#prattling about the self | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rinneverse · 3 months

Text

cw a little suggestive towards the end, mdni please and ty :)

alhaitham is the type to seethe quietly in his jealousy.

he’s not outwardly possessive—no, because he lets the stranger talk to you—his pretty girlfriend—about his thesis plans, about his academic feats, and you sit there with a smile plastered on your face, nodding your head as you listen to him prattle on and on and on.

alhaitham nearly bends the book in his hand into pieces with what he claims is annoyance. not possessiveness, no, that was out of character. he was just… annoyed, that this random man had the gall to interrupt his reading session with you.

that’s what he tells himself, at least.

of course, how was he supposed to know you were dating the akademiya scribe, when alhaitham was possibly the most low-key person ever? the two of you were quiet about your relationship, content to share it between yourselves. only your close friends really knew the extent of how deep your “friendship” with the scribe went.

as soon as the man leaves (not without leaving his number for you, of course), and the two of you are blanketed in the quiet murmurs of the akademiya library, alhaitham sets his book down. he turns to you.

he finds you staring at him, amusement flickering in your eyes. alhaitham tilts his head, all feline grace, his eyes narrowing into slits as he asks, “what?”

you shake your head mirthfully, crumpling up the slip of paper in your hand and tossing it into the nearest bin. alhaitham feels his shoulders un-tense just a fraction at the sight.

“nothing,” you say, but alhaitham knows you’re lying.

so he leans closer to you, grasping your chin in his hand as he tilts your head back and forces your gaze to meet his.

“liar. what is it?”

you smile. wide and wider it grows, and you reach a hand up to brush alhaitham’s cheek. he barely suppresses a shudder at the gentle touch.

“i didn’t think you to be the jealous type.”

“i’m not.”

“then what was that all about?” you hum. you’re… amused by this. amused by him grappling with his emotions. alhaitham feels his lips twitch downward.

if you didn’t know any better, he would appear to just be frowning. but you did… and it was like he was pouting. you giggle.

“i am annoyed,” alhaitham says, stressing the last word, “that we were interrupted by a stranger. nothing more.”

“nothing more?” you parrot, your eyes gleaming with amusement. “sure. and i’m the grand sage.”

alhaitham bites his tongue, pulling his hand away from your chin. his fingers flex—he has to stamp down on his self-control. being found in a compromising position in the library would surely wreck the both of your social statuses.

but the thrill of it… seeing you bent over the table, utterly wrecked under the careful ministrations of his hands—getting to mark his claim on you...

he quickly shakes the dangerous train of thought away.

“do you want to go home?” you suddenly ask, a coy smile dancing on your lips. he must have been obvious where his line of thinking was going, if you managed to catch on that quickly. the grin on your face tells him that you did.

alhaitham pretends to ponder it. grabs the book he set down, turns it over in his hands, then shrugs.

“sure. kaveh shouldn’t be home for another few hours.”

his voice was bedroom-soft, and the tone in which he said it—nearly purring—has heat pooling in your core.

“alright. let’s go?”

he wordlessly rises, holding out his hand for you. there’s a small part of him that feels a maddening satisfaction when you let out a pleased hum, followed by a surprised yelp as he gracefully slides an arm around you.

someone nearby makes a “shh” noise, and he completely ignores it. you giggle out an apology.

it was utterly unlike him, he thinks, as he guides you through the library with his arm wrapped around your waist, slowly moving to rest his hand on the small of your back when the two of you exit the library.

maybe he’ll try being more public in his attention to you. that would most certainly keep this from happening again.

#alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #☆ oakie writes #hey ! alhaitham drabble jumpscare before i go to bed :3 #i did not proofread btdubs #wrote this all in one sitting on my phone from the comfort of my bed. and now… i eep!#a nice little bedtime story if u will

883 notes · View notes

rose-tea-and-strawberries · 30 days

Text

I'm falling so badly, I'm coming apart

Things you do that make them fall deeper in love with you ♡

feat. Ace and Deuce

I write the reader as female

Masterlist

Ace Trappola

When you not only indulge in his whims but actively and happily encourage him

He teases you by asking you to be his cheerleader during a basketball game and you take him on by appearing in the front row of the stand, carrying a huge banner with his name over your head and loudly yelling his name for the whole island to hear

You his heart race and face flush for reasons that had nothing to do with the adrenaline of the match as he jogs over to you and plants a kiss onto your lips, smiling as he hears your breathless gasp and feels your hands interlock around his neck, pulling you closer in front of the whole gymnasium

Or when he’s goofing around, fully expecting you to give him that endeared but exasperated look he adores only to find that you - the responsible, reliable and hard working prefect - are goofing around with him

And it fills him with such unimaginable euphoria, when he sees the childlike sparkle in your eyes as you beam at him and his antics, when you mirror his teasing grin and play off of him so perfectly it’s like your souls were intertwined

It just makes him feel so fluttery that you love him not despite his flaws but also with his flaws

Sure it does hurt a little, when he hears whispers about how tough it must be for you to be babysitting dating such a tactless troublemaker, at how horrible it must be to settle for someone who could only bring you down when you have so many other admirers that are much better suited for you, but when you look so beautiful wearing his clothes, laugh at his jokes, smile so genuinely that your face glows so ethereally, all his worries get pushed to the side

When others would roll their eyes and mutter about him being his usual obnoxious self, you smile at him all soft and gentle, like you can see past his cocky exterior and right into his heart which has your name engraved inside it

And when you bless him with that loving gaze, eyes brimming with pride as you throw your arms around him in an embrace, saying his name so sweetly he fully understands why sailors would willingly drown themselves whenever sirens would whisper a syllable, when you proudly stand next to him as you call him your boyfriend or refer to yourself as his girlfriend, he knows

