#it's a simple design but i hope it gets the point across

[oepionie]

— "THE PRINCESS TREATMENT." various

SYNOPSIS: your boyfriend and the different ways he pampers and spoils you rotten ♡

⊹ [ cw ] — mentions of winter storms, prefect is implied to have bad living conditions, mild violence in the tweels parts, jade breaks someone's wrist, crowley slander, ace slander◞

⊹ [ tags ] — FLUFFY! feminine reader! no gendered pronouns used, riddle uses his dorm position to spoil you, seeing trey driving is very hot, deuce biceps, leona and azul sugar daddy era, ruggie would rather freeze to death than have you be cold, jack carries you, jade and floyd will fight for you, rook makes you his muse and paints you, malleus renovates the entire diasomnia dorm for you, sebek carries your pink handbags◞

⊹ [ characters ] — riddle, trey, deuce, leona, ruggie, jack, azul, jade, floyd, rook, malleus, sebek◞

⊹ [ w.c ] — 4.9k+◞ | 🦇masterlist◞

—♰ RIDDLE

Princess treatment, Like—literally

Loathe is Riddle to admit—He can't deny the fact that being his lover meant you got special treatment. Prime example being your position at unbirthday parties. At the banquet table, just beside Riddle's designated throne, was your throne. Similar in style, it had a heart-shaped crest and golden frame; the only difference was that it was milky white rather than deep red. And despite his best efforts to downplay the favoritism shown to you, Riddle knows for a fact that he had the throne commissioned himself.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

"Come with me." The dorm leader says as he moves towards you, leading you towards your throne. He didn't fail to notice how your legs shook slightly as you walked alongside him or how your hands didn’t leave his coat once. Not that he minded.

The redhead clasped your hands in his as he sat you down onto the leather seat before adjusting the train of your dress to ensure that it wouldn't bother you.

"How are you fairing?" Riddle asked softly, kneeling before you to slip a leather-clad hand behind your knees. He set your feet up on a plush stool and slipped your pointed heels off, gently caressing your ankles. "I overheard you earlier, griping about your feet aching. I certainly hope you're not pushing yourself too hard."

"Ah, no. I just chose the wrong heels today. They're too pointy." You sighed, poking at your crimson red heels, which were discarded to the grassy sides. Groaning, you reclined back on your throne, the billowing, fluffy skirt of the dress Riddle had recently gifted tumbling all about you.

"I see." Riddle nodded in understanding, taking your hand and pressing a quick gentlemanly kiss on your wrists. "The croquet game is up next. I suppose you'd rather stay here?"

"Yeah, I think I need some alone time," you sigh. Riddle squeezes once more your hand in reply, letting his eyes shut in contemplation.

"Very well," He hums, moving to gently tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. "Do rest here a while, rose."

There was a soft smile as the leather of his hands glide across your back. "Oh, and, please let a member of my dorm know if you ever need anything. Worry not. I've instructed everyone here to be at your beck and call."

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— ♰ TREY

Passenger princess treatment<3

Every weekend, it was routine for Trey to whisk you away from your beaten-up dorm. After all, he was sure it was nice to spend the day in a place where you weren't inhaling dust and spiders every second. Both of you would always go over to his parent's café in the city for a simple little brunch date. And without fail, Trey would always pick you up at 9am sharp by the school gates.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

"… I was made for lovin' you, baby

You were made for lovin' me

And I can't get enough of you, baby

Can you get enough of me?"

Soft music played from the car's radio as the third-year weaved through the barren intersections, careful and slow. It seems as if the roads were merciful to you both today, calm and free of any traffic.

Trey languidly reaches one of his hands, calloused from his years of baking, over to rest gently on your thigh. His thumb rubs soft circles and nonsensical patterns over your plump skin while the other gripped the steering wheel in a loose hold, biceps flexing as he twisted the wheel to turn the car.

Focused as he was, you didn't miss how his gaze flits back and forth between the road and you, the expression swimming within them almost akin to a distant longing.

You place your hand atop his and lean against the passenger door. A wide grin spreads over your glossy red lips as you shake your head playfully. "Keep your eyes on the road."

Mirthful laughter spills from your mouth before your eyes flutter shut as you sway along to the song, mindlessly kicking your legs around. "Crashing and going to the hospital doesn't really sound like a good date idea."

A pensive smile creeps up on Trey's face, and he lets out a low chuckle. "Yeah? I just can't help it. You're a much more interesting sight."

He watched as the sun's dazzling light bathed your image in a beautiful, pleasant glow. To him, you looked ethereal, seemingly glowing and shining under the golden streaks of sunlight that pour through the windshield.

"What did I just say?" you sighed, smiling cheekily as you smoothed a hand over his clover-colored hair, fixing the stray strands moved askew by the wind from the open windows. "Hello~? Wonderland to Trey? Eyes on the road?"

He paused for a while before chuckling, his hands splaying out on the steering wheel as he turned his gaze back front. "Right, right. I'll be careful, princess."

───────────────────── · ·

— ♰  DEUCE

Carries your things for you and will not let you do any heavy lifting at all plus he buys you drinks!

Screw Crowley Dire. You were sick of Ramshackle's awful, scratchy furniture. For once, you wished you could sit on something that wasn't littered with dust bunnies or looked like it came straight from the depths of the underworld—no offense to Idia. And so, using the money you had painstakingly saved over the last six months, you decided to buy a cute, frilly sofa.

Problem was—you couldn't lift it at all. It was too wide and heavy for your poor untrained arms. Fortunately for you, your boyfriend was more than happy to help ^^

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

"Um…Deuce? Are you sure you don't want me to work?" Perched atop the kitchen counters, you were worriedly staring down at him.

While he was preoccupied with lifting the couch, you were lazily sipping on a bubble tea—a drink which he bought for you himself. Humming, you let your gaze move from the soft line of his cheekbone, to the sharper cut of his jaw, before resting it onto the thick of his arms. " I don't mind helping, you know."

Deuce was standing by the door, arms tucked beneath the couch as he braced himself for lifting. "Yeah, I got this. Don't worry."

Now, why was he here, exactly? Well…First off, you didn't intend to call him at all.

In the middle of trying to haul your couch into Ramshackle's entrance, Deuce had appeared out of nowhere, offering his help. Despite your vehement denial, the stubborn boy wouldn't take no for an answer, and eventually forced you to sit down, shoving the bright, bubbly drink in your hand without saying a word.

So, here you were. Shamelessly ogling at him while he tried to find a way to bring the couch in.

"Are you sure? I don't want you to get hurt—Oh!" You gasped, hand flying up to cover your agape mouth when Deuce easily lifted it up as if it were made of air. In response to your expression of astonishment, he grinned and playfully flexed his arms. "See?"

While Deuce set the couch down in front of the TV, you slipped off the counters and strode over to him. Jumping into his embrace, you draped your arms around his shoulder and pressed a big kiss on his cheeks, watching in delight as his face exploded in pink. "You're so strong! Thank you so much!"

Deuce let a wobbly smile stretch across his burning cheeks, his hands slack atop your hips. "Y-Yeah! No problem."

───────────────────── · ·

— ♰ LEONA

Sugar dad-I mean-financial help<3 + Hints at passenger princess treatment

Leona Kingscholar was not a romantic. Naturally, he has stayed to himself ever since he was little. This lion was not the kind to be sentimental, gooey, or emotional. So it is astonishing how quickly this stone-cold personality of his breaks down when he's around you.

Every little thing you do drives him into a lovesick frenzy, and he has no idea how to stop it. He wasn't particularly into grand displays of affection or romantic gestures. Ergo, in an effort to express his adoration, he turns to more…costly methods.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

"Tell me what you want." Leona demands, tone serious as he wraps a rough yet protective arm around your hips. Both of you were standing smack dab in the middle of a large shopping mall. Though the more you stood here, the more you began to realize that this place wasn't really your…ordinary mall.

First and foremost, when Leona pulled up, there was private parking, and that was already intimidating to you in and of itself. Second, it seems like every single store in here was a luxury brand. You've seen a couple of these logos plastered onto the tags of Vil's or Jade and Floyd's clothes.

As a matter of fact, you were pretty sure their plastic bags cost more than your entire yearly allowance combined.

"Ah, um…"  A nervous sweat built up on your brow as you fished your wallet out, peering into what little funds you had. "Leona, honey—I just needed to get some school supplies…Is there a different mall we can go to?" You sheepishly smiled up at him. "I don't think I can afford to get anything here."

Silence immediately follows as Leona stares at you with a dumbfounded look. Blinking bluntly, he scoffs. "Who said you were paying?"

"Hu-Huh?" You stammered, fiddling with your wallet. The lion's eyes were ripped wide open in shock, as if the mere thought of you spending your own money on your own things was a criminal act. Something so ludicrous that even a person with his deceptive persona finds it distasteful.

"Ain't it obvious already? I'm paying," Leona huffs, dragging you to a nearby jewelry shop. Behind the glass were displays of glittering pearls and jewels, each of which had delicate and intricate carvings. "And we're gettin' more than stationary."

"But-!" You start, only to get interrupted as his calloused hand clamps over your mouth.

"No buts."

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— ♰  RUGGIE

Giving you his coat when you're cold and just being sickeningly sweet<3

Ruggie was used to working for others, and this habit of his pours over to you. Though it wouldn't take long for people to notice that his acts of labor was…different with you.

For others, Ruggie works because there's an exchange, a benefit, or a payment for him. For you, however, he does things with no motive in mind. He would never ask for more because he genuinely didn't need anything more, and if he ever did, a simple kiss or hug from you would be plenty.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

It was a frigid winter day and both of you were walking to school together, a routine you both developed over the past few months. As you followed him through the deep snowfall, the cold wind nipped and bit at your skin, making you shudder. Despite the struggle, you push on, the rough pads of your boots dragging along the thick blankets of snow.

Unfortunately for you, the flimsy cardigan you bought at Sam's did nothing to keep your body safe from the cruel winter.

While Ruggie's oversized warm coat helps kept him sufficiently warmed up, you, on the other hand, are struggling. You know you should have gotten a thicker coat, but this was all you could afford last minute.

Ever so caring, your boyfriend is quick to notice this and turns back around, trudging through the snow to meet you.

"C'mere," Ruggie drags you into his embrace and starts to slowly inch the coat off his shoulders. With your form now pushed against his body, he takes the chance to press a soft kiss against your cheeks. At the exchange of affection, both of you erupt in soft giggles, lovesick grins stretched across your lips.

The moment feels intimate, loving, and safe.

"Here ya' go." Suddenly he's engulfing you in his thick cloak and zipping it up. Protesting, you try to give it back, but all he does is snicker and shake his head. He peppers warm kisses on the side of your bare frostbitten neck, relishing in the giggles that spill from your lips. "Keep it. I can handle the cold. I'm used to it but I can't have you freezin' out here, now can I?"

───────────────────── · ·

— ♰  JACK

Carries you when your feet start to hurt, tee hee

Jack was strong and well-disciplined. He's worked hard and trained himself to peak physical condition, yet even then, he's continually seeking to improve himself even more. He's tried it all: fitness routines, weight lifting, and sports. And it pays off.

His strength has proven useful in a variety of circumstances. from physical education classes, sporting events, marathons, and, strangely enough, carrying you when your heels begin to hurt your feet.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

Jack looks around the booths as he takes your hands in his, pulling you along the festival crowds, "Hm. I think the takoyaki stand is around here. You were craving that earlier, right?" If it weren't for the intense dull ache at the bottom of your ankles, you would have been delighted to hear about the delectable octopus snack.

Instead, you hissed and pulled on the beastman's hand, halting to a stop, unable to take the torture of your heels any longer. "Jack, hold on a second."

Groaning, you slouch down on a nearby bench and kick off your heels, scowling at the dull throb that's pressing itself against the back of your foot. Jack quickly knelt down by your side, ears alert and tail swishing.

"What's wrong?" He questions as he drags your legs over to rest on top of his firm thighs. "Do your feet hurt?"

"Yeah," you sigh. "I kinda regret putting on heels at a festival like this…I didn't realize it would hurt so bad. I just wanted to look cute."

The wolf ponders for a moment before swiftly turning around, presenting his back to you, "Get on."

"Eh?" You blinked, tilting your head to the side. Jack looks away, keeping his head tilted to the ground as a dark flush swept over his skin. "I'll carry you…I-If your feet hurt, I won't mind carrying you."

"Oh!" Smiling, you slip onto his back and wrap your arms snug around his neck. Jack clutches your heels in one hand while the other grasps onto your thigh. The beastman easily stands up, supporting both his and your weight as he heads towards the food stands.

"Who knew you were such a softie, Jack! Hehe." You tease, pressing a kiss against the side of his neck. The beastman flushed even more, avoiding your gaze at all cost.

"Tch. I-I don't go around doing this for anyone."

───────────────────── · ·

— ♰  AZUL

Sugar dad-I mean-financial help<3 #2

Azul lived to spoil you.

For you, the octo-mer gleefully buys mountains of clothing. Your entire wardrobe has been thoughtfully planned by him (and often rapidly purchased, Floyd is always the victim to his 12am shopping whims).

Other than clothing, he's also quite fond of jewelry. He clasps pure pearls to your ears, drapes diamonds over your neck, and slips rings onto your fingers. It would be the highlight of Azul's day to see the items he had purchased for you proudly displayed for all the students on campus to see.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

"Shall we?" he asks softly as he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you up from your chair. The smooth white silk of your dress cascades off the plush leather seat, draping down to your ankles. Azul swiftly guides you away from the lounge, signaling at both Floyd and Jade in the corner to clean up before turning his attention back to you, once more. "I hope the food was to your liking, angelfish?"

"Oh, it was," you confirm, a smile playing on your lips. Leaning up, you press a warm kiss against his lips, one which he returns. "Thank you for the wonderful night, Azul! The dress as well. It looks beautiful."

"Why, of course." The octo-mer hums, running his hand up your back. As he slips both of you into his room, he shuts the door with his foot and guides you to his vanity. "Though I do have one last gift."

"Another?" You chuckle, "Don't you think you spoil me too much? I don't want it to seem like I'm leeching off of you…"

"No, you could never," Azul says as he motions you to a seat near the table of his vanity. The octo-mer reaches over and opens a drawer, revealing a nice velvet box.

As the box is opened, a gorgeous sea-glass necklace with a stunning silver-coral colour is exhibited to you. It sat prettily atop a white plush pillow, winking at you. Azul deftly runs a hand up your neck to pull your hair back and your lips parts in a "o" when he clasps it on.

"Azul," you breathlessly murmur. "I can't possibly—This must have cost a fortune."

"It's for you," Azul smiles. "Only for you."

───────────────────── · ·

— ♰  JADE

You have scary eel privileges'

It was not uncommon for Jade to come knocking at your door in opportune times of the night to accompany you out for a walk. You mentioned once how you loved stargazing and Jade hasn't let that go since. For he too had always carried a fondness for the night, more specifically, the moon.

It was constant, a repetitive lustrous cycle, and despite his thrill seeking nature, he took comfort in its consistency. Walks with you were the highlight of his week, and he certainly does not take interruptions from pesky little bugs lightly.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

The night sky above Ramshackle was littered with painted specs of sparkling stars, burning brightly amidst the gradients of blue and black. Jade had a firm hand situated by the small of your back, gently guiding you along the dirt path of the trail.

"It's so beautiful…" You murmur in astonishment, craning your head up to peer up at the canvas of stars. Chuckling, Jade tugs you in closer to slip his large jacket over your shoulders. "I'm glad you like it, pearl. I do hope it's not too cold?"

"Not at all."

Both of you continue along your hike, going deeper and deeper into the thick, dense forest. As you trudged on, a bundle of wild mushrooms caught your eye and you halted to a stop, recognizing the patterns and spots on the fungi in a book Jade had once shown you.

"Wait here a moment. I just saw those mushrooms you wanted so bad. I'll go get it!" Before Jade could even reply, you were already off, sneaking past tall bushes and prickly trees. 

Just as you were about to pick your first mushroom, a low growl interrupts you. Freezing, your eyes dart upward to see a Savanaclaw student towering over your form. 

He did not seem happy.

"Oya? You're that Ramshackle punk, aren't you?…I have to say, Leona let you off real easy after that little spy mission you did in our dorm." He sneers, rolling the joints of his shoulders and moving closer, backing you up against a tree. "That's all good with me…Cuz' If he won't do something bout' it, then I will."

Suddenly, he was drawing his fist back, aiming for you. The sudden shift happened so quickly that all you could do was flinch and hunch over, preparing yourself for a hit.

Only for it to never come.

"My, my," a familiar voice muses. Breath hitching in your throat, you peek up and see Jade looming behind the boy. The eel's hand was coiled tight around the beastman's wrist, clasping tighter and tighter until there was a sickening snap. 

"How foolish of you to think I would allow that."

───────────────────── · ·

— ♰ FLOYD

You have scary eel privileges' #2

Floyd was a lot softer and caring than a lot of people would give him credit for. That or he just gives you special treatment. After all, the big bad eel found you endearing. You were his one and only beloved little shrimpy. 

You were the one who stood by him even when others dismissed him as strange or frightful because you loved and adored him wholeheartedly. So, he can't help but be protective of you.

Nothing will ever hurt you so long as he's by your side.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

"Shrimpy? What're you doing here?"

Sniffles and cries wreck your chest as you curled up on Floyd's bed, clutching his shrimp plush tight in your arms. Said eel was standing by the door, a look of shock plastered onto his features before it turned ice-cold as he approached your weeping form.

"My poor shrimpy…" Floyd rasps, tugging off his gloves to cup your wet cheeks with his big hands. "What's wrong with my shrimpy? Did someone do this? I'll squeeze 'em if they did."

The eel crawls into bed with you, tugging the plush out of your arms and slipping himself into your embrace. Soft warm kisses are peppered on your wet cheeks as Floyd coos at you.

Sobbing, you raise a hand to furiously wipe at your eyes before exclaiming, "It's Grim again! Why does he have to be so difficult?! I worked so hard for my alchemy exam, but it seems like he doesn't care! He's brought our grades down again!"

"It's that cat of yours again, huh?" Floyd clicked his tongue, thumb pressing against the corner of your teary eyes. He pressed a warm palm to your cheek, examining your face with close inspection as he slowly reached for your hand and set it down atop his beating heart. "No worries. Just let it all out, shrimpy. I'll have a talk with the baby seal later hehe~"

You sniffed and brushed his comments aside as you pulled away from the embrace, an action which made him pout. "…I'm not sure he'd even listen. Grim is as stubborn as a rock." 

"We'll see about that, shrimpy." Floyd scoffs, a frown on his face clearly visible as he pulls you closer once more.

"Yanno, I'm pretty good at alchemy myself." Floyd chirps, a dark grin slowly stretching across his cheeks. "I'm sure the baby seal won't mind having a private tutor session with good ol' me."

───────────────────── · ·

— ♰ ROOK

This man WORSHIPS the ground you walk on.

As they say, "Before you die, experience the love of a writer, poet or painter. If you're lucky enough to be an artist's muse, they will immortalize you." Such a muse you were to Rook.

Though it would take quite a lot of coaxing before he could have the pleasure of having you as his muse, at the rare moments you did agree—Rook did his utmost best to do you justice on the canvas.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

Portraiture looked into the life of the subject, revealed what was hidden deep inside, and examined it. With his hunter-like manner, Rook was all too acquainted with this study.

"A-Am I doing this right?" You murmur, trying your best not to move around as you held a bouquet of daisies up to your chest. There was a cream-tinted dress draped across your body as you reclined against the backdrop Rook had set up.

"Oui. Such beauty in your gaze, trickster. Angels lurk behind your eyes." The hunter flirts, resolute gazed locked onto your flustered ones as he drags his brush against the palette. There was an experiment with the hues for a time before he blended a few other colors.

"I cannot thank you enough for allowing me to do this." As he'd found the color he wanted, Rook turned back to you. He took careful note of every nuance and detail of your glowing visage and committed as much as he could to memory. Rook knew he’d have to make your portrait perfect. He simply couldn’t allow for anything else.

"You're very persistent," you huff with a small smile on your face. "I had to cave in eventually, huh?"

"But, of course!" Rook cheekily grins, turning his attention back to the canvas. "I can't let a chance like this pass me by."

Time passed and layers upon layers of color came together to form the picture he sought after. Out to the right, spread across a lush sofa, was your incandescent form. And he surely didn't hold back on the details. The creases in the fabric, the curve of your smile, and the contours of the plush pillows scattered on either side of the plush crimson sofa all draw the eye.

It was a large painting that he had boldly placed in Pomefiore's living room, much to Vil's chagrin. Try as he might, the dormleader couldn't get the hunter to remove it at all.

───────────────────── · ·

— ♰ MALLEUS

Princess treatment? pff. That's cute. No, it's queen treatment to him.

You had a bad tendency of rambling on about whatever that came to mind, often without realising that another person was in the same room as you. Even if you initially didn't mind this little quirk of yours, recent events have made you realise that you should probably curb your mouth-running.

Even more so considering that your partner, caring as he was, had a tendency to be quite…impulsive. Especially when it comes to matters concerning your comfort and well-being.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

Malleus was flipping through a catalogue of colour samples and scrutinizing each texture with careful judgment. Slipping the page into your hands, he murmurs, "This is all rather lovely. Perhaps a dark crimson will suffice. Or would you like this wine red dye, my dear?" The dragon looked at you, patiently awaiting your response.

Only for there to be none.

You stood awkwardly at his side, your cheeks flaming up with shame. Tugging at his coat, you rose up on your tiptoes and whispered quietly, "Tsunotaro…when I whined about it being cold, I didn't mean for you to go this far."

"Oh?" He quirks a brow up, "Do you not like these colors?"

"Mal," you utter gently, handing the catalogue back to him. "I don't really think we need to—"

"Young Master. If I may," Sebek interrupts, voice raising to a strained high squeak, "Please do tell. Why are we replacing every.single marble floor in the dorm…with carpet?"

Malleus draws you in his arms, all while ignoring the enraged stare painted on Sebek's face. "My darling's feet become frigid cold when they walk along the marble flooring. I think it's due time for it to get redone," he says while running his hands tenderly up your back and gazing at you with a ghost of a smile on his lips.

Sebek blinks, a strained smile sneaking up on his cheeks, "Well. I'm sure they can use slippers—"

"Nonsense." Malleus snarls, eyes flashing a luminous green. "How dare you even think of subjecting them to such a ludicrous act. Hmph. Using…slippers—How preposterous." 

"No. I think my way is much better." Shaking his head, Malleus turns back to the catalogue—paying no mind to the grief-stricken look on his retainer's face. "Now dearest, do you think burgundy would look good in the kitchen?"

───────────────────── · ·

—♰ SEBEK

Carries your sparkly pink purses for you, slay king<3

Sebek was not a fool. The fae was well aware he could be a bit…much at times. And even if he doesn't express it, he really values your nearly infinite patience with him. 

The boy was awkward at affection, and this is especially highlighted when it comes to anything involving romantic gestures. Even though your snappy crocodile was hard-headed and stubborn at times, he still showed you how much he cared in his own little ways. Even if it were something as simple as carrying your sparkly pink bag around the campus.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

"You ought to have known better than to jest so lightly about Diasomnia that way!" Sebek barks out, a leather-clad finger digging deep into Ace's chest. However, as opposed to being upset as Sebek had anticipated, the ginger chortles, muffled giggles sneaking past his clamped up lips.

"Sebek, buddy." Ace wheezes out, shoulders shaking from the strain of his suppressed laughter. "It's kinda hard to take you seriously…wh-when you have that."

The Heartslabyul runt gestures towards your designer purse, which was snugly resting against Sebek's bicep, slung over his shoulder. 

It was quite the eye-catcher. The sparkling pink diamonds of its handle twinkled a bright brilliant white, so bright in fact that it was almost blinding. 

