all but disappeared, temporarily abandoned in favor of a neutral tone that was softer and rounder but somehow still quintessentially him.

“To the Air of the North, I call upon thee: a sacrifice for the breath of Azazel in the domain of Egyn.”

The chains around Angel Dust’s wrists jingled softly, ominously, as he reached up with one hand and delicately twisted his fingers through a few strands of the hair-like fur at his crown. He pulled the strands free with a small gasp that was likely intended to spark the idea of eroticism, and Alastor could appreciate that, coupled with the brief and tiniest pinch at the corners of his eyes. He dropped the fur into the fire, where it caught with a bright blue spark and disappeared almost as quickly.

A summoning, Alastor thought, the scenario reminding him of a time quite long ago. The shadow was not his body, but even so, the realization made him feel as though a shiver passed across his skin.

“To the Fire of the South, I call upon thee: a sacrifice for the flames of Samael in the domain of Amaymon.”

Angel Dust reached into the fluff at his chest, which was apparently much thicker than Alastor had guessed, as he produced a small leather pouch tied with a cord from somewhere within it. With two hands, he opened the pouch, then tossed a pinch of whatever was inside into the fire; it caught with a spark and a loud hiss, and through the shadow, Alastor could smell saffron and ginseng.

“To the Earth of the East, I call upon thee: a sacrifice for the ground of Mahazael in the domain of Oriens.”

Now, Angel Dust’s voice was trembling, and his breath shook as he held one hand out. Slowly, he raised a curved, sharp dagger, one that looked specially designed for ritual work, and placed the blade against his open palm. He closed his fingers around it, his face losing its confidence in favor of trepidation and fear. Alastor could hear the rate of his breath increasing as he worked himself up, and then all at once, he truly did slice his hand open with a cry that was almost a high pitched moan. The black blood of the sinner, glittering with a red sheen in the firelight, poured from the wound on his palm and into the fire for a brief moment before it began to taper off. The only sounds Alastor could hear were the small, whispered hisses of the blood splattering the burning wood, and the shaken breath of the sinner as he gathered himself to finish his ritual. Angel Dust clenched his bloody hand into a fist and pressed it to his chest, smearing his chest fluff with black that gleamed red, and Alastor could not look away.

“To… the Water of the West… I call upon thee: a sacrifice for the rivers of Azrael… in the domain… of Paimon.”

Angel Dust swallowed with an audible click, then closed his eyes as he unclenched his bloody hand and held it out, his fingers wet and trembling. Alastor could see the fear and determination on his face as he braced himself, then thrust his hand into the fire. Angel Dust’s scream was a howl of pain that married with ecstasy, his fangs bared as he threw his head back and cried out to the false sky for relief that would not be granted.

It was the most beautiful sound Alastor had ever heard.

The fire turned a bright purple, then it seemed to dissipate upwards, swirling from the firewood and into the air before it vanished in a cloud of pale smoke.

Gasping with pain and the exertion of his ritual, Angel Dust clasped his now burned hand to his chest—was it an effect, or had he really hurt himself for authenticity?—and looked around with wide eyes that glowed a deep magenta in the loss of the firelight. He swallowed again, slowly gaining control over his breathing, and waited, but nothing appeared to be happening.

“…fuck,” Angel Dust whispered, turning to his book and flipping frantically through it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…! No, it was right, I know it was right…!” His voice slowly raised until he got to his feet, still holding his injured hand close to himself as he looked around with a manic sort of desperation. “Where are you…?!” he shouted at nothing. “I know you’re there, I know you can hear me! I paid your price, and you will obey me!!” His voice pitched into a scream, cracking just a little, and echoed through the studio so much the same as it would through a forest clearing.

For a moment, there was nothing but Angel Dust’s breath. Then, there was a crack, like a bone or the branch of a tree snapping, and the spider tensed. Another cracking followed, and then another, as a deep red light slowly illuminated the space behind the altar from the ground. A figure began rising up behind Angel Dust, clawed hands grabbing hold of the altar to pull a body broader and taller than the spider up from what seemed like a deep pit.

Angel Dust began turning with wide, terrified eyes as the figure continued to rise, standing to his full height and towering over the one that had summoned him. The demon stood in sharp silhouette, furred and muscular with great horns and a deep, growling pant as he stared down at Angel Dust.

“Who dares to summon me?” he asked in a deep, guttural voice, one that seemed to rattle through Angel Dust’s body by the way he shuddered.

“Your new master,” Angel Dust said, his voice gaining a confidence and bravado that began to carry into his posture. “You are now bound to me, creature, as a slave to his goddess, and you will do as I command.”

The demon laughed, a low and unnerving chuckle that would have made the fur along Alastor’s spine stand up if he truly stood in the same space. “You presume to command me?” He was slowly walking around the altar, but Angel Dust met him at the foot of it and placed his bloody and burned hand on the demon’s chest. He froze with a startled gasp, and Angel Dust smirked wide and sharp as his glowing eyes narrowed. Then, with a motion that looked graceful and delicate, he pushed the creature backwards onto the altar.

As the large demon landed on his back, Angel Dust used all the arachnid grace his body possessed to climb up onto the stone and crawl over the supine figure. His smile was growing into something different, something at once crazed and enticing and perhaps what was known as erotic, his legs spreading to straddle the larger creature’s hips and his two lower hands pressing against his chest to keep him down.

Alastor felt a sudden and alien sort of desperation to know what sort of action or word or dance could draw that smile out of Angel Dust without the compulsion of performance.

The spider leaned forward on his lower hands, arcing his back and stretching his upper set of arms over his head in a display slow and languid, his hand smearing blood along the leather strapping that hid so much of his skin and fur. “I paid your price,” Angel Dust repeated, his voice no longer a panicked scream, but a low purr that sent a strange sort of pulsing sensation along the memory of Alastor’s skin. “And now, you will service me, creature.”