He knows that your heart has his name on it as well

Deuce Spade

When you love both sides of him

He can’t help the rosiness that blooms over his nose and cheeks when you coddle his soft side; making him adorable bento boxes and omurice meals, when you smile so dearly when he prattles on about his day, when you gift him bouquets of flowers and plush chicks despite his pouty insistence on that being his job, when you take time out of your already overloaded schedule to study with him and not getting the slightest bit annoyed at his slow uptake (instead choosing to praise him for every correct answer), when you drown him in affection for every good grade, every track and field win, every time he feels like his dream of being an honour student isn’t as impossible as he initially thought

When you show just how proud you are of his change for the better, just how much you believe in him

And also when you’re not only unperturbed by his shameful delinquent side that he still fights to keep at bay, but you also dote on it, lovingly bandaging his bruised knuckles, your gentle eyes staring right into his as you press soft kisses against plasters and bandages that he swore he would never wear again (though the baby chicks decorating the plasters you carry around in your bag aren’t exactly as unappealing as the old bandages his younger self would proudly parade)

When you don’t even hesitate to press your lips against his cheeks or mouth when he inevitably slips up and spits out gruff curses, lowers his voice with a growl lets a threatening snarl pull at his lips as he clenches his fist, hackles raised and ready to strike, only stopping himself when he feels your hand make its home in his - and, well, your pecks don’t exactly stop his subsequent self hatred and guilt but it certainly does

Though he does feel some shame for it, he feels absolutely enamored in you wearing his old leather jacket. He swore that useless old thing could bring back nothing but horrid memories of fights and tears but seeing you so happily cuddle into it, all he could feel was fondness and longing. And, he realises that, yeah, maybe there are some things about his past that don’t leave such a bad taste in his mouth as you smile at him when his gloved hands click his helmet straps into place under your chin, or as he feels your body pressed flush against him as he takes you for a late afternoon spin on his magical wheel, drinking in your excited whoops as he akira slides down a deserted road

And when you give him that look, that piercing look that tells him that you know about the inner contents of his head, that makes him feel like a butterfly pinned to a wall, his thoughts being laid bare, inspected and examined, yet still let yourself melt against him and kiss him with just as much love and desperation that consumes him

It makes him feel almost worthy to call you his

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #deuce spade #deuce spade x reader #ace trappola x reader #ace trappola #fem reader

449 notes · View notes

hxllblazer-a · 2 years

Text

@lanternslight

“Now, put that ring away ‘fore you go and hurt yourself.”

#lanternslight #✦✦INSANE PRATTLE -- (in character)#✦✦A SELF MADE MONSTER -- (demon)#hal u about to Learn

1 note · View note

vvelegrin · 4 months

Text

ungulates with a proboscis send tweet

#sometimes the good lord shows you many photos of the guy that is the saiga antelope to tell you that they are a very nice animal :)#oh the tapir oh the elephant!#oh! oh!#but how can i forget the honorary ungulate with a proboscis!#that is our gentle friend and brother the elephant seal #first time i saw those dudes in the wild it was INSANE #i love living on this fucking earth with creatures such as these that i can just see #sorry fellas i had a panera lemonade that kills you after talking with a good friend of mine and my eyes are opened #to the various beautiful people places and things #the various lovely nouns and verbs and adjectives and other parts of speech #love looking at them #prattling about the self #yes i am at my writing group and i should be writing. lmao.

7 notes · View notes

vinnellamadz · 3 months

Note

Enemies to lovers Adam x f!reader?

Enemies to Lovers

Adam X Reader

A/N: I shed blood, sweat and tears making this. SORRY IF ITS OOC this is my first real fic Adam is a PAIN to write.

You were never really able to get along with Adam. From the moment Adam arrived in heaven, the two of you were always at each other's throats.

Adam would always pick fights over the smallest things, and it was always enough to make you bite back. There wasn't a single day that he couldn't get under your skin and make fun of you. Calling you names, competing with you, and just being a general pain in your ass.

Today was the day of the first-second extermination of the year.

Adam was off giving his soldiers a 'pep talk', but before he flew off to this hazbin hotel, he came to you first.

As always, he made sure to get his daily insults in before he left, tearing into you with his words, ensuring you knew just how inferior and pathetic he deemed you. His snarky and playful tone only served to aggravate you further. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, you snapped back, 'Oh, shut up! I hope you never return, Adam!' His initial shock quickly gave way to a smug grin. 'Calm your pretty little head, babe,' he retorted, his arrogance undeterred as he continued to prattle on about himself."

You weren't even listening; His annoying voice was easy to block out.

“plus I know you’ll miss me, I fuckin’ rock, I’m THE Adam” he pointed to himself keeping that stupid shit eating smile he always had, god you wanted to punch him so bad but couldn't, as you feared you would get sent to hell so you slammed the door in his face instead.

Later that night, you were sitting on your heavenly comfy couch, enjoying the latest episodes of your favorite shows. You were just about to fall asleep when a frantic knock jolted you from the cushions. With a tinge of fear, you approached the door, thinking, 'This is heaven; this couldn’t be bad, right?' As you opened the door and peeked out, you were shocked to see Adam, but he was far from his usual self. Covered in golden blood and bearing multiple stab wounds, he looked as though he had been through hell. (Lol) Without hesitation, you flung the door open, calling out, 'Adam!' before he collapsed on your doorstep.

It had been a while since you found Adam. Earlier, you had managed to drag him to your couch. As you attempted to patch him up, you discovered several more wounds scattered across his body. Shocked by the extent of his injuries, you couldn't help but wonder who could have inflicted such damage.

hours have passed since the surprise at your doorstep. You had fallen asleep on the floor beside him. When you woke up, he had yet to awaken, Panic gripped your heart as you reached out to shake him gently, wondering if he had actually died in his sleep. (double dead) You placed your finger beneath his nose, relieved to feel the subtle rise and fall of his breath. 'Why do I even care so much...' you pondered, a mix of emotions swirling within you.

