#there are so many drawings like these in storage right now but this is the first one I've liked enough to post

[whatisamildopinion]

god help me I've finally found a wing design I like. it only took me months. anyway y'all have some aasimar Riz because my au is eating my brain whole!

[mufos-photo-album]

Sum Mufo lore below the cut vvv

My character playlist page for Mufo is coming along, though one big roadblock is that it needs background art! I've talked before about how I wanted to draw Mufo's home base someday, and I think just drawing a small portion of it for some background art would be a nice place to start. One thing I struggle with when it comes to backgrounds though, especially character-based ones, is making them feel lived in. Backgrounds I've drawn in the past often felt too clean to me, like no one is living there! Unfortunately I don't have the time right now to slap down some sketches to flesh out Mufo's room, but I can write about it to reference later, so here we go!

Mufo lives in the Vault of Knowledge, more specifically inside what can be thought of as a "storage closet". These storage areas resemble larger areas of the Vault, but are mainly used to store menial things like cleaning supplies, spells, and personal belongings. Mufo has part of a storage closet all to herself.

Her room is basically like an indoor tent. The "walls" are actually just pieces of cloth. It's convenient since she can enter and exit her room at any location, though at this point she has dedicated "door spots" — specific spots she decides she is allowed to walk through. Anything that isn't a door spot she treats as if its a regular wall and thus not normally walk through.

In terms of solid furniture (like, heavy stuff), Mufo might not have much. At the moment I definitely imagine she has a bed and maybe one or two bookshelves. Maybe she has a chair in there, to go with the shelves? Other furniture she has is mainly pillows and blankets, strewn across the floor so that many places in her room are comfy.

Currently debating if Mufo decorates at all. Like the stuff I listed before is mainly functional in nature. Maybe younger Mufo wouldn't have cared about decorating, but present day Mufo does since she has finally seen the outside world for herself and is insanely inspired. With that in mind, I gotta think about what Mufo decorates with. I definitely think if you showed Mufo some fairy lights it'd be OVER for her.

This might be one for the decoration category, but maybe Mufo keeps souvenirs from her journeys if she can pocket them.

Her room almost definitely has some memory lanterns and books lying around. This would have been especially true when she was younger (like the drawing above!), where such things were her only form of solitary entertainment. As she got older, she became better about returning memory lanterns and books to their rightful place in the Vault (though not all the time, hehe).

At the moment I don't imagine Piripu has a home, but if he were to crash anywhere, it'd be at Mufo's place. He probably does it often. With that in mind, Mufo's belongings probably got pushed around with Piripu becoming a pseudo-resident. Fortunately, he is a boy of few belongings... For now?

[kneelingshadowsalome]

König is, obviously, a big little freak. Do you think he'd feel flattered/lovestruck if a cute girl stalked and was obsessed with him or would he be weirded out? I think the first: for once he gets pussy and love without having to do anything. Also it'd be kinda funny if he didn't even notice his little admirer at first cause she doesn't register as a threat and he's too busy being broody and depressed cause he's so alone (while reader is in her apartment fantasizing about their future kids and drawing little hearts on a pic of him)

Ohhh yes. König being oblivious af, thinks this is simply a joke.

It started out in school: cute little postcards that had bunnies or kittens or flowers or hearts on them, delivered to him by his mom who was smirking about how her boy had a secret admirer. There was nothing fancy scribbled on the other side, just soft, silly messages like: "I like you!" or "Your cute" or "Luv u ♡", and König saved them all.

…Until he showed the postcards to the wrong “friends”, who only made fun of them. One of the boys told him they sent those cards to him as a joke because no girl could ever want him, and König believed them. Allowed himself one, maybe two tears in solitude before he threw those cards away.

What was odd, though, was that the cards still kept coming. He always threw them in the trash, and at some point while growing up, they stopped arriving. No cats or hearts or cute mice illustrations for him anymore, just loads of video games and internet and a growing interest in war history and gym.

He didn’t think much of it after the age of 17, just went to the army to make a man out of himself. Got laid for the first time, got bullied some more, grew some muscle and grew some balls. Got kicked out of sniper training, his one and only dream, and went back home to brood for a few weeks.

That’s when he received the letter.

A 5 page love letter, written in beautiful, whimsical handwriting, smelling of something so angelic that it drove even the eternal stench of gunpowder and rust and military storage away.

König gets plunged into a whole world of soft feminine attention without even asking to, the letter now placed on his old desk that’s too small for him to sit at anymore. The fragrant sheets of paper are filled with confessions of adoration and love and… it would be a little bit creepy, were he a man who fancied so-called normal women.

He goes to the attic, searching his old cardboard boxes for the postcards to compare the handwriting, but can’t find none, remembering that yeah… he threw all of them away, didn’t he? The handwriting wouldn’t match anyway, that much he can remember, but then again it was a kid who wrote to him back then. Now, his admirer is a grown woman who apparently got back on her obsession train once he visited his childhood home after years of living abroad.

The hair on his shins, arms and at the back of his neck shoots up as he realizes some woman has a crush on him, some cute girl has been watching him since day one. Those postcards weren’t a joke, so she must have gone to the same school as him… She might be the daughter of some of their neighbors, living right next to him even now.

König goes door to door in search of her, but only wrinkly elders arrive to tell him that no, they never had a daughter or granddaughter or if they had, they have long since moved out to some big city.

He goes through the letter once again but finds no clues to who she is or where she lives. It’s just pages and pages of flattery about how he’s still the man of her dreams and so much more. How he’s even cuter now that he looks like someone pissed in his cereal. She wonders if he’s built the same everywhere, and if he is, then she should say her evening prayers… Too many impure thoughts going through her head already, why does he have to be so handsome?

König is in hell, as always, desperately trying to look for his admirer when he goes out to take the trash. Visions of some girl touching herself at the thoughts of him pester him from sunrise to sunset, and he has to take a cold shower every morning simply because one wank doesn’t seem to be enough to tame the big fellow downstairs.

He hugs his pillow and dreams of his girl, someone sweet to wrap his arms around and to protect. He fantasizes of someone cute waiting for him, someone he could surprise every time he gets home, someone adorable to eat out until they sob and squirm. Until he gets the stench of death out of his mouth…

A message arrives on his phone from an unknown number, and at first he thinks it’s spam.

But when he opens the message, he’s met with two perfect bare breasts. So fucking cute, especially when they’re accompanied by a set of fingertips grazing her soft skin; König even notices she has red nail polish on. So adorably, incredibly cute…

There comes a text that says: “I thought of sending you another postcard, big boy… But perhaps you don't care for kittens anymore. Hopefully this will do? ❤️”

There’s no face reveal, just tits and a cute female hand laid out there before him. Just a text that confirms that she’s the one. Typing a quick reply, he sends it to the unknown number: “This will more than just do 😳❤️❤️❤️”

Without thinking, like, at all, he pulls out his already hard cock and takes a hurried picture of it with a trembling hand. He usually knows better than to send a dick pic to a girl, especially after exchanging less than two sentences with them. But hey, she started this. The least he can do is give her something to pray about (and for)..

So he sends that horrid picture of his ugly cock to his cute mystery girl before she can even type a reply to the first message, and asks: “Are we praying tonight, my lady?”

[mana-is-lost]

Back with more little things I noticed

I was gone to the Caribbean for a week or so, and I didn't check Tumblr until yesterday. As a result, I jumped back into Finding Frankie and decided to share more little things I saw. (Many of these are just cute details that I like and hope you like them too)

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Turns out there may have been 4 characters around the park instead of the 3 we know now (Frankie, Henry, and Deputy Duck)

It turns out there ARE cameras in the vents, but killing us there would be too anti-climatic.

"real Frankie" keeps child drawings in the camera room, I wonder why...

no parkour on the main loby

This wall is a two-way mirror for some reason?

Partners in crime? partners in crime

Chibi Frankie in a car at deputy duck's section. there's a couple of toy versions of this guy in some storage rooms.

Cute poster of Frankie cleaning

This is the ONLY time this specific cutout can be seen. no other copies of this one that I can find.

can anyone read what it says on the wall right under "time out room"? I'm so curious but cant see any

So we all agree that the contestant survived thanks to the rails, right? like, they are right there.

do yall think this place was made only for the possible winner when the show was created? or maybe this was the exit of the park?

The contestant slept in a mattress on the floor of their apartment…

and thats that for now, see ya next time!

[moonstruckme]

Hi!! I just recently discovered your blog and I’m in love with your Spencer fic’s. :)) Could you perchance write one where reader is sick and Spencer takes care of her??

Hi lovely, thanks for requesting <3

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 792 words

“I’m fine,” you croak. 

“You’re not fine,” says Spencer, stirring honey into your tea. “You let this go too long without resting, and now it’s bad.” 

You inhale, looking like you’re going to disagree, but a coughing fit supersedes you. The force of it bends you over, and Spencer rubs your back, wincing. You sound like you’re hacking up a lung.

“Okay,” you say once you can, still coughing weakly. “You’re right, I’m dying.” 

“You’re not dying either.” A smile tugs at his lips. “You just need to rest. Is anything bothering you, other than your throat?” 

You shake your head. 

Spencer eyes you skeptically, passing over your tea. You’re infamous for this sort of downplaying. You’d been so good at covering up that you were feeling sick that even your FBI profiler boyfriend hadn’t been able to spot it until a couple of days ago, and even then you’d managed to convince him it was mild enough to go to work until he’d heard you coughing in the shower this morning. Spencer still isn’t sure if, when he’d come home today to find you flushed and miserable in the bed, you’d gotten worse or only stopped hiding it. 

 “Really, nothing?” he asks. “You don’t have any other symptoms?” 

You shrug. “Just other normal sick stuff.” 

“Tell me about them. How do you feel?” 

You frown, blowing on your tea. “Hot and dry. I feel like my entire body needs chapstick. And I’m tired, I guess.” 

Spencer frowns. He brushes a piece of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers stoke down your overwarm cheek. “You look terrible,” he says. 

You snort. Your cough latches onto it as an opportunity, and you launch into another fit. “Ow,” you wheeze, putting a hand to your chest. “Thanks, you’re really—really wooing me, Spence.” 

“No, I’m sorry,” he laughs, somewhat nervously. “I just meant that you look so sad, honey. I don’t like seeing you so sick.” 

“Me neither,” you admit. You take a scratchy breath in, deep as you can without it catching. You look like you’re savoring it. 

He feels his eyebrows draw together compassionately. “You should try to sleep.” 

“It’s barely six. I don’t want to sleep.” 

“You don't have to wait until it’s late to go to sleep. It might make you feel better.” 

“I know, I just…I don’t want to.” 

Spencer looks at you for a while, thinking of what to do with you. Your tea is still too hot to drink. He’d bought you cough drops on his way home, but you’d already had so many throughout the day that now you say they’re making your mouth feel sore and raw, and you don’t want to take them if you can help it. Maybe he could have you gargle saltwater…

“You should stay at your place tonight,” you tell him gently. “I don’t want to get you sick.” 

He knew you would say that. He’s practically moved into your apartment, though he keeps his basically as a storage unit at this point. Whereas Spencer has filled his apartment with enough things for one person (one towel hook in the bathroom, one nightstand, only one really good pillow on the bed), your apartment looks like you’ve always assumed you’d eventually share it. The first time Spencer came over, you already had fuzzy socks for guests, enough towels for an army, and two really, really great pillows on the bed. It made him realize that his apartment was really just a place to sleep; yours was a home. He never wants to leave, but certainly not while you’re like this.

“I won’t get sick,” he lies. (He definitely will. He’s already been exposed to you for days already and his immune system has never had his back.) “And anyway, how will I teach you chess from my apartment?” 

You groan. 

“This is really the best time,” Spencer says, going into the living room to grab the chess board you’d let him keep here. “You’ll never have more free time than when you’re sick. And this way, you won’t get bored.” 

“Sure about that?” you ask wryly as he comes back in, but you’re smiling. 

“Unless you want to try to sleep?” 

You look like you’re actually considering it. “When I was little and I got sick, I used to play mad libs.” 

Spencer feels his face screw up. “I don’t really like that game. They never make any sense at the end.” 

“That’s the point,” you laugh. A weak cough follows it. “Anyway, I’m sick. I promise I’ll let you teach me to play chess soon.” 

“You’re sick,” he allows, setting the chess board on the floor. Not that you don’t get what you want the rest of the time anyway.

[fray]

hi!! it's me again, i'm fray, a black nb trans masc artist and i just started my transition 6 months ago, i was really happy to start that! but again i need help with some things because everything else has just been getting worse.

we're looking for a place to live still currently and we have to be out of where we've lived for like 4 years this week because they want to ''''sell the place'''' ie they want to kick us out since we've been having trouble with payments. we have no place set in stone at all yet so we need money to move things to a storage unit or something. just anything at all will hope.

i'm sorry i haven't really been drawing much lately other than really self indulgent stuff, every things just been so terrible that i've just been focusing on just stuff that makes me happy instead of all the awful things that have been happening for the past months. again if my art has ever meant anything to you at all please help. i'm sorry i've been asking for help so many times but we really don't have a lot of options. my mother has been too unwell to work and what i make is very little on top of my own health issues i've been having.

my birthday is this month and all i'd really like is for things to get at least a little better and to have a little less shit to worry about 😭

my mothers c4shapp is $KrystinePage

anything helps and if you can't (i know everything right now sucks for everybody) reblogs are really appreciated. thank you so much for looking!!

[onlyhereforthestories]

No Hay Distancia (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

A fic for you all finally. I'm sorry it's taken so long! It is slightly different to how I normally write so I hope it is okay!