Epel takes notice of the logo and crocodile keychain attached to it and he perks up.

"Oh, it's one of those girly-lookin' designer bags Vil is always yappin' about," Epel points out, squinting his eyes to get a better look at it. "Ain't that the prefect's bag?"

Unfazed by Ace's mocking, Sebek scoffs arrogantly, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Indeed, it is. As a knight-in-training, it is only right for me to possess the quality of a gentleman. Chivalrous acts like this are nothing to be ashamed of." He abruptly snapped his head over to glower at Ace, who was sitting rather comfortably in the cafeteria bench, crossing one leg over the over as he met Sebek's irritated stare. "Not that I anticipate someone like you to ever have experience with it.."

Sebek then rose from the table and strode boldly in the direction of your classroom, the pink bag swinging with each heavy step he took. Epel was leaning over the table, placing a shaky hand on Ace's shoulder as loud laughter racked through his body.

"Darn' right," Epel cackles, wiping the tears away from his eyes before turning to the ginger. "Nice ta' see someone still has sum chivalry…Unlike you, Ace."

The ginger visibly deflates, rolling his eyes as he mutters, "Yeah, yeah. We get it. He's down bad."

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[nikkento-writes]

Nanami is slowly sipping on his coffee at the dining table when you return home with the coveted box in your hands. You offered to pick up breakfast earlier this morning, promising to grab something extra special today, which you did. With a satisfied grin on your face, you display the box in front of him, waiting for his response. He glances at it, narrowing his eyes as if he’s trying to figure out what exactly he’s looking at. When he realizes what it is, his shoulders slump, giving you a disapproving look. “You didn’t.” 

You continue to smile at him. “I did.”

It’s a simple design of crudely doodled croissants with the words Petite Céréale scrawled across it. You heard about this online. Each piece is handmade the morning of, baked and buttered to perfection. Then, they’re dipped in a simple syrup, coated with cinnamon sugar, and lastly dehydrated. Because of this arduous process, it’s understandably the most expensive cereal in the world. And when you heard your local bakery would be making their own version of it, you knew you had to be one of the first to get your hands on it.

“How much?” His tone wavers on serious and amused, disappointed you’d give in to these silly viral food trends but simultaneously impressed by your tenacity to actually go through with it. 

You ignore his question, pointing at the box like one of those game show hosts presenting the grand prize. “Mini croissant cereal,” you say, hoping he’ll drop it. 

“Honey.”

“Mini. Croissant. Cereal,” you repeat with emphasis, beaming at him. “Just try it, Kento. If you absolutely hate it, then you can scold me later. But I have a feeling you’ll like this one.”

He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “I doubt it.” You can tell he’s remembering the last viral food you made him try, a ridiculously priced chocolate bar famous from Dubai. While it was good, he couldn’t justify the price you spent on them. For some reason, though, you’re confident in this one. 

You scoff at his pretend grumpy attitude as you rummage through your kitchen to retrieve a bowl, cold milk, and two spoons, one for you and one for him. Ready and excited, you sit next to him, opening the box carefully. His lips twitch, hiding a grin as he watches you, oohing and aahing over the outrageously expensive cereal. But even he can admit that the tiny golden croissants are impressive as you pull them out of the box. He lets out a soft, ���Wow,” as your eyes sparkle, marveling at the miniature pastries. 

When you open the packaging, the overwhelming aroma of freshly baked bread and butter instantly fills your nostrils. As you pour a decent amount into the bowl, the crisp of the dough taps against the ceramic, making a delightful sound. You both look down at it, inspecting it thoroughly for any imperfections; there’s none. 

Nanami does the honors and splashes milk over it, making sure not to put too much to prevent it from getting soggy. Together, you dig in, doing a cute little cheers before taking a bite. 

It’s heavenly, like nothing you’ve ever had before, especially from a cardboard cereal box. It has the perfect texture; crispy on the outsides, but as soon as you bite in, it’s flaky and crumbly, like how a flawless croissant should be. Even with the sugar coating, it’s not too sweet. And paired with the milk, it’s the perfect combination. Absolutely divine.  

You’re enjoying the moment too much before you finally realize how unusually quiet Nanami is being. By this time, he’d click his tongue at you and tell you how he doesn’t like it or how it isn’t worth the money. But to your delight and surprise, there’s a very special expression on his face: bliss. 

You wait until he finishes chewing to nudge him softly, “Well?”

He breaks out of his reverie to clear a pretend scratch in his throat. Unconvincingly, he replies, “It’s okay.”

You smile, satisfied with his response, eating the rest of the croissant cereal together in peace. 

[crownedwithstars]

I was thinking of Beren and Lúthien and how their story is so much more interesting than they get credit for. I mean, on the surface it reads like a fairy tale but it also elevates the rest of the story, it uses common fairy tale tropes but turns them upside down, and the way we see the heroine asserting her agency in this story is so fascinating. I think the story of Beren and Lúthien provides much needed contrast for the rest of the Silm, and both become more poignant because of this contrast. 

The familiar fairy tale goes like this: there's a a poor but resourceful peasant, set with a difficult task (which is in fact designed to be impossible to complete), but thanks to some magical help he is successful, retrieves treasure, and as a reward he wins the king's daughter and lives happily ever after as a prince, gaining all the earthly glory one can have in this life. But in the Tale of Beren and Lúthien, the hero is a traumatised outlaw, the king's daughter IS the magical help, she is an active and equal participant in the quest for her own hand in marriage, the treasure may actually be cursed, the hero and heroine die, and the ultimate reward is not a social rise from rags to riches. Beren does not become a member of the power-wielding elite of Doriath and he and Lúthien are not promised that their second life will be happy or long. But just that chance is worth it, and by choosing it they actually change the course of history. Lúthien is offered all the bliss that is possible to have in Arda, if she will give up Beren, but she decides that the love she has for him is still more valuable. And that idea, of loving someone so much that your love shifts the world, is so compelling to me. 

And I love that the story of Beren and Lúthien is also a rendition of Orpheus and Eurydice, and that just as the world was created in the Music of the Ainur, so is Lúthien's song powerful enough to change what those original notes dictated. She changes it with hope and a song. That is so simple and yet so beautiful, in the way some of the best myths are. (Insane that this is essentially a love-letter to Edith Tolkien.)

There is this fascinating contrast between Beren and Lúthien: at the time of their first meeting, Beren has lost literally everything and his family is either dead or lost beyond retrieval. Stumbling across Lúthien, he is fresh from terrible ordeals and suffering. But Lúthien's life has been full of happiness and without care, and she has lived in a literal fairy kingdom as the most beautiful of all the Children of Ilúvatar. She could have her pick of any prince of Eldar. But here she comes across this mortal, who has nothing to give except for his love and even that only for a brief time, and she is willing to risk all she has for it. The gall and courage it takes to take such a chance! She chooses this man and her choice changes everything. 

And that is brilliant! Because Lúthien starts with so little power and agency, and she is constantly belittled or even abused by those with more power around her. She is treated as a pawn, her will is undermined and she is coerced and imprisoned to make her compliant. But Lúthien shows her determination and courage in holding fast to her choice even when it's just her and Beren against the world. In the end, she wins agency and freedom to determine her own tale. In her beginning Lúthien is a maid dancing in the woods; by the end she will have faced Satan and death itself, and changed the world forever. Truly, to call her story "Release from Bondage" is more than appropriate. How insane is this all from Beren's point of view? He has lost everything, he is an outlaw, and has nowhere to go. What is left of his family is scattered who knows where. He has nothing but the clothes on his back and nothing to give. But here is this immortal princess, and she will go to hell and back with him! She will cross the Sundering Sea to bid him farewell! She pleads with inexorable death and for her, an exception is made!  It's so on brand for Tolkien that these two achieve with their love, and precisely because they act out of love, something that others with armies behind their backs can't even imagine doing.

Yeah. It's such a good, hopeful, bittersweet tale.

[hannahlesbean]

ANNABEL WITH PINK HAIR 🗣️🗣️

oKAY, so let me explain to you my delulu train for this drawing idea. First of all, as always I needed to prove my loyalty to my favorite Nevermore fanfic, so I started figuring out the next fanart concept when I stumbled across the first post on kazooaa's page. Which mostly is Lenore BUT, in one frame of Annabel's back the shadow looks like a pink shade. And then, it all came to me, ANNABEL WITH PINK HAIR.

Stay with me on this one, because my justification for this piece is worthy of art school and maybe the psychiatric hospital.

SO, the pink hair obviously reminded me of a certain cartoon character with pink hair and manipulative tendencies (slay), and of her convenient black-haired girlfriend who has also rockstar vibes. You can't judge me, I COULDN'T STOP SEEN THE PARALLELISM. Then, I'm sorry but I totally forgot the fanart and started doing a bubbleline version of Lenore and Annabel. Half way on the sketch, I didn't get the initial vibe of a rockstar vampire I intended for Lenore (totally my fault because in my mind Lenore would absolutely slay that aesthetic) Anyways, so last minute I changed her design (I basically removed her fangs) and came back to the original source.

Coming back to the original I realized the similar shirt of Marceline, and then by that came up with the Misfits merchandise. I don't want to flatter myself although the design is genius. And well, at that point I was exhausted from even doing a simple background.

If you went through all of that bible, THANK YOU, I LOVE YOU AND I HOPE YOU HAVE THE BEST DAY IN YOUR LIFE AND YOUR CRUSH KISSES YOU. Now on a serious note, thanks for the patience folks, see ya on my next vacation (suffering)

[sugoi-writes]

Nun! Alastor X Reader - Part 2 - The Confessional

HahahaHAH ITS HERE!

Warnings: serious filth and sacrilege, mentions of tentacles, some choking, fingering, oral (surprise for whose receiving~) and some really depraved confessions and convos. Cursing!!! Yay, sin! I hope you guys enjoy 💗 there will be a VERY important poll at the end, so be sure to give it a look 👀

Edit: I noticed a few mistakes on my 100th read-through, and made some changes. Apologies for that!

Never had you felt more nervous when stepping towards a chapel, hands wringing themselves soothingly. The sweat clung to your palms as you looked up towards the looming structure, head straining to take in the full magnitude of the building. The intricate stained-glass windows were illuminated under the moonlight, casting grand scenes across the earth at your feet.

In Hell, most sinners were more active at night. Depending on the Ring you would visit, you would likely run into 'unsavory' company. But thankfully, this humble part of the Pentagram was lulling with sleep, as if abiding by the arbitrary notion of a "Sabbath Day". How ironic.

You wet your lips, cursing yourself for not taking better care of yourself, before you quietly enter the building. Your eyes scanned the main hall, the room you had sat in not too long ago. Candles lit up the pulpit faithfully at the front of the chamber, while torches lined the perimeter. In this lighting, the room seemed so different, giving off the air of a deathly calm and peace; a juxtaposition to its normally bustling, jittery energy.

You almost called out into the dim room, but restrained yourself. You bowed your head, looking down cast before uttering a gentle apology for the intrusion. When you looked back up, you nodded, hyping yourself up before coming into the room further.

It is by this point that you hear something shuffling, your head snapping towards the sound. Your bravado was instantly dashed as you flew into a panic. Your eyes flash with fear, hands flying defensively upward... before you sigh with relief. You caught sight of a small, fuzzy mouse, scurrying away from you. False alarm, for now...

Your eyes scan your surroundings again, before you spy a short hallway. You step towards it, noticing that there appeared to be a private area. You squint in the dim light, spying a humble looking booth within the room.

Bingo. This must be where "confessions" occur.

You start to make your way down the hall, eager to meet with the Priest about redemption. Your head was high; you had genuine, innocent hope that this wouldn't be some money laundering, bait-and-switch scheme. And if it was... well, you just might punch a priest.

Your eyes observe paintings on the wall; you were surrounded by familiar depictions. The birth of Jesus, the Crucifixtion of Christ... the First Fallen Angel, Lucifer's decent. The rise of both Lilith and Lucifer in Hell... all of the depictions reminded you just how dire your predicament was, and how much you desperately wanted to leave hell.

In the last frame in the hallway, you spy a photograph, pausing to get a closer look. In the center, arms folded pridefully, there stood the Priest, St. Vox... among him, to both sides, stood honest though demonic looking nuns. You squint at the form to his right, unable to make out the face of the tall, slender Nun. All you could make out was a set of yellowed, razor sharp teeth smiling back at you. You shuddered, unable to shake the feeling you were being watched, before you entered the private room.

You were welcomed in perfect silence, your eyes trained on the confessional booth before you. A simple construction, for sure, but the carvings and finishes made the booth seem... expensive. You walked up to it, hand tracing intricate carvings of religious iconography. Snakes, the Forbidden Fruit, Angelic wings... a myriad of designs and carvings litered the enter frame. Had you had better lighting, you would take the time to appreciate it more... but you were here on strick business.

Without hesitation, you entered the booth, having a seat in the left side. You were not comforted by a cushion or pillow, the seat creaking under you. You flinched, the noise almost deafening in the resounding silence. And then, you waited, waiting for a sign of the Priest you sought to speak to.

When the bench in the booth to your left suddenly creaked, you nearly banged your head on ceiling. Your heart was in your throat, frightened; did the door even open??? How did someone get in there so quickly???

A throat was cleared, the sound of static crackle replaced with a low hum, before a familiar voice cut through.

"Child, I apologize for keeping you waiting. Sadly, there's no rest for the wicked, nor those who seek to help them." You sigh in relief as Vox speaks to you, shoulders instantly relaxing. You fold your hands neatly in your lap, looking towards the booth's door as you spoke.

"No worries! It uhh-- it wasn't for long, if that's what you're worried about. I... well, your Nun informed me that you had a chance to hear me out? I hope that I came at the correct time..."

Midnight, on the nose. Though some cultures differed, you were sure you were correct on this notion...

"My Child, you came at the perfect time. But, I must fulfill my duty to you; to listen first. What have you come to speak about?"

You leaned back as your thumbs twiddle, suddenly sheepish," Well... I know your methods of redemption usually come through... err, "offerings". Monetary ones, at that. I was wondering if you had ever seen anyone be saved? Redeemed and brought to Heaven on just... good will and sinless lifestyle alone?"

A dark chortle... then, an uproarious laughter fills the booth as you look in shock.

"Oh, dear Child, you are mistaken! A sinner is not capable of change! Nor is a sinner able to even fathom walking to the Heavenly Gates. No... the actions taken can never be washed clean... at least, not in Hell. What's done is done. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. But..."

You feel your skin crawl as you feel the Priest facing you, still unable to see him in the darkness of the booth, just behind a lattice-patterned divider.

"You mention humble offerings... now those have proven to make life in hell more... comfortable. Much more so than that of anyone. Offerings have the ability to keep you safe; make you privy to things that others are not." You shrink back from the voice as it draws closer, a characteristic glitch setting in the tone.

"I-- your money can make you safe. It can welcome you to my fold, dear... Or... if money isn't on the table... there are... other ways to earn favor in this sacred place."

Your face instantly morphed from bafflement to rage, anger brewing in your core," What-- what are you saying?!?"

The voice past the partition seems to smile a wider," Dear, I believe you know that your soul could be traded... for freedom. For pleasures. Who best to give it to than a Priest who can promise you untold riches? No salvation, but, comforts in this life time? I can give you that-- and SO much more!!!"

"Forget it!!!" You shrieked, standing firmly on your feet and slamming your fist into the wall," I do have a confession to make, after all!"

You feel your eyes welling with hot, angry tears as your words spew out, unabashed," I LOATHE your methods! I think that taking people's money for their loyalty is-- it's sick! Almost as sickening as buying their love with promises of salvation! You're just-- just some pompous, religious twat!"

You slam your fist into the partition again, feeling your anger bleeding into your physical form," I'll tell you-- I'll tell you that I think you're a fucking sham.. this whole Chapel is! The only GOOD thing you have in this building is your fucking Nun, Alastor!"

The voice from the other end does nothing to interrupt you, seemingly silenced by your fury.

"In fact-- I think I will go seek her-- him??? THEM out!!!"

The door to your booth is slammed open by your hand, as you trudge towards the door.

"I've had it with this discussion. You aren't here to help me. You're here to coerce me. And I'm not gonna listen to another word of your warped gospel, you cheap, conniving, greedy fUCKER--!"

You gasped when you were suddenly slammed into the wall, body pressed flush to it as someone pinned you from behind. You struggled, choking as the air was unintentionally pushed out of your lungs. You became frantic as the hot breath of the demon behind you fanned across your ear. Shit-- shit!!! You fucked up!

A sickening, twisted laughed bellowed in the chamber, the tone of voice morphed and unable.

"At last, Sweet Lamb... you've begun to see the light!"

You freeze, eyes straining to look behind you. The voice of the Priest was no more, replaced with the familiar, velveteen tone of the Nun. You opened your mouth, struggling to speak with no support," Y-You! This is-- please explain!" was all you could squeak out, before a neutral hum sounds behind you. You shuddered as it reverberated through you, no time to think as you were spun around.

Again, the Nun's body pinned your own, craning downward to look at your frightened face," Sadly, the Priest could not make it to Confessional tonight... But, I was more than happy to step in, in his absence." You trembled as his arms left deep rivets in the wall beside you, swallowing hard," And, to be frank, the help he would have offered you would have been the same; inadequate, even."

You stopped struggling as you locked eyes with the demon above you, swallowing shallowly as he spoke again.

"Now, as for helping you: I'm afraid the only entity who can divinely interfere with your predicament is the Lord and his Seraphims. Not even the Ruler of the Hells could hope to overwrite God's Will." You eyes turn downcast, face heating at the words. Of course... that would make sense. Only God and the angels can open the gates, right? How foolish an idea you had...

"However..." You felt a clawed finger beneath your jaw, beckoning you to look up. You were faced with the same, wide smile, eyes narrow slits filled with delight.

"There are things that a Saint, such as myself, can still offer to you..." Your eyes widen in recognition: Aha! So he WAS a man, afterall. You blink, shaking your head quizzically.

"I have SO many questions-- for one, why would you be parading as a Nun, if you're a Saint?" Alastor's grin grows a touch mischievous, before a weighed sigh leaves him," Alas, the Priest here struggles with... containing himself. He has a history of giving in to Earthly desires, time and time again. I can bring him much discomfort with just my voice, let alone my body... I am merely a vessel for the Lord, and yet he wishes to, well, lay his claim. And so, the habit conceals everything he can't keep his eyes off of; everything he is not permitted to touch by the Lord."

His neck tilts, cracking with the harsh angle as he looks to you," I think it's quite the sound idea, don't you think?"

Alastor leans back, his hips still pinning you to the wall. Your face heats hastily with embarrassment. He seemed to be gauging your every move, calculating what you may try while under his trap.

"Sure, right-- Okay... perverted Priest. Wouldnt be the first time I've heard of that..." You looked up shakily to the nun... saint...? You aren't sure what to call him anymore. Alastor quirks a brow up at you, egging you to speak.

"Okay, okay, second question: what are you implying that you can help me with?" You yelp as a knee comes between your legs, caging you again. Alastor bends down at the waist to match your height, his face growing closer to yours. With hands at either side of your head... you were still so close... and so, so trapped.

"I think we both know that you have something else to get off your chest... Thoughts that you've been plagued with, My Lamb." A slender, warm finger runs down your cheek, knuckle first, ending the trail just below your jaw. You gasp as Alastor comes impossibly closer, his fringe nearly brushing your forehead.

"Wh...what do you mean...?"

The Saint chuckles darkly, shaking his head," Oh, wayward one... your eyes betray you. They betrayed you the moment you looked into mine." You nearly squeaked as his other hand brushed through your hair, ensuring he could see your entire face.

"I saw you, even from across the room... Eyes wide in awe, wonder... You were completely spellbound by a riveting performance. You tried to look away, you shifted in your seat to silence your nerves... And yet: your eyes never strayed far from this Servant of the Lord."

You could feel his breath ghosting over your lips, subconsciously parting them as he continued to speak," Your body kept betraying your internal struggle, Little Lamb."

A choppy gasp as the hand in your hair ran down to your neck, lightly caressing and pressing to your pulse.

"I could sense your heartbeat, quivering and loud, with each movement I made, each inhale I had to take to sing. Each time I smiled just a touch more... I could almost taste the sweat that ran down your brow, your eyelids fluttering during the final chorus. Your thighs could only do so much to relieve the pressure that built up in you. You were enthralled... but not by the Lord's gospel: but by me."

His hand drifted down to your chest, settling over the very spot your heart should be. Your breathing quickened, your eyes never leaving his. You cursed yourself, biting your lip to stifle any shameful noise you might create.

St. Alastor's smile never wavered as he leaned over you, that familiar heat ghosting over your neck.

"I didn't miss the way that your pulse quickened when I walked closer... you hadn't even been a part of my original section, you know. But Sister Eunice was more than willing to switch. Your palms became clammy, eyes glassy as you tried desperately to plan your escape... And the moment my arms caught you, I knew for sure: you also struggle with impurities of the flesh. Specifically..."

You watched with baited breath as his hand drifted lower, until they landed on the hem of your bottoms, ghosting just above your core,"... you struggle to keep your thoughts, your body's reactions, at bay around me."

You gasp as you are groped by the large hand of the Saint, breath already ragged from his words," But... to know for sure, I need to hear these impurities come from your lips. The first step to forgiveness is confession; honesty. You must repent for your actions, in order to properly atone. So... is there anything you need to confess to, Bashful One?"

Your eyes glazed over, a familiar heat brewing downstairs as you felt his palm grind against your clothed sex. Your head rolled back, lip quivering as the Saint waited patiently. Your mouth fell open, a quiet sigh escaping you.

"Yes, there it is... let it out, Lamb. Don't hide in shame from the Lord. Embrace it-- embrace this--" You whined as your arms grabbed at his habit, his hands shifting and rubbing you through your clothing torturously. You try to stifle another moan, eyelids fluttering," Th-This is-- haaah!" You let your eyes fall closed, brows furrowing," Y-You have the wrong idea, I didn't come here to f-fuCK--"

You could barely contain yourself as you felt the hands of the Saint slip into your bottoms, fingers tracing a sensual line from the bottom of you slit, up to the pearl that sat atop it. You whined as Alastor pressed against it, unable to think clearly as he began to swirl two digits around your clit. His movements are slow, not to overwhelm you, eyes taking in your expressions to monitor your progression.

"St. Alastor! I--" you caved to the feeling, grinding into the saint's hand," I-I didn't come for this, but... I-I did think immoral things about you." Good choice, Alastor thought.

You bit your lip as you were rewarded a pinch to your bud, back arching off of the wall as you wailed," I-I-- fuck-- y-your voice was really-- mmph!" You grabbed onto the demon's shoulders above you, rooting yourself in place as you felt Alastor's pace increase.

"Hah... y-your hands looked-- feel-- so warm! Uhhn! Y-your eyes were--" Alastor pinches again, correcting you," A-Are--! Your eyes are s-so deep-- it feels like you were-- i-it felt like you were undressing me with them!"

A sly smile graces his face, leaning in to place chaste, innocent kisses to your neck," ...and perhaps they were, clever Lamb... Perhaps they were~" You whined at the notion, mouth hanging open as you continued your confession. You could hardly think straight as you felt his fingers quicken, your eyes beginning to lose focus. You trembled, knowing that this confession had been doing lewd thing to your mind and body.

"W-When you caught me, for a moment I felt- hah-- saAAaafee~" You mewl as Alastor's fingers move lower, teasing your entrance, where you desired his fingers the most. Your face was tilted further to the side, before you felt a wet, hot mouth suckling at the junction of your neck. You shuddered, fighting the mewl he tore from you so easily. Unsatisfied, you felt sharp teeth biting down, making you shriek with surprise. Pain was quickly replaced with a soothing pleasure, Alastor kissing and licking at the wound apologetically. You sighed, working up the mental capacity to speak again.

