#you notice the clown outfit. i notice the clown outfit

[simstoyourdismay]

yay 4 silly hats :D

hey who wants to wear a silly hat with me

>picrew

[outlying-hyppocrate]

watching the influencer on netflix and being ABSOLUTELY ON MY KNEES SCREAMING FOR QYOUNG I NEED HIS ENERGY I NEED HIM POINT FINAL only for them to fuck him over. qyoung they did you so so wrong </3

[luv-lock]

⸻ ʙ ᴇ ʟ ᴏ ᴠ ᴇ ᴅ ⸻

Pairing: Damien Wayne x Fem Reader Part 1

Headcanon: What if he become obsessed with Dick's girlfriend?

Notes: It's just a cute and funny headcanon and should not be taken seriously. Y/n obviously have no feeling for him and see him as a little brother. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

You’ve been dating Dick for a while, and naturally, this means you’re in Wayne Manor a lot. It’s not that you mind, but being around the Batfamily is like trying to survive a sitcom where every character is armed.

And then there’s Damien.

Oh, sweet, little, stabby Damien.

At first, he’s a little terror. He’s always scowling at you, calling you things like “Richard’s latest concubine” or “another unnecessary attachment.”

It’s fine. You ignore him. He’s a kid. A weird kid with ninja skills and a superiority complex, but a kid nonetheless.

But then something shifts.

You don’t know when it started—maybe it was the first time you helped Damian with his homework (because, let's face it, the kid can’t count past ten without losing his temper), or maybe it was the first time you accidentally brushed his hair aside while he was brooding on the roof. Either way, the moment you paid him just a little bit of attention, you sealed your fate.

Now Damien was everywhere. Not in an obvious “he’s following you” way—no, he was stealthier than that. He would conveniently show up whenever you visited the Wayne Manor, leaning against a doorframe, pretending he hadn’t been waiting there for 45 minutes.

“Oh, it’s you again. Why are you always lurking like a feral cat, Damien?” you’d tease, and he’d scowl, muttering about how you wouldn’t understand his “intellectual pursuits.”

He starts showing up wherever you are, uninvited. Oh, you’re in the kitchen trying to make breakfast? Guess who just landed behind you, silently hovering like a tiny, murderous shadow? "I see you're using the wrong knife to cut that," he says, smugly eyeing the blade, “and you should be cutting it at a 45-degree angle. Let me handle it.”

You look over, blink a few times, and try to avoid an aneurysm. "Damian, what—"

"I’m simply trying to prevent you from making mistakes," he interrupts, already taking the knife from your hand with the confidence of someone who’s never been told ‘no’ in their entire life. Yes, he did just steal your kitchen knife.

He goes from glaring at you across the dinner table to…well, staring at you.

It’s subtle at first, but you notice. You’ll catch his eyes lingering a little too long when you’re laughing with Dick, or feel him trailing after you when you wander the manor.

You think it’s cute. Like a kid with a crush on their babysitter.

When he insists on showing you his katana skills? You humor him. “Wow, Damien, you’re so talented!” you gush. Dick thinks you’re being nice. Damien thinks you’re in love.

When he critiques your relationship with Dick? “Grayson isn’t good enough for you. He’s reckless, emotionally stunted, and too busy pretending to be a circus clown to prioritize your needs.”

You laugh it off. “I’ll keep that in mind, Damien.”

Mistake #1. He interprets this as you agreeing with him.

When he starts bringing you tea? Complimenting your outfit choices? Sitting way too close to you during movie night?

“Aww, he’s opening up to me!” you think.

Damien is so dramatic about it. Every time Dick kisses you, hugs you, or just breathes in your direction, Damien is in the background like a Shakespearean villain.

He walks into the room, sees you cuddling with Dick, and immediately storms out with a loud, "Tt. Disgusting."

Alfred offers him cookies to calm him down. Damien refuses because he’s too furious to snack.

Mistake #2. You’re feeding the monster.

Damien moves from “weirdly attached” to “what the hell is happening” alarmingly fast.

He wasn’t subtle. He decided to prove his superiority over Dick by painting your portrait. At midnight.

“Damien,” you said when you caught him, holding a brush like he was Da Vinci reincarnated, “why are you painting me?”

“Because no one else can capture your essence,” he replied, dead serious.

You left before he could explain that he was also building a shrine in his closet.

He doesn’t interrupt your date... at first, not directly. He doesn’t need to. Damian’s signature passive-aggressive commentary will follow you home, like a ghost. "I saw you let Dick drive. You know his driving skills are subpar at best, right? I wouldn’t trust him with a paper airplane." You’re not even sure how he knew you two were driving, but the comment lands, and it cuts like a knife.

You try to confront him. “Damian, stop following me around like a puppy! You’re a child. A literal child. Go play with toys or something.”

Damian’s face twists with a mix of indignation and disgust. “I do not play with toys, Y/N. I train. Unlike some people.”

And the best part? Damian doesn't even hide his feelings for you. One night, after you and Dick have spent a quiet evening watching movies, Damian barges in, wearing his usual scowl, and just points at you. "I’ve decided," he declares dramatically. "You’re mine now."

You almost choke on your popcorn. "Excuse me??"

"That’s right. You’ve been chosen." He’s so serious, like this is some ancient prophecy he’s about to fulfill.

He starts referring to you as his beloved in casual conversation.

“Father, inform Grayson he’s no longer allowed to monopolize my beloved’s time.”

“Your what?!” Dick is confused.

At first, you thought it was a joke. “That’s cute, Damien, but I’m pretty sure you learned that from a Victorian novel.”

But he wasn’t joking. He never joked. He’d say it with all the seriousness of someone discussing global diplomacy. “One day, you’ll understand why I call you that, Beloved.”

One day, you accidentally called him a kid in front of everyone. “Relax, kiddo.”

You’d barely finished the sentence before he stormed off, muttering about how ungrateful you were for his “protection.”

Later, Alfred informed you that Damien spent the evening sulking on the roof. “It’s not sulking, Pennyworth. It’s strategizing.”

The moment Damien saw how you look at Dick, something inside him snapped. Why does Grayson get everything? he thought bitterly, watching from the shadows like a gremlin.

From then on, he started… intervening.

He’d interrupt your dates by calling Dick with “emergencies.” (“Richard, Gotham is on fire. I require your assistance.”)

Or other ways.

Dick: “Sorry I’m late. My motorcycle suddenly lost all its tires.”

You: “Wow, weird coincidence. Damien’s been in the garage all day.”

Damien innocently: “You should’ve asked me for a ride, beloved.”

He’d conveniently sit between you on the couch during movie nights, arms crossed, glaring at the screen like he wanted to kill the romantic lead just for existing.

Once, when Dick brought you flowers, Damien helpfully reminded you that roses often carried pests. You gave him a side-eye but thanked him for the warning.

One time, you catch him trying to slip his number into your phone.

“Damien, what are you doing?”

“Ensuring you can contact someone competent in emergencies.”

“That’s what Dick is for?”

“Grayson couldn’t competently fold a bedsheet.”

It all comes to a head when you find Damien casually trying to poison Dick.

You walk into the kitchen and there he is, sprinkling something suspicious into a smoothie.

“Damien, what the hell?”

He doesn’t even flinch. “It’s non-lethal. He’ll just feel weak enough to stay in bed for a few days. That way, we can spend quality time together.”

“QUALITY TIME?!”

He tilts his head, genuinely confused. “Don’t you want that?”

One day, you accidentally brought up his height. “Wow, Damien, have you grown an inch?”

That was it. That was the moment he vowed to become taller than Dick at any cost. He spent weeks researching growth supplements, adjusting his diet, and hanging upside down from the training bars in the Batcave.

Mistake #3. You don’t run immediately.

He “accidentally” breaks the bracelet Dick gave you (oops, it was an inferior material anyway).

Your favorite coffee cup disappears, and suddenly Damien has one just like it. "Strange coincidence, isn’t it?"

Damien starts “correcting” everything Dick tells you, from battle tactics to what kind of wine pairs best with dinner.

He trains Titus to growl whenever Dick comes near you. "Good boy, Titus. Show him who’s unworthy."

He steals your phone to block Dick’s number. "We should eliminate distractions."

You once made the mistake of jokingly calling him "cute," and now he’s convinced you’re secretly in love with him.

Dick, bless his heart, is completely oblivious.

“I think it’s great how well you and Damien are getting along,” he says, grinning like a golden retriever. Meanwhile, Damien is plotting your future wedding.

"I’m humoring her for your sake," Damien lies through his teeth while handing you a handmade sword engraved with your initials.

Damien constantly tries to prove he’s a better option than Dick:

“Richard is reckless. I, however, would never put you in harm’s way.” (Meanwhile, Damien drags you into an actual rooftop stakeout just so he can show off.)

“He can’t even cook. Did you know I can make authentic Middle Eastern cuisine?”

“You deserve someone who values you.”

You find a locked box in your room one day. Inside is a collection of…disturbingly Damien things.

A pressed flower you don’t remember receiving.

A strand of your hair.

A list titled “Reasons Why I’m Better Than Richard” (it’s very thorough).

A draft of a love letter in calligraphy that starts with “Dearest light of my tortured soul…”

You finally sit him down for a talk.

“Damien, you’re like a little brother to me.”

His expression doesn’t change. “I’m not your brother. Nor will I ever be.”

“Damien, you’re sweet, but—”

“I’m not sweet.”

“Okay, you’re terrifying, but you’re also 13.”

He stared at you, eyes narrowing. “I’ll wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“For you to realize that I’m the only one worthy of your affection.”

“Damien…”

“The age gap will be irrelevant in five years.”

“And when that day comes, I’ll be ready.”

When you reject him (because obviously), he tries to play it cool but fails miserably.

“Tt. I wasn’t serious anyway. Your taste is terrible.”

Proceeds to storm off, but not before stealing your scarf.

You find it later in his room draped over a practice dummy he definitely punched several times while muttering Dick’s name.

Bruce gets involved after Damien “accidentally” pushes Dick off a rooftop.

“You need therapy,” Bruce says bluntly.

“You’re just upset I succeeded where you failed,” Damien snaps back.

He does go to therapy but somehow convinces his therapist he’s completely normal. (Because of course he does.)

Alfred is the real MVP.

“Perhaps you’d like to consider not obsessing over your brother’s partner, Master Damien.”

“You don’t understand, Pennyworth. She needs to be protected.”

“From what, sir? A happy relationship?”

Everything become worse when Damien starts sparring with Dick for no reason other than to “test his worthiness.” You have to physically drag him away while Dick just stands there, confused and bleeding.

“He’s weak,” Damien hisses as you shove him into a chair.

“He’s your brother!”

“And yet, he’s undeserving.”

In the end, Damien doesn’t give up. He’s stubborn like that.

Part 2. Part 3.

𝒍𝒖𝒗-𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌 ☆ 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Santa, Baby

Santa!Art the Clown x F!Reader SMUT

Summary: There’s a Christmas Party at the club the reader works at. After bumping into a strange man in the streets, she spreads the word of the party.

cw: isn’t art his own warning??, choking, fingering, mentions of blood, oral f!receiving, multiple orgasms, mentions of kidnapping, biting, violence, p in v, hair pulling, scratching, blood play, overstimulation, creampie,

a/n: imma be real with yall, if you can’t handle watching the Terrifier movies don’t read fanfiction about Art bc tagging all this stuff in the warning was CRAZY lmao

~~~

It was the Saturday before Christmas.

Some people were out shopping, other’s having festive dinner with their loved ones. And then there was you. Getting dressed up in a slutty, red Santa-dress. It sat high upon your thighs, if you even attempted to bend over your matching red lacy underwear would be on full display.

Hoping the outfit would get you better tips. Maybe even a cute guy for you to play around with. Twirling Round in the mirror before leaving your house.

The weather was nice, so you opted to walk. You did not live that far away from work, sometimes the car was easier. But you could not lie that the thought of you turning heads on the street sent a thrill through you.

As you walked down the street, you bumped into a pale man wearing a Santa outfit. Knocking his black trash bag out of his grasp. White wig, red hat and jumpsuit, and big black shoes. Noticing his crooked nose and clown-like face paint. Rather peculiar for this time of year. Almost a mix of Halloween and Christmas.

His mouth formed an ‘O’ when your eyes met. Brows quickly furrowing down at you.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention,” you quickly apologized. Leaning down to pick up the bag for him. Your breasts peaking through the top of your tight dress. His eyes found themselves looking down your dress. Unable to deny his mind wandering to a perverted place. Not usually the type to feel this type of thing for people. Only desire he had being to kill and be covered in their blood. But something about you made a different part of him crave you.

“I like your costume,” you complimented, “There’s this Christmas Party down at the club if you’re interested.” You dug in your purse for one of the flyers. Giving it to him. Silently examining the pamphlet, his brows raised as he nodded. You both awkwardly stood on the sidewalk. Creepy smile never leaving the clown’s face. You continued to smile back at him, eyes looking around. “Silent type? How mysterious, I like it,” you tapped your fingers against his chest, “Hopefully I’ll see you there tonight, I’ve gotta get going. Bye!” You waved him off as you walked past him. His stiff body following you until he was facing the same direction. Eyes never leaving you. Peering at how your hips swayed and ass bounced in the dress.

What was wrong with him?

You headed down to the street the club was on. Waving at the bouncer, unable to stop himself from eye-fucking you in that dress. Booping him on the nose as you entered.

The club was decorated in all Christmas lights. A handful of fake trees placed along the floor. Everyone dressed up as different holiday characters. Elves, Snowmen, Reindeer, the whole nine yards. You were greeted by your happy coworkers as you took your place behind the bar. Preparing for the night of heavy drinkers ahead. Unable to get that clown out of your mind.

The Club was booming. Extremely loud Christmas remixes, people singing along and grinding together filled the scene. Strobing lights decorated the walls as the big projected screen behind the DJ showed clips of old Christmas movies without sound. It was difficult to hear your customers like this, good thing you could read lips.

There was finally a dry spell at the bar. Giving you time to stretch your neck and legs. Rolling your shoulders as you softly bobbed your head to the music. Taking a drink of water from your bottle. Almost every seat at the bar was taken. People hitting on each other, drinking away their sorrows, and some groups filled the seats. When a familiar face sat on your side of the bar. Loud garbage bag clanged against the floor. Causing you to jump out of your skin. Eyes peered over to the source.

White and Black face paint. It was the guy from the street. Your expression beamed at him. “Hey! You came by,” you reached a hand out to him in excitement. Wide smile painted across his face as he nodded at you. Still as silent as ever.

“I’m so glad you decided to come by. Still looking good in that Santa outfit I see,” you flirted. He snickered as he tucked his face into his shoulder, pretending that your words were embarrassing him. Hands coming up to wave off your compliment. Gesturing to your body, silently complimenting you.

You walked around the bar, hands tip-toeing up his arm, “Think you’re looking for a Mrs. Claus?”

The Clown tilted his head to the side. Eyes scanning your entire body, resting on your breasts with a devious smile. Looking up at you through his lashes, nodding slowly. You smiled at him.

“Can you cover me?” You called out to your coworker behind the bar. She gave a thumbs up as she poured a shot for a customer. You smiled giddily at him. His brows raising as he returned the look. He stood from his seat, towering over you. He was so tall. Long fingers wrapped around your wrist as he dragged you down a dark hallway. Garbage bag occasionally scraping the wall. He led you around as if he knew the place. Familiar with the proper hiding spots. Arousal pooled deep in your bones. Where his hand held your wrist ignited throughout your body.

He stopped in front of a dingy door to an abandoned bathroom. Opening it and allowing you in first. It was dark in the old bathroom. You never used this one, reserved for occasional hookups and doing lines for your coworkers. The mysterious clown flicked on the dimly yellow bulb. Pointing excitedly towards the old stained mirror. The words “Art Was Here” was written in some type of red. Assuming it was some lipstick.

“Is that your name?”

Art nodded happily. Jumping up and down and clapping. You leaned against the cold brick wall. Arms folded over your chest as you stared at him. Examining his tall figure. His loosely fitting Santa costume leaving most of him up to your imagination. Except for those hands. Long, strong fingers. Barely peaking out of the fingerless gloves he wore.

His expression dropped suddenly. Brows falling in a straight line over his eyes. Mouth sealed with a hint of a frown. You felt your heartbeat speed up. A small amount of fear taking over at his sudden mood change. His head tilted slightly, eyes tracing your body. Your eyes darted around the dark room unsure of what his next move was. Was he going to fuck you? Kill you? Maybe nothing at all.

Before you could open your mouth he lunged at you. Thick fingers wrapped around your throat. Strong grasp around your windpipe. Pulling every bit of air out of you. Your eyes widened at him. A smirk of mischief painting the corner of his mouth. Leaning forward as if he was going to kiss you, turning into a long stripe licked up your face. Shoulders bounced with silent laughter. Fingers tightening around your jugular. You could feel yourself struggling to breathe. Vision growing slightly blurry with each passing minute. Art’s fingers traced down your body, squeezing your breasts along the way. Hooked up under your dress. Raising his eyebrows in surprise when he felt your lacy panties soaking wet. Wagging his finger at you, partially shaming you for your arousal.

You gasped for air that you did not receive. Feeling woozy. Art’s finger going back down to your aching core, circling your clit with two fingers. A broken moan escaped your throat. Dark eyes stared at your face. Watching how it contorted when he would hit the spot you liked. Feeling his cock growing with the pathetic noises you made.

Just as you felt yourself about to faint, Art removed his hand from your neck. Your own hand replaced his as you began heaving for air. Sliding slightly down the wall, firmer against his fingers. He puckered his lip out mocking the tears that stained the corners of your eyes. Your moans were far louder now. Being able to fully express yourself and the harder feeling of his fingers. His dark eyes watched how your chest bounced with each moan you let out.

Art slipped his middle finger under your panties, sliding it into your soaked folds. Causing your body to buckle forward against him. Grabbing his shoulder for support as your legs grew shaky and weak. Emotionless eyes met yours. Face still and unmoving as you pleaded up at him with your doe eyes. Curling his finger while the others continue circling your clit. His name fell from you in a cry as you felt that familiar tightening in your lower abdomen.

He knew his way around the human body, that was for sure. Knowing all the right places to inflict pain or pleasure. Usually he enjoyed seeing the way people would desperately run from him, crying out in pain when he would strike them down. Loving the way blood and guts warmed up his hands. But here he was, keeping you in tact while still feeling your insides. Adoring the way your sensitive insides clamped around his finger. How your body begged for him to please it. Walls pulling him deeper into you. Still getting that same pleasure as he watched you cry out and cling to him. The way tears stained under your eyes and fingers dug into his skin pooling inside him. Feeling his own arousal begin growing in his oversized pants.

You began thrusting up and down on his fingers. Widening his eyes as he watched you chase your high with his fingers. Opting to slide another into you, curling and scraping against your insides. Grazing that spongey spot that sent electricity through you. Curiosity painted his expression now. With one final curl of fingers, you came undone around him. Walls fluttering and sucking in his fingers. Arousal leaking down his digits as he continued pumping into you. Your entire body began shaking as you dug your fingers into his shoulders, having to hold them both to stabilize yourself. Your face curled into the crook of his neck. Skin smelling of sweat and iron.

Art pushed you against the wall. Standing stiffly in front of you as you panted. Face red with post orgasm glow. Feeling your walls clamp around nothing now. Craving something more. A closed mouth smile morphed into a wicked grin, baring his stained teeth. Examining his fingers that had been inside you. Pulling them apart while they were still connected by your arousal, a slimey rope connecting them. Taking his fingers into his mouth, sucking the taste of you off them. Eyes rolling into the back of his head. Sucking them off with a pop.

Unable to deny that that did something for you. Your chest was tight as you looked his body up and down. Landing on the faint tent pitched in his pants.

The tall clown fell to his knees in front of you. Crawling over and throwing the front of your dress up. Staring at your ruined panties. Soaked lace sticking to your lips. His hand rubbed up your leg, with a tug of brute force ripping your panties off in one go. Cold air hitting your heated mound. He suddenly licked up into your pussy. Tongue dancing down the slit, lapping at the remainder of you. He took one of your legs and threw it over his shoulder, giving him better access to you.

Art ate you out like it was going to be his last meal. Sloppily, his tongue spread your folds while his hands held tightly into your thighs. His crooked nose bumping against your throbbing clit. Still overstimulated from your first orgasm. Knowing it would not take long for him to take you there again at this rate.

“Art, I’m going to cum again,” your voice was shaken.

He nodded aggressively, refusing to remove from your opening. He had found a new favorite taste. Unable to get enough of you. If he could, he would bottle your taste up and take it home with him. Or maybe even take you away with him. Lock you up in his warehouse so he could taste you whenever he wanted. He knew you would taste especially good when your period would come around. His two favorite flavors combined.

You began grinding down onto his face. Pushing his nose against your clit over and over. Chasing your secondary high, unsure how many more he would have you endure. Not really caring. If they all felt this good you would let him have you however he wanted. Unwinding on his face. Art pressed his tongue between your folds wanting to feel them contort against his it. You slid down the wall loosing yourself. Art held you up like it was no problem. A strange strength coming from him. Your eyes squinted shut momentarily trying to catch your breath.

Art continued licking until you subsided. Standing, his face covered in your juices. Oddly none of his makeup smudged. You had to find out where he bought his foundation. Hooded eyes gazed down at you. You looked so pathetic sliding into the floor in front of him. Tits rising as you panted. He pictured how your lungs looked expanding in your chest. Desire to rip you open filling his thoughts. Fading when he felt his cock throbbing.

Long digits reached out to help you to your feet. Releasing you and letting you tumble back, head hitting the cold brick. You winced when it started to ache. Silently he laughed and pointed at you. Miming you hitting your head. You scowled up at him. He definitely enjoyed your pain. Something you were too overstimulated to care about. He rolled his eyes at you when you did not laugh along with him, reaching his hand out again. Swirling his finger in a circle gesturing for you to try again.

Art pulled you flush against his chest. Stronger than anyone else you had ever been in contact with. Acting as if you weighed nothing. You fluttered your lashes up at him. Mouth hung open as you continued taking deep breaths in. Abruptly he turned you around, forcing you against the sink. Staring at him through the mirror. Watching how his hands massaged and stroked your torso in the reflection. His nose traveled from your shoulder up to your neck. Tongue coming out to lick at your throat. Pulling skin between his teeth as he sucked a deep purple bruise there. You moaned for him, loving the attention he gave to your skin. His hands gripped your chest, pulling your breasts out of your top. Cold fingertips pinched at your hardening bulbs. His eyes fixated on your chest in the mirror. Tongue traveling further up your neck until it ended behind your ear.

He was entranced by your body. Not ever taking the time to see how things changed when someone was sexually aroused. Being all too familiar with how the body acted with pure terror. Your fastening heart rate thumped against his hands. Feeling your pulse against his lips had his desires in overdrive. He could have devoured you right there. Smeared your blood all over the walls of this shit-hole bathroom. Fucked your bloodied mouth while you fought within an inch of your life to survive.

But that would not satisfy him.

Sure, your flesh ripped between his teeth would be nice. But hearing all the pathetic cries and moans you made for him was even better. The way you would whine his name was like music to his ears.

Art reached down, freeing his length from the confides of his red pants. He was swollen and leaking pre-cum. Pushing your back forward forcing you to bend over the sink. Holding yourself up with your hands as you held eye contact in the mirror. He kicked your legs apart further, making sure he could get into you. Grabbing his cock by the base and swirling it around your slick. Coating himself with you, testing the waters of how far he was willing to go. You were so warm and welcoming. He could always leave you out to dry. Just play around and never fuck you. But he needed his own release. And the way you whined his name when he dipped a little deeper his mind was made up.

Art slammed himself into you. Hands gripping your skirt upon your lower back. Watching the way your ass bounced against his cock. Wickedly grinning at the sight of him penetrating you. Tongue coming out to glaze his rotten teeth. Sound of your skin smacking mixed with your screaming moans was like music to his ears. He was relentless. Length hitting deep inside you. One of his hands tangled in your hair, arching your neck back to force you to watch in the mirror.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you called to him like a prayer each time he would sheath inside you. His long shaft stretched your entrance perfectly. You scrunched your face up and rolled your eyes back as he continued pounding into you. Mouth forming an ‘O’. Your insides spasmed around his cock as it filled you up. Art’s brows twitched with pleasure. His toothy grin was unwieldy.

His other hand gripped your ass. Nails breaking the skin as he clawed at your soft flesh. Loving how your crimson red painted your cheek. Collecting the blood on his finger tips and pressing them against your aching nub once again. Circling the sensitivity. Breath hitched in your throat as he leaned further into his grasp on your hair. Closing your eyes and screaming loudly for him. Feeling your orgasm approaching rapidly.

Art’s pace was brutal. Snapping his hips up into you. With each circle of fingers and flick of hips, you were seeing stars. Almost too drunk on cock to form sentences. Never imagining when you got dressed today your night would go like this. Lost in ecstasy of pleasure. Coil winding tighter and tighter in your stomach.

Fingers taking you to a place of pure hormonal bliss. Insides quaking and pulling him deeper. Art’s mouth shaped into an ‘O’ realizing you were cumming around his cock. Nodding with satisfaction as his dark eyes pierced into yours. Watching how drool fell out of your mouth and sweat rolled down your body.

Art pulled his fingers up, seeing the crimson red was now a softer pink. Shoving the combination of you into his mouth. Licking between his fingers like something from a porno. His shoulders relaxed as he continued fucking into you. Your entire body was shaking. Legs wobbled like they would give out on you any second.

His wet fingers rubbed at your chest. Tracing up and curling between your lips. Forcing their way into your mouth. Taking them like he wanted. He released his grip on your hair, planting the hand against your hip instead. Pinning you with his hips. Clearing chasing his own high now. Continuing to watch as he pumped his fingers into your mouth. Loving the sound of you gagging and slobbering. Feeling himself twitch inside you. His breathing picking up as he focused where he punctured you.

Watching how perfectly you sucked him in. Wanting to cum all inside you. Wanted you so filled with him you could barely walk. Knowing it would make you crave him forever. Addicted to the feeling of his seed inside you.

Hips pressed flush against yours. Shooting his white hot inside you. Coating your walls with his cum. Holding still so he could feel you milk him. He rolled his neck and leaned his head back, never having felt something this good. His chest pounded as he begged for air. Deep breaths filling his desperate lungs.

You slumped against the sink. Quivering arms and legs fighting to hold you up. Resting your head on your arms. Your cunt having been worked to its limit.

Art stood up straighter behind you. Flattening his suit down with his hands. Smiling at you in the mirror as he tucked his member back away. Waving his fingers at you.

You were unsure who this man was, but you never wanted to be apart from him.