More hours had passed, and as you were making lunch for yourself, you heard him make a sound. Turning around, you saw that he had finally woken up. “What the fuck am I doing here?” was the first thing that came out of his mouth. “You came to me, Adam. You're hurt.” Upon hearing your words, he winced and attempted to sit up, but a wave of pain washed over him, causing him to groan. Reacting quickly, you rushed to his side, gently placing a hand on his shoulder to ease him back down. 'Lay down, Adam,' you said softly, concern evident in your voice. “You're going to make it worse if you push yourself too hard.” Adam groaned with displeasure as you stood up and started walking back to the kitchen. However, something he said made you stop in your tracks.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” You froze in surprise. 'What?' Slowly, you turned to him, a shocked expression on your face. “Excuse me? How hard did you hit your head?”

You stood there in silence as he just stared at you “… I’m just fucking with you… dumb b-bitch…” he looked away in embarrassment, you stared at him with a shocked look ‘doesn’t sound like was a joke..’

“I can do it myself!” He argued.

"If you move, you'll probably explode or die. Stop it!" You were trying your best to care for him these past few days, but he's just such a pain in the ass. Currently, you were trying to feed him, but he kept turning his head away, stubborn as ever. Fed up with his behavior and the frustration boiling inside you, you finally snapped. With determination, you grabbed hold of his head, locking eyes with him. "Just eat it, damn it!" you exclaimed, frustration evident in your voice as you forcefully shoved the spoon into his mouth. Finally, he relented and ate it, although begrudgingly.

“I’d rather you shove your-“

“Shut the fuck up”

“Moody Bitch…”

You scoffed at his remarks, striding over to him and motioning for him to sit up, to which he obliges. "Take your shirt off," you instruct. He smirks in response. "Don't give me that look; you know what I mean." His smirk fades into annoyance as he complies with your request. Gently removing his bandages required getting close, and you carefully unwrap them before swiftly replacing them with fresh ones, wrapping them around his body with precision and care.

"You look really pretty down there" he grins at you, his eyes sparkling with admiration. You blush in response, feeling a warm flush creeping up your cheeks, unsure of how to respond to the unexpected compliment.

Wanna know a secret?" He said, catching your attention. You looked at him with a confused expression, but slowly nodded, curiosity piqued.

"you know I live alone right now? No one's going to—" Your words were cut off as you felt his hand grasp your face, Before you could react, his lips met yours in a sudden, electrifying kiss, sending a rush of warmth through your body.

Adam pulled away, leaving you stunned and bewildered by the sudden rush of conflicting emotions.

"You make it so damn difficult to hate you," he confessed, his voice tinged with frustration and a hint of something deeper, something you couldn't quite decipher. As you stood there, grappling with the unexpected confession, you realized that perhaps there was more to your relationship than just rivalry. With a mixture of uncertainty and expanding hope, you met his gaze, silently acknowledging the unspoken possibility of a new beginning between two former enemies turned potential lovers.

This was so hard goodbye. It’s so OOC I’m soo sorry I tried to rush the end to put this out faster 😭

#adam x reader #adam x reader hazbin #hazbin #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #helluva boss #hazbin adam x reader #adam hazbin hotel #adam x reader hazbin hotel

534 notes · View notes

dancingbirdie · 6 months

Note

Hello there! I adore your fics and how you wrote Astarion! I was hoping you could write something around the succubus scene? I know you get comforted by Astarion later on in the game regarding it, but due to his own trauma and backstory I would have liked to see him stand up for Tav and protect them during that scene itself, instead of just standing by while Tav is being manipulated 🙈

If you could do something around that, it would heal me! 😂🙏

Hi, anon! I hope you enjoy. I really liked your prompt, but I'll admit it did get a bit darker than I had originally thought I'd write it.

Please take note of the content warnings before you read! As always, comments and reacts are appreciated.

No Self-Sacrifices

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Astarion x gn!Reader/Tav

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings/Tags: Discussion/description of dissociation, implied sexual assault, mentions of Astarion's past, descriptions of violence, blood, mild gore, death, angst.

*****

“Why don’t we play a game?” the Raphael-look-alike called to you seductively from the ridiculously lavish bed. “You win, I give you everything you desire. But you’ll enjoy yourself more if you lose.”

Astarion began to sense that all too familiar, uneasy feeling coiling itself tight inside his chest. The premonition that something was about to go utterly, horribly wrong. He risked a glance toward your allies, Lae’zel and Halsin, but they appeared just as woefully confused as you did. As if you all weren’t aware of the trap you’d just walked into.

“What’s the game?” he heard you ask. He could feel the hairs standing up on the back of his neck.

“It’s a surprise! Off with your clothes,” the devil commanded.

There could be no doubt as to what would take place. Surely, Astarion thought, none of his companions could be so blind as to not see what was about to happen.

Astarion watched as you bit your lip, hesitating. How you looked wildly about the room, as if you were searching for any last-minute way to avoid this. With his preternatural senses, he couldn’t help but be aware of how your heart rate spiked to a frenzied pulsing as you stood there, terrified of what was to come.

He watched in horror as your shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly. Defeated. Resolving to go through with this. And as you began removing your clothes, his vision turned nearly as red as the fiend on the mattress before you.

“Good, little thief, good,” the monster crooned, totally unaware of Astarion’s brewing rage. “Keep going like this, and you’ll get to live. You’ll be crying out my name soon, you’d better know it. I am Haarlep, Raphael’s personal incubus…”

The incubus - Haarlep - prattled on while Astarion continued to seethe with barely-contained fury. His fingers twitched, itching – almost of their own accord – to reach for the crossbow strapped to his back. He began shifting back and forth on the balls of his feet, restless. He caught the glare Lae’zel was leveling at him from his periphery and turned his head slightly to meet it.

