#this is not at ALL how i thought this piece was gonna turn out

[uncannydevotion]

“ would you fall in love with me again? ”

a/n: someone sent in a request tht was for masky in relation to this song (epic the musical my beloved <3) but then it spiraled and i started thinking of other creepypastas w this song in mind and it became this so. so. so. yeah. i was gonna include more but i didn't wanna overwhelm myself so you only get these 3. weirdly turned into a sequel post for some of my other work?? somehow??

includes: masky, ticci toby, and homicidal liu.

warnings: purely self-indulgent, varying lengths, so many references to the song, mentions of murder, toby thinks of hurting the reader it's brief but idk heads up there, a lot of guilt and self-loathing, masky's part is technically a sequel to this post, and toby's part is vaguely a sequel to this post, lots of crying, many religious references in liu's part, attempted violence against reader in liu's part dw it's brief and not graphic, borderline unhealthy dependency in liu's part?? idk but the vibes are there i think.

MASKY

Two years. Two years had gone by since Slender wiped your memory of Masky. Two years since he was forced to leave you, forced to give up on the only thing that ever brought him happiness.

Two years, and you were standing right in front of him. And you remembered him. He doesn't know how, but you were looking at him with recognition in your eyes, his name falling from your lips.

His heart was racing so fast he thought he was dying, and his hands were shaking. It took everything in him to not run up to you, to not cling to you until he was certain you'd never leave.

He had been so sure that he'd never see you again. Truthfully, had he not been so utterly overjoyed seeing you, he would've been scared. When Slender finds out about this—and it will—it'll have you killed.

When he asked how you remembered, how you knew where he was, you smiled and told him that you didn't remember everything, just bits and pieces. But it had been enough to make you search him out, picking up on a trail he hadn't even realized he was leaving behind.

Honestly, Masky had dreamt of this moment far too many times. From the moment he left you behind, he would dream of reuniting with you. Dream of returning to your arms. It was hard to believe that this was real.

But he knew it was real.

Your touch felt far too warm to be fake as you gently took his mask off his face, revealing the tears staining his cheeks as he looked at you. He didn't even realize he was crying, he was just so caught up in the fact that he was with you.

Though his joy was short lived when he realized that this meant you knew what he was. A murderer, a cog in whatever machine Slender was running. He didn't deserve you. He didn't deserve your love, or your touch, or your smile.

He choked on his apology, barely able to get the words out as you pull him into a hug. He wants to tell you that you should just forget about him. Your life was probably easier with him gone, right? How could you ever fall in love with someone like him?

But all of his concerns seemed to go quiet with you here. Just this once... just this once he'll be selfish, and focus on the now.

TICCI TOBY

For as long as he can remember, Toby's felt as if he were missing something. He's never known what, but ever since Slender... took him in, it's felt as if a piece of him had disappeared. Or maybe he never felt whole? He... he can't remember.

Sometimes he'd have dreams. Dreams of his family, he thinks. A mom he can't remember, a father he murdered, a sister... did he have a sister? He doesn't know. He's not sure if he wants to know. But what he does know is that in some of his dreams, there's always someone else. Someone who isn't part of his family.

Someone who makes his heart ache when he wakes up. It's a confusing feeling, one that he finds himself loathing and clinging to at the same time. It's a feeling that reminds him that he's alive, at least.

A feeling he becomes unbearably aware of when he reunites with you in the forest. He was going to kill you. Wanted to kill you. But then you said his name, and so many memories came rushing back that he didn't know what to do.

So he scared you off.

But now, a few days after your less than friendly reunion, Toby wanted answers. You knew him, and he's sure he knew you. That's how he found himself lingering near the edge of the forest, hoping that maybe you'd come back.

And you must've wanted answers too, because you came back. You came back, and the conversation that followed was painfully awkward. He didn't apologize for trying to kill you. The urge was still there, really, and if you didn't have the answers he wanted, he'd probably give in to it.

According to you, you and Toby used to be friends. You had been in love with him, apparently, back when you were both younger. And strangely enough, Toby believed you. Something inside him told him he could trust you, something he didn't quite understand.

There was this fond expression on your face as you rambled off memories you had of him. He couldn't remember anything you were talking about, but it sounded familiar, and the look on your face had this tightness in his chest easing.

It was like he was home, in an odd way. He's not sure he's felt this content in a long time, just sitting here in the forest with you. There's this sick feeling of want in his chest as he looks at you, and it felt like he was going to suffocate because of it.

He doesn't even process the words he's spoken until you're looking at him with a shocked expression.

"Would you fall in love with me again?"

It was a stupid question. It was so fucking stupid, and he can't help but internally berate himself for asking it. How could you ever love him again? He tried killing you! He's killed more people than he can count, he's prone to violence, he's barely keeping himself together. How could you love someone like him?

But instead of you brushing the question off, you coax him into meeting your gaze, "I never stopped loving you."

And suddenly, the world didn't feel as lonely anymore.

HOMICIDAL LIU

Liu was never meant to fall in love with you, he thinks. You were like an angel, one he would never deserve. But meeting you, it made him realize that it was... okay to live, even just a little.

He's always been so caught up in hunting down Jeff, in trying to kill his own brother, that he's forgotten how to be a person. But you reminded him of that, like some sort of blessing from God.

He never knew what he was going to do once he finally killed his brother, but now he finds himself picturing a future with you. It seems a bit silly, especially since there's no telling whether or not he'd be able to deal with Jeff without dying himself, but...

It's a dream he finds himself thinking of often.

And Liu was, by no means, shy about his past with you. You knew everything, right down to the smallest little detail. The small things, like what his mother's favorite food was, and how he used to spend the weekends at his granddad's.

You knew everything. You knew that Liu was out to kill his brother, something he had admitted to you one night under the stars. He had been ashamed, the confession coming from him quietly, his hand tightly grasping yours, scared that you might shy away from him.

The fact that you didn't leave him meant everything, more than you'll ever know. You didn't condone murder, but you also understood that this was something he had to do. And you promised to be with him every step of the way.

Truly, a gift from God.

Which is why Liu could feel his head pounding, knife shaking in his hands. His chest was heaving, and he was only vaguely aware of the blood staining his clothes and skin as he stared down at the person he just murdered. Someone who tried to hurt you. He doesn't know the full story, all he knows if that their grip on you was too tight, the fear in your gaze making him see red.

He only really understands what he's done when he hears you saying his name. Tears were streaming down your face as you gently pried the knife out of his hand. Liu never killed. It was always Sully. Never him. Never. But this... this was him.

Liu just murdered someone. For you. Right in front of you. You... you witnessed it. Oh dear lord, what has he done? He barely registers the tears in his eyes, apologies spilling from his lips. He didn't apologize for committing the act, but he apologized for letting you see it.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. You didn't deserve to see that. You shouldn't--fuck--are you okay?"

There was a feeling of panic swelling up in his chest at the thought of you realizing how horrible of a person he truly is. The thought of you leaving had his throat closing up, and it was difficult trying to take in deep breaths. It was bad enough that he could feel Sully trying to take over, to spare him from the panic and stress.

Anything you were saying went unheard until he felt your hands cupping his cheek, forcing him to look at you. There was a look of determination in your eyes, and it's almost as if you knew where his thoughts were spiraling as you spoke.

"Nothing can make me leave you. I don't care if you kill thousands of people, I'd fall in love with you over and over again. I'm here, always."

And Liu can't help but cry. You were too good for him. He didn't deserve you. He'll never deserve you. But he clings to you.

God may never forgive him for his sins, but getting into Heaven didn't seem so important anymore as you pulled him into your arms.

[hyuniemyunie]

Jason todd x gn reader˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

doing his makeup!<3

sfw

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(ФωФ): hes sooooo wifey i love him sm

THIS IS FOR EVERYNYAN. MEN WITH MAKEUP. WOMEN WITH MAKEUP. NONBINARY PPL WITH MAKEUP.

men who do makeup..r..like. so hot. sorry..not sorry..

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･

Jason Todd was many things—an ex-Robin, a vigilante, a walking, talking trauma case—but a guy who let someone put makeup on him? That was where he drew the line.

At least, he had drawn the line. But you had this look in your eyes, that mischievous little sparkle that made it real hard to say no.

“Come on,” you pleaded, holding up a fluffy makeup brush like it was a weapon of mass persuasion. “Just let me do a little bit.”

Jason crossed his arms. “I’m not gonna look like a clown, am I?”

you gasped, placing a hand over your heart in fake offense. “How dare you. I would never make you look bad.”

He squinted at you. “Uh-huh.”

You scooted closer, eyes shining. “Please?”

Jason sighed, already feeling himself caving. “Fine. But if I look ridiculous, I’m making you watch all my shitty old Westerns shows with me.”

You grinned. “Deal.”

And that was how Jason Todd, Gotham’s brooding menace, ended up sitting on the edge of the bed while you happily went to work on his face.

At first, he felt stupid. you started with some primer and foundation, muttering about “undertones” and “coverage” while he sat there like an idiot. Then came the contouring—something about sharpening his cheekbones, which he thought was unnecessary because his cheekbones were already sharp enough to cut glass.

Then you moved to his eyes.

“This is where the magic happens,” you declared, pulling out an eyeshadow palette.

Jason groaned. “I swear to God, if you give me rainbow clown eyes—”

“Shhh,” you hushed him, dusting warm brown and reddish shades onto his lids.

Jason stayed quiet after that, mostly because the feeling of the brush against his skin was oddly relaxing. You blended, added a bit of shimmer at the inner corners, then pulled out the eyeliner.

“Keep still,” you warned.

Jason tried to keep still, but the moment you got close to his eye with that little black pen, his survival instincts kicked in.

You huffed. “You stare down thugs with guns on a nightly basis, but this is where you flinch?”

“It’s a reflex,” Jason grumbled.

you rolled your eyes and cupped his jaw, gently tilting his face. “Look up.”

He did. And maybe—just maybe—he liked the way you were touching him, all soft and careful like he was something delicate.

Once you finished the eyeliner, you moved to mascara. Jason blinked too hard the first time, getting some on his eyelid. You scolded him, wiped it off, and tried again.

Then came the final touch—the lips.

Jason narrowed his eyes as you picked up a tube of lipstick. “No bright red,” he warned.

You rolled your eyes. “I know. Trust me.”

You picked a deep, natural shade and carefully applied it, your thumb tilting his chin to keep him still. When you pulled back, you studied him, eyes wide with satisfaction.

“…Holy shit,” you muttered.

Jason frowned. “What?”

“You look really good.”

Jason snorted. “You’re supposed to say that. You did the makeup.”

“No, but like—really good.” You grabbed your phone and flipped the camera so he could see.

Jason expected to look ridiculous.

Instead…

Oh.