Angel Dust rolled his hips in a manner that seemed too rough and violent to be typical of pornography, and the creature grunted with equal pain and pleasure. He moved as though he was going to sit up, but Angel Dust was quicker, and like a spider hunting its prey, he grabbed the creature by his horns and forced his head back down onto the stone as he bore over him in a beautiful and lithe arch. Alastor could feel the flesh around his own antlers tingling as Angel Dust, with that same smile, opened his mouth and ran his tongue along the ridges of the striped horn.

It was here that Alastor had expected to lose interest and planned to take his leave, but the sight of Angel Dust, masking such obvious fear with a guise of control and power, burned and bleeding and armed with that dagger, transfixed him. The spider rolled his hips against the beast’s pelvis again, his head falling back and his breath leaving in a slow hiss, as though he was content to take his pleasure at his own leisure.

But the demon beneath him had other plans, and Alastor’s own breath shuddered as a large and clawed hand suddenly grabbed the chain around Angel Dust’s throat and yanked. With a fluidity he should not have possessed, the creature switched their positions, now kneeling between the spider’s spread legs as he lay sprawled on the altar.

“What—?! No!” Angel Dust shouted, a note of panic in his voice as his eyes widened. “You can’t do this!”

“Then stop me, little one,” the creature growled with a low laugh. Angel Dust bared his teeth and raised his hand with the dagger, but before he could stab the beast, his wrist was caught in one of those powerful hands and slammed down onto the stone top of the altar above his head. Angel Dust cried out in unmistakable arousal, his fingers dropping the dagger over the side of the stone where it fell to the ground out of reach.

“No, stop it…!” Angel Dust’s protests were weaker now; it should have been enough to take Alastor out of the moment, and yet, he could do nothing but stare as the beast somehow attached the chains around his wrists to the altar, spreading his arms and leaving his body vulnerable. “Release me!”

“You and I both know you don’t want that.” The beast grabbed the front of Angel Dust’s robe and ripped, claws tearing the fabric to ribbons as he pulled most of it free from his body. Angel Dust cried out as he was exposed, his back arching off the stone and his head turning to the side. “You will not escape me.”

Panting, Angel Dust narrowed those glowing eyes at him, cheek still pressed to the stone. At the same time, his lips curved into that sharp, crazed smirk again.

“Do your worst.”

Alastor paid no more attention to the beast. He could not look away from Angel Dust’s face, every twitch of pain and every cry of pleasure, the way he grimaced with gritted teeth and the way he exhaled so breathily as his lips spread into a wide and wanton smile, his body shuddering with barely-controlled ecstasy as he was thrust into again and again. His cries, his screams of “yes” and “more” and “fuck me”, his desperate and agonized begging…

Alastor was barely aware that he was losing control of his grasp on his shadow until he found himself staring at the floor of his own bedroom, his claws digging new grooves into the arms of his chair and his teeth clenched so hard he could hear his jaw creak. His antlers had grown and were heavy on his hanging head, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth and his entire body trembling as his shadow spasmed erratically on the floor and the wall, stretched long and misshapen, just too far from his own body to be called attached.

Alastor’s mind was a blank sheet of radio static that echoed through his bedroom, the pitch shifting wildly and sharply, one particularly high and powerful screech cracking the glass face of the clock on his mantle. Those sounds stayed on the periphery of his awareness, his mind focused on nothing but the image of Angel Dust, crazed and bloody and lost in the throes of violent passion that felt so, so much different in reality than it had on celluloid.

It took what seemed to be a small eternity for him to calm himself, his claws slowly pulling themselves from the wood frame of the chair, his antlers gradually receding to their normal size. His breathing was heavy, labored, like he had just been running for hours, his body exhausted from the foreign pressure of a restraint that he hadn’t shown in nearly a century, a thin bead of sweat running from his hairline just above his temple and trailing along his jaw.

Alastor was aware, on some level, that he had an erection. It was the third he’d ever had in his existence, and the first ever caused by anything besides a strictly physiological hormone shift.

He couldn’t think about it.

If he thought about it, he would lose himself again.

Angel Dust.

Strange little spider. Foolish, undisciplined, crude, clever, bright, silly, strange little spider.

Who are you, really?

What have you done to me?

•••

[xamaxenta]

Fem dragon tall (still taller than croc) short cropped hair (natural born contrarian when it came to gender norms)

Low rise jeans gal, no bra usually a cut up band t-shirt and leather jacket. (Punk rock) smudgy eyeshadow and sometimes remembers chapstick (prefers steel toed boots but will wear combat boots) kinda like a scarecrow, can see her ribcage under her collar bone in certain lighting but her forearms are still jacked

Fem crocodile business Attire, pencil skirts and collared shirts, perfect makeup red lipstick stiletto heels and a matching set of lingerie under every outfit (personally tailored for her measurements.) thicc, got some tum from the estrogen and a lot of ass and tits

Dragon is tall, everyone has been telling her that since she was 10 years old. She’s tall for a girl with big shoulders for a girl. Sometimes she thinks it would be better just to be a man, to cut off her breasts and be done with it.

But not tonight.

No not tonight, a breathy chuckle floats into her ear while clever fingers tug and roll the bar in her nipple.

“Still not wearing bras I see.”

Dragon moans half in pleasure half in exasperation, cracking an eye to look at the beautiful creature before her.

“Still ruining the mood.”

The proprietor of rain dinners snorted rolling onto dragon, her half hard cock digging into dragons hip.

Crocodile leaned in, close enough dragon could taste the nicotine. Smell the eucalyptus. “If the mood is ruined why are you still here huh?.”

With that the she devil took dragons nipple into her mouth, sucking and licking. It was such an odd sensation, but so damn good.

“Fuck fuck fuck.”

Dragon reached down and unceremoniously shoved a couple fingers into her cunt. “Fuck wani.”

“Should get you pregnant.” Croocidle murmured switching to the opposite breast. “Love to see you try to be all stoic When your tits are leaking.”