She gave a slight, but obvious, shake of the head. A silent command to stand down. Then he felt the tadpole squirm in his brain, while a voice that was distinctly Lae’zel’s echoed in his mind.

Don’t act rashly, vampire. We need to gather more information before we strike.

Astarion nearly laughed aloud. The audacity of this Githyanki, willing to let her comrade be violated in such a way. After all they had done for her. For this party. And yet, part of him knew he shouldn’t be so surprised. After all, he had known plenty of “heroes” who had let equally horrible fates befall others without so much as lifting a finger to help them.

“It matters not to me.” Your deadened reply to Haarlep brought Astarion back to the present moment. He recognized that tone of voice. Knew when someone was trying to dissociate. To disconnect their mind from their body. He knew all too well what that feeling was like. And it was nearly as horrible to watch as it was to experience it for himself.

“Very well, I will be Raphael himself,” Haarlep continued. “All of him. Now, on the bed. Lie back.”

Astarion made his decision when he saw you begin to take stilted steps toward the bed. Covering yourself with your hands, trying to maintain some modicum of modesty as you climbed up.

With Haarlep’s attention solely on you, he reached behind him for the crossbow. His index finger felt for the trigger as he pulled it around before him. One swift flick, and an arrow was suddenly lodged in the incubus’ left pectoral.

Chaos erupted as imps suddenly appeared throughout the room, responding to Haarlep’s distressed cry. You toppled off the bed, head knocking onto the floor, as the fiend raged above you, trying to right themselves and extract the arrow from their chest.

“Tsk’va,” Lae’zel cursed in Gith, hefting her sword over her shoulder and barreling toward the first enemy in sight. “To battle it is, then!”

Halsin shifted quickly into his bear shape and let loose a formidable roar, charging for another group of imps across the room.

But Astarion only had eyes for Haarlep. He stalked slowly toward the bed, unsheathing the twin blades from his back as he did so.

You watched as he gave one brief, wicked smile before utter carnage ensued.

*****

“Kainyak! Your foolishness nearly cost us all our lives,” Lae’zel spat venomously toward Astarion while she wiped her blade free of the fetid black imp blood. “I should strike you down now for acting with such stupidity.”

To his credit, Astarion barely seemed to acknowledge the Githyanki’s formidable censuring. You watched as he slipped his daggers back into the sheaths at the small of his back and readjusted his armor. He picked up his crossbow and shook it free of blood before strapping it back between his shoulder blades.

“You still have all your limbs intact, Lae’zel,” he replied airly. It was a stark contrast to the way he was standing, body as taut as a bowstring. “And wasn’t that bloodshed so much more satisfying than watching the incubus violate our dear party leader?”

Lae’zel’s mouth snapped shut, but she continued to glare. The vampire had a point, though she was loath to admit it.

“I, for one, prefer this outcome to the alternative that was before us,” Halsin agreed, rising from where he had been crouched after dismissing his ursine form. He glanced your way but averted his eyes quickly, to your confusion.

“Best get dressed, darling,” Astarion drawled, coming over to where you still lay prone on the floor. “As delicious as I find your birthday suit to be, I’d wager you’ll fare better in this wretched place with a little more clothing on.”

He held out a hand to help you rise to your feet. You observed him cautiously, trying to discern the emotion behind his carefully schooled expression.

“Why?” you whispered.

He squinted at you, one brow quirked. “Are you seriously asking me why armor is prudent to have on, in a place like this?” He chuckled before adding, “gods, you must’ve smacked your head harder than I thought.”

“No,” you retorted, refusing to be deterred by his cheeky banter. “I mean, why did you attack Haarlep? You’re never one to be spoiling for a fight.”

Astarion scoffed, pressing a hand to his chest as if insulted. “Careful, darling. You’re almost making me out to be a pacifist.”

“You know what I meant, Astarion,” you grumbled as you began donning your leather breeches and jerkin.

“And would you have preferred to be fucked by that incubus instead?” Astarion bit out derisively.

Your head whipped up to meet his gaze, hearing the sudden change in his tone.

“Of course not,” you scowled. “But you could sense how powerful they were. It seemed like the only way to ensure your all’s safety.”

Astarion grimaced. “So you would have just laid down and taken it? For us?”

“I’m not saying I would have enjoyed it,” you hissed. “But to keep you safe? Keep them safe?” you gestured to Lae’zel and Halsin across the room, polishing and re-polishing their weapons as they attempted not to overhear your barely-whispered argument.

“Of course,” you concluded, voice resolute.

“Don’t be a fucking martyr. Not for me. Not for them. Not for anyone,” Astarion growled.

Your brows shot toward your hairline in surprise.

“We know what we signed up for when we joined this rag-tag group,” he continued, tone icy. “I’d rather fight a hundred fiends than watch you debase yourself to save anyone, including myself.”

You let loose a mirthless laugh, feeling angry, embarrassed and too completely exposed. Before you could think better of it, your retort was flying past your lips.

“You know, Astarion, you have a fucking funny way of showing appreciation for your partner who was willing to be violated in order to keep you safe.”

It was the wrong thing to say. You immediately knew it, and so did the rest of the party. Suddenly it was like the air had been sucked from the room.

Crimson eyes bored into your own as Astarion took a step forward to meet you, chest to chest. You glared up at him, refusing to back down. Refusing to be chastised for your willingness to protect him.

The shared air between you was charged. You could almost feel the electricity surging.

“Need I remind you? I’ve been violated enough times over the past 200 years to know how unequivocally monstrous it is,” he intoned, his voice pitched dangerously low. “I will promise you this. I am finished with having it happen to me, in front of me, or for me.”

Words escaped you. It was all you could do to maintain eye contact with him, feeling the conviction in his tone. The anger that had sustained you up until this point had all but disappeared. In its place was something far more demure.