The guy in the reflection wasn’t some overgrown crime alley stray. His skin looked flawless, his cheekbones more defined, his blue eyes sharp. The eyeliner made them pop, the mascara darkened his lashes just enough, and the lip color—damn.

He turned his head slightly, raising a brow. He looked—

“…I look hot,” Jason muttered, genuinely surprised.

You burst out laughing. “I told you!”

Jason kept staring at himself, tilting his head like he was studying a piece of art. “…I look like I could scam rich men out of their fortunes.”

You snorted. “You totally could.”

Jason leaned closer to the mirror. “This is bullshit. Why does this work?”

You smirked, resting your chin on his shoulder. “Because, babe, I’m the one who did it.”

Jason gave you a sideways glance. “…So you’re saying if I let you do this every time, I could be the prettiest crime-fighting menace in Gotham?”

You grinned. “Oh, absolutely.”

Jason hummed. “Huh.”

He turned back to the mirror, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully.

“…So how do I take selfies?”

Jason stared at his reflection, turning his face slightly to the side, then back. His sharp jawline looked even sharper under the contour, the dark eyeliner made his blue eyes pop like something out of a painting, and the lip color—deep, natural, and just glossy enough—gave him a dangerous kind of charm.

You watched him with barely contained laughter, chin resting on his shoulder. Oh, he was eating this up.

“So,” you drawled, watching his expression shift between admiration and disbelief. “What do you think?”

Jason exhaled through his nose, tilting his head again like he was analyzing a priceless artifact.

“…I look like I scam rich men for a living,” he muttered.

You grinned. “And you’d be good at it.”

Jason let out a soft, amused scoff, still not looking away from the mirror. You could see the way his brain was working—turning over the fact that he, Jason Todd, could be pretty in a way he hadn’t really considered before.

His fingers brushed over his jaw. “This is bullshit.”

You snorted. “What’s bullshit? That I made you look hot?”

“That it works,” he grumbled, squinting at himself like the makeup had personally betrayed him. “I mean, I expected to look like some try-hard clown, not—” He gestured vaguely at his face. “—whatever this is.”

“A masterpiece?” you supplied helpfully.

Jason shot you a look, but there was no real bite to it. He was too busy admiring his reflection.

You grabbed your phone and flipped the camera, holding it up. “Wanna take some selfies?”

Jason hesitated. His instinct was probably to say no, but you could see the little flicker of consideration in his eyes.

“…If you send them to Dick, I’ll throw your phone off a building.”

“Duh,” you said, like that should’ve been obvious. “These are for us. For documentation. For history. For—”

Jason rolled his eyes, but you caught the way his lips twitched like he was fighting a smile.

“…Fine.”

You gasped dramatically. “Did the Jason Todd just agree to take selfies?”

“Shut up and take the damn picture.”

You beamed and held the phone up, making sure the lighting was just right before snapping a couple of shots. Jason barely even tried to pose, but he didn’t need to—his natural sharpness, the way he glanced sideways at the camera with that slight, lazy smirk, made him look effortlessly cool.

After a few shots, you checked the photos, grinning. “Okay, but you actually look so good.”

Jason leaned over, eyes scanning the images. His expression softened for just a second before he covered it up with faux nonchalance. “Yeah, yeah. You’re just saying that ‘cause you did the makeup.”

“No,” you said seriously, nudging his arm. “I mean it. You’re gorgeous, Jay.”

Jason blinked, caught off guard. He cleared his throat, looking away like you hadn’t just turned him into putty with one sentence. “…You’re so full of shit.”

You just grinned.

“Alright,” Jason sighed, stretching his arms above his head. “Time to wash this off before I start getting ideas.”

You gasped. “What kind of ideas?”

Jason smirked, standing up and flexing dramatically. “I dunno. Maybe I should start conning rich old ladies.”

“Oh my god.”

“I could be Gotham’s prettiest crime lord. Make Bruce’s life a living hell.”

You laughed, standing up with him. “I knew this would go to your head.”

Jason slung an arm around your shoulder, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Your fault, babe.”

And yeah—maybe it was your fault. But looking at Jason now, with his newfound appreciation for just how good he could look, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it.

Jason wasn’t one to fuss over things like makeup. Sure, it had turned out better than expected—hell, he’d even admit (to you, and only you) that he looked good—but after a few selfies and some teasing, he was ready to wash it off and go back to his usual, rugged, Gotham-worn self.

At least, that was the plan.

You, however, had different ideas.

Jason stood in front of the bathroom mirror, rolling up his sleeves as he turned the sink on. His reflection stared back at him—still sharp-jawed, still intense-eyed, but softened just a bit by the expertly blended makeup you’d applied. He reached for a towel when, suddenly—

SMOOCH.

A pair of lips landed on his cheek, warm and deliberate.

Jason froze. “What are you—”

SMOOCH. Another one, this time dangerously close to his jaw.

“Babe—”

SMOOCH. SMOOCH. SMOOCH.

He turned just in time for you to attack with another kiss, smacking your lips dramatically against his face. Jason stumbled back against the sink, hands bracing himself as you grabbed fistfuls of his shirt to keep him in place.

“Alright, alright!” he laughed, hands coming up to ward you off. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

You grinned up at him, smug as hell. “Just appreciating my work before it all goes to waste.”

Jason gave you a suspicious look, but when he wiped his cheek with the back of his hand—his eyes widened.

A bright red lipstick stain smeared across his knuckles.

He turned back to the mirror.

Oh, shit.

There were marks everywhere. Little red imprints covered his cheeks, his jawline, his nose, and—he rubbed his lips together, realizing you’d definitely gotten him there too. His mouth was slightly smudged, like he’d either been thoroughly kissed or had just finished robbing a bank with Harley Quinn.

Jason looked back at you, you looked way too pleased with yourself.

“Are you serious?” Jason groaned, rubbing at his face. The lipstick refused to budge.

“Very.” You crossed your arms, proud of your masterpiece. “I think it suits you.”

Jason ran a hand down his face. “I look like I got mauled by a very aggressive valentine.”

“You look loved,” you corrected sweetly, batting your lashes.

Jason exhaled through his nose, staring at you like he was this close to enacting revenge. Then, with zero warning, he grabbed you by the waist, hoisting you up onto the bathroom counter.

“Jay—”

You barely had time to react before he pressed his face all over yours—cheeks, nose, forehead, even down to your neck—rubbing against you like a damn cat.

You squealed, trying to push him off. “Jason, no—!”

“What?” he murmured, voice smug and low against your ear. “You don’t wanna match?”

You huffed, knowing damn well he was transferring all those lipstick marks onto your face. When he finally pulled back, he took a second to admire his work.

You glared at him. “You’re an ass.”

Jason smirked, running his thumb over your now-stained cheek. “You love me.”

You tried to look annoyed, but the way he was looking at you—smug, sure, but with that soft glint in his blue eyes—made it impossible to stay mad.

You sighed dramatically. “Yeah, yeah.”

Jason chuckled, leaning down to press a much gentler, slower kiss to your lips. This time, neither of you cared about the mess.

[imawholeassmood]

You're in my heart, you're in my soul

@somewillwin thank you for your adorable caitvi soulmates au.

part 1, I guess :) also on A03

As the pain radiates through her wrist up to her shoulder, the only thought in Vi’s head is she’s glad Powder’s not with her. Deckard’s cheap shot, hitting her with a bat to the head as she rounded the corner was low, even for him. Vi fought back as best she could, dazed from the headwound, but her disorientation had her missing more punches than she landed. She didn’t often stroll through the under city alone and tonight she was getting a tough reminder as to why that was.

But the headache she felt earlier and the overwhelming tension that pulled at her shoulders required her to get out and move her body. It was unlike anything she’d experienced before and, to her knowledge, completely unaccounted for. Vi didn’t get headaches and she certainly never felt her body tense the way it had earlier that day.

Another wrenching blow to the gut forces a breathy cough from Vi’s lungs as she hunches and heaves to fill her lungs. Deckard’s men are relentless with their attacks, kicking her while she’s down. This is it, she thinks as images of Powder, Mylo, and Claggor flash before her, I’m going to die.

***

“Caitlyn!” Cassandra’s voice comes out loud and strained as she rushes across the room to her unmoving daughter on the floor. “Tobias!” she shouts, dropping to the ground and grabbing Caitlyn into her arms. Caitlyn doesn’t respond to her mother’s panicked cries.

“Cassandra, what is i-“ Tobias’s calm demeanor disappears when he sees his wife and daughter. He rushes over to them on the floor and starts looking Caitlyn over. Blood gushes from an open wound on her head, bruises mar other parts of her face, and her wrist is twisted unnaturally. “I’ll call the hospital and let them know we’re on our way. Hold this here.” Tobias presses a handkerchief to Caitlyn’s head and waits for Cassandra to take over before rushing out of the room.

***

Claggor kicks the door to The Last Drop open and Mylo calls out for Vander. They’re holding Vi’s limp body between them.

“The sofa,” Vander says, pointing to the worn down and stained piece of furniture. Mylo and Claggor carry Vi across the room and ease her onto the torn fabric. “Keep Powder out of here,” Vander says, looking over Vi’s swollen and bruised face, her features unrecognizable. His fingers tremble only slightly as he slowly moves them to Vi’s throat, pressing two fingers against the skin under her jaw. He nearly bursts into tears when he finds a faint pulse.

Powder’s cries behind him sting in his chest as he hears his sons try their best to keep her away. She shouldn’t see her sister like this. None of them should. “I’m gonna get you help, kid,” he says, standing.

“I want to see Vi!” Powder says in a cry-yell when Vander slips into the back room with her and her brothers. Vander takes a deep breath to keep his emotions in check.

“I’m taking your sister to the hospital,” he says, “I need you all to stay here and look after each other. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

“I want to see her,” Powder says, face stained with tears.

“Powder,” Vander says, placing a hand on her shoulder, “you know these two can’t take care of themselves. Even though she’d never admit it, Vi would hate to see anything happen to them.” Powder sniffs and wipes her hand under her nose. “I know you want to see your sister,” Vander continues, “but right now I need you to take care of her brothers so I can take care of her. Ok?”

Powder gives a reluctant head nod. “That’s my girl. And you two,” Vander says, looking at Claggor and Mylo. He doesn’t have the words to thank them. They seem to understand his meaning as they each give him a nod of recognition. Before he slips out the door, he turns back to his kids. “I’ll be back as soon as I can to come get you all.”

***

“I don’t care what it costs, you save my daughter.”

“I assure you, Mrs. Kiramman,” the hospital administrator says in a neutral tone, “Caitlyn is receiving the best care. We’ve called in our specialists to tend to her.”

Tobias squeezes his arm around his wife’s waist. “Caitlyn’s doctors are the best in the hospital,” he reassures Cassandra.