The sun had dipped low on the horizon as a warm, golden glow bathed the city of Barcelona from your place on the balcony. It was a beautiful evening, and for you, it marked the beginning of a new chapter in your life. You had just moved to this vibrant Spanish city from Seattle, leaving behind your time at OL Reign and starting your new one with FC Barcelona Femení. The change had been exhilarating and intimidating, but the one thing that made all the change worthwhile was the anticipation of finally being with the love of your life, Alexia Putellas.

You and Alexia had met three years ago; your connection was ignited by your shared passion for football. Alexia's mesmerizing skills on the field had drawn you to her instantly and had you almost tripping over your own feet mid-match at the beauty she held. Despite living miles apart, you had managed to build a strong and steady bond. It had been a long-distance relationship full of late-night calls, text messages, and fleeting visits whenever either of your busy schedules allowed. You were another world away, playing as part of the OL Reign team, while she was at her home club of Barcelona, and the time difference often felt like a cruel challenge. Not anymore, though.

The evening was drawing to a close, and you had yet to even start to unpack the many suitcases you had with you, not sure where your belongings belonged in your now shared home. Not only did you have what you had brought on the plane with you, but you also had some storage things coming via courier soon. Something you might not have told Alexia about just yet. Your excitement was building as you started on the first case, although unpacking a case was hard to do when a small dog kept jumping in it. You knew the drawing in of the evening meant that Alexia would be finished with training soon and therefore should be coming home for the first official time to your shared home. You kept glancing at your phone, waiting for Alexia to finish her training session, a session you would be joining soon enough. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

Finally, your phone buzzed with a message from Alexia: "Buenas tardes, mi amor. I'm on my way home now. I really can't wait to see you!" You couldn't help the smile and massive bubble of excitement that surged through you at reading that simple message. You had to read the "on my way home" part a couple of times to believe this was your reality.

When you heard the distinct sound of a key scratching into a lock, you practically sprinted to meet her at the door, Nala hot on your heels almost as excited as you were for the woman’s arrival. There she was, Alexia, with her signature smile that could melt anyone's heart but especially yours. Her eyes sparkled with joy as she pulled you into a tight hug. It felt like more than a dream; it felt like a moment you had been waiting for years for was finally happening.

"¡Te extrañé tanto, mi amor!" Alexia whispered, her voice laced with genuine emotion, and you could feel the slight lump in her throat that she swallowed down as she spoke.

"I missed you too, Lex," you replied, tears welling up in your eyes from the memories of saying that countless times over FaceTime or the phone rather than in person. Not only were those tears for that, but they were also for the fact that you wouldn't have to say it that way or as often anymore.

You cherished every second you had right then, soaking her in. This moment felt like your life was finally getting started after being on hold for the few years you had been apart. Your heart ached thinking about the lonely nights you had endured, the longing you had felt when Alexia was on the other side of the world. But now, it was all worth it. The physical proximity made your love feel stronger than ever, making the time spent apart worthwhile.

Over the next few weeks, you explored your new home with Alexia by your side as your very excitable tour guide. You visited famous landmarks, indulged in delicious Spanish cuisine, and shared countless tender moments that you had been waiting to share consistently together for ages. The days of counting the time difference to see what hour of the day your other half was in seemed like a distant memory something you were beyond grateful for.

One evening, after a particularly gruelling training session, Alexia collapses onto the couch completely exhausted. You can't help but smile as you watch her, her passion and dedication to her sport unwavering even on training days.

"Rough day at the office?" You tease knowing full well what her day has been like, yours equally as hard. Although due to you being a defender and her being an attacker, the days of training had been slightly different for each of you.

Alexia chuckles, her voice tinged with fatigue. "You have no idea.” The statement was accompanied by a smirk and a wink one that had you stifling a giggle at her antics. “But it's all worth it when I get to come home with you." The statement has a blush taking over your whole face.

You join her on the couch, snuggling up to her. "I'm proud of you, Lex. You're amazing."

Alexia leans in for a sweet, tender kiss, her lips soft and warm against yours. "And I'm proud of you too. You've adapted to this new life so well."

You smile, feeling a surge of happiness. "It's easy when I have you by my side."

The two of you sat there for a while before you pushed up off her and got to your feet. When you looked back at the woman on the sofa you chuckled at the pout, she was sending your way. “Stop that, someone needs to make dinner and seeing as you almost fell asleep two seconds ago, I think it's going to have to be me.” You sent her a wink before heading to the kitchen.

About 30 minutes later you had plated up the simple chicken and pasta dish into two bowls and wandered back into the living space to give Alexia her bowl. When you walked around the couch you couldn’t help the smile that instantly spread across your face at the sight of the woman sleeping with Nala curled up in the space in front of her chest.

You placed the bowls on the coffee table and gently ran your fingers through the older woman’s hair trying to stir her slowly and gently from her slumber. When that didn’t work and she just sighed contently, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to her hairline brushing a few soft kisses there as you spoke gently but not too quietly. “Come on mi amor time to wake up, you need to eat before we can go to bed properly.”

Alexia's eyes blinked up at you a few times as she slowly came back to the land of the awake. Her legs stretched out as her body shouted at her to get out of the cramped position, this action woke up the sleeping dog who shouted her distaste for being woken up with a sharp bark before leaping off the couch and trotting to her food bowl which you had placed her dinner in before serving your own.

By the time Alexia had sat up, you had both bowls back in your hands and ready to go, your stomach letting Alexia know how ready you were to eat with a rather loud rumble. As she grabbed her plate from you, she teased you the whole evening was very domestic and was one of the first evenings you thought about how far you had come to be here doing just this with the woman.

As the months continue to pass by, your connection with Alexia deepens. You share countless moments that strengthen your bond, from the simple pleasures of waking up together and preparing meals to playing alongside each other on the football pitch. Your love is evolving and growing stronger with each challenge you face and each triumph you achieve together.

Barcelona becomes more than just a city; it becomes your home. Its streets, its people, and its culture all contribute to the love that starts to bloom in your chest when thinking about the city. You explore hidden gems with the people around you, you savour the delicious Spanish cuisine both home-cooked and in restaurants, and you revel in the rich history that surrounds you. You were exploring one of these small gems when Alexia turned to you, her eyes filled with love. "I can't believe you're finally here with me," she said, her voice soft and full of emotion you never thought you would see from the normally strong, stoic woman, not outside of the home anyway.

You smile and take Alexia's hand in yours. "I couldn't be happier here. Being with you is all I ever wanted and I’m so glad we made it work and get to be here in the same place together."

Your lips meet in a sweet, lingering kiss, sealing your love in the city where your dreams have come true. No longer does distance stand between you, for now, you're together, and your love will only continue to grow stronger with each passing day.

As the weeks turned into months, you and Alexia settled more into your life together in Barcelona. You found your footing as a new star for the FC Barcelona women’s football team alongside your partner, making connections with your teammates and fitting in perfectly. The routines you and Alexia had created slowly made life in the sunny city run smoothly. If one cooked, the other washed up; if one hoovered, the other did the laundry, and so on. This solidified the decision you made to move thousands of miles away from your original home, making the wonderful connection between you even stronger.

Yet, like any relationship, challenges arose. The demands of your and Alexia's football careers and your joint busy schedules tested your commitment and your time together. The time difference between Barcelona and Seattle had once been a source of frustration, but new challenges required just as much resilience and understanding.

One evening, after a particularly tough practice, Alexia sank into the couch, her face etched with exhaustion. "I can't believe the season is already halfway over. I feel like I have been playing for a year straight already."

You sat down beside her, offering a comforting touch by bringing her into you and letting her rest against your body. "You are doing amazing, Lex. But it is okay to feel overwhelmed sometimes with all the added captain's stress you have going on. I am always here for you."

Alexia leaned into your embrace, her body relaxing against the support. "I know, but it is just so hard. Balancing everything—training, matches, the media, and us. I feel like I have been neglecting our time together because I have a promo deal to complete or do an interview for someone. I know we still get evenings, but I am just so exhausted when it comes to them, and I don’t feel like I’m giving you enough."

Understanding the weight of the responsibilities that came with Alexia's position, you reassured her, "You give me all you can at the time and that will always be okay with me. Any time I get with you is perfect and even when that time is limited or maybe even just snuggling up in bed together, it is still time with you. Not too long ago I was only getting to see your face on a screen and now I get to see it in person all the time. I get to fall asleep at the same time as you and wake up to you. So please don’t worry about us, okay? We have got this and will get through it together. I promise."

A few weeks after Alexias confessed to how she was struggling a bit with commitments and time together another hurdle was thrown your way. Your evening was meant to be spent together having a date night at a restaurant you have both been wanting to try but here you were sat with Alexia on the couch in comfy clothes instead, both of you mentally and physically drained from your respective commitments. "I know it's tough, Lex," you began, "but look at how far we've come. We've tackled challenges together before, and we'll do it again. Your dedication is incredible, and I'm so proud of everything you've achieved."

Alexia's tired eyes met yours, filled with gratitude, care and love. "And I'm proud of you, too. You've always been there for me, no matter what. I couldn't ask for a better partner in this journey."

In those moments, the challenges that once seemed insurmountable become stepping stones on your shared path. Your love remains a constant, a light that guides you through the most challenging times. You both know that no matter what the future holds, you have each other's backs, ready to face any obstacles together. The challenges may be different, but your love remains as strong as ever, a bond that continues to grow with every test it faces.

The season has come to a close and you aren’t far off completing your first year in Barcelona when you find yourself and Alexia on the rooftop of your apartment building, the city's lights stretching out before you like a sea of stars. You lean against the railing, taking in the breathtaking view, and Alexia joins you, wrapping her arms around your waist and resting her chin on your shoulder so she can look out too but keep you close.

"This city is incredible," you say, your voice filled with wonder.

"It is, but it's even better with you here," Alexia replies, turning her head slightly to press a small chaste kiss against the side of your neck. This prompts you to want more so you turn to face her, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. The warm night air and the city's enchanting lights create the perfect backdrop for your love to soar. As the kiss deepens, you can't help but marvel at how far you've come since your first meeting, how much you have both overcome to be here and together nonetheless.

The city's lights continue to twinkle below you, a testament to the vibrant life of Barcelona. As you stand there with Alexia, you can't help but think about how much your lives have changed since that first match, the one where you couldn't take your eyes off her mesmerizing skills and beauty. It's been an incredible journey, one filled with love, passion, challenges and unwavering support for each other.

You turn your attention back to the woman who had you wrapped up in her arms, a radiant smile on your face. "You know, I used to watch Barcelona's games on TV back in Seattle, dreaming about being here and playing with you. Now, it's all come true."

Alexia grins, her eyes shining with pride. "Dreams do come true, mi amor. I'm so glad you're living yours and that it matches perfectly with mine."

The night is still young, and the possibilities seem endless. With your hands entwined and resting on your stomach, you both look out at the city knowing that your life together was just beginning. You can’t help but feel grateful for the journey that has brought you to this moment here, for the love you get to experience and for Barcelona that has become the backdrop to the next chapter in your life. A life you know will be filled with love, football, and the promise of a future with the woman you have loved for a long time from afar.

[nohoney]

just a lil something that’s inspired from a lil something i did while at edc ☆ ～('▽^人)

warnings: rave bf! bakugou, lil bit of drug use (acid tripping and rolling -> taking ecstasy), exhibitionism (sorta), petting

bakugou looks around, inhaling deeply as he subtly adjusts the boner he has. he’s pretty certain that no one has noticed. there’s hundreds if not thousands of people walking the festival grounds with too many spectacles that he’s sure are grabbing their attention instead. fireworks from one spot, laser shows emitting from adjacent stages, the statues that spit fire—so so many things to look at.

and yet his eyes keep drawing to the strappy fit you’ve chosen to wear.

he’d never known about microkinis before until you held up the tiny top and panty before him. the patch of fabric meant to cover you is small, just enough to cover your nipples and show off the tasty bit of skin underneath your tits. he helped tie the straps into place for you at the hotel, feeling you up and hoping that he could convince you to have a quickie.

instead you guys had to rush out the hotel to start lining up for the shuttles.

it’s four in the morning and you’re now taking a break from the back to back sets from the artists you wanted to see for the night. you and bakugou relax in an area of light up trees and light up structures. when he looks into your eyes, he can see your pupils still a bit dilated wider than they’re supposed to be but your trip is pretty much easing off.

he’s sure that his eyes are the same too.

good thing you and him only took small hits of what mina offered; the two of you only wanted to trip a little on the acid she offered that was rolled up into the joint. it was fun to see you all woozy and dreamy as you watched your favorite artists at the stage they performed at or how in awe you were earlier when the fireworks show had gone off earlier in the night.

you and bakugou took it easy though to save enough reserves for tomorrow night, the very last day. you’ve got the little dime bag that has the pills and at one point you were tempted to take one to further enhance the night. luckily bakugou was able to convince you to hold off.

“for tomorrow, okay baby? remember who we’re seeing tomorrow.”

“mmkay, you’re right.”

you and him sit against a light up structure, other people relaxing in the area as well. bakugou takes off his hydropack so that he can sit back comfortably. he unzips the storage compartment and brings out your pashmina to cover you up. you cozy up, laying back against him and not having any comments when bakugou lays the pashmina over your lap.

“this was soooo fun katsuki… i think it was the right idea for us to take it easy tonight.” you comment, sliding his hands underneath the pashmina so that they rested on your tummy, “you look out for me.”