“So yes, I fired the first shot that pierced that devil’s skin. Then I eviscerated their neck with my teeth,” he crooned, reverently tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. You shivered at his touch, at his dulcet tone that was describing such violence.

“And I slit his throat with glee,” he continued, cupping your cheek in his palm. “I would do it again. And again. And again. Because I will never witness abuse like what was about to happen, ever again.”

He swept the pad of his thumb over the hollow under your eye, his gaze flicking rapidly over your face. As though he were subconsciously checking you over for any nicks, cuts, or bruises.

“Do you understand?” he whispered softly. His voice was still laced with rage, but you could tell it was not directed toward you. Really, it never had been.

The entire situation had obviously touched the most sensitive pressure point within him. Had triggered his urge to fight, to protect, to resist. You couldn’t be angry with him for that. Never. Not one bit.

You gulped before nodding slightly. “I understand now. I’m sorry.”

You lifted your hand to cover his where it was still cupping your face. Turning slightly, you planted a kiss against his palm.

“No self-sacrificing on my watch, darling, agreed?” he murmured, wrapping his other arm around your waist in a solid embrace.

“Agreed,” you confirmed, returning his embrace before venturing on through the House of Hope.

805 notes · View notes

kneelingshadowsalome · 2 months

Note

literally can't stop thing about highschoolsweetheart!au where darling is 24/7 clinging onto a slightly annoyed/frustrated könig's arm, autistically chatting his ear off about random things like cute cat videos that she saw, dinosaurs or art, gushing about how much she loves him, how utterly handsome he's looking and that they're absolutely meant to be!! 🥺 always nuzzling him and pressing sweet kisses to his face.

until... maybe he snaps and shuts her up :// not in a nice way. maybe i'm projecting here, but i've been silenced before and it did nasty things to me. (bit of advice for unknowing peeps, don't make autistic people stop rambling, if you can help it. let them down gently if you must 💌)

back to our sheep... she suddenly shuts in. doesn't chat as much as before, slowly sticking to only utilitarian stuff. avoids his gaze oftenly, gradually starting to keep her distance, stops initiating affectionate things. she still absolutely adores him, but she's hurt, heart constricting in her chest. thinks she's doing him a service by listening to his 'request' at shutting the hell up, thinking she's making him happier. she's still itching to babble, making an active effort at stoping herself from going back to her rambling habits.

how would könig feel? react?

imagine what would it be like, if after some time of this distance, at a social gathering or something, he sees a man approaching her. another MAN!! how is this possible?? and he's... he's asking her about things? looking interested in her talk, eyeing her up and down??

would you do me the honour of tormenting this poor man for me? :33

Her ramblings were cute at first, then they started to go in one ear and out the other. König has a budding tinnitus from work and only wants to rest, but she skitters to him like a lovesick cat, climbs into his lap, and starts to talk his ear off about attachment styles and some pop psychology.

The enthusiasm in her eyes is what bothers him the most – he’s hit with envy, bright hot and red, because he has no time for intellectual interests these days. There's nothing but gun oil and gym to keep him busy. He was supposed to become either a philosopher or a fighter, but since they said philosophers can’t get pussy, he chose the other option (and still got little to no pussy), sad wanker as he was back then.

He either doesn’t know what the hell she is talking about or, he would want to discuss with her about the subjects she’s into, so much in fact that it would soon become an autistic competition of its own. But the deeply ingrained memory of being called a scrawny nerd is keeping his mouth shut even now, when he’s approaching his mid-thirties.

So he tells her she should read an actual book about the subject and stop filling her head with nonsense layman theories.

It hurts; it fucking burns, the mute, helpless stare she shoots at him. She scoots away, sorely upset, and won’t come back to him before the evening fall.

There's no cute noises and kisses peppered all over his face, no dangling from his neck and prattling away about the differences between C. S. Lewis and Tolkien; no videos where a cat tries to fish the last pringles with its paw or memes that remind her of him. There's just a broken girl and a knife in his heart, but he’s too ashamed and proud to apologize.

And so she comes back to him when he won't go to her, the deep yearning always overthrowing her pride. It feeds his self loath by gallons: she's better than him, always has been.

She hugs his middle when they lie down to sleep, forehead pressed against his upper back. She’s too small to reach the back of his neck, but she won’t wriggle upwards like an adorable little worm to place a kiss there like she used to. Just falls asleep with a sigh, holding him tight.

His sleep arrives only after hours have passed, and the knife inside his heart has finally done its duty and euthanized the whole organ.

They never talk about it: but she prattles far less nonsense to him now. He nearly breaks the silence one day and asks her about the Myers Pigs test or whatever it was called, see if she would crack open from her shell and laugh. He could coax her to tell him what her newest interest is nowadays, what makes her eyes bright and shiny when he’s away. But he’s too fucking ashamed, too goddamm proud to tell her that she’s annoyingly cute when she talks so much and that he fucking loves her for that. That she’s the silliest girl he’s ever met and if he had a hat, he would take it off every time she wanted to share another monologue.

If he had the balls, he would ask if she had all this madness inside her when they were kids but never had the courage to spill it out… If he's the only person she has allowed to see this side of her without fear.

...

He returns to the party after having a smoke – a bad habit everytime he knows he's about to down a few beers – only to see she’s engaged in a heated conversation with some other guy.

Or, the guy is asking questions, while his girl is about to burst out of her dress from the eagerness to tell him everything about some new hyperfixation of hers. Something she hasn’t really shared with him; not anymore...

The knife is still in his heart, it seems, because it twists. Violently.

He looks for a weapon to defend himself: an empty beer bottle, a knife on the table, an untended umbrella by the door; his fists, ungloved. It’s just a routine check, a simple habit that was hammered in his system years ago, and of course this is not the time or the place for violence. He just… fantasizes about stabbing that guy in the liver with some blunt cutlery, pounding his ribs to pieces until his knuckles bleed with jealousy. He even fantasizes her screams when she sees what kind of a man he really is: a weak wanker who turned into a pitiful beast of a man.