Cool air from the night breezes around them as the hospital’s main doors open and a booming voice calls out. “My daughter needs help.”

Tobias and Cassandra turn to see the hulking figure and the unconscious girl in his arms. She looks so small against his large frame. Tobias sees them first, the wounds on the girl’s face and body. He moves over the man.

“What happened to her?” he asks, looking over Vi’s form.

“She was mugged. Are you a doctor?”

“I am, but I’m not on duty.”

“Then you’re no help to us.” Vander pushes past Tobias, stepping up to the administrator. “Please, she needs a doctor.”

The man eyes Vander and Vi, scanning them from head to toe, looking put-out by their presence. Vander, covered in sweat from the journey, and Vi in her torn clothes covered in blood and dirt certainly stand out next to buttoned up waistcoats and matching silk nightgowns of the Kirammans. Vander knew it would be a risk bringing Vi all the way to Piltover, but the hospitals are far superior to the ones in the under city. “I think you may be in the wrong hospital.”

“I’ll see her,” Tobias says.

“Dr. Kiramman, I don’t-“

“I insist.”

“Tobias, what are you?” Cassandra says, stepping up to her husband. He nods his head in Vi’s direction, just enough to get his wife to look. She scans the girl whose limbs dangle loosely in the large man’s arms, stopping at the familiar headwound. She turns back to her husband and says in a hushed voice, “I’ll make sure Caitlyn receives the best care. You take care of her.”

Tobias presses a kiss to Cassandra’s forehead before turning back to Vander.

“Follow me, Mister?”

“Vander.”

“Vander. I’m Tobias,” he says, pressing a palm to his chest. “Let’s get your daughter patched up.”

***

Vander sits in the lumpy hospital chair next to Vi’s bed as Tobias makes some checks of the machines. “Not that I’m not grateful for what you’ve done,” Vander says, “it just doesn’t seem like it’s enough for her wounds.”

Tobias turns to him with a soft smile on his lips. “I assure you, Vander,” he says, “your daughter’s received the best care in this hospital. She’s going to be ok.”

At that, Vander rises from his seat. “A few bandages and a breathing machine,” he says pointing to Vi and the tubes running from her mouth, “are hardly the best care. When did these specialists see her?”

Tobias, aiming to assuage the man twice his size, holds up his hands in surrender. “I apologize, allow me to explain. Shortly before you arrived, my wife, Cassandra, and I brought in our daughter, Caitlyn, after finding her unconscious on her bedroom floor. She looked like she’d been hit by a bus. We, understandably, had no idea what happened and brought her here where we have quite a bit of influence.” He keeps talking as Vander looks at him with a mix of confusion and impatience on his face. “Then you arrived with Vi here who shares remarkably similar injuries to Caitlyn’s. Now, I don’t know what you believe, but, um.”

“You think my Vi and your Caitlyn are?”

“I do,” Tobias said in earnest. “And if that’s the case, then Vi has been treated by the best doctors in this hospital, my wife has made sure of it.”

Vander scratches at his jaw, a playful smile toying at his lips. “Oh, Vi is gonna get a kick out of this.”

***

“Excuse me, Mister,” Cassandra pauses, unsure of herself with such casualty, “Vander?”

Vander rises from the chair to greet the woman still dressed in her silk nightgown who looks like she’s slept as much as Vander has over the past eighteen hours. He’s glad to know he’s not the only one this is taking a toll on, though he’s surprised to find the woman hasn’t managed to get ahold of a change of clothes, given her dress. Seeming to read Vanders mind, she tugs at the belt around her waistcoat to tighten the knot.

“I’m Cassandra, my husband has been treating your daughter.”

“Yes, come in. I, thank you. Both of you for what you’ve done for Vi.”

Cassandra stands in the doorway, looking uncertain about whether or not she should enter the room, despite Vander’s offer. She glances at Vi before ducking her head and bringing her attention back to Vander.

“I wanted to apologize for the way you and your daughter were treated when you first arrived. I’ve never been a fan of the administration here, but now I have something I can work with, and I assure you, I will be doing something about it.”

Vander isn’t sure what to make of that statement or what to say in response. “Ok,” is all he manages to get out in the awkward silence.

“I believe Tobias has made you aware of our suspicions about our girls?” Cassandra says, breaking the silence. Vander is relieved at the change of topic.

“Yes.”

“Yes. Well, I was thinking they might heal faster if they were nearer to each other,” Cassandra says. “I’d like to have Vi moved, if you’re ok with it.”

Vander looks at Vi who continues to lay in bed without any signs of regaining consciousness. The bruising and swelling of her face are in full effect and he’s not even sure she could open her eyes if she wanted. The air tube covering her nose and mouth, the saline drip attached to the back of her hand, and a slew of other wires running from her fragile body to various machines chokes Vander with the emotions he’s been holding back since Mylo and Claggor first dragged her into their home. At this point, he’d do anything for her to wake up.

“I don’t know much about how any of this works,” he says, turning back to Cassandra, “so I’ll follow your lead if you think it’ll help.”

***

Vi comes to with a pounding in her head and the inability to fully open her eyes. That’s probably a good thing if the brightness behind her swollen eyelids is any indicator to how brights the lights of the space she’s in are. Regardless, she tries to open her eyes anyway.

“Hey, kiddo,” she hears Vander’s rough voice say and feels his calloused hands cover one of her own. She doesn’t have enough strength or energy to adjust to his touch and when she tries to speak, she discovers her very dry mouth is covered by something that stops her. “I’ll get the doc,” Vander speaks again, his voice hiding a slight tremor. “See what we can do about that breather.”

Vi’s not sure how much time passes before she’s jostled awake again, this time her mouth free of the plastic contraption. Her eyes don’t seem to be working any better, but she makes out a blurry figure standing next to where she lays.

“Hi, Vi. I’m Dr. Kiramman.” The man’s voice is soft and surprisingly comforting. “It’s really great to see you awake.”

If Vi didn’t know any better, she’d say his voice shared the slight tremor she heard in Vander’s earlier.

“I’ve got some water here, if you’d like,” he continues. She nods, or at least, thinks she does. When the soft touch of a straw taps against her lips, she parts them and tries her best to get some of the liquid her parched mouth craves. It’s not as easy a task as it used to be and water dribbles down her chin.

“I’ll let Cassandra know.” Vander speaks again. She didn’t even know he was still in the room.

“Actually, Vander,” the man, Dr. Kiramman, says more casually than Vi would expect, “I think we should wait on that. Give Caitlyn a little more time.”

***

Vi wake again, she assumes some time later if her eyesight is anything to go by. She looks around with more ease than the first time she’d tried and her vision isn’t as blurry.

“Hello, again, Vi,” a soothing voice says. She turns to the man in the white coat, stepping up to her bedside. “It’s Dr. Kiramman. How are you feeling?”

“Like I fell off a bridge.”

The man chuckles. “I appreciate the honesty.”

“Vander?”

“Vander’s gone to check on your siblings. I told him I’d stay here with you until he got back.”

A million thoughts race through Vi’s head and she doesn’t know which question she wants to ask first. How long has she been here? How long has Vander been away from Powder? Why would the doctor offer to stay with her?

Her breaths quicken with the growing panic rising in her chest. It’s all a little too much for her right now.

“It’s ok, Vi,” Dr. Kiramman says, his voice calm. “You’re safe.”

Her eyes dart around the room, landing on a figure laying in a bed next to her, wires and machines matching her own.

Vi’s panic subsides, draining out of her as she looks at the girl. Dark hair is all she can make out around the bruising and breathing machine on her face, but she looks to be about Vi’s age.

“This is my daughter,” the man Vi’d forgotten was in the room with her says. “Caitlyn.” Vi turns back to him to see his eyes have glossed over as he tries to hold back tears. He clears his throat. “I do wish you’d have met under different circumstances.”

“What happened to her?” Vi rasps out, her throat suddenly dry as she turns back to look at Caitlyn’s unconscious form.

Dr. Kiramman is quiet for a long while. Vi hardly notices the silence as she takes in as much of Caitlyn’s features as she can. Vi is sure she’s the most beautiful girl she’s ever seen.

“What do you know about soulmates?” Dr. Kiramman finally says.

[juricel]

a/n: a request but i may or may not have accidentally posted the draft and deleted it in panic, im so sorry to the original requester if you see this, please correct me if i'm wrong with something! I didn't properly memorize the phrasing of the ask.

original ask: "may i request yan!shadow milk cookie with an immortal!f/o who keeps dying to him but the more they die they grow resilient and fight back?"

— yandere! shadow milk cookie x immortal! reader hcs

໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა ۪ ׂ CONTENT WARNING: manipulation, mild gore, murder, body horror, heavy obsessive and possessive behavior, kidnapping, body horror, emotional abuse, physical abuse, violence, unhealthy relationship, implied forced established relationship, implied mindbreak, potential ooc.

𖦁‎ shadow milk cookie adores every single part of you; your face, your personality, your appearance, your voice, your habits, everything—but oh, one thing that he loves about you most is when you are dead inside, aching, petrified, and falling apart.

𖦁‎ he doesn't mean to be cruel, really! it was meant to be a silly little experiment, a test of your immortality upon learning you were unable to die out of pure curiosity. However, when he crumbled you, his sweet dear, apart, oh he witnessed true beauty; you were a sight beyond manevolent, a bewitching visage, a pulchritudinously splendous piece of art. he, knelt in a puddle of hot, sweet blood, aching smile pitted against aching smile, caress your ichor-stained skin oh so gently, smudging the crimson over your now turning pale flesh—you were ravishing, organs lay splayed, tears prickling through the corner of eyes, red branching out across the sclera of your eyes, bloodied, bruised, and beneath /his/ mercy... ah, it was the illustrious form of beauty. he doesn't mean to get addicted, but oh, the sight of you... slope of stomach inwards, hip bones protruding through thin skin unnaturally, diaphragm and ribs sticking sickenly, and each bone present like a mountain range on the plateau of your pectorals; the way your scars turn beautiful, thrumming pink, and fade dark into a luscious shade of near-blue when cold; the vibrancy of your blood as it trickles down your tainted flesh... he just couldn't get enough of it! the more he thought of it, the more he got giddy.

𖦁‎ surely, you wouldn't mind him trying it out once more, don't you? it's not like you have a choice regardless! not when you're tied up and confined within his clutches. with a hand caressing your cheeks, he whispers sweet nothings, thumb stroking the contour of your cheekbones as he digs in his nails into the rake of your skin; cutting, mangling, butchering, dismembering, and lacerating your body as if it were a doll made to be withered—mutilating until what remains were cadaver. oh, you were just beyond adorable, weren't you? how can he not be a little mean to you when you were so endearing like this? the sight of you like this overwhelms him with desire, oh, how he craved to tear you apart, to bite and scratch your neck until leisons form and crimson seeps, to claw his way through your dermis until you scream in agony, blood staining his fingertips; a sight only he, himeslf could witness and he would make sure of that.