~~~

[END]

// Thank you so much for reading! This is only my second time writing for Art, but I sure do love writing him. Expressing his mannerisms is so fun. If you have any requests for him, please send them my way! I look forward to future Fics! //

{tags}

@l0sercat ~ @tedi28 ~ @hyperfixated-clown ~ @papispam ~ @melaninatedhorrorqueen ~ @lcvsanaa ~ @dilfismz ~ @knoepfl ~ @tuttifuckinfruttifriday ~ @spookysquids

[tender-rosiey]

hinting — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: thank @callmemirro for the bby fever idea but the video of the baby is what fueled the fire even more

you have a feeling that something has been plaguing your husband’s mind. it’s not a bad thing—like that way too expensive pea-sized handbag he wanted to get just to clown it.

it’s actually good and adorable especially with the way it gets him all smiley and bubbly.

you also started to notice when exactly he gets into these moods or rather regarding what.

for example, you were browsing the store once for new clothes. you and satoru agreed to split to search on a wider scale for discounts.

so when he came back, all smiley and excited, you expected a 50% sale or something. instead, you got surprised with possibly the cutest baby pajama ever.

“what do you think, babe? it’s so cute especially the little smiling duck in the middle!”

you take it from him, examining it up close. truthfully, the material is pretty good and it is soft on the skin. there is only one problem though.

you look up to your husband with a smile, “but, honey, we don’t have a baby.”

satoru deflates for a single second before standing up straight, proud, “hey, now! we can always get it for future plans,” he ogles you, but you quickly pinch his nose.

“haha, very funny.” you start pushing the cart towards that one outfit you liked with satoru following close by.

“y/n, I am serious!” he whines as his hand finds home on your waist.

“and I am a dinosaur in disguise.”

he gasps, “really?!”

“no.”

and that happened more than once.

another thing is that satoru has been obsessed with baby videos.

you remember that one time you were chilling on your beloved couch when he came stumbling into the room, clutching his phone and almost dying of laughter, “y/n! y/n! look at this baby!”

satoru is wheezing as he replays the video over and over again. his uncontrollable laughter is music to your ears, but you feel that you’re going to have to take him to a therapist or a mental hospital.

he laughs loudly for sure, but he has been like this for 4 hours, showing you a baby video every minute or so.

you look at him with sympathy as he cackles, “it was so ready to square up too—huh, what’re you doing?”

you pull him into your embrace and he immediately melts, arms wrapping around you in an instant.

you gently rub his back and press a kiss to the top of his head, “my poor baby,” you coo and gojo lights up: have you finally understood what he has been hinting at?

you cup his face and kiss his cheeks, “work must’ve taken quite a toll on you; we can go to the hosp—“

“hey! that’s just mean!”

he huffs moving away and giving you his back, but then he looks back at you, “but the baby was cute, right?”

you laugh, resting your chin on his shoulder, “yeah, in a way, it reminded me of megumi.”

“you’re so right! even as a first-grader, he was so ready to fight anyone.”

another memorable incident happened when you were in a park, taking a walk with your darling husband.

it was peaceful, accompanied by the squeals of children, the coolness of the ice cream, and the comfort of your husband’s presence. speaking of which, where’s that guy?

you look around, searching for a very prominent walking paintbrush. you blink once, twice, and he is finally in front of you with a huge grin, “y/n, look at this cutie pie I just met!”

you soften at the sight of the giggling baby in his arms. the little baby girl reaches out for you and you cradle her in your arms.

cooing at her, you rock gently while making silly faces and it makes her laugh a laugh from her belly. it also makes a certain someone sport the most lovesick smile known to existence.

smiling, you look at your husband, “where did you find her? was she lost?”

your husband sweatdrops and looks to the side, glasses showing off his bright blue eyes, “about that—“

“there he is, officer! he took my baby!”

so yeah, something is up with your husband, and you have had enough with him hiding it from you. god is on your side today as you’re finally able to back him into a corner and finally interrogate him.

“satoru, is there something you want to tell me?” you ask the man, breathless after running around the school for a couple of hours.

silence occupies the room before your husband finally gives in.

he takes a deep breath and hugs you, resting his head on your shoulder, “I want…” he mumbles, “I want a baby, please?”

you are silent for a moment then you make him look you in the eyes, “really?”

“really,” he says, voice unwavering, “I know that it might be scary, but we have experience with tsumiki and megumi, and they turned out just fine!” he starts rambling, “except for megumi, he can be bratty sometimes, but point is!” he holds your hands in his, “I want to start a family with you, but if you don’t want—“

“okay.”

“—to I completely understand and…wait—did you just say okay?”

“yeah,” you beam, “let’s have a baby. you could’ve said that right away, silly.”

he stares at you for a bit, “do you have any idea how LONG I HAVE BEEN—“

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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[yamujiburo]

if you don't mind, would you rank ash's outfits from worst to best? (also on the same topic, would you have wanted to see him in ethan, brendan, victor, and any other missed protag's outfits?)

Oooh this is a great question I've never really thought about

Shoutout to @/leafbladex_yt for this cool edit of all Ash's fits! (it's helping me judge the clothes alone rather than the art style). Ranking under the cut!

Going from least favorite to most favorite! AG, DP, SM, JN, XY, BW, OS

AG- I'm not a huge fan of this one. I feel like there's not a lot helping break the colors up in this design. The block of blue and the white "U" shape are competing to draw your eye and it feels unbalanced. I feel like if the "U" shape was on his chest or took up more space it'd help

DP- This outfit is pretty similar to AG's except Ash has a popped collar rather than a hood. However this one has two things going for it that I like. The "V" shape placement is nice and is what I wished the AG design had and also the black shirt is very unique compared to all of Ash's other designs that tend to be blue-leaning! Also like the extra pockets that make the pants feel less empty than the AG one

SM- Another unique look for Ash that I do like but isn't my favorite. It's simple and I do like the pants a lot actually but idk I just want a little more. The shoes make me laugh a bit. I like that they're going for a more slick look for the shoes but the little circles on em feel vaguely clown-like haha

JN- From here on I really like these designs! I like the JN shoes a lot and they honestly be my favorite shoes of the bunch. Not the hugest fan of the hat but I really like the vest and the white undershirt with red stripe. The balance and colors are really nice! My only gripe is the color of his shorts. It's not egregious but the purple that's only slightly different in value compared to the vest is weird to me. It works but idk I think a higher contrast might've been nice or just going for simple black shorts would've felt better to me (?)

XY- Don't have much to say about this one! It's just a solid, clean design. The hat is fun, the simple shirt with white trim and just enough lines to make the design look cool but not crowded is great! I also like the black undershirt. It's subtle but this design would look weird without it

BW- UGH this design scratches my brain just right. I looove the tall collar/hood, the 1/3 blue 2/3 white combo is soooo clean especially with the blue accents for the pockets. It's also nicely broken up by they yellow zipper and bold black "U" lines to separate the blue and white. So beautifully balanced

OS- This is a hard design to beat. It's just so iconic. Love the league symbol on the hat and the white panel in the front of that hat (forgot to mention I like that about the BW design too). The green gloves are great, I'm kinda sad they just defaulted to black in his other designs. The blue overshirt is great with the white collar/white sleeves. The yellow trim on the bottom, for the buttons and pockets give it just enough visual interest while keeping the design interesting. Keeping the overshirt open for the black tshirt is sooooo nice. It draws the eyes to the center and balances well with the light jeans. Love that it's tucked in also so the overshirt is noticeably longer creating even more variation. The belt is also a great touch! Love a belt. Belts are such a nice way to break up a design. The cuffed jeans are a look and I love that the shoes are designed but not over designed. The black and white combo with red accents is balanced super nicely. 10/10 no notes.

As for an outfit I'd wish we'd seen Ash in........ honestly Victor's. It would have been a huge deviation from what Ash usually wears, similarly to SM. Idk if it would have been my favorite look but it would be so wildly different to see Ash in long sleeves, actual skinny jeans and a beanie haha. Might have to draw this at some point

[clownyclaushoe]

art the clown x reader 🔞 | i taste blood and it's turned into an obsession series

part one | champagne confetti

the first time art the clown eats your pussy (and makes you squirt 😫🖤) 🔞 ofc

i didn't intend for there to be so much semi-plot before the porn but it gets just a little angsty/sad at the start. chapter title comes from the song 3d by jungkook cause i couldn't think of anything else and its a euphemism for squirting 😆💦🍾 series title is from lilith (diablo iv anthem) by halsey feat. suga.

part two | part three | part four

---

you couldn't quantify what your relationship with the miles county clown was; it wasn't really a friendship and you weren't romantically or sexually involved either, though you'd be lying if you said art didn't have a way about him that drew you in, something so inexplicably attractive about him. for his part, it seemed he tolerated you most times, others it was as if he kept you around for his own amusement.

that much was probably true enough, given the night you'd met and his over the top reaction to your homemade costume last halloween - harley quinn from the animated series. when he'd walked into the fast food joint and noticed you, he dropped his massive black trash bag to the floor, rushing up to you as if you were a celebrity. it was late enough that there were a few groups of people from the nearby bar throughout the restaurant. his display making them stare, snicker, and talk amongst themselves. it made you a little self-conscious, but the funny clown wasn't fazed at all.

you thanked him, because though a little embarrassing, it was also flattering, considering the time and effort it took to make each detail of your outfit and makeup just right.

somehow you'd let him sit at your table, you asking if he was going to purchase anything, if he was hungry; he had definitely looked like he could use a meal. he had pulled out some change, counting it out on the table. you placed your hand over his, stopping him, telling him you got it. his head jolted back as he looked up at you wide-eyed, mouth agape, as if he was scared by your touch. something in your chest clenched, wondering what made him react in such a way, what could have happened in his past.

six months later you still didn't know the details of his past, though you still were curious. what was he like as a kid, as a teenager, was he an outcast back then, too? would you two have been friends?

you stared at his back as he sat at his work bench, tinkering with some new items for his arsenal. it troubled you how you could compartmentalize that murderous, sadistic side of art from the silly, caring side, though as time goes on its lessening. you wonder, too, if those "good" parts of him were enough to keep him in your life, if it meant even monsters could one day be redeemed. though you doubt art sought redemption, his dark heart beyond healing.

you return your gaze back to your laptop, you had been binge watching youtube videos, just about to search for funny animal clips, when art's hand suddenly waved in front of the screen.

"shit, what, art--" you said all at once, as you hadn't seen or heard his approach. art's arm dropped, and he slumped a little, frowning at you curiously. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to snap at you. i was just startled." you exhale a deep breath. "yes, art?"

art grinned, pointing at your laptop. "what is it?" art flexed his fingers in a gesture suggesting you hand your laptop to him.

"you want this?" art nodded. "for what?" art insistently did a grabby-hands gesture, while bouncing on his toes. "okay, okay." you handed it over, hoping he wasn't ordering materials or weapons to be used for his next kill using your saved card info.

after a few clicks, suddenly there's audio playing. it's a woman - and it sounds like she's shouting. for a moment you think it might be a snuff video. it takes a few seconds to realize those are shouts of pleasure, not pain.

"i'll leave you alone to enjoy that."

art grabs your arm momentarily, shaking his head, pointing at you, himself, then the screen. you stare at him, confused until he turns the laptop to show you what he was watching.

a man eating a woman's pussy. and not in the cannibal sense, but the cunnilingus sense.

he continues pointing between the three of you, animatedly. "art? you want to eat my pussy?"

art nodded excitedly while pausing the video and putting the computer aside. you didn't think he viewed you that way, wasn't even sure he had a libido.

it seemed at times even art was at the mercy of his own whims, compelled to do things without knowing why or bothering to question it. you wondered if this was one of those times.

did he even understand what he was asking?

"i didn't think-- art, i-i don't--" you trailed off, at a loss for what to say. for what you could say. the truth was for an unbearably long time you've wanted him in every way possible, how could you deny yourself the chance now.

you stood, turning to him, and pushing up on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck as he slipped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer against him. your faces so close, you can feel his breath fanning against your cheek, his intense gaze boring into yours.

the moment lingered. which of you would act first and finally release the thick tension filling the already stuffy air; the summer heat worsened in the poorly ventilated room, sorely lacking air conditioning. sweat trailed down your side, under the thin fabric of your dress. you needed out of these clothes.

art smirked at you, tilting his head, eyes widening and brows raising - he's teasing you, trying to see if he could get a rise out of you. you knew he liked to fuck around with people for his own entertainment, of course you'd be no different. luckily, the distinction between you and everyone else was he's about to fuck around with you, literally.

you couldn't wait any longer.

you leaned forward, capturing art's mouth suddenly, gripping the back of his head. after a moment, art kisses back, a little uncoordinated and off-kilter, which is to be expected with art, and the almost certainty that he's long out of practice.

you whimpered a little against his mouth, taking aback by just how much you're affected by the touch of his lips and his embrace surrounding you.

his hands move down to your thighs and you hop up, art pulling you off the ground, your legs wrapping around him. art takes steps forward and you have no idea where he's taking you and you don't fucking care. he walks you over to his work bench with all his beloved tools that he kept in a particular order and never let anyone else ever touch. he cast the tools aside with a swipe of his arm, setting you on the table.

you sit at the edge and he presses close between your legs as you kiss again, feeling his hard-on though his costume, your hips rolling to grind against him, seeking friction to drive you both wild.

"fuck, i can already feel your big, hard cock," you gasp out incredulously. "want to feel it inside me already. please, art."

art grins, but wiggles his finger at you, shaking his head with his tongue out as if to remind you of what started all this in the first place.

you wait impatiently for his next move.

he grazes his hands up your dress, starting at your thighs and up the curve of your hips, over your waist, shifting up to squeeze your tits together. he unfastened the buttons at the top of the garment before pulling it up and over your head. once again he's surprised you, you would've guessed he'd tear the thin fabric off your body. you get wetter at the thought.

he's quick to do away with your bra and underwear. you lie back on the table as much as will allow, your legs spreading further apart for art to see all of you.

he grabs the backs of your thighs, holding them up as he leans closer to your pussy. he spits on it, his cold saliva spilling over your hot and pulsating labia.

art ducks his head, wasting no time latching his mouth onto your pussy, his big nose bumping your clit repeatedly.