These flashes take only a second or two, then he squares his shoulders and goes to get his girl back.

“How about we dance,” he offers his hand to her, palm up like the other guy was made of air – or not even that.

Her eyes light up with surprise, pure, undiluted hope, her interest in her chat companion now completely gone.

“You... You want to dance?”

His lips compress into a thin line, his nostrils flaring from the need to either claim her right on this floor or turn and beat the competing dick beside him into a pulp.

Then her hand finds his, her soft little smile pulls him back, her eyes now shining to him and only him.

It’s a slow one, the song, and he only notices it when she lifts her hands and cups the back of his neck. Tingles shoot down his spine and send a curious little twitch down his dick – even his testes pull up a notch. They’ve fucked a thousand times, and still, she has this effect on him... All she needs to do is smile and touch his neck, and his body answers; he’s hers.

“Does this mean you like me…?” She asks with a playful smile when his hands come to naturally claim her waist.

“...What?”

“You saw me with that guy and came to whisk me away.”

He tries to avoid her stare, fakes to steal a glimpse at the other pairs dancing, but it’s challenging when she looks at him like… like that.

“He was drooling all over you back there,” he mutters.

“...Oh? So you came to save me?”

“You have difficulty saying no.”

She's relaxed, while he's stiff, the adrenaline leaving him slowly and with a rising boner. It doesn't help that she's drawing little circles on his skin, right there where it tickles and sends more pulls down his cock.

He tries to breathe deep and slow, but it doesn’t really work much. There are times when he gets a hard-on from her playing with his hair or brushing a set of fingertips across his nipple, and then there are times when he really wishes she wouldn’t do shit like this. Not when they’re at a party and he almost had a temper tantrum in front of everyone.

“König… You never dance,” she says with a weighted stare. He answers it with a heavy glare of his own, eyes that should tell her enough about his true feelings for her.

There’s a thin line between love and hate, but never has he felt this undeniable truth as acutely as he has with her...

“If you don’t stop with the tickling I’m going to have to take you upstairs for a fuck.”

Her tiny little fingers stop immediately, but her eyes shine brighter than ever before. From shock, love, or awe, who knows. Then she picks up that annoying habit again, a bit too keenly to convey any kind of actual fear.

“You’re begging for it, aren’t you...?” He comments with genuine contempt.

“...Yes?” She answers with a breath of a smile, pure love in her stare.

He grunts as if tired, then scoops her up, right there on the dance floor and takes her upstairs when everyone can see.

“You like me. Admit it,” she babbles when he carries her inside some guest bedroom and kicks the door shut, with her snug and smiling in his arms.

“Yes, yes. You can tell me all about everything when I’m done with you.”

“All about everything?” She giggles as he throws her on the bed and starts to take off his shirt. Her eyes shoot to his pecs, then to his fingers when he unzips his pants. There's no lie, no deceit in that stare, just adoration and want.

“First you have to be quiet. Think you can manage that?”

She opens her pink little mouth, then shuts it, starts to nod like a broken doll.

When he eventually slides in, the poor doll whimpers, just like he thought.

"Hush," he gruffs, but doesn't cover her mouth.

He can have a little taste, a sip, a treat... Because the knife in his heart stops rattling only when he makes love to her – he does that often, even if he calls it 'fucking' in his mind.

#könig x highschool sweetheart #könig angst

344 notes · View notes

zorosdimples · 9 months

Text

GOOD PET

pairing ༄ lucifer x gn!reader

warnings ༄ minors: please do not interact! i will block you. brief sexual content, pet play, dubious consent, voyeurism, exhibitionism. reader is self-conscious about their chest, but their genitalia isn’t mentioned, and they are referred to as “you.” lucifer is mean!!! please let me know if i should add anything else to the warnings!

word count ༄ 1123

notes ༄ i told jules @bizarrebankai forever ago that i would write this based on a post she made about lucifer and pet play. i never thought i would write pet play, but here we are! my initial vision for this piece was much softer, but…it took on a life of its own. i hope everyone enjoys <3

your neck prickles in anticipation as lucifer emerges from his closet and approaches you steadily, collar in hand. his predatory eyes are crimson—fresh blood on a sharp blade—but as he steps up to you, he raises a gentle gloved hand to cup your face. he breathes a wry chuckle as you melt into his hold.

“did you think you would get away unscathed after that stunt you pulled during my meeting, darling?” lucifer coos, thumb smoothing over your cheekbone, teasing tenderness. “no matter how sweet you are, you cannot escape your punishment.”

a foolish human, you rush to your own defense. “it was mammon’s idea and—” lucifer squeezes your jaw to stop your prattling, your glossy lips puckered into a cute pout.

the demon has half a mind to kiss you stupid and take you against the wall, but that wouldn’t be fun, now would it? after all: you must learn your lesson.

your gaze flickers down to the collar. the buttery black leather is accented by a gleaming buckle. no frills, no embellishments, no nonsense—much like your lover. the only notable feature of the collar is hidden on the interior lining: lucifer’s name spelled out in little silver stamps, each letter flipped backwards so when the collar hugs your neck, the cool metal nips at your warm flesh. after it’s unbuckled and removed, the demon’s name is branded into your skin.

it’s an ephemeral reminder of who you belong to.