𖦁‎ he promises to be kind, to be gentle as he bashes your legs in, but he just couldn't help it! oh, but it's fine, isn't it? it's not like you were gonna crumble away from it all eternally! so he doesn't understand. why must you rebel against him? can't you see that he was doing this in an overwhelming exasperation of love for you? or was it because it was painful? oh, no it wasn't! you're just overreacting. it doesn't hurt. don't get him mistaken! he adores watching you struggle, takes fulfillment seeing you defiant even but when you manage to escape his grasp? oh, that is when his anger escalates.

𖦁 he's sorry, so so sorry! really, he's sorry, he won't kill you anymore, he promises! just don't leave from his sight ever again, in soft murmurs and thinly veiled bitter words he would whisper, tracing his bloodied fingers against the curve of your jaw, kissing away your vulgar defiance as he holds your body as stiff as a clay, unmoving and unresponsive, eyes unfocused.

a/n: not quite proud of this one, i hope it's fine, however! i do think this one is much more darker than my previous work but then again, it's a yandere work so it's probably alright.

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Shoto's First Kiss Chapter 9 Update

Okay so Shoto's First Kiss Chapter 9 is almosttttt done! I've just about finished writing it out but it's gonna need hella edits, so expect it to drop next weekend or Valentine's day weekend? Thanks for your patience here all! It will be a 40-50 page chapter. There's a lot to cover!!!

Posting a snippet of Chapter 9 below as a holdover - the plot is ofc subject to change! But want you to enjoy a lil dramaaaa while you wait! :)

“Well…” Toru says nervously into the phone.

“What?” Hitoshi says blankly, turning to you for an explanation about your friend’s uneasiness with that piece of the plan.

“So. Um. Mineta didn’t volunteer to be our distraction out of the kindness of his heart.” You say awkwardly as Hitoshi’s tired eyes bore into your own. “We promised him that he’d get to kiss me in exchange for his services as bait for Mr. Vlad.”

“Damn. Offering sexual favors in exchange for services rendered? You guys are way more hardcore than I thought.” Hitoshi actually looks impressed. “So hopefully Mineta didn’t say anything about that fun little bargain to Mr. King after he got caught. Sexual Quid Pro Quo is definitely grounds for some kind of legal action or punishment.”

The blood in your veins goes cold. Shit.

“But it was his idea!” Mina shrieks through the phone’s tiny speakers. You wince at the sound. You feel shaky like you might start crying again.

“Yeah but you all agreed to it. And Mineta held up his end of the bargain. This could be really bad if the school found out about it.”

Neito mouths something angrily on the screen and the corner of Hitoshi’s mouth quirks upwards fondly.

“Neito…you’re on mute, babe.” He says in that gravely voice of his.

Monoma quickly unmutes himself and repeats what he was saying:

“But it’s only a kiss! It’s not like we promised Y/N would sleep with him or anything!” He says, gesturing wildly. His face is a bit pink in response to Hitoshi’s using such an unexpected term of endearment.

“It doesn’t matter…you still made a trade of a physical favor for a service. I don’t know what kind of punishment they’d slap you with, but this sort of thing would definitely rub the UA administration the wrong way if they found out about it. Let’s just hope Mineta didn’t say anything too incriminating. I can stop by his dorm and ask him before I got to bed, if you’d like.” Hitoshi smirks. “I think he’s afraid of me, so I’d probably be the best person to do it.”

“Could you, please?” You say in a strained voice. Hitoshi looks over and sees how pale you’ve gone, he awkwardly pats your shoulder in what he must think is a reassuring way.

“Yeah, for sure. It’ll be fine. You’ll see.” He retracts his hand from your shoulder and gives you a thumbs up.

“Alright. I think we’ve mostly got our story straight. Don’t mention the alcohol. Don’t mention me needing to kiss Mineta. Don’t mention Hatsume. Don’t mention Spin The Bottle. Say we wanted to throw a game night to promote unity and bonding between Classes A and B. We good?” You quickly recap, counting off your fingers as you make each statement. “Dang, that’s a lot to keep track of.”

Everyone nods to confirm that they’re aligned (Toru doesn’t say anything to indicate that she’s not aligned, so you assume she’s invisibly nodding).

A message appears at the top of your phone screen from Shoto, a tiny preview of his text reads out in a bubble:

Shoto: You doing alright?

You quickly move to swipe the bubble away, hyperaware that Hitoshi can see any message that flashes across your screen. You quickly remind yourself that it’s not weird for your classmates to check up on you -  you’re one of the party ringmasters, after all! And the message Shoto had sent was completely innocent, so…

Another message from Shoto scrolls across the screen as Toru rattles off a list of questions for Hitoshi to ask Mineta. You try to swipe the message away but you accidentally pull up the text screen over your friend’s FaceTime faces.

Shoto: This sounds awful to say, but getting to sneak away with you to the janitor’s closet almost makes getting caught worth it.  

You swipe desperately to get the text screen to disappear and after a moment succeed. Toru is still speaking, saying something about Hatsume’s drones. You throw a terrified glance at Hitoshi’s direction. He’s looking at you, violet eyes wide with shock. His eyebrows are comically far up his forehead.

Oh yeah, he definitely just got a glance at Shoto’s text.

Oh God. Now he knows.

“Alright, Hagakure.” Hitoshi quickly turns back to the screen and nods in agreement at whatever your friend is saying. His facial expression instantly falls back to neutral –his eyebrows relaxing and his eyes narrowing back to their usual lazy squint. You stare straight ahead and try to keep all of your blood from rushing to your face. You feel hot all over but in a bad way. You don’t know Hitoshi super well, but you know he’s a good person. He wouldn’t spill your biggest secret to the world, right?

Hitoshi seemingly ignores you as he continues talking into the FaceTime. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Alright, I’ll ask him all of that. I think we’re all on the same page – get a good night’s sleep everyone.”

Good nights are exchanged, and one by one your friends drop off the call. Hitoshi clicks off your phone so that the screen goes back. He slowly turns to you, his expression still uncharacteristically surprised.

His voice is as even and measured as ever when he says:

“Holy shit, Y/N. How long have you been fucking Shoto Todoroki?”

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

HAHAHAHAA Okay so yeah that's part of Chapter 9! I'll keep plugging away and hopefully will have it your way soon! For now, here's the rest of the series to catch up on <3

Shoto's First Kiss Series so far:

Part 1: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋

Part 2: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 2

Part 3: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 3

Part 4: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 4

Part 5: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 5

Part 6: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 6

Part 7: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 7

Part 8: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 8

XOXO,

Red Riot Unbreakable Heart ❤️

P.S. Here's the link to my 🔥Master List! 🔥 I just posted a new story feat. a super hot and mushy Touya Todoroki if you're into that sort of thing: Touya Todoroki: Sexy Uber Driver!? | Touya x Reader AU Imagine 🌶 💕

[trevengersprincess]

ℛ𝓊𝓁ℯ𝓇 ℴ𝒻 ℳ𝓎 ℋℯ𝒶𝓇𝓉

c.w: f!reader, obsession, dc, mention of kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome

a/n: heyyy I hope you enjoy this. I just...the song 'Ruler of My Heart' made me think of this. y'all should watch Alien Stage if you haven't. it's so good. the fic 'My Clematis' is based off one of the songs from Alien Stage. it will make sense when you read it after listening to the song. anyway, like I said, I hope you enjoy :))

w.c: ~ 1.2K

You should’ve never stayed. You should’ve left when you had the chance. But you did, and in the end? He managed to find you, knock you unconscious and take you to a place where no one could find you. How did you end up here? Tied up to a chair, a piece of duct tape covering your mouth, feet chained to the ground. How did this all happen? You went on one date and rejected him, thinking you two wouldn’t work out together because of your differences. And his reaction to the rejection? Take you and make you his. Make you understand that you belong to him and only him. Make you understand that you need him more than you know. The tears ran down your face, scared and confused out of your mind. He sat in front of you, stoic and not saying a thing as you thrashed around. Finally, you calm down, the tears stop streaming down your face as you look at him.

"Done with your little tantrum princess?" He asked, a cruel smirk on his lips. You don't say anything, not that you could anyway. The piece of tape was still on your lips. He stalked his way over to you gently caressing your cheek as he looked down at you.

"I'm gonna take the tape off, okay? Be a good girl for me and don't fight." He cooed and again, you didn't say anything. Even for a man who looked as cruel as he did, he gently took off the tape, afraid to hurt your precious skin. Once it was off, you didn't move still and he stepped back. "Much better."

"Let me go, please. We already talked about this. We just aren't good together." You say trying to reason with him to let you go. But all he did was stare at you. He turns away, walking out of the room leaving you as you screamed at him. No matter what, your screams were never heard and your face was everywhere on the news. Your family looked everywhere for you. Wanting you safe and at home but they couldn't find a lead on you. But why was he so hung up on you? What made you so special that he just had to kidnap you and make you his?

He went up to a secret room of his home, unlocking the door and flicking the lights on. On the walls, pictures of every angle of you, not a single photo missed your beauty. The room was full of photos of you, even ones from inside your apartment. He used to be the one that sent you mysterious gifts to your workplace and you never thought much of it. Taking the plushies and other items into your home where he had his hidden cameras. He had been watching you since you were teens, the day after you helped him. It was a day he would never forgot. You were the only girl to not be afraid of him and that moment, you had captured his heart. He was determined to make you his.

His cameras were now on you, in his basement as you screamed and cried. Still tied to the chair thrashing around until the chair fell onto its side. You had fallen asleep from exhaustion and he just watched you sleep. Taking a photo from the wall, one of his favorites, and smiling at it. He kissed the photo before tracing over your face.

"You'll be mine, don't worry. I'll make sure of it." He placed the picture back onto his wall as he sighed and leaned back into his chair. He looked up, photos covering the ceiling. Of course they were much bigger so he could see them, and they were of your most intimate moments. Your lewd faces scattered across his ceiling had his pants feeling tight. But he needed to focus on how to make you his. 

The next day he checked on you, seeing you on your side from the chair falling over and asleep. He crouched next to you, caressing your cheek as you slowly stirred awake. He smiled genuinely at you as you glared at him.

"Let me go." You spat and he chuckled.

"Oh princess. We've got a long life ahead of us. Just give into me. Make me your god. I can give you everything that no one else can! No one will love you as much as I do. Make me, the ruler of your heart and you'll be the ruler of mine." He said, words sounding so convincing but you couldn't let yourself. He was dangerous and cruel. He doesn't know what love is. Right?