"I-I felt, no-- I needed those arms around me again. I wanted..." Boldly, you moved your arms from his shoulders, pulling lightly at Alastor's veil," I really wanted to see what was underneath all of this, too... call it a sin, but... I... I have nothing to hide anymore; not from you or the Lord."

You watch as Alastor's head doubles over, a shaky groan escaping him. When he looked back up at you, his eyes blended in with the rest of the room: they became pitch black.

"What an obedient, honest fucking pet you are, Little Lamb~"

Without warning, two fingers made their intrusion, but your silken heat was relaxed enough to take him. You cried out in bliss from the reward, tugging at the head dress again. Alastor simply kept going, leaning in to kiss your forehead as he thrust his digits up into your welcoming, quivering heat.

"Ahh, ahh~ I've taken an oath, little one. No one is permitted to see such secrets~"

You whine as you clamp down on his wet fingers, brows furrowing. You needed more; you demanded to see more. You didn't miss the way that Alastor hissed, brows furrowing at how tight you were. It seemed that he enjoyed the display far more than he let on...

Attempting to ground himself, his hand landed on your neck, holding you in place. The effect seemed to make you wetter, eyebrows raising with realization as your moans deepened. What an interesting revelation~ The Lord most certainly worked in mysterious ways!

He leans down to your ear, voice low and dripping with a sacrilegious heat," ...Tap once if you would like me to tighten my grip. Tap twice to stop it immediately." Your eyes, wide with desire, fluttered and rolled towards the ceiling, but you nodded nonetheless. If this was how all of your confessions would go... then you would become a zealot of the Lord and the Saint before sunrise.

You gave his shoulder a tap, hand landing there as you let his fingers explore and scissor the walls of your pussy. Alastor was happy to oblige, his hand squeezing your neck gently.

The action made your mouth run dry, your eyes glazing with desperate, passionate tears as his fingers thrust deliberately in your core.

Another tap to his shoulder, your eyes gazing into the flickering radio dials that had become Alastor's pupils. Again, Alastor was happy to amuse you.

You couldn't contort or stifle the noises you made, grunts and mewls the only music to leave your delicate throat. St. Alastor's hand squeezed as promised, making you flutter pathetically around him. You whined as you took in the nun turned god, your tongue hanging precariously out of your mouth. He smirked, a dangerous chortle bouncing off the chamber walls.

"Already at a loss for words, Lamb?" Alastor's fingers inside of you flex inward, pressing against a spot that made you see the pearly gates.

"My, my, your confessions will fall unto deaf ears at this rate~ Speak up, won't you? The Lord and I are granting you an audience~" He knew you couldn't speak; he knew and he didn't care. He just wanted to see you keen and struggle against him, unable to do anything but beg for more or stop this all together.

You couldn't even think of a sentence, let alone speak it into existence. Your lips flapped desperately, hands snaking up to grip at the wrist and hand on your throat. Your legs quaked, your eyes threatening to roll back as you gave a singular tap. Just one.

Alastor's eyes gleam with insidious joy as his smile expands.

Even tighter.

You felt your hips guiding themselves along Alastor's devout fingers, chasing a feeling that was hastily approaching. Alastor did little to stop you, intrigued by the display. At the intrusion of a third finger, a wanton dribble of saliva cascaded down your chin. A strangled groan: you certainly didnt mind the delicious stretch that your entrance underwent.

St. Alastor returned his attention to your face, licking a heated stripe across your parted, swollen lips. You sputtered with ecstacy, the feeling further spurring you on. You felt your coil tighten, your throat burning as you panted with reckless abandon.

"Come unto me, Little Lamb."

You needed little motivation, a silent scream gracing your face as you completely shut down. Your legs spasmed and stilled, heart racing as Alastor finally let go of your neck. Your voice was hoarse for a beat or two, hands instinctively going up to your neck. You felt a small, dried blood trail from the bite on your neck, trembling with the notion that he visibly marked you. If he didnt intend to own you, then he made a grave mistake.

You only whine as the feeling of his warm fingers left your core; this only managed to light a fire in you. You look back towards the Saint as your eyes lidded, a heavy sigh his only warning as you pushed him off of you. Alastor, surprised, caught himself with a pitch black tentacle that manifested behind him. You start to unbutton your bottoms, pushing them off of your hips before kicking them to the side. You start trudging towards the Saint with a renewed heat in your eyes. Alastor's grin nearly split his face in half as he watched you, completely overtaken by your desire to commit more sins.

Alastor tilts his head, taking deliberate paces away from you and towards the confessional booth. He had a grand idea!

"It seems that you are still plagued with impure thoughts. Tell me, Dear Lamb..." Alastor practically chuckles as he takes you by the wrist, tugging you off your feet and into the booth. You land harshly on his lap, the both of you groaning as you grind down on his firm, tall erection.

His tone was dangerous, a myriad of tenacles materializing around your limbs," What other impurities trouble you, my Lamb?" You grow impatient, boldly reaching for his lap before your hand is held aloft. Cursed tentacle!!!

"P-Please, Sister-- Saint Alastor," Your tone comes our more like a plea than a demand, as your other arm is held over your head. Your legs are spread apart, your bare cunt dribbling your essence; it drips down your glistening thighs in a tantalizing way.

"I have had thoughts of you f-fucking me... a-and I don't know how to b-b-- AHH!!" Your hips buck at an unfamiliar feeling, one of Alastor's tendrils caressing and teasing your entrance," I-I don't how to-- How to banish the thought... I-I may need higher intervention. I-I need your blessing, St. Alastor."

A prideful, malicious smile replaces the amusement on his face, long, slithering tongue dragging across his lips," Well, that is certainly a hefty demand! You poor, sinful wretch!"

You cry out in pleasure as the tentacle spears you, exploring parts much deeper than his fingers could reach. You felt your arousal slicken the foreign body, making the intrusion easier. A wanton moan sounds in the air everytime the tentacle thrusts into you.

Alastor stands on his feet, flicking a wrist as the tentacle's speed picks up. You were completely helpless to his whims, your eyes threatening to roll back as you are overcome by the tentacles' hold and movements. The Saint looked all too pleased as you heard the rustling of fabric. You tried to look down, but a tentacle covers your leering eyes, making you wail in frustration. Alastor tuts like a disappointed teacher, shaking his head.

"And here I was, about to reward you for your blatant, unabashed honesty... Should I stop? Should I call the Priest to finish the job? Or should I leave you here, tied up and aching for relief... Just to let any-old-sinner find you in such a state?"

You freeze, biting your lip as the tentacle slows to a painfully slow slog. You whine again, thrashing your head in protest," N-No, no, no...! Ughhnn, no please! Don't stop! I-I still want your blessing, Alastor! Pl-Please!"

A wicked laugh sounds in front of you as a hand snakes up your top, finding and fondling your right nipple. You jolt at the sensation, the feeling multiplied due to the lack of sight. You weren't expecting the tentacle inside of you to stir to life at the same time, now with a renewed, brutal pace. You were practically screaming at the onslaught, bouncing from every thrust you were gifted.

"Ohh, I knew you would succumb to God's Will, my dear... You see, we all fall helpless, begging at God's feet."

You feel yourself being dragged down until your knees hit the floor , your hands still held high above your head. You weren't expecting warm, firm flesh to land on your face, gently slapping at your parted lips. You could only speculate what it was, your thighs unable to clamp together.

"I must warn you, receiving my blessing can be quite taxing... do you still wish to accept it, Lamb?"

Your tongue comes out from your lips, swiping along Alastor's cock. You feel his hips stutter as you lick all that you could reach, your head already lightheaded from your desire to please him. You swirl your tongue around the head, the tip of your tongue teasing the slit in your movements. You heard a warning growl, a hand fisting your hair and holding you in place.

Still unable to see, you look up towards the noise, mouth wide open," G-Grace me with your blessing, Oh Shepard..." You could feel Alastor's breath hitching, trying to restrain himself.

"Guide this Lamb to the light of the Lord. Please.."

You were given no time to prepare as Alastor thrust into your mouth, his animalistic grunt your only solice. You were shell-shocked as he and the tentacle worked in tandem to break you. You swiveled your hips and met the thrusts from below, arching your back as your head was used as a personal cock sleeve. Though you wished to see Alastor's own lips, bruised and panting, his hair clinging to his forehead as he thrust into you... the feeling would have to surfice. And though you wanted to run your hands along his abdomen, raking your nails across his pistoning hips... you couldn't deny that the feel of the whole ordeal verged on the precipice of Nirvana.

You groans and mewls made his cock twitch and leak more precum, making your mouth even more slick for his movements. He couldn't deny how good this felt; he, himself, would have a lot to answer for later, in the privacy of the basement. He moaned as he thought of his future atonement, limbs spread and head to the floor to form the cross before a statue of Jesus. His fingers would be clawing into the floor as he recited his virtues and prayers, pleading forgiveness for a sin he felt no guilt for.

His mind clouded with visions of you, trying to seduce and distract him. Your hands would trace along his body and caressing his traitorous, sensitive tail. This information, for now, was still unknown to you...

He practically shouted from the pleasure your mouth offered him, one hand holding your face still while the other braced himself against the confession booth door and splinted the wood.

He was already approaching his climax, and by the looks of it, you were nearing your second. His smile strained as his hips lost their rhythm, opting to seek the feeling and not the motion.

"Fuck-- fuck, Lamb... oh, my sweet Lamb!!!"

You whined around Alastor's cock, your hands struggling against their restraints as you cunt throbbed with the desire to cum.

"You are so-- fuck, so fucking warm!" You felt your orgasm bubbling in your core, your tongue doing its best to carress and snake around his cock, welcoming his release with open mind and body.

"An obedient Lamb... worthy of my blessing!! Arggh-- b-blessings upon you, Lamb!! Take it! Take every last drop-- Hah--"

You gagged as Alastor bottomed out in your mouth, unable to pull away as his 'blessing' painted you white as snow. You shrieked around his cock as a new tentacle traced fast circles around your clit, forcing your release to hit you by surprise. You screamed into the climax, feeling a warm gush between you legs as you finally came undone.

Alastor pulled out of your mouth, his tentacles still touching and pulling you through your release. Your eyes are uncovered as Alastor kneels before you, kissing you hard and passionately. Your hands were soon freed, and so you tore off the damned veil. You began tangling your hands into the Saint's red and black locks, your euphoria starting to die down.

Once you felt like you were back in the right state of mind, you parted from Alastor's lips, a pleasant smile on your face. You looked down to your lap, embarrassed at the unmistakable puddle you left behind from your passions. Alastor looked too, eyes flicking back to yours as his grin softened.

"Worry not. I will handle this, Lamb. No one will know of this night. And your confessions will be safe with me."

"...REALLY now..."

The both of your freeze, looking to one another as a familiar voice sounds behind you.

"Y'know, confessions: they're supposed to be in a private, sacred place... and from your actions, this place has been sullied and desecrated."

The door to the booth flies open, Alastor and you both jumping from the sudden BANG. Your eyes widen in horror at the Demon who stood in the doorway.

"What do you both have to say for yourselves?"

[marauder-misprint]

Trust Fund

Sirius Black x Pettigrew!reader

5.7k words

cw: post-hogwarts, swearing, snogging, fluff

Being two years older than Peter, you did your best to not cross paths with him during the five years you shared at Hogwarts. You love your brother. That wasn’t why. You had just hoped that he would make his own path without being seen as your little brother, and he did. You didn’t pay attention to his friends either; you knew they were such a tight knit group that they were still living together now, after Hogwarts. Would you recognize any of them if you saw them out on the street? Probably not. 

You frequented a wizarding club near your apartment that you shared with one of your friends from Hogwarts, Marie. She never came with you, opting to spend time with her boyfriend rather than a room full of sweaty people drinking and dancing. Her loss. 

You usually left the club alone, despite the many times you’d be dancing with someone all night. Because you were such a regular, the bartenders and security guards all knew you, and they knew when you looked ever so slightly uncomfortable and when to step in. Without talking, they could tell when you were done with a person and they’d make sure you were okay when you were leaving. So, you always made it home safe to wake up slightly hungover in your own bed. 

You expect tonight to go no different. You don a simple skater dress; you like the way the skirt would flare as you spin while dancing. Add heels, makeup and jewelry and you’re ready to go. Marie is already gone off to her boyfriend’s by the time you leave. It’s a short enough walk to the club. You tap your wand on the graffiti door in an alley. It solidifies and you’re able to enter. The security guard just nods at you as you pass by some girls who look far too young to be there.

“Hey, why aren’t you asking her for ID?” one of the girls complains.

The guard glares at her and she slinks to the back of her group. You laugh to yourself. You didn’t mind the special treatment you were given as thanks for being a regular. As you step through the second set of doors, you’re greeted with colorful, flashing lights, a thin fog of artificial smoke and the smell of alcohol, sweat and a sweet perfume that you know is misted around intermittently to counteract the sweat. 

You wave to the bartender and he starts to make your usual drink. By the time you’ve moved through the small crowd between you and the bar, your drink is ready for you. You exchange your wand for your drink, as collateral to make sure you pay your tab at the end of the night. You lean against the bar, sipping your drink as you gaze around the club. Music is playing loudly, drowning out any conversation around you. You know you’ll need at least one more drink before you take the floor. Not too many people are here yet and you need more artificial confidence if you’re going to dance on a non-packed dance floor. 

Then the  bartender slides you a drink just as you finish the one in your hand.

“Oh, I didn’t ask for another one yet,” you say.

He leans forward across the bar. “It’s from the gentleman at the end, the one with the curly hair. Taking care of your tab tonight.”

You raise your eyebrows at the bartender after looking where he had briefly gestured. 

“Then, I guess I don’t mind if I do…” you say, picking up the glass and taking a sip. 

You know the guy is watching you, waiting. After a second sip, you abandon your spot to approach him. As you get closer, you see he’s wearing ripped jeans and a black t-shirt that looked like it once had a design or logo on it at one point but had faded away over time. Even closer, you notice the silver jewelry, on his hands, around his neck and in his ears. Damn, he’s attractive.

“So, Trust Fund, fancy a dance?” you ask before taking a sip of the drink he was paying for.

He cocks an eyebrow at you with a wide grin.

“I’d love one.”

You hold out your free hand for him to take so you can lead him out to the floor. It doesn’t take long for the guy to become touchy, but it’s a good touchy. His chest is pressed firmly into your back with his hands on your waist. His cologne breaks through perfumed air and perpetual smell of sweat. You welcome that. As you continue to dance together, his hands wander, down to your hips, back up to your waist, to your stomach and high, to your thighs. You can feel his breath on your neck. He is so close. 

More songs play and you dance face-to-face as well. He’s just as close for that, his hands resting on your arse. Smiles adorn both your faces. You’re so caught up in his grey eyes, which he is unable to take off of you. You feel oblivious to the rest of the club, but it’s not your fault. He’s just so enchanting, so enthralling.

After a few more drinks, a mix of alcohol and water to pace yourself, you excuse yourself for the loo.

“You, my handsome Trust Fund, better still be here when I get back.”

“How ‘bout I get us another round? Meet you here?”

You nod. And he is waiting for you when you return, two drinks in hand as promised. You’re feeling emboldened. You take the drink he’s holding out for you and you slam it. He watches you with wild eyes. He’s enraptured with you. Then he mirrors your action, slamming his own drink. You take his cup and place both of them on a nearby table. Then you grab his shirt and pull him close to you. It’s the kind of action that makes your intentions obvious, and he obliges, bringing your faces ever closer together until lips meet. He tastes of the alcohol he’s been drinking and faintly of cigarettes. It’s anything but gentle and sweet. It’s hungry and fueled by desire. It doesn’t take long for you to be pushed against the wall, his tongue basically down your throat. You had one arm wrapped around his waist and the other hand tangled in his hair. His were groping your arse and holding your hips in place. 

You’re not sure how long you’ve been attached to his face, but you break apart when someone near you says, “Get a room.”

You both laugh, resting foreheads against each other.

“My roommate isn’t home tonight,” you breathe. 

“Yeah?” 

You nod. Suddenly, you’re wearing matching grins. He throws an arm around your shoulder and leads you back to the bar, where he exchanges a small pile of galleons for your wands. You give the employees a sly smile, a silent “I’m okay.” The cool air of the night hits you with a wave of sobriety. The man next to you is still stunningly beautiful, which makes you smile to yourself. 

“You live ‘round here?” he asks, looking down at you.

“Yeah, just a few blocks. What about you, Trust Fund?”

“Same. Not too far.”

You turn in the direction of home, his body following your movements. Every once in a while, he presses a gentle kiss into your hairline. The sweet action makes your heart flutter. You know bringing him back to your flat is a signal for certain activities, but the affection he shows you on the way makes you wonder what will become of this. 

“This is my building,” you say once you’ve arrived.

He takes a moment to look at the street sign and building name. You’re not sure if he’s judging it or trying to memorize it.

“Okay, yeah, I know where we are,” he says after a moment. “I’m a bit that way.” He points diagonally backwards. “Would’ve been funny if we were in the same building though.”

“Well, we’re in the same building tonight,” you tell him, opening the front door and holding it open for him.

He follows you up a few flights of stairs and down the hallway to your door. The way he’s looking around, you think he’s counting each flight, each door you pass, so that if he had to come back without your help, he’d be able to.

“Trust Fund, you want tea?” you offer as soon as you lock the flat’s door behind you.

“Why’re you calling me that, huh?”

“What? Trust Fund?” you reply with a giggle.

He nods, tracing his hands up and down your arms as you stand in your kitchen. 

“Instead of buying me a singular drink, you picked up my whole tab before even seeing if I was interested.”

He hums. “Bartender said you’re there often. Maybe I figured your bank account could use a break.”

“You asked Craig about me?” you tease.

“Craig?” he laugh and runs a hand through his hair. “Of course you’re on a first name basis with the bartender. You’re there often.”

“And I do drink within my means. My bank account is just fine, thank you very much.”

“So you never… go a little crazy?”

You give him a sweet smile and tuck a curl behind his ear.

“I don’t need alcohol to go crazy.”

He gives you an amused smirk before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Yes, tea would be lovely.”

Quiet conversation flows naturally over your cups of tea. When the cups are empty, you place them in the sink. You feel his eyes watching you, as if taking your movements around your domicile. You begin to head to your room, but when you turn around, he’s still standing in your kitchen.

“Trust Fund, you coming? you ask suggestively.

He breaks out of whatever thought was holding him captive in his own head. He nods, a wide grin immediately appearing. He follows you into your room and closes the door behind you. Sure, your roommate wasn’t home now, but she came home early, there were things she didn’t need to see. 

---

You wake up to an empty bed. Part of you wonders if maybe you’d had too much to drink last night and the beautiful man you’d brought home was all a dream. That is, until you actually get up. Marie is in the kitchen, sipping a cup of tea. She smiles with a wicked glint in her eyes when she sees you. 

“I see you had fun last night.”

Your hand immediately snaps to your neck. If you had love bites on your neck, then he wasn’t a dream. 

She laughs loudly. “I wasn’t talking about that! Check the fridge.”

You see a note placed under one of the magnets. 

‘Text me sometime -Trust Fund <3’ with his number underneath.

“Trust Fund?” Marie asks after you smile at the note.

“This guy, absolutely stunning by the way, starts off with handling my entire tab before even saying hi. And even if he asked Craig the bartender how much I usually drink, that’s such a ballsy move.”

“And you brought him home.”

“Like I said, he was stunning.” 

“Was he… any good?”

You blush furiously and look away. He had been. The best you’d had in years. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she giggles before loudly sipping her tea.

You move to put the kettle on with a roll of your eyes. As you wait for the water to boil, you reread the short note on the fridge. You like his handwriting, full of flourishes and flair. It fit his style. The note itself made your stomach flip. It meant that he had a good enough time last night too, enough that he wanted to see you again. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about what to text him or when to text him. You didn’t want to come off as too eager, but you didn’t want to wait too long and risk him becoming uninterested or thinking you just got lonely and wanted attention. You’re sitting on the couch with the TV on, but you’re not paying attention to it. You’re staring at your phone. You haven’t texted him yet, but you want to. Boy, do you want to.

“Merlin, just text him,” Marie says, coming out of her room. 

“I don’t want to look-”

“He wouldn’t have left his number if he didn’t want you to text him,” she cuts you off. “I’m sure he’d love to see you again, which he can’t do until you text him.”

“He knows where I live,” you point out.

“That’s just an excuse! Text. Him.”

“Marie,” you whine.

“Do you want to see him again?” she asks, crossing her arms and leaning against the kitchen counter. 

“Yes.”

“Then text him. Doesn’t have to be much.”

“Like I can just say hi?”

“Yes! It’s not that difficult.”

“Says the girl who’s been dating her boyfriend since sixth year.”

“Whatever,” Marie laughs. “Speaking of, I’m off to Theo’s. You better have texted that poor sod by the time I’m back.”

You open your messaging app as soon as Marie is out the front door.

[Hey Trust Fund :)]

Your phone makes a swooshing noise as the text sends. And you wait. And wait. You stare at the phone. The TV provides background noise for your unraveling thoughts. 

Did I wait too long to text? Did I not wait long enough? Was ‘Hey’ the wrong thing to say? What if he left the wrong number to mess with me? What if last night wasn’t as enjoyable for him as it was for me and he left his number to appear polite but has no intentions of seeing me again? What if-

Your phone dings. His message lights up your screen.

{hey sweetheart - sorry i had to leave, work :/}

[Who goes to the club when they work in the morning?]

{fun people}

[Where do you work?]

{trying to stalk me?}

[Curious to see where Trust Fund gets his money]

{the record store on cornwallis ln}

{always slow in the morning}

It’s fitting that he works in a music store; over the tea last night, he talked a faer bit about his favorite bands, one of which was on his shirt, despite it being so faded. You realize you’re smiling at your phone. You sigh and decide to be bold.

[Hope it’s not too forward, but I’d like to see you again. Last night was fun]

He doesn’t respond as quickly as he had been. You click the off button on your phone to make the screen go dark as you begin to internally panic. Maybe it was too forward. Too quick to suggest seeing him again. 

Then your screen lights up again.

{i’d love that - busy wed evening?}

He’d love that. Your panic immediately subsides. 

[Nope, but I am now ;)]

---

He suggested a local cafe that did cocktail nights with live music. He’d been to a few of them before, describing it as a laidback scene, casual. It sounded like a good idea so you agreed. You had spent far too long staring at your closest deciding what to wear, only to end up in jeans and a flowy top. A cute outfit but not as “trying hard” as a different skater dress or a skirt would have been. He had said he would meet you outside your building and you’d be able to walk there together. 

“Hey gorgeous!” he calls out as he approaches you. He’s wearing jeans, no rips this time, and a different band tee. 

You feel more confident in your outfit. 

“Hey Trust Fund.”

“Oh, still calling me that, are you?”

You laugh, “Well, I don’t actually know your name…”

“Never came up, did it?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. Then you hold out your hand and say your first name.

He takes your hand to shake it and laughs with you. “Sirius.”

“Like the star?”

“Surprised you know it.” You give him a do I look stupid look. “Not in that way! Most people just don’t recognize it.”

You watch him take out his phone and go to what you assume is your contact.

“Aw, I’m there as pretty thing? That’s cute! You should keep it!”

“You are, no doubt. That’s why that’s what I went with. But I like names, nicknames. Helps me keep track of who’s who, you know?”

“Got a couple pretty things in your phone?”

He flushes at your teasing. 

“No,” he says slowly. “But I do have roommates who like to steal my phone and change all of the contact names. If they saw one pretty thing, every. single. contact. would be pretty thing and I’d have to spend hours figuring out which one is you.”

“Well, you’re staying as Trust Fund,” you say with a cheeky smile. “Plus, my brother would probably look at my phone and ask ‘why are you texting a star?’”

“You got a brother?” 

“Yup. Just one. What about you? Any siblings?”

“One brother too. We’re not too close.”