“good pets only speak when they are spoken to,” lucifer reprimands as he fastens the collar around your neck tight enough to be uncomfortable. you whimper as you feel his name kiss your throat.

he offers you a sinister smile, wine-dark irises glowing with foreboding. “mammon will receive his punishment too, i can assure you. but i would be more concerned about myself if i were you.”

the thinly-veiled threat curls against your nape and gooseflesh skitters across your limbs. you shiver. lucifer pats your head like an owner comforting his jittery lapdog before crossing his arms and giving you a firm command: “strip.”

your fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt and you pull it off in one swift motion; your bottoms pool at your feet soon after, then finally your undergarments fly to the floor. perhaps you should feel vulnerable—nude and collared before the fully clothed demon—but you are single-mindedly focused on avoiding any further transgressions.

lucifer barely spares you a glance before he turns his back to you and walks toward the mahogany door. “better. now follow me.”

dropping on all fours, you trail after lucifer, knees knocking and palms dragging against the gnarled hardwood floor. you hesitate when he turns a corner and heads in the direction of the front entryway. as if he has eyes on the back of his head and can hear your thoughts, he stops to assert, “all my brothers are where they should be.” he doesn’t need to tell you to keep moving—the order is in the steel edge of his cool tone.

descending the stairs is difficult, and you scurry to keep pace with lucifer’s long strides, his footsteps muffled by the plush, centuries old carpet that leads to the living room. you follow him obediently down the winding halls, breathing sharply in and out of your nose so you don’t pant like a dog. confusion clouds your thoughts when the demon stops outside your bedroom.

you can taste the question that sits on the tip of your tongue, but you swallow it down. wordlessly, lucifer opens the door, and you halt mid-crawl, a shocked gasp tumbling out of your lips.

mammon is bound and gagged, hanging upside down from the ceiling. the magic-imbued rope crackles and sparks as it comes into contact with the demon’s skin, a duel between lucifer’s magic and mammon’s, the woven fibers ultimately preventing the second-born’s escape. he’s writhing around against his bonds and letting out muffled curses as you enter the room.

when mammon spots you, he ceases to struggle altogether, body sagging and golden irises wide as grimm. you scramble to preserve some modicum of dignity, falling to your knees, hands flailing to protect your chest. flames engulf your skin and tears sting at your eyes. neither of you register the sound of lucifer closing the bedroom door and the lock clicking into place.

against your better judgment, you address the demon who orchestrated this twisted rendezvous.

“lucifer? what’s going on?” you wince at the words that leave your trembling lips—unusually high-pitched and squeaky like a dog toy. your humiliation intensifies.

“did you hear something, mammon?” lucifer addresses his younger brother casually, icy voice haughty. “it sounded like…yapping.”

mammon doesn’t react to lucifer’s question, still staring at you.

“you’ve been here for a while, and still have quite some time left, so i thought i would be a good big brother and bring you a little distraction to pass the time,” lucifer explains, stroking your hair. his touch would feel absentminded if you didn’t know him so well. “isn’t that right, little one?”

your neck snaps up to look at lucifer. his heavy hand still rests atop your head and his menacing grin reveals knife-edged incisors. you tremble beneath him: easy prey.

“you and mammon got into trouble together, darling; now you shall endure your punishments together.”

lucifer’s palm curves to fist your hair and tug you forward. in an attempt to avoid being dragged, you haphazardly crawl beside him, fingernails scraping against the floor. he stops you only a few feet from where mammon swings from the rafters.

“what do you think of my pet, mammon?” lucifer taunts. each word is an alluring barb dripping with poison. you watch the white-haired demon; his adam’s apple bobs in response to his brother’s question.

lucifer switches his attention to you, kneeling down to your height, thumbing at your plush bottom lip. “how would you like to give my dear brother a little show?” he asks. your body reacts before your brain can and you nod. his lips tug into a smirk. “i knew you would.”

your stomach turns as lucifer stands up and unbuckles his belt. his voice is low as he orders, “on your knees.” hot tears are already blurring your vision as you wobble into position.

lucifer pulls his cock out of his trousers, flushed and oozing precum. “tongue out.”

you do as he says, pink muscle lolling out of your mouth, salivating in anticipation. lucifer smacks his heavy tip onto your extended tongue and you stay still, awaiting his next order. under your fluttering lashes your wet gaze is glued to his; he beams.

“good pet.”

you are too rapt to notice your audience’s stifled groans and the prominent bulge in his jeans.

525 notes · View notes

hiroshiii13 · 1 month

Text

Head Disciple Binghe x Young Master SY #Bingqiu thoughts

Sometimes I think about Binghe that didn’t have to lose his parents. Didn’t have to go through the abyss and didn’t have to fight for the acknowledgment of his Shizun.

He’d be the darling of the demonic and cultivation world; doted upon in his younger years and a respected cultivator after his coming of age. He’d be self-assured, almost cocky, the way young masters who have never experienced being wronged are.

But Binghe would always have the skills to back it up, besides his innate talent, Su Xiyan, head of HHP, made sure that his son was grounded and hardworking. In fact, he commands HHP when his parents would up and travel for months at a time.

He’s forthright, which he learned from his mother, yet empathetic and charming, which he got from his romantic father.

I still think Bingqiu would be a thing. They meet as desk mates (borrowing this @/Gusu Lan arc) and wouldn’t hit it off at the start.

SY has always admired Binghe from the stories he’s heard from his older siblings. Binghe, the leader of the next generation. He looked forward to meeting him.

Imagine his surprise when the first day of his excursion led to sparring with said leader of the next generation and his humiliating utmost defeat in .005 seconds. He wanted to look cool in front of him but he can forego this embarrassment. It’s okay!!! This was expected from Binghe!!

But what was not okay was the harsh training at HHP. SY could not help but feel a little resentful towards BH. He was the third son in a merchant family. His family’s cultivation was in refining pills and artifacts, you could say it’s 80% marketing and 20% refining even, so he had never done hard labor in his life!!

He almost regretted saying he would join HHP for the summer instead of joining another sect specializing in botany and alchemy, which was his specialization.

Binghe, as the head disciple in charge of training, provided a plan that was standard in his sect. While he does enjoy seeing this pretty gege scrunching his brows, pursing his lips, flushed like a tomato during drills, (Heh.) he does feel pity and gives him a little less reps.