“of course i do, didn’t want you to run yourself raggedy before you even got to see your favorite.” bakugou hums, drumming his fingers a little against your stomach and seeing the movement beneath the pashmina. he’s still tripping a little because the sight of it looks funny.

you nod your head against him, sighing quietly and relaxing against him.

bakugou doesn’t shut his eyes, only just idly looking over the sights in front of him like the crowds that still walk or the light shows that can be seen from where he’s sitting at. there are other people in the area that resting, getting massages from their friends, and just relishing in whatever mood they seem to be in.

his hands are warm on your stomach, his thumb brushing over your belly button and making you giggle. you pull your legs up a little closer to you so that you can cover the pashmina over your knees as well before relaxing against bakugou again. your lower half is completely covered from the pashmina as you cozy up and relax. his fingers pluck a little at the red straps that he helped cross around your body. out of all the rave outfits you’ve worn in front of him, this one is his all time favorite.

he’s been so painfully hard the entire night because of your fit, needing to adjust discretely every so often.

and you fucking knew that he liked it too because occasionally when you were sure no one was looking, you’d ghost your palm over his erection. he’d look at you and you’d flash him a coy smile, you looking extra doe eyed with the acid in your system and just a bit more giggly. worst was when he stood behind you for one set with kirishima and mina, you sung your little heart out with them and they were none the wiser to one of your hands discreetly rubbing over his boner.

if he had less control, bakugou would have cum in his shorts from the dirty secret that your friends were too fucked up to notice.

so he decides to return the favor.

your body tenses when you feel bakugou’s hands slide lower beneath the pashmina, his fingers skimming past the edge of the tiny bikini bottom and the pad of his fingers pressing right where your clit is. he leans down to your ear and hums a little before muttering, “i like this one, it’s my favorite.”

“i know, chose it ‘cause i knew you’d love it.” you mutter back before your eyes look over the people that are relaxing in the area. other people’s eyes are glossing over as well but no eyes are staring at you in particular.

still, you can’t help but feel that there must be someone that knows that your boyfriend’s fingers are touching you beneath the pashmina.

bakugou is good with his hands, he’s shown it by making you cum from just playing with your clit alone. he applies the right pressure, petting you and kissing your temple that makes you want to whimper. your boyfriend is the best at rough sex but when he’s actually gentle and endearing, it stirs you up more than usual.

your pussy reacts to his touch, the remaining acid in your body still making you a touch more sensitive, and you’re a bit shamed that a wet patch is forming in between your legs. “made me so fuckin’ happy to see you enjoy yourself. you know how pretty you looked when the fireworks were going off earlier?” bakugou mutters against your temple, “you make me so goddamn happy.”

his words are sweet but his touch is making you come undone. you breathe deeply to try to maintain some composure, your mouth dropping occasionally and you let out a quiet sigh. again, you look over to see if anyone has caught on to what the two of you are doing but no one has paid any mind.

they’re all off in their own world.

“so fuckin’ pretty, my baby is so pretty.” bakugou tells you more, his voice dripping with a sentiment that you hear only inside the bedroom. images of your last lovemaking flash in your head, making your mind swim in a euphoric sea of love. you love how he sounds when you’re sucking him off leisurely, how he seems to be weaker for your blowjobs when the two of you take your time and take it slow. all the fucks you and bakugou during the trip were all done in desperation and haste, enough to get it out your system and be presentable enough in front of your friends.

you’re dying for a passionate, slow fuck with your boyfriend.

you hastily grab onto his hand and press it against your stomach, whimpering slightly and hoping that you’re maintaining a straight face. bakugou presses a kiss to your cheek and whispers in your ear, “did i make you cum?”

he’s answered with a stiff nod.

bakugou’s eyes briefly glance up to the sky, recognizing the light orange coming from the hills. the sun is about to rise and now there’s only one more day to attend. one more outfit to help you into, two more pills to take for when both of your favorite artist plays for the final day of the festival, and then one plane ride home to collapse and have a proper rest after the most sleep deprived weekend you’ve ever had.

“c’mon, let’s get back to the shuttles and back to our room.”

bakugou gives you the hydro pack to wear on your back instead, opting to piggy you back across the festival grounds and to the shuttle pick up. you tied the pashmina around your waist for some modesty before hopping onto his back, clinging onto him like a sloth and whimpering small sounds as he made the trek across the festival grounds.

“you’re so bad katsuki.” you whisper in his ear, “how dare you.”

he only chuckles, hoisting you up a little to readjust you on his back for better leverage and continues on, seeing kirishima and mina waiting for them by the shuttle pick up.

“one more day baby, alright? that’s when we can go all out.”

“mm-hmm, ‘m excited.” you yawn, smiling over the hidden pills you and your boyfriend will consume in another fifteen hours when you return for the very last day of the festival.

[goodlucktai]

17 with rise b-team?

dialogue prompts

17. “How many fingers am I holding up? ... I don't have six fingers.” 

x

“Ohmigosh!” Mikey scrambles down the fire escape with half of his usual grace—which is to say, not much—and lands with a clumsy splash next to Donnie’s boneless sprawl. “Donald, you hit the ground so hard pops probably heard it at home. Are you okay?”

Donnie makes a noise that just sounds like eeuuugrrgghheeuugh. Rainwater is seeping into him from all sides thanks to the puddle he landed in. Normally, he would be making this everyone’s problem by now. The fact that he’s just kind of laying there like he’s given up on life is really worth freaking out about. 

Worried, Mikey tugs frantically at the shoulder of Donnie’s jacket until he opens his eyes, then demands, “How many fingers am I holding up?” 

Squinting at him, Donatello thinks about it for a moment, then announces, “Six.”

“I don’t have six fingers!” Mikey shrieks, the peace sign he’s still holding up an inappropriately cheerful gesture for the current situation. 

His big brother scrambles upright at that, his wooden expression falling away and sheer panic flashing across his face instead. 

“What in Lovelace’s name do you mean you don’t have—”

Mikey lifts his left hand in its bright yellow short arm cast. They both look at it, and then Donnie puts his face in his hand without speaking in a way that manages to speak volumes. 

“You’re the one who told me to pretend like my broken hand wasn’t even there!” Mikey says defensively.

“Yes, because Nardo will hunt me for sport if you make that break any worse while I’m directly responsible for you.”

Drawing himself up to his full height, which isn’t remarkable on a good day and even less-so when he’s kneeling in the rainy mush of a Brooklyn alleyway, Mikey grits out, “I’m not a baby. I don’t need supervision.”

“Counterpoint, you are a baby and you do need supervision,” Donatello says dryly, heaving himself up off the ground. The battle shell absorbed the brunt of the impact, designed to protect his spine in pretty much every conceivable scenario, but he still looks like he feels pretty sore after that dramatic fall. He puts his hand out for Mikey to take, but Mikey sulks at him and ignores it. “Michael, I just watched you do a handspring off the railing of a sixth-story fire escape. 

“Yeah and it was sick.” 

Or it would have been, if not for the rusted joints that gave beneath roughly one hundred and fifty pounds of ninja turtle. Donnie’s last-minute save was sick as hell, though. 

He didn’t think twice before grabbing Mikey and hauling him onto the safety of the solid rooftop, using himself as a counterweight to pull it off. He wasn’t wearing the battleshell that could fly or turn into spiderlegs, because they were doing a junkyard run and he wanted the one with extra storage space instead. He knew he’d fall, he’s too smart not to have run all those calculations in the split-second he had, but he didn’t miss a beat. 

Mikey doesn’t like that Don almost got hurt helping him. It sours his righteous annoyance a little. And it also lessens his argument by a lot. 

“There are four of us, which divides neatly into two halves of two,” Donatello says patiently. “Two of us who are older, and two of us who are younger. You are firmly in the younger half. If it makes you feel any better, our fearless leader is, too. Why do you think Raph refuses to let him out of his sight while his leg is in that brace? You’re both the babies.”

“Bet you wouldn’t say that to his face,” Mikey mutters, but it does make him feel better, so he lets Donnie haul him to his feet. 

And Donnie was right about more than that, because the second they meet up with Raph and Leo, Leonardo demands, “Miguelito, what did you do?”

As one, Donnie and Mikey look down at his cast—which, okay, which has a thin crack down the middle. Presumably from when Mikey landed on the roof after Donnie’s Hail Mary throw. How did Leo even see it from way over there? 

Donnie starts to look hunted even before Leo whirls on him and says, “You had one job, Tello—make sure his razz stayed un-tazzed!” 

“That is easily a three-turtle operation and there is only one of me!”

Since the twins can go on for ages once they really get started, Mikey drifts over to Raph, offering his biggest brother his best smile. Raph smiles back like a knee-jerk reaction, reaching over to rub Mikey’s head affectionately.

“Have fun, big man?”

“Yep!” Mikey says sweetly. “Donnie will probably tell you some crazy story about acrobatics on a rooftop, but you know how he likes to exaggerate when Leo eggs him on. We had a totally lowkey junk run. Can we get Crazyshakes on the way home?”

Raphie’s not stupid, but he has three very significant blind spots, and they’re all little-brother-shaped. He softens completely and lifts Mikey up to sit in place of pride on his shoulders, tall enough to see all of Manhattan. Then he passes up his phone, even though Mikey totally would have ordered the shakes on his!

He’ll never not complain about being one of the babies, but he has to admit—just to himself, in secret—that there are definitely some perks. 

“Make sure you get that shortcake one for Leon,” Raphie says offhandedly. “He’s been on a strawberry kick recently.”

Part of Mikey wants to roll his eyes at this additional bit of proof that Donnie is constantly right about everything. The much larger part of him just feels warm and sweet and cared for.

He wraps his arm around Raph’s head and squeezes, as much of a hug as he can manage with the phone in one hand and the other in a cast, and adds all four of their favorites to the order. The twins’ argument bounces off the alley walls around them, both of them on the verge of laughter by now and trying not to be the one who breaks first.

Mikey normally isn’t very fond of rainy days, but this one he wouldn’t mind living in. 

[rrrrinmaru]

picasso (marius x fem!reader) (nsfw)

wc: 5.7k rating: E warnings: nsfw, vaginal fingering, handjob, squirting, they're both freaks for each other

“I think it’s pretty,” you say plainly. “I like the look of it. I’ve always had a soft spot for ink wash works.”

The exhibit is held in a famous glass museum in downtown Stellis. There had been a controversy about the full glass walls and privacy issues a few years ago (you had read this case once, out of curiosity, and never again), but that was eventually resolved and now the first floor of the museum was regularly used for art exhibits. 

Before you knew Marius’ secret identity, you had invited him to visit one of Z’s exhibits. And Marius, the most shameless man to ever walk this Earth, had agreed. 

Fortunately, you learnt about this secret before you bought tickets for the exhibit. Not that you wouldn’t want to see his works displayed in the gallery, but the thought of you gushing over Z’s artwork in front of Marius without knowing the truth… 

It’s embarrassing. 

Today, however, it’s a different artist’s work on display. Thomas Mikeden, a foreign painter who’s been going on an exhibit world tour. Stellis is his latest stop, and everything just lined up. Both of you had the day off and tickets were on sale. You had invited Marius to the exhibit, excited to hear his artistic insight about the paintings, but Marius has been… a little petulant.

“I can’t believe we’re looking at a Mikeden painting,” he mutters, arms folded across his chest. “The first time you invite me to an art exhibit and it isn’t even mine; I can overlook that, but Mikeden?”

“What do you have against him?”

“We’re friends,” Marius says solemnly, looking like he doesn’t even believe the words coming out his mouth, “but we suffer from creative differences. Severe creative differences. If I ever have to see the way he mixes his oil paints again, I’d end up on the news for criminal activity. And he said if he ever had to see me try to sculpt a pot again, he’d wring my neck himself. He said my clay pots were an abomination against God.”

You blink at him. “You know how to do pottery?”

“According to him, I don’t.”

And suddenly, you get it. Creative differences, more like a bunch of children arguing over who does something right, or who does something better. Like kindergarteners fighting over whose parent made them the better lunchbox. 

“What are your thoughts on his ink wash painting?” 

Marius gives you an appraising look. “Not his worst work. He’s alright with ink wash. I've personally dabbled in ink wash before. It’s not my preferred medium, but we learnt it as part of our curriculum.”

You turn to look at him, eyes bright. “Really? Do you still have those ink wash paintings hidden away somewhere?”

“Of course. I never throw my works away. I’ll bring you to one of my storage warehouses one day.” 

One of his storage warehouses? It never occurred to you that painters would need a lot of space to store their paintings, even more so if they were particularly diligent and practiced different painting techniques often. With how many easels and canvases were strewn about Marius’ house, you suppose you should have made the connection.

“I’m looking forward to it.” 

The next few works are insightful, to say the least. Marius gets up close and personal with one of them to sneakily point out to you a place where Mikeden allegedly made a mistake and had spent hours trying to cover it up. 

“This is from when he tried to lean into the Baroque style,” Marius says, using his thumb to frame certain parts of the painting to draw your eye to them. “The colors here, see, the stark contrast between the light and the dark? That’s the use of tenebrism, popularised by Caravaggio.”

“Hm,” you note, eyes wandering around the painting. It’s a stunning piece of work, and Mikeden captured the likeness of the male form well. The extreme contrast almost seems to frame the figures with a halo, a light that blooms from their very center to strike at the viewer’s attention. “They’re quite handsome.”

Marius makes a sound at the back of his throat. “You’re more into modern men, jiejie.”

You hide your laugh behind a cough. He’s like a needy kitten pawing at you for attention, and you’re helpless against someone this cute. 

“Yes, yes, look at how handsome you are,” you say, turning around to face him head-on. You reach out, smoothing the non-existent creases away from his button-down. 