“Huh,” you say. “I’m not close with mine either. Siblings, what can I say?”

You both laugh and start to walk to the cafe. 

---

It quickly becomes a thing where you and Sirius are seeing each other in person at least once a week, and texting and calling multiple times a day. It wasn’t like you were codependent already. Sirius was just intoxicating, you were addicted to him. You wanted to share everything little thing that happened with him, and the feeling was reciprocated. And you wanted to share him with the people around you. You talked Marie and Theo’s ears off about him. 

“You sound absolutely smitten,” Theo laughs one evening when he and Marie decided for a night in at your shared flat rather than his. 

“Smitten?” Marie asks, shocked. “She’s obsessed! Try asking her about her work, about her other friends, literally anything else. She will somehow tie it back to this boy.”

You shrug. “Not my fault all topics lead back to him.”

“Apparently it’s my fault for encouraging you to text him. If I hadn’t meddled in your love life, you’d still be single and I would still have my sanity.”

“You lost that a long time ago,” Theo says, wrapping his arms around Marie.

“Theo, you’d love him.” Your eyes light up. “We should do a double date!”

“At least let me meet him first before you force him upon Theo! I think roommate ranks higher than roommate’s boyfriend!” 

Sirius, on the other hand, kept you to himself as much as he could. While he didn’t gush to his friends about you, they still knew how much you meant to him, even if they didn’t know your name yet. It was the way he jumped for his phone when your text notification echoed through the flat, the way he smiled when you called and then immediately took the call in a different room, the way he spent a little extra time to make sure he looked good before leaving the flat to meet you somewhere. 

“Off to see my girl, later dudes,” was yelled as he left, leaving the boys to share a knowing look.

Sirius was serious about this girl. And for them to get a little more information out of him all they needed to do was get some alcohol in him. They were hosting game night with some of their Hogwarts friends. As always, drinks were flowing and Sirius wasn’t holding himself back. 

“Sirius, I have a question for you,” Lily says, cornering him in the kitchen as he went to retrieve another beer from the fridge.

“Shoot, Evans,” Sirius says nonchalantly. 

“James says you got a girlfriend,” she says. 

He cracks open the beer and takes a swig. “That’s a statement, love.”

“You’re not denying it,” she retorts, a smile creeping onto her face. 

“How come you’re talking about my lovelife with Prongs?”

Lily laughs as they return to the group.

“Talking about it is certainly one way to describe it. More like he was complaining that you haven’t brought her round yet.”

“Who hasn’t been brought around?” Mary asks, looking up from her cards. 

“Sirius got himself a proper girlfriend.”

“Proper?” Mary questions. “How proper we talking?”

“Smiling at his phone and hour-long calls,” Remus answers for Sirius.

“Oh! So this is serious!” Marlene exclaims.

“I’m always Sirius,” he replies as he plops down onto the couch next to Remus.

“So you’re going to tell us about her, yeah?” Marlene says, her voice implying it was more of a statement than a request.

The alcohol impedes his decision-making skills. So the first thing he says about you is…

“She’s on a first-name basis with the bartender at the club where we met.”

Lily chokes on her drink.

“She’s an alcoholic?” Peter gasps.

“No! No. No. She just goes, went? Goes there often. Dunno. But damn, she’s captivating as well.” He hums. “I like her. A lot.”

“He admits it!” James says, nudging Lily. “He admits it.”

“Yeah, I heard him, babe.”

“O’ course I admit it,” Sirius says a snippy. “She didn’t mind going to that cocktail cafe.”

“Still sounding like an alcoholic…” Peter murmurs.

Mary slaps his shoulder. “Be nice.”

“She likes to dance. She danced with me at the cafe,” Sirius says before taking another swig of beer. “We walked around that muggle art exhibit and she actually knew stuff ‘bout it. Like composition and whatnot. She’s smart like that.”

“Drinks, dances and knows art… Sounds like a keeper,” Remus says with a laugh.

“Do you have like cute nicknames for each other yet? Lil pet names?” Mary asks.

Sirius smiles widely. “Yeah! Well, she does for me. She has me in her phone as Trust Fund.”

The group just stares at him blankly, which wasn’t the reaction he was expecting.

“What?” 

“Trust Fund?” Lily asks, furrowing her brows. “So she’s dating you for your money?”

SIrius’ eyes go wide in realization. That nickname needed its backstory.

“No! No, Godric no. The night I met her, I told the bartender I’d pay for her entire tab before I even said hi. So she assumed I had money to fall back on and called me that all night.”

“Certainly one thing to moan in bed…” Peter mumbled, earning himself another light slap from Mary.

Sirius didn’t give him a reaction.

“And then later, she said that if she put Sirius in her phone, her brother would ask why she’s texting a star,” Sirius continued with a laugh.

The air in the room eases. 

“She knows I have a job! And she does too. Honestly, the Black fortune hasn’t come up. She’s not like that.”

“Sirius, we believe you,” Marlene says. “What is she in your phone?”

“Her name with a black heart emoji.”

“Classy,” Remus slurs.

“Shut up,” Sirius says, but his words have no bite.

He’s just smiling into his beer can. 

The next day as he’s cleaning up from game night, Sirius steps into Peter’s room. If he was going to run the dishwasher, he wanted all the dishes and Peter had a habit of hoarding his used cups. A picture of Peter’s family on vacation sitting on the dresser catches Sirius’ eye. Peter is really young in the old photo which Sirius assumes was taken sometime pre-Hogwarts. He can’t help but think the girl standing next to Peter looks vaguely familiar. He probably just recognizes her from Hogwarts, being that she is Peter’s sister, he tells himself, unable to completely place the face. He doesn’t think much of it, grabbing two rather large stacks of cups and leaving Peter’s room. 

In the kitchen, he organizes the cups into the dishwasher and starts it up. Then he moves around the living room, picking up wrappers and cans. 

“Since when do you clean up after game night?” Remus asks, leaning against the doorframe of his room. His voice is scratchy from just waking up.

Looking down at the rubbish in his hands, Sirius says, “I guess since today?”

“What’s eating your mind then?”

“Huh?”

“Padfoot, I’ve lived with you for about half my life. You’re acting like an elf. What’s going on?”

“Just thinking about her.” 

“And that has you cleaning?”

“She’s just… unreal.”

“Unreal,” Remus repeats back to him. 

“Haven’t felt like this about a girl before, Moony. All those Hogwarts girls? They don’t compare.”

Remus chuckles and stands up straighter before walking over to Sirius. He places his hands on Sirius’ shoulder.

“Sounds like you fell quick and hard, m’friend.”

“Fell…”

“If you like her more than all the girls from school… Sirius, you might be in love.”

---

“Hey, Wormtail, where you off to? I thought we were having roommate dinner?” James calls from the kitchen of the boys’ flat. 

“I told you I couldn’t tonight,” he says as he pulls on a coat. “I got that family dinner.”

“Ugh, I forgot!” James groans.

“Is it like national family dinner night or something?” Sirius asks, joining James in the kitchen. 

“Dunno, why?”

“Girlfriend’s got family dinner tonight too.”

“Speaking of,” Remus says from where he’s sat in the living room, “when do we get to meet this amazing chick?

Sirius shrugs. “Whenever I decide she’s ready to handle a game night with you bastards.”

“Alright, that’s it. I’m outtie!” Peter calls before the front door slams behind him and the rest of the boys hear the lock turn. 

“Just give us some warning before she comes over, yeah? We’ll clean up a bit,” Remus says with a wink. 

“And if it’s for a game night, we can invite the girls too!” James adds. “Lils, Marlene, Dorcas, Mary. The whole gang.”

“Yeah, and we can invite Reg, and Evan and Junior, and Pandora too. Then I’ll take her to meet my parents immediately after,” Sirius replies sarcastically.

The boys give him blank looks.

“The whole Hogwarts gang might be a bit much. You lot are a bit much, but not much I can do ‘bout that,” he explains.

“Aw, he doesn’t want to scare her off,” Remus coos, joining the other two in the kitchen.

“No, I don’t,” Sirius says firmly. “Now what are you making, Prongs? I’m getting hungry.”

“Spaghetti. Remus, what sauces we got?”

Remus opens the cupboard with a squeak. “Ah, looks like red sauce, red sauce number two, white sauce, green sauce… third red sauce.” 

“Eh. Pick one of the reds.” James looks over his shoulder at Sirius, who is leaning against the counter. “For a girl you’re obsessed with, we still don’t actually know her name.”

---

Peter’s already there when you arrive at your parents’ house. He’s talking with your dad as they set the table. Your mum is in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on dinner. 

“Smells like I arrived just in time!” you say, taking off your coat.

“I’m setting the table, you’re clearing it,” Peter informs you.

“Darling, go help your mother bring the food to the table,” your dad says.

You do help your mum set the table and you sit down as a family. Since you and Peter don’t live too far away, your parents try to have dinner once a month to catch up. Your dad rants about the people he works with. Your mum discusses the gossip from her book club. Peter starts talking about a movie that he saw with some of his roommates. 

“Oh, I saw that movie with my boyfriend!” you interject.

“You have a boyfriend?” your mum asks, clearly intrigued. “This is new!”

“Yeah, it is. Only been official for a week or so now.”

“You were going to tell us… when?” your dad asks.

You roll your eyes. “I was going to, Dad. I’m an adult, I don’t have to tell you about everyone I date.”

“There’s more?” your mum nearly exclaims.

“Not really, no, but the point is I don’t have to tell you. Until I’m sure they are sticking around for a while.”

“Yeah? You like this one?” Peter asks, putting down his fork. 

“I do, Pete. He’s a good guy.”

“Didn’t you say that about your fifth year boyfriend?”

You snort a laugh. “Don’t go bringing Diggory into this.”

“So, where did you meet this fellow?” your dad asks, trying to avoid a sibling argument. 

Peter never liked Amos Diggory and, while he had treated you kindly for a while, Amos ended up cheating on you. You shut down for a while, which you still think is a perfectly normal reaction, but Peter was concerned for his big sister. 

“Ah, um, well,” you stumble over your words. “This little cafe near my flat.”

You were not going to tell your parents that you met your boyfriend at a club. Meeting at a cafe was a much cuter scenario that kept their internal image of their pristine daughter. You assumed they knew you weren’t pristine, but it was one of those things you don’t talk about with your parents unless you have to. It was easier that way. 

“That’s nice, sweetie. Pete, you seeing anyone?” your mum asks, taking the attention off you for a moment. 

Peter blushes. “No. Been focused on work.”

“Whatever happened between you and that girl… what’s her name… She went to school with you?”

“Really narrows it down, Mum.”

“Martha?” 

“Mary?” Peter all but gasps. He blushes deeper. “Nothing ever really happened with her.”

“So that Appleby Arrows?” you ask your dad. 

Peter didn’t need to discuss a failed attempt at a relationship with your parents. The fact that they knew about it was embarrassing enough. You knew the two were still friends; from what you had heard, he wanted a relationship and she didn’t so they somehow managed to be friendly for the friend group’s sake. Peter gave you a thankful look and you both filled your mouths with your mum’s cooking as your dad started ranting about the most recent match and the horrendous officiating. 

---

“Didn’t we go to school with someone named Sirius?” Marie muses later in the week.

When you first told her your boyfriend’s name, she laughed. It’s just such an odd name, she had said. And now, she was thinking they knew someone else with that name, especially after she told Theo and he brought up school. 

“Probably? He’s a wizard living in London. I would not be surprised if he went to Hogwarts.”

“But surely we’d recognize him then.”

“I don’t know. I guess I’ll ask next time I see him. But I can’t say I really paid attention to anyone younger than us, so even if he did, it doesn’t matter.”

“I keep forgetting he’s younger!” she exclaims. “You usually go for the older dudes.”

“Older dudes go for me,” you correct her, a smile playing at your lips. “Sirius just works though, you know?”

“If he makes you happy, I’m happy. I’m not the one snogging him on our couch.”

You laugh. “At least I do it when you’re not home.”

“And I go to Theo’s.”

You clink your glasses in solidarity. 

---

You’re laying on the couch with Sirius, watching an American forensic TV show, when you remember that conversation with Marie. You figure now is as good of a time as any.

“Sirius?”

“Hm?”

“Did you go to Hogwarts?”

“Uh, yeah, I did.”

You hum. “What house were you in?”

“Gryffindor?”

“Oh! You probably know my brother then.”

“Yeah?” he says, looking down at you in his arms. “What’s his name?”

“Peter.”

Sirius sits up, forcing you out of his embrace, with his eyes wide.

“Peter as in Peter Pettigrew?”

“Yeah.”

You move out of his way as he stands up and begins pacing. You watch him, unsure of his reaction.

“Sirius?”

“I’m dating my best friend’s sister? How did… what?” 

My best friend’s sister. So that meant that he was Peter’s roommate now too. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. Sirius is pacing and muttering confused fragments to himself.

“Sirius?” 

“You’re a Pettigrew?” he asks, pausing for a moment to look at you.

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

He doesn’t answer right away. That stings. He runs a hand through his hair and starts pacing again. The girl in the photo in Peter’s room is you.

“No, it’s not a problem,” he says after a few paces. “It’s just… just… very, very unexpected?” 

You stand up and go to hold his shoulders, stopping his pacing. 

“It’s good we figured this out before we ended up at your place, yeah?”

He groans but it’s lighthearted. “Godric, that’d be embarrassing.” He pauses as he thinks. “Shit, that’s going to be embarrassing. ‘Hey, Peter. This is my girlfriend. You know her as your sister.’”

Sirius forcefully rests his forehead on your shoulder. You card your fingers through his hair to comfort him. 

“Well, it’s that or you wait for a Pettigrew family event and I introduce you as ‘Sirius, my boyfriend, and Peter’s longtime best friend.’”

“That’s not any better,” he says to your shoulder. 

“We have to tell him at some point.”

“Do we?”

“Probably. Guess it depends on how serious this is.”

“This?”

“Us.” You pause and lean backwards so Sirius has to lift his head back up. “There is still an us, right?”

“Yeah, yes, of course,” he says rushed. “Sorry, my brain is-”

“Taking it all in. Yeah.” You offer him a soft smile before it falls from your face. “Wait, so what’s your surname?”

He laughs. “Legally, Black. Sirius Orion Black. But the Potters basically adopted me when I ran away.”

“Potters… Jake or something?”

“James.”

“Ah… How did our surnames never come up?”

“You were the one who calls me Trust Fund.”

“You’re a Black!” you exclaim, dots connecting. “You are a trust fund! I knew it!”

“Dating me for my money are you?” he teases.

“You paid my tab first. That’s on you.” You lean up to kiss his nose. “And then you won me over by being irresistibly you.” 

“Aw, don’t make me blush.” 

“I think it’s my life goal now.” 

lol this has been sitting in my drafts for a while - was fun to write and polish up

[narfin-frood]

Silly question but how do you art?

Or more like, how is your process to draw? Your lines and posing are so loose and show the feeling of a character so well, like, how do you make your art so real with only a few lines is what most amaze me. Anyway I hope I'm not bothering you and that makes sense, thanks for reading!<3

you're not a bother, don't worry! i'm not sure if there's an appropriately concise answer to a question like this, but i'll try to explain my process for poses a bit, and if there's anything else specific you'd like to know about my process, feel free to ask, and i'll try to answer!

for posing, i find it's very helpful to start by thinking about what situation the character is in. you don't need a location or a background or anything (unless you're being #serious about it). for this, i chose "picking up something way too heavy" (cont. under cut, wall of text ahead)

keeping it very simple is key!!! do not worry about details!!! i am very bad at this. i love to add a little detail or two, like his eyes or his little expression, but i have to catch myself before i get too into it, otherwise i'll forget the point of what i was doing and/or get bored. use just enough strokes to get the point across, and stop there (for now).

i draw fast and loose, with long strokes, which also happens to help with the problem that happens if you start with any specific part of the body. it's important to start with... everything at once, or else you won't be able to see what needs to be changed or fixed until it's too late and you've already decided on where you want the head and the left arm to be!

to display effort & strain without just contorting the character's face, you gotta think about just how heavy the object is, how one would go about grabbing it comfortably, and whether your character is smart enough to lift with their legs.

wander is great (read: BEST CHARACTER DESIGN EVAR. i love him kisskisskiss) because he's not grounded in any sort of reality until necessary, and his limbs have no bones, but he still has specific proportions and volumes to refer back to if you get carried away with the wackiness. posing a character made up of several noodles of varying widths is very simple, because you can do basically whatever you want to push and pull and make it as clear (and/or as funny) as possible.

start with your line of action, in this case the long line connecting his neck and his left foot. think about where the floor is, so you can make the feet of your character and whatever else is touching it coexist in the same reality. think about clarity: big, simple shapes are your friends, and if you're not getting the gist of the pose through the silhouette alone, try again! there's NO shame in hiding the first layer and doing a couple more sketches until you land on something you really like. Don't polish a turd, especially if you yourself think it's a turd. it'll make you feel like you're wasting time, and drawing is about having fun and experimenting, so if it's getting boring or frustrating, it's time to try something else.

wander and other characters with no bones and no rules are great for posing because you can do things like make their arms bend the wrong way just to play with the clarity of the pose. this:

un-breaks the arms and makes a little more sense for somebody with elbows, but some clarity in the action is lost when the arms don't curve upward and away from the very heavy object he's straining to pick up.

grounding your characters is both more complex and easier than it sounds, and it unfortunately requires you to think about perspective (i know. i know. i know it sucks and it's confusing. i hated it for a very long time but once it clicks, you'll have it in your brain forever)

fudging a perspective grid is fairly easy, just draw several parallel lines and have them get closer to each other as they recede into the distance, and then do it again in the opposite direction. you can use the transform tool in whatever program you use most to fudge this for even less effort, by just getting a png of a grid and fucking with it

now that you've got your floor, think about those feet. the grid makes it fairly easy to envision how a shoe would look sitting on that floor:

this is also where having an understanding of volumes comes in handy, because things farther in the distance will in fact look smaller, but it's up to you to figure out just how much smaller it would be in comparison to the other identical thing with the same volume that's closer to the camera. usually it's almost negligible, but it becomes easy to spot if it's a little off.

and here's the pose i settled on! i made his noodle arms more extreme for extra XD factor and i put him on his tippy toes for that extra bit of height!

a lot of the principles i'm talking about in this post i mainly pick up from consciously watching my favorite cartoons (and live action shows) and if i really, really like the way something is done, or if i see something that i've never really registered before, i'll screencap it or i'll pause or i'll just keep thinking about it until i draw again.

this is called "building a visual library" and it's the #1 easiest and most important way to practice. it requires no drawing, unless you want it to. look at lots of art by artists you love, and if you see something and you think to yourself, hey, this looks really good, by all means, absorb it.

art is great and it's really fun and there's literally nothing wrong with taking inspiration where you can find it!! seriously!!! absorb your favorite parts of every art style you find cool and fun and put it into your own! you're the only person who can draw the way you draw, and while replicating an art style is fairly easy (or it can be, depending), matching it perfectly is Literally impossible, so don't worry about being derivative. Nobody will notice, and if they do, it's okay to say you're inspired by them! encouraged, even!

my own art style, like everybody else's, is a frankenstein's monster containing all of the things i've loved before!!! and i think thats beautiful and if anybody tries to tell you you've gotta be 100% original and have "your very own style", they're a filthy liar and they're definitely (consciously or not) already taking inspiration and reference from the things they themselves find cool and awesome.

ANYWAY. wall of text over.

TLDR: draw quickly, use long strokes (try not to pet your lines), have a specific situation to put your character in, get familiar with volumes and proportions, and have fun!!!

[chaoticgoblindev]

The Pollen Dilemma

Pairing: Leona x Fem!Reader

Pronouns used: She/Her

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, smut, dedagration, praise, p in v, cussing, unprotected!sex, fem!reader, f!ngering, oral!giving, the reader is called "yuu".

Summary: With the ADeuce Duo and Grim, assignments are sure to go wrong. This time around, you earned a memorable encounter with a grumpy lion man.

A/N: based on a request, hope you enjoy🫶

Leona was pissed.

And no, it wasn't because his nap was ruined, it wasn't from being pestered by teachers, it wasn't even because of his family. The reason for his foul mood was simple and complex…

You. His herbivore. His bunny.

Everything began with a science project with the ADeuce Duo and Grim. Things were fine until they weren’t, on top of having to clean and help restore the alchemy lab to its former state, you now had to redo the assignment from scratch and within the day. It seemed Crewel was angrier than usual this time around. (but who could blame him when his pups always cause trouble.)

It fell to you, once again, to make sure everything was done correctly. If you were to be honest with yourself for once, it was exhausting. Cleaning the alchemy lab had taken a good 2 hours even with multiple people, 2 of which attempted to slack off. 

“Okay, now that everything is clean… We should start doing our project.” You sighed wearily and began to turn to face the designated cauldron that Deuce conveniently summoned.

Ace and Grim were sitting and slouching across the table and watched as you began gathering the required ingredients. 

“Come on, can’t we have a small break?” The ginger groaned as he began to spin his magic pen around. Grim added onto that with a whiny agreement which only added to your foul mood.

Deuce’s eyes flicked between the slouchers and his stressed friend. “Come on, the quicker we get this done the sooner we can relax. It’s our fault we are here anyway.” His attempt to ease the stress off your back by reminding his friends had made you smile faintly. Deuce was always intuitive and emotionally like that, even if he was just a tad delayed in getting the big picture. You nodded to him with thanks, something he mimicked.

The project was going smoothly again, the ingredients were added correctly, and the heating temperature was maintained perfectly. In a way, it reminds you of cooking. Eventually, it came down to the final stretch, adding pollen from a mystical flower said to have great regenerable abilities. The trick was having to add the mixture consistently and slowly at a set boiling temperature. Easy enough right? Wrong.

“Wait Grim don’t, that's the wrong side of the lid!” You shrieked, seeing the container pointed down at the cauldron on an open spout rather than a sprinkle. Grim had yanked back the pollen but it was too late, a big chunk of the flower dust fell into the cauldron. Seeing how this could go wrong from previous events, you ran towards Grim, grabbing him by the collar and tossing him to Ace. Ace caught him, eye widening seeing the cauldron bubbling and sparking.

“Get down!” Someone yelled as you pushed your friend to the ground and shielded them, your back facing the cauldron.

Poof!

Turning around you saw that yellow dust had exploded and landed in the areas close to the cauldron. The cleanup didn’t look like it would be too bad. But the project surely had to be redone. Again. 

“DAMMIT GRIM!” You bellowed, the stress rage finally snapping. You know it wasn’t his fault, it was an accident sure, but that didn’t stop you from taking it out on your friends. “How is it so damn hard for y’all to just complete one lesson without screwing it up!”

Grim looked dejected, his ears pinned and eyes wide which made Ace step in. “Woah! Prefect, it was an accident so chill out. We will just redo it and be extra careful this time, no need to yell.”

“We wouldn’t have to redo it if y’all would stop being so careless. Just get out and go.” You seethed, crossing your arms, “I will complete the project myself, and we will all get the same credit. Just. Go.” 

Deuce was quiet, and began ushering the other two out of the room. He at least understood your anger but it didn’t stop him from feeling a bit hurt at your harsh words.

In the silence of the lab, you sunk to your knees with a frustrated groan. You would apologize later, but as of now, you had to clean up and redo the project. When you grabbed the broom from the nearby closet, you noticed some of the pollen mixture had landed on your sleeve. On closer examination, you noticed it trailed all across your lab coat and your whole backside. 

“Fucking MARVELOUS.” Your biting sarcasm echoed around your lone figure as you yanked the lab coat off.

It had been 10 minutes when the mess was cleaned up and the ingredients were all lined up by the order they went in. The footsteps of someone grabbed your attention, and without turning to look at who it was you just assumed it was one of your friends. “Didn’t I say to leave? I said I would handle this.”