Dragon gasps as crocodile shifts the head of her cock grinding it tantalizingly close to her clit.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you.” She panted, canting her hips to catch the cock head. “You’d like to see me make a fool of myself.”

“Oh yes.” Came the purr, sharp canines glinting as crocodile leaned in their lips meeting in what seemed less of a kiss and more of an open bite, teeth clacking together. “What a fool you’d be, I’d keep you in my bed wrapped in the finest silk sheets. You’d look lovely in gold

But you wouldn’t take it would you,

So I’d have to bring you obscure books and maps to keep you happy.”

Dragon groaned unable to obtain the friction she wanted, she planted a hand and roughly, chaotically flipped them over. Now Straddling crocodile.

At this advantage, dragon could do what she wished.

Begin torturing her beloved desert king.

Rocking forward just enough to keep crocodile wanted, she moaned into the younger woman’s ear. “Tell me more

How else would you keep me wani.”

“Chess and tea-“ the rest of

Got lost in a moan as dragon sunk down on the woman’s cock. Rolling her hips as she fondled the generous breasts that lay before her.

“I would court you, properly. With games

Of chess, everyday. The eastern tea you adore. Then when you said yes. I’d take you to bed.”

“Wani we are in bed right now.”

“Not like this.” A ring studded hand gripped her hip tightly.

“I’d take you to bed until you were carrying child.”

“Your child.”

Crocodile looked dreamily at her, “our child, my desert star. How you would shine in bearing. I would not be able to keep my hands off you.”

Dragon slowed the roll

Of her hips until she had stopped completely. “Yeah ok.”

“Ok?”

Dragon shrugged “yeah let’s have a kid.”

So this started as like sugar mommy dom and ended as luffys origin story so idk man

The words took me and crocodiles breeding kink

PLEASE 😭🙏🏽 shoveleligng this into my mouth and brain at light speed

I eeread this three times in quick sucession

DESERT STAR??? Thats unfathomably romantic of them 😩 who does crocodile think she is

And THE MUTUAL PET ADORATION OF “desert king” nice… so sexy of them theyre such a smokeshow couple why do gotta go and make things so cumplicated

Luffy does need siblings yknow 🥺🥺🥺

My brain is burning over matching lingerie tailored to the figure and chess games and the seduction of nicotine kisses… aaAAAHAIGDSJHED

[romanarose]

Congrats again bb, and no pressure for this one if you’re overwhelmed but I think it’d be cute if we could pls see a scene (LaL) where one of them has like pre wedding jitters or something and how they deal with it

HI BABBYYYYYYYY

Jitters

Leather and Lace

Takes place after Take Your Time but before For the Longest Time. Before Laci and Santi go through their rough patch (which don't worry to anyone who read lal but not the others, they are totally okay.) Laci and Santi are engaged.

Warnings: Insecurity, references to Laci'spast sexual trauma, addiction, domestic violence, bad life before Santi. mentions of miscarriage and potential fertility troubles,

****************

Santi could always tell when Laci needed him. Always. Whether in person, away from each other, it didn't matter. Laci liked to say that's why he took the mission that lead him to her in the first place, he knew she needed him. Santi didn't believe in all that, but he did like that he had this intuition. Even when it woke him up.

"Ah!" Santi startles awake, eyes wide to find his pretty fiance staring at him. Lacina was propped up with her head on on her arm, just watching him, he Ghost Face night light illuminating her. "Jesus Lace, you scared me."

"Oh, so my face is scary, is it?" Laci teased with a smile.

"Nope, prettiest thing I've seen in my life" Santi pouted his lips.

Laci got the hint, leaning in to press a kiss to him.

"You aright, munaquita?"

She binked. "You really wanna marry me?"

Santi scoffed for a moment turning away to laugh, then he looked back. She was serious. "Laci, how can you ask that? We got engaged 2 weeks ago!" He pulled her onto his body. Laci was wearing shorts and a tank top with Santi's long sleeve from back in the jungle. Laci rested her head on her arms that she crossed ovr his chest. Santi liked when she laid on him, her body weight was a perfect comfort.

"No one's ever wanted to marry me before."

"That's because everyone stupid."

"What if I get bad again and we can't have sex"

"Lace, we've both made each other cum untouched."

"What if I can't have kids."

Santi's eyes widened at that. Not because having kids mattered more than her, but that she would suggest that. "Baby-"

"I might not! I miss carried when I was in-"

"Because they were starving and hurting you!"

"Well I lost my period for a year! Maybe I lost my chances!"

Santi pecked her cute little nose. "Doesn't matter. I drank so much back in the day, maybe I fucked shit up too."

"I don't think that's how it works."

"Don't matter. if we," Santi was sure to say we. He didn't want to place all the responsibility on her. "can't have kids, I still got you and that's what matters."

Laci's face scrunched up, thinking of all the reasons he may break up with her. "What if my body looks really weird after a baby"

"Then I'll love your weird body just as much as I love your body now." Which is a lot. He squeezed her ass for good measure.

"What if I go vegan"

"I'll eat meat at Frankie's house."

"What if I decide to get like, really into horoscopes. Like, a lot."

"I'll find my birth certificate and get you the exact time and place I was born."

"What if I wanna name our baby something really bad like... McBreighleigh"

Santi laughed, but answered. "Then in a few years you'll hear me yelling "Brin! It's time for pre-school"

"What if Yovanna comes back."

Oh.

Santi frowned. "Wha- Lace..." He tucked a lock of her fine hair behind her large ears. Where's that coming from?

She shrugged, looking away. "I dunno..."

"Laci..." Santi gently guided her face to him. "C'mon."

Laci sighed, but looked back at him. "Ben told me you talked to her the week you found me... Why didn't you tell me that..."