Slowly, he got you to trust him, and he could trust you. It had been years since your disappearance and your case with the police grew cold, resulting in closing it. They claimed you as still missing but dead. Your death was never finalized as your parents didn't want to believe it. And it was true, you weren't dead. You were simply with him, living in his home like it was your own. As you truly understood him, you fell for him. How could you not when he treated you like a queen? He cherished you, loved you, praised you. He knew everything about you. It was hard not to fall for him. He just...He was the one for you.

How did this all happen? How could you have fallen in love with your kidnapper? Any sane person would've taken the chance to escape once they earned that trust. But you?

"Go ahead. You want to leave, right? Go back home, reunite your family again? I won't stop you. The door is open for you. These past years were amazing with you, Y/N. I truly mean it when I say that I am madly in love with you. But if you really want to leave just how you begged me all those years ago, you can walk out that door. We can pretend none of this happened. You can even report me to the police if you want to." He said, voice slightly cracking in his words. 

What provoked this? The TV. You two watched a family reuniting on the screen and your small sigh seemed to have triggered him. Slowly, you walked towards the door. He didn't move from his spot, standing right where he was. His back was now facing you as you stood right at the door. Shutting it, tears fell down his cheeks. He thought you left and he was breaking down. He really did love you, but he loved you enough to stop this torture of keeping you locked away. He loved you enough to give your freedom back. A pair of gentle, soft hands cradled his face and he slowly opened his eyes, seeing you still there. Tears in your eyes from the words he said.

"I want to stay here with you. I don't want to be with that family. I want to be with you, with this family." You said as you hugged him tightly. Your words struck him, a deep blush crossing his cheeks, hearts practically in his eyes as he hugged you back tightly. When he pulled away from the hug, your cheeks were just as flushed and your eyes were the same. You both loved each other deeply, even if other people would see it as sick and twisted on how you two came together. But neither of you cared.

"I love you, Y/N L/N." He said.

"I love you, Haruchiyo Sanzu."

taglist: @reiners-milkbiddies @eroticdarling @nyxe9206 @yourefavsakura

wanna join the taglist? click here to go to the post and join! link

[just-some-random-blogger]

ME TRYNA GIVE YOUR FIC ALL THE HEARTS IN THE FUCKING WORLD

WHAT THE FUCK ALLLIEEEE WHAT THE FUCK

Unfortunately I have to requote your entire fic back to you I'm so sorry

“Quit squirming or I’m going to turn this constellation into a penis,” you griped, lifting your machine from Sirius’ leg.

HOW COULD YOU START YOUR FIC LIKE THIS????? HOW COULD YOU BE SO FUNNY AND WITTY AND ENDEARING AND WELL-WRITTEN WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU 😭😭😭😭😭😭🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚

“Sadist,” he hissed.

🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦 SO WHAT????

“Said the masochist that paid me to stab him a million times.”

EAT HIM UP. ALLIE ARE YOU CONVERTING ME INTO A SIRIUS GIRLIE????? I FEAR I FEAR HIM COS GART OLDMAN WAS SO SCARY TO ME IN THE FILMS I FEAR I FEAR I FEAR THE CHILD IN ME CAN SEE HIM IN MY MINDS EYES BUT THE WOMAN IN ME IS LIKE 🤪 I LIKE SCARY MEN NOW THO?????? AHHAHAHAHAAHNSIDDNNCJDKKD

He glanced down at you. “Are you flirting with me?”

🗣️AND🗣️WHAT🗣️IF🗣️I🗣️AM🗣️ 👏AND👏WHAT👏IF👏I👏AM👏 PUNK ASS LOSER WHAT THEN

Just then, the bell on the front door or you shop chimed. A tall man with sandy hair, dressed in jeans and thick sweater stood in the foyer, looking around at the art and plants strewn about. Given your profession, you immediately noticed his lack of tattoos, and the scars marring his hands and neck, one even stretching from his sharp jaw towards his nose.

Das my ride yall

“Moony!” Sirius called, jerking his leg and nearly inking himself.

YOU MEAN MY HUSBAND 🤬🤬 GET IT RIGHT BLACK ITS FIRST NAME MY LAST NAME HUSBAND. YOU DONT KNOW ANYTHING ALSO STOP FUCKING MOVING YOU LARVA YOU WORM

Then, his eyes flicked to you, a deep brown and sallow with exhaustion, but his beauty struck you like a blow, the lines of his face coalescing in a way that would make the great painters weep.

[VIOLENTLY SHAKING] I NEED TO WRAP HIM LIKE A BURRITO

Based on the countless stories Sirius had told you in the hours spent on your table, you surmised that this was Remus Lupin, his level-headed, long-suffering schoolmate.

Wrong. That's my chair. My comfy beefy bed. My warm biteable pillow. You fool. You imbecile. You misguided spirit

You sighed and set your machine aside. Clearly, you were taking a break.

😭😭😭😭😭😭🤚 IM CRYING YOU WRITE SO BEAUTIFULLY SO WELL SO AMAZING SO VIVID IM BITING YOUR BRAIN NOM NOM NOM

“Remus, this is y/n, the architect of my beauty,” Sirius said, gesturing grandly in your direction.

Sigh. Fine. Smash. Give me Sirius right now. I'm gonna eat him up

HO IS YOU A POET WHY YOU SPEAK LIKE THAT

“Well, then there’s no where to go but up,” he said with a cheeky wink, and your heart damn near leaped out of your mouth.

🤞 hoping it's up

“Moony wants to know if you can tattoo over scars,” Sirius said, earning a glare from Remus.

With my thighs????? I thought you'd never ask

“Really. I’ve tattooed over dozens of scars, cover-ups, or decorations. I’d love to work with you.” Merlin, did you just say that out loud? You needed to get it together; you were a professional.

WRONG YOU SHOULD HAVE JUMPED HIS BONES THE MOMENT YOW SAW HIM. WEAK PIECE OF SHIT 👎👎👎👎🍅🍅🍅🍅

“AHH YOU WITCH!” Sirius wailed.

🤨 says the witch?

“Bloody hell, I knew you two would get along. You’ve got twin scowls,” Sirius chuckled, leaning back against the table with his hands behind his head.

The fact you didn't do this sooner is criminal

“You’re really good,” he murmured, close enough that you could smell the wool of his sweater, the lingering notes of cinnamon and tea from his cologne. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks, Rem,”

❓❓❓❓❓ REM YOU JUST MET AND YOURE CALLING HIM REMMMMMMM SKSKSKKSKJSKSJSJSJSBSHSBSBSISKKSSK 🫡🫡🫡🫡 RIZZLER I FEAR

He was like an anxious thundercloud, tense and unsteady, and it made your chest tight with empathy.

AN ANXIOUS THUNDERCLOUD IS CRAZY WHAT RHE FUCK

He sat down, coiled in on himself despite his long limbs. Like he was afraid to take up too much space.

HES SO

“It's just—” he sighed, lifting his arm. He started to roll up his shirt sleeve, dexterous fingers folding the fabric neatly over itself, revealing inch after inch of his forearm. Lightly tanned and taut with lean muscle, veins tangling with the map of scars littering his skin.

Lick. ((I am nothing but a dog))

You tried to stay neutral, but you were practically salivating. He was so beautiful.

YOU AND ME BOTH SISTER IM GNAWING AT THE BARS OF ME ENCLOSURE 👹👹👹👹🤤🤤🤤🤤🫠🫠🫠🫠

Remus’ profile floated into your minds eye, sorrowful and striking, and your pen started to move of it’s own accord. His expression came to life under your hand, with long lashes and a crooked nose and that jagged scar.

🫵I🫵KNOW🫵WHAT🫵YOU🫵ARE🫵SIMMMPPPPP🫵

“Whatever you say, love,” he murmured, getting comfortable. Entirely oblivious to the way the petname made your thoughts turn to static.

“No wonder Sirius like this so much,” he said, tracing your face with his eyes. “Watching you work is fascinating.”

Sirius is also in love with me 😞 it's hard being THAT gworl 😣

“That does sound like Sirius,” he chuckled. “I like your focused face much more than that scowl.”

Sit on it. HUH WHO SAID THAT (me)

“Charming? Sweet? Clever?” You asked, glancing up at him. “Sirius talks about you like you hung the moon.”

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫SHE GETS ME YOU TELL HIM GIRLIE RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

You shrugged. “I figured you’d tell me if you felt comfortable. I’m not here to pry, just help.”

We love an emotionally intelligent girlie

Before leaving, he placed another appointment on your books for the following week, this time asking for a tree along the back of his calf, the roots spreading across the scaring he had there.

I dont remember what I wanted to say but I bet it was something inappropriate 🫦

Your sketchbook was filling with sketches of him, like you mind needed a place to spill your overflowing thoughts of him. With him, it was like every sound was heightened, every movement sharper, the very colors in the room more vibrant. Overwhelming in the best way.

🫵 SIMMMMMMMPPPPPPPPPP

He huffed a laugh, seeming a bit shy himself. “Yes ma’am.” In a fluid motion, he hooked his fingers under his sweater and tugged it overhead. His chest was tanned and lined with lean muscle, the kind built outdoors, not in the gym. The scaring was worse, deeper gauges in softer flesh, but you barely registered it, too busy staring at the half-healed red slash across his ribs.

😰😰😰😰😰😨😨😨😨😳😳😳😳😃😃😃🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵 SLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-

You were already starting to gather that Remus was…different. And you'd only met one other person with scars that matched his, and they also always cancelled around the full moon.

We got blue's clues up in here

Remus seemed to pick up on your dilemma and slowly spread his knees, allowing you to step between them. The heat of his body was intense, drawing you closer, but you swallowed your impulse, trying to focus instead on the moon and constellations you were mapping out.

🫵 WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-

“You smell nice,” he hummed, close enough that you felt his breath tickle the hair around your ear.

Eat me then 🙄

“Y’know, I probably shouldn’t say this, but I—I missed you the last two weeks.” Remus’ voice was low, just above a whisper, resonant like a drum in his chest. You wanted to wrap it around you like a blanket.

WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN SHOULDNT SAY THIS YOU BUFFOON YOU ABSOLUTE CANDLESTICK YOU NINNYHAMER YOU JOBBERNOWL

“Brilliant. I love them, and they’re very effective.” He waggled his eyebrows, and you and Remus rolled your eyes.

BROTHER EUGH WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEYRE VERY EFFECTIVE

James lifted his shirt, revealing a peak of his washboard abs, framed by a pair of sprawling antlers across his hip bones. You leaned a bit closer, checking for any faded spots or ink spreading.

FUCKING hell

Was he…jealous?

HE BETTER FUCKING BE

“Would you ever get a tattoo like that?” You asked, glancing up at him through your lashes.

LICKING HIM SO MUCH

You met his eyes. “You should give me a little more credit, Moony.”