“Ahh... That explains it then.” The voice was too deep and rich for it to be the others, and even without turning, you knew who it was. Spinning around you saw Leona leaning against the doorway, his eyes seemed dilated compared to their usual slits which had thrown you off for a second. 

“Explains what exactly?” You huffed, not ready for the teasing comments of your crush.

“Why your buddies seemed to be walking to the mirror chamber like scolded dogs. Now it makes sense why…” His eyes lingered on your curves before he met your eye contact. “What happened?” 

You sat on the nearby desk and rubbed your eyes. “Healing flower pollen potion went wrong not once, but twice. It got all over me.”

“I know. I can smell it, I mean.” Leona cleared his throat and shifted his weight. “Do you... Need help?” He offered, which made your eyebrow raise. It wasn’t like him to make more work for him. Though when you attempted to comment he added with a sleazy smirk, “Ya just look stressed and what kind of housewarden would I be if I didn’t help out my freshman?” 

“We’re nearly the same age.” You deadpanned which he only smirked at and walked past you towards the cauldron. His posture and movements seemed tense, maybe the smell of the pollen was causing his senses to be overwhelmed. “You don’t have to help if the smell is too strong, I can handle it.” You grabbed his arm to stop him but he let out a low chuff when your fingers grazed his skin which made you pull back. 

“It’s… fine. Let’s just get it over with then.” Leona quickly lit the fire under the cauldron with a wave of his pen and began to silently add the ingredients. He barely let you help or get near to the cauldron, the help was appreciated but at the same time, it felt like he thought you would mess up.

“I can do it, you know?” You sighed. His ears twitched and he glanced at you then focused on the potion again. This was just confusing, he was confusing, just wasn’t acting like himself and seemed more jumpy. His voice cut you off just as you were going to ask him if he was fine.

“What exactly happened, Yuu?” Leona muttered, the tone of his almost seemed angry like he was holding himself back.

“Grim accidentally dropped a big chunk of the pollen at once.” You answered which caused Leona to pinch his brow and whisper something. “...Why?”

“Well, that explains the aroma. As soon as we are done here, you are going to Ramshackle and taking a long shower.” Leona replies as he finishes up the potion, this time sprinkling the pollen in controlled consistent amounts.

“What? Why? Does it smell that bad?” You took a whiff of your clothes yet nothing smelled strange, if anything the scent was sweet.

Leoma seemed to groan and leaned his head back. “Just- Don’t be a brat. Be a good girl and listen for once, ya?” His eyes dilated again as he finally faced you to hand over the potion. Now that you could see his full figure it seemed that he looked flushed in the face and panting. Maybe he was sick? However long you stared at him with a confused glower was a moment too long for his temper. “For fucks sake,” taking a few short steps towards you and forcing the bottle into your hands, a low growl formed in his throat, “Please, Bunny. Go straight to your dorm and wash that scent off you.” Leona disappeared past you, yet again cutting you off from speaking.

What the fuck just happened?

—

Of course, you wished you had listened to Leona but in your defense, he never warned you what was so bad about whatever substance was on you. By the time you finally finished filling out the lab part of the assignment, it was nearly time for the deadline that Crewel set! You had to rush across campus to Crewel’s home class to deliver the potion. After explaining that you had sent your friends to their dorms to respect curfew he just nodded and sent you on your way.

You had been crossing the courtyard when you heard a few hushed voices around a corner. Upon squinting and getting closer you realized it was some Savanaclaw students.

“Wonder why Housewarden was acting like that today?” One of them huffed.

“I Know. Odd enough he showed up for Spelldrive practice but then he actually started to play. He was acting strange for sure.” The other validated your own experience.

“I feel like I am gonna be sore for weeks, maybe the Housewarden just needed to blow off steam or something?” The third groaned, rolling his shoulders.

“Wait, do you guys smell that?” The first one seemed to almost purr, his eyes dilating much like Leona’s did.

Damn beastman’s sense of smell.

Something wasn’t sitting right with you, like your gut instincts were kicking in. You quickly exited the area and began rushing back to the dorm with a brisk walking pace. After listening to the conversation you decided to visit Leona. I mean he had to explain what was going on.

Entering the mirror of Savanaclaw you were welcomed by the dusky arid landscape. In its own dried-up aesthetic, it was quite beautiful. Crossing the familiar tiered building, you noticed the wandering eyes of a few students. They all seemed to grow stiff, twitchy, almost agitated. A few of them even began to walk closer towards you. You quickly headed to Leona’s room, getting the feeling that the beastmen were not being their usual territorial selves. When you got to the door of Leona’s room it swung open and you were pulled inside.

“What the hell did I tell you, Bunny?” He growled, slamming your body into the door and caging you against it. Getting a good look at him, he looked downright sick or like he had been fighting someone.

“What’s going on?” Was all you could muster. He laughed darkly as he inched closer to you, though his muscles tightened and he pushed away from you. His eyes darted to the wood door you leaned against, another growl and he was back to dragging you away. He shoved you towards the bed with a restrained roughness.

“Why didn’t you listen to me like I said?” He covered his eyes with a hand and let out a groan of annoyance.

“I didn’t have time! When I finally finished the lab portion of the assignment it was nearly Crewel’s due date so I had to rush to his class.” You defended, gesticulating to emphasize your point.

Leona took a long breathy sigh and then pivoted to turn away from you. “That doesn’t explain why you came here.” He hissed.

What the hell was his deal? Or anyone’s for that matter. “I heard some students saying you were acting weird after you helped me. I was worried- what the hell is going on Leona?” 

The beastman inhaled slowly before walking towards his couch and leaning on the back of it, when he faced you again it was clear he was thinking of what to say. After a few heavy moments of silence, he slowly approached the topic. “The potion mishap didn’t just explode but created another substance altogether. Heavy amounts of the pollen can… be used as a... Aphrodisiac.” By the end of his sentence, he pinched the bridge of his nose and shifted his legs.

Oh.

OH.

“Well, fuck. So the beastmen?” You started then he nodded, finishing the thought for you.

“More sensitive to the smell than others. Which is why I told you to get it off you.” Leona peaked through his fingers to gaze at you, his tail swished and thumped against the couch in a steady rhythm. The explanation certainly explained things, but now you were in the den of the king of beasts. “Why didn’t you just tell me earlier..?” 

“I was trying to be respectful. I didn’t want ya to be afraid or paranoid. In hindsight, it was foolish to not warn you. I'm sorry.” He crossed his arms and met your eyes with an apologetic emotion.

“Is that why you went to blow off steam at practice?” You questioned, and he nodded. Then a sort of courage washed over you. Leona certainly was charming in his own ways, and strongly misunderstood by the majority of people. Perhaps that's why you always found yourself orbiting around him, he was intoxicating. The next words out of your mouth were formed from the heat of the moment, you didn’t want to pass up a good opportunity to release tension for yourself either. “Why not just ask me? I certainly could give you a hand, you helped me after all.”

Leona’s head pivoted and he looked straight at you. “You ought to be very careful with what you say.” He shifted his weight and adjusted himself subtly.

Pushing off from the bed, you made a few steps towards him, each step making his tail thrash quicker. “I mean it, Leona. Let me help you.” 

Suddenly you were back on the bed, back pressed against the sheets and Leona hovering over you. He pressed his knee between your thighs and then asked, “Do I have your consent?”

You nodded, parting your legs for him, he only shook his head and pinched your chin between his claws. “I need a verbal answer, Princess.” He cooed.

Damn. That’s hot. “Please, Leona. You have my consent. I want this.” Your voice came out quietly, enough so that he asked to repeat yourself, but slowly inched his knee between your legs within seconds. “Please-! Fuck me.”

“Good girl” Leona whispered, placing a kiss on your cheek, slowly his mouth trailed down your jaw to your neck where he began to nibble and suck on the soft skin there. He grunted and rolled his hips into yours, delighting in the way you gasped. “Such a dirty little Bunny.” He growled, nipping your neck once more before he pulled away. “Sit up.” He ordered, something you obeyed. When he began to tug at his belt your thighs clenched together. His movements were so intense that the belt made a cracking sound in the air. It made you flinch and wet at the same time, the fact that he wanted you, wanted this. Maybe it was just the pollen, or maybe all the bantering that convinced you of shared chemistry was in fact real.

Leona didn’t hesitate to tug down his jeans and boxers in one swift movement, his cock springing free and twitching desperately. Your eyes widened and he chuckled petting your head. “Might need more than just a hand dontcha think?” He smirked. Slowly the hand petting your head was firmer and guiding your lips to the tip of his cock. “Just tell me now and I’ll stop, okay? But- fuck… Once we start, I don’t think I can stop.” He groaned, looking down at you for any hesitation.

You looked up at him, keeping eye contact as you inched forward of your own accord to deliver a tiny lick to the slit of his cock. Leona’s chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, the green glint of his eyes signaling his pupils dilating again. “Go on then. Suck me off like the good slut you are.” 

Giving another kitten lick to his tip, you slowly began to wet his dick with your mouth. The soft grunts and growls emitting from his throat only encouraged you to continue. Bobbing your head up and down on his length triggered your gag reflex a few times, soon enough you found a good rhythm. Anything you couldn’t fit down your throat you used both of your hands to stroke and fondle. 

“Oh fuck! Fuck yeah, just like that. Oh by the seven…” He moaned, grabbing your head tightly and thrusting against your lips with his own brisk pace. It had you gripping his thighs and tearing up, he pulled completely back so you could gasp for air before he was back to fucking your mouth. 

“Oh, shit baby! I am gonna cum.. Lemme cum in your throat ya? That okay?” He panted, holding still with a grunt. You gave him a thumbs up through your tears, which he purred at. Leona’s jaw went slack as he roared in pleasure, his hips thrusting and shuddering a few times as he spilled into your mouth. 

Leona pulled back and looked down at you with a surprised expression when he saw your cheeks puffed up. “Good job little bunny, now swallow.” He purred, pressing his thumb to your lip as you obeyed his command. He bent down to capture your lips in a heated kiss, slowly pushing you down to the bed again. His canine nicked your bottom lip followed by his tongue, he prodded around before pushing into your mouth and savoring your taste mixed with his. Leona pulled back, the rest of his clothes were gone and you quickly realized yours were too. “Magic.” He answered your unspoken question and was back to kissing you.

You wrapped your legs around him, tugging him closer against your bare form. As you did this he grinded into your core, both of you gasping and panting as you traded kisses. Leona’s hand slowly cascaded down your side, squeezing the skin with a gentle touch. He slowly pulled back with a heavy gaze and shifted down to your legs. The loss of him left you whining which he quickly remedied with a long lick to your cunt.

“Please, don’t stop, please..” The words spilled from your lips with an eager cry. His eyes found yours and he didn’t look away as he delivered another lick right along your core. You parted your legs as an invitation for more, he gladly accepted and dove into your pussy. Leona pushed a finger into you and slowly began pumping in and out, his finger curling which caused you to moan. He ate you out like a starved man, the whacking of his tail against the bed sounded like music when mixed in with your moans. He added another finger, slowly working you open, then the third as he sucked on your clit. Your lips parted and back arched, hands gripping onto the sheets for salvation.

The loss of his contact made you cry and prop yourself on your elbows. “W-wait..” Your voice came out like a plea, your hands grabbing at his braid to tug him closer. His lips were wet with your slick, and his eyes narrowed on you with hunger. You were his prey, his herbivore, his bunny.

“Use your words, Princess.” He cooed, curling his fingers inside you. He was cocky and sure of himself and his abilities.

“Please.” You breathed, too fucked out and needy to say much else. Leona seemed satisfied and began to thrust his fingers into you again, his mouth and tongue working in tandem with his fingers. Your lower body bucked into his touch as you felt your core tighten. Even before you could say it, Leona knew you were close. “So close! Imma- Leona…” Your voice hitched as a white-hot shattering jolted up your spine into your mind. Your back arched as you came, your hands gripping his hair to ground yourself from ecstasy.

Leona crawled back over you again, pressing another hungry kiss to your lips. He guided his cock between your folds, collecting the mixture of your orgasm and his spit along his shaft. The soft growls that leave his mouth are in sync with his strokes, he grabs your waist and hip before slowly prodding and pushing all the way in. You winced and grabbed the sheets as he began to move his hips in gentle motions. “That’s it, such a pretty bunny. Doing so well for me.” He moaned. When you gave him a nod he began to pick up the pace of his thrusts.

“More.” You gasped, lifting your arms above your head to grip the material there. “Don’t hold back, give it to me.” You whispered, knowing well that he was holding back. 

Leona smirked, his pupils dilating with lust and excitement. He began to move his hips faster, harder, more forcefully. His grip on your hip slid to your left leg and lifted it onto his shoulder, allowing him to reach the deepest parts of you. Your lips parted as you gasped and attempted to find oxygen again, the wind was knocked out of you as he rutted into you with abandon. Leona leaned down to kiss your neck, whispering along your skin, “Gonna fill you up nice and full… Mark you as mine.” He purred as you clenched around him in response. “Ya, you like that? Like being claimed? Don’t worry Bunny, no one will even try once they know you’re mine, and I, yours.” 

The smile that sketched onto your features from his words was enough to edge him towards euphoria. Leona picked up the pace with a growl, your eyes shut as you focused on the feeling of him fucking you. The climax building in your lower gut had your back arching. Your eyes focused on the foreign weaving of a tapestry along his wall just as the familiar fire burned your core. 

“L-Leona! Cumming.” You whimpered, tightening your hands into fists as you reached heaven.

“Fuck- me too.” He followed after you, his hips speeding up before stopping and quivering as his cum seeped deep into you. Leona held himself above you, his body shaky and eyes glossy with a hazy pleasure. He waited for a few moments before stepping away. He quickly returned with a clean towel and began to clean the slick of your cunt and body. He tossed it to the ground once he was done and pulled you into an embrace as he laid down.

The soft peck of his lips against your neck and his hand massaging your hips eased your mind into relaxation. “Do you need anything?” He whispered. You shook your head, already falling asleep. Leona smiled and nuzzled into your shoulder. He waited for you to fall asleep, and he knew then just how true his feelings had been. He whispered, pressing a kiss to your head. “Love ya, Princess.”

[cozycottagetarot]

Quick Pick: Messages From Your Person

Hello, my loves! It's been way too long, but I'm finally back (hopefully for a long time) with a new reading as well as a bit of a rebrand. Today's reading is focused on messages from your person (kind of in the realm of a future spouse but generally a long-term partner) but I think for some of you it may come across as a current partner as well.

This is a pretty experimental reading for me. I want to start including an 'energy check' of sorts to help you better figure out if a pile is for you or not. I've done 'channelled' messages before but I felt weird about them so I've decided to give it a try again. The message aspect of this reading is just a free-flow writing of the cards that were pulled. And of course, I decided to play around a little bit more with my graphics. I'm always open to feedback, so I'd love to gather your thoughts on the set-up and reading itself.

Elle 🌿

P.S. I'm trying to re-do my masterlist but can't locate all my old pacs easily. If you come across one, I wouldn't mind if you send me the link. 🙏

Support My Work | MASTERLIST

Disclaimer: When reading tarot, my aim is to focus on self-reflection and seeking guidance. The readings you'll find here are designed to add a pinch of fun and entertainment to your day. While I might sprinkle in some advice that hopefully vibes with you, please remember that these insights aren't a substitute for any professional advice you might need-- after all, you know your journey best! For any love-related or future-focused readings, consider them captivating musings exploring possibilities. Divination inspired stories even. I can't predict the future but I do hope to add some enjoyment and insights into your everyday. Lastly my darlings, please take from these readings what resonates with you most, be it some, all or none, and leave the rest. 🌟

PILE 1

Note: Pile 1 your pile gave me absolute hell the first time around 😭. I was writing/channelling the message and the energy literally just gave way at one point, I was flabbergasted 🫨. Anyway, the second pull was much clearer, but I included notes I felt were important from the first pull in the post-reading notes section.

Your Energy:

Going through an awakening. A need or call for self-reflection. A new cycle is beginning. You must face what you are running from within, but you must also be patient. Rely on your inner strength. Needing to learn more about yourself before doing/trying something different. Potentially finding yourself in part of a mentorship. Connecting with people similar to yourself. Navigating regrets. Needing to let go of the old you. Needing to ground yourself.  A strong energy of needing to look within yourself. It is time to prepare yourself for your next journey.

The Message:

Can you let the past go? We’ve been through so much, the both of us, on our own and together. Why do you hold on to it when our future is waiting for us? I know I hurt you and I apologize. You didn’t deserve any of the pain I caused you. I don’t blame you [it felt like there was a specific reason but I couldn’t get the specifics] but I feel lost without you. I could tell you why, I want to, but words mean nothing without action. You know my story. My relationship with my mother, how that shaped me. You know I love the attention of it all, having everyone’s eyes on me. Makes me feel good.. makes me feel. But no one else’s attention mattered like yours did. I felt most close to myself with you. Please, please let go of that version of me you’re holding onto in your head. I’m taking space because I need to heal. I need to heal my relationship with me first before I can heal it with us. This isn’t goodbye; just so long for now. I’m taking time to put that me in the past too and find myself and what I want from this life. I mean it’s simple really, I want you, us. I want to give you the good life you deserve, but I need to fix myself first. Give me the self-love I deserve.

Post-Reading Notes:

There’s a mature, sad regretful energy. Someone on a journey of self-exploration. Two hurting souls who met at the wrong time. One of you may be further along in your healing journey or you’ve both healed parts of yourself and your relationship that the other one hasn’t healed yet.

First Pull Notes:

One of the first things that came to mind for me is a dark night of the soul… I haven’t heard that term in so long and I’ve completely forgotten what it means, but for someone in this pile, I feel like that may resonate a lot. Going through a tough time. Blow after blow. Your higher self or inner wisdom is trying to reach you. Introspection before a new beginning. An ending of something you don’t want to let go of?

Big things are happening in your life, and significant changes are taking place even though it might not seem that way right now. Lots of air energy. Gaining mental clarity is super important for you right now. Breakup vibes? You two are like opposite sides or motivations of the same energy. Holding on when you know you should let go. This is definitely your person (one of the cards literally says ‘You’re my person’).

PILE 2

Your Energy:

For some of you are at the end of suffering but lying to yourself about the truth of the outcome, while for others you’re running from the mistakes made along the way. Maybe it's both. You’re still grieving all that is lost, be gentle with yourself. Hard work and consistency may await you but keep at it. Adventure is closer than you think. You’re on the brink of success. Moving forward hurts, but you must. Your person (or something you've been romanticising) is waiting for you. You just have to be brave enough to step through the gate. Opportunities are coming your way. If you're interested in floral hobbies or embroidery go for it.

The Message:

I hear you. I haven’t given up on you. I hear the songs you play for me, I hear the songs of your heart. You’re my love, my soulmate. We were meant to be, you and me. You’re not crazy or insane, or any other term you demean yourself with. You’re my everything. I can feel your soul even though we’re apart. If I close my eyes hard enough, I can feel you there. I can see your sparkling soul mirroring mine... sad eyes, bright smile, you leave me in awe. I know you call to me, and I’m sorry I’m not there. Don’t hate me for it, please. I’m leaving behind all that has been holding me back… the same as you. I’m sorry it’s so lonely. I want to meet. What do you say? Impromptu trip to the tropics? Somewhere cold? I just want to escape the world with you and lie in your arms. You’re my home. I sit in your energy and let it guide me your way. But I do need time. Please be patient with me. I haven’t abandoned you. I’m finding me, for you. I dream about you so often and being the kind of person you’d inspire me to be.

Post-Reading Notes:

"I need you to run to me, run to me, lover." (Run by Hozier, the chorus specifically. I know the song is supposed to be a metaphor but I'm suggesting it at face value). A very healing energy to your person's messages. Your person could also fantasise about you a lot... in a non-x-rated 18+ kind of way. It was mentioned on one of the cards but that part of the card felt awkward in the rest of the cards. They’re possessive, it doesn't seem like in a negative or extreme way but again, that's not something that was strong or clear. There’s something to do with the attention of others. They just want to be yours completely… Honestly, a submissive yet dominant kind of energy. A protector and/or provider (take that as you will) who is absolutely smitten with you and will do anything you say.

I don't typically read for it, but one of the cards had twin flame written on it. It could also be symbolic of mirroring each other in your personal journeys in life.

PILE 3

Your Energy:

Powerful yet solitary energy. A new chapter of your life. Accomplishing a big goal. Moving to a new location. Creating a good foundation for yourself in preparation for what comes next. Balancing your energies. Sleep issues. Struggling with anxiety or managing thoughts after a traumatic event. Celebration. Having security. Authoritarian role or vibes.

The Message:

Okay, I can do this: I can’t get you off of my mind. I’m constantly thinking of you, viewing your content, trying to set myself up to run into you. I know it’s silly, especially since you hurt me. Who pines after the person that hurt them? Well, it wasn't meant to be mean. You’re just so mysterious I can’t ever read you and it or you make me nervous. I’m always worrying about what to say. I want to talk to you but opening up to others is hard. I’m afraid I’ll start crying or you’ll hear my voice crack. You’re my person. I’m sure of it. You’re everything I’ve hoped for in a person, everything I dream about before I go to sleep at night. You’re doing so well for yourself, but I want to spoil you and be there for you. Not always materially. I know you can cover that for yourself. But being there for you and spending time with you… I heard you were seeing someone. I hope it’s not true and even if it is, I hope it doesn't last. No, I’m not sorry. I’m going to work up the courage to reach out to you soon.

Post-Reading Notes:

Oh Pile 3, you’re so intimidating to your person. Secret admirer vibes. I definitely think you’ve got a very serious or professional energy and an intimidating appearance. That may especially be true if you’re taller than average for your demographic/s. The energies here feel very balanced or neutral (not heavily feminine or masculine) on both your end and theirs.

PILE 4

Your Energy:

Such a beautiful light-hearted energy. There’s such a beautiful and hopeful energy in this relationship here but it’s also possible someone or something is working against you right now. A very important decision is being made. Someone could be trying to take something from you, but keep going. You’ve got this incredible power/energy to you. Vows are super important, be it making them with someone else or making a vow to yourself to gain or achieve something. Collaboration. Having everything you need to succeed. There could be challengers coming your way but you're strong enough to overcome them.

The Message:

I’m sorry. I don’t know, that was immature of me. I swear it wasn’t like you thought but don’t worry I’m going to do better. Honest. You know, I dream about us being together and growing old. I dream about our kids. They’re so stinking cute. We’ve still got growing to do, ok, or I’ve still got growing to do. Please talk to me. You know I hate it when you give me the silent treatment. I know I disappeared on you and that wasn’t cool. I just get so… I care about you a lot. I don’t want to see you hurt. I want the best for you. I know I act all big and bad but I’m a softie at heart. That fight was weird. I don’t like it. It wasn’t like us. It meant nothing I know. Would you pack up and run away with me if I asked? I hate the distance between us right now. Im always listening to our playlist. I know I acted like I'm uninterested in something serious but I am. I want you. I miss you. I want to spoil you and give you everything you deserve. Just give me a chance. Please hear me out.

Post-Reading Notes:

The vibes while doing the reading felt like very young vibes? There’s a youthfulness there. Someone who either is actually young in age or hasn’t grown up emotionally in a certain aspect. It felt like they did something prideful that was hurtful to you and you two are in a disconnect during the moment captured in the reading. It didn’t feel like a serious fight. More so when you’re upset with someone and acting like you’re madder than you really are (your vibes) and the other person is sweating and begging you to talk to them again (their vibes).

Also, idk why but Peter Parker kept coming into my head 🕸️. I’m not feeling to analyse it so take it as you will.

[whatiswrongwithpeople]

Traps || A Mark Hoffman x f!reader SMUT

Summary: Mark Hoffman and (Y/N) hate each other , but what happens when tinkering on traps in the same workshop leads leads to spicy tension?