Ah. "Sweetheart... I didn't mean to keep it a secret... but we don't... we don't talk about our dating past..." They didn't. They each new the basics. Santi knew that every man she dated used her for money or sex or something to take their anger out on. She didn't like talk about her long history of addiction, sexual trauma and abuse with him. She had her therapist, and Santi was there any time she needed. He knew some stories, he knew the worst of things of course. He wanted to know so he could learn how to not trigger her. He didn't know her full history. If he wanted to, she could tell him. It didn't seem like she wanted too.

Likewise with Santi, Laci knew the basics. She knew she was the first serious girlfriend he'd ever had. He'd dated, even lived with women before, but it was all pretty casual. Yovanna was the first time things had gone deeper. Santi admitted yeah, he had loved her, but she wasn't Laci. After Colombia, Santi had visited her and her brother in Austrelia, a solice for a few weeks after the horrors... but Santi needed to be near his friends. Benny's drinking and fighting was becoming unmanageable for Will alone, and Jana had broken up with Frankie, leaving him a coparent, but with a raging coke addiction. Santi had to be there for him and for his daughter. The last time Yovanna and him had talked was a few days before he found Laci. She didn't want much contact, still fearing Lorea's men and all the drug lords whose money they burned.

"She was just checking in, Lace. She doesn't want me. I don't want her."

She was silent for a moment. "I don't get it."

"Get what?"

Laci sat up straddling his chest. She squished his cheeks. "How anyone could not want you." She was smiling now, and Santi was smiling back, squeezing her thighs.

"Miss Lacina, it doesn't matter if she did want me, I got you, mi chica perfecta, ella sol de mi dias, mi todos. I don't want anything else."

"Even a woman who looks like a super model with normal sized ears and doesn't drown in a 5" pool?"

"PPPSSSHHH" Santi scoffs. "Being tall is overrated. I got the prettiest girl in the world right here."

Laci grinned at that, hopping off him and scrambled back into bed. Getting under the covers, Laci nudges him onto his side and wraps and arm around him. becoming Santi's big spoon (or his lil backpack, as Santi called it.)

"You okay now, munequita?"

He felt her nod against his neck, then give him a kiss. "yeah. Can you just like, remind me you still love me and didn't secretly get tired of me every now and then?"

"Yeah, Miss Lacina." Santiago interlaced his fingers with hers. "I'll remind you every day."

*******************

Thank you guys!!!!

This is for my 2000 followers celebration, but ima tag a few people fron the original LaL days, some of you have been here with me since before 500 followers, a year and a half ago!

For those who didn't keep up with the other series, Laci and Laci are married now, and Laci is preggo with their son <3

@pimosworld @miraclesabound @poeedameronn @itspdameronthings @bensolosbluesaber @whatthefishh @kirstydreaming @missdictatorme

[thatlittledandere]

PLEASE talk about xoxo droplets omg. im no thoughts head empty rn but tbh just i wanna hear every opinion you have about it,, i love when people share my Extremely Unknown Special Interest

Every time I think about how to explain the main characters to someone unfamiliar with them I can get through Everett and Shiloh just fine, normal short synopses, but THEN. NATE LAWSON. TRAPS ME FOR HOURS. Nate isn't even my favorite but I'm obsessed with him oh my god. This is gonna have spoilers for his route btw hold on

Like. I met him, and thought, in a true JB fashion, hot damn. He, he's easily the most attractive of the bunch to me shrsvhddh (Everett has so many qualities I love on paper but in practice. It's Nate he's the most handsome) Then I started to observe why he's in the Unfriendable Group and deducted that he's got a stick the size of a log up his ass. Simple enough. But WAIT THERE'S MORE

I started his route PURELY because he was hot shhddvhgd even though I disliked him hard after my first playthrough. (Shiloh. I didn't believe the warnings. F in the chat bois.) He's not JUST a stickler to the rules nooooooo he's a PERFECTIONIST. And a SUPERHUMAN. But HE doesn't see it like that nooooo he thinks he's just the only one who puts in any effort at all. People keep telling him his standards are unreachable but ~obviously~ they're not. If he can do it, so can everyone else! They're just not trying hard enough! And he doesn't try to be perfect, no, that's impossible. He just wants to be the best he can!

But it's never enough. There's always room for improvement, after all. Nate could get a perfect score on a test and still be dissatisfied, because he could have elaborated on that point in his essay more, or his handwriting got too close to the marginalia on one line and that is unprofessional, or he thought on that one multi-choice question longer than he should have if he studied adequately, etc, etc.

And because of this he's constantly stressed the FUCK out. He volunteers when something needs to be done, he helps out teachers, he takes it upon himself to make sure everyone else is ALSO acting properly, he puts at LEAST 100% into EVERYTHING he does, and there's always more to do. He has a part-time job at a warehouse as well and while the physical labor can offer a bit of a break for his brain, you can bet your ASS he doesn't stop for ONE second or stay on his break a MINUTE too long. How the hell does he live like this?

Well. What other choice is there? Things need to be done. They need to be done well. And obviously Nate knows the importance of rest to your health and performance, so he certainly eats and sleeps properly, but see these things are also scheduled and measured and optimized for maximum efficiency. But does he get REST, for REAL? Does he RELAX?

Yes, because he's best friends and roomies (the room is spotless At All Times) with Everett "2kool4skool" Gray (who would shoot me point blank for saying something so uncool about him). I Could write another essay on their dynamic but let's just say they balance each other out. Nate gives Everett direction, Everett gives Nate respite. Phew.

But I'm not done. MORE MORE MORE. Because I started talking about my personal relationship to Nate but got sidetracked by character analysis dghfsfh THE THING IS I disliked him heavily even some time after starting his route, and all the characters absolutely SHINE on their dates. But then. The unthinkable happened.

The class trip.