"ohh, oh my god," you struggle to get out, taken aback by his enthusiasm, watching his tongue jutting out to lick between your folds. your body already starting to shake with how fucking good he feels.

his grip on your legs tightens, keeping you still. there's already a familiar feeling of building pressure, like you had to pee - you knew if it were piss, art would be unbothered and perhaps even like it more than the squirt that he was about to coax from you. it was growing urgency, you were so close. your hand blindly reaching for art, for some bearing to ground you, as you felt untethered, completely unfurled by this curious creature and his perfect mouth.

that pressure became too much and you let go, releasing a guttural moan as you come, squirting on art's face, and calling his name.

once art draws back, bearing his teeth with a grin. you knew there was something otherworldly about art, something uncanny, and this seemed farther proof, how he knew how to make you come harder than you ever had, so deeply, it ached - it nearly hurt.

he stands, leaning over you for a kiss, allowing you to taste yourself. when he pulls back, he looks to the pile of tools and for a fleeting moment you think you're his next victim. the real death after the "little" one.

he grabs something from the pile, showing it off with a flourish of his hand. it'd been what he was working on earlier. it was a metal dildo with a smooth head, small ridges around the side and a ribbed shaft.

a shiver ran through you at the thought of art using it on you, that he made it for you. you got wetter imagining being pounded with it, impaled by it.

"fuck yes, please, art." he pushed it inside your soaked pussy, watching the way it stretched you. "ah, shit."

he kept thrusting the toy in and out of you, kneeling again to lick and kiss your clit.

"yes, art, ah, ahhh," you grab his head, holding him in place. "gonna make me fucking squirt again."

and moments later, you were squirting around the toy fucking you good and hard, drenching art's hand and face. the afterglow seemed to go on and on, you have no idea how long, spanning like the moments you had spend with him, time having no meaning anymore.

when you both righted yourselves, you noticed he was getting hard again, huge cock jerking in the tight confines of his pants.

"your turn?" art nods with a grin.

---

sorry to end it with a cliffhanger

i hope you enjoyed! 🖤❤🖤❤🖤

© angeljeonjkk 2024

[getmeoutofhell]

Art The Clown x Clown! Reader

summary: reader has been keeping their love secret for weeks, but art decided to put reader’s thoughts to rest.

warnings: reader is almost the same as art, meaning they are also a murder.

a/n: this is very short, but i wanted to try something out with my writing. if you want more clown reader fics, send me a request!

this is it. this is the day you finally ask art to be your boyfriend. this has been on your mind for the past 4 to 5 weeks, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to say it to him yet. you liked him for some time, ever since you saw him in that laundromat, and once you saw his long pointy face, you knew you loved him.

but, here you are, shaking and nervous to say or do anything. you’re a murderer, someone who hurts people, but when it comes to him, all that goes away temporarily. your mind starts to get filled with thoughts of you and him, living away together, forgetting about this mess of a life. if only you were strong.

“hey art. when did you get here??” as you start rambling in your head, you see art in the doorway of your room, staring at you with those beautiful dark black eyes. you wonder if there’s a soul lurked underneath the surface. maybe he’s a real person under the makeup and costume, but you’ll never get the answers you seek. he just looks at you, not doing anything. if you were a normal person, the stare would creep you out, but it comforts you in a way. you slowly get up and walk over to him, hearing the floor boards creek underneath your clown shoes. he was a mastermind, a man no one should trust, let alone love. you reach your arms out to hug him, seeing his eyes twinkle at the sight of you. you feel your dead heart flutter at it. as you hug him, you breath in his scent. the scent of blood, gut, and piss. he’s a disgusting thing, but you still couldn’t help but like him. he was everything to you.

he reaches to the back of your head, gently rubbing at your hair. you’re surprised a man like him can be so gentle yet deadly. does he know you like him?? does he like you?? these questions flood your mind as he just rubs the back of your skull. the questions shut down once he backs away from you, placing both of his hands on each side of your face. he has on his santa outfit, as you take notice of all the blood stains on it. all of sudden the mood in the air changes, he leans in, close enough to feel his hot breath against your face. you don’t say anything at his actions.

he kisses you. it was sudden, so sudden you didn’t notice his lips was even on yours at first. you kissed him back, so happy to finally feel the feeling of his lips against yours. his lips were dry, but that didn’t matter to you, all that mattered was that he was here, with you.

🤡🤘🏾

[alicechess]

Yandere art the clown x reader (part 1)

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2.5k words

Has not been proof read at all. Also why is he so fucking hot. No idea when I'll update next.

Part 2

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You got out of your car, the chilly autumn hair causes hairs to prick on your skin. You shuddered as you walked into the building. The warm air was rather welcoming, especially with the addition of the strong scent of freshly baked pizza. As you looked around, you noticed two women sitting at a booth, a man in a black and white outfit with a clown mask or face paint watching them, but as he heard the bell from the door, his gaze flickered to you. You gave him a polite smile, then sat down at one of the tables. You placed your bag onto the chair beside you, then looked over the menu. Once you chose F/P, you stood and went to the cash register and ordered. A man who seemed to be in his mid 30s approached you, "How can I help you?"

"Uh, can I please order one slice of F/P?"

"Dine in or takeaway?" He said, pressing buttons on the register.

"Dine in, thank you."

"Alright, $5 please. Cash or card?"

"Card." You said, while grabbing your card.

Once you paid, you sat back down at the table. You noticed the two women from before giving the clown weird glances. Thinking they were making fun of him, you decided to talk to him. You felt bad, as he was frowning.

"Hey," You said, causing the man in the outfit to look at you, a smile instantly forming on his face. Startled by the sudden change, you quickly sputtered out, "I-I just wanted to say your outfit looks cool!"

The man waved off your comment jokingly, making you awkwardly smile. The blonde woman at the booth in front of you giggled. You heard her whisper to the girl in front of her, "At least she got the attention away from you." 

You made sure to look down, so that they would think you didn't hear. The clown looked at the girls, his original from reappearing on his face, this time, it looked a lot more..... unsettling. His eyes almost felt darker, it sent a shiver down your spine. You went back to the register, ringing the small bell. After a few seconds, the same man came back out. He was covered in sweat, you felt bad, but still asked, "Is it okay if I could get it for takeaway instead? Sorry asking so late."

The man shook his head, "You're fine miss, we're almost done so just give us a few minutes."

You nodded, giving him a small smile and a thank you. You plopped back down, and went onto your phone. The feeling in the air was painfully uncomfortable, it felt so tense, like something was going to happen.

You overheard the black haired girl, whisper-yell at the blonde haired woman. "Please don't, it's not worth it!"

The blonde rolled her eyes, and sauntered over to the man with a cocky smile. The man gave her a death stare, his face almost looked as though it was set in stone. His expression didn't change at all as she sat down beside him. He merely turned his head to look at her, looking unamused. 

"Can I get a picture with you?" She leaned over, getting no response, she clicked, "Helloo?"

She sighed, lifting his arm up and wrapping it around her. "I'm gonna take that as a yes."

You gave her a horrified look, what the hell was she doing? The brunette and you met eyes, her face showing she was just as shocked and confused as you.

The blonde adjusted the small hat ontop of his head, causing it to fall. His eyes met hers with the most hate-filled look you've seen. The air thickened as she attempted to put it back on. She took multiple photos, as she somewhat posed him. The longer this want to the more agitated he was. 

"Thanks." The blonde said as she stood up, walking back over towards her friend. 

He continued to stare at the two girls, making you wonder if maybe he was the one creeping them out first? Regardless, he wasn't doing anything, you thought at least. Maybe he was just socially awkward...?

"Hey," You whispered, causing his gaze to slowly move towards you, the same, dead eyed stare meeting yours. 

"That was really rude... are you okay?" 

He didn't respond, his focus soon returning on the girl. You shrugged, deciding to go on your phone to waste the time, hoping your pizza will be done soon. As you were scrolling mindlessly, you heard footsteps. You glanced up from your phone, watching as the clown grabbed a coin, presumably a tip, from one of the tables. You felt the urge to say something, but decided to bite your tongue. You didn't want to get involved anymore. 

The man then went to one of those machines where you place a coin and get a toy. He placed one in, and took one of the balls out. He walked over towards you, his strong, but not-harsh stare focusing on you. You felt your heart race from confusion and mild fear. You glanced at the two girls, the blonde holding in a life while the brunette told her to stop, giving you a concerned look. 

He knelt down on one knee, opening the ball to show a cheap plastic ring. Some of the fear you felt was replaced by instead being flustered. You blinked, confused on how to react. Thinking it was maybe an act, as he was dressed as a clown, and it was Halloween, you didn't reject it. He gently grabbed your hand and slid the ring onto your hand.

"I...I.. thank you...?"

You mustered out, watching as he gave you an eery grin. 

You didn't take it off, as you didn't want to be rude. In return, you grabbed your bag and rummaged through it. The clown watched with a curious smile as you grabbed some candy. "Here, I was at a party earlier, I've got a lot of left overs at home anyway." You gave him a smile as you held your hands which were full of candy out. 

He clapped his hands dramatically, grabbed the candy with one hand as he then tipped his hat. You giggled at the gesture, he then sat back down at the other booth, putting the candy in the plastic bag beside him. 

The blonde looked over, judging you heavily. The brunette more confused by the interaction. Eventually, the man from earlier came over, "Here's your order, sorry it took a while, we came across some problems with the oven."

You thanked him, giving him a few dollars as a tip, "You're all good, things happen!"

You held the small box in your hand, then walked over towards the door, giving the clown a small smile for the gift. You thought that he really kept up the spooky act, while also being generous with giving you a small cute ring. You looked down at it while you walked towards the car. It was a red ring, it was rough around the edges, but you didn't mind. You weren't going to wear it forever, just till you got home, so you can put it somewhere else. 

You hopped back into your car then went home.

--------

The next morning, you hopped into the shower, enjoying the water and the heat as it washed away the makeup, sweat and alcohol-spills from the night before. Feeling more refreshed, you then plopped down onto your couch, placing your legs onto the coffee table. You flipped through a bunch of channels, trying to find something to watch. Eventually, you decided to just watch a news channel. You adjusted yourself as you saw 'breaking news come onto screen.'

"An hour ago, a man was reported to have been brutally stabbed to do death, his corpse being mutilated, his body unrecognisable, besides the nametag which was still attached to his shirt."

An image was then shown, it was the same guy who served you pizza last night. 

"A second body was also discovered, the owner of the restaurant."

The words slowly faded as your mind focused on last night. The place was meant to close at 12, you got there at 11. How the hell did someone get in? They probably broke in, but still, how would they absolutely destroy a corpse till the extent it was unrecognizable? As your mind wondered, you staired at the screen. An image then shown of a blonde woman and a brunette, also the same ones from last night. 

"Dawn ***** and Tara ***** was found at a warehouse on ripley street. The woman known as Dawn was cut in half with a chainsaw, her identity was only found as a result of her dental records. The other woman who fell victim was named Tara, who was shot and scalped. The scalp was discovered in another room on the crime scene. We will discuss the other victims after the break."

You scoffed, of course they choose to put ads in the middle of explaining a crime. Selfish fucks. You stood up and went over to your kitchen and prepared F/M. Might as well have something nice after that weird experience from last night. Once you were done, you plopped down back onto the couch, this time choosing to go on your phone. Once you were done, you went to work.

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

Working after having a very..... exciting night before wasn't the best experience. You were tired, felt sick, and just wanted to sleep. But you needed money, and you couldn't have days off often. 

As you served customers, the thoughts of last night followed you. You tried to keep your mind on the work you had to do, but those two girls... and that clown. Who did that to those girls? Why is everyone who was there, besides the clown and you were dead. 

As you were preparing some coffee, you overheard some talking. "I can't believe that clown did that. And apparently he shot himself too! After torturing those poor women, he killed himself. Who does that!"

Well that explains it

"Wow really? What the fuck. Look I'm glad he's gone, at least. We don't need anymore psychos roaming around here."

"Yeah true, but still.... it was brutal too."

Understatement of the year

"I'm worried that people will take ideas from it, you know? What if those psychos think hmm that sounds fun, and then more murders pop up?"

"Doubt it," One said, stirring their tea. "Not many have the motivation to do it, or the strength."

"I guess so."

You continued doing your job, occasionally listening in to their conversation. You felt bad for being nosey, but at the same time, it was about a murderer, so maybe it wasn't too bad being a bit nosey? You mentally shrugged, pouring milk in latte. 

As you were serving the drink to one of the customers, you heard the little bell ring, alerting you someone else came in. Normally there was around 10-15 customers inside the Cafe. It was a small one, although sitting near a shopping centre, so people were constantly in and out. 

You did a small glance over, and noticed the man, in the same clown outfit as the day before. You thought maybe it was someone else dressing up to be edgy. The two your were listening to before looked up, a confused but dissapointed look on their faces.

"Look at that idiot," One whispered, "Jesus christ" The other murmured, shaking their head.

You looked away, you wouldn't get involved on the job. You needed money, after all. 

The clown strolled up to the counter, giving you a small wave then pointed at an item on the menu. You nodded, "that'll be $4.50." Giving him a polite smile.

He then dug into his bag for a few moments. Then pulled out a coin, then another, then another... You mentally sighed, but still keeping the smile on your face. After about a minute of him giving 5 cent after 5 cent, another person came in. They went in line, then sighed looking at the man in front.

"Dude, this isn't funny, this isn't Halloween anymore." The stranger said, crossing his arms. The clown then turned around slightly, a disturbing frown forming on his face. It looks the same as the night before, that same, unnerving frown. You felt your heart race as you thought of the news, it couldn't be the same person, he was dead. But... that same dead-eyed look...

You mentally shook your head, you were overthinking.

He then turned back, taking more coins out. Eventually coming to $4.50.

"Alright, thank you sir. I'll give it to you in a few moments." 

The clown suddenly smiled, bowing, then went to one of the tables. 

The man gave you his order, then apologised for the clowns behaviour. He shook his head, "I don't understand why some people act like that. So rude, it's not even amusing just annoying."

"It's fine, maybe he just had a lot of coins laying around." 

"Doubt it." The man murmured, paying with his card, then walked to his table.

You prepared the clowns pie, simply heating it up. You then added some whipped cream on top. Once it was done, you went over to his table.

"Here sir, hope you enjoy." You smiled, placing it down. 

He clapped his hands, then noticed you had a ring on. He pointed at it, causing your heart to stop for a moment. The clown feigned being flustered, but you couldn't stop just staring. Thoughts were rushing through your mind, surely he didn't know. It was just a random guy dressing up.

"Oh... yes..." You mustered out, "Someone gave it to me last night, I think it was to be nice since it was Halloween and all." You chuckled nervously. 

He then pointed at himself, silently chuckling back, then slapped his knee almost as if it was the funniest situation. This made the sinking feeling deeper. Almost as though your stomach dropped to your feet. 

"Haha yeah... Anyway, I hope you enjoy your meal. Let me know if there's anything I can help you with." 

The man from before noticed the uncomfortable look on your face and stood up, and came walking over just as you were about to walk away. 

"Mate, stop making her uncomfortable. Your making EVERYONE uncomfortable, just fucking eat then leave like the rest of us." 

The clown then rolled his eyes, doing the blah blah gesture, then waved him off. Then taking a bite of his food.

"Thats it, dipshit, one more fucking move and I'm calling the cops for harassment." He almost yelled, causing the clown to grab the plate then throw it at the man's face. Causing pie and cream to drip all down his shirt. 

The man stood stunned for a moment, trying to take in the situation. The clown then stood up, brushing his onezie, as though he spilt anything on himself. He shook his head with exaggerated disappointment, then looked at you, swirling his finger at the side of his head, calling the man crazy. As he walked out the door, he gave you one more small wave and a wink. 

---------

[avicecaro]

i’d also argue part of this is that women’s clothing is often objectively absurd. totally impractical, meant to be looked at rather than functional or comfortable and meant to be worn.

so you feel absurd wearing it unless you’re posed and styled. when you’re in the middle of putting on makeup, it looks super weird — when you’re done, it still looks weird! it’s just that it’s a weird that is also a completed performance that we’re accustomed to seeing. similarly, when we see men in a lot of “fashionable” women’s clothing, they look silly (and sometimes degrading), because the clothing is itself absurd, but there’s a completed performance that we’re accustomed to seeing, when a woman does it.

when you throw on jeans and a tshirt without doing your makeup or hair, you might still feel *insecure* but you don’t feel like you actually look ridiculous or comical. but that’s because a lot of women’s clothing is not first and foremost clothing, it’s first and foremost a costume.

this makes me so saaaaad. if women collectively would realise nothing about our natural appearances needs to be altered we would shatter multi billion companies in the blink of an eye AND everyone would be happier. stop being your own biggest bullies! there is nothing wrong with your natural face and hair!

[washeduphazbin]

Lady Hell II

You know what's happening bitches! Lady Hell, part II, is officially done; this follows the plot of Dad Beat Dad of Hazbin Hotel with a few little twists and turns thrown in there. Unfortunately, this made me want to write for Alastor

THIS IS FOR YOU @ledendarylearner18, @animequeen4 As Always, MINORS DNI

WARNINGS FOR SMUT: It will happen at the very end. Breeding kink, possessiveness, Alastor being a shithead.

--

“DUCKLING!” Arms wrapped around your body, and suddenly, you were in the air. 

“Luci!” You yelped, hands grabbing onto his shoulders. Looking down, you saw his smile widening. Your voice caught in your throat, and you saw how his eyes were sparkling. It was the first light you’d seen from him in a while; it seemed like it wasn’t a depression day. “Are you okay?”

“More than!” he gushed, setting you down on the ground and planting a fervent kiss on your lips; another squeak escaped. “Guess who's eager to see me?” You tried to answer, but Lucifer’s bubbling excitement cut you off. “CHARLIE!”  

“Oh, Lucifer, that’s great!” You gave him a genuine smile, “for what?” 

“We’re going to visit her hotel!” 

“Me too?” 

“Obviously,” he waved you off fondly, “You’re one of the two queens of hell, and you’re coming.” 

“We aren’t even married, Lucifer.” You laughed fondly, and he shushed you. 

“It doesn’t make you any less a queen, plus...” he swallowed a bit shakily. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” You cooed sweetly, leaning forward to kiss his forehead; he let out a shaky breath. 

“Lips?” 

“Of course,” You murmured, pressing a light kiss to his lips; his hand caressed your cheek, and you leaned into it.

Since your conversation with Lucifer a few months ago, both of you have worked on your feelings and expressed yourself to one another more clearly. Oddly enough, Lucifer reached out to Asmodeus, and he became your couple’s therapist; he was excellent at his job. You even got to meet his partner named Fizz during one session; the poor imp looked like he could shit himself when he first found you and Lucifer sitting in Asmodeus’s office…He was holding a box filled to the brim with sex toys. He let out a shaky “fuck,” as he attempted to bow with the box causing them to spill everywhere. Once he heard you snort out a cackle, it was all over; a pleased smile spread across Fizz’s lips, which had Lucifer looking at you in surprise. Not at the situation, but it was the first time since Lilith left that he heard you laugh as hard as you were now. The clown-like imp began cracking jokes, almost killing you with laughter; you found yourself leaning on Lucifer so he could support your weight. It made Lucifer chuckle fondly in response to your behavior, 

“What did I tell ya, Ozzy?” Fizzaroli flew over to his partner and wrapped his mechanical arms around his neck. “Anything can be solved with a bit of laughter.”

It seemed like Lucifer took those words to heart because ever since he’s been doing his best not only to show his devotion to you but also to make you laugh at the littlest things. He created new ducks based on the people he knew and little inventions to show off to you. It’s been a good few months; loving him again was becoming more effortless, and trust began to rekindle between the both of you. Snapping back to the present, Lucifer stepped away and cleared his throat, “We should get ready to go.” You could tell he wanted more but was stepping back for your sake; your heart clenched a bit, but you also understood. 

He wasn’t ready yet, and you respected that choice. 

“Of course,” you eyed his duck-themed pajamas with a giggle, and he looked at you, completely unaware of his outfit. “I’m always ready to go; you, on the other hand...” you flicked your hair with a wink. You watched his cheeks puff out in frustration, but he didn’t argue with you. It only took a few minutes for him to change into his signature look, looking embarrassed he didn’t notice his outfit choice sooner. 

“May I?” He held out his arm, and your hand gently grabbed his bicep. You tried to hide a giggle, feeling him flex beneath your hand; you loved your sweet idiot. A golden portal sparked to life in front of you, and both of you stepped through it. In front of you was the infamous Hazbin Hotel. Lucifer made a face at the establishment, and you lightly slapped his arm, 

“Luci,” your voice warned. “Remember, this is Charlie’s idea. Let’s keep that in mind.” He gave a slight nod and knocked on the door, and you could feel the excitement of seeing his daughter practically buzzing underneath his skin. The door opened, and Lucifer was greeted by a nervous-looking Charlie and the worst decorations you’ve ever seen in your life. With a slight flinch, you tried to give Charlie an encouraging smile. She was about to open her mouth to speak, but Lucifer immediately wrapped his arms around her. She let out a squeak as he greeted her rather awkwardly. She nodded at you once she was released from her father’s hold and cleared her throat. 