She really said

And I respect her for it. She a bsddie

“It's risky, y’know, to flirt with your tattoo artist,” you murmured, grazing your fingers over the mostly healed goldenrod tattoo. “You've got a permanent reminder of me.”

She's so smart I love her I will shove my tongue down her throat. So hot. She is me. Holy shit am I a narcissist

He smirked, his hand sliding into the hair at the nape of your neck. “Well, the thing about werewolves…” he was so close, warm breath fanning across your lips. “We're a possessive sort, territorial. So having your mark on my skin…” he sighed, eyes dark with desire. “I'm finding it hard to hold myself back.”

WHAT THE FUCKING SHIT IS STOPPING YOU COS IT AINT FUCKING ME

Remus surged forward, lips colliding in a heady, toe-curling kiss. You immediately gave into him, his tongue caressing the seam of your mouth, dipping past your lips to taste you, claim you.

“Be gentle with me,” he grated, kissing along your cheek, down towards your throat. He craned your head back, grazing his teeth along your pulse, and you shivered. “I’m trying to savor this, not devour you.”

I CAN BE GENTLE BUT DONT GET IT TWISTED IVE BEEN TRYNA DEVOUR YOU THE MOMENT YOU WALKED IN FUCKER 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕

“Patience, dove,” he chastised affectionately, lifting his head. “Just be good for me, yeah? You’ll get what you want.”

Your brain emptied. Seeing this dominant side of Remus had you folding like origami. You nodded, letting him drag you in for another languid, bone-melting kiss.

✍️ FOLDED✍️LIKE✍️ORIGAMI✍️ IM CRYINGGGGGGG WHAT THE FUCKKKK 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 IM GOING TO CREAM MY PANTS ON HOW GOOD IT IS

“Tell me if you want me stop,” he said, shifting to kiss around your navel.

THE DAY I TELL YOU TO STOP THEY NEED TO PUT ME DOWN

“Don't stop. Please don't stop,” you pleaded, and he smiled against your hip before sucking the skin between his teeth, biting at your flesh just hard enough you make you keen.

🫠😃🤓🫨🤪😣😫👹 IM FINE THIS IS FINE. SHE PASSED THE TEST THAT IS THE ONLY CORRECT RESPONSE

The table shifted, rocking back a bit, and you looked past Remus' hair tangled in your fingers to his body. He was rocking his hips against the edge of the table, so turned on by the act of eating you out that he needed some relief.

IM GONNA GET PREGNANT IF YOU DONT STOP

“Rem, baby,” you whined, the sight dragging you that much closer to release. He glanced up at you, his eyes glazed and pussydrunk, and he whimpered against you.

I'm legally obligated to say I feel so bad for Britney I nearly use this gif but I don't like using people I don't kin as meme reactions and I love women so #freebritney

“Good fucking girl,” he growled, withdrawing his fingers to lap directly from you, savoring every drop of his efforts. “That's it, love. Relax f’me.” He brought you back to earth with his tongue, long, languid licks and kisses around your trembling center, across your inner thigh slung over his shoulder.

Little did he know I would give him 10000000000 babies. Fucking hell I need a blunt (don't smoke)

He made his way up your body, catching your words in a messy, top-lip kiss. “Got your mark all over me now, dove,” he purred, pecking your cheek with a cheeky grin.

HES INSANE ACTUALLY OK THX

“I’m, ah, a bit embarrassed to say that I did.” He straightened with a sheepish smile, revealing the dark spot leaking through his jeans.

YOU DONT EVEN KNOW YOU DONT EVEN KNOW YOU DONT EVEN KNOW

I WANT HIM SO BAD I WANT HIM SO BAD

HI ALLIE CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR 1000 FOLLOWERS I THINK ABSOLUTELY DESERVED BECAUSE YOUR WORK IS INCREDIBLE YOU ATE THAT UP SLAYYYYYYYYYYYYY

I............ I have never submitted a request, unless I was explicitly asked by the writer because ksjdjdjjjsjsj ME ASKING FOR SOMETHING?????? SNSJSJSJ ANYWAY I was like it should be fine because it's for your celebration SOOO hear me out. Remus Lupin ? IM GOING THRU A REMUS THING ? 1000 scars/1000 glances???? WHICHEVER IS FINE YOURE GONNA EAT WITH THAT

WEE OK BYE I LOVE YOU BYE

xxx

ilysm and I hope this only deepens your Remus fixation 🫶🏻 thank you so much for all of your love and support, I genuinely get excited when I see you pop up in my feed or notifs. my favorite hanni 🤍

1000 inked scars | R.L.

feat. Remus Lupin x tattooartist!reader

cw: mdni 18+, possessive!Remus, marking kink, oral (fem receiving), tattoo needles and tattooing, mentions of injury and scars, probably inaccurate representation of tattooing in the 70's, no war

1000 things prompt list (closes feb 1!) | masterlist

“Quit squirming or I’m going to turn this constellation into a penis,” you griped, lifting your machine from Sirius’ leg.

“Maybe if you didn’t handle that gun like a cudgel—”

You slapped his fresh tattoo and he yelped. “Pull yourself together, Black. You’re almost done.”

He groaned, slumping back onto the table with his arms slung over his head. “Sadist,” he hissed.

You resumed your tattooing, packing black ink to the map of stars. “Said the masochist that paid me to stab him a million times.”

He glanced down at you. “Are you flirting with me?”

You glared up at him.

Just then, the bell on the front door or you shop chimed. A tall man with sandy hair, dressed in jeans and thick sweater stood in the foyer, looking around at the art and plants strewn about. Given your profession, you immediately noticed his lack of tattoos, and the scars marring his hands and neck, one even stretching from his sharp jaw towards his nose.

“Moony!” Sirius called, jerking his leg and nearly inking himself.

“Sirius,” you bit, but he was already out of the chair.

“What’s—uh, what’s up, Pads?” the stranger, Moony?, said, glancing down at Sirius’ rolled up pant leg and the nearly finished tattoo on his calf. Then, his eyes flicked to you, a deep brown and sallow with exhaustion, but his beauty struck you like a blow, the lines of his face coalescing in a way that would make the great painters weep.

Based on the countless stories Sirius had told you in the hours spent on your table, you surmised that this was Remus Lupin, his level-headed, long-suffering schoolmate.

“I wanted you to meet my friend!” Sirius grabbed his by the elbow and dragged him towards your station.

You sighed and set your machine aside. Clearly, you were taking a break.

“Remus, this is y/n, the architect of my beauty,” Sirius said, gesturing grandly in your direction.

You slid off one of your gloves and extended it to Remus. “Pleasure. I’ve heard loads about you.”

“Oh?” Remus asked, shaking your hand with a light touch, his skin warm and a bit rough. “Terrible things, I wager?”

“The worst,” you chuckled, and the corner of his mouth twitched up into a half-smile.

“Well, then there’s no where to go but up,” he said with a cheeky wink, and your heart damn near leaped out of your mouth.

“I asked Moony to come hang out for the last bit of the tattoo so he could pick your brain,” Sirius said, hopping back up onto the table.

“Sirius—”

“Pick my brain about what?” You asked, pulling up a chair for Remus and sitting back onto your stool, putting on a fresh pair of gloves.

“I, uh—”

“Moony wants to know if you can tattoo over scars,” Sirius said, earning a glare from Remus.

“Absolutely!” you chirped, hoping to dispel Remus’ clear discomfort. “Just takes a few extra passes, but it shouldn’t be an issue.”

Remus gave you a small, grateful smile. “Really?”

“Really. I’ve tattooed over dozens of scars, cover-ups, or decorations. I’d love to work with you.” Merlin, did you just say that out loud? You needed to get it together; you were a professional.

“See, Moons? I told you!” Sirius propped his leg back up, and you fired up the machine. “And it doesn’t even hurt.”

You lowered the machine back to his leg, taking a few quick warm up strokes.

“AHH YOU WITCH!” Sirius wailed. You and Remus both jumped at his shouting, but he quickly dissolved into laughter. “Bloody hell, I knew you two would get along. You’ve got twin scowls,” Sirius chuckled, leaning back against the table with his hands behind his head.

You glanced at Remus, and he looked back at you. A flicker of connection flared between you, and heat rose in your cheeks. Quickly, you looked away, turning your attention back to Sirius’ tattoo.

“So, what are you thinking you want to get, Rem?” Sirius asked after a few moments of quiet, the buzzing of the machine filling the air.

Remus shrugged. “Hadn’t really thought about it. Just wanted to do…something.”

“Well, if you want, we can try and cover any up. But I find that people really get more out of going the decorative route,” you supplied, looking at Remus while you picked up more ink. “I can hand draw a few designs that flow with the scar, turn it into an art piece itself.”

Remus was quiet for a moment, contemplative, and Sirius gave you a knowing smile. “I think I might like that, yeah,” Remus said, his voice soft, almost awestruck. Like he’d never ever considered the possibility before.

As a tattoo artist, you were intimately aware of how much a person’s skin could impact their well being, scars in particular weighed heavily on many people’s spirit. Remus, it seemed, was no exception.

Sirius guided the conversation in another direction, giving Remus a chance to process the implications of what you offered, and you finished the tattoo half-an-hour later. While you were wiping it down, Remus hovered over you, looking down at the piece.

“You’re really good,” he murmured, close enough that you could smell the wool of his sweater, the lingering notes of cinnamon and tea from his cologne. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks, Rem,” you said, smiling up at him, and he smiled back, a flush creeping up his neck before he hurriedly stepped away.

You patched up Sirius and sent the boys on their way, an appointment for Remus on the books for the following week. All he’d given you to work with was placement, his forearm, and that he wanted something natural, like a plant.

Having no more appointments for the evening, you folded yourself into your studio couch with your sketchbook. You sketched a few things, lavender and roses and chamomile, but your fingers itched to draw something else. Remus’ profile floated into your minds eye, sorrowful and striking, and your pen started to move of it’s own accord. His expression came to life under your hand, with long lashes and a crooked nose and that jagged scar.

You clapped your sketchbook shut, sitting back with a sigh.

Next week couldn’t come quickly enough.

You paced around your shop, pouring over your sketch for Remus. You wanted it to be perfect for him, lest you scare him off a tattooing forever.

The door chimes, startling you out of your concentration, and Remus strode in, carrying a tray of drinks and a paper bag

“Morning!” You chirped, hugging your sketchbook to your chest.

“Morning,” he said, passing you one of the cups. “I asked Sirius what you liked, so if it's awful, blame him.”

Butterflies fluttered to life in your stomach. It wasn't unusual for clients to bring you coffee and food, but with Remus it felt…different.

“Oh! You didn't have to do that. Thank you, Remus,” you said, taking a sip. It was your favorite drink, and it's familiar warmth settled some of your nerves.

He gave you a small smile, but you could tell he was nervous. He set the bag on your desk. “I also brought some pastries. Sirius mentioned you like chocolate?”