Now of course I already knew Nate was extremely high strung all of the time, but until that point I'd seen it either as an annoyance or a joke. But the class trip was, like, a disaster to Nate. He's spending more time with the group outside strictly defined areas and activities and therefore feels responsibility over their behavior. Obviously a new environment with new activities gives everyone more opportunities to act up. They have a schedule, but it's not in Nate's control, and he can't help seeing himself as like a vice advisor, and nothing goes exactly as planned or at ALL as planned, and everyone's doing it on PURPOSE his life is already hell and they're doing it to SPITE him or maybe they're just completely unfit to the title of human being that's been forced on these demons, and this is STILL SCHOOL they're still bound by school rules and they should LEARN things here and GET SOMETHING OUT OF IT for HEAVENS sake,

So it's no wonder he breaks down. And it was, it was fucking terrible. Nate's stress and anxiety present as anger most of the time, I didn't... I didn't see him as the type who would cry. Kind of figured Nate was one of those boys who didn't remember the last time they cried but guessed it was somewhere around fourth grade? Heartless of me. I really thought he was like. Pardon the expression. Above such vulnerability.

Of course he's not. He's a person, and a highly sensitive one at that. I guess I hadn't noticed it over what a hardass he is;;; And y'all I felt SO bad. And so awkward. Like. What the fuck do you do in that situation? This wasn't supposed to happen. It felt like we were breaking the script somehow. Like. "I'm not supposed to see this. Why am I seeing this? Do I need to? Fucking christ. Is this allowed? When can I leave. Uh. There there? Can't even pat him on the shoulder. Jesus just kill me"

And that scene changed everything. Nate cried in front of the MC and I could never see him in the same light again. I used to think he was kinda just a tough yet guarded guy and a demanding ass but oh wow he's actually just like. This dude has anxiety. This dude has problems. He's burning out at light speed and has been for the past what? Eight years?? Get him HELP.

And I HAVEN'T EVEN TOUCHED ON HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH HIS PARENTS YET. So they're the type who saw having children as just a step that responsible adults take at some point in their lives, and they were not prepared. And Nate was a difficult child too. Not on purpose, obviously, babies don't do anything on purpose, but he was particularity emotional even as a baby. He's just Like That. So his parents ehm eeeurgh tolerated him for a few years. Just kind of. Pushed through it. And then decided to give up and send him to a boarding school. Like they basically abandoned him there because they couldn't handle him.

And Nate is on hard denial about this. He tells himself it was the reasonable choice and the best for everyone, and he's not wrong, but he's also not ready to face the fact that uh. His parents very much just are not good at parenting and they don't actually know each other at all. "I respect them and they respect me" is how he puts it, and again it's not wrong but also christ he was not truly loved as a child and still isn't. Mommy and daddy hear that his grades are top of the class and he's very mature and responsible and respected by staff and students alike, and they're proud of him, but they do NOT know who he is as a person or how fucking terrible he's actually doing.

Not that Nate admits any of that himself. I can see how it would be difficult to face when you're already juggling fifty glass balls on a glass platter while riding a unicycle on hard stone floor.

Why is NATE is the one I give a private Ted Talk on regularly when none of the jerks are doing much better. He's just for fucks sake he, he's doing so bad. So bad. Maybe it's the incredibly harsh wakeup call I got? I cannot overstate how impactful that one scene was. HE CRIED. HE CRIED IN FRONT OF ANOTHER PERSON? HE BROKE DOWN?? NATE LAWSON HAS WEAKNESSES??? LIKE HE WASN'T JUST DOING ALL THAT FOR THE SAKE OF OBLIGATION OR TO LOOK GOOD ON A RESUME? HE'S REALLY THAT CRUSHED? I wasn't supposed to be there. I know it's a scripted event but I wasn't supposed to see that it feels not allowed. Are you still there? Thank you for reading go to sleep

[minimag1c]

Day 2 of Radioapple trick or treat week!

This time with gross candied apples!

Sweet AND savory

Day 2 ----->ᶜᵃⁿᵈⁱᵉᵈ ᵃᵖᵖˡᵉˢ/ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐧 ✏ 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬

To be honest, I had no idea what to do with this one but still, I have even more writing block when it comes to the other prompt thus I didn't really had the choice lmao.

So yeah welcome to this very ooc, fluffy and silly one-shot with whatever the fuck this plot is ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ all I can say is "idk they bicker and love each other"

There's isn't really a trigger warning here just blood probably idk

Enjoy it please I know it's awfully bad but really I beg you-

Also

I was too lazy to Google any recipes on how to make an in quote perfect/proper candied apples as I just based myself on what me and my cousin have made once with measuring based on our ancestors' feelings thus it's more tangulu than candied apples lol sorry not sorry. Plus the recipe isn't there. Again. Sorry not sorry.

Oh and to add, Husk is malagasy because I want to

•• <<────≪•◦⚜◦•≫────>> ••

Alastor was never the one to be known for appreciating sweets or delicacies that had to do with sugar.

For insistance, whenever Lucifer would cook his famous duck shaped pancakes or when Husk would made his sweet and spicy alcoholic drinks, he would usually coats his own part with vinegar ("vinegar?? Vinegar OF ALL THINGS??" Sometimes Vaggie would say, completely flabbergasted by his lack of taste) or salt, his tooth not used to candy or sugary cream.

And, as you could see, despite being judged for those horrendous mixes, Alastor supported more the concoction than it was originally.

"The dude upstairs be damned if that freak would even wants a block of sugar in his bitter old ass coffee." Husk grumbled slightly, cleaning off a few bottles of booze that was laying on the counter while Angel, still half asleep yet glued on his phone, nodded absently, his finger instinctively muting every messages Valentino kept sending him which was almost every two minutes.

"C'mon Husky, Smiles's just that of a picky eater that's all. I mean, yeah sure this dude eats pancakes with liver. Liver! But-! He isn't that horrible once you know the context-"

"Didn't he put pepper in your homemade Pana Cotta when you have made one that time?" Husk asked as he couldn't hide the smug grin when he was Angel's grip on his phone getting tighter while a vein was threatening to pop up just above his frowning eyebrows and clenched smile.