Without really thinking too deeply, your fingers linger on the stretch of the fabric across his chest—the thought that you can see them if you squint hard enough comes unbidden to your mind. The small bumps under the fabric, stiff from the slight chill of the room. 

It’s the kind of thought that grips you by the throat, sitting in your mind and taking up space, holding you captive until you do something about it. 

You brush your thumb against one of them, just because they’re right there, because you can, because Marius’ hands are on your hips and you’re feeling a little… playful. 

Immediately, a hand catches your wrist. It doesn’t stop you from pressing the pad of your thumb lightly against that raised bump, and Marius’ breath hitches. His fingers flex against your wrist, hard enough that you can’t help but smile. 

He’s usually the one making you flush in public, so you mark this as a victory. The sight of him, red-faced and pouting, heart pounding so desperately you can feel it through his chest—you pull your hand back, and he lets you go. That hand drops back to your waist as you bring your thumb to your lips, and you hold Marius’ gaze as the tip of your tongue darts out to lick your thumb.

Marius goes still. It’s as if he’s nothing more than one of the paintings hung up on the gallery walls, with how still he is; his pupils are blown wide and he gives you this shaken look, as if you’ve completely disarmed him. Swept him off his feet and left him grasping at straws to find the words to say. 

Eventually, you go back to smoothing out his shirt. Properly, this time. No messing around.

“You’re driving me crazy,” Marius murmurs, his breath puffing against the curve of your throat as he leans down. His voice is soft, barely louder than a whisper, but it somehow feels deafening in the quiet of the room. 

Your hands tighten around the front of his shirt. “Marius?”

“Be quiet for a moment,” he says. His fingers rest on your hips and you swear you can feel the heat radiating off his palms. It makes you want to shuffle away, pull back and put some space between the both of you—he doesn’t do anything, doesn’t tighten his grip, but his hands somehow get heavier. Like a weighted blanket resting around your waist, shackles holding you in place without really holding you at all. 

Your heart kicks in your chest. It isn’t often that Marius gets this way, so quiet and possessive, like he has to cage you in a small corner and watch you to make sure you don’t get away. His forehead rests against your clavicle—it’s not a comfortable position, not when he’s so much taller and he’s pressed up so closely against you that you can feel the way his chest shivers when he drags in a long breath. 

“Jiejie,” Marius whispers, voice quiet. “Sometimes, I wish I could wrap you up like a piece of art and hang you on my wall.”

He’s crazy, you think, and you realise even your subconscious thoughts have taken on this air of fondness when thinking of him.

“Is that so?” You reply, voice just as hushed. From the corner of your eye, you can see another patron glance at the both of you—they glance away, then look back, as if doubting their gaze. Yes, you think weakly to yourself, Marius is indeed clinging to you in the middle of a public gallery for expensive artworks that easily go for three times the price of your apartment. “Which wall will you put me up on?”

This time, Marius’ grip tightens imperceptibly on your hips. “Any wall that jiejie wants to be put up on,” he says huskily. His voice has dropped an octave, and the tone he takes is one that you’ve become very familiar with when you tease each other. Never enough to really commit to anything, not yet, but enough that Marius gets that look in his eyes like he’d very much want to stop being a gentleman about things. 

Abruptly, you notice the double entendre. “Marius!”

“You asked,” he says smugly, lifting his head so you come face to face with the smirk pulling at his lips. He tugs you in to press your body fully up against his, hip to shoulder. “Is jiejie shy now? I can tell you about which walls I’ve thought about you up on—my bedroom, naturally, but the living room is a strong contender.”

You gape at him, too shocked to say something smart in return. “You—! Not so loud, we’re in public!”

“No one’s listening.” Marius tilts his head, giving the surroundings a cursory once over before catching your gaze. “They’re busy looking at the art on display. I’m looking at a different kind of art on display.”

He’s so shameless that it makes you want to burst out in laughter. A different kind of art on display? Who does he think he is, a host from a host club? Where did he learn these phrases from? The Internet? His brother? Worse, Vyn? 

The thought of Marius asking the one and only Vyn Richter for advice on how to pick girls up makes you laugh. 

“You think you’re so smooth,” you say helplessly, lips curving up of their own accord as you reach up to loop your arms around Marius’ neck. “You think I’m going to fall for that?”

“I’m not a gambling man,” Marius tells you, a confident glint in his eye, “but I’ve always been lucky.” 

He puts up a strong front, but you know better. The back of his neck is hot from embarrassment. The tips of his ears are flushed red. You brush a stray strand of hair past the shell of his ear and pinch the crimson tip along the way. 

“Jiejie,” Marius whines, caught in the act. “Come on, let me pretend for a bit. Don’t you want to come home with me and have a better time?” 

He gives you this beseeching look, brows furrowed and lips turned down. You’re weak to that look—it’s suckered you into agreeing to far more things than you normally would have agreed to. But how can you say no to a face like that? To a man built like that, shoulders so broad they could dwarf you in a hug, fingers so long they could encircle your wrist, a face like God himself came down to carve it from marble—when Marius looks at you with that pleading gaze, millimeters away from begging, how can you say no to anything he asks for? 

Perhaps a stronger man would be able to resist the power of Marius’ visual attack. But you never proclaimed to have a strong willpower, and you fold like a castle of cards in a stiff breeze. 

“Let’s finish looking at all the works first. And no, just because you know who the artist is and insist that you could bring me over to his studio to see his other works—that doesn’t mean I don’t want to see the works exhibited here.”

“His art isn’t even that good,” Marius says, just to be contrary. “If you really wanted to see something from him, you should see his sculptures. I’ll admit those are impressive.”

“Finish the gallery, and then we can go home. You get to pick dinner.”

He perks up. “Italian or Chinese?”

“Later,” you insist. “I want to see this painting—” you glance at the title, raising an eyebrow when you catch sight of it, “—Lotus III.”

“Inspired by the same lotus garden that was featured in Lotus 0, Lotus I and Lotus II,” Marius grumbles as he takes one hand off your waist. You slide your hands down his shoulders, his chest, and furtively pat him on the ass before letting him go. 

He jumps, eyes wide as he swivels his head around to look at you. You give him an innocent look in return. 

“If you insist on being naughty, jiejie, don’t be surprised if I snatch you away and kidnap you back home.” The hand still on your waist squeezes in warning, and heat slithers down your back at the tone in his voice. 

You put a hand over the one on your waist, sliding your fingers in between his. “Be good.”

“Good boys get rewards. Is there a reward waiting for me later, jiejie?”

Naughty, you think to yourself, side-eying him. There’s a charming smile on his face, not even bothering to hide the playfulness lurking beneath his eyes. He’s testing you, pushing and pulling at your limits to see how far you can bend over backwards. 

“Maybe,” you reply. It’s never a good thing to reveal all your cards too early when dealing with a von Hagen in a playful mood. 

Marius laughs, leaning in to press his lips against the side of your head. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

The way he practically attaches himself to your hip, thumb rubbing possessively over your waist—you can’t help the flush crawling up to your cheeks, or the heat that flares between your legs. His hold on you isn’t tight, but it isn’t loose either. It reeks of a promise, and you can’t help but look forward to what that will happen once the two of you get back to his house. Or what will happen once you get into his car, when Marius has you right where he wants you to be and there’s enough privacy for something to happen. 

You shift, thighs rubbing together involuntarily at the stray thought. Desire slips through your body like a snake coiling in your veins; if you cling a little tighter to Marius in return, your mind only half-focused on the works displayed on the walls, well, no one will know. 

You think Marius might suspect something, though, going by the way his smirk grows larger with every glance he shoots you from the corner of his eye. 

Like he’s found something he can’t take his eyes off. Like he’s found something he likes. 

You fail to give Mikeden the attention his works deserve for the rest of the time you spend in the gallery, but he’s truly friends with Marius then you think the man won’t mind too much.

==

To your surprise, Marius doesn’t immediately scoop you into his lap when you get into the car. 

He leans over to help you pull the seatbelt, and very conveniently buries his face in your neck for half a second before he pulls back. Long enough for him to press his lips against your collarbone, the tip of his tongue swiping wetly against your skin; short enough for you to wonder if you hallucinated it.

But the smug look in his eyes as he pulls the seatbelt over your chest to click it into place tells you that you most definitely did not hallucinate it. 

“Home first,” Marius tells you, pretending to be casual as he leans back in his seat and does his own seatbelt. “If you keep looking at me with those eyes, jiejie, I can’t promise I’ll keep my hands to myself while we’re on the road back.”

Right, you think dazedly. You’d forgotten Marius had decided to drive the both of you here—it wasn’t far from his place, and the both of you typically take a chauffeured car, but Marius wanted to do something special today. You haven’t been on a date in a while due to your unfortunate work schedule, and it definitely surprised you when Marius pulled up to your apartment in the driver’s seat, the window wound down, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he grinned at you. 

“What a shame,” you murmur under your breath, watching as he does his own seatbelt before pulling out of the parking lot. 

Your words make Marius stiffen. He glances at you from the corner of his eye, one hand resting lazily on the steering wheel as the other finds its way to your knee. 

Again with that loose grip that feels like a shackle holding you in place. Marius isn’t doing anything more than just placing his hand over your knee—there’s not even any real pressure behind, no force or flexing or tightening of his grip, but you feel weighed down. You feel held down.

You wonder, a little stupidly, if Marius would do something if you spread your legs apart. 

But you’re on the road. Despite the heat flaring insistently in your gut, you’re not actually ready to risk it all while Marius is behind the wheel. It would have been a different story if the both of you were in the back seat with the partition drawn up. The ride back is what, ten, fifteen minutes? There’s a lot you can get done in that period of time.

Right as you resign yourself to a normal, quick ride back home, Marius’ hand slips a little.

Just a little. It’s so subtle that if it weren’t for the heat practically bleeding through his palms, you think you wouldn’t have noticed. 

His hand goes from right above your knee to cupping the inside of your knee. 

You eye him speculatively. Was it inertia? The car made a turn and his hand simply slipped with the centrifugal force? 

His lips quirk up. “I’ll get shy if you keep looking at me, jiejie. I need to focus on the road.”

“Hm,” you say, feeling your cunt clench involuntarily when Marius’ hand moves further up your thigh. It’s not in direct contact with your skin, not when there’s your silk dress in between, but the material is thin and you swear you can feel the calluses from Marius’ fingers rubbing gently against the sensitive inside of your thigh. 

Fifteen minutes, you think. Surely you can’t die from a little fun on the road. 

“Your hand’s on the wrong place,” you murmur, gently placing your hand over his. 

Marius hums at the back of his throat. “Ah? Sorry, I—jiejie.”

You lift his hand off your thigh for a quick moment, draw apart the slit of your dress, and slide his hand under the fabric.

Directly on your thigh. You even curve his fingers back down so he can maintain that grip on you.

You can see his fingers flex. They’re stiff, knuckles tense as if he doesn’t know what to do with himself. When you peek at him, his ears are flushed a bright red and his Adam’s Apple bobs furiously, like he’s swallowing desperately. 

And right between his thighs, you can see a tent in his trousers. You kind of want to reach out to touch it, but you hold yourself back. 

“Jiejie,” he whines, and chances a glance at you before reluctantly dragging his eyes back to the road. “I was joking—you can’t distract me while I’m driving.”

“I’m not doing anything,” you say mildly, burying the laugh that threatens to escape when his fingers squeeze pointedly around your thigh. The grave you dug is for both of you; his hand is higher now, on your thigh, so close to your core that one road bump would probably be reason enough for his fingers to slide right home. 

You almost want to pretend to jerk forward. But you have enough of your wits about you to recognise that if Marius felt the heat of your pussy through your panties press up against his fingertips at this moment, he would probably drive the car into the nearest building. 

“I’m trying to be good,” Marius complains. His fingers keep twitching against your skin, as if he’s really, physically holding himself back from doing something. 

“Good boys get rewards,” you echo, patting the back of his palm. “We’re almost home, see the gates up in front?”

He clicks his tongue. “As if I can focus on anything right now.” To prove his point, he speeds up, leg bouncing impatiently as he turns into the driveway. “Park, I have to park…”

The whole time, his hand doesn’t leave your thigh. And there’s something really sexy about it, you can’t help but realise—the slant of his jaw from the side, the way driving comes so easily to him, where he only needs one hand to maneuver the wheel. Even the way he looks over his shoulder as he eases into his parking spot makes you want to press your thighs together in a useless attempt to stave off the heat building in your core. 

“Good enough,” Marius declares, switching the engine off. “Out, out, come on—”

He snaps the seatbelt off and practically flies out the car. You’re so taken aback that you’re still in your seat when he comes to your side and yanks the door open, petulance written all over his face when he finds you still strapped in. 

“C’mon,” he whines, reaching over to unbuckle your seatbelt. “Jiejie, come on, come on—”

“Impatient,” you chide, even as you reach out to steady yourself while you exit the car. “Hold on, my heels—”

“Jiejie,” Marius says, and he seriously sounds like he’s about to burst. 

In that split second, you make a decision. Your panties are ruined as is, and you really, really want to be filled right now. You’re not sure if you can make the distance from the car to the lift, especially when the garage is so fucking huge—

“Backseat,” you murmur, and Marius reacts much faster than you expect. He pulls you up and into his chest, making you let out a sound of surprise at how aggressive he is, but he’s surprisingly gentle when he cups your jaw and slants his lips over yours. 

It’s a desperate kiss. Marius licks into your mouth, hands tight around your waist as he pulls you in close. The bulge in his slacks feels like it’s burning a brand into your hip—you want to skate your hands down, cup that swollen cock and rub your thumb over the tip. You’ve never seen it, not yet, but the two of you have fooled around every now and then so you’re somewhat familiar with the curve of his cock through his pants. 