“Mom, Dad.” She greeted, fidgeting, “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!” Keekee swarmed between Lucifer’s legs, and he cooed softly at her; once the demon cat recognized you, she immediately jumped onto your shoulders, purring sweetly against your cheek. You hummed, scratching her under her chin, 

“Hello, Keekeey.” She purred louder, and you watched as Razzel and Dazzel rushed over to Lucifer, loving the attention of their creator. Lucifer looked around the place, seemingly trying to find the appropriate words to describe the hotel. You winced, 

“Well, the place has a lot of character—what in the unholy hell is this?” he yelled, pointing to the bar area and its atrocious color scheme. 

“These are just some of the renovations we have done. It adds a bit of color, don’t you think?” 

“What is this? What are you, the bellhop?” You could see the demon’s lips twitch in a displeased smile; Lucifer sent a pout your way. 

“You may have heard me from my radio broadcast.” Lucifer may not have heard of him, but you certainly did. It took you a moment to fully recognize them. After all, it was your job to take care of things in Hell when Lucifer could not. Technically, since you were still a Sinner, the chills you felt down your spine from Alastor’s raw power were immediate. He spun Lucifer around in an aggressive handshake, causing Lucifer’s hat to almost be knocked off his head; “I’m Alastor. It’s a pleasure to meet you, quite the pleasure.” You watched the man shake Lucifer’s staff, wiping his hand on his coat and allowing Lucifer time to fix his hat. Lucifer shot him a dirty look, “I’m the benefactor of this fine establishment.” He waved his hand around, “I assisted Charlie in making this place the amazing hotel you see before you. You are much shorter in real life.” His eyes drifted across your partner and then over to you, and you immediately didn’t like the look in his eyes. “Hell dear,” Alastor greeted with a bow, “My apologies for ignoring a beautiful woman like yourself.” You unconsciously flushed at his comment, and you heard who you assumed to be a spider demon make a surprised sound. He took your hand and pressed a gentlemanly kiss to your knuckles, 

“Ah, thank you.” You said shyly, a slightly uncomfortable twinge in your voice. In a weird combination, you could see his words were genuine but had no actual flirtatious intention behind them. Glancing back at Lucifer, you saw just how close he was; the frown and glare on his face were almost comical. His horns were just barely peaking through his head, “Luci?” You asked softly as Alastor dropped your hand. As soon as you were out of the deer’s hold, Lucifer picked you up and set you behind him. You squeaked in embarrassment, and Charlie cringed at the entire situation, looking at you desperately to ease the tension. You reached forward and wrapped your arms around Lucifer’s waist, resting your chin on his shoulder; you could feel the stress oozing out of his body like ichor. 

“I haven’t heard of you,” Lucifer scoffed with as much sass as he could muster, and you groaned internally; “I guess that’s why Charlie called this the Hazbin Hotel.” He laughed mockingly, and you looked up at Alastor, whose hands tightened around his microphone. The deer sinner laughed back just as mocking, 

“Actually, it was my idea.”

“Well, it’s not very clever!” Lucifer snapped, and you squeezed him tighter, trying to get his attention back on anything else. Another laugh as Alastor leaned down static was heard, and you couldn’t help but flinch, 

“Fuck you.” His dial-like eyes briefly flicked up to you with a wink. Lucifer growled harshly in a warning. Charlie looked at you frantically once more and changed your strategy, moving to step in between them, your dress swishing around your ankles. 

“Okay! Luci! I’m sure Charlie has more to tell you about the hotel, right honey?” 

“Yes!” Charlie squealed, rushing over to her dad and pulling him over. "This is the parlor.” She turned him to face the small living room area. Lucifer nodded tensely, trying to think of something kind to say.

“It looks lovely, dear.” You butted in saving Lucifer’s ass once again. She beamed at the comment, emanating rainbows and unicorns as usual, 

“Thanks, mom! You know, without Alastor, we wouldn’t have been able to pretty it up this much!” You wanted to facepalm; you loved her dearly, but like her father, Charlie genuinely had no self-awareness. The deer Sinner tilted his head, grinning somehow wider, 

“Charlie has a very unique vision. I am happy to fill all her bizarre requests.” Alastor walked over and placed a hand not just on Charlie’s shoulders but yours as well, his thumb rubbing tender circles into the flesh. 

Composure. Lilith taught you composure. That was one of the skills of a Queen of Hell. 

Lucifer had none of that as his glare intensified at Alastor, his lips curling into a grimace as Charlie thanked Alastor. “Quite an impressive young lady. We’re all very proud of her; you raised her well.” He looked at you with a charming smile, and your cheeks heated; unfortunately, that made your stomach flutter with pride. 

“Charlie, dear.” Lucifer growled, almost as if he could sense the Pride radiating off of him, making his blood boil, “Why don’t you introduce us to your other friends? Duckling, why don’t you stand next to me?”

“Oh, psh duh!” she ran over to Vaggie, pulling her over, “this is my girlfriend, Vaggie,” Charlie said hurriedly, waving her hand; Lucifer let out a surprised supportive laugh, 

“Oh, You like girls! So do I. We have so much in common! Put her there, Maggie!” Grabbing Vaggie by the hand and shaking it rather aggressively before pulling her into a hug. She looked like she wanted to cry out of happiness, “Duckling look! Charlie has a girlfriend.” You laughed fondly, 

“Yes, darling, I do have working eyes and ears.” You giggled sweetly as Lucifer brooded at your reaction, and both Charlie and Vaggie laughed in tandem. 

“She’s so pretty!” He motioned to her, and you nodded, 

“Yes, dear. VAGGIE is Beautiful.” 

Vaggie sputtered, turning red at both compliments, “lovely to meet you, sir, ma’am.”

Charlie then introduced everyone: “These are our guests, Sir Pentious and Angel Dust!” 

The snake, Sir Pentious, frantically stood up straight, sending a wobbly salute, “Your majesty!” He sputtered, falling into the tray of cookies. Angel Dust swiped one before turning to your partner and sending him a wink, 

“Hi-ya, short king,” Lucifer turned pink, shaking his head. You tried to suppress your laughter, which made Angel’s face light up. 

“This is Husk, our bartender,” The cat saluted with his two fingers, much more casually than his snake counterpart, “and Niffty, our housekeeper.” Loud, frantic skittering was heard from the small roach Sinner as she approached. The woman, Niffty, skittered up your partner like a tree and held onto the collar of his jacket/

“Hello! I’m Niffty,” she purred, batting her eyes. “I clean.” She twirled her hair between her fingers before she turned toward you and seemed to analyze you. Lucifer plucked her off and gently placed her on the ground before brushing off and straightening his coat. He looked over towards you, and you smiled softly, urging him to focus on Charlie; before he could speak, the chandelier crashed into the ground; you jumped closer to the nearest person, who, unfortunately, was Alastor. Lucifer cleared his throat, waving his cane around, 

“Alright then.” He looked excited as he turned to you; oh god, he was going to start singing, wasn’t he? 

“It looks like you could use some help from the big boss of Hell himself.” His shoulders bounced as he materialized a throne for himself. You turned red as he winked at you subtly; you always did have a thing for his confidence when he displayed it, “Check out daddy's glowing reviews on Yelp.”

“Five stars! Flawless! Greater than great!” He looked at you happily, but you looked in pain as you joined in.

“With the punch of a pentagram, I wap-bam-boom, alakazam! Usually, I charge a sacrificial lamb, but you get the family rate!” You appeared beside him as he wrapped both arms around you, and Charlie snuggled into your cheeks.

“Thanks, Dad!” 

“Thanks, Hon!”

He seemed only to grow more confident as the scene changed once again to a restaurant, “Who needs a busboy, now that you've got the chef?” Lucifer snapped his fingers, and Alastor appeared next to the both of you in a waiter uniform. His ears were pinned back, and your body tensed; his smile was strained in anger. 

“Michelin-tasting menu, free à la carte. I'll rig the game for you because I'm the ref! Champagne fountains, caviar mountains, that's just to start!” He raised his cane in the air with delight as the scene changed once more, but not willingly by the King of Hell. His face contorted into one of confusion, then frustration as your outfit was altered into an old-timey ragtime dress. Lucifer snarled as Alastor pulled you close by your waist; he was speaking to Charlie while dancing with you. He seemed to look into your soul and dig up all of your relationship problems with Lucifer just by a single glance.

“Who's been here since day one? Who's been faithful as a nun? Makes you chuckle with an old-timey pun? Your executive producer.”

“That's true!” Charlie beamed as he spun you in to your daughter; she caught you with a giggle, 

“I'm your guy, your day-to-day. Your chum, your steadfast hotelier. Remember when I fixed that clog today?”

“I was stuck, thank you, sir!” Niffty chirped, snuggling up to Alastor. You gawked at the scene as Charlie acted as if this situation was a completely everyday occurrence.

“Oh, you!”

“I'm truly honored that we've built such a bond. You're like the child, the wife that I wish I had.” He pat Charlie on the hand and kissed you on the cheek, 

“Uh, what?” Lucifer choked in outrage, horns sprouting from his head as someone dared kiss what was his; warmth flooded your gut at his possessiveness. 

“I care for you, just like a daughter we spawned.” He nuzzled you close,

“Hold on now!”

“It's a little funny; you could almost call me dad.” He purred the end of the word towards you for the double entendre. You coughed, embarrassed; suddenly, the loud sound of a fiddle snapped you out of your stupor. Lucifer’s lips were a thin frown as he played his fiddle aggressively, but it still sounded phenomenal; a tendril shot out from beside you, and you were suddenly held against Alastors body as a piano fell on your boyfriend. You let out a horrified sound as you bounced on Alastor’s lap so you wouldn’t get crushed. Loud accordion sounds came from behind you, 

“Luci!” You breathed out a side of relief; his face softened momentarily looking at you, but he frowned when Alastor continued singing.

“They say that when you're looking for assistance, it's smart to choose the path of least resistance.”

“Others say that in your needy hour, there's no substitute for pure angelic power!” Lucifer’s wings spread wide as he shot into the air. Everyone looked at him in awe, including you, as you were pulled from Alastors' grip, and he held you tight, protectively. “Who just happens also to be your blood!”

“Sadly, there are times a birth parent is a dud. They say the family you choose is better.” Alastor, seemingly annoyed he couldn’t get to you, glared furiously at Lucifer.

“What a bunch of losers.”

“Can you butt out of my song?” 

“Your song? I started this!” 

“I'm singing it; I'll finish it!”

“Oh, you tacky piece of sh-” Lucifer dropped you unceremoniously on the ground, choosing instead to get right up into the demon’s face. Charlie rushed over to you, helping you to your feet as the side wall suddenly burst into pieces. Your arms shot out protectively around Charlie, your horns grew sharper, and your eyes flashed a dangerous color. 

“It's me, yes, it's me. I know you were all waiting for me. I'm here; what a gas. It took a while, but I'm present at last. It's me, it's me! Mimzy!” A sweet, plump woman stood in the rubble in a flapper uniform. You watched Lucifer blink a few times, 

“Who?”

The woman frowned, “Didn’t you just hear me?” She frowned a little at Lucifer. Once you assumed Charlie was safe and finally back in your regular clothes, you walked over to Lucifer and pulled him close by the arm. He tensed, looking down at you, who seemed disoriented and overstimulated. 

“You alright?” 

“Hmhm…” His frown deepened as he kissed the crown of your head as the woman talked to Alastor specifically,

“We can leave?” 

“No. Charlie’s worked hard for this; I’ll live.” 

“Cuddle time when we get home.” You purred, 

“Yes, please.” He smiled fondly down at you; his attention was only snapped back when Charlie walked over to Mimzy, asking about how close she and Alastor were. She flipped her hair,

“Oh yeah, we go way back! Ran in the same circles when we were alive.” Mimzy cozied up to Charlie, “You know this one used to frequent the club where I used to perform. He’s the only one I knew who could pound Whiskey like a sailor, then keep up with me on the dance floor.” She laughed, doing a little dance. Alastor made a sassy comment, as per usual, until she made eye contact with your boyfriend. Her eyes lit up in awe as she pulled Alastor down and whispered something harshly to him. Your stomach churned in a bit of protectiveness, and you snuggled closer with a slight grunt. He gave you a look before realizing what was going on, 

“Oh?” 

“Can it.” 

“Is my little Duckling jealous?” 

“I will kill you.” 

“No, you won’t!” He sang before Mimzy walked over, introducing herself with a giggle and a bow, 

“Pleased to meetcha Your Highness.” Lucifer looked pained as she spoke to him, 

“Charmed, I’m sure. My partner, (Y/n).” He nodded toward you, and you smiled sweetly, 

“Hello.” Mimzy frowned and chose to ignore your presence, almost acting like you didn’t exist. 

Having had enough of Mimzy and whatever this interaction was, you turned towards your daughter. “Charlie, dear, do you think a tour of the hotel is in order?” 

“That’s a great idea, Mom!” she beamed, breezing between Alastor and Lucifer, who declared he was going to join much to Lucifer's destain. This time, Lucifer kept you as close to him as possible and away from Alastor as much as he could; the deer seemed rather eager to try to grab your arm or hand to lead you down the hall. The tour was lovely, and Charlie looked excited as she shared her accomplishments at the hotel, no matter how small. You were so proud of her that you overlooked when Alastor had disappeared. Lucifer looked like he was zoning out and dissociating for most of it, which annoyed you. He wasn’t doing it on purpose, you knew that, but you weren’t exactly sure why he was so blase about the situation, especially when he was so excited this morning. Your hand interlocked with his, and you squeezed it; he squeezed back, snapping his attention back to the present as Vaggie opened the door to what seemed to be a balcony. 

“And we’ve almost been able to all of Angel’s drug stashes! Almost…” She laughed a little nervously as Charlie jumped in eagerly. 

“So once that’s out of the way, it should be much smoother sailing!” 

“That’s great, Charlie.” You beamed, and she smiled back just as brightly. 

“Well…uh…that is certainly something.” He waved his cane around, walking over to the edge of the balcony. You frowned at his behavior as Charlie hopefully asked, 

“So…what do you think?”

“About what?”

“The hotel!” She stressed as Lucifer began to sweat,

“Oh yes, it does look much better now, doesn’t it?” He chuckled uncomfortably, “Ya know? But I think this railing needs work, “one good push and you’d just go right over the edge!” He shoved you lightly in jest, and you cocked a brow. “Whoopie! Bye-Bye!” 

“What? No, no, the plan, Dad!” She groaned, almost desperate, “What do you think about using the Hotel to rehabilitate Sinners?” 

“Lucifer.” You warned, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. Your hand rested tenderly on his shoulder; he shoved you off to face his daughter. 

“Alright, I mean, look.” He clapped his hands together, “I love that you want to see the best in people, but these Sinners…you know, are just the worst!” You tensed behind him, shrinking in on yourself, and you saw both Charlie and Vaggie send looks in your direction. Even more self-conscious with those stares, your tail wrapped around your leg. “I, I don’t know how much you can realistically expect from them in Heaven.” He pulled on his collar, “Hohoo boy, Heaven is not as carefree as you might think. They have rules. LOTS of rules!” He stressed, “And they aren’t as open-minded as you’d hope.” 

“These are our people, Dad, I…I have to try. I mean-” 

He continued to make his point very obviously, forgetting that you were a Sinner too, “Our ‘people,’ Charlie, are AWFUL! They got gifted free will, and look what they did with it!” He motioned to the surrounding hellscape. “Everything is terrible! I just don’t want you to push yourself on the line for people like-” 

“Like who, Dad? Mom?” Charlie snapped, “Mom’s a Sinner. What does that make her?” Lucifer froze, turning to you, your arms wrapped around your body, hugging yourself, 

“I-I, well, she’s different.” He waved you off hurriedly, “She-” He was about to say more when a loud explosion was heard shaking the entire hotel. Lucifer moved quickly to grab you, pressing you against his chest in case the building were to collapse. “My point!” He gestured downward to the loan shark, shouting Mimzy’s name. Lucifer opened a portal, and Charlie, Vaggie, you, and himself stepped through it into the lobby. Mimzy laughed nervously, 

“I may be in trouble with some loan sharks.” Vaggie glared harshly at her as the hotel shook once again. The entire hotel exploded into chaos and fire; you dodged a piece of falling wood as Lucifer laughed, not at you, but at the situation. Lucifer couldn’t reach you, so you stepped back, bumping into Alastors' chest. His hand gripped your shoulder, and you noticed, even with the chaos, Mimzy shot Alasator a look. 

“Ya see, this is exactly what I’m talking about, Charlie!” Lucifer hummed, using this moment to emphasize his point cruelly. “It doesn’t matter how well-intentioned you are!” Charlie looked like she was about to blow a gasket, and you stepped forward to try to catch both of their attention. Alastor pulled you close so as too not to get crushed by another falling piece of debris. You murmured a soft thank you, and he smiled with almost a sort of genuine kindness in his eyes. 

“My dear, leave everything to me. It’s time I remind everyone why I’m here.” His claws dug into your shoulder as deafening static filled the air, “Just stay here, and you’ll be safe, darling.” Your eyes flicked to Lucifer, and the man didn’t notice, seemingly proud that his point was proven correct. You nodded, and Mimzy groaned, 

“Oh, finally! Took ya’ long enough!” 

The demon walked through the fire towards the entrance of the hotel, his microphone hitting the ground with a loud burst of green light, “A reminder to all not to mess with the radio demon!” Black tentacles erupted from the ground, spearing and slaughtering all the loan sharks who happened to be in his unfortunate path. Your jaw hung open in surprise, and Lucifer made a sound. Walking over to you and closing your jaw, Alastor grew in size, “I will devour every one of you!” Charlie joined you both at the entrance,

“Mhm, ya see? What did I tell ya? Charlie Sinners are violent psychopaths, hell-bent on causing as much pain and destruction as they can. There’s really no point in trying.” 

“Lucifer!” You snarled before Charlie could open her mouth; the man flinched, staring at you with wide eyes. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” You shouted, tossing your hands in the air; his brow furrowed, and he went to open his mouth. You slapped a hand over it. “I think you’ve talked enough today; I don’t know why you think you're so much better than these people! My people, ME!” You emphasized pointing to yourself, “I’m a Sinner, or did you forget that because I’m with the oh-so-powerful King of Hell? I’m just like every single one of these people.” 

“You’re different.” He argued, 

“How?” 

“Because, uh, because…you’re with me?” He was trying to think of another reason, one that you didn’t already comment on, “Because you’re in Hell for something stupid. You’re kind and sweet and take care of your people. Of Charlie and me-” 

“So? You think I’m the only Sinner like that around here?” He winced, “Why can’t you just be proud of what Charlie is trying to do here? Lilith would be so proud of her!” Charlie jumped in with tears in her eyes,

“You know what? At least Alastor is defending the hotel! It may be a bit more sadistic than I hoped. But he’s doing it for ME!” she exclaimed. “How can he and Mom have more faith in me than my father?” She crossed her arms over her chest insecurely. You walked away from the two of them, and Lucifer seemed torn about whether he wanted to go after you or Charlie. 

“Oh, drama!” Angel cheered excitedly, and you pressed your fingers to the bridge of your nose, taking in a deep breath. You stood outside next to Mimzy, trying to give a small smile, and Alastor shrunk back to his standard size and spun his microphone around with a laugh,

“Oh, I missed getting to let off steam.” 

“Oh, Alastor! What a fantastic show! Bravo, as always!” She walked up to him, successfully ignoring you. “Thanks for helping lil old me outta a tough spot; you’re always such a pal.” She mused as you cocked a brow over at Alastor. You watched a beam fell from the ceiling and crashed onto the ground below, “Oops.” She let out a strained laugh as your smile turned into a frown, “sorry about the mess. But I’m sure the lil’ bug can take care of it for ya.” 

“I think you should go, Mimzy. Now.” 

“Oh pfft, Alastor always such a kidder you! You are so funny!” She hummed, 

“He said you should go.” Your fingers tapped against your arm in warning, “I would listen. You ruined my daughter's Hotel.” Mimzy gave you a dirty look, 

“Alastor, are you really going ta’ let this broad fight your battles for ya’?” She laughed, and you bristled,

“Excuse me? Who do you think you are?”