Warnings: NSFW, hate sex, degrading/explicit language, only one partner being fully nude , Mark Hoffman’s temper

Note: Hello my fellow Big Bad Hoffman enthusiasts, this is my very first smut piece (as in ever) and I really hope it’s not too bad. I’ve read over it a couple of times and hope there aren’t any major mistakes.

Have fun reading ✨

“What do you want?” the deep grumble of Mark Hoffman’s voice vibrates through the room of the warehouse, as (Y/N) enters the room. “Certainly nothing from you.” She rolls her eyes, already annoyed by the man’s presence, as she walks over to the shelves across the table that Hoffman is working at. “I was in the middle of something important.” the man grumbles, looking up from the contraption he was currently tinkering on. She huffs, ignoring the man as she roams through the shelf in front of her. “Have you seen my blueprints anywhere?” Not lifting his gaze from the piece of metal he was currently securing, he gestures to the shelves. “Check your bloody work area. I’m not your secretary.” Pinching the bridge of her nose, the woman pauses her movements. “You know, if you’d answer me like a fucking decent human being, I’d be out of your way much quicker.” (Y/N) grumbles, shoving a box of scrap metal aside.

A few moments pass, before (Y/N) spots her blueprints on the very top of the shelf, leading her to mutter a string of curse words under her breath. The young woman turns around, pointing to the chair next to Hoffman. “Do you need that?” Mark pauses for a moment and shrugs his shoulders before he mutters a simple “Suit yourself.” Stepping over to the table, she wordlessly grabs the chair and drags it back to the shelf before climbing onto it in order to reach for her blueprints. “I’m gonna kill whoever put those up here,” she mutters, struggling to pull one of the prints out from underneath a box. A spark of amusement twinkles in Mark’s otherwise deadpan expression as he watches his fellow apprentice struggling to get what she wants. Cold, hungry eyes travelling up and down her body as she stretches to reach the blueprints, Hoffman suddenly finds himself grateful for whoever has moved her stuff to the top shelf, enjoying the view in front of him.

Feeling his gaze on her (Y/N) looks over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes at the man, before turning back around and opening one of the blueprints in order to inspect it. Hoffman decides to wait a moment before speaking in a mocking tone “Your temper is rather volatile.” Keeping her focus on the blueprint she murmurs “Thanks asshole.” “No problem, love.” the detective replies in a snarky tone, before picking up his tools again to continue working on his trap.

Ignoring the man and the feeling caused by the petname, she steps down from the chair, spreading the prints on top of the table to get a better overview of them. God, she couldn’t stand Mark Hoffman.

“You know, “ his voice interrupts the silence “It’s rude to ignore someone.” Looking up from her blueprint of a hand-trap, she meets Mark’s arrogant, smug expression. “Rude? No. Actually ignoring you is a really REALLY blissful experience.” she hums. “Is that so?” the mocking tone in his voice is as prominent as ever “Is it also a blissful experience being a fucking brat all the time?” he snarks.

“I don’t know, tell me about it.” (Y/N) shrugs nonchalantly, grabbing a pen to make some corrective notes on her design. “You’re an insufferable bitch. Maybe Kramer will realise that and kill you off first.” The detective snarks back at her.

“I hope your death will be swift and painful,” he remarks to himself under his breath. “Oh, believe me” (Y/N) retorts as she gathers some mechanical pieces from the shelf behind her. “Nothing could ever be more painful than having to share a workspace with you.” Mark Hoffman’s eyes watch the young woman like a wolf hunting for prey, his fist clenching around the screwdriver in his hand, as his frustration with her builds up. “God you’re infuriating…” He continues working on his contraption and mutters something. “...annoying little slut” being the only words she catches.

Tired of the man’s antics, (Y/N) slams her equipment down onto the table, looking over at Hoffman with fury burning in her eyes. “You're unbelievable, you know that?" (Y/N) seethes, gaze burning into Mark Hoffman's figure. "You can't just go around hurling insults like that and expect me to take it lying down." Hoffman meets her gaze with a mixture of frustration and amusement. "Oh, I'm well aware of what I can and can't do," he says, his voice dripping with condescension. "But it's not like you make it easy to get along with you, behaving like such a bitch all the time."(Y/N) takes a deep breath, trying to calm her rising anger. She knows that she should just ignore him, focus on her work, and get through this collaboration without any more unnecessary drama. But something about Detective Mark Hoffman just gets under her skin like no one else.

"Look," she says, her tone somewhat calmer but still laced with irritation, "we're stuck here together, whether we like it or not. We both work for Kramer and in doing so we have somewhat of a mutual understanding. Can we at least try and be somewhat civil, so he doesn’t come for our heads?"

Hoffman seems to consider her words for a moment, and then he lets out a begrudging sigh. "Fine," he mutters, finally releasing the screwdriver he'd been clutching. "I suggest you start working on your trap. I don’t want to be around you for much longer." (Y/N) smirks, satisfied that she's at least made a small dent in his armour of arrogance. "Likewise," she replies, turning back to her blueprint and resuming her work. As the tension between the two persists, the air in the dimly lit workshop crackles with a strange energy.

Their exchanges alternate between moments of begrudging cooperation and stinging sarcasm. The attraction they feel toward each other simmers just below the surface, an unspoken truth neither is willing to acknowledge. However, the more they try to fight it, the more it intensifies. It's a dangerous game they're playing, one that could lead to unforeseen consequences.

Hours pass, and the traps they've been designing near completion. Hoffman’s rugged confidence and the air of danger that surrounds him ignite a forbidden curiosity in (Y/N). She can’t help but steal glances at him when she thinks he’s not looking, admiring the way his muscles flex as he handles the tools. His hands move with precision as he assembles the final components, and for a brief moment, she finds herself captivated by his expertise. She despises herself for being attracted to someone so incredibly insufferable.

Hoffman, on the other hand, can't deny the way (Y/N)'s dedication to her work is both impressive and alluring. He's never met anyone who can infuriate him to this extent yet simultaneously arouse his curiosity. Her intelligence and determination draw him in, even as her stubbornness drives him mad, it awakens something deep inside him, something he thought he’d buried long ago. He’s drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

Putting the tools in his hands back into the tool box with a loud clang, Hoffman suddenly leans over the table, his voice low and dangerously close to (Y/N)’s ear as he examines her contraption. “You know,” he begins, the low rumble of his voice and the feeling of his breath on her skin sending shivers down her spine, “you have a way of pushing people’s buttons.”

(Y/N) grits her teeth, trying to ignore the effect his proximity has on her. “I could say the same about you.” she retorts, her voice equally low. Hoffman smirks at that. “I find this never-ending game of cat and mouse rather….exciting.” There is a dangerous glint in his eyes. (Y/N) scoffs but can’t deny the truth in his words. “Exciting, huh?” she raises her brow “More like infuriating.”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching” he whispers, voice laced with arrogance, lips dangerously close to her ear. “Yeah keep dreaming, Hoffman.” she glares at him, eyes filled with anger and something else she refuses to admit. “This is ridiculous,” Hoffman mutters, this time with a different tone in his voice.

Before (Y/N) can ask what he means, Mark has rounded the table in a sudden urgency, yanking her head towards him by the neck and slamming his lips onto hers in a heated kiss. (Y/N) responds instinctively, her anger melting into desire as their mouths battle for dominance that neither is willing to concede. (Y/N) can feel the edge of the table pressing into her back as Mark traps her beneath his body, making her bend backwards onto the cold metal. The sheer sight of her body trapped beneath his seems to fuel Hoffman’s desire even further, a dark look of hunger in his gaze, as his hand grabs her throat, roughly pushing her down onto the table. His eyes focusing on her chest, as her breasts bounce with the movement. A surprised moan escapes her mouth at the action, her back arching as it gets pressed into the cold metal, making Hoffman’s eyes snap back up at her. “Fuck, you look so good with my hand around your throat.” the dangerously low grumble of his voice making her feel the heat pool in her abdomen, leading her to clench her thighs together. Noticing her arousal Hoffman squeezes her throat a little tighter, whilst his other hand sneaks under her shirt, groping at her breast. “God, you’re such a filthy slut. Coming in here in those tight clothes , showing your curves off to me like an attention whore.” Hoffman’s hand yanks (Y/N)’s shirt up, a low, animalistic grunt leaving his throat as he sees her nipples stiffening through her bra.

“Took you long enough to do something about it.” (Y/N) smirks, seeing his the outline of his erection through his pants, she decides to play a dangerous game. Opening her mouth and lowering her jaw a little, she lets her tongue trace over the thumb resting on her jawline as Hoffman’s is still gripping her throat, before sucking on it gently, all the while looking up at him through her lashes. “Fuck.” the detective grunts as his dark gaze watches her mesmerized. Noticing Hoffman’s mesmerized state, (Y/N) dares to make her move, fingers travelling up and down his hand which had previously groped her breast, before swiftly yanking it to the side.

The metallic click echoing through the room, breaks Hoffman out of his daze, furious eyes snapping to his right hand which he now finds to be locked into the trap, (Y/N) had been working on all night long. “You fucking bitch.” he bellows, voice seething with fury. “I’ve decided it’s my turn now” she smirks at the man, sitting up on the table. “Don’t worry.” her voice is low and seductive as she whispers into Hoffman’s ear. “I don’t think it’s fully functioning yet.” she playfully bites his earlobe, before pushing him backwards into the chair behind him. “Your a worthless brat.” he hisses, his free hand trying to pull the other out of the glove-like metal contraption,on the table.

“Hmm.” (Y/N) hums , taking off her shirt painfully slow “Does big bad Hoffman suddenly not like to play games anymore?” Her hand wanders up the trapped arm, before wandering to his chest, as she gets off of the table and straddles the detective’s lap. “And here I thought we were finally having fun working together.” She purposefully rocks her hips, feeling his hardened cock underneath her. Another low growl leaves Hoffman, as his free hand grabs a fist full of her hair, yanking her head back before attacking her exposed neck with his mouth.Sloppy kisses trailing up and down the soft flesh. He singlehandedly opens her bra with expertise, ripping the garment off her body. “I fucking hate you, little brat.” Mark snarls , hungrily sucking one of her breasts into his mouth, twirling her nipple with his tongue, whilst his free arm encircles her waist, holding her against him. “You’re such a bastard, Mark Hoffman.” she moans, hand gripping his hair, as she presses his face further into her chest. With her other hand (Y/N) reaches down to unbuckle his belt, earning a bite from the man.

"Bastard" she repeats again, trying to sound angry but failing miserably as arousal floods her body. She bites her lip as her hand slides into his pants, feeling the size of his erection. Pulling her body from his hungry mouth, (Y/N) slides from his lap, positioning herself on her knees between his legs. Her mouth already watering at the thought of what she is about to do. (Y/N) looks up at Mark’s eyes and smirks, taking control. Slowly, she moves closer, licking and kissing her way down his throbbing shaft. Each gentle touch sending vibrations through her body. As she takes him deeper into her mouth, Mark groans loudly, unable to hold back. His hand clenching the back of her head, desperately wanting more.”Why don’t you use those perfect tits of yours?” Mark grunts out between pants, pulling (Y/N)’s head back a little to look her in the eyes, before his intense gaze follows the string of salvia, running down from her swollen lips onto her chin. Enjoying the feeling of dominance over the detective, (Y/N) doesn't allow him to take over though, pulling out of his grasp suddenly. Leaving him on edge.

“You don’t always get everything you want.” she purrs, leaning back in to lick the length of his erection in a painfully slow manner.

When suddenly Hoffman’s hand forcefully grips her hair again, yanking her head back once more. Mark’s voice is dangerously low as he speaks, leaning down towards her “See, this is where you’re wrong, princess.” The name leaves his mouth in a threatening hiss when suddenly he pulls his trapped hand free and yanks (Y/N) upwards. He had figured out how to escape the trap way earlier, but the sight of his competitor taking him into her mouth tempted him to hang on and play pretend for just a little longer. Enjoying the sight of her trying to dominate him. “Seems as if that little trap of yours does indeed still need improvements. If you behave like a good girl, I might teach you a trick or two.” The detective’s arrogant gaze shamelessly travels up and down her body.

“And why would I behave like a good girl for you?” (Y/N)’s snarl is mixed with arousal as she glares back up at him, feeling the increasing wetness between her thighs as Mark’s eyes roam her naked form. “Because, “ the man shoves a hand between her legs, calloused fingers pushing her panties aside and boldly slipping into her entrance, making the woman let out a strangled moan, “I always get what I want.” he states matter-of-factly, pulling his fingers out of her and examining them. “God, look how fucking wet you are already. You’re such a whore.”

Before (Y/N) can open her mouth for a witty comeback, the detective has already

spun her around and bent over the table. Pinning her wrists on the small of her back. Hoffman wastes no time as he rips her panties off, lining his cock up with her entrance without hesitation. (Y/N)’s breath becomes shaky as she arches her back and pushes her ass up in anticipation, her tits pressing further into the cold metal table. His tip shortly teases her entrance, before he forcefully slams into her. “Fuck, Marks-” she blurts before a filthy moan interrupts her own phrase, as Mark fully pulls out of her dripping cunt only to roughly plunge into her again. All control leaves Mark's body when he hears his name coming from her lips over the wet sounds of her pussy and her lustful moans. His hips slam into hers, and the sound of skin hitting skin fills the cold, dimly lit workshop.

"You always come here thinking you're better than I am or that you can play games with me, but now look at you letting me fuck you completely exposed on a table and not even being able to form coherent sentences because you've never been fucked by a man's cock like you are by mine.” Hoffman's voice sounds almost animalistic next to her ear as he presses into her back, groaning against her skin. (Y/N)’s eyes roll back as her walls flutter around his cock in response to his words, she finds herself at a complete loss for words, overwhelmed and almost drooling by the sensation of the detective burring himself balls-deep into her dripping cunt.

“Fuck,” Mark rasps out, beads of sweat rolling down his temples “Do you know how many times I’ve fucked myself to the thought of seeing you all desperate for me like this?”

(Y/N) whimpers as she pushes her hips back into him, enticing another lewd groan from Hoffman. He was still hunched over her back, grunting near her ear, as his cock hits all the deepest spots inside her. “Make me cum, Hoffman.” she breathes, the friction in her cunt becoming almost unbearable. “Only because you behaved so well, princess.” Hoffman husks, straightening himself, his thrusts picking up in pace. “Oh fuck Mark!” (Y/N) cries out in loud ecstasy, her jaw almost going slack as her climax takes over, eyes rolling to the back of her head and knees almost buckling as her body spasms and she continues to moan in sheer pleasure. Mark makes a strangled sound, the sight of (Y/N) cumming with him inside her making his cock throb.

His hand rears back slapping her ass, as her sensitive cunt clenches around him. He keeps ramming into her mercilessly as she rides out her high, murmuring incoherent slurs behind gritted teeth. (Y/N) was sure that her upper body would leave an imprint on the metal table if Mark kept up the force of his thrusts any longer. With a primal grunt and stuttered breath, the detective reaches his climax, thrusts becoming more sloppy as he releases inside her.

For a moment both of them are silently trying to catch their breath before Mark pulls out of (Y/N), smirking at the sight of his cum dripping down her thighs.

The sound of a zipper and belt buckle snaps (Y/N) out of their dizzy state. She straightens up, her eyes wandering over the sweaty print left on the table as a testament to Hoffman's and her little escapade.

Collecting her clothes, she turns to Mark as she begins to dress herself. “This changes nothing.” The man raises a brow at her. “I still hate you.” she states, grabbing a piece of cloth from the shelf behind him to wipe down the table.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from a brat like you.” Mark answers nonchalantly as he pulls a screwdriver from the toolbox "Now let me show you how to improve that pathetic trap of yours."

(Y/N) couldn't help but smirk at Mark's retort. As Mark began to work on the trap, he explained his modifications in detail, his hands deftly moving as he made adjustments. The woman watched him intently, despite her attempts to maintain an air of indifference. She couldn’t deny that their rivalry had a strange way of bringing them together.

[multifandomfix]

Wednesdays In Westview — Wanda Maximoff

Summary: You and Wanda spend your days getting accustomed to your brand new house, both ready to start your new life together.

Word Count: 1,279

Warnings: Only some tooth rotting fluff

Wednesday, moving day, had finally arrived, and you couldn't contain your excitement. Westview was everything you and Wanda had hoped for. It was quiet, picturesque, and the perfect place to start your life together as newlyweds. The house was inviting, its white picket fence gleaming in the sunlight. You glanced over at Wanda, her eyes sparkling with the same joy that filled your heart. She gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, her smile radiating the love that had brought you both to this moment.

As you stepped up to the door, the smell of fresh paint mingled with the aroma of the roses Wanda had planted in the front garden. Inside, the walls were a soft, welcoming shade of cream, and the hardwood floors gleamed under the sunlight streaming through the large windows. Wanda looked at you with a playful smile, her fingers lacing through yours. "Welcome home, darling," she whispered, her voice a sweet melody that made you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

You spent the day unpacking, laughing as you stumbled over each other in the small hallway, bickering over where to place the furniture. Wanda insisted that the sofa belonged by the window so you could watch the sunsets together. You couldn’t argue with that logic. Every now and then, she'd brush her hand against your cheek or steal a quick kiss, making your heart flutter each time.

At one point, you found yourselves in a tug-of-war with a particularly heavy box. "I've got it," you grunted, determined to prove your strength.

Wanda raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. "Oh really? Because it looks like the box has got you." With a mischievous gleam in her eye, she gave the box a gentle nudge with her magic, causing it to float effortlessly to its designated spot.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Cheater."

"Resourceful," she corrected, her grin widening. "Besides, why strain when you have me?"

Later, you found yourselves in the kitchen, surrounded by boxes of dishes and utensils. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden hue across the room. Wanda wrapped her arms around your waist from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder. "You know," she said softly, "I always dreamed of this. A home with you."

You turned around, cupping her face in your hands. "Me too, Wanda. And this is just the beginning." The look in her eyes was pure love, and you knew she felt the same. She leaned into your touch, her eyes closing briefly as she savored the moment.

That evening, you decided to take a break and celebrate. Wanda had prepared a simple dinner, and you both sat on the floor in the living room, your legs intertwined as you shared a meal. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow on her face. She fed you a piece of strawberry from the dessert she'd made, her fingers lingering on your lips.

"Do you think we'll always be this happy," you asked, tracing circles on the back of her hand.

Wanda leaned in, her forehead touching yours. "As long as we're together, I know we will be." Her lips brushed against yours in a tender kiss, sealing her promise.

The night ended with the two of you lying in bed, exhausted but content. You held her close, feeling her heartbeat sync with yours. Wanda whispered sweet nothings, her fingers running through your hair until you drifted off to sleep.

In the morning, you woke up to the sound of birds chirping and the smell of coffee. Wanda stood by the window, watching the sunrise, a mug of steaming coffee in her hand. She turned to you, her smile brighter than the sun itself. "Good morning, my love," she said.

You joined her by the window, wrapping your arms around her. "Good morning, Wanda." The view from your new home was beautiful, but nothing compared to the woman beside you.

The days that followed were filled with settling in and making the house truly yours. One afternoon, a week later, as you were hanging pictures in the living room, Wanda appeared with a box of old vinyl records she had just unpacked. "Look what I discovered," she remarked.

You took the box from her and began to sift through the records. "These are amazing," you said, pulling out a record with a familiar cover. "We have to play this one."

Wanda set up the old turntable, and soon the room was filled with the warm, crackling sound of classic music. She held out her hand to you, a mischievous glint in her eye. "May I have this dance?"

You laughed, taking her hand and pulling her close. The two of you swayed to the music, the world outside fading away. It felt like you were the only two people in the universe, wrapped up in each other's arms.

As the song ended, Wanda pulled back slightly, her eyes locked on yours. "I love you," she murmured softly.

"I love you too," you replied, your heart swelling with emotion. You leaned in and kissed her, pouring all of your love into that single moment.

More weeks passed, and you found a comfortable routine. Every morning, Wanda would make coffee while you prepared breakfast. You would sit together at the kitchen table, talking about your plans for the day and sharing dreams for the future. Each evening, you would cook dinner together, laughing and joking as you worked side by side.

One weekend, you decided to plant a garden in the backyard. Wanda was in her element, guiding you as you dug holes and planted seeds. "This is going to be beautiful," she said, wiping a smudge of dirt from her cheek.

"Just like you," you replied, earning a playful swat on the arm.

As the garden began to take shape, you were finally starting to see the future you were building together. Each flower and vegetable plant was a testament to your relationship and the life you were creating together.

On another Wednesday evening, a few months in, you were sitting on the porch, watching the stars. Wanda leaned her head on your shoulder. "Do you think we'll grow old together here," she asked, soft and contemplative.

You took her hand in yours, squeezing it gently. "I know we will," you assured.

Wanda smiled at your answer. "I'm so happy we found each other," she told you.

"Me too," you replied, kissing her forehead. "You’re my everything, Wanda."

Each day you were together brought new joys and challenges, and through it all, you had Wanda by your side. You celebrated birthdays, holidays, and everyday moments that made your life together special.

One morning, you woke up to find Wanda standing in the kitchen, a tray of breakfast in her hands. "Happy anniversary," she beamed.

You sat up, a smile spreading across your face. "You remembered."

"Of course I did," she replied, setting the tray down on the bed. "How could I forget the day we started our life together?"

You spent the day reminiscing about your journey, from your first meeting to the moment you moved into your home in Westview. It was a day filled with laughter, love, and the promise of many more years together.

As the sun set, you stood on the porch, watching the sky turn shades of pink and orange. Wanda wrapped her arms around you, her head resting on your shoulder. "I love you more every day," she said softly.

"I love you too," you replied, turning in her arms and kissing her gently. "Here's to forever."

With Wanda by your side, you knew that no matter what the future held, you would face it together. Your home in Westview was more than just a house. It was a symbol of your love and the life you were building. And as you stood there, holding the woman who meant everything to you, you knew that you had found your happily ever after.

For anon

Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul, @immyowndefender, @valencethefriendlychangeling, @crimsonwidow666, @rebelbossheart, @thedailyspiritualist, @orangeisnttheonlyfruit, @woman-simp, @aperol-with-izzy, @leonoralessoem, @ellepossum69, @lakita-fisher, @nclgsticore, @analuw, @luvlesavyy, @malfoyfeed, @aliciabrower, @bitchr-mkay, @sparrowspixie, @imaginationismyworldlypleasure, @og-kxsh-420

Wanda Maximoff: @unexpected-character, @lilyontheloose, @puppy-coded, @marinarashakeyobooty, @og-kvsh-420, @becomingthedreamversionofme, @music-bird, @chaotic-mushroomz, @mbruben-stein, @sunflowergurlsposts, @danimorgan1708, @multifandomlover01, @wandsmxmff, @ayyy-lety, @tokyo-liv, @geekyandgay98, @sweetyprincesschaos, @yetanotherattemptatanaccount, @lady-darkswan3, @postcardgirl425, @garlicbreadrry, @foxherder, @esther123123, @alexthen3rd, @ahlookatallthelonelypeople, @chaoticdragonrage

[shutupineedtothink]

AAA final thoughts + praise 🙌🏼

Ok now that I’ve had a few days to sit with the finale and let go of my preconceived ideas of what it should be, yeah it really was brilliant. I still don’t Iove ghost Agatha, but I get it. And now I’m really pulling for Wanda to come back so that she can bring Agatha back (this happens in the comics apparently) and we can do a MCU witch movie. Sign Jac Schaeffer IMMEDIATELY, Feige. Lock her down, we all want more of this shit.

As to where the show ranks overall in the MCU, I feel like at this point it has to be #1. Even above WandaVision, and certainly above Loki, as much as I love both of them. This show just does… more. Like I can’t believe how much they packed into these 9 episodes. This is what… a true six hander? Six fully defined characters with fully developed arcs and satisfying journeys? With the possible exception of Agatha and Billy’s journey not being over yet, which doesn’t take away from their arcs and development along the show. (Again, had to let go of my own theories there.) WandaVision at most had 3… Wanda, Vision, and Monica, and I don’t feel like Vision had much of an arc tbh.