It’s a hefty weight in your fingers, and Marius always makes the most delicious sounds when you rock your hips against him, squeezing around his thigh between your legs as you trace over the outline of his cock. 

“Fuck,” Marius curses. His fingers dig greedily into the sides of your body—the grip now is entirely different from the one at the museum. The positions are roughly the same, but this time he holds you like he’s trying to burn his brand into you, leave an imprint of bruises around your waist so you ache every time you move tomorrow morning. “Fuck, jiejie, your mouth—”

“Mmhmm,” you hum into his mouth, shoving one thigh between his legs so you can get a good seat on Marius’ thigh. It’s as if Marius has a direct line of sight into your mind—he hikes you up on his thigh so the hard line of his muscle presses right into the swell of your clit, and you groan out loud as you start rocking against his thigh. 

Fuck, you think you could cum like this. Marius’ hands have dropped lower, cupping the curve of your ass and every squeeze he makes goes straight to your cunt like there’s a livewire connection. He pulls you so high up that you’re struggling to keep your toes on the ground, and Marius is practically pulling you back and forth on his leg, helping you rut against him. 

His breath is hot. His kisses are searing, and it feels like there’s a nonstop feedback loop where your arousal pours into each other over and over again. It’s a fire in your gut, threatening to eat you alive, and when he pulls back to catch his breath, he immediately bows down to lick against your jaw. 

Marius sucks at your skin, bullying a bruise into the underside of your jaw. He isn’t satisfied with just one, and he just keeps going down the expanse of your neck, biting at any patch of unblemished skin. 

“Baby,” you whisper, one hand trailing down to press your palm over the tight bulge begging for attention. The lightest touch is enough to make Marius groan, hips stuttering as he chases your touch. “Can I—can I touch?”

Marius freezes for a heartbeat. Before you can second guess yourself, he moans into your neck, hips jerking as he pushes his clothed cock into your palm. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants, nodding while avoiding eye contact with you.

His ears are crimson. So cute, you can’t help but think through the fever in your mind. It’s almost too easy to find your way around the button in his pants, and there’s some trouble with getting the zipper down from how hard he is. His briefs get caught for a moment, long enough to make Marius groan from frustration, but you shush him with another slide of your hips, cunt wet enough to drench his slacks, and Marius shuts up. 

“Good boy,” you murmur breathlessly, arching your back so you get a better angle to grind your clit against his thigh. “Be good, come on, let me—”

Unfortunately, there are no flaps in briefs for you to pull his cock out from. You reach in instead, shivering at the proper weight of it in your palm—skin on skin, you think deliriously to yourself, cunt clenching at the feeling of Marius’ cock in your hand. His cock, so thick that you can’t even really wrap your fingers around it properly, and the head is dripping. 

Marius sucks in a tight breath, cursing as he cants his hips up, almost bouncing you on his lap from the force. 

“Jiejie,” he begs, plaintive and desperate. “Nngh, please, the tip, you need to—fuck, I’m not going to—I’m going to cum, jiejie…”

And you stop thinking. You grab one of his hands and drag it to your front, so commandingly that Marius’ head flies up. His eyes are red, lips parted as he sucks in a shaky breath every time you swipe your thumb across the sensitive slit at the head of his cock. 

“In, inside,” you whine, rising as high as you can go on your toes. It’s not very high, given how far up Marius has pulled you onto his thigh, but it’s enough for your to drag his long fingers under your skirt and press them up against your cunt. 

Marius’ eyes are blown wide. “In-inside?” He stammers, fingers crooking automatically to press against the throbbing bud of your clit. Such clever fucking fingers, already familiar with the shape of your cunt to know where your clit is. 

Without needing much direction, he uses two fingers to drag your soaked panties to the side and rubs the knuckle of his index finger against your pussy. 

“A-ah,” you cry out, hips jerking. Fuck, you understand now why Marius reacted like that when you got your hand on his cock—there’s something about the texture of his skin, the calluses on his fingers that’s stroking the sides of your pussy, the sheer heat radiating off him—and the knowledge, the knowledge that it’s his hands on your cunt. After months of frotting, the most you’ve done being Marius’s palm flat against your cunt while you held eye contact and grinded against his shaking palm until you cummed—

“Inside, baby, come on,” you plead, rocking your hips insistently against his curious fingers. 

Again, it’s like Marius gets you. He sinks his index finger in; you think he wanted to go slow, because he tentatively pressed up into your cunt, but you’re greedy and you’ve been thinking of being filled since Marius made that joke about putting you up against a wall and you whine, rocking forward until you sink down, down, all the way down to the base and Marius’ breath is hitching in his throat. 

“You’re—” his finger bends, the tip brushing against this spot inside you that makes your entire body shiver, threatening to bend in half from the electricity that surges through you. “Shit, you’re—fuck, jiejie, you feel fucking incredible.”

“One more,” you beg, holding his wrist in place while you clench around his finger. Christ, you didn’t think it could feel this good. It’s so foreign, so much longer and thicker than your fingers—and again, the knowledge that it’s Marius’ hand, Marius’ finger is enough to make your gut tighten and sparks burst at the very end of your fingertips. “One more and my—”

You break off, thighs trembling when he swipes against your swollen clit with his thumb.

Marius groans at the sight of you, leaning in to bite at your lips. “One more and my thumb on your clit? Is that what you want, jiejie? Is that what you need?”

“Mmhmm—ahhhhhn, fuck, Marius—please, please, I’m so fucking close—!”

You’re not even sure if you’re still stroking the length of his cock. All your senses have narrowed down to your cunt, the pressure on your clit and the way his fingers have gained confidence with every stroke—he fucks up into you with such surety, so certain that he knows exactly where to hit to get that same, body shivering reaction from you.

The worst part is, he does. It barely takes one, two, three strokes while he whispers filthy things about how hot and wet and slick your cunt is, about how it’s soaked through just for him, about how he wants to bury his face in it, please jiejie, please let him put your thighs around his ears and eat you out, and you’re gone. 

It hits you so hard you think you almost pass out. The ascent comes too quickly; it almost feels like the orgasm is ripped from you from clever hands that know you better than you know yourself. It leaves you breathless, your entire body jerking uncontrollably as you whine, pussy clenching around those two thick fingers buried in your cunt. You’re mumbling nonsense, not even sure what you’re saying as your cunt gushes around Marius’ ruined pants and when you resurface, Marius looks at you like you’re the second coming of Christ.

It takes you both a while to get your breathing under control. Marius recovers first, gently sliding his fingers out of your cunt. You’re a little embarrassed at the absolute mess you’ve made, but Marius eyes the wetness dripping over his palm, down his wrist, and decides to drag his tongue along his skin to lick it all up.

He even looks right as you as he does it. The sight is enough to make your clit throb, as if gearing up for a second round. Oh, you could definitely do a second round, but you think you’d prefer for it to be in a room with a bed and not a garage.

Almost absentmindedly, you start to rub your thumb against the cockhead in your grip.

“F-fuck,” Marius groans lowly, free hand reaching out to grab your wrist. “Wait, wait—nnngh, sensitive. Give me a moment.”

You pause. You look down.

His briefs are stained. There’s a massive wet spot at the front, and when you drag your fingers out, they’re coated in a sticky, white fluid. 

You look Marius in the eye as you, too, lift your fingers to your lips. You stick your tongue out, wiping the threads of cum on your tongue so Marius can see how white looks in your mouth—and he flushes even redder than he already is, eyes darting away before darting back, as if he can’t decide whether he wants to look or not—and then you swallow. 

Marius is speechless for a while. 

“That was really hot,” he says eventually, voice hoarse. “I—fuck, jiejie, I can go again. I’m serious, just give me a minute.” 

You suck on your fingertips for a moment. You’re clearly ready for a second round, but you know he gets more desperate when you keep him hanging. And a desperate Marius is always a delight to work with. 

“Bedroom?” You suggest, and your cunt tightens at the way his eyes immediately go dark with desire.

==

© rrrrinmaru 2024 | no unauthorised publication or reproduction allowed

[chronicbeans]

Wally and a Puppeteer Reader (part 2)

My brain won't shut up about this, I like it, and others seem to like it as well. I'm so happy people seem to like my stuff!

TW: Obsessive Behaviors, Stalking, Idol Worship, Scopophobia/Eye Imagery

🎥Today was the day! Apparently, Welcome Home has become beloved enough that someone has decided to interview some of the producers, directors, and cast. Cast including the puppeteers, which means you.

🎥 To be honest, you never really liked being on camera. That isn't to say you didn't like being a puppeteer! No, no, no! You LOVE your job. You love Wally, Home, every character in the neighborhood. You would just rather be behind the scenes. So, this interview is a little daunting.

🎥 When everything is all prepared, you look around the room. Every other puppeteer is sitting with their puppets, just like you are with Wally. Currently, you are all just waiting for the interviewer to finish up with the producers and camera crew. There's been punch laid out and everything for them. It seems like the boss really wanted to make a good first impression with whoever has come in.

🎥 Home is right next to you, with your chair positioned right beside it. It's pretty big, simply because there has to be a couple different versions of it. Ones that fit hand puppets perfectly through the front door and ones that fit the walk around puppets. The larger of the two versions of Home is next to you, with the smaller Home on a table near the title card set.

🎥 Everyone is chatting about their memories making the show, from funny trips that Eddie's puppeteer has made to the improve comedy that Barnaby's puppeteer has come up with for his skits. Everyone is having a jolly good time, except for you. You have this odd feeling like something is going on. Like something is wrong.

🎥 You look down to the little puppet of Wally, which you have nearly sat upon your lap. Ever since the odd incident with storing him away, you have been a bit more protective of him. You don't want him to be messed up. Improperly storing him could result in him being misshapen, so finding out that someone messed with him was alarming.

🎥 Worse yet, though, is that ever since that little incident... you have been feeling like someone is watching you during work. Then there's the colorful letters and drawings you have been getting. Every single one of them has been found on your desk in the storage area for props related to Wally. The language used in the letters are childish and cutesy, such as saying "If you were an apple, you would be the most sparkly and red one, because you are the most!" Every drawing is drawn entirely in crayon, with paint splatters here and there...

🎥 The interviewer comes in, saving you from your own anxious thoughts, as he waves to everyone. He introduces himself, fixing his black suit as he speaks in a formal manner. "Good evening, everyone. I apologize for the delay. Your boss was so excited to tell us about the plans and passion behind this show, I couldn't help but ask him many questions. Now, lets begin."

🎥 It takes a while, but soon, the interviewer gets to you. He asks you simple questions, such as what inspired you to become a puppeteer and what drew you into working on Welcome Home. You give the best answers you could provide, before he asks one that really intrigues you.

🎥"I have heard from some of the production and directing crew that you care a lot about Wally as a character, as well as puppet care. What exactly is it about Wally that you like? What made you want to play him?"

🎥 You couldn't help but grin, explaining everything you loved about Wally as a character. You talk about how he interacts with the audience, small quirks he has and how they are displayed on the show, and even pick him up to go over his character design.

🎥 One sentence you say suddenly makes your brain click in an odd way. The second you let the words "Wally lives to draw art for the viewer of the viewer, due to having a deep appreciation for their kindness" leave your lips, you can't help but remember all of the weird drawings of you you have been finding on your desk recently. You keep talking, though, in the hopes that the memory will just go away for now.

🎥 The drawings can wait. The letters can wait. All that you really want to talk and think about right now is how much this show means to you, as well as how proud of your coworkers you are for helping everyone make Welcome Home as popular as is it. Maybe this interview isn't going as bad as you thought it would?

🎥 You are so invested in talking and answering questions, in fact, that you neglect to notice how Wally seems to subtly curl into your touch. Then again, no one else seems to, either.

[ruiniel]

Hey ho! Love you blog and writing so much!!! I wish I could write as well as you. They way you write Alucard is just magic ✨

I saw that you had asks open for Alucard and if it’s not too late I had a suggestion, maybe there’s one you might like?

Lisa never dies AU Alucard x Fem Human who’s come to study under Lisa. She’s already betrothed and there’s a lot of moral conflict on Adrian’s side as to whether he should confess to her. Reader is clueless but suffering as she feels her love for Alucard is unrequited. Could be smutty if you feel like it?

You're kind, we all have our interpretations, glad you enjoy mine enough to send an ask! Tried to incorporate most of what you wrote. Will be a longer one, here's what I have for Part I. Next part will have an Alucard POV.

Hidden

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Pairing: Alucard x fem!reader

Rating: T

Count: 2k

Tags & Warnings: Mutual pining, Romantic angst, Unresolved emotional tension, Second Person POV, Two people running from their feelings like their lives depend on it, for Reasons

I. Status quo

“Not yet. Wait five minutes longer.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you stammer, placing the beaker back in its place. The laboratory is silent today, with only you and Lisa and the clink of glass and hiss of flame. You’re working together, aiding the head physician of Belmont in an experiment she sustains will bring forth a new type of medicine that might revolutionize the treatment of infection. 

Lisa smiles, always patient, and you feel all the more clumsy, and in all honesty rather useless.

Your mind’s just not in it today, and the reasons? Well.

There is no reason, there shouldn’t be. You’re content. You have someone by your side, to spend a life together. Your fleeting life, the thought beckons.

You bury down the thought of his voice, the patience he poured into teaching you the basics before his mother took you under her wing. It matters little now. You’ll pass this apprenticeship and you’ll always find work, in any place, away from the agony that takes hold whenever you meet his eyes lately.  

“Are you all right?” your tutor asks, and you shake your head, annoyed at yourself. 