“What? Am I wrong,” She waved you off, “A Sinner climbing up the ranks of Hell by sleeping with the king and queen. There’s no better way to describe you than a common whore. Going after Hell’s most powerful overlord now, too,” she tutted motioned to Alastor. “It’s rather sleazy if you ask me,” The smell of smoke began to fill the air, and Alastor looked curiously at you; it was common knowledge that Sinners tended to look or, in some cases, have powers based on how they died. Fire licked at your feet, and the horns on your head grew sharper and longer; your tail flicked around dangerously behind you, 

“Say that again.” 

“You’re a slut.” 

With a growl, you lunged at her; your patience was already worn completely thin by every other event that happened today. She shrieked, trying to get behind Alastor, who sidestepped her with a laugh. “Who the fuck do you think you are? You don’t fucking know me.” You pinned her up against one of the wooden pillars that cracked under the force of your charge. You couldn’t help but wonder if you had not found Lucifer and Lilith if you would’ve been an Overlord. “You don’t know my relationship. And I will kill you if you ever come near me or my family again. Do I make myself clear?” 

Alastor looked at you curiously; then, you felt his tendrils wrap around your waist, pulling you away from the woman, uncaring how charred they would get from your flames. “That was quite the show, darling, quite the show!” He held you up in the air, and you growled, squirming restlessly, “Mimzy. I mean it. Much like the young Queen stated, you deliberately brought danger to this place. Just to have me clean up your mess. I can’t have that here.” 

“But you love takin’ care a’ me.” She rubbed her shoulders, “Just like now! Plus!” She took a step towards him, “You don’t actually give a shit about this tacky place, do ya?” 

“Say it’s tacky again!” You snarled, and Alastor held onto you tighter; he glared at the woman, 

“Come on. I know you.” Mimzy hummed, “You heartless son. Of. A. bitch.” 

“You’re welcome if you actually want to give redemption a shot. But I think we both know that’s not really your style. So you need to leave.” She sputtered out her displeasure at the conversion before marching away down the hill, flipping everyone the bird as she left. Alastor looked up at you, and you huffed in frustration, “Unfortunately, I couldn’t let you kill her. She’s still an old friend. I hope you understand, my dear.” Finally, the demon turned to Lucifer, whose jaw was hanging open, “I believe this is yours.” Alastor dropped you in Lucifer's arms, and he held you tightly, giving you a look of shock at your prowess. You refused to meet his eyes. His forehead met yours hesitantly; you reluctantly gave him a nuzzle back. 

Never stew in your anger, Asmodeus told you; always try to forgive. 

“Love you.” He whispered so only you could hear, 

“I love you too…” you said quietly. After a moment, you notice Charlie take a deep breath as he carries you inside. 

“Dad…just help me.” She said softly. He sighed, placing you on the ground next to him, 

“I…I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?”

“Charlie!” He grabbed her shoulders, with a slight tremor in his hands, “You don’t understand. Heaven never listens. They didn’t listen to me; they won’t listen to you.” He crossed his arms insecurely and stepped away from his daughter. 

“You don’t know that!” He whipped around, and you saw the tears brimming in his eyes, 

“I do!” he exclaimed loudly, looking over at you, and you nodded gently, mouthing ‘tell her.’ With a trembling voice, he began to finally communicate with his daughter,

“You didn't know that when I tried this all before.” With a ball of golden light, he walked over to take Charlie’s hands. “My dreams were too hard to defend, and in the end, I won't lose it all again. Now, you're the only thing worth fighting for—more than anything. I'll shelter and adore you more than anything.” He pulled her into a hug, his hands caressing her hair tenderly. She pulled away abruptly.

“Dad, I don't need you to protect me from this-” Charlie started, hands still interlocked, 

“I just don't want you to be crushed by them like—Like I was.” 

“Dad…” She murmured before taking in a deep breath. “When I was young, I didn't really know you at all; I always felt so small. But I heard your stories, and I was enthralled. Thе tales about your lofty dreams, I listened breathlessly, imagining it could be me.” She looked away from him, and you realized what day she was talking about. You could picture it so clearly. Lucifer showed her his latest creation, a small magic gold box. When pressed, it would explode in brilliant light before fading to a small duck swimming in the water. The duck soon shot up into the sky, spreading all six wings elegantly. You stood in the room beside them, smiling tenderly at the scene before Lilith picked up Charlie, pulling her away from her father. You stood frozen for a moment as Lucifer looked at you sadly. Lilith placed a hand on the small part of your back, and you walked out the door with her. You had sent Lilith a weird look before she shooed you off as well; just before the door closed, you saw he had sent you and Charlie a longing look before the door clicked shut behind you. You placed a hand on your heart, and it squeezed painfully in your chest at the memory, “So, in the end, it's the view I had of you that showed me dreams can be worth fighting for... more than anything. I need to save my people more than anything.” Lucifer gaped at her breathlessly before smiling, eyes brimming with tears. 

“I've been dyin' to find out who you are.”

“I've been waiting, wanting the same thing,” Charlie stressed,

“Looks like the apple doesn't fall far,” He teased, looking at Charlie before shooting you a look; you scoffed, shaking your head fondly. She wasn’t taking after you at all, just him. His dreams and his passions, you only wished he could see it. 

“Took you a while.” Charlie flushed,

“I've missed that smile.” He took her cheek in his hands, and she nuzzled into his palm, 

“All that I'm hoping, now that my eyes are open, is that we can start again, not be pulled apart again, 'Cause, in the end, you are part of who I am.” His wings spread out widely, and you saw everyone in the hotel, minus Alastor, look up in awe as a golden portal opened up above them. You smiled, blowing them a kiss, and Lucifer grinned, picking Charlie up into the golden sky he had created.

You all could faintly hear them singing, “I'll support your dream, whatever lies in store.” 

“And who could ask for more?”

“More than anything,”

“more than anything.”

“I'm grateful you're my daughter more than anything,”

“I'm grateful you're my father more than anything.”

“More than anything,” They both sang and pulled one another into a tight hug once they were back on the ground. Lucifer held out his hand, and you took it gratefully, pulling you into the hug to join them. 

“Aw, that was sweet.” Sir Pentious sobbed. You pulled away with a small laugh, watching as Lucifer backed away from Charlie. 

“Okay,” he sighed shakily. I can get you a meeting, but once you’re in heaven, I-We won’t be able to go with you.” He motioned to you, “Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” She took his hand and rested her forehead against his knuckles,

“That’s my girl.” He let out a nervous breath, and you put your hand on his shoulder. You kissed his cheek softly and reached out to peck Charlie on the cheek, too.

“You’ll be wonderful.”  

“Mom. Dad…I love you.” 

“I love you too, Char Char.” His eyes flicked to you, and he leaned forward to whisper something in her ear. Her jaw dropped, and she seemed to suppress a squeal, nodding rapidly and bouncing on the tips of her toes. He pulled back a hand wrapping around your waist, “Good luck, kiddo.” With a burst of red and gold flames, the two of you disappeared back into your home. 

He pulled away as soon as you materialized back to the castle; he seemed to be taking rapid, deep breaths, “Luci? Are you alright?” 

“I love Charlie so much.” He sobbed loudly, and you cooed softly in relief, 

“Oh geez, You big softy,” you laughed, opening your arms so Lucifer could bury his head in your chest. 

“I love you too! I’m sorry I was an asshole!” He whined, “You’re so hot!” 

“Now, how exactly does that correlate?” you snorted, “You’re sad, not drunk.” 

“I was stressed and depressed, and I took it out on you, our people, and Charlie! I don’t care that you’re a Sinner! Plus, that radio fuckwad was hitting on you!” 

“I know, Baby.” You cooed, already feeling better about the situation with his weepy apology, “I’m just happy you saw the light,” You placed your two fingers under his chin. He looked up at you, “And are reconnecting with Charlie.” He smiled, his face turning rosy red and his eyes watering once again. “No more tears,” you said sweetly, pressing a kiss to his lips before pulling away. “I also can’t believe how jealous you were of Alastor.” His face twisted like he ate a sour lemon, 

“He was insinuating that I’m a bad father! That Charlie could just replace me!” Lucifer scoffed, “He was also insinuating that I was clearly a bad lover!” He poked you in the boob with his finger, “Which I’m not! I’m great!” He looked at you to agree with him, and when you didn’t nod right away, his flush turned to red anger. “HEY!” 

“I’m joking! I’m joking!” you cupped his cheeks. I couldn’t imagine being with anyone other than you and Lilith.” He nodded with a confident pout, his fingers twitched at his sides. “Let’s get out of these clothes, shall we?” He spoke softly; you raised a brow as his arms wrapped around your waist. “I want you to remember who you belong to,” He purred, eyelids drooping, tongue slithering out of his mouth. You made a surprised sound, 

“Now? Today? But earlier-”

“Fuck earlier. I finally get why Adam was so pissed I stole both his wives.” 

“Lucifer!” You scolded, red in the cheeks, 

“What?” His tongue lapped at your neck teasingly, “Is it so bad I need all of Hell to know you’re still my Queen?”

“No, I just,” You shivered, feeling his lips against your neck, “I want to make sure you’re comfortable- ah!” You yelped as he picked you up bridal style, your dress trailing against the ground. 

“Oh, I’m more than comfortable~” Lucifer churred, tossing you onto the bed, “Remind me, how do we feel about more babies?”

“Lucifer!” You laughed loudly, “You just reconnected with your only daughter, and you want more?”

“With you? Yes.” 

“Heavenly Father, forgive me; I have sinned.” You fanned yourself, “Sex before marriage, a baby out of wedlock.” 

“Hm.” Lucifer mused, his hand running up your tail, sending shivers down your spine, “A woman of God, huh? What would he say seeing you so easily tempted by the Devil?” he leaned close to your lips, 

“The others would punish me, I’m sure of it.” You just knew he could smell your arousal as his hand slid up under your dress, raising it above your legs, his hand squeezing your thigh. 

“And if the Devil gives you his spawn?” Lucifer’s hand trailed farther up, playing with the waistband of your thong; you nodded as he slid it down your legs. 

“Forced to repent over and over again. Shunned until I have the child, and then they’d regret ever saying anything. Because you’d slaughter them once the child was born.” You gasped, seeing his mouth at the center of your panties, a wet spot clearly already formed, 

“Hm, already this wet? Naughty.” He tossed them aside, leering down at you. “They’d see a baby with cute little horns and a tail, with rosy cheeks, and know it's mine. I’d kill them for thinking about hurting you. For taking our family away from us.” Lucifer purred, and you let out a needy whine; you felt yourself pulse around nothing. It’s been a while since you’ve been this turned on and even longer since you thought it towards Lucifer.  “Charlie would love a little sibling, don’t you  think?”

“Lucifer.” You whined loudly, your tail flicking around his leg, trying to pull him closer. “So mean teasing me like this,” 

“Mean? HA! Hardly.” He mused, “This is me being nice, but I can show you mean.” 

“No…” You wiggled beneath him. “I need you,” Lucifer’s eyes lit up as you cupped his cheek. He nuzzled his face into your hand, pressing gentle kisses to your palm. 

“I think I’ve made my sweet Duckling wait long enough,” he whispered, leaning down to rest his forehead against your own. “I love you so much.” 

“I love you too.” Tears welled up in your eyes as Lucifer cooed gently, whipping them away with one hand. “So much.” 

“I love you more,” His tongue licked at your cheeks, and you heard him purr softly. You gasped, feeling his fingers probe at your entrance, “Let me show you how I ruined Eden.” The way you nodded caused him to let out a laugh as he slid down your body, his forked tongue finding your clit quickly, for there was nowhere he felt more at home than under a wet cunt. You moaned immediately at the sensation, feeling him slide a finger alongside his magic tongue. You saw his horns begin to peak out of the top of his head as he groaned into you, “You taste so fucking good.” Your thighs clenched around your face, and he slid another finger inside your pulsing walls; your hands shot up, grabbing at the now fully emerged horns. Lucifer growled as you pulled him closer to your core, “Harder.”

“Fuck, you’re such a good boy Lucifer.” You tugged him harder, and his mouth pulled away from your cunt for him to moan hotly, mouth wet with your slick. “Want to put a baby inside me?”

“Yes, yesyesyesyes.” He begged, claws digging into the plush meat of your thighs, “Please. Please. Please.” Lucifer panted hotly, scissoring his fingers inside of you, stretching you nice and good. “Want to give you a baby so bad,”

“Bad boy. We aren’t even married,” You teased, bringing back your point from earlier. 

“I’ll marry you then!” He shouted, shooting his head up with tired eyes, “Second Queen of Hell, Beside me and Lilith, standing equal.” Lucifer bit his lip, “All of Hell will know to keep their eyes and hands off you.” You paused, embarrassing wet, pulsing on his fingers, “I have a ring and everything.” He rambled, sticking a third finger inside you, “Gonna ask in front of Charlie, but-”

“Did you just propose with your fingers in my pussy?”

Lucifer paused, his entire body froze, “Oh fuck.” You both stared at each other, “I promise this wasn’t the plan.” He whined, “Hrmph-” Lucifer’s eyes blew open as you smashed your lips against him. He tasted like you, and you couldn’t care less.

“You’re such an idiot. Of course, I’ll marry you.” You laughed, pressing your forehead against his, “Now make me scream so all of Hell knows who I belong to.” His pupils shrunk into slits as his finger pulled out of you, and you whimpered at the empty loss; you weren’t empty for long as you were immediately filled with his cock. You both groaned at the sensation, and your head tilted back into your pillows, toes curling; you didn’t even see him get his pants off. “God, fuck yes,” You mewled and whined, “it’s so good.” 

“I’m going to fuck you dumb.” He hissed, his tail protruding from his hips, wings unfurling behind him. “You won’t remember your name, and I’ll make you a drooling mess.” 

“Yes,” you begged. “Please, please, baby. I need you. Move, please.” 

“Anything for my future Queen.” He purred against your neck, sucking marks into the supple skin; his hips moved, and dragged himself slowly out of you. You both groaned in harmony at the sensation before slamming himself back into you, immediately hitting that spongey spot inside of you. You squeaked, eyelids and pussy fluttering; Lucifer’s crown smoked as he snarled, ramming into your body as you went loose against him. Your tongue lulled out of your mouth as he pistoned in and out of you at a brutal pace, immediately bringing you closer and closer to your peak, “You’re going to cum so many times, be prepared; I won’t be done with you until I make sure you’re pregnant.”

“Fucking Hell, Luci!” Your voice broke, clenching around him, cumming quickly for the first time that night as he chuckled. When you came down from your high, you looked at him with tired eyes, feeling him pulse inside you, his dick beating like a heart.

“You still remember where you are? I’m not doing a good job, am I?” You mumbled something incoherent as he snickered, pressing a kiss to your lips and shoving his tongue in your mouth. With shaky arms, you wrapped them around his shoulders as he moved slowly in and out of you, dragging against your oversensitive walls deliciously slowly.

“You’re gonna fill me up?” He nodded, groaning hotly against your mouth, “fuck me stupid, so I’m only thinking about your thick cock?” 

“Yes,” Lucifer hissed out a groan, hips bucking, causing your eyes to flutter into the back of your skull. “Going to fill you up, make you a mom, have another baby,” He panted, pulling away from your mouth to rest his forehead against your shoulder as his voice cracked.

“Good boy. Such a good boy for me,” Your toes curled as he hiked your legs up to rest on his hip bones. The new angle has you seeing stars behind your eyelids; it allowed him better access to your G-spot and better access to your clit with his fingers. “FUCK LUCI!” That combination seemed to spur him again as you came for a second time, clutching around him in a trembling motion while arching your back. He snarled, grabbing onto your breast, manhandling it roughly as your orgasm rocked through your body; he pulsed once before spilling deep inside you with a heated moan. His body is quivering, holding you, hips to hips, and you feel your womb fill up with his warmth. It seemed Lucifer was the one who was fucked dumb, mumbling and whining with his oversensitivity. “You okay? Need water?” You ask quietly, moving up to touch his cheek; he nuzzled against you with a low purr but shook his head. He cracked his eyes open with a cheeky look, 

“Just making sure it takes.” 

“God, you’re gross.” You tossed your head back with a laugh, “It’s going to take more than one time probably…Plus, who knows if it is even possible? I’m a Sinner, and we can’t have kids normally-”

“I’m built differently.”

You snorted, “Who taught you that phrase? Fizz?”

“Unimportant.” Lucifer’s face turned red, “We’ll keep trying until it sticks; after all, if I’m known for one thing, it’s breaking the rules.” He grinned, his tongue flicking out, teasing you before he let out a slight hiss, “Stop clenching around me, Duckling; you’re going to kill me.”

“Just milking you, making sure to get every last drop.” You teased lightheartedly before you squealed, “Did you just cum again?”

“Stop.” He whined loudly, “That was hot!” You burst into laughter as Lucifer pouted as he weakly slid out of you. Using his fingers to push his seed back into you, arching your hips up higher, you rolled your eyes fondly. 

“Lucifer?” 

“Yeah?”

“Did you mean it?”

“Whatever do you mean? Which thing? I say a lot of things!” 

“That you want to marry me? Start a family?”

“Oh, my sweet thing,” He dropped your hips, and with a bounce, he was hovering over you, his wings spread wide, looking like the angel he once was. “Of course, you’re my fiance; you did say yes,” Lucifer kissed your lips sweetly, “No takebacks.” He mumbled against your lips,

“As if I ever would.” 

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 15-Cowgirl-Illumi/Reader

Notes: it's tech week. Yay. oh my god the play is in like a couple days. Yay. anyway, enjoy

.....

It was five till nine when you found a man splayed out on the second story landing of your apartment building. You were on the way back from a dinner date with your friend, a bit tipsy from the celebratory couple drinks you had enjoyed and the body of an unconscious man had almost sent you tumbling to the hard cold floor. Your apartment was nice, but not nice enough to heat the cold concrete stairwells and small floors that lead to the couple doors on each floor. 

Your heeled shoe hit the man with a thump, and you winced. 

“Oh gosh I'm so sorry!” You exclaimed, moving backwards a few feet and hiding your face. The man slumps, falling over sideways. His head hits the ground with a rather loud thump, curtains of smooth black hair billowing around him. You frown. Pearing closely, your eyes widen as you notice how beat up he is. His strange clothes have several cuts in them, his knuckles and parts of his legs are bruised. There's spots of blood on the green of his dirty outfit. Your heart stills. He must be unconscious.

You rush forward, crouching out and reaching out a tentative hand to poke the stranger. He didn't wake up when you accidentally jammed a heeled shoe into his side, but you didn't want to risk anything. 

“Um sir?” You whisper, poking him a little harder with a single, straight knuckled finger. “Sir, are you alright?”

The man doesn't so much as twitch. You sigh, running a hand through your hair. Just what you needed, an unconscious man a few feet away from your front door. You glance at the only other door on this floor, standing cold and still. You could ask your neighbor, a cranky older lady for help, but she was most likely asleep at this hour. You sighed, gently grabbing the man's shoulders and straightening him, pulling his hair off the cold floor. He certainly has a lot of hair. You brush it away from his face, taking in the cuts on his face, and the small bruise on his cheekbone. He looks bad, like he's been in a fight and it's honestly something you don't want to deal with. You're reaching for your phone when a loud ring tone echoes through the air.

It takes you a moment to realize it's not coming from your phone. You still in the silent hall of your apartment building, considering what to do. It seems inappropriate to answer a stranger's phone, you think. So you let it ring, considering what you should do. And then, a few seconds after the ringing stops, it starts again. You sigh, grabbing the phone and taking a deep breath to calm yourself. 

The phone says it's a call from ‘that damn clown’. Doesn't sound promising, you sigh to yourself, but it's better than no one. You answer the phone, taking a deep breath. 

“It's rare that you don't pick up on the first ring~” The person on the other line says. “Is something wrong?”

“Um,” You start, clearing your phone. “So your friend is passed out on the floor of my apartment building.”

A beat of silence echoes on the other end of the phone. You run a hand through your hair, sighing out the tensions as much as you can. The man on the other end of the line chuckles finally.

“That so?” He laughs. He certainly has a striking voice. “And who would you be?”

You sigh. He doesn't seem that worried, it seems. 

“Im Name,” You say, and then pause for a split second. Maybe it was a poor idea to give this random man your name. But too little too late. You shrug it off as you continue.

“I just got home from dinner and discovered your friend?” You pause, words lilting up at the end. The man chuckles, urging you to continue. “He's completely knocked out and all bruised up. I was considering calling an ambulance but then his phone rang. Twice.”