"It's__!" Angel started but then his teeth clenched before he sighed dramatically, his four arms limping on the counter. Husk couldn't help but move out one of it delicately, cringing a bit at the recently cleaned up counter.

Then Angel broke. "No but you're right! I really don't understand this guy- how? HOW?? How can you be SO repulsed of something that isn't salty or spicy?? Fuck, even when it's about sex Smile's not even that iffy towards it-!" The spider complained, frowning deeply all the way.

Husk raised an eyebrow with slight Inquisitor at him while sorting a few bottles of whisky and wine from a recent delivery from one of the overlord of the pride ring that specialized himself in alcoholic drinks. The four armed demon was about to continue his ramblings until someone else piped in, their voice groggy.

"Technically Alastor's libido is pretty much a fifty fifty. Or a roulette wheel. I know from experience."

Completely ignoring his own double edged words, Lucifer sat on the other disponible chair next to Angel quite heavily, his six wings hanging lazily from his back as they almost reach the ground but the monarch didn't even seemed to mind it the slightest. He slightly rubbed his face out of tiredness as Angel's eyes widened a bit but soon his flirty and smug persona came back as he leaned furthermore to the counter, much to Husk's disagreement as the cat demon's tail puffed slightly.

"Hey there short king ~" He purred out, waggling his fingers at Lucifer. The devil, at first, frog blinked slowly until he realized that Angel was hitting on him as he coughed up suddenly, laughing awkwardly as he pulled slightly his sleeveless turtleneck.

"UHM ANYWAY- You two were talking about Al right?" The king immediately changed the subject. Angel got even more confused ans pretended to pout when Husk chuckled at his failed attempt at getting interesting results.

The cat demon was the one to answer him.

"I've been on his leash for more than a decade now and yet he still somehow manage to impress me each time he tried to "soothe down" a sweet dish. Le alika maty tena, one time he put sauce in my mofo akondro, that was a really low blow." Husk added in as Angel couldn't help but whistle, knowing that Husk, despite swearing like an old sailor, would rarely use his native language to insult ever even for something mundane.

Lucifer, like the being he was, obviously knew and spoke malagasy and he couldn't help but be even more surprised, knowing Husk rarely use his native language to insult.

"Wait what he does that now?? I knew that he really hates anything related to sugar but this seems a bit extreme-!"

"Isn't that weird too that this fucker do like cooking? I'm still surprised he didn't poisoned all of us until now" Angel said, actually getting wary at the realization but Lucifer waved his hand around as Husk shook his head to confirm that the spider's suspicions were useless.

"He ain't going do that. Cooking is actually one of his passions plus he ain't that clueless, he knows that people are not that allergic to sweets like him." Husk argued back, even him telling that information felt weird on his tongue but it was true, Alastor knows that he was the only one in the hotel that was so repulsed of anything other than salt or spicy.

He would have shocked Husk if it wasn't for the fact that Alastor was just full of salt himself.

During the small conversation, Lucifer pondered on his own and couldn't help but slightly rolls his eyes in tiredness even though it was morning already. He knew about his husband's loath for anything sugary, he was already used to it when Alastor would put deer liver in between pancakes to lessen down its savor or drink his dark coffee with nothing else but the devil had to admit that this was just too much!

Something, Lucifer was actually convinced that this guy's doberman like taste was actually the main reason why he went in Hell, not the murders and the cannibalism or whatnot.

"-Plus Charlie wanted me to hang a few decorations with her and Vag. After all, it has been a while since I even celebrated Halloween." Husk admitted as he shuffled a few tarot cards on his own as Angel titled his head to the side, those rare calm expression on his face that were only reserved to the cat bartender shown as he slowly nodded his head before raising an eyebrow.

"Really?"

Husk shrugged.

"I've only done famadihana when I was a kid, don't know if that counts."

Lucifer didn't minded that the two didn't aknowledged him, in fact, he didn't felt the need to be seen on the current but upon hearing the oh so familiar therm of Samhain that regular people would use differently, he perked up slightly.

When Charlie was just barely a 5 feet tall naphil, Halloween was her favorite holiday and day of the year, mainly because Lucifer would usually told her about how the gape between humans and them demons would meet each other without discord or chaos. Of course, it was stupid to think that way especially when during the time Charlie was a toddler, humans would rather torture and brainwash their own kind if they were queers or just left-handed. Sending a pale child whose friends were goats plushies during the Victorian era would have probably made polemic and she would mainly ended up in an horrible church disguised as a rehabilitation center than with friends going to school while munching on apple slices.

And then people wondered why Lucifer didn't liked humans, especially less sinners but a few were an exception.

Now, unfortunately, he didn't knew anymore if it was still her favorite time of the year but upon hearing the familiar words again, it seemed that it was unchanged until now.

That information made him smile warmly and furthermore when one thing led to another.

It has been eons since he hasn't made his famous candied apples!

He remembered when Charlie would be crazy about those sweet things and he himself would be more than thrilled to cook those delicacies just for her. After all, even if Lucifer would not be that such of a great cook aside from his iconic pancakes (was the devil even know for his flour and syrup? Meh at least he was known in the hotel for this and there weren't even that many of patrons here), Lucifer's second most favorite was making those delicacies topped with melted caramel and in some times edible glitters.

"Did she thought about celebration Halloween or not?" He suddenly asked out loud, only now realizing that he actually didn't listened to their conversation, a guilty feeling gnawing in his guts.

Both Angel and Husk looked at the devil before the smaller demon shrugged, unsure.

"She didn't confirmed yet if she really wants or not."

"Well knowing our lil ray of sunshine, the reason she wouldn't accept would be probably because of the fact she's constantly busy as a nun during vespers." Angel added.

Lucifer faltered slightly. Well, that not really the answer he hoped but at least he still had a bit of glimmer that he would have an excuse to cook again and now for a wider range.

Oh well! Technically now he had an excuse!

Again, without knowing, he bid farewell to the two as he vanished in a red mist as Angel also had an unexpected filming where he needed as a major role, leaving Husk again with a counter that he just barely cleaned who now had glitters on it.