“I love chocolate.” You beamed. “Come on in, we can sit over here and go over the design.”

Remus nodded, shirking his coat and following you over to the couch. He was like an anxious thundercloud, tense and unsteady, and it made your chest tight with empathy.

“How are you feeling?” You asked, patting the spot beside you.

He sat down, coiled in on himself despite his long limbs. Like he was afraid to take up too much space. “Ah, fine,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink. Earl gray, from the smell of it.

You arched a brow. “It's okay to be nervous, Rem,” you said. “But it's just us, and nothing is set in ink. If you change your mind, it's totally fine.”

“It's just—” he sighed, lifting his arm. He started to roll up his shirt sleeve, dexterous fingers folding the fabric neatly over itself, revealing inch after inch of his forearm. Lightly tanned and taut with lean muscle, veins tangling with the map of scars littering his skin.

He watched your face, gauging your reaction. You tried to stay neutral, but you were practically salivating. He was so beautiful.

“Are they too bad?” He asked, his voice rough with tension.

You met his brown eyes. “Not at all.” You pulled out your sketchbook, flipping to the page you had ear marked. “And it's perfect for what I sketched up.”

He managed a half-smile, some of the clouds disappearing from his aura, and accepted the sketchbook when you handed it to him. His eyes widened.

“Goldenrod,” you said, shifting closer to look at the sketch over his shoulder. “Used to treat pain.”

Remus traced his finger over the tangle of stems, the delicate florals. “I take it almost everyday,” he murmured, looking over at you, his eyes warm and full of something you couldn't quite place.

“So, what do you think?” You asked, your gazes lingering on one another.

“I think it's perfect,” he said, and you smiled, genuinely thrilled that he liked it.

“Okay, ready for me to start sketching?” You asked, and he nodded. You led him over to your station, already set up and waiting for him, and he hoped up onto the chair,, his long limbs dangling near to the floor. To break the quiet, you put on a muggle record, and Remus seemed to relax a bit, sipping on his tea and watching you putter around through dark lashes.

When you settled onto your stool, ink pen in hand, anxiety bloomed in your stomach. Remus was about to watch you draw on him. You’d drawn on hundreds of clients, but like everything else, with Remus it felt…different.

“It might tickle,” you warned, resting his arm where you wanted it, your fingertips tingling from the contact. “And try to stay very still.”

“Whatever you say, love,” he murmured, getting comfortable. Entirely oblivious to the way the petname made your thoughts turn to static.

You placed your sketchbook just beside his arm and made the first line, a quick stem arching alongside a scar stretching from wrist to elbow. Slowly, line after line, the sketch started to come together, flowing with the natural shape of his forearm and it’s scars. You got lost in the act, sinking into the labor of creating.

It wasn’t until Remus made a soft, approving hum in his throat that you peaked up him, breaking your focus. His eyes were almost sleepy, heavy-lidded and soft and the corners, a smile tugging at his lips.

“No wonder Sirius like this so much,” he said, tracing your face with his eyes. “Watching you work is fascinating.”

Heat roared to your cheeks. “Oh, I don’t—he seems more interested in teasing me than letting me work.”

“That does sound like Sirius,” he chuckled. “I like your focused face much more than that scowl.”

Merlin, what was happening to you? You felt like you could melt into your chair like a pile of pudding. Was he flirting with you? Or does he always talk like a romance book hero?

“How long have you guys known each other?” You asked, changing the subject and ducking back down to your work to hide your expression.

“Decade at least,” Remus said. “We met our first year at Hogwarts. Never thought I’d befriend the Sirius Black, but y’know, stranger things have happened.”

“Why’d you think that?”

Remus shrugged, the muttered a soft apology for moving. “Sirius is…Sirius, and I’m…”

“Charming? Sweet? Clever?” You asked, glancing up at him. “Sirius talks about you like you hung the moon.”

A flush creeped up his neck. “He’s dramatic.”

“And brutally honest,” you said, holding his gaze.

“Can I ask you something?” Now it was his turn to change the subject.

“Of course,” you said, capping your pen and setting it aside.

“Why haven’t you, ah, asked?” He glanced down at his scars, and you know what he was implying.

You shrugged. “I figured you’d tell me if you felt comfortable. I’m not here to pry, just help.”

His eyes flitted over your face, swallowing hard, and it seemed he was at a loss for words.

“Ready for ink?” You asked, giving him as reassuring of a smile as you could muster.

He exhaled, turning his wrist to inspect the design. “Ready.”

The rest of the appointment flew by, with Remus sitting like a stone while you tattooed him for close to four hours. You didn’t speak much, letting the music fill the empty air, but it was a comfortable silence, broken by the occasional question or annecdote. Remus seemed to appreciate being able to relax, and you were happy to give him a safe place for little while. Holding space for what this moment meant to him.

When you were finished, Remus stared at the tattoo in the mirror for a long time, and when he turned back for you to wrap it up, you could see tears collecting on his lower lashes.

"Thank you for this," he said, clearing his throat. "You were--this was amazing."

You knew he meant the art, but still, the praise made your heart glow all the same. "Of course, Remus. I'm glad I got to be the one to do this for you."

Before leaving, he placed another appointment on your books for the following week, this time asking for a tree along the back of his calf, the roots spreading across the scaring he had there.

After Remus’ second and third appointment, you noticed a change in him. He seemed more confident, a little more outspoken. He was coming to life before your eyes, and you were starting to see the fuller picture of the boy Sirius loved so much.

Already, you felt so close to him. Connected. And you were starting to miss him those days in between, his appointment becoming the highlight of your week. Your sketchbook was filling with sketches of him, like you mind needed a place to spill your overflowing thoughts of him. With him, it was like every sound was heightened, every movement sharper, the very colors in the room more vibrant. Overwhelming in the best way.

But then he cancelled your fourth appointment, citing illness, and you didn’t see him for two weeks. It wasn’t until he sent and owl requesting an appointment for this coming Friday that you finally felt like you could breathe.

Sorry again for cancelling. Are you free this Friday? Thinking a moon and stars on my chest, with those gorgeous clouds I saw in your sketchbook. Can’t wait, RL.

When Remus walked into your studio, you had to stop yourself from hugging him, you were so excited to see him. He looked tired, a little dimmer than the last time you saw him, but he greeted you with a warm smile and a bag of pastries, and that was all you needed.

You had him sit up on the table, busying yourself with the station in avoidance of the inevitable. He was going to have to take his shirt off. Your heart was palpitating just thinking about it.

“Alright, Rem. Strip for me,” you said, ripping the metaphorical bandaid off.

He huffed a laugh, seeming a bit shy himself. “Yes ma’am.” In a fluid motion, he hooked his fingers under his sweater and tugged it overhead. His chest was tanned and lined with lean muscle, the kind built outdoors, not in the gym. The scaring was worse, deeper gauges in softer flesh, but you barely registered it, too busy staring at the half-healed red slash across his ribs.

You gasped. “Rem, what happened?”

“Would you believe me if I said I was in a fight club?” He rubbed the back of his head, averting his eyes from yours.

“No, but you don’t have to tell me anything. Just that you’re alright,” you said, unable to mask the warble of concern in your voice. You were already starting to gather that Remus was…different. And you'd only met one other person with scars that matched his, and they also always cancelled around the full moon.

His eyes softened. “I’m alright, dove. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m the only one that gets to gauge you with weapons,” you huffed, grabbing up your sketching marker.

He barked a laugh, head tipping back on his shoulders. “Fair enough. Only you get to wound me permanently from now on.”

“Glad we reached an understanding.” You propped the sketchbook on the table and leaned in to start sketching. Remus sat up as straight as he could, resulting in your head hovering around his clavicle. But, with his long legs, you couldn’t get close enough.

Remus seemed to pick up on your dilemma and slowly spread his knees, allowing you to step between them. The heat of his body was intense, drawing you closer, but you swallowed your impulse, trying to focus instead on the moon and constellations you were mapping out.

As you drew, you started to shift closer, drawn in by the work and his proximity, the clean smell of his skin, until you were practically leaning against him.

“You smell nice,” he hummed, close enough that you felt his breath tickle the hair around your ear.

You nearly dropped the marker, but managed to keep your grip steady. “So do you,” you said, unable to come up with something clever.

“Y’know, I probably shouldn’t say this, but I—I missed you the last two weeks.” Remus’ voice was low, just above a whisper, resonant like a drum in his chest. You wanted to wrap it around you like a blanket.

You looked up at him, lips slightly parted in shock, so close you could brush your nose against his if you moved a hair closer. “You did?” You asked, certain that if pupils could turn into lovehearts, yours would be beaming out of your head like a cartoon.

His hand came up to caress you jaw, tentative and gentle. “Being with you is the best I’ve felt in ages,” he said, tilting your face a little closer to his. “I don’t—”

The bell to your studio rang loudly, and you jumped back from Remus’ hold, nearly tripping over your stool.

“Hey Moony! There’s my favorite artist!” James came plowing through, wrapping you up in a bearhug that squeezed the air from your lungs. “How are you, sweetness?”

“I’m good, Jamie,” you wheezed, and he set you back on your feet.

The boys clasped hands, a quick, almost automatic handshake.

“What are you doing here, Prongs?” Remus asked, trying and failing at not looking irritated.

“Sirius said you were getting some ink today so I figured I’d swing by and have you take a peak at how mine’s healing.”

“James, it’s been like six months. Your antlers healed fine,” you reminded him.

“You did his antlers?” Remus asked, a flicker of something dark passing through his eyes.

You nodded. “Yeah, you didn’t know?”

He shook his head, glancing sidelong at his friend.

“I suppose it might be time for a touch up. Let me see,” you sighed, crossing your arms over your chest.

James lifted his shirt, revealing a peak of his washboard abs, framed by a pair of sprawling antlers across his hip bones. You leaned a bit closer, checking for any faded spots or ink spreading.

“Looks perfect, Jamie. All good,” you said, sitting back on your stool, mildly impressed with yourself.

“Brilliant. I love them, and they’re very effective.” He waggled his eyebrows, and you and Remus rolled your eyes.

James hung out for another hour, chatting with Remus while you finished the sketch of the tattoo. Your bodies were just as close as before, but with James, you were forced to keep it strictly professional. But the proximity without being allowed to touch was melting your mind, making heat pool in your lower belly. You could feel every breath Remus took, feel the rumble of his voice in your chest, the warmth of his body mingling with yours.

It was maddening, and you could tell Remus was growing more impatient by the second, the muscles around his neck taught with tension, his fingers twitching against his thighs.

At one point, you laughed at one of James’ jokes and swatted at his chest, earning a smile from him. When you glanced back at Remus, his jaw was clenched tight, eyes glaring a hole into the drink in his hands.

Was he…jealous?