And then all the little witchy horror movie references throughout, the incredible seeding of the Billy’s Road reveal, building up and breaking down the coven, Agatha’s incredible complexity as a character and not being able to neatly put her in any category, hero, villain, anti-hero, whatever. You really can’t pin her down and I don’t think I’ve seen that in the MCU ever. I guess the last character like that was sort of Loki, but he had more of a true redemption arc. Agatha just… exists in the gray at all times. You just never know what she’s gonna do. And it’s amazing.

Then there’s the Ballad and truly weaving that throughout the whole show in such a way that it’s instrumental (pun intended) to the plot… who does that? Plus the amazing score that feels just as present throughout. The only comp I can kind of make is Clara’s theme in DW, but the Ballad is way more intentional throughout.

I can’t possibly go into it all but the sheer amount of setup and pay off is incredible. And yet we leave with more mysteries to solve and more questions to ask, which is also incredible!

Not to mention the production design, the practical effects, costumes, makeup — every visual was stunning.

And I’m not even going to get into AgathaRio (and Nicky) and all the tragic complexity there. I get wanting a happy ending but… also what ever made you think this would be as simple as a happy ending? They are a. Capital S. STORY. They’re practically mythological. Who cares about happily ever after when you can have Epic, Fated, Complex Romance that literally transcends this Earth. Like what more do you want?? That is the top echelon of epic romance. Disconnect the “happy ever after” = “good romance” link in your brain, you know? Judge by complexity and emotionality and dynamic range rather than something as simple and boring as do they end up together or not. They’re so wildly interesting and I’m so glad we could get more of them in the future. (Ok I did get into it oops)

And the humor?? I don’t think I even need to say anything. But what comedic excellence from everyone across the board, with Kathryn Hahn leading the charge of course. And to balance that with the drama without undercutting either of them is not easy, but they all did it flawlessly.

I could go on and on but I just hope this show, and Jac, and Kathryn, and everyone involved gets their flowers for this work of art. There’s just so much love and care and intentionality here. It really feels like a standout not just in the MCU but in contemporary TV in general. Easily my top show of 2024, it’s not even a contest. ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

[yyawnjun]

THEO AS TATTOO ARTIST

from my serie: P1HARMONY STUDIO

A tattoo of water lilies, an attractive and talented tattoo artist, a phone number that is seemingly impossible to obtain, and certain feelings that are hard to hide. What could ever happen? a.n.: first part! hope y'all appreciate the lil connection between the stories ndaja (you will understand reading the other stories when they will be out <3) ; 2,5k wc ; fluff !!; no warnings ; theo being a tattoo artist makes so much sense. ; shootout for this beautiful banner AND for proofreading this to my favorite girl ever @gfnextdoor @sobun1est (GO TO FOLLOW HER RN) ; writing this to find all of the few p1eces on this app!!

event taglist : @tkooooop (send an ask to be added)

Soon the receptionist found your name on the appointment list and led you down a hallway to room 11 where you would speak for the first time with your tattoo artist about your first tattoo. You had been thinking about getting it for years, and you were looking for the right place and the right time in your life. So one day, after moving alone to a new city to continue your studies, you decided to celebrate the new beginning with a tattoo.

After a long search for the perfect shop, you were lucky to come across "P1HARMONY," a shop with great reviews despite being little known. You had previously decided what you wanted tattooed, where on your body, and in what style. After seeing some tattoos on the Instagram page, you decided to visit the place. In particular, the amazing and simple style of a specific Theo caught your eye. Unfortunately, the tattoo artist you wanted wasn't available when you first visited. However, you were able to schedule a meeting for the next day so you could talk to him face-to-face about your tattoo.

It was around 10 am when you entered room number 11. When you walked in, you saw that the blinds were still a touch low so the light was reflected enough to illuminate the room without being overly blinding or annoying. You immediately saw the boy who introduced himself as Choi Taeyang, your tattoo artist seated on the chair next to a desk. His pale skin provided a pleasing contrast to accentuate his reddish lips, and his jet-black hair matched the color of his eyes. His expression seemed calm and even his glazed eyes were softened by a small smile. He didn't have any tattoos on his arms as you expected, but you could see one on his chest because of the shirt's neckline.

“I heard this will be your first tattoo. What were you thinking of doing?” He asked you after you walked in and sat down in the chair across from him. Even though a whole desk between you two, you could still feel your heart pound as his black eyes remained to gaze at yours. His calm attitude quickly made you feel comfortable, to the point where you began discussing your desired tattoo design. You clarified that you wanted a water lily to be placed on the inside of your arm. To ensure that his style was appropriate for you, he got up to display his collection of tattoos. 

He got up and took a big notebook from a shelf that had sketches and pictures of tattoos he had done. As you reviewed that type of portfolio, you grew to admire his lovely line and the numerous incredibly accurate details that accompanied it. You saw that, although focusing more on the medium-sized tattoos, he had no trouble applying color and that the size of his tattoos was the most different.  

As soon as you finished looking at his notebook. You looked up, convinced now more than ever that he would be the one to give you your first tattoo. You started to look at him, but he was already looking at you. You looked away for a moment while he kept his gaze. “Okay, I’m convinced”

“Perfect, then by this evening I will send you some ideas of your tattoo, both colored and not. Once you have seen them, we can discuss the price together.”

“Thank you. Do I need to leave my email or my number to the secretary?”

“Yes… I mean, no, don’t worry. If it’s okay with you, you can leave it with me and I will contact you,” all his confidence seemed to waver as he said that. His voice sounded halting, and his cheeks were flushed. You didn’t pay much attention and gave your number to him.

“So, water-lily girl, what’s your name?”

You chuckled at the funny nickname "Yn, my name is Yn," to which he responded with a smile and a firm handshake.

In contrast to your hand, his hand felt quite warm and had a firm hold. You got up to go a little while later, and he got up right away to open the door.

A quick nod and you were out of room number eleven. You walked towards the main exit where you ran into two boys, one tall with red hair and lip piercings, and one with black hair and a temporary henna tattoo on his arm.

“And you know that, even though I’ve known Theo for a week now, I still haven’t managed to get his number!” said the red-haired boy.  Suddenly, their conversation took on a more intriguing tone. I mean, because you already had his number…

"Of all the people I know, very few have his number." the other boy replied. And after that sentence, you lost a heartbeat skip and an involuntary smile. Why did they ask for your number? Or was it all just your imagination? The truth is that you had to move from your hiding spot to get out. You did this by lightly smiling at the two boys.

“And she didn’t leave her contacts at the secretary’s office,” the receptionist told the two boys that were still looking at the girl that just left the shop.

“Either Theo scared her, or Theo took her contacts,” the henna boy replied.

“She was really cute, I don’t know whether to hope that he scared her or that he thought she was cute,” the redhead added.

“The second option,” said Theo, who had just joined in the discussion. No one had noticed his arrival, and everyone was slightly scared by his sudden comment.

“You did well, I’ll be rooting for you. You should give me your number so you can keep me updated.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Jiung,” Theo chuckled before going back to his studio to take care of your tattoo.

It was 8 pm and you had just finished taking a shower when your phone rang. It was a message from an unknown number. But you immediately recognized who it was from the profile picture, and his introduction in the message; it was Theo, the tattoo artist. For a little while you felt the emotion rise, even if he hadn't written you anything so crazy... but you could still hear the voices of those two boys talking about how rare it was to have his phone number. And you got it right away... that boy blushed and stammered when he asked you for it. Oh, how all those romantic Kdramas are starting to bring out your delusional side…

“Hey, I'm Theo, the tattoo artist at p1harmony. We met today and I texted you to show you some tattoo ideas. Sorry, there are a lot, I ended up getting carried away. I hope you like at least one. Let me know so I can fill a spot for you starting tomorrow if you're available.

Have a good evening Yn”

You grinned at the message and began glancing through the pictures. Every one of them was more beautiful than the last.

The style was similar in all of them, and yet they were so different. You fell in love in particular with a water lily colored in a reddish pink with green petals. It had little stars around it that lit up the water lily, giving it a fairy-like tone-

You stood alone thinking about the tattoos and imagining the boy doing them. As he worked on his graphics tablet, you could picture him focused, with his eyes half closed and his forehead slightly furrowed. After a while, you responded to him, telling him which one was your favorite and asking if you could have an appointment the next day.

“A date tomorrow. Sure, see you at 10 am.” he sent the message shortly after your confirmation.

“Of course, I meant for your tattoo.” at 1 am, when you were still awake watching your favorite TV series.

You smiled and replied with a funny emoji to let him understand that you knew it.

“...unless” was the message he sent you at 1.54 am, which you saw fleetingly - because you were still absorbed in watching the series - and which he deleted a minute later.

You wanted to scream because that message had caught you off guard. Unless what? You were fantasizing a little too much about a boy you had met the day before…

Shortly after you fell asleep lulled by those sweet thoughts.

“Welcome,” he said to you as soon as you returned to room number eleven. You found him standing next to the armchair where you were supposed to lie down. He was wearing black gloves and a white shirt that highlighted his hair, which was particularly neat, pulled back by a light layer of gel. 

He had a warm smile that lit up his face, and his eyes shone with the light that came in from the windows.

“Come and sit here, so we can try the stencil,” he told you.

You sat down while he went to print the stencil of the tattoo you had chosen. You had time to admire his studio. Everything was clean, and the predominant colors were black and white. On the walls hung some of his tattoos and sometimes certifications. 

You smiled when you saw a print of a painting by Monet, of water lilies that stood out next to his desk. It seems like he did some research for your tattoo. He appeared so young, yet so skilled; the room featured a few bookcases filled with different tattoo manuals and journals containing pictures and sketches of his tattoos.

You took a moment to lean over and check the year he had won the competition, so you could figure out how old he was.

Just as you were checking he came back and stopped your train of thought. “I was born in 2001, and now I’m 23.” he smiled at you as you shyly sat back down.

“Oh okay..thanks,” you said blushing.

“Here’s the print, stay still while I try to position it on you.”

He was able to place the print on top with extreme delicacy since you sat down and stretched your arm. "Are you ready, Yn?" and you gave a nod.

"Alright. I've already prepared everything I need; we can get started."

Suddenly your arm contracted at the contact with his hands, the fear of the needle of that machine mixed with the delicacy of your body gave you shivers all over your body.

Your arm suddenly tightened at the touch of his fingers; the combination of your body's sensitivity and your fear of the machine's needle sent shivers down your spine.

"Is everything okay?"  he asked you, stopping before even touching you with the needle.

"Yes." 

"They won't hurt; they'll be like tiny pinches, I swear. - he said - tell me a little about yourself so you can distract yourself in the meantime."

The proposal seemed acceptable to you, so you started to talk about your recent move. He nodded in silence and added a few questions. You noticed that the pain had become bearable, and you took your time observing the boy so concentrated while he tattooed you. His eyes were half-closed, and his head was scrunched up, just as you had imagined. His mouth was slightly open, and he was carefully holding your arm while he tattooed you. With more time to focus on him, you became aware of how near your face was to his, and you made an effort to glance aside to keep your eyes from meeting.

“And would you like to tell me something about yourself?” you asked him bravely. You were used to listening, but you had been pleased to be able to talk to someone. He also spoke a little bit about himself, saying that he had moved into the studio a year before and was gradually getting to know all the people who worked there. He cherished that work environment, and they were all wonderful people. He spoke and you listened to him; he and he remained focused. He was so attractive that even if you tried not to get lost in his words, you found yourself missing a few sentences.

You had lost a few heartbeats, your sense of time, and now even your shred of dignity when you decided to ask him if he was dating someone.

He looked up for a moment, shook his head, and asked you the same question again.

“No, I’m not,” you told him.

Theo and you both began to smile, but you hardly noticed his as you felt his heartbeat quicken due to your posture allowing your palm to lightly feel his heartbeat. 

Before you knew it, the tattoo was finished.

“It’s so beautiful,” you said

“Yes.. beautiful.” he said looking into your eyes, and then added “Yes, the tattoo. I’m proud of it.” he continued pretending as if nothing had happened.

Shortly after he placed a specific wrap around your tattoo, to prevent it from getting ruined or infected. You quickly paid for the tattoo and stood up to go.

“It was nice meeting you, you can text me if you need anything. You already have my number anyway”

“Thanks again, Theo.”

“Unless…” he said to you when you were at the door with your back turned.

You connected to the deleted message right away. Was that cryptic method he was asking you out? Instead, you chose to be naive and pretended to be confused.

You turned around and found him standing a few meters away from you.

“We can see each other again tonight, you and I. But not for your tattoo. I mean, would you go on a date with me?” he asked you.

Your heart started to beat wildly.

“Sure Theo, I’d love it.” and immediately your gazes moved. “I’ll text you the details then,” he said to you.

Out of excitement, you turned around and tried to push the door to leave…even though it said “PULL” in large letters.

He smiled and tried to open it for you, but you managed to be quicker.

When you opened the door intending to listen in on your conversation, you found two boys outside the room you saw the first day.

We are even now, you thought, recalling the first time you overheard their chat...

But Theo didn’t see it that way and started chasing while the two tried to escape.

“INTAK, JIUNG STOP NOW.”

You smiled and greeted them, then tried to leave while giggling at the funny scene.

At the entrance, you find a boy with platinum blonde hair who has just arrived. You noticed from his bags that he was probably a make-up artist who worked there.

“Hey, you must be Yn,” he said to you

“Uhm yes, who are you?”

“ Oh sorry, I’m Keeho. I work here as a make-up artist, and Theo told me about you. Just tell me if that dork dared to ask you out.”

“He did.” you smiled.

“Let's go, Jongseob owes me 10 euros… may I ask you again if you accepted?” And you nodded.

“YES! Thank you. Now Soul also owes me 10 euros. One day, I will offer you free makeup.”

You laughed at the amusing interaction, nodded, and walked out, your thoughts still wandering as you imagined the upcoming date with Theo.

[luvrxbunny]

fries

Pairing: Steve Harrington x F!Reader

Prompt: Semi-Public Sex

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, handjob, teeny bit of praise (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 1.6k

A/N: couldn’t figure out how to end this *crying in the distance*

You’ve all been drinking and smoking- more drinking than smoking. You all smoked on the way over here, hot-boxing Eddie’s van and stressing Steve- the driver- out. You made up to him by promising to be the designated driver tonight, but plans fell through when Eddie coaxed you into drinking with him. 

Luckily, Nancy was much more responsible than the rest of you, she didn’t even come out tonight, saying she had work or assignments to do- who knows. She offered to pick you all up whenever you were ready to go home, preferring to get you all at 2 AM than let any of you drive drunk. So you were uninhibited, taking multiple breaks to smoke in Eddie’s van before coming back into the bar for more drinks. 

You’re all sitting in a half-moon booth, you’ve ordered fries for yourself, getting extreme munchies from whatever strain Eddie currently has. Robin, Eddie, and Steve are all talking about something else, some band that Eddie doesn’t think deserves to make music..? Or something like that? All you’re focused on is how criminally unseasoned these fries are. 

You look around the table for salt but get distracted by Steve. He looks amazing tonight, he looks amazing every night, if we’re being honest. His hair is its usual, incredible, caramel brown color and his eyes are shining with the passion of his conversation. His hands are veiny, his thick fingers pointing accusingly at Eddie as he shouts about whatever band. His biceps are bulging with how hard he’s pointing, making the sleeves of his collared shirt pulled tight over his skin. You’re counting the moles up his neck when he turns to you, his thick eyebrows un-tensing when he notices your staring. His chocolate brown eyes soften when he takes in the small smile resting on your lips. 

You try to calm down and play it off like you aren’t madly in love with him but it doesn't quite work, it just manifests itself differently. “Can you pass me the salt, loverboy?” 

His eyes go wide. 

You try not to act too embarrassed at the words that have left your mouth. You’ve never called him that before, you’re worried that you feel much more for him than he feels for you so you try to limit yourself to ‘babe’ and ‘baby’.

You know how Steve used to be, you know he used to date around, that he was one of the most sought-after guys in high school, which is why it was a bit shocking when he confessed to you. You were never really popular, you’d see Steve around school but never really got involved, and you only showed up in your junior year. You cruised by unnoticed by almost the entire student body, except for the Hellfire club… and Steve apparently. He’d fallen for you in your limited time at Hawkins, he’d spoken to you here and there, simple interactions to you but for Steve, they meant a lot. You didn’t even realize he was pursuing you until graduation when he confessed. 

It’s been a year now and he’s just staring at you silently. You looked away from him in embarrassment but you’re forced to look back due to his silence. Eddie and Robin are still arguing, moving on without Steve and you’re looking at him again, trying not to pass out at his cuteness as you watch a blush spread over his face. 

He stays silent as he reaches across the table blindly, still staring at you as he grips what he rightly assumes is the salt and hands it to you. “Thank you, baby.” His brows furrow for a moment as he seems to blink back to life. 

“Loverboy?” He questions softly. You already turned your attention back to your fries when he speaks. He looks a bit sad, almost scared. “Sorry, what?” You say with a light giggle, hoping to bring his mood up from whatever brought it down. 

He scoots toward you in a way that’s just too adorable, the way he looks down at the bench to ensure there’s room for him before smiling up at you timidly and pulling himself closer. “I’m… I’m loverboy?” His tone brings a smile to your face as you turn back to your fries.

“Yeah. You’re my loverboy! And- and I’m your lovergirl! If you want I mean. I don’t know it’s- It’s so dumb.” You laugh nervously at his continued silence. “I think I heard it somewhere? It’s a thing I think. I don’t really know, it just came into my head I guess.” His hand comes to your thigh with a tight grip to stop your rambling. You take a bite of your fry before turning to him. 

His face is red. You’ve actually never seen him so red. He’s panting a bit as he lowers to you. You stare at him wide-eyed as you eat your fries, his eyes are flicking from your lips to your eyes and back down as you chew.  His lips are on yours the second you finish chewing, he’s whining and moaning into your mouth a bit louder than he should and you can’t help but smile against his lips. 

“W-what’s this f-” He cuts you off with another kiss, pushing your head into his mouth with a groan and you melt into him. His lips are a bit frantic against yours, they taste like weed, beer, and butter from the popcorn this bar has been serving. His tongue is soft and smooth as it slides into your mouth, pressing itself to the roof and gliding over yours with a moan before he pulls away. You’re delirious from the kiss, slow to open your eyes, and smiling the moment you do. His face has somehow turned an even deeper crimson color and his hands are rubbing the sides of your face, caressing you as he leans down to bury his face in your neck. You giggle at the action and he groans.

“I love it.” His voice is breathy and muffled but you can hear him perfectly. It takes you a second to realize what he means but the moment you do, you feel a heat spread throughout your body. You’re always sensitive for him, even more so when you’re high and extra needy when you’re drunk. Steve is the same way. 

He’s already scooting even closer to you, now pressing his boner into your thigh. “Call me it again? Say it again, baby. Lovergirl, fuck. Say it again.” He’s starting to slowly grind himself into your thigh and you look over to where Robin and Eddie were sitting. You notice they’ve ditched you both for a game of darts, very engrossed in it, giving you the perfect opportunity. 

You reach for Steve’s buckle immediately and earn a gasp from him. He leans back, giving you more access to his pants but holds a shocked look on his face. “What’re you doing, honey? Shit. Here?” You smile at him eagerly as you stick your hand into his pants, gripping his cock where it rests in his briefs. His hips twitch up into your hand, and his hand slides from the side of your face to behind your head as he pulls your lips to his, moaning into your mouth as you play with his slit, bringing more pre-cum to spill from him. 

He has to pull away to whimper your name as you begin to pump him. “What is it, loverboy?” He moans at the nickname, thrusting his dick further into your hand and begging you to go faster. “You’re so cute, Steve, such a sweet guy.” He whines your name on repeat like a prayer before pulling his head out, letting you see his face, how pink it is, and how desperate he looks. “Love y’so much, feels so good. You’re so dirty, baby. T-touching me in front of- holy shit.” He moans and kisses you briefly before pressing his forehead against yours, his hair tickling the apple of your cheeks. “In front of our friends like this. So good.”

His eyelids are fluttering as he tries to open them, to look at you as you pleasure him. You can tell his words are affecting him more than you, his hips starting to grind up into your hand, his hands trying to pull you closer to his face as he begins to whine for you. “I’m gonna cum, lovergirl.” 

A smirk grows over his face as the pet name rolls off his tongue, pulling a whine from you as you force his lips against yours. You moan into his mouth, groaning as you rub your tongue over his. His hips begin to stutter in their rhythm and you pull back. “Cum for me, loverboy.”

Steve lets out a last choked moan and starts cumming. You can feel his cock, tense, and pulse in your hand as he cums. His stomach tensing in time with his muffled moans, getting stuck in his mouth, behind his bitten lip. He’s forcing his eyes open now, willing them to keep your contact as he covers your fist in his cum. He curls in on himself with a groan as his cock spits out the last thick rope from his sensitive tip. 

He’s shaking as he huffs out slow breaths, trying to calm himself as you stroke his hair softly. He rests his head on your shoulder, panting your name with a light chuckle when you start pressing kisses to his head until he comes up. You start kissing all over his face then, ignoring his little giggles for you to stop, only listening when he grips the sides of your head with a beaming smile and kisses you. 

“Guys! Robin keeps cheating!” Eddie calls for you both in a teasing sing-song voice, jogging toward the booth. 

“You can’t cheat at darts.” Robin shouts back, laughing at him as she joins his journey over here. They’re arguing again by the time they reach the table, not noticing your struggle to pull your hand from Steve’s pants without getting cum on his shirt. 

“Guys, stop arguing. I’m calling Nancy.” Steve states with a hilariously stern tone. You laugh at the three of them as the duo begs Steve not to call her. 

Thank you so mcuh for reading! If you enjoyed, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 12th: Soulmates | Eight - Sleeping at Last | Perceptive a/n: steddie, soulmates au (phillia + eros). eddie & jeff as platonic soulmates, stobin soulmates mentioned always. un-betaed because I’m challenging myself to write these in under an hour. read on ao3 | link to masterpost on ao3

Soulmates, Eddie scoffs to himself as he doodles in his notebook at the back of the coffee shop. Bullshit. 

He knows it’s actually not, that people walk around every day hand-in-hand with beautiful, swirling tattoos that grow in intricacy and detail the more time they spend with their soulmate. Most days, Eddie doesn’t mind that the simple snake design on the inside of his wrist never so much as slithers, but today? Today, he minds. 

Dating in the world of soulmates is challenging. He tries to just focus on how feels, on if the person sitting across from him is compatible with his lifestyle, on if there’s any kind of spark, but it’s inevitable that at some point, both he and his date look down at their wrists to find nothing. 

His coffee date had gone well enough but, like always, was a dead-end. How many paths can one person try before the destination seems moot? 

So he sits and scribbles in his notebook, hoping that perhaps staying in the coffee shop rather than returning home to the apartment he shares with Jeff will provide some inspiration. That tattoo, the one that’d started as a small star on his ankle, has grown into a whirling galaxy since moving in with Jeff– a philia connection if he’s ever seen one. But if his eros tattoo won’t build upon itself naturally, he’ll do it manually with a tattoo gun. 

It also helps that the barista is perhaps the most beautiful man Eddie’s ever laid eyes on, enough so that it’s… actually a little intimidating, if he’s being honest with himself. Intimidating to the point that Eddie’s yet to approach him for a refill since the girl who’d given him his first sugary abomination finished her shift. Besides, the mystery barista must’ve already found his soulmate. His entire left arm, from fingertip to at least his elbow, is covered in delicate, colorful designs that twist and wind about his skin, curling around each finger and looping gracefully up his arm.