“Yes, I...”

“Drifted away, I know what that’s like all too well,” Lisa adds with a smile, her attention back to her working table. “After all, we’re only human, aren’t we?”

“Yes...” Only human. 

How stupid is it to think he would ever look at you that way? Your friendship at least endures, and he does not know. 

“Mother?”

You bite the inside of your cheek at the voice, listening to the footsteps drawing near, the tread you’d recognize anywhere. 

“My dear?” Lisa asks.

Adrian pauses somewhere between your working stations. “I need a gauze and disinfectant. Sara fell during one of their usual games by the river and now sports a gash the size of Belmont’s ego.”

“Of course,” she turns to you. “Darling please will you show Adrian where we moved the supplies?”

You freeze, still with your back turned, wanting to appear busy. The dome is silent again, and the faraway laughter of children can be heard through the open windows.

He doesn’t say your name, merely waits as you face him, slowly. You’ve seen less and less of him in the past month, and you yearn to look. I have someone. Someone worthy. This would never work, him and I, even if he did... “This way,” you say, your manner betraying nothing as you disappear among the many stacked shelves of the laboratory storage area. You’ve had plenty of practice in that respect, after all.

You find the section hosting the necessary items and reach for the sliding stairs nearby while Adrian busies himself momentarily with an open tome lying on one of the tables.

“What are you doing?” comes the softly spoken question.

“I’m... retrieving what you asked for?” If there’s irritation in your tone, you can’t be bothered to hide it.

“That wasn’t necessary. After all, I could get them myself, without the use of—”

“Yes, I know, but now I’m already up here,” you say while struggling to reach for a roll of bandages.

“Careful!” Adrian warns, but your boot’s already slipped on the well-worn wood and for a second you feel the relentless pull of gravity, and your fall.

Next you know—

You’re held none-too-gently against Adrian, the grasp of his hold crushing your ribcage as you try to breathe. Without realizing you’re clutching at the folds of his loose cotton shirt, knuckles pressed into the bare skin below his collarbone. 

You dare not meet his eyes, struggling even as he places you on your feet, your heart a mess.

“I told you I can get them myself,” he says with due exasperation. His back is already turned, and he pushes the stairs aside, rising to the intended spot. 

You open your mouth to speak but can think of nothing to say that would be in any way useful. You should thank him, but decide against lingering. He seems to be in a strange mood today—better to retreat and so you do, finding your way back to the other side where his mother is still noting down proportions. Stiffly you walk, fingers curling against the imprint of familiar warmth at their tips. 

You wish it could be like before, between the two of you. Why does it feel like treason each time you meet his eyes, choking on your emotions like rags being forced down your throat? 

I shouldn’t be wasting time on this. 

And so you try to follow suit, heeding that sensible thought and smiling at Lisa as you reach her.

Two weeks prior

Your legs dangle in the air as you sit on the stony battlement with your gaze cast towards the forest beyond, sunken in thought. This is a time of celebration, but the reminder only makes you quirk your mouth tiredly and with some amount of distaste. It is a chilly night, made colder by the harsh winds reaching from the West. You’d forgotten to take your cloak, and now hug yourself to warm your prickling skin. Below, the townsfolk are steeped in song, drink, and merriment. 

You sigh. At least there is peace to be had up here. You’d left needing solitude, and so disappeared from the eyesight of any who might wonder. As luck has it, your friends, trapped in their own wiles and enjoyment, had scarcely noticed your departure. Things were already animated in the groves surrounding the village, and voices raised in joyous song dimly reach you from afar. Even Adrian had been indulging in the fragrant honey wine offered for the occasion, despite his otherwise restrained manner.

You frown. Yes, Adrian. Your friend, your dearest friend, with his sunset gaze aglow from the bonfires, cast on you like melting gold, and burning just as much. 

You wonder at these rather trying new thoughts, and why in recent years such things come to your notice as they had not in the past. He always held to himself and seems utterly disinterested in matters of the heart. Tonight, however, he’d been no less than gallant and, from what you could tell, eagerly inclined towards conversation. 

You bring your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them, lost in the shy moon rays peeking from torn clouds streaking the sky. You don’t know how much time had passed, and late realize someone approaches. You don’t turn to see who it is, not until you hear a shift of material, and breathe the scent you know too well. 

Adrian fluidly sits down by your side, leaning back with his palms propped against the stone.

Your heartbeat is ruthless, but still you do not turn. He’s so near you feel a few gilded strands touch your cheek as the winds blow them in this direction and that.

He follows the sight of that same moon, now layering a silvery grin over castle and forest. “I’ve never known one to flee a festivity so early.”

You snort. “Some of us tire faster.” Odd, you’d been joyful indeed and eager as the day began, and now a ragged mood confuses you more than anything. 

When you should be happy.

You feel warmth, and realize Adrian’s undone his coat, placing it around your shoulders, over your hunched form. 

You don’t move, do nothing to fasten the material around yourself, either. It has something of him warming you from head to toe. What you fail to place is the sweet ache as you drink in his scent, nearly sighing aloud. “What are you doing here?” 

Adrian looks your way, an eyebrow raised. “You disappeared. I wanted to see that you were well.”

“But how did you know it was me?” You don’t usually come here, and had deliberately avoided any of the places he knows you frequent. 

Adrian stares long at the moonlit sky. “I would know you anywhere.” His voice holds that same unflinching honesty, a simple truth for him.

Rather dizzy, your words still come bitten at the edges. “I’m fine. Of course. Now I believe your curiosity is satisfied?” 

A gentle hand is placed on your arm, but immediately withdrawn. Somehow, the gesture angers you. It shouldn’t. 

“...what’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” you stare away, into the black horizon. “Why would anything be wrong?”

Adrian says nothing, and a part of you hopes he’d leave you to your misery. The other hopes he doesn’t. 

“You’ve always been a terrible liar,” he tilts his head to look at you. 

You grumble something unintelligible. 

“That is good to know,” he teases, while reaching inside his tunic to retrieve an object. “This, also, was part of the reason I was searching for you.”

Now you truly wish he would go, but you cannot see your days without him for a while now, and worry over what Adrian would think if he knew.

“Will you sulk or look?”

Annoyed, you set your gaze on his palm; your eyes go wide. “What... is this?”

Adrian holds the pendant up for you to see better. “A gift, for the sulky one. Did you think I’d forgotten today was your birthday?”

You stare at the piece, shining with a light of its own. The chain is so slight one could barely tell it was there, and a small, round pendant of iridescent moonstone glows against his pale hand.

“You mean, for...” Words fail as your eyes meet his. His smile is small and sweet, and you wonder what it would taste like before hot tingles creep up your neck, reaching all the way to your cheeks. “Thank you, this is... this is kind. You know I don’t…”

“May I?” 

You catch his meaning and so turn with your back to him, his coat falling from your shoulders, looking down to see the stone nestled in the hollow of your neck. You bite on the inside of your lip when his fingers touch your skin to fasten the pendant and when you turn to face him again, a smile beyond your will pulls at your lips. “I… it’s beautiful. Thank… you.”

His hands are curled in his lap as Adrian breaks your gaze. He shakes his head. “Listen, I—”

No. You can’t, you can’t hear whatever other pleasantries he has to say. What is this? Why is he doing this now, kindly gestures like crumbs to feed the thing within you that suddenly is ravening, yearning for something that frightens you, that you’ve finally set to rest?

“Adrian.”

He looks at you then, and you stare at each other for so long you don’t even know when you’d begun to shiver with the cold again.

“Yes?” 

“As of next week, I am betrothed. To Matei.”

He is still watching you, not a line changing on his face. “That is wonderful. Matei, is it?” A pondering smile. “I’ve seen the two of you together often, but did not want to presume.” Silence falls between you. The smile is frozen on his face. “Where is he, though?”

There used to be a time when there were no secrets, no strangeness. You look down, touching the gem at the base of your neck. “Still not returned from Brașov.” A change of topic is in order, though you know Adrian has never been one to pry, and so would not ask more. 

Yes, Matei is a good man. He’s kind and honorable, and has a knack for making one forget their woes. It’s a good decision. It has to be. “It feels right,” you murmur anyway. Then why does this hurt? 

“Are you happy?” Adrian asks, rising and leaning on the stone edge with his elbows. The question is soft, but his voice lacks the warmth from earlier—maybe it’s your imagination. 

A stray cloud mists over the moon, and the night grows darker around you. “It feels right,” you repeat stupidly, suddenly needing to be away as you rise from your place. “I should go inside, it’s gotten so much colder…” You drop his coat. “Again, I thank you for your gift.”

Adrian does not move from his place, his loose hair shielding his expression. “It was gladly given. And—congratulations.”

You nod in thanks though he does not see it, wait for a moment longer. He sketches nothing, having fallen into a reverie it seems, and everyone has the right to solitude. “Good night, Adrian,” you turn on your heel and walk briskly to reach the door, not looking back. 

Part II

[all-about-kyu]

Summary: Whatever you did to mess up the recipe really has you desperate for Kun. Pairing: Wizard!Kun x fem apprentince!reader Tropes: magic au, wizardry au Genre: smut Rating: R 18+ Warnings: language, magic, fictional herbs Smut Warnings: aphrodisiacs, overstimulation, fingering, oral sex (f receive), sudden female orgasm, unprotected sex, marking, crying, aftercare Word Count: 1,700 Host Tags: @sanjoongie @thelargefrye Note: thank you to @stardragongalaxy for proofreading! Before You Interact February Filth Masterlist

Listen to ♡ Same Scent by Oneus

“Watch this brew while I handle the inventory for a moment.” Kun smiles sweetly.

“Are you sure? I can do inventory. I don’t want to mess–”

Kun shakes his head, “I trust you.”

You nod and move toward the cauldron. The bubbling brew smells sweet, almost as if to draw you in more. You vaguely hear Kun talking to himself in the storage room, likely checking how many phoenix feathers you have left. You started running low, but your pet phoenix just rebirthed, and its feathers are nowhere ready to molt yet. That or maybe he’s checking the progress on the pixie dust crystalization. Either way, you swear you hear him call you. Whipping your head around, you see him still deep in the store room, not even attempting to get your attention. When you turn, though, you move the spoon and knock it into a small vile next to the cauldron. You close your eyes and slowly turn your head back to the large cast iron pot. When you open your eyes, it looks the same. It just smells the slightest bit sweeter— the vile lies on its side, with barely a drop still inside it. 

“The brew should be done! Put the fire out, okay?” 

You nod, even if he might not see it, “O-okay!”

“Also,” Kun says, walking back into the kitchen, “I want you to try a little bit of it. It’s a romantic-based potion, but just one sip won’t do anything.”

You don’t want to seem suspicious, so you nod, take a small spoon from the side table, and dip it into the metallic pink liquid. After blowing on it a few times, you place the spoon against your lips and sip it. Instantly, a rush of heat goes through your body. Everything is hypersensitive. You’re far more aware of everything around you than you’d like to be. When you look back at Kun, he can immediately tell something is off with you. You suddenly feel the need to fuck him like your life depends on it. You’ve always respected the line of Wizard and apprentice, no matter how hot he is. Now, though, all you can imagine is being absolutely railed by him to the point that you can’t form a coherent word in your mind.

“Are you okay?”

“Kun,” your voice comes out almost like a moan.

His eyes go wide as saucers. Then his eyes darted to the cauldron. He leans over and smells the sweeter scent. Before even thinking to check his surroundings, he dips his hand in, using it as a cup of sorts, and sips the liquid as well. Suddenly, in his peripheral, he notices the knocked-over vile. Amorus.

“You knocked over the Amorus.” He states with a slight groan, picking up the small glass container, “How much– fuck…” 

“I didn’t want to upset you.” You pout and step closer, “Kun, could we maybe…”

He was starting to feel the effects of the potion as well, and damn, did he need to see you fall apart for him right now. He finds himself leaning in slowly, and you are, too. There are so many lines being blurred right now, but with the effects of the botched potion, neither of you can think about anything other than fucking each other. Kun places his hand on your waist, and you feel goosebumps on your skin when his hand makes contact. Finally, his lips are on yours. It’s not a very coordinated kiss, but it’s desperate, needy, sloppy. You absolutely melt at the sensation. Kun whispers something against your lips. It’s a spell you don’t know yet. You’re so fixated on him that when you finally let your hands wander, and you don’t feel fabric, you moan against his lips.

“That’s a fun little spell I can teach you once these potions wear off.” Kun chuckles, “It’s very handy, no?”

“Kun, please?”

He wraps his arms around your waist fully and tells you to jump. You wrap your legs around his waist tightly. A whimper escapes your lips at the feeling of your clit pressed against his bare skin. His cock stands tall and is perfectly pressed against your ass. You find yourself seated on one of the worn wooden tables. It’s not the most comfortable, but it’s more than enough for Kun to lay you out and fuck you stupid.

You hear the sound of jars and dishes being pushed to the side haphazardly as Kun guides you to lay back fully on the table. His kisses finally start trailing down your throat and between the valley of your breasts. You have a constant stream of moans and profanities falling from your mouth as Kun hungrily lays wet kisses everywhere he can. When his kisses finally reach your lower belly, you can’t help but let your hips jerk. Each kiss grows just a bit closer to where you need him. 

Even though he’s just as desperate as you are, the fact that he’s putting you first has your belly swooping and flipping. He continues to place kisses against the area just above your soaked entrance. You tangle your hand in his hair, and that gives him the last bit of push to lick a wide stripe up your folds. He eats you out like a starved man. After a few licks, he sucks on your clit. Kun continues this pattern for a while. Your other hand finds a place in his hair as well, tugging at the reddish-brown strands as he makes you melt into a feral puddle. He brings a hand up to your folds while his mouth is focused on your clit. Kun presses two fingers against your cunt, barely teasing your entrance. 