He had no right to be, but still, the thought of him being possessive made your heart rate quicken.

Finally, James left, leaving you and Remus alone in the simmering tension you'd built. He watched you closely as you returned to your station, prepping the tattoo machine.

“Would you ever get a tattoo like that?” You asked, glancing up at him through your lashes.

He leaned back on the seat, bracing his hands behind him. Showing off the lean expanse of his torso, the rugged look of him that stood in sharp juxtaposition to his style and personality. “Not sure I could pull it off.”

You scoffed, allowing him to see you peruse his body. “I strongly disagree.”

He chewed on his lower lip, a nervous habit. A flush started to spread across his chest, reaching towards his cheeks. “What would you suggest?” he asked, a sultry edge of his voice.

Unhurried, you stepped back between his legs, letting your fingertips graze along the valleys of his lower abdomen. “Perhaps a snake.” You traced the shape along his skin, his muscles tensing to stop himself from shivering. “Or ferns. Maybe a wolfs jaw—”

“A wolfs jaw?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow at you.

You met his eyes. “You should give me a little more credit, Moony.”

He blinked at you, clearly taken aback that you knew his secret. “You knew.”

“I do now. I've only seen scars like yours once before, on another werewolf. And with the nickname, your tattoo choices, being MIA on the full moon…it adds up.”

His eyes searched your face. “And you don't care?”

“Of course not. I care about you, not your affliction.” Your hands still lingered on his hips, like your skin was magnetized together, you couldn't seem to pull them apart.

Remus straightened, his hand coming up to cup your face again. “I haven't been able to stop thinking about you,” he breathed. “You’ve gotten under my skin, dove.”

“It's risky, y’know, to flirt with your tattoo artist,” you murmured, grazing your fingers over the mostly healed goldenrod tattoo. “You've got a permanent reminder of me.”

He smirked, his hand sliding into the hair at the nape of your neck. “Well, the thing about werewolves…” he was so close, warm breath fanning across your lips. “We're a possessive sort, territorial. So having your mark on my skin…” he sighed, eyes dark with desire. “I'm finding it hard to hold myself back.”

“Then don't,” you replied, heart in your throat.

Remus surged forward, lips colliding in a heady, toe-curling kiss. You immediately gave into him, his tongue caressing the seam of your mouth, dipping past your lips to taste you, claim you.

Your arms found their way around his neck, fingers digging into his feathery hair and tugging at the roots, drawing a low groan from his chest. He nipped at your lower lip in warning before soothing it with his tongue.

“Be gentle with me,” he grated, kissing along your cheek, down towards your throat. He craned your head back, grazing his teeth along your pulse, and you shivered. “I’m trying to savor this, not devour you.”

“Do you always keep yourself on such a tight leash?” You asked, breathless as he lapped at your skin, your thighs trembling with desire.

“Patience, dove,” he chastised affectionately, lifting his head. “Just be good for me, yeah? You’ll get what you want.”

Your brain emptied. Seeing this dominant side of Remus had you folding like origami. You nodded, letting him drag you in for another languid, bone-melting kiss.

Remus slid off the table without breaking the kiss, leaning down to scoop you up by the thighs in a fluid motion.

“Rem!” You gasped in surprise when he turned and dropped you onto the table he just vacated.

He leaned over you, one hand reaching down to recline the seat so you were laying back, legs on either side of his hips. His lips found your neck again, kissing and licking his way down while his hands pushed up the hem of your shirt, fingertips cool against your fevered skin.

“Tell me if you want me stop,” he said, shifting to kiss around your navel.

“Don't stop. Please don't stop,” you pleaded, and he smiled against your hip before sucking the skin between his teeth, biting at your flesh just hard enough you make you keen.

“I won't, love. I'm not going anywhere.” His fingers hooked into the waistband of your jeans, easing them down over your hips until they fell to the ground in a pile.

Your knees tried to pull together on instinct, the vulnerability making you flush, but his hands gripped your inner thighs, spreading you apart for him. You could tell he was in his element, something having loosened from his usually reserved demeanor. It felt like you were seeing him completely for the first time. No holds barred.

“Don't hide from me, pretty girl,” he cooed, lowering to his knees. “You're gorgeous.” He trailed kisses up your thigh, charting a tingling path until his nose grazed sodden panties, making your pussy flutter and clench. “Fuck, you smell divine,” he muttered before dragging his tongue over the thin fabric.

“Oh, god—Remus,” you moaned when he sucked on the fabric over your clit, pleasure blooming from your center. Your eyes rolled back, fingers tangling in his hair as he flicked your swelling bud with his tongue.

“So responsive,” he praised, pulling your panties aside with his middle finger. “You this sweet for all of your clients?”

You shook your head. ”I've never—fuck, baby.” Your words splintered into a cry as he eased his middle finger inside of you, your dripping entrance accepting him eagerly. He nudged your clit with his nose, making you cry out again.

“Just me?” His voice almost sounded like a purr, deeply pleased by your admission.

You nodded, urging him closer by the roots of his hair, and he practically growled.

He nipped at your thigh, overpowering your meager attempt easily. “Patience, remember?”

You whined. “Remus, please. Just wanna feel you.”

He withdrew his finger, then added a second, pumping you slowly. “I know, baby. I'm right here, I've got you.” His mouth found your clit again, his tongue circling around and around, and you arched off the table, moans spilling from your lips like a song.

Steadily, the fire built, with Remus' devoted attention pouring over you like gasoline. He moaned against you, eyes screwed shut when your pussy clenched around his fingers, teetering on the edge.

The table shifted, rocking back a bit, and you looked past Remus' hair tangled in your fingers to his body. He was rocking his hips against the edge of the table, so turned on by the act of eating you out that he needed some relief.

“Rem, baby,” you whined, the sight dragging you that much closer to release. He glanced up at you, his eyes glazed and pussydrunk, and he whimpered against you.

His deliberate motions got sloppier, greedier, as he rutted against the table. Losing control of himself, like his entire being was desperate to be inside of you.

With a final curl of his fingers, you toppled over the edge, coming with a cry loud enough to rattle the windows as relief crashed over you, cool water dousing the flames beneath your skin.

“Good fucking girl,” he growled, withdrawing his fingers to lap directly from you, savoring every drop of his efforts. “That's it, love. Relax f’me.” He brought you back to earth with his tongue, long, languid licks and kisses around your trembling center, across your inner thigh slung over his shoulder.

“Fuck, Remus,” you panted, slumping back against the table. “That was—”

He made his way up your body, catching your words in a messy, top-lip kiss. “Got your mark all over me now, dove,” he purred, pecking your cheek with a cheeky grin.

“What about…” you trailed off, fingers toying with his belt, unsure of what you were asking for him to fuck you, or mark you. Or both. All you knew was that you wanted him, badly, even more so with that post-orgasm clarity.

“Patience,” he replied, chuckling at the annoyed look you shot him. “Ready to finish up this tattoo?”

“But you didn't get to—”

“I’m, ah, a bit embarrassed to say that I did.” He straightened with a sheepish smile, revealing the dark spot leaking through his jeans.

Holy shit. You'd made him cum in his pants.

You surged up, throwing your arms around his neck and tugging him down in to a ravenous kiss. “Merlin, you're so fucking hot,” you mumbled against his mouth.

He grinned, breaking the kiss to nuzzle into your neck, hiding the flush you could see staining his ears. “Says the girl that made me cum without touching me,” he muttered, almost indignant.

“I’m not sorry,” you chuckled, sighing when he pressed his plush, kiss-swollen lips to your racing pulse.

“It's alright, I'll get even,” he teased, his teeth nipping at your skin.

“Is that a promise?”

“Most normal people would interpret it as a threat.” He picked his head up, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Well, I'm not normal people,” you replied.

“And thank Godric for that.” He kissed you again, all smiles and airy pecks.

Normal was never your style anyway.

[mewtillidae]

sharp angles and all.

[im-smart-i-swear]

can you remember being born? were you born at all

[raiiny-bay]

kiddos!

(used this old render as a ref)

[keeps-ache]

i think i tapped on the explore page by accident some minutes ago, i've been scrolling for a good sec like 'why is this on my dash. i don't know any of these people. what's going on' lmfsvh

[coconut530]

Bump in the Night & Sleeptober & Nevertober Day 24: Wrong Way Home & Saturate & Garden

Kayne design by @little-the-rat :)

[ayyponine]

not to be a milennial but harry potter and the prisoner of azkaban really is that bitch....

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

You know, I'm glad that some of us take the step to embrace things that we like even if they're "cringe" or "objectively bad"

But perhaps we could take the next step forward and embrace the idea of reading into books/shows/movies/etc even if they don't seem deep. Perhaps we could understand that the two kinds of media aren't either "shallow and meaningless so you're weird and brainrotted to read into it" or "incredibly and profoundly deep in every way so if you don't analyze every single angle of the thing then you're brainrotted". Some media is deeper than others, but all I propose is that no matter how deep it seems it's acceptable to dig into the thing and take the media seriously instead of just assuming that because of ____ thing (such as target audience or how cringe it is) the media not deep and will never be deep and everything good about it happened on accident.

[obsessionstate]

Ok so back on my opla hdjskajzhz bc I got the screaming out but I’m gonna watch it again later in jp BC I HEARD ITS THE OG VOICE ACTORS??? (jk screaming isn’t out)

ALSO

ZORO????? So slay

And they way him and sanji interact is fucking delicious, and him and nami too omg the zoro nami bonding time was so fucking bdsjksksbjsjd drinks drinks drinks

I’m not even mad that they changed some of the story so there could be more Koby like everything that got rearranged still FIT yk? Except buggy was way meaner and smarter until he got put in the sack then he went back to normal buggy lmfao

I’m disappointed in the length of both usopp and arlongs noses- I find it funny that usopps Jolly Roger nose was also shortened lol

Garp seems a lot meaner to luffy here tho- like they make him seem so mean in the flashback!

I’m ALSO sad about no hatchi or Django or the veggie kids

“Hey haircut” 🫠

We got so much more packed into this!!! Skypeia!!! There was more but I forgot already

Oh right the idea that Morgan is the one who “caught” kuro UGH

SO MANY of these actors were casted so freaking wellll

Idk their names but maybe I will for once in my life learn actors names

They had like everyone’s flashbacks too that was slay

No ace/sabo :<

WHICH IS FAIR like they weren’t part of romance dawn or anything

When garp called luffy stubborn I almost expected him to say “like your father” which idk why I thought that but ok

(Let’s not deny it tho dragon gave garp a hell of a hard time)

I want to watch it again alr it’s been like 30 minutes

Also the whole time buggy had his hat on I was thinking about how oda said his hair looks underneath it bc it’s fucking hilarious

[hauntingblue]

NAMI HAS TAKEN ACTION!!! LETSGOOOOO