“Ah, I see.” The man stifles another laugh on the other end. “You can just leave him there my dear. Don't call an ambulance, whatever you do.”

“Really?” You ask, kind of worried. The man stifles another laugh, sounding much too amused for the situation. 

“Yeah, he should be fine. Thanks dear.”

He hangs up. You frown, pulling the phone away from your ear and glaring at it in surprise. What an odd man. He doesn't seem that worried about his so called friends safety of his injuries. You look over him again, taking in the extent of his injuries. You can see a line of blood leaking through the jaked line of fabric. You didn't know how you hadn't noticed it before, the giant cut in his chest. It looks bad. And the man had said no ambulance. Standing there in the hallway, you deliberate for a second. And then, making your mind up, you reach down. Picking up the man as carefully as you can, drag him into your apartment. 

✯✯✯

Your friends always said you had no survival instinct. You were deemed first to die in a horror movie, and most likely to fall to a serial killer. Maybe they were right, you mused to yourself as you dropped the injured man on your couch, spreading his long hair on the pillow before you set his head down. After all you had brought some random injured man into your home with barely a second thought. You sigh, returning to the couch with your first aid kit and surveying his injuries. Their mostly surface level cuts and bruises, besides of course the large gash in his chest. You decide to start on that, and ignore the rest. 

It takes you a long time to get his shirt off. First, because you can't figure out how it works and then second because you're trying not to wake him up. But finally, you get the weird green shirt thing he wears off. You wince as you take in the cut. It's a clean cut at least, but it's still a large gash right between his pecs. Blood blooms from it, rolling down his chest and close to the old towels you had covered your couch with. 

You wince, rooting around for the rags and alcohol you keep in here. You don't know if you should attempt to stitch up the gash or not, but you start with cleaning the outsides of blood, and then pressing a clean cloth against the wound as hard as you can, until the blood stops flowing. 

Then, you panic text your nurse friend who informs you it's probably best to just bandage the cut and not attempt to stitch it up with a sewing needle and no experience. So you wrap up his chest in tight bandages, and then apply some of your favorite hello kitty stickers to the cuts on his face and chest. You just ignore the bruises, unsure of what to do. 

When he's all finally bandged up and sleeping properly, you sigh in relief. Scooting back you wipe your wrist over your forehead, cleaning the sweat from your face. Your hands are stained with blood and the dirt you had whipped from his chest and face with a clean wet rag. What a night this had been. Nothing better to sober you up from a night of drinking than an unconscious man outside of your apartment. 

You look over at him, laying still and silent like sleeping beauty on your couch. He's actually quite pretty, you can't help but notice. It was hard to tell with all the grime and blood covering his face, but now that he's all clean it kind of dawns on you. He also has quite a nice physique, even with the giant gash across his chest. He looks a bit like a porcelain doll from the neck up, with very pale skin and pitch black hair. 

You sigh, turning away from the couch and moving to the sink to wash your hands. You humm slightly as the water runs the blood and gunk from your hands. Hopefully he won't be angry with you when you wake up. His friend on the phone was an odd one, and based on his outfit and the numerous cuts and bruises he was probably weird too. Maybe a hunter, or something like that. They were certainly odd folk. You scrub more soap into your hands, watching as the pink suds flow down the drain. Blood is surprisingly hard to get off your skin. You don't know why you're surprised, it's not like you spent your days getting blood out of clothes and various surfaces. You're just a normal person working a normal job. 

You turn off the sink, stratified with your clean hands and humm slightly into the silence. You turn around, intent on picking up your first aid kit but when you lay eyes on the couch you still. There's no one there. 

For a moment, you think you hallucinated the entire thing. But the towels you had laid down on the couch before you set him down are still there, with spots of blood and everything. You frown, and then you look up. 

The man is clinging to your walls like a monkey, his fingers leaving dents in the wall. He's situated in a corner, hair floating around him like an angry cloud, black eyes glaring right at you. 

“Get off my ceiling!” You shriek, running another hand through your hair as you watch his shape nails dig into the wall, flakes of paint and drywall fluttering down to the ground. Your landlord is going to kill you. 

“Who are you?” The man hisses. “How did I get here?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes sky high. So he was a weird one. 

“I'm Name, and I found you unconscious outside of my apartment.” You say, slowly and carefully like you're speaking to a wild animal. You suppose you are in a way. The man's muscles bulge as he digs his hands deeper into the wall. Spots of blood have started to leak through the bandage you wrapped around his chest. You wince. 

“What did you do to me, woman?” The man demands, although a bit more worked up than before. His hair has sunk around him, his nails relaxing their death grip on the wall. His eyes are very big, and very black. Like a doll. He's rude as hell though.

“I patched you up.” you roll your eyes. “I was gonna call an ambulance but your friend said not to.”

“My friend? You're lying. I don't have friends.” The man bristles again, as more blood leaks into the cotton of the bandages. You wince, wishing he would come down so you could deal with the large gash in his chest probably about to drip blood all over your floors. 

“The man that called. ‘That stupid clown’ or something I don't know.” You say, fingers doing quotations in the air. “Can you come down please? My landlord is going to raise the rent price if you keep leaving holes in the walls.”

The man drops to the ground with barely a sound, but still plasters his body against the white wall. You sigh. He reminds you a bit of a black cat. You can almost visualize the cat ears bristingling along with his long hair. You stifle a small giggle, standing still by the kitchen sink. He would probably startle if you moved. 

“Are you helping her?” The man asks, flexing his arms experimentally. You frown, tilting your head.

“Who? What are you talking about?” You say, running a tired hand through your hair. “Can you come lay down on the couch again, your wound is bleeding.”

The man doesn't move, standing silent and still in the corner of your living room, right beside one of your large potted ferns. It looks pretty silly, but you have a feeling this man could kill you in an instant, so you don't laugh. Instead, you smile as friendly as you possibly can muster. 

“I'm just gonna deal with the blood coming from your chest wound again.” You say, taking a few steps towards the couch. The man surveys you, big black eyes scanning you from head to toe. Finally, after filling the apartment with awkward silence, the man speaks.

“You have no nen.”

“What?” You ask, wondering if perhaps a lack of blood is making him talk crazy. “What's nen?”

The man tilts his head, black hair cascading around his shoulders and chest again, until you watch in relief as he walks forward, plopping himself back on the couch. You sigh, grabbing for a cloth and wetting it in the kitchen sink, before moving towards the couch. You half expect him to jump up on the ceiling again, but the man stays still, body a line of tension as you stop in front of him, setting your damp cloth down on the table. 

“Lay down.” You say, unwinding the bandages. The man frowns. 

“Do it this way.” He demands, glaring up at you as you discard the bloody wrappings in the garbage can. You frown, crossing your arms.

“I can't clean the wound this way,” You say, tapping a foot impatiently. “Just lay down please.”

The man stares at you blankly for a moment, and then flops down on the couch with a small sigh. You swear you watch him roll his eyes as he lays there, spots of blood rolling down his well built chest. He's handsome. Too bad he's a damn asshole. 

You take the wet rag you dropped on the table, and gently begin to wipe away the blood from the edges of the cut. The man doesn't so much as whimper, or jostle at all. Silence fills the room, broken only by small even breaths and the sound of your feet tapping against the floor. Finally, you break the silence.

“What's your name, anyway?” You ask, unfolding your rag and turning to a side that isn't completely bloody. The man blinks at the ceiling.

“Why do you want to know?” He asks, even line of his voice interrupted with a slight hitch of breath as you accidentally brush over his wound. You sigh.

“You know my name.” You say, carefully edging around the wound. The man considers, blinking slowly and languidly like a sleepy cat.

“Illumi,” he finally says. You nod.

“It's nice to meet you, Illumi.” You say, smiling down at him as you reach down for the bandages. The man frowns.

“You have to stitch it up.” He says, gesturing down at the clean gash on his chest. You frown, picking up the first aid box and rifling through it. 

“I don't have any of the numbing stuff they use at the hospital,” You say, running a bloody hand through your hair. Wincing, you wonder how disheveled and bloody you look compared to the blinking porcelain doll before you. 

“I have a high pain tolerance.” Illumi says. 

“But i—”

“Just do it.”

“Fine,” You mutter, pulling the pack of surgical needles your nurse friend left behind for you, just in case. “But don't complain when it hurts, and when the stitching is uneven.”

Illumi simply grunts, lying down still and closing his blinking doll eyes. 

Your hand trembles as you thread the curved needle, and you dry your sweaty hand on your pants before you grip it tightly in your fingers. You know a bit about this from when your friend would study in college, but you've never actually done this yourself. 

“I'm sorry,” You mutter, lining up the needle with the edge of the cut. “This is gonna hurt.”

Illumi doesn't make a sound when the needle pierces his skin. You move as fast as you can, piercing only enough skin to sew the skin shut. It's uneven, but it's not bleeding anymore at least. You don't breathe until you're finished, until you toss the curved needle in the trash and wash your hands one final time. 

“There, all done.” You sigh, running another hand through your hair. You know for a fact that there's most definitely blood in your hair. You feel icky and dirty. 

Illumi opens his eyes, blinking blankly at the ceiling for a moment, before sitting up on the couch. 

“Your work is adequate, I suppose.” He says, sitting gingerly on the edge of your couch. You roll your eyes, searching in the first aid box for the bandages. 

“A simple thank you would work just fine.” You mutter. You can't find the bandages in the box. “Do you see a roll of white bandages? I'm sure I had some left.”

“Behind you,” Illumi says, nodding his head behind you. 

You turn, spotting the roll of white bandages on the floor behind you. They hadn't unrolled, thank goodness, but you hoped they were still sanitary. Sighing, you bend down, picking up the roll of bandages.

“You should keep better track of your stuff—” Illumi says, interrupting himself with a small choke, followed by a rather obvious cough. You stand up, bandages in hand and turn around.

“Hey, are you ok? Did the stitches pop?” You say, moving towards Illumi to check. He glares suddenly, crossing his legs on the couch.

“Stop,” he says. You pause, freezing in place. He coughs again, frowning. 

“You have blood on you,” He says, voice sounding a bit odd. “You should shower.”

“I mean I was going to anyway,” you mutter. “But what about your chest—”

“I'll do it myself.” Illumi says, voice stoic and cold. You raise an eyebrow. He sure is acting odd. Illumi just glares, holding out a hand for the bandages demandingly. Rolling your eyes, you toss him the bandages, and leave for your shower. 

✯✯✯

Illumis body aches. The gash really hurts, pulses beneath a layer of clean white bandages. But he's not worried about that. No, what he's really worried about is the swelling in his lower area. And not the kind from the bruise on his calf. For some reason, when that woman had bent over, Illumis dick had decided that it wanted to swell to life. It had then instructed his eyes to stare at it, and then to stare at your boobs when you stood up. His dick was the culprit. Illumi sighs, lying on the couch and staring up at the white ceiling of your apartment. It's a nice apartment. You're a nice girl. Very pretty too. But it's not like Illumi had noticed that or anything. Clearly, since he was injured, maybe his dick also thought it should be swelling up as well. 

The sound of the shower running in the other room hits Illumis ears. You're probably naked in there. It's how you should be in a shower. You would be weird for not being unclothed in the shower. Illumi doesn't know why his brain wants to fixate on your lack of clothing. Or the water tumbling down your body. Illumi sighs, closing his eyes against the bright light of your apartment. This night was a disaster. He had been defeated, caught unawares by his target and cut across the chest. He had barely escaped up a few flights of stairs before he had passed out against a random wall. And then he had woken up here, with a pretty girl who patched up his wounds. 

Illumi groans as the small pits of blood left in his body refuse to do his bidding, instead rushing to flood his dick. Fine. while you're in the shower he’ll take care of his needs and get it over with. Illumi lets out a sigh of relief, and presses a hand against his dick.

✯✯✯

You switch off the shower, tossing up your hair in a towel. You decided to take a quick shower, a bit worried about the weird guy on your couch. Illumi is really odd. Rude, standoffish, but really really handsome. Probably involved in some sort of illicit business, based on how warry he was about you. You sigh, tapping your serum into your skin.

You're almost done with your skincare routine when you hear it. A moan of pain from the living room.

You rush out of the bathroom, not really noticing your own nakedness, only worried for Illumis pain. He hadn't made that sound when you were stitching him up. Your mind was filled with gruesome images of him bleeding all over the floor or—

That wasn't what you got. Instead you got Illumi safe on your couch, his big black eyes staring somewhere below your collar bones. His hand wrapped around his hard cock. 

Your mouth drops open, as you stand there for a moment, genuinely shocked. And then you gulp up the saliva that dropped into your mouth as your eyes strayed down where they shouldn't and looked up to apologize.

Illumis eyes are darting between your boobs, your face, and your pussy. His hand is still clenched around his twitching dick. He looks like a deer in the headlights as you look at him. You flush, hints of arousal starting to trace their hot fingers down your body.

“I thought you were hurt.” You say lamely, as the towel drying your hair falls to the ground with a plop. Illumi frowns, a flush high on his cheekbones.

“I am.” He mutters, a slight hint of shame slinking its way onto his face. His eyes do their best to leave your body, black eyes staring directly into your own. 

“Oh,” You say, tilting your head in confusion. “You are?”

Illumi nods, ears burning a light pink. 

“I'm swollen.” He mutters, hand still clenched around his dick. Your mouth drops open again. Is he trying to seduce you? It's working, in a kind of awkward, cute way. Not to mention you wanna get him inside you. He's big. You giggle, shoving down your embarrassment as you move towards him, still naked.

“Oh no,” You say, voice trembling a bit. “I should probably check that out.”

Illumi nods, jerking his head up and down as you move closer. He moves to get up but you shake your head. 

“No, stay where you are.” You say, clambering onto the couch and straddling his legs. Illumi’s hand leaves his dick as his eyes blink, falling slightly. 

“I don't want to agitate the stitches,” You explain, playing with your pussy a bit. You're already quite wet, embarrassingly. Apparently all from seeing Illumi with his dick clenched awkwardly in his hand. Or maybe it was the way he looks at you. He probably doesn't realize it, but he looks at you like you're the most beautiful creature on the planet. 

“Are you clean?” You ask, damp hair falling down your back and dripping water down your back.

“Yes.” Illumi says, voice short and clipped. You grin, lining him up with your dripping entrance. 

“Me too. And I have an iud.” You say, tilting your head back as you lower yourself down, spearing yourself on him. You moan loudly, your back arching as he fills you, as he twitches inside you. Embarrassingly, you know you're not going to last long. You must be quite pent up. 

Illumis hands come up, gripping your waist tightly as he bottoms out inside of you, as your walls clench down around him. His hair fans out below him on the pillow, his ears and cheeks tinted a pale rosy pink. He looks about as undone as you're going to get him, and you find you like it very much. 

You set a medium pace, trying not to overwhelm him. He is still injured. You're careful to grip his sides, avoid the tender cut you stitched yourself. Illumi grunts. 

“I apologize. I am not very experienced.” He says, turning his eyes away from you. He almost looks ashamed of his inexperience. You smile, slamming down onto him again.

“You're doing great.” You smile, a moan tearing out of your throat. “Look, I'm gonna cum.”

Illumi looks where you're gesturing, at where your bodies are connected. Your pussy, stretched around him, seems to mesmerize him. He stares, eyes wide and curious, body tensing with arousal. You feel your own body trembling, your orgasm just looming on the edge of the horizon. 

“I'm gonna cum.” Illumi informs you, eyes moving from the place where your bodies connect, to stare at your boobs, bouncing up and down as you move. And finally, they land squarely on your eyes. You whimper, body trembling as your orgasm overwhelms you. 

‘Cummmig!” You whimper, bottoming out on him one final time, body trembling as you milk him for every spurt of cum he lets out. A small grunt leaks from between his clenched lips as he looks at you. The two of you keep eye contact as you cum together, falling off the cliff and tumbling towards the ocean below.

✯✯✯

Illumi is gone the next morning. You wake up groggy, body hurting from having slept on the couch all night and the first thing you see is a business card.

‘Illumi Zoldyck 

Professional Assassin

***-***-****’

The words ‘call me’ are scrawled in the corner. You almost fall off the couch in shock.

.....

Endnotes: how much Sexual Education do you think the Zoldycks give their kids. Probably none, lol. They are like essentially homeschool kids, right??

[blackenedsnow]

that diner scene but instead of tara, art gives the ring to reader?(tara and dawn are still there though,) she’s oddly into him, lets say she LIKES LIKES clowns.

red flags and long nights

WARNING: None

PAIRING: Art the Clown x (Fem) Reader

NOTE: I was praying for an ask like this!! Thank you so much for your request and I hope you enjoy 🖤

SUMMARY: After a party, you find yourself oddly entranced by a clown who shouldn’t be there.

The night air was crisp, carrying the remnants of laughter and music from the party you’d just left. The rhythmic clicking of heels near you barely registered; your mind was elsewhere, lost in a tangle of thoughts you couldn’t quite unravel.

Behind you, Tara and Dawn’s voices filled the space, their conversation loud and animated.

You didn’t catch anything they were saying, too deep in your own world. Something about tonight had left you unsatisfied, like the thrill you were looking for was just out of reach. The party had been fine, sure, but no one there sparked any interest. No one made your heart race.

Maybe you’re too picky.

You barely noticed when you reached Dawn’s car. Tara’s voice finally broke through the haze.

“Oh, you are not driving.”

Dawn pouted, twirling her keys around her finger. “I’m fine,” she slurred.

“Dawn.” Tara’s voice was firm, exasperated. “Give me the keys.”

Dawn groaned dramatically, leaning back against the car. “Ughhh.”

You smirked, finally speaking up. “Yeah, Tara, let her live a little.”

Tara shot you a glare, but it was softened by a smile. “I don’t feel like dying tonight.”

The two of them continued their playful argument, Tara’s hand outstretched and Dawn stubbornly holding the keys just out of reach. You let their banter fade to white noise, your gaze drifting away.

That’s when you saw him.

Across the street, illuminated by a flickering streetlamp, stood a figure. Tall, hunched just slightly, with a black-and-white harlequin outfit and a starkly painted face. A clown.

He was staring straight at you, his smile wide and frozen, eyes glinting like shards of obsidian. The chill that ran through you wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Your breath caught, and your heart thudded a little harder in your chest.

“D,” Tara’s voice trembled slightly, a mixture of disbelief and unease. “D, look.”

Dawn turned her head, squinting through the shadows. When she spotted him, her eyes widened. “Holy. Shit.”

But unlike Tara, she didn’t sound scared—just impressed.

Tara’s face contorted into a grimace. “That’s not funny. I’m about to scream.”

Dawn grinned, undeterred. “Heeyyy! Handsome!”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips. Okay, yeah, maybe you did like clowns. The guys at the party didn’t stand a chance.

Dawn shot you a mischievous glance. “My friend wants your number!”

The clown didn’t move, didn’t blink. He just kept smiling. The static grin should have been unnerving, but to you, it was… hot.

Dawn tilted her head, her grin widening. “Come buy us dinner!”

Tara groaned. “Shut the fuck up!”

“What?” Dawn laughed. “Maybe he’ll drive us home.” She dangled the keys with a playful smirk.

You couldn’t help but let your gaze linger on him. The likelihood of seeing this guy again was slim, but some wild, reckless part of you almost wished you would. He was still just standing there, still as a statue, and yet his presence felt heavy, intentional. He most likely was just dressed for Halloween.

But then, as you turned to Dawn, then back to him, he was gone.

A cold breeze swept through the street, and an eerie silence settled around you. The spot where he had been standing was empty, nothing but shadows and pavement.

“Where'd he go?” you whispered, a strange pang of disappointment tightening in your chest.

Tara grabbed both you and Dawn by the arms, her grip firm. “Let’s go. Come on, let’s just go.”

You didn’t resist as she guided you toward the diner down the street, your mind still spinning.

The bell above the diner door chimed as the three of you stepped in. The place was mostly empty, with the stale scent of old coffee and fried food hanging in the air. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a cold glow over the cracked vinyl booths and faded countertops.

Dawn stretched her arms over her head, swaying slightly. “I gotta piss,” she announced before disappearing toward the restrooms.

You and Tara exchanged glances, then slid into one of the booths. The cold from outside hadn’t quite left you, and you shivered as you sank into the seat.

For a moment, you were quiet, your gaze lingering out the window, thoughts drifting back to that painted smile. The way he’d stared. The way you hadn’t felt the fear you probably should have.

You glanced at Tara sheepishly. “So… about the clown…”

Tara’s eyes widened. “Seriously? Are you fucking serious?”