“Kun,” you moan, “Please just put them in, don’t tease me!”

Kun releases your clit for a moment, chuckling through a smirk. He pushes his fingers into you. You knew you were sensitive, but you suddenly feel arousal burn through you so hot that your orgasm tumbles through you. Your thighs shake around his head, wanting desperately to close. Kun holds one of your thighs down, stopping you from fully closing them. Kun doesn’t stop; he continues to lap at your clit while pistoning his fingers into you. The overstimulation burns through you in the most pleasurable pain you’ve ever known.

“You’re still so needy.” Kun muses, pulling away from your pussy, face still covered in your arousal, “You want me to fuck you?”

Your eyes are glazed over and needy. His fingers still pushing in and out of you render your brain completely empty. Your mental space is nothing more than an aroused fog. Kun chuckles again as you nod so hard you nearly smack your head against the hardwood of the table. When he pulls his fingers out of you, you whimper at the lack of contact. A moment later, you feel him rubbing his tip through your folds, and that same painful pleasure returns as he pushes his cock against your clit.

“Ready? I’m gonna make you see god, maybe even more.” He practically growls.

“Kun, please!” You moan, reaching up to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

He pushes into you and immediately pistons his hips against yours. You scream out at the feeling of the overstimulation. Kun pulls your legs up beside your chest on either side and holds them there before pressing his body against yours. The feeling of his bare skin on yours makes you have a fresh shot of arousal course through your body. 

Neither of you is going to last very long. The potion won’t allow that. You’re already well on your way to your second orgasm as it is. Kun hides his face against the junction of your neck and shoulder. He starts to bite the bare skin, leaving teeth marks and hickeys. You dig your nails into his skin, leaving small crescent moons behind. Locking your legs around his hips, you feel your second orgasm burst forth almost painfully.

“So fucking good.” He growls, “You feel so fucking good. Maybe I should stay wrapped up in this pussy all day, every day.” “Please!” You gasp, starting to come back down from your orgasm.

The overstimulation is almost too painful, but you also don’t want to stop. Kun starts to moan more often, which you assume to be an alert to his impending orgasm. You hardly come down from your second orgasm when the third forces its way through. Tears start rolling down your cheeks as the nearly painful orgasm wrecks you. As you scream and moan at the feeling, Kun’s orgasm finally hits him. He pulls out and cums across your belly. He pushes his fingers back into you and presses his thumb to your clit to help you ride out the rest of your orgasm. 

When you finally start to catch your breath, Kun has already manifested two glasses of water and wiped your belly clean. He pulls you to sit up and then onto his lap. Your body is shaky and weak from the intensity of three orgasms and crying. The wizard continually rubs your back and presses kisses to your hair.

“The potion wear off for you?” He asks quietly.

“Mmm,” is all you can muster at the moment.

“You did so good, sweetheart. I’m proud of you.”

You shift in his lap, wincing slightly at your sore state.

“Was it too much?”

“I think we both needed to fuck it out.” You mumble, still very much out of it.

Kun nods and holds you a bit tighter, “If you accidentally mess up a potion again, just tell me, okay?”

“Okay,” you respond, “Kun?”

“Hmm?”

“What does this mean?”

Kun sighs in thought, “It doesn’t need to mean anything. But– you want honesty?”

“Complete.”

“I wouldn’t mind taking you out on a date or two if you let me.”

You pull your head away from his shoulder, “I’m your apprentice… is that allowed?”

He shrugs at you, “There are plenty of witches and wizards who have their partners as their apprentices.”

You smile, “I’d like that then, only if you promise we can have fun with this new brew sometimes still.”

“Deal.”

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[secretpostsposts]

What if for every year the brothers were gone for Branch made birthday gifts for every year on each of his brothers birthday and put them in special cabinets with their names above them and he even made gifts for them for whenever he was the giver he did this in case his brothers ever came back ok now he leaves his brothers in his bunker while he is with Poppy and they find their gifts what would happen next?

(I can always try and reword this if you need me to)

well I have this idea now, I think that Branch at some point due to his loneliness clung to the idea that Floyd would return, and with him his other brothers, so in an innocent idea he gave gifts and gifts, to the point that there were too many ( Branch was about 10 or 14 years old, and he didn't know what to do with them, many of the gifts didn't seem right to his brothers, Branch remembered little of their tastes so he separated a few that he hoped his brothers would like and placed them in his own room in the depths of his closet to keep them hidden, and during a quick trip to town he saw how the other gifts could help, so at night he left them at the other trolls' houses, that made him feel less lonely.

which soon became a tradition, as did every birthday of his; Branch and Grandma made a cupcake for each brother on their birthday, Branch memorized them every day and the recipes for the cupcakes, because they were his brothers' favorite, 4 different recipes that Branch wrote down and prepared once on each birthday. , and the gifts that began to accumulate in his closet, which was now more of a storage room in his room than a closet; Even though Branch lost hope that his brothers would come back for him, he continued making gifts for them, just as a way to torture himself for being so naive.

Now we return to the present.

So on one of the miraculous days when Branch can go out without a shadow (better known as his older brothers), the boys had decided to check Branch's room, look for something that would help them keep Branch with them, they had heard him. mention a newspaper (they find it, but that's not the point), they see the closet door and a wooden closet, which confuses them, so they check the door and find sets of decorated boxes, the same color as their hair, and yellow that were clearly for Clay.

So they check the gifts, the oldest ones were cards with drawings made by a child and the 'newer' ones were more complicated or personalized; It wasn't difficult for them to realize what they meant, Branch had been waiting for them, for them to come back for him, and they didn't do it until now.

the fact that they found those gifts (and if this is becoming canon, CONGRATULATIONS FRIEND, THIS WILL APPEAR IN A FUTURE CHAPTER OF THE FIC); The fact that the idea of Branch waiting for his older brothers to come back for him, to take care of him, to be a family again, only makes the idea of keeping Branch bury itself in their heads, that their little one little brother would do all this for them, only afterward, at least in their twisted minds, that they are the only ones who deserve Branch, that they are the only ones who can love him, protect him and take care of him.

[maraariana01]

ok so obviously this AU is focused on Spring Bonnie and his family, but i do wanna talk a bit about CTW Funtime Freddy being part of this universe too! especially because i plan on drawing or at least writing about an encounter with him and Spring Bonnie after he kidnaps Oswald.

• initially, Funtime Freddy didn't have much remnant left inside him, which is why he wasn't able to just get up and leave the garage whenever he wanted. not to mention that he was pretty broken anyways. he hasn't been used in many, MANY years. but he had just enough remnant to still be able to talk and use his internal mechanisms.

• that all changed, however, after he successfully killed Millie. fueled with fresh agony, he was finally able to move again, so he left the garage in search of a new victim.

• now he's kinda just. out there. in the world. skulking in the shadows (which is how he finds Oswald's house in the first place)

• he is around 8 feet tall, pretty much like Spring Bonnie

• he is weirdly and UNNATURALLY expressive, especially compared to Spring Dad, who's facial expressions are more limited.

• Funtime Freddy is currently... unable to use his storage tank anymore. (looks at the drawing on the right) yea im sure that means nothing. smiles

yea umm. that's all for now i think! im eepy,,

[cyten0]

A Symphony in Crimson

Act 1: A Movement in Black

Chapter 14

Finally. Back at this storage room. It took a while, you made sure the party got through without a scratch on them. The scent of blood isn’t as bad anymore, you can control yourself, but it still feels horrible to smell, for many reasons.

The ONE thing you nee to do right now is keep them safe, that matters more then anything else, even a drop of blood makes you feel like a blinding failure. What’s the point of all of this if they get hurt? You’ve already failed them before, you won’t let it happen again if you can help it.

It makes them a little nervous, seeing you puppet the sadnesses about, making them flee, or tear each other apart. But it’s fine. As long as they're safe.

This is now YOUR lair, not the kings. And you’ll never let them get hurt here.

But right now, they're trapped here. And it’s past time to fix that. Your family watches as you grab the book about wishcraft from the shelf and flip it open, searching for answers.

◉ “What do you have there Siffrin?”

✦ “A book on wishcraft”

...Oh they probably want to know why your looking into it. Hm.

✦ “… It’s likely how the king got the power over timecraft.”

▲ “Oh Crab!”

◉ “T-That seems important!!”

◆ “Mind if we take a look?”

They can’t read it but they don’t know that. So you just show them the book. As expected, they look at it frustrated, before handing it back.

✿ “Those were bad letters.”

◆ “Honestly surprised you can even read it.”

Perhaps you should go into detail. They might have insights.

✦ “I’ll translate, and explain. Take a seat.”

▲ “Awfully serious huh? “

◉ “Reminds me of the teachers here… I guess that makes this an extra class!”

You nod. Teacher angle makes sense. You’re a little tired to make all the normal expressions, but you’re frankly excited to teach this again! Properly this time!

✿ “Do we have to? I don’t want to do school again.”

✦ “You sure? You’d learn how to do real miracles. But I guess if you aren’t interested...”

✿ “I am now very intepid.”

◆ “Interested.”

✿ “That.”

▲ “Wait, hold on a second, you said actual miracles?”

You give Isa a grin. You have everyone's interest!

✦ “Take your seats, and we can begin.”

They sit down around the nearby table, while you skim the book quickly to make sure you’re ready.

◆ “Very well, professor Siffrin. Whenever you please.”

Alright. Best start with the basics first.

✦ “Now then. Wishcraft is, as the name implies, the ability to craft with wishes. Specifically, it is the art of turning raw belief in a desire into real force by drawing from elsewhere. This is done through any number of rituals, which help translate and amplify your intentions to the stars in the night sky. Then, your will to see it done sways them into granting that desire.”

▲ “The stars? They can do that?”

Ah, you should explain this again. You briefly explain the stars, other worlds, their craft energy, and so on.

◉ “Wow, that’s… So, every time we make a wish, we’re taking from hundreds of other people?!?”

✦ “Billions, but... No, it’s more complex then that. Like I said, We’re also a star to them, and they can draw from us. It’s more like sharing, on such a wide scale we can't tell. But more importantly, it’s normally borderline impossible to draw anything meaningful normally. That’s why rituals need to be designed for this.”

◆ “And what do these rituals involve?”

✦ “I’m glad you asked! Every star has affinities for certain actions, desires, objects, and so on. In order to contact several, you have to find stars close enough to each other that work together. But, since we don’t have a say in what these affinities are, the rituals can get… Unusual.”

✿ “I wanna know one! Tell us, tell us!”

Well, you know one like the back of your hand, so...

✦ “Well then, let’s go for something you’re familiar with. Favor trees.”

▲ “WAIT WHAT!?!”

◉ “THEY CAN GRANT WISHES?!?”

✦ “Yes! They can. It’s not the strongest ritual, but it can work small miracles. Like learning a skill effortlessly, giving good luck, or with strong desire, even stuff like transformations and small bits of magic-like abilities.”

▲ “I-It can’t be as simple as just clapping your hands can it? We would have known by now!”

✦ “Right. Visiting the tree is just one step. The actual ritual goes as such: First find a leaf that represents yourself, whisper the wish into the leaf a number of times significant to you, or just three if you want, fold it closed, and then set it loose in the wind.”

They all just take a second to process that.

✿ “That’s so weird.”

◉ “Kinda complicated. And nothing like what we were taught…”

You feel a little annoyed at that, for some inexplicable reason.

✦ “Hey, designing rituals is tricky. Finding a specific combination of stars that even respond to favor trees took MONTHS of work, and after that you just have to work with what’s available to make something even doable at all. The fact there even IS one is a borderline miracle.”

◆ “No need to get upset Siffrin. It’s not like you designed it.”

… Wait

… Oh. That’s why it’s so clear in Siffrin’s memory. And why you know so much about this from them.

...AND they could tell from your silence.

◉ “...Oh Change.”

✦ “I tried, okay?”

▲ “Hey it’s a good ritual, you did your best.”

✿ “Yeah, but why’d you never tell us! I would’ve totally used it yesterday!”

✦ “...I forgot.”

They have a bit of a chuckle at that. Oh stars, that’s really embarrassing…

Siffrin wanted it to be a gift for their neighboring country. You barely even remembered it. It would have been the perfect thing to share.

◆ “So, these rituals contact the stars. But that leaves me with a few questions. For example, how do they make sure it goes to the wish, and not something else? And what about contradictions, such as if two people wish for opposing things? And also, what kind of ritual did the king use for their powers? Is there a way to disrupt it?”

Huh. You can’t quite remember. But it seems important. You start flipping through the pages…

✦ “Hm… Not getting much. It seems those first few points are handled by something called an Arcanum, but it doesn’t mention much about them. And this book doesn’t actually list many rituals, more just how Wishcraft works.”

◉ “Then we should keep an eye out! I’m kind of invested now!”

✿ “I really wanna know more magic stuff!”

You nod, and everyone gets up. Alright. That’s a new insight! You might have talked a LOT there, but the recap was important, for them and you both. The headache is mild, since you were mostly reading for that knowledge. Worth it.

And it served as a bit of a distraction. The reality of you being in the house suddenly comes back to you in full force. Right. You have to keep them safe till the next book. Now you need to make extra sure you don’t loop until the end, or else you will have to do all that over again.

You walk out the door, and see a sadness. NO. You sing, and it rips itself apart. You stab it for good measure, before the others even get out the door.

◆ “...Gems, that never gets any less unsettling.”

You hear Isa whisper under their breath.