I can still enjoy the view, he justifies to himself, taking a sip from his cup and remembering for the third time that it’s empty. 

He sighs and sets it back down, clearing his throat. It’s as good a time as any, he supposes, as he stands from his little corner table by the window and strolls across the room to the counter. 

“Hi, what can I get started for ya?” The barista asks, his name tag now visible and proclaiming Steve. 

“Uh,” he starts. “Salted caramel mocha, please?” 

Steve’s smile is bright and he leans on the counter, leveling it straight in Eddie’s direction. All Eddie wanted was a refill on his sweet treat disguised as coffee and instead, it feels as though he’s smacked in the head.

“Comin’ right up,” Steve replies, turning around to get his order going. “You’ve been sitting over there for a while, how’d that date go?” He asks with the confidence and familiarity of someone Eddie’s known his entire life. 

“Watching me, were you?” 

Steve grins over his shoulder, shrugging. “A little.” 

“I’m flattered. Well, I’m still here and they’re not so that oughta tell you everything.” 

Steve hums and turns back to the machine, finishing up his order. Eddie’s heart beats rhythmically, somehow slowing and quickening all at once and his lungs feel buoyed by something more powerful than his breath. When Steve faces him again and hands him his cup, exchanging it for the empty one in Eddie’s hand, they both freeze. 

Eddie’s snake begins to move. 

A clear, serpentine movement at the center as small, geometric lines begin to appear in the background. 

“Holy shit,” Eddie whispers, setting his full cup down so he doesn’t spill it. 

“Yeah, holy shit.” Steve places his other arm on the counter, the blank one, and Eddie sees that it’s not blank. There’s a small, barebones tree on his forearm whose leaves begin to blossom and shake, different shades of greens and oranges appearing before his eyes. 

“But– your other arm?” Eddie chokes out, eyes flickering between his own wrist, Steve’s forearm, and Steve’s other, fuller arm. 

“Philia. That’s Robin. But this one, this is eros.” Steve smiles again, matching the one Eddie can feel spreading across his own face as he looks up from his forearm. “I’m Steve.”

Steve smiles again, matching the one Eddie can feel spreading across his own face as he looks up from his forearm. Eddie looks in wonderment, searching for any sign of lie or trickery in Steve’s eyes and finds nothing but warmth and familiarity. 

“I’m Eddie.”

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Double-Mutated Mikey

Chapter 15: Feral FOMO

Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

Prev || Next

"Llllleeeee--- ohhhh? Llleeeo! LEO!" Mikey shouts, tail flapping wildly and threatening to smack someone upside the head.

"You did it, bud!" Leo squeals, grabbing Mikey and hugging him close. "Ahh, music to my ears! My name has never sounded so good!"

Mikey giggles and sqeaks with joy before pointing to Donnie.

"Ee! Eee!" he says, hoping they get the hint.

"You wanna learn Donnie's name?" Raph asks. Mikey nods.

They spend the next ten minutes working on enunciating the 'D' in 'Donnie'. It's harder than they expected, and Mikey mostly uses the 'T' sound as a cheat. His voice is gravely and scraggly, worn out and scratchy. But it's there. Just a little out of use.

The vocal exercises and enunciation techniques slowly start to get on Mikey's nerves. He's trying, it's just so hard! And to him, he thinks he IS saying properly, it sounds right! But not good enough for the others.

But it's worth all the irritation, because when Mikey finally makes that 'D' sound, the room erupts into cheering. Mikey is elated.

The rest of the afternoon is spent teaching Mikey to speak again. They focus on sounds, pronouncing them as best as possible. Mikey understands the language, he just has to re-train his throat and vocal chords and tongue. But by lunchtime, he can say various basic words and phrases, such as his own name, Leo and Raph and Donnie and Splinter and Casey, food and cold and human, hurt and happy and scared and angry, among others. Simple things to help him express himself in quick moments. He's getting the hang of it pretty well.

Lunchtime is fun, Mikey shows off his new vocabulary to Casey, who he was calling male human until he learned his actual name. Casey looks a little hurt by that admission, but is blown away when Mikey says his actual name to him, not just signing! Splinter actually starts crying when he hears Mikey's voice, withered and hoarse as it is.

After lunch, Donnie insists on doing some work and suggests that Mikey have fun with the others, looking at Leo specifically.

Leo takes the hint and goes to get a bunch of puzzles, books, memory games, etc. Things to help Mikey exercise his brain.

Mikey, Raph, Leo, and Casey try to work out a huge jigsaw together in Mikey's room. Mikey seems to understand it well, his eyes moving fast and brain piecing it together. His problem-solving skills are on point. The only issue he comes across is getting to pick up the pieces. His talon-like fingers are too big and sharp, he ends up tearing the paper designs on top of the puzzle pieces. The others help him as much as they can, and soon enough they're halfway through.

Until Donnie walks into the room with an enormous grin on his face.

"If I might have your attention for a moment, I believe I have created something quite ingenious!" he states with excitement.

Mikey knows this excitement, he recognizes it well. He remembers having this same excitement whenever he finished a really good drawing or came up with some new... what was the word... razzmatazz!

It's why he and Donnie hung out a lot before... they were both imaginative creators, and wanted to share their work with people who they knew would appreciate it.

Mikey jumps from his seat and runs up to Donnie, purring and circling around his feet in anticipation.

"D-Dee! Dee make? Mikey see! Mikey see it!"

Donnie smiles enthusiastically and leads him to a room filled with ramps and skateboards. The rec room. They look around in confusion, wondering what Donnie's come up with this time. Dee halts, turns around dramatically, and points upwards.

Mikey cranes his neck and gasps in pure delight.

From the ceiling is hanging hoops, bars, levers, huge tubes with windows, rope swings, ladders, and even a slide! Donnie made him a jungle gym!

Leo whistles in astonishment.

"Geez, Donnie, when did you have the time to make this?"

"After the conversation about the importance of physical exercise yesterday, I got to work on blueprints and designs. I made most of the materials last night, and finally finished setting it up about half an hour ago. It is ready for use!"

He turns to his mutated brother.

"Would you care to do the honour of breaking it in?"

Mikey shrieks in delight and rushes for the gift his brother made him. He leaps up and grabs onto the rope dangling from the ceiling, scrambling up with light speed and swinging as he does. He jumps from the rope to a tube tunnel, scurrying through it and then leaping to the monkey bars, doing all kinds of gymnast moves and even using his tail as an extra arm before swinging to the slide and whooping on the way down.

"Well, that didn't take long," Leo jokes.

"Do you like it?" Donnie asks with anticipation in his voice.

Mikey squeals and shrieks in delight, rushing to his brother and pouncing on him, twirling around and around in his arms.

"MIKEY LOVE!!! Dee make... make Mikey happy! Mikey LOVE DEE!!"

Donnie grips him tightly, hoping to hide the tears in his eyes as his little brother shouts in his ear. He doesn't care, he doesn't mind. Anything for Angelo.

Mikey lets go of Donnie and dashes back to the upside down jungle gym and plays with it over and over again, looking down at them from the windows in the plastic tunnels and chirping at them, as if asking them to join in the fun.

Leo smiles and ribs his twin.

"Well done there, Don-Tron."

.

.

.

"How's its heart rate?"

"Doing well, Dr. Timothy."

"Good. Dr. Chaplin is coming in for an examination, you know how invested he is in our little pet project..."

Mikey runs as fast as he can on the treadmill. He's not getting tired, but he is getting bored. You can only run in place for so long... Cords and suctions and beeping things are attached to his wrist, chest, neck, and head as he runs and runs and runs. There are numbers on the small digital screen connected to his arm. The numbers are pretty high, at least that's what the doctors say.

"80 mph and going steady, Doctor."

"Wonderful! And how long has he been running for?"

"Almost twenty minutes... we've only just started."

"Good. Keep it up, Abigail."

A door opens and another man in a white lab coat walks in.

"Ah! Dr. Chaplin! Good to see you..."

"Mmm. Dr Timothy, Dr. Finn," the man hums, his gaze fixated on Mikey. "How's our little miracle monster doing?"

"Wonderfully, considering we've completely rewritten his DNA and molecular structure. We're testing endurance now. He's holding up fairly well -- health is good, stamina great... he's lost a lot of weight, though."

"Will this be an issue, Dr. Finn?" Chaplin asks, turning to look at the young woman with a tablet.

"Not to my knowledge. If it goes down any lower though, we may have a problem."

"Hm. Keep me updated on that. We want him healthy and strong. Speaking of which, let's place him in the Interaction room after this, Prof. Honeycutt has been good enough to create a new batch of machines for the training simulator, and I would like to see how this 'Mikey' creature handles them."

Abigail Finn nods and turns her attention back to Mikey. This poor dumb animal has no idea how terrible his day is about to get...

.

.

.

Mikey is dozing off a bit, letting his thoughts seep in like molasses, slow and sticky and enveloping him completely.

He had been enjoying the privacy of the tubes, resting in them for a bit as his mind wandered and he watched Raph and Leo teach male human Casey how to skateboard. They'd been doing that for a while, and it is now early evening, possibly around 5PM or so...

He comes back to reality when the memory of the labs is interrupted by April calling for Leo.

"Leo! Hey, 'Neon Leon'! Where IS everyone?"

"Rec room," Leo shouts back.

Mikey pokes his head out of the aperture and watches as April runs in, sees the jungle gym and stops to point at it, her mouth opening in surprise as she wants to ask a question before shaking her head and staying focused on topic.

"Leo, Cass just texted me -- there's an issue happening at the Chelsea Piers! It looks like that komodo-mutated Kristoff Van Bradford, and all-star player turned billionaire owner-slash-coach-slash-recording artist, Tim Dunkman!"

"Those guys?" Leo asks, riding his board up the skate ramp and landing with a twist. "Wow, whou'da thunk we'd hear from them again!"

"So I guess it's hero time, huh?" Raph calls back, jumping down from the opposite ramp and tossing his skateboard onto a nearby bench. "Alrighty then! Let's get our gear and --"

Raph pauses, and turns to Leo.

"Sorry. Uh, what's the move, leader?"

"April, text Cass to try and hold them off but stay safe," Leo responds after thinking it over. "We'll be there soon, just need to figure out a few details."

"On it!" she calls, grabbing her phone out and typing quickly.

"Okay, next up... someone has to stay and keep Mikey company."

Mikey yells his protests, swiftly clambering down from the jungle gym and expressing his utter disinterest at being left behind. Leo seems to ignore him as Casey walks over.

"I can stay, if you need me to..?" he offers.

"Great. Mikey, is that okay with you? Do you feel comfortable with CJ?"

Mikey utters sounds and scoffs as he tries to think of words that can help.

"Mikey... g-go! Mikey... angry, Mikey go! Mikey... not love alone, Mikey go w-with brothers! Mikey... ssss... ssssstttt... stttrrrong! Mikey strrrong, Mikey not, not..."

"Weak?" Raph offers, trying to help with word association.

Mikey nods at Raph. "Mikey... help! Mikey good help, Mikey not weak!"

"It's not about strength or weakness, bud," Leo says, crouching to lay a hand on Mikey's shoulder. "I just don't want to risk losing you again. And I 100% believe that you could kick their butts no problemo, but you need your rest. The last thing you need is to go on a mission and risk getting hurt while you're still recovering."

"Awwwww!" Mikey whines loudly.

"No buts, mi hermanito," Leo says firmly, standing tall. "You're staying here for now. We'll only be gone for a short while, and then we'll be right back."

Mikey pouts and crosses his arms, hoping this will change their minds. It doesn't, and Leo starts to lead Raph and April out of the room to go and fetch Donnie.

Mikey chirps sadly at them and tries to follow before Casey places a hand on his shell, causing him to pause. Mikey whimpers at him, begging him to stop them, or let him go. But Casey doesn't lift his hand. He strokes his shell softly, but seems kind, sympathetic. Mikey sits.

Mikey gazing sadly as his brothers walk out carrying weapons. Donatello stops to glance back at Mikey, a worried expression on his face. He keeps walking, though. Mikey follows after them quietly, watching as Leo swipes his sword and creates a portal in the air.

Mikey's eyes widen.

When did he learn to do that?!

The three others step through the portal before Leo, who turns back to see Mikey giving him a sad expression.

"We'll be back soon," Leo promises, a soft smile on his face.

Mikey takes in the smells sifting through the portal. Water. Fish. Smoke from cars and boats and machines, something like rubber from balls like the ones he and the other experiments were given to play with...

Leo steps through, and the swirling blue light vanishes. Mikey yipes a quick whinge, then runs to where it was a second ago.

"Don't worry, they're okay, they'll be back!" Casey promises.

Mikey is not happy about this. He wants his brothers back now.

They left you again. I knew they would. Betrayal. Betrayal. Betrayal.

Mikey starts running immediately.

"Wait, Mikey!! Where're you going?!" Casey calls after him.

Mikey isn't sure. He's following his nose for now... He dashes back and forth, looking for the exit...

He finds the garage where the tank is, but doesn't understand how to navigate the tunnels... Casey runs in after him, out of breath.

"Mi-- wheeze, wheeze -- Mike, Mikey! Would you -- gasp, gasp -- would you slow down for just a second?!"

Mikey can't. Mikey has to be fast. Mikey has to be swift. It will be bad otherwise.

The labs taught us that.

Mikey finds a hatch high up in the ceiling. There's a ladder. Mikey runs to it, despite the shouts of disapproval Casey yells. Mikey makes it all the way to the top and inspects the hatch.

Unscrew. Lift. Simple.

It is simple. Mikey twists the manhole cover and pushes it up. He climbs out and looks around.

LOUD. VERY LOUD.

Mikey ignores the blaring sounds of traffic and the overwhelming smell of bad humans. It's everywhere. He crawls out of the manhole and slinks to the shadows, watching. Looking. Smelling.

Saltwater. Fish. Smoke. Rubber. Look for those. SMELL.

Mikey smells. He can very faintly pick up the scent. He hears Casey yelling after him as he climbs the ladder rungs to give chase. Mikey dashes away over the wire fence behind him before the male human can take him back down.

Mikey is swift and unseen. He manages to snake himself about in secret, dodging all eyes as he follows the scent of saltwater and fish to the pier. Once there, he finds the smells of rubber and smoke. He follows it to a section of the pier where several warehouses and complexes are being evacuated as a reptilian man with long blonde hair, and a tall and thin man wearing a mystic amulet around his neck are demolishing the place.

"Dis will teach you imbeciles to underestimate Kristoff Van Bradford!"

"And I will not let my career be a shambles! If I can't have the basketball championship, then NO ONE CAN! Nobody one-ups 'The Dunk'!!"

The two men create chaos and smash the sports equipment as a young woman fights against them, drawing their attention away from the crowds.

"Kaliiii MAAAA!!" she yells, flipping as she dodges their attacks. "Is that the best you can do?! A BABY COULD FIGHT BETTER!"

Mikey ducks in and watches from a corner. This female human smells like the male human he ditched back at the lair. He wonders...

Mikey suddenly hears a familiar sound. A roar that should terrify him, but instead fills his chest with warmth and a joyful feeling of comfort and safety.

Raph lunges forwards, his entire body covered in red light as a ginormous version of himself that covers him up like armour slams his fist into the komodo man. He flies backwards and lands in a basketball store.

"This would be a lot easier if you'd just show us how to do the Seven-Deadly-Vipers move!"

"Kinda in the middle of something, now!" April shouts back.

Mikey sneaks in closer. His brothers are here. Mikey wants his brothers.

But they betrayed you, and left you...

Never.

Leo slides in, his moves quick and calculated. He slashes the air as Raph throws an entire canister of baseballs into the portal he creates. A separate portal activates across the way and slams into the back of the man wearing the amulet. He yells in pain before clutching the amulet tightly, his body contorting in odd ways before transforming into a giant cyclops creature.

"I am SO glad I kept the magic jewel from that archway!" he cackles, grabbing several of the balls and tossing them back at lightning speed.

Leo dodges them, creating a new portal that lands him on top of the cyclops. As the Dunk struggles to reach behind him and grab the turtle, Donnie creates a huge ray gun that sucks up the Hudson River and shoots it at the two villains, soaking them both and slamming them into a wall. Leo creates one last portal behind the Dunk which reopens above a dented basketball hoop. The celebrity flies into the portal and falls into the net, getting stuck upside down in it. The amulet slips off of his neck and clatters to the floor, the one-eyed monster transforming back into a man with a groan.

"Now that's what I call a slam DUNK!" Leo proclaims proudly, doing a quick fistpump.

Meanwhile, Kristoff Van Bradford crashes into a soccer goal and becomes tangled in the net. Raph grabs the two ends of the goal with his hologram form and wraps them around the man, effectively tying him up.

"All wrapped up, eh?" Raph tries.

Leo boos him in jest.

"The jokes are my thing," Leo scorns. "The hero speeches are yours."

Raph rolls his eyes and smiles as he hangs up the green-skinned actor and pet komodo dragon next to Tim Dunkman so they can't escape.

"Is that everything?" Raph asks.

"I think so," Leo sighs, turning to Donnie. "What's the damage?"

"Structurally, not as bad as it could have been. As for the publicity, I think a few people snapped some chats of us," Donnie informs, clicking away on his wrist tech. "But nothing substantial. We're in the clear. The police are on their way now, so we should get going."

Leo nods, ready to lead the way when he stops, his gaze catching Mikey's eyes glittering from the shadows. He peers at him before his eyes widen and his mouth falls open with shocked anger, realizing what the glowing eyes belong to.

"MIKEY?!"

Uh-oh.

The others turn to watch as Leo storms over to where his brother is hiding. Mikey slowly creeps out with soft chirps, hoping it will smooth things over with his infuriated older brother. It doesn't.

"Mikey, what did I tell you?!" he shouts. "I said you needed to stay home! I said we'd be back soon! How in the f--"

"LANGUAGE!" Raph shouts quickly.

"--ffffffffrrick did you get here?!" Leo grumbles.

"Mikey smell brothers, Mikey follows," he explains. "Mikey no like alone. Mikey want brothers."

He looks at the expressions of the people watching his scolding. They don't like that he's here, either.

"Mikey... do bad?" he asks hoarsely, looking up at Leo with sad puppy eyes.

Leo stares back at him, trying to keep from falling for those big eyes again.

Don't fall for it. Don't fall for it...

He lasts five full seconds before closing his eyes and sighing, relaxing his tense shoulders and kneeling down next to his brother.

"Mikey... I just want you to be safe. I can't lose you again."

Lost. Not betrayed. Mikey was lost?

He stores that information away to ask about later...

In the meantime, Leo hoists him up and lets him ride on his back as he takes him home.

"Come on guys, let's get outta here..." he groans.

"I need to stop at the junkyard," Donnie announces. "I need more supplies for some of my tech."

Leo gives a nod and the group hurry away from the pier, avoiding the crowds as they travel to the Repo-Mantis scrapyard.

Mikey clings close to Leo, feeling guilty for making him mad and disobeying him. He whimpers softly, nuzzling closer and resting his cheek against the area between Leo's shoulder and neck. Mikey vibrates his throat, murmuring his self-pity and hoping Leo can tell how sorry he is.

The group arrive at the scrapyard. It's quiet.

"You think he closed for the night?"

"Not like it matters," Donnie says as he slips through the entrance. "I'm not paying for his scrap metal."

The team wander into the area as Donnie flips his goggles and begins scouting for the items he needs. After a few minutes, something in Mikey stirs. He lifts his head high, sniffing the air.

"Mikey? What's up? Something bugging you??" Leo asks, feeling the change in his attitude.

Mikey's tail spikes raise. The scales on his shoulders lift and curl into quills.

Donnie's goggles sight something in the distance as well, and he grips his tech-bō.

"Be on alert, there's something up ahead..."

Mikey starts to growl.

"What--"

The group are suddenly ambushed as a series of pink and purple people start charging them, climbing from the trash and rubble and rusty metal, roaring and snarling. Their bodies are covered in eyes, globs of putrid flesh and veins, claws that protrude at odd angles, spines and extra arms and faces where they shouldn't belong.

"AGH! Krang zombies!" Donnie screams.

Mikey roars back at the creatures and leaps off of Leo's shoulders at them --

Only to be caught midair by Raph, who grips him tightly and pulls him back.

"RUN!" he shouts loudly.

The team runs away from the horde, seeking whatever shelter they can get. Another group of krangified zombies start running from around a mountain of crushed-up cars, herding them towards the very back of the landfill.

"This way!" Donnie yells, leading them to a small building that Repo-Mantis works out of, trying to open the door. "It's locked!"

Raph creates a giant fist and punches the door down, revealing a cowering Repo-Mantis from the inside.

"Ack!! What're you doing here?!" the mutant bug man yells, jumping away from them. "What the heck is that thing with you?! It's not one of them, is it??"

"Donnie, get the door!" Raph bellows, ignoring the frightened villain and carrying Mikey over to another area of the room and setting him down. "Mikey, you stay here!"

Repo-Mantis stares at the double-mutated freak in fear, slowly scooting away.

"How long have they been here?!" April shouts as she helps to board up the windows, while Donnie creates a special ninpo door that bolts into the framework of the building.

"Three days!" Repo-Mantis sobs. "I've run out of onion rings and pork rinds!"

"You've been holed up for three days?!" Leo yells. "How are we supposed to get out of here?!"

"Why not use your portal swords?" April points out.

"Take me with you!" Repo-Mantis weeps, crawling on his hands and knees as he begs the heroes. "Please! I need to use an actual bathroom so badly!"

"Okay, ew."

"We can't just leave these guys here!" Raph rebukes. "We gotta take care of the horde, or else they'll just go after other innocent people!"

"Right, okay, so if I can make a quick portal to the lair -- April, Cass, you go get the formula and --"

The door shakes. The walls pound loudly, drowning out anything Leo says. The ceiling starts to cave in.

"Here they come!!" April screams.

Raphael stretches his arms out and backs everyone away from the door. One last stand...

The door holds. But the walls and windows do not. The monsters crash through, growling and howling as they all burst into the shabby shack.

Mikey unexpectedly scurries underneath Raph's legs and approaches the zombies. He roars at them, his scutes, scales, spines, and quills raised high and sharp, his talons extended and his fangs to their full length as he snaps and snarls at them.

"Mikey!" Raph yells.

Suddenly, he's back in the hall, and Mikey is about to fight an army of mutant, mangled animals, and turn into something terrifying that he should never have been forced to become...

"No! Not again!"

Mikey roars loudly at the krangified, and the horde freezes...

They stop.

They stare blankly at Mikey, who stands in between them and his family. He clicks angrily at them, his tail cracks like a whip. The horde slowly backs away. Mikey moves forwards, pushing the zombies back and out of the broken down hut they were invading. One of the bigger krangified zombies staggers forwards, growling at him, barking in defiance. Mikey roars in response.

Raph, Donnie, Leo, April, and Cassandra stumble outside to watch this strange altercation. Each member of the team dazed and confused as they watch Mikey. Repo-Mantis just runs the heck away while he still can.

The larger zombie rushes Michelangelo, who is more than ready for him. He swipes his tail under his legs, knocking him down instantly. His tail grabs the zombie and whips him around, throwing him into a pile of metal with a loud crash. The creature staggers and whimpers as it embarrassedly limps to the back of the horde...

Mikey howls at them again, and the krangified stand at attention, cowering under his gaze. Mikey's throat makes a deep and guttural clicking, a warning for them to stay in line or else.

"What... what is he doing...?" Leo asks, voice barely a whisper.

"It... it looks like an animalistic intimidation stance," Donnie responds, just as thunderstruck as his twin.

Mikey snarls at the horde, and they cease their offensive stances, slowly sitting or laying down on the ground at Mikey's command.

Mikey sits down as well, his scutes and scales lowering as he calms.

He turns his head, smiling brightly at his brothers. His tail wags with pride at a job well done.

"Mikey do good?"

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