You shrugged, playing with the edge of a napkin. “What? He was kinda…” You trailed off, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Kinda what? Terrifying?”

You shrugged, a sly smile forming. “Hot.”

Tara leaned back, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You need therapy.”

After a bit of talking back and forth, Dawn came back, collapsing into the seat across from you with a dramatic groan. “That was the longest piss I’ve ever taken.”

Tara didn’t even look up. “Thank you for sharing that.”

Dawn smirked and pulled out her phone, scrolling through it with a lazy swipe of her thumb. “This guy wants me to meet him at his apartment. Right now.”

Tara snorted. “What a shocker.”

Dawn grinned wickedly. “I told him I would.”

Both you and Tara stared at her. “What?”

Dawn’s laughter bubbled up, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m kidding. I have a little more self-respect than that.”

Tara leaned forward, deadpan. “If you only had a brain.”

Dawn stared blankly at her, unblinking.

Tara smirked. “I’ve been wanting to use that one all night.”

You giggled, and Dawn rolled her eyes. “Congratulations.”

You were about to reply when a shift in the air caught your attention. You glanced past Dawn and froze. There he was. The clown. Your clown, if Dawn was to be believed. He was stepping into the diner, that same eerie grace to his movements. His dark eyes flicked to you immediately.

Tara noticed too, her body going rigid beside you. She tried to keep her face neutral, but you could practically hear her mental screaming.

Dawn looked up from her phone and at him. “Look, it’s your boyfriend,” she quipped.

He didn’t respond, just stared at you and Tara. His gaze lingered on Tara. She shifted uncomfortably. Then his eyes slid back to you, and that bright, unsettling grin returned.

He brought both gloved hands under his chin and batted his eyelashes, like some cartoonish sweetheart. You couldn’t help yourself—you mirrored the gesture back, a shy smile tugging at your lips.

Tara’s elbow jabbed into your side, hard. “Are you fucking serious?” she hissed. Her jaw clenched and looked at Dawn. “I think we should get our food to go.”

Dawn blinked. “Why?”

Tara gestured to the clown, who hadn’t moved an inch.

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Him? That’s Y/N’s boyfriend. Be nice!” She huffed and stood up, sauntering over to the clown like he was just another party guest. Without missing a beat, she plopped down on his lap and pulled out her phone.

The clown’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t push her away. Dawn snapped a few selfies, giving a peace sign and a smug grin. Satisfied, she hopped off, sauntering back to the table. She flashed you a grin. “Sorry for stealing your man.”

You rolled your eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

Tara’s hands clenched around her napkin. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Dawn shrugged. “What? Did you think he was gonna hack me up into little pieces or something?”

A tired-looking guy approached the booth, eyes flicking between the clown and the three of you. He sighed, clearly out of patience. “What can I get for ya, buddy?”

The clown didn’t move, didn’t speak. His gaze was locked onto yours, the intensity almost tangible.

The guy scratched the back of his neck. “If you don’t order anything, you’re gonna have to leave.”

Dawn leaned toward the clown, flashing her phone. “You already have eight likes!” she teased.

Still, he didn’t budge. Didn’t blink.

The waiter sighed again and walked away, muttering under his breath. The silence settled back in, thick and heavy.

You and the clown stared at each other, your heart pounding. You knew you should be afraid. Should be. But all you felt was the thrill of it, the kind of adrenaline you’d been craving all night.

The clown then glided toward the booth in front of you with that same eerie grace, like he was floating just above the ground. He paused by the small vending machine bolted to the wall—a dusty, half-forgotten thing stocked with cheap trinkets. He slipped a coin into the slot. The soft clink of the metal echoed louder than it should have in the tense quiet.

He turned the knob slowly, a twisted smirk tugging at the corners of his painted mouth. With a mechanical pop, the plastic bubble containing a toy ring tumbled into the dispenser tray. He plucked it out, cracked it open, and discarded the plastic shell like it was useless. Then, without hesitation, he spun on his heel and headed straight for you.

Your breath caught as he stopped right in front of you and knelt down. Even kneeling, he was still at eye level. His grin stretched wider, those dark eyes gleaming with something unreadable. In his gloved hand, he held the ring—a cheap, silver-colored band with two hearts on it.

“Aw!” Dawn cooed.

Your face burned, heart thundering. You managed a flustered smile, reaching your hand out. He took it gently, his grip surprisingly soft and careful for someone so… unnerving. He slid the ring onto your finger with an exaggerated flourish, then tilted his head, as if waiting for your reaction.

You giggled, cheeks flushed. You touched the ring, making a sweet little gesture of your own—fingertips to your lips before blowing him a delicate kiss. “Thank you, handsome,” you said, voice soft and teasing.

The clown’s eyes sparkled. He reached up and tipped his tiny hat, the gesture somehow gentlemanly and sinister all at once. Without a sound, he stood and sauntered toward the back of the diner, his movements smooth and theatrical.

The second he was out of sight, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Oh my god,” you whispered, staring down at the ridiculous ring with a dazed smile.

Tara stared at you, horrified. “What the fuck, Y/N? There were so many guys at that party, and you chose this freak?”

You shrugged, a dreamy smile on your face. “He’s… unique.”

Before Tara could launch into another lecture, the waiter returned, carrying a large, greasy pizza. He set it down in front of you with a tired smile. “Here you go, ladies.” He glanced at each of you, eyes narrowing slightly. “You three okay?”

Dawn waved him off with a grin. “Oh, he’s harmless.”

You nodded, still flustered. “He’s… actually very sweet.”

The waiter’s gaze shifted to Tara, who just nodded tightly, her lips pressed into a thin line. He sighed. “Alright. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him. Enjoy your pizza.” He shot a glance toward the back of the diner before walking away, shaking his head.

The three of you dug into the pizza, the grease and melted cheese offering a comforting distraction from the weirdness of the night. Conversation flowed in fits and starts—Dawn complaining about her aching feet, Tara still muttering about how insane the whole situation was. You just kept glancing at the ring on your finger, your mind swirling with thoughts you didn’t dare say out loud.

Then, a sudden commotion snapped you out of it.

A door slammed open, and the sound of angry yelling filled the diner. You turned just in time to see the waiter dragging the clown by the arm, his face red with frustration. “I’ve had enough of your shit!” he shouted, shoving the clown toward the exit. “Take your shit and don’t come back!”

He grabbed the garbage bag of belongings and hurled it out the door. The bag landed with a dull thud on the pavement. Art stood there for a moment, perfectly still, his grin gone. Then, slowly, he bent down, picked up the bag, and slung it over his shoulder.

The door swung shut behind him, and the diner fell silent.

None of you moved. None of you spoke.

The three of you stepped out into the cool night air, the echo of the diner’s door shutting behind you like a punctuation mark to the strange chapter you’d just lived. The silence lingered, but Dawn—being Dawn—could never leave it that way for long.

As you walked toward her car, Dawn let out a long sigh and stretched, her voice full of playful curiosity. “What do you think that guy did in there to get kicked out?”

You shrugged, your mind still replaying the way he’d smiled at you. “Who knows.”

Tara rubbed her temples, her exhaustion catching up to her. “Does it matter? He was creepy. Let’s just get out of here.”

But Dawn smirked, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Nah, I’m telling you, he probably jizzed all over the place thinking about Y/N.”

You choked on a laugh, cheeks burning. “Dawn!”

Tara groaned. “Oh my god, stop.”

“What?!” Dawn raised her hands, the picture of faux innocence. “I’m just saying, that guy was obviously turned on by Y/N.” She wiggled her eyebrows at you. “He probably went in the back, pulled out his—”

“TMI!” Tara cut her off, exasperated.

You couldn’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes. “You’re so disgusting, Dawn.”

Dawn shrugged, completely unapologetic. “I’m just calling it like I see it.”

Tara shook her head, a look of pure disbelief on her face. “You’re fucking sick, you know that?”

You didn’t respond. Your gaze dropped to the plastic ring on your finger. The world faded out a little—the noise of the street, the chatter of your friends—until all that was left was the memory of his painted face, the way he’d looked at you, like you were the only person who mattered in that moment.

“I don’t know, I really liked him.”

[yanderecookierunkingdom]

Six becomes Five

Prev | Next

Contains spoilers for Episode 2 of Beast Yeast!

By the time you arrived back to the group, who were all struggling to process still the whiplash of the past half hour, the changes to the Silver Kingdom already began.

"The Faerie Cookies.." You whispered in horror, gently setting Pure Vanilla Cookie down as you finally shrunk down to your normal size. However, your old outfit stayed. "Shadow Milk Cookie.."

"Reader Cookie, you're one of the old heroes?" White Lily Cookie was the one to speak everything on everyone's mind, looking at you with confusion.

You lowered your head, shameful. "I am, yes. I'm sorry I never told any of you."

"Did you.. not want to come here?" Pure Vanilla Cookied asked, his voice softer than usual. "Is this why you were so hesitant..?"

You hesitated before nodding. "It was. But.. I knew that I couldn't let you guys go here alone."

Elder Faeire Cookie narrowed his eyes the smallest bit. "That is why you seemed so familiar. You've done a good job at hiding who you once were."

"My days as Sparkling Joy Cookie are over," you declared.

"But it has a nice ring.." Gingerbrave muttered as the group began forward.

As you began traversing through the now twisted kingdom, the inhabitants of the Silver Kingdom now jesters and clowns. Doing tricks, and seemingly not noticing anyone. Silverbell Cookie was particularly distraught, but Mercurial Knight Cookie made sure to help him stay focused.

It wasn't long, however, until Pure Vanils Cookie stumbled and placed a hand to his head. "Ah..!!!"

"Pure Vanilla Cookie?!" Your attention snapped to him in and instant, and the group halted. Your hands gently grasped his shoulders.

"Pure Vanilla Cookie... Are you alright...?!" White Lily Cookie gasped.

"I'm... alright.." He assured the both of you, leaning heavily against you. "Just a bit dazed, that's all.."

You hardly believed him, not with how his Soul Jam was pulsing. You eyed it warily, but decided not to say anything for the moment.

"If you're sure." You placed a hand to his back in comfort. He smiled gratefully.

"Well then, let's see.." A familiar voice chortled, and your jam ran cold. "I said hello to Pure Vanilla Cookie... That's one."

"Some Faeries... Two. Some teeny-tiny Cookies... Three."

Your scepter reformed in your hand, and you placed your arm in front of Pure Vanilla Cookie in a protective gesture. The rest of the group all quickly entered defensive positions.

"What's the next number? Six?" You could hear the grin in Shadow Milk Cookie's voice. "Oh! He he he! Seems like there's a special someone missing!"

"NO! Where is he? Where did he go? Aww, I was sure he'd be the first one to greet me when I'm free!"

You hardly paid attention to what was being said next, not even the outburst of Shadow Milk Cookie. You were too focused on figuring out just what your former friend's plan was. He had done something to Pure Vanilla, and you had no doubt about it. He always had an affinity for plays too.

It hit you like a train.

"He's going to put on a play." You spoke, and just as you realized, a giant stage appeared.

"Huh?! A giant stage?!" Gingerbrave gasped.

"What is he planning...?!" White Lily Cookie narrowed her eyes.

"Now...! Once upon a time, there were six amazing Cookies! Truly brilliant!"

Puppets of the Five Beasts and you popped up. While the Five Beasts were silhouettes, yours was completely colored in, with many details.

What stood out was the large and beautiful wings on your back, almost like a butterfly's. Your hair was long and sparkling, trailing off into mist at the ends. Your expression was full of joy, a wide smile on your face. A silver crown was drawn atop on your head, ordained with small gems, the colors of the other Beasts. Around your neck hung your petal-esque Soul Jam, sparkles surrounding it.

"However, there was one Cookie who was truly radiant and loving like no other! Sparkling Joy Cookie!"

The other puppets disappeared as your sole one remained. Rays resembling sunbeams danced around you, as did your puppet danced around.

"Sparkling Joy Cookie was perfect in every way! They loved and they loved like no other, bringing joy to the little common Cookies of the world."

"However.. this love wasn't without its price, no no!"

Your puppet flew down and then came back up. It showed you on your knees, weeping. A large, grand, and quiet frankly scary puppet of a Witch appeared, her hands hovering over you.

"The Witches saw this kindness, and when the other five brilliant Cookies began to have their fun, they turned Sparkling Joy Cookie AGAINST THEIR TRUE LOVED ONES!!"

The outburst only made Gingerbrave's group flinch back, and you had a horrified look on your face.

"Ahem.. Apologies for that! Now, where were we.. Ah, yes!"

The puppets flipped, and their side profiles faced the audience now.

"Sparkling Joy Cookie was very resistant to the Witches' manipulation at first! 'No!' They cried. 'I won't! They've done nothing wrong. They're pure still!' But.."

The puppets changed, showing the Witch covering the puppet's eyes with her hands. "Sparkling Joy Cookie was only so strong.. and they fell to the whim of their creators.. aiding in the capture of their friends.."

You softened a bit, hearing how.. somber Shadow Milk Cookie was. As if he was truly saddened.

"And soon after, a tree was planted, and a foolish king rose to power.."

The stage vanished, as did the audience, and your group pressed forward.

"Reader Cookie, was what he said true?" Silverbell Cookie asked, his voice soft as he shot away some advancing puppets.

"Partly." You narrowed your eyes. "I was friends with them, once upon a time. I did help the Witches imprison them, but.. it was of my own will."

A new stage appeared, and a new puppet appeared, called the Fool-King. It wasn't hard to see how that was meant to represent. You tuned out that part until Gingerbrave asked Pure Vanilla if he was alright.

At his insistence that he was fine, White Lily Cookie shook her head. "Tell us... What did Shadow Milk Cookie tell you earlier...?"

With that, Pure Vanilla Cookie began to appear more frazzled. "He.. disguised himself as the Light of Truth. And spoke to me from the Dark Side of the Moon..."

You froze at that, your heart practically stilling. Shadow Milk Cookie.. could reach Pure Vanilla Cookie. He could try and lie to him.

Don't tell me you're just going to let that happen?

The familiar sound of your voice, if not a little more mature, tsked at you.

Some compassion you are, letting him suffer. Share me with him!

"Wh.. you can't be serious!" You whispered softly, your eyes wide. "That's too dangerous. What if Shadow Milk Cookie tries to corrupt us?"

I'm stronger than that, and so are you. Share me with him.

You bit your bottom lip, and Pure Vanilla Cookie rested a hand on your shoulder. "Reader Cookie?" He asked. "Are you alright-?"

He cut himself off when you spun to look at him and gently grabbed his hands. Your Soul Jam pulsed and a magic whipped out, forming a large bubble around the entire group.

"Huh?! Reader Cookie?!" Wizard Cookie clutched his staff.

Elder Faeire Cookie looked shocked. "This magic.."

You exhaled softly, and you resumed your old appearance once more. However, your wings were now visible, spread wide and grand.

"I have an idea on how to help you," you spoke, voice soft. "My only question is.. do you-"

"Yes." Pure Vanilla Cookie spoke, his voice soft and full of admiration. You blushed intensely. "I trust you, Reader Cookie."

You nodded and closed your eyes. You leaned forward and pressed your forehead against his. "Then stay calm.. and open your heart to me."

Familiar magic, radiant and ever-changing in color, began to swirl around you two. Your Soul Jam was glowing particularly bright. Your wings gently glistened in the light, and your hair grew to the length it once was.

A familiar light form from the magic. It zipped and swirled around, your laughter coming from it.

Oh, what love! What compassion!

With what sounded like a joyful laugh, it zipped over to the duo, spun around them, and then shot towards Pure Vanilla Cookie's Soul Jam.

The magic died down, and you let out an exhale. Then, you began to laugh softly. "That.. that worked! I didn't think it would..!"

"What was that?!" Wizard Cookie shouted, and you blushed sheepishly.

"I'm sure you saw that light.. that was the Light of Compassion in its purest form." You explained. Your form slowly began to shift back to the regular one you used. "It insisted that I share it with Pure Vanilla Cookie."

Said Cookie spared a glance at his Soul Jam, and there was a small petal pattern in the middle.

White Lily Cookie couldn't help a small smile. "It did mention something about love.."

"HAHA WHAT?" You laughed nervously. The barrier around the group fell, and you immediately rushed forward. "C'MON GUYS, LET'S GO GET SHADOW MILK COOKIE!"

Small bits of laughter came from the group, and Pure Vanilla Cookie felt a little lighter as he followed.

Well, hello there! What joy and love you hold in your heart..

The sound of your voice, yet more mature, echoed through his mind. Yet, as if like second nature, Pure Vanilla Cookie knew that it was the Light of Compassion.

Whenever that Shadow Milk Cookie comes back, trying to trick you, focus on me or Sparkling Joy Cookie, Pure Vanilla Cookie. We won't let him lead you astray!

"What you said.." He whispered softly. "About love. Did you mean it?"

Of course. It sounded almost amused. I do believe that you're the only one Sparkling Joy Cookie would show the full extent of their power to.

Pure Vanilla Cookie couldn't help but feel honored.

But, of course, that didn't last long.

Especially not when Elder Faeire Cookie was struck down.

taglist: @snail-noodle @average-crk-enjoyer @looking4userthatworks @ori-stole-the-cheese-again @sqiddgie @justalittledumb @ax0lotly @ihatemyselffromthestart-blog

CLIFFHANGERRR!!

[star-girl69]

giving the people what they want 🙏

warnings: ofc swearing and yes we get VERY freaky yet AGAIN, y/n refers to herself as kk’s controversially young gf bc i think it’s funny, deal w it

—-

you: babe we should do this trend

kk: yes come over

kk: don’t even have to film it i’ll do it for free

you: i know u wanna kiss me 💋

kk: i think that’s obvious

you: no it’s a tik tok sound

kk: ok great come over and kiss me

you: ok… calm down… i’m coming

kk: really???

you: what is wrong with u.

kk: i’m sorry plz forgive me ma’am

—-

you: come over

kk: yes i’m omw

you: amazing response time btw

—-

YOU: WHWN THEY CALLED OFF THE CIRCUS BURNED THR DISCO DOWN WHEN THEY SENT HOME THE HORSED AND THE RODEO CLOWNS IM STILL OM THAT TIGHTROPE IM STILL TRYING EVERYTHING TO GET U LAUGHINF AT ME AND IM STILK A BELIEVER BUT I DONT KNOW WHY IVE NEVER BEEN A NATURAL ALL I DO IS TRY TRY TRY IM STILL ON THAT TRAPEZE IM STILK TRYING EVERYTHING TO KEEP U LOOKING AF ME

kk: is this taylor swift?

you: omg u got it right?? i’m so proud ❤️

kk: i learned from the best 💪

—-

you: why do u have no food in ur apartment

kk: ?? we have food

you: literally here rn and u don’t

kk: me and laila went shopping yesterday babe

you: *laila and i

kk: same thing

kk: i’m sure u can find something

you: i cant and im starving

kk: baby there’s food

you: i’m never eating again bye

you: i hate u healthy freaks

you: buy potato chips like normal ppl

kk: okay baby

…

you: i was hangry im sorry

kk: i figured 😂 no worries babe

kk: did u eat?

you: yes i had to doordash tho

kk: 🙄

—-

kk: i love u

you: PLEASE DONT KYS

kk: what????

you: i’m sorry it’s an automatic response

you: i love u too ❤️

kk: u confuse me sometimes

you: then i’m succeeding at being ur controversially young gf who’s references u don’t understand 🫡

—-

you: do u hate me?

kk: no ofc not

you: are u sure?

kk: yes i’m sure where is this coming from babe?

you: u let go of my hand earlier ☹️

kk: babe are u fr rn?

you: bye u hate me ok i’ll just see myself out

kk: and i’ll just drag u right back in bc i don’t hate u

kk: when did i even let go of ur hand?

you: when u were adjusting the bags ☹️

kk: ok so

kk: i let go of ur hand for one second to adjust the shopping bags i was carrying for u and u think i hate u?

you: yes exactly

you: do u?

kk: i love u my very clingy girl 😂

—-

kk: what is aura?

you: like aura points or the actual metaphysical thing

you: pls use it in a sentence

kk: “this dance is giving u negative aura points”

you: ok translation: doing this dance makes u look like a fucking loser

you: basically it’s like coolness

you: like if i tell someone “outfit gives u +1000 aura points” i’m basically saying like ur fit ate

kk: oh i see

kk: thank u baby

you: controversially young gf to the rescue 🫡

kk: u do realize ur not that much younger than me right

kk: like it’s not controversial

you: can u let me have this.

kk: okay baby ur my controversially young gf

you: thank u very much ❤️

—-

you: stop cheating on me.

kk: excuse me?

kk: i’m literally standing across from u. we’re in the same room right now

you: tell that bitch to back off before i do

kk: are u jealous?

you: obviously not. come here now

you: please

kk: yes ma’am

kk: i don’t even know who ur talking about btw

you: the blonde?

kk: i was genuinely too busy looking at u to notice

—-

you: omg this is so us.

kk: it’s a deer and a raccoon??

you: u just don’t get it…

kk: what is there to get

you: see the deer is me and u are the raccoon and the raccoon is hugging and kissing the deer

you: bc like ur so clingy

kk: unfortunately that makes sense

—-

you: i miss you

kk: yeah baby?

you: please come over

kk: i cant rn babe

you: please baby i miss u so muchhhh

kk: i’m sorryyyy sweetheart

kk: i’ll see what i can do but probably in an hour yeah?

you: that’s too long

you: come over now

kk: i’m sorry babe i cant

you: please caroline

you: i need you

kk: 30 mins

you: i need u really badly though…

kk: 20 minutes i promise

you: caroline please i really really need u rn

you: u know where i need u

kk: be there in 5

—-

[urdreamydoodles]

If you want to do another dog request, would you write for the x-men, especially Logan, with a reader who crochets little hats and sweaters for Mr Pickles??? I love Mr Pickles so much I wanna make lil clothes for him..