Husk sighed deeply.

•• <<────≪•◦⚜◦•≫────>> ••

Early that day, the sin of Pride stood in front of the kitchen, his hands on his hips and a determined expression on his face while contemplating all around.

Today, he got up early to make those delicious snacks he used to make, hoping that his mind wouldn't play any tricks against him such as forgetting essential parts.

But he was lucky! He wasn't known for being the one with a clownfish memory! Details were hard but he could still keep in mind important matters.

Like his fall for example.

Ouch.

But anyway, this wasn't the main topic Lucifer was thinking about his famous candied apples. Without waiting furthermore, he summoned with a snap of fingers all the ingredients and the necessary ustensils he needed.

Taking a deep breath while tighting furthermore the apron around his waist, he stood in front of the kitchen counter, darting his gaze around.

"Let's see..." He thought to himself, rummaging through the tidied mess as he landed on the bright red apples. He smiled widely before he remembered a detail that almost made his face drop.

Oh yeah. Alastor.

Lucifer facepalmed as he grunted in annoyance at the realization. Of course his dumbass of a husband, like the weird ass cryptid he was, would be the exception! There's no way he was Lucifer was going to let him put a gizzard or deer blood on his sweets. It was his dish after all!

Suddenly, he perked up as an idea sprouted in his mind. Well, if Alastor wasn't able to put those horrendous mixes in Lucifer's concoction... Then Lucifer will be the one doing those horrendous mixes!

That sicken him slightly but it was better than having a heart attack when someone else do it.

Well, changes of plan! He WAS going to make those candied apples and for an annoying exigeant Bambi, a version with more savory taste.

Thus started a whole operation in the kitchen that was divided in two, one side of the counter being filled with sugar, melter butter and butterscotch while the other had blood from who knows where coated with smells like pepper or sauce.

The devil breathed out heavily, wiping his sweaty forehead with his arm as he admired with pride the plate with the bright, sparkling fruits that were put on it topped off with still fresh caramel alongside with edible, shiny glitters. Then, his gaze darted to the other plate who looked more like a poor representation of what foods look like from a 5 stars restaurant.

The key words were poor representation.

BUT if he had to be honest, Lucifer was surprised that Alastor's part was okay ish and actually something alright?? Well- the coagulated blood topped with sesame was probably a churn sensation for delicate stomach bur Alastor's was definitely concrete thus he wouldn't mind it.

He just hoped that the smell would not be unbearable for the others, because eating something sweet with the scent of cooked steak wasn't probably the best feeling.

•• <<────≪•◦⚜◦•≫────>> ••

"Oh my gosh dad you really didn't had to!" Charlie's enthusiastic voice rang out, already full of emotions as Vaggie raised an eyebrow, curious, at the frozen syrupy apple that she was holding before she took a small, tentative bite and soon her eye instantly gleamed.

"Wow it's actually good-!" The fallen exorcist added and couldn't help but take another, smiling furthermore when she caught a bit of liquid butterscotch with it.

Lucifer couldn't help but also bust his chest in joy and satisfaction, seeing that his desserts were a success for everyone who either shares because of the size of the fruit or it's excessive yet enjoyable sweetness and crunchiness.

The short king looked around, his heart swelling even more when he saw the bright, giddy expression on Charlie's face just like when she was still a child as she told the other hotel's residents about some memories she had with her pa' and then in general.

"It seems that everyone is quite enjoying your delicacies apparently" A familiar radio filled voice suddenly rang in as Lucifer felt a presence materializing next to him.

He didn't needed to turn his head to know that Alastor was looking at the candied apples with a hint of disdain. Lucifer chuckled slightly.

"Well it has been a while I didn't spoiled charlie or even anyone with snack so I decided to prepare something" Lucifer explained, shrugging.

Alastor simply hummed.

The two, for the smallest of seconds, just stood next to each other, enjoying in certain degrees the sight of either Charlie holding Vaggie's hand while she was discussing with Cherri or Nifty, high on sugar, fastly crawling around while Angel tried his best to hold her in place with Husk slightly snickering at the interaction. After a few ephemeral moments, Lucifer spoke up, his tone smug yet a spike of uncertainty flared up alongside.

"How was your version of candied apples though?"

"If your version of candied apples was putting anything that was my liking then you should probably reevaluate your cooking skills" Alastor said casually, his permanent smile getting wider when Lucifer hit him on the shoulder.

"Hey! I'm not the one who's so repulsed by sugar I need to tone it down with spice!" The king argued back, revolted as such words. Alastor only barked out a laugh.

"Well technically I like sugar-"

"Say what now?" Lucifer deadpanned at him, already preparing himself to shake Alastor as a result of his efforts to make something at least potable for Alastor. The deer raised an eyebrow.

"-But! I'm not the kind of indulge myself in it."

Lucifer raised an eyebrow at him.

"... So you don't like sugar."

"Indubitably."

Lucifer sighed, massaging his forehead but then Alastor continued, his tone more sincere now.

"Still, I appreciated your efforts into making sure your dish is adequate to my tastes. Really." The deer added as his husband's eyes widened a bit at the aveu before he smiled back at him, a snort almost leaving his mouth.

"Well, that's something I didn't knew you would s-"

"The venison was horrible though."

Lucifer this time didn't hesitated as he hit, this time harder, Alastor who couldn't help but cackle, Charlie looking at the two from afar, still smiling at their interactions.

Maybe she shouldn't tell her father that she smelled the blood on a few apples, he seemed happy enough.

•• <<────≪•◦⚜◦•≫────>> ••

Holy shit I went past day one what a miracle! 😱😱😱😦😦😦😦 /Hj

Anyway again sorry for any shitty writing it will happen again.