▲ “(Back to cold Sif, I guess… Hope their okay.)”

...Oh. You… haven't been putting effort into being expressive lately, have you…

...It’s fine. Save your energy for the parts that matter. Even if you have to go a bit monster in between.

>>>

Second floor. You ended up having that talk at that diary in the library, and… let them know that that’s where you, and wishcraft come from. It felt important to mention this time.

It was. Nice, how they comforted you afterwards. But, you assured them it was fine and moved on. You can’t accept comfort for that. They’d never forgive you if they found out the truth. No one would.

Still, you made your way to the secret library. And searched the shelves for that book. You hope it has what you need… Perfect!

✦ “Guess what I found! A book on constellations, their rituals, and it has a section discussing Arcanums!”

▲ “CRAB Yeah!”

◉ “Yes! Please, tell us all you can!”

✿ “I wanna know if there’s any magic wish stuff I can do!”

◆ “Yes, if you would be so kind?”

You nod, and start skimming through… Hm. This is rather interesting.

✦ “Okay, so first off, the Arcanum is a construct of sort, that helps focus a specific constellation to our world. But it also says here it… ‘Puts wishes in the hands of the patron star’.”

◆ “What does that mean?”

✦ “Can’t see what this stars name is, gives me a headache trying but… Apparently they act as some kind of. Controlling force? They sort of manage the wishes, make sure they go right.”

Wait, something catches your eye.

✦ “Apparently this involves fixing contradictions, increasing efficiency, and… even merging similar wishes together?”

▲ “Huh. That makes sense. If a bunch of people want the same thing, it makes sense to just bundle it into one.”

… That might be it. Your wish wouldn’t have done this, but if it got mixed into another, bigger wish, then maybe THAT is what’s causing this? But what wish could be doing that… What wish could have enough power to repeatedly turn back time?

◆ “Interesting. Still, if this Arcanum is important to the efficiency, then disrupting it would weaken the king, yes?”

✦ “Maybe? But unless he made it himself, it’s probably back on the island. Still, a wish this intense typically comes with a caveat or two.”

◉ “… Is there a way to check that?”

Hm. That would be useful. You skim through the pages a bit.

✦ “Apparently if we can find an Orrery, they come with ways to trace wishcraft to their constellations. I’ll take the book with us in case we find one, and can cross reference.”

▲ “Sounds like a plan!”

✿ “...Okay, that’s cool and all, but can we get another cool magic ritual?”

Oh yeah, fair, that would be nice! You flip through the pages, seeing if you can find anything interesting...

✦ “Let’s see… Oh, here’s an interesting one. Who here knows how to make a paper crane?”

Nobody except Odile raises their hand.

✿ “...You better teach me, Dile.”

◆ “Sure. Now then, what do you do with them?”

✦ “Apparently, if you successfully fold one thousand paper cranes consecutively, without tearing or damaging a single one, and whisper your wish into each one as you do, on the final one, your wish will be granted.”

◉ “That sounds… Difficult.”

✦ “Maybe, but this is a strong wish! It can do some crazy things. Stuff normally impossible. Like learning a complex skill instantly, Create things from nothing, Gain the power to control the elements, and so on.”

✿ “… I am SO gonna do this one.”

✦ “Interested to see you try! Let me see if I can find another… Oh hey, here’s the favor tree one! Discovered by-”

You freeze in place. That. That can’t be right. You can barely stand straight.

◉ “Siffrin! A-Are you alright?!?”

As you stumble, Isa grabs you. Holds you upright.

That...That was Siffrin?!? You… You killed… You pretended to be… You can’t breathe…

▲ “Sif! Take deep breathes, buddy, in and out, like you always do, come on.”

You-! You-! You…. In and Out. In. And out. In. and. Out.

You're still shaking. You can’t… You absolute monster. You can’t believe….

✿ “What’s wrong Frin? What scared you like that!”

✦ “It-It’s nothing! Just… M-Might have been some backlash from… memory stuff! It’s fine! It’s fine.”

Odile looks at you suspiciously.

✦ “…Just... shouldn't have read about myself... I’ll hold onto the book for now, but I think we’ll save reading until relevant.”

Your family reluctantly accepts, and you start to put yourself together. Those words burning in your mind.

You’d known Siffrin was important, but you never had any idea it was anything more then maybe some notoriety in a field.

If you had known, you’d never have pretended to be him. Masqueraded as him. Dragged his corpse around as a common traveler. Let the scant few survivors you’ve met, even if only in the depths of their subconscious, think that he was still alive...

Discovered by Crown Prince, Siffrin Polaris.

… You really are an absolute monster.

>>>

You are on the third floor. Your family is a little nervous, since you’ve been a little tense since the secret library. And have been taking that tension out on the sadnesses. You’ve started getting a little creative with how you make them kill each other or themselves, and aren’t exactly letting them run away. Or at least, if they do, you make sure they're dead within seconds of leaving line of sight. You don’t let it get in the way though, your family is as safe as always.

Oh. This door.

You’ve seen this odd, star shaped door before, but never gone in. Couldn’t read the text. But. You can now.

The name of the Star Blessed kings shall always be welcome.

… You don’t deserve to say it. To stain that name any more then you already have, by letting this twisted mimicry of it’s last member speak it.

But… There might be something important in there. It feels horrible but...You speak it, barely above your breath.

✦ “Polaris.”

The door opens.

▲ “Huh? Did you say something Sif?”

✦ “Don’t worry about it. Let’s head in.”

You walk in and. Oh! Guess you were right.

✦ “Well that’s lucky. Found our Orrery.”

▲ “Oh, okay! So that’s what that is.”

◉ “Hehe, it’s fun seeing Siffrin be the expert for once!”

✿ “It looks kinda weird. I don’t get it.”

◆ “Agreed. Care to show us how it works?”

You nod, and take a closer look. Even if you didn’t have Siffrin’s memories, mechanical stuff like this is your forte!

✦ “So, it can be used in two ways. The first is to map out how our world looks from the outside in, which is used for a lot of star based things. For reference, this ball here in the center is the sun, and this tiny ball here is where we live.”

✿ “WHAT!! That’s so small!! Why is the sun so big!”

✦ “It's actually scaled down quite a bit. It's much bigger, We’re just really far away from it. If it was accurate, with the sun at that size, the earth would be a pebble, and the distances would make this thing bigger then the entire house!"

▲ “That… Wow. That’s... Way bigger then I thought. I can't even picture that in my head.”

✦ “It puts things into perspective doesn’t it? We’re really just a tiny speck in the scale of everything.”

◉ “It’s a little overwhelming…”

✦ “Really? I find it comforting... Anyways! Let’s move on to the reason we need this… Hm…”

You look around a little bit, find a loose rock frozen in time, and place it against a scanner at the base.

The machine whirrs to life, spinning into the right position, matching when the constellation would be most visible. Then the room grows dark, as a misty circle of shadows forms around you all. You watch as you all go slightly transparent within the crafted illusion, and a series of lights is highlighted against the edge, lines connecting the phantom stars like dots.

▲ “CRAB!!!”

◉ “WHAT?!?”

◆ “GEMS!!!”

✿ “WOAH!!!”

You give them a second to adjust before explaining.

✦ “Look like this ones pretty fancy. Normally it’d just be a projection around it, but this is much cooler!”

You point to the highlighted stars. The whole is overall shaped like a heart with a dagger. There’s a lot of stars in it too!

✦ “There’s the constellation! Let’s see if it matches up to anything in here…”

▲ “This is actually really crabbing cool….”

◉ “It’s really beautiful!”

✿ “I can see through my hands!!”

You search through the book, going through the high power constellations first.

✦ “Oh, yeah, here it is, let’s see if there’s a caveat or something… Oh… That’s…”

◆ “Hm? What is it?”

This… Dear goodness. You knew the king was insane but this is just…

✦ “I’m going to give a warning ahead of time and say this ritual is… Gruesome. The king is clearly messed up to even attempt this.”

The others take a pause, look at the constellation, and nod. You take a deep breath in, and out.

✦ “Take a piece of iron. Mix your own blood, freshly spilled, into it’s metal every day for one hundred days. Then, on the one hundredth day, forge it into a dagger, and then pierce your own heart. Should you survive unaided from dawn till dusk, without removing the blade, it will fuse into your heart. So long as the blade remains and your heart still beats, you will be given the power to see your wish granted.”

…

Your family is left speechless.

◆ “...Gems alive…”

◉ “That’s horrible!”

▲ “How desperate was he?”

None of you know what to say to that.

✦ “… Guess that means killing him really is the only option.”

◉ “I… I guess.”

✿ “… But we know it’ll work, right?”

!?!?

✿ “I-If the magic stuff only works while his heart's working, then when he’s dead, it’s gonna stop, right? Everything will go back to normal, right?!”

Bonnie is on the edge of tears.

◆ “I… Yes, Boniface.”

✦ “Yeah. It will. And… If they're willing to go that far, then we don’t need to feel bad about it. Someone like that… Would kill to get his way.”

You know that from experience…. Can still remember how they…. You look at the constellation on the wall. Such a twisted ritual. But…

✦ “It says here… that this ritual was once used by the most loyal knights, dedicated to protecting the world itself. Only those willing to risk everything for the people. To bleed and die for the ones they care for..."

A faint memory scratches the back of your mind. Someone you looked up to?

✦ "It’s sick, seeing him twist something like that into this.”

Mirabelle looks at you, determined.

◉ “… We’ll put and end to it.”

...Monsters, twisting what few bits remain of your home into nightmares. The King. And You…

You’d best check your own wish, while you’re here. You place your hand against the monitor. And the device shifts and spins, highlighting the favor tree constellation. You suppose your wish IS involved then. But…

◆ “Checking your own wish, hm?… Why does it look… Cracked, I guess?”

It does. The stars and it’s patterns are leaving cracks on the display. They're also far brighter then it should be. That means it’s likely under considerable strain. Could be a result of the wish going wrong.

But more notably, the stars at the center seem the most strained, and no other stars are highlighted at all... Which means...

The wishes bundled into yours were also done at favor trees. Otherwise, other stars would have been at least somewhat highlighted. And the favor tree isn’t a strong constellation. To pull this kind of power from it, so focused, it would take an absurd amount of will. Which means it was done by many people. But what wish...

✦ “No idea. Still, that’s enough for now.”

That’s a lead to look into. You turn the device off, and the illusion fades.

▲ “Guess we learned a lot, huh?”

◉ “… We did, Didn’t we? Thank you Siffrin.”

You nod. You’re glad they were here to help with this…

But what now? You guess you need to figure out what people wished for at the favor trees. See if you can find a consistent theme, something that would work.

You guess it’s time to head to Dormont… You lead your family out of the room first though. You don’t want to die in a room like that.

◆ “...Before we go any further, Siffrin... Is there something you aren’t telling us?”

Huh?

▲ “Madame?”

◆ “You’ve been acting off since yesterday, have known how to navigate the house nearly on instinct, and clearly have far more understanding of the king and his methods then beforehand. I doubt you learned this Sadness control craft overnight, but it’s not the only thing that’s off. So. Mind telling us what’s happening?”

✦ “… Don’t worry about it, it’s fine.”

◆ “… Oh really. So, you’re not dealing with any timecraft yourself, HM?”

Oh. Oh no.

◆ “I had my suspicions for a while, but the way your wish looked back there practically confirms it. You’ve established that Wishcraft can alter time, and you’re practically an expert on that field. If anyone could craft a wish that could turn it back, it would be you.”

◉ “H-Huh?!?”

◆ “Which would explain a lot of things. Your sense of calm, even to traps, your knowledge of where each key in the entire house is, and several other things. How else would you know all this, unless you’ve done it before?”

▲ “That… would explain some things.”

◆ “I don’t mind secrets, but this is VERY important to us. And the fact it looks damaged means that something is wrong, correct? You even admitted a favor tree wish couldn’t do that. But Clearly yours wasn’t normal. So tell me. What. Is Happening?”

… Blind it. She’s angry again. Of course she is. You’ve kept them all trapped here for so long. You greedy monster. This is all your fault. It’s YOUR wish that went wrong.

✦ “… I’m sorry. I didn’t want to trap you all here….”

The others react in surprise, as you confirm her suspicions. And you turn towards a nearby tear.

✦ “...But it’s alright. I’ll fix it soon. And you won’t have to remember any of this.”

◆ “What?!?”

You unfurl your body, grabbing the tear before they can react.

《《《

…Blind it all. You HATE them being upset with you. You KNOW you messed up, seeing them also be upset at you is horrible. You’ve turned this final adventure into a horror story for them.

But it’s fine, right? You’re a very gentle monster. You won’t hurt them. You just need to help them out before you can’t keep up the lie. Then their story won’t be tainted. Then they can have their happy ending, never fearing the monster they escaped.

You just need to fix this, and it will be alright. You just need to fix this, and then they’ll be safe.

✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸

Oh, dear researcher, too clever for your own good~ But it doesn’t matter! This whole terrible affair will be over soon.

… Royalty, then? You guess that make sense. Where else would you have gotten the ability to summon something like yourself? Probably stole that power from his corpse in your gullet, back when you were Stardust. A power like that could only be used by those blessed by the red star.

… Hm. A little input from your patron. How interesting~ Guess that confirms it!…

You wonder what kind of nation it was, for their kings to have craft as bloody as that. Combined with that ritual Stardust found, and you’re getting the impression your former home had a turbulent history.

You guess it makes sense if you and Stardust came from there! Where else could such abominations be born?~

...Not that it matters in the end. You both are getting close. Close to finding the answer to this issue. Close to the ending. You can feel it.