X-Men x Fem!Reader & Reader's Dog

You crochet little clothes for Mr. Pickles

As you sit on the couch, happily crocheting little outfits for your beloved dog, Mr. Pickles, your X-Man partner can't help but be charmed by your creativity and dedication.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier, Jean Grey, Wanda Maximoff & Laura Kinney

As you sit on the couch, happily crocheting little outfits for your beloved dog, Mr. Pickles, your X-Man partner can't help but be charmed by your creativity and dedication.

Thank you for summoning Mr. Pickles. Hope you like it!

Logan Howlett

- Logan was the first to notice your tiny, not-so-bright dog, Mr. Pickles, wandering around the mansion looking somewhat confused in a bright yellow crochet sweater you’d made. The sight was enough to make even him chuckle. He’d never admit it, but the image of a clumsy little dog dressed up in various sweaters quickly became a highlight of his day. It wasn’t long before he found himself looking forward to the next outfit you’d make for Mr. Pickles.

- While Logan has a gruff exterior, he found himself strangely attached to Mr. Pickles. Maybe it was because the dog reminded him of himself—a little rough around the edges, not the sharpest tool in the shed, but loyal and oddly charming in his own way. He’d occasionally give Mr. Pickles a head pat, muttering something like, “You’re not so bad, ya dumb mutt,” when no one else was around.

- You’d sit on the couch with yarn strewn all around, focused on your latest crochet project, while Logan lounged nearby, pretending to read the paper. In reality, he’d be glancing over at you, watching the way your hands worked the yarn with such patience. It amazed him, really—how you could pour so much love and care into every little stitch for a dog that didn’t even realize how special he was.

- Logan would grumble whenever you asked him to help dress Mr. Pickles in one of his new outfits, muttering under his breath about how ridiculous it was. But you knew he secretly enjoyed it. He’d even hold the dog steady as you adjusted the hat or sweater, giving Mr. Pickles a scratch behind the ears when he inevitably wobbled. Once, Logan gruffly insisted the dog “needed a tougher look” and dared you to crochet a tiny “biker jacket.”

- On cold nights, you’d find Logan sitting with Mr. Pickles curled up in his lap, the dog snug in one of your creations. Logan claimed it was just to keep the “little guy” warm, but you knew better. The image of Logan cradling your dopey, sweater-clad dog melted your heart, especially when he’d absentmindedly scratch Mr. Pickles’ head with such surprising gentleness.

- One evening, after a long mission, Logan came back bruised and tired. As he sank into the couch, you handed him Mr. Pickles, already dressed in a new sweater. Logan sighed but pulled the dog onto his lap, letting out a soft chuckle as he noticed the tiny “X” you’d crocheted into the sweater’s design. In that moment, he realized he had somehow found a strange, unexpected family—with you, and even the clueless little dog in his arms.

Remy LeBeau

- Remy was absolutely charmed from the moment he saw you holding Mr. Pickles, dressed in a lopsided little sweater with paw prints. He thought it was hilarious that a beautiful, intelligent woman like you had such a goofy, clueless pet, and he was quick to dub Mr. Pickles “le petit clown.” It wasn’t long before he’d started slipping Mr. Pickles treats behind your back, delighting in the way the dog would eagerly follow him around, tail wagging.

- Remy loved to watch you crochet. He’d lean against the doorway with a lazy grin, watching your fingers work and occasionally tossing out ideas. “How ‘bout a lil’ beret for monsieur Pickles?” he’d tease, putting on his best Parisian accent. To his surprise, you actually made one, and he proudly took a photo of Mr. Pickles with the tiny hat tilted jauntily on his head.

- Whenever you were sitting with yarn and needles, Remy would slide in beside you, offering to “help.” Of course, his idea of helping usually involved trying to distract you with sweet talk or playful kisses, but you’d just laugh and shoo him away. Secretly, he adored how absorbed you got in your work, finding it impossibly endearing. Sometimes, he’d end up tangled in yarn as you playfully scolded him for making a mess.

- Remy was quick to make Mr. Pickles part of his card tricks, “borrowing” your dog to entertain the younger mutants at the mansion. He’d let Mr. Pickles “pick a card” or have him wear a little cape while he “levitated” the dog with one hand (though Mr. Pickles seemed entirely oblivious to the attention). It became a running gag, with the kids eagerly waiting for the next “Remy and Mr. Pickles” show.

- One night, you made Mr. Pickles a special Mardi Gras-inspired sweater, complete with beads and tiny feathers. Remy laughed so hard he nearly fell over, declaring Mr. Pickles the “king of carnival.” He insisted on taking Mr. Pickles to his favorite bar in New Orleans the next time you visited, already picturing the laughs and adoration the little guy would get from everyone.

- When he thought you weren’t looking, Remy would scoop up Mr. Pickles and let him sit on his lap, scratching his head and muttering in French about how “tres stupide” yet lovable the dog was. And every time, you’d catch Remy smiling down at Mr. Pickles with genuine affection. Despite his smooth-talking charm, Remy found a sense of comfort in the goofy little dog, and he’d often look at you with a soft smile, knowing he’d found a family in both of you.

Kurt Wagner

- Kurt was delighted when he first met Mr. Pickles. He adored animals and immediately took to the little, clueless dog, finding him adorable in every way. When you told him about your hobby of crocheting little hats and sweaters for Mr. Pickles, Kurt was enchanted and insisted that you show him each new creation. It became a tradition for you to reveal the latest outfit to Kurt first, always greeted by his delighted laughter.

- Kurt would teleport around the mansion, carrying Mr. Pickles in his arms and showing off the latest sweater to everyone he could find. The sight of the fuzzy, sweater-clad dog disappearing and reappearing in a puff of smoke quickly became a running joke among the residents. And every time, Kurt would look at you with that infectious smile, proud to share the joy your little creations brought.

- You’d sit beside Kurt, working on your crochet as he watched with rapt attention, sometimes leaning over to give suggestions. He’d throw out ideas for elaborate costumes—“Maybe a pirate hat and tiny eye patch next time?”—and you’d humor him, laughing at his excitement. The more whimsical the idea, the more Kurt loved it, especially when you actually went through with it and made Mr. Pickles a tiny pirate outfit.

- Mr. Pickles quickly became attached to Kurt, often following him around and waiting expectantly for him to teleport them both to some new corner of the mansion. Kurt would always oblige, chuckling as Mr. Pickles looked around in a daze, probably wondering how he got there. Kurt joked that Mr. Pickles was his “faithful sidekick,” and you’d laugh, happy to see Kurt so genuinely joyful with his new furry friend.

- One winter evening, Kurt sat beside you on the couch, admiring Mr. Pickles in his new holiday sweater. With a sudden burst of excitement, he suggested that you crochet matching scarves for the three of you. You were touched by the idea, and after you made the scarves, Kurt proudly wore his everywhere, beaming whenever someone noticed the matching set. It became a special little bond between the three of you, something that made Kurt’s heart feel incredibly full.

- When Kurt was feeling down, he’d often teleport to wherever Mr. Pickles was, seeking out the dog’s clueless yet comforting presence. He’d sit beside Mr. Pickles, scratching his ears, feeling an unexpected peace in the dog’s simple joy. With you nearby, working on your next crochet project, Kurt felt a happiness he’d never thought possible—a sense of family, love, and laughter all wrapped into one.

Scott Summers

- Scott was a bit surprised when he first saw Mr. Pickles, your tiny, rather dim-witted dog, wandering around the mansion in a sweater you’d crocheted. He had to admit, it was a funny sight seeing such a serious, no-nonsense guy like him dealing with a dog in a pastel sweater. But, for you, he tried to be supportive and even gave Mr. Pickles a gentle pat on the head, which only made you love him more.

- At first, Scott was skeptical about all the little outfits. He didn’t quite understand why Mr. Pickles needed a new sweater every week, but he never said a word against it. He’d just watch you work with an amused smile, occasionally muttering things like, “He’s not even going to know what he’s wearing,” and you’d laugh, nudging him to let go of his practical side.

- Slowly, Scott started getting attached to Mr. Pickles. The dog’s clumsiness and clueless charm made Scott chuckle, and over time, he found himself looking forward to your “fashion shows” for the dog. You’d call him over whenever you finished a new outfit, and he’d come watch, nodding in approval and making silly, serious comments like, “That’s a very dignified look for him.”

- Scott found himself frequently carrying Mr. Pickles around the mansion, especially if the little guy was dressed in a sweater Scott deemed particularly cute. He’d mutter about “proper care” and “not wanting the dog to get cold,” but you could tell he secretly enjoyed being Mr. Pickles’ unofficial guardian. It became almost a ritual for you two, with Scott taking the dog out for “patrols” around the grounds as you watched with a fond smile.

- During one particularly cold winter, you surprised Scott with a matching set of scarves for him and Mr. Pickles. He laughed in disbelief, shaking his head, but he wore it with pride, and even went out of his way to take a picture with Mr. Pickles. He sent it to you with a small message: “Don’t tell anyone.” You never did—but you kept that picture as one of your fondest memories.

- When you were crocheting, Scott would sit nearby, reading or working, casting frequent glances your way. He loved watching you work so diligently for such a silly, endearing purpose. It softened his heart in ways he never anticipated. And on days when his responsibilities felt heavy, he’d look down at the silly, clueless Mr. Pickles, cozy in his latest sweater, and feel just a bit lighter.

Erik Lehnsherr

- Erik raised an eyebrow the first time he saw Mr. Pickles toddling about the mansion in one of your crochet creations. He made no attempt to hide his bemusement, giving you a slightly amused look as if to say, “Really?” But it was clear that he found the whole thing endearing, even if he’d never admit it aloud.

- Over time, Erik grew fond of Mr. Pickles in his own way. There was something oddly relaxing about the little dog, with his clueless stare and innocent charm. Erik would occasionally sit in silence with the dog beside him, stroking Mr. Pickles’ head as if the small, simple presence helped calm the storm inside him. He began calling the dog “mein kleiner Trottel” (my little fool), which made you smile every time.

- Your crochet habit amused Erik to no end. He’d tease you lightly as he watched you work, remarking on how you were “spending time creating garments for a creature who won’t even notice.” But he loved the way your face lit up when you finished a new piece, and he’d always watch you present the latest sweater to Mr. Pickles, his eyes softening as he observed your joy.

- Erik would secretly play a small part in your crochet projects, “assisting” in his own way by lifting the yarn rolls with his powers to make them easier for you to reach. He’d do it silently, as if it was a simple, practical thing, but you both knew it was his way of spending time with you, of supporting your passion without breaking his tough exterior.

- Mr. Pickles became Erik’s companion in the quiet hours when the mansion was still. Erik would often hold the dog on his lap, absentmindedly petting him while he thought or read. The little creature’s simple presence and warmth grounded him, and he started referring to Mr. Pickles as “a noble soul.” When you heard him say it, you couldn’t help but laugh, which Erik took in stride with an amused smile.

- One night, you surprised Erik by crocheting a tiny helmet that resembled his iconic headgear for Mr. Pickles. At first, Erik looked at it with a mix of horror and amusement, muttering about how you’d made his dog look “ridiculous.” But you caught him smiling as he placed it on Mr. Pickles’ head, shaking his own as he watched the little dog toddle around with his new “crown.” For a moment, Erik looked at you with a softness few people ever saw, realizing how much happiness you brought into his life.

Charles Xavier

- Charles was utterly charmed by Mr. Pickles from the start. He found the dog’s dimwitted nature incredibly endearing, and he loved that you’d taken it upon yourself to crochet sweaters and hats for him. The sight of Mr. Pickles waddling around in a tiny, handmade sweater was enough to make Charles laugh out loud, something he hadn’t done nearly enough lately.

- Charles would often join you as you crocheted, pulling up a chair beside you and admiring your handiwork. He’d sit quietly, asking about your process or sharing stories from his past as you worked. The calm, domestic rhythm of it all—of you creating something, of him simply being there beside you—felt more comforting than he’d ever imagined.

- Occasionally, Charles would insist on holding Mr. Pickles as you tried a new hat or sweater on him, laughing softly as the little dog wriggled and blinked in confusion. Charles found the whole process incredibly sweet, and he never missed a chance to compliment your skill. “Another masterpiece,” he’d say with a warm smile, and you’d always feel a rush of pride at his approval.

- Charles would use his telepathy to communicate with Mr. Pickles in subtle ways, giving the little dog gentle nudges to behave or come to him. The little creature’s simple mind and warm affection brought Charles a rare kind of peace. He’d often sit with Mr. Pickles curled up beside him as he worked, knowing that even a small comfort could make a difference in his day.

- Once, you made a small “professor” sweater for Mr. Pickles, complete with elbow patches. Charles was delighted, genuinely touched by the gesture. He took it upon himself to take Mr. Pickles to his next class, introducing him as the “assistant professor” for the day. The students got a kick out of it, and for the first time in a while, Charles felt the lightness of simply being happy.

- In quiet moments, Charles would hold Mr. Pickles close, resting a gentle hand on his small frame as he pondered the challenges he faced. Sometimes, he’d murmur to the dog, sharing thoughts he couldn’t share with anyone else, and he’d feel a strange sense of relief knowing you’d brought Mr. Pickles into his life. Charles knew he’d found a rare gift in both you and your small, slightly dim-witted companion, feeling a renewed strength in your shared happiness.

Jean Grey

- Jean was instantly in love with Mr. Pickles the moment she met him. His little quirks and clueless gaze made her laugh, and she was endlessly entertained by his antics. Watching him prance around in your crochet sweaters always brought a smile to her face, and she’d often kneel down to shower him with affection, whispering sweetly, “Aren’t you just the cutest thing?” as he squirmed in delight.

- Jean loved how much care and creativity you put into crocheting for Mr. Pickles. She’d watch you work with admiration, asking about your patterns and colors, fully invested in the process. Sometimes she’d even lend a hand, helping you choose yarns or holding Mr. Pickles still while you adjusted his latest outfit. The two of you bonding over your little “fashion shows” for him became a cherished ritual that made her feel close to you.

- She would telekinetically lift the yarn, guiding it back to you whenever it rolled away, making sure you didn’t miss a beat. Jean even experimented with telepathically nudging Mr. Pickles when he seemed particularly clueless, gently encouraging him to stay put when you tried on a new hat or sweater. The simple joy you two shared while fussing over Mr. Pickles helped her relax in ways nothing else could.

- One night, you surprised Jean with a red-and-gold sweater for Mr. Pickles, inspired by her Phoenix costume. Her eyes lit up with joy, and she laughed, a hand covering her mouth as she took in the adorable sight of Mr. Pickles strutting around like a “mini Phoenix.” She hugged you, whispering, “You’re amazing,” and you felt warmth bloom in your chest at her genuine appreciation.

- Sometimes, during quiet evenings, Jean would sit with you on the sofa as you crocheted. She loved the calm intimacy of those moments, watching your hands move in steady rhythm, occasionally reaching over to press a soft kiss to your cheek. Mr. Pickles would curl up between you both, his clueless gaze softened with comfort. Jean treasured these times, the simple joy of being with you both grounding her.

- When things got hard, and Jean was struggling with the intensity of her powers, she found peace with you and Mr. Pickles by her side. She’d hold Mr. Pickles in her arms, letting his silly antics pull her out of her dark thoughts, and you would be right there, holding her hand. Those small, quiet moments made her feel like everything was going to be okay—like no matter how heavy her powers weighed on her, she’d always have this little family with you.

Wanda Maximoff

- Wanda was instantly taken by Mr. Pickles and his innocent, somewhat dim-witted charm. She found it adorable how such a small, simple creature could bring so much joy, and she was delighted by the little outfits you crocheted for him. Watching him toddle around the mansion in colorful sweaters brought a lightness to her heart, something she often craved amidst the weight of her powers.

- She would watch you crochet with quiet fascination, sometimes reaching out to help untangle yarn with a touch of her magic. She loved seeing your creativity come to life, and she’d often tell you how proud she was of your dedication, even if it was for something as simple as dog sweaters. Wanda appreciated the gentleness of it, the way you brought a piece of yourself into every stitch.

- Wanda developed a unique bond with Mr. Pickles, often using her magic to create small illusions to entertain him. She’d cast little sparkles or floating shapes in the air, watching him try to chase them with his clumsy, happy steps. Seeing his joy was infectious, and she’d laugh with you as you both watched him tumble around in his latest outfit, eyes wide with fascination.

- When you made a tiny, crimson-and-black sweater inspired by her own costume, Wanda was incredibly touched. She looked down at Mr. Pickles, who was proudly (if cluelessly) wearing his new attire, and then up at you with a wide smile. Pulling you close, she whispered, “Thank you. You’re always so thoughtful.” In that moment, she felt so grateful for the warmth and creativity you brought into her life.

- During quiet moments, Wanda would sit with you on the couch as you crocheted, watching you with soft eyes and occasionally reaching out to run her fingers through your hair. She loved how peaceful you both felt together, with Mr. Pickles nestled between you, wearing his latest creation. She treasured these moments, feeling the weight of her responsibilities melt away as you all relaxed as a little family.

- On days when Wanda felt the burden of her powers bearing down on her, she’d find solace in your presence and the little world you’d created with Mr. Pickles. Watching you fuss over the dog or crochet something new gave her a sense of normalcy and peace that her life often lacked. She’d hold Mr. Pickles close, drawing strength from his silly, happy presence, and feel that maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright as long as she had you by her side.

Laura Kinney

- Laura was a little skeptical when she first met Mr. Pickles, your small, not-so-bright dog. But his harmless, clueless nature quickly won her over. Watching him stumble around the mansion in one of your crocheted sweaters always managed to bring a rare smile to her face. She might try to act tough, but you knew she secretly found him adorable, especially when he looked up at her with those big, innocent eyes.

- Though she didn’t quite understand your obsession with crocheting new outfits for Mr. Pickles, Laura respected your dedication. Sometimes she’d sit nearby as you worked, quietly observing the way your fingers moved with such focus. She wouldn’t say much, but you could feel her silent appreciation for the love and effort you put into each creation.

- Over time, Laura grew attached to Mr. Pickles, even if she tried to hide it. She would carry him around when no one was looking, giving him little pats and murmuring soft words to him, though she’d deny it if anyone asked. Seeing her gentle side emerge around him made you love her even more, knowing that Mr. Pickles brought out a softer, more vulnerable side of her.

- You made a tiny black leather jacket for Mr. Pickles as a tribute to Laura, and her reaction was priceless. She tried to look unamused, raising an eyebrow and muttering, “Really?” But you caught the slight smirk tugging at her lips as she took in the sight of the dog prancing around in his little “X-23” outfit. She even let you take a picture of the two of them together, though she claimed it was “just for you.”

- Laura was fiercely protective of both you and Mr. Pickles. Whenever the dog got himself into trouble, she’d scoop him up, muttering about how he “wouldn’t last a second without us.” Her bond with Mr. Pickles became something you both cherished, a symbol of her softer side. And watching her take care of him, guiding him with a firm but gentle hand, always warmed your heart.

- Despite her tough exterior, Laura found a sense of peace in the little family you’d created with Mr. Pickles. She’d sometimes watch you as you crocheted, content to just be by your side in those quiet moments. Having Mr. Pickles around brought her a sense of calm and belonging, reminding her that she didn’t always have to fight—she could also be part of something soft, something warm, something that felt like home.