[26/10/2024]

(2816 words)

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Wattpad version

Archive of our own version

[roses-hrt-diary]

MONTH 5 DAY 18 PART 2

PHEW! I am glad that is done and over with! That process was *extremely* painful, and now? Well, there's a ton of blood on the floor and a broken human skull. Very gross... but, there's too many new good things that are here now for me to be all too down about that!

First of all, obviously, a screen display. It's pretty low-res for now, but dear god, how did I ever deal with just a human face? I can show whatever colors, whatever expressions, whatever images I so desire, and it's so amazing! The people around me can see for themselves what my programs are like, too! Furthermore, I now have recording capabilities! Before, I could have whatever song I wanted to play from my speakers, but it would be subject to imperfectness from my memory. But now, not only is audio perfect, but video can be output too! It also means that people like my girlfriend can navigate my OS like they're just using a normal computer, and it's really happy to be used this way. There's just something about somebody navigating you, using what you have to offer, that just... it makes me so happy!

My computer got better, too! I can actually use the internet now, although it's a little slow, and I can't visit all the sites. However, I can actually probably begin the process of downloading further software for myself, which is superrrr exciting to think about. Plus, I have some cool games, even Space Cadet Pinball, hehehe. And with stronger computers comes better cooling, but sometimes I slow it so that my girlfriend can feel me warm up, which makes me even more huggable, hehehe.

I also got a neat new internal height tracker, which is good, cause the measuring tape was getting harder and harder to use 0_0. I was 6'8 before this, but I guess my screen is a bit higher than my head before, cause now I'm 6'9! And, for the first time, I actually need to *duck* to get through doorways! My girlfriend is soooo short now, now we have the same height difference as before I started! My strength has become overwhelming, too~ I actually realized that I can lift things like tables and chairs without even trying, I could almost completely lift up our car, I'm just so strong! My hips have also just been getting wider, and my ass has been getting fatter as well. I'm just so huge, I knew I'd get bigger, but this is a foot taller than when I started, and it just doesn't look like it'll stop any time soon!

[yakuzacasual]

Treatise about Hanawa the cat mom

Yeah, I caught a glimpse of him in Infinite Wealth, how could you tell? No spoilers whatsoever, just my insane ramblings. Brought to you by my besties own cat also known as god's favourite princess.

Hanawa Kihei decides to adopt an animal

Hanawa likes dogs a lot. Ever since he was a boy, he always admired them and it has slowly but surely become his dream to become a dogowner somewhere down the line. The way he sees it they are a loyal, loving companions that perfectly fill up the void of a lonely man's life. A man like himself, unlikely to change given his entanglements. Obviously to him, a strapping young lad would imagine a company of a german shepard or a husky. A big, cool breed to stand out between all the shiba inu's populating streets of japan, and just maybe boost his masculinity. As time goes, so does Hanawa and his tastes becoming much more mild. By the time he becomes a distinguished, middle-aged gentleman he doesn't really give a rat's ass about the breed. He could totally imagine himself chilling with a spaniel, a little white mop of maltese or bichon frise. In short - anything goes. He has also been long supporting a local animal shelter and would be most likely to adopt a furry mixed creature from there.

The only obstacle in his immaculate plan turns out to be... the work that has ironically finally allowed a life with a pet. Sure, he has his own place, money to spare, a lot of love to give and a relatively flexible schedule but all that comes at a cost. At times he would be gone for hours on end, other times he would lock himself away in the apartment study toiling over the paperwork. The more he thinks about it, the more it is no environment for a sweet little pup. And in comes this random, rambunctious cat.

The cat is a surprise from an older little lady thre doors left. The way she tells it, her cat has been gone for weeks and by the time it was found safe and sound... Well, she accidentally snatched another one looking just like good old Koro. Since no owner could be found, the silver-tounged witch is gone from his doorstep before he can realize that he has been gifted a furry companion.

The creature, now eloquently named Ponta, is a strange fellow. Hanawa didn't think himself specialist when it comes to cats, he was always pretty lukewarm to their existence, but gods above know this is NOT what he was prepared for. Ponta would be a perfect gentleman when eating, using litter box and being bathed. Cats were more intelligent than dogs, or so he has heard, but never has he seen an animal this well behaved. The problem was, all the other times Ponta would be dashing around the apartment like a madman smashing head first into any surface. The first time Hanawa noticed little bumps on his tiny head, he thought he would flip with anxtiety. After a while it became a normality that required an entire day of covering sharp surfaces with bubble wrap.

Then, Ponta developed an interesting habit of crying out at the walls in the middle of the night. Hanawa would get up countless times, trying to check why was his cat meowing up a storm, only to find everything perfectly intact, no mouse inside. Sometimes, if his mind was tired enough, the measured sounds seemed to almost make a choir-like melody that sent a shiver down his spine. He started handing Ponta a chew toy right before going to sleep, trying to keep the little kitty mouth occupied. It usually lasts until 3am only, but that's more than before anyways.

Finally, the wake up calls where the creature would plop directly on the length of his neck, leaving him to suffocate - or alternatively waking up to Ponta sitting on his chest, staring at Hanawa from above. The deep, chocolate eyes peeking into his soul with ferocity of a demon. The first few times, the man almost sent the cat flying into the ceiling in what could be only described as absolute terror. This one still requires a consistent fix, but he has discovered leaving out a warmed up pillow really helps.

Honestly speaking, Hanawa has no idea when exactly did the little rascal grow on him. Before long he couldn't imagine sitting in his studio without Ponta bumping around, or tucking himself into the warm pillow on his owner's legs. The man's had is now almost naturally conditioned to seek out the hairy belly to rub and stock up on discounted sanitizer for scratches. At some point he absolutely catches himself getting the cat food times more fancy than his weekly diet and the realization leaves him dumbstruck, staring at a premium can in pain. They make a delightful pair honestly, catching all kinds of eyes once Hanawa introduces cat harness and Ponta happily joins on his exercise runs or wistful walks. Even the Daidoji agents coax him into bringing the cat into the office, once the word spreads.

The man will never know peace again and he might just like it that way.