But it’s in the study portions where SY shines. LBH is astounded with SY’s encyclopedic knowledge.

Reminiscent of the child-like wonder he experienced as TLJ told him stories before bedtime. Of monsters that can swallow suns and plants with roots so deeply in the earth that it shakes. He learns later on of course that these were mere exaggerations but at that time, as SY babbles on about plant no. 4892, he could not help but feel that same fascination.

Their relationship starts getting better. Binghe would pick his desk mates brain despite knowing (some) of the answers, the other would prattle on, patiently teaching.

From an outsiders point of view, LBH looked indulgent, a soft smile ever present on his face, while his deskmate would fan himself while explaining, obviously enjoying the attention. And who could blame him?? He was teaching THE Luo Binghe! From then on, Binghe would teasingly call him Shizun.

Despite SY being slightly older than BH, he is the youngest son, (he has 1 meimei) in their family. Compared to Binghe who was raised to meet certain expectations, SY had a more unrestrained behavior. If he wanted a snack, he would get it. If he wanted to nap, he snuck it in.

And nothing could stop Binghe from doting on him on their free time. As an only child, he never had someone to spoil or play with so he recaptures some of his childhood like this. Sharing snacks, showing parts of HHP and sometimes sparring in the fields between laughter.

But SY’s pride cannot take being coddled, he’s older than him! so he dotes back. Bringing him refined pills for his cultivation, sending in some rare herbs and animal skin. (He is working his nepo baby network overtime!)

When he teaches BH during self-study, he compliments him when he gets things right while patting his head. And how BH thrives from being dotted on, now at his grown age! LBH feels lucky.

He found someone, who was not only smart and chatty, but was thoughtful and indulgent towards him. He… he really liked SY. Meanwhile SY found himself even more gently stroking his hair. He can’t wait to share to his siblings how the great LBH was completely docile from his head patting. SY could not help ruffling his curly hair, almost pulling. (As for what that would awaken later on, we won’t discuss.)

They part after that summer, but keep in touch through letters. Both feeling a longing to meet. SY decides to pick up a sword and learn how to fly it. He can definitely learn it and fly to HH and casually meet BH. His siblings give it a week til he gives up. But surprisingly 1 week turns into 2, then a month, then on the 6th month he could fly long distances.

His nausea was still as bad as ever but he can endure, he will learn how to endure. As to why he didn’t tell Binghe though? he didn’t know why he wanted to keep this as a surprise.

—

The Immortal Alliance Conference was upon them, and SY had received BH’s letter and how he might not be able to respond as quickly for the time being. But in fact, he was very much aware of the event. He even haughtily bet a few hundred spirit stones when someone mockingly said LBH would not place.

No one could escape his scalding critique had anyone even breathed wrongly towards BH. The public ate their melon seeds while watching another one succumb to that monster. They could not outbid him and even more so, out talk him. What a rabid fanboy. He gained notoriety overnight.

So imagine their surprise when the conference was over. How LBH saw SY, how he ran and hugged him, bombarding him questions of how he got there. LBH showing a small cut the size of a nail, a slight glassy look in his eyes as he retold his hardship and triumph.

The passersby knew it was an exaggeration, they were all watching him effortlessly kill the demons!! His confidence practically oozing. Even the ladies fainted against such charisma. What is this?? The fiersome leader selling meng??

AND THE DEVIL INCARNATE, who ate his every opponent in a bloodless battle, was suddenly a gentleman, waving his fan with a sweet smile, talking softly while patting the champion’s head.

WTF??

They take a few more years of friendship before eventually tying the knot but their families have long known each other since those two have been inseparable. SY spends his days at HHP in the summers while LBH goes with the other’s family in winter. TLJ still feels a little sour in his heart that his son would spend his bdays w/ SY more than them.

The 2 men were even more sticky when they got married. Waking up, preparing meals, cleaning up, lounging, it’s as if they could not get enough of the other. The Regret of Chunshan exists btw, but rather than an angsty story of abandonment and conflict, it is said that they just, really, really loved each other for a lifetime.

(Of course the papapa is front and center!! LMY writes about a rich, young master fanboy and his seemingly respectable cultivator idol having loving, disrespectful, s/ex. She delivers always!)

END.

#svsss #mxtx #luo binghe #bingqiu #shen qingqiu #hiroshi drabble

156 notes · View notes

mellowsadistic · 10 months

Text

Changing Her Hobbies

Your girlfriend may well have some hobbies and interests that you don't approve of. Perhaps you're worried being into football is making her hang out with the wrong crowd, or maybe you think chess is just too grown-up for a silly little thing like her. Whatever the case, the solution is simple. Just tell her she doesn't like those things anymore, and give her a new list of things she likes to do in their place.

Be firm, as she's likely to get very fussy over this. She might complain that she's the only real authority on herself, or insist that it's impossible for her to start liking something just because you've ordered her to. If that happens, just spank her bare bottom over your knee and remind her that you're her Daddy and you know best. Enforce her new hobbies with a strict discipline program and she'll soon learn to engage in them with a smile.

I promise you the results are worth it. I know a man who used this strategy to radically alter his girlfriend’s personality. He loved her very much, but he was sick and tired of her bad attitude and refusal to accept her place as his inferior. He put it down to the kind of activities she liked to take part in, so with a firm hand and a bit of patience, he changed them to better reflect her immature nature. Here’s a before and after of her hobbies:

Things she used to like:

Playing guitar

Reading classic literature

Trying on stylish clothes

Going clubbing with her friends

Having debates about politics

Playing hockey

Going out for romantic dinners

Things she likes now:

Playing with dolls

Watching Disney channel

Running around naked

Doing the housework

Wetting herself for attention

Practicing ballet

Sucking cock under the table

It was a difficult transition for her. She’d always been a bit of a tomboy, so it wasn’t easy for her to adjust to playing with Barbies and prancing about in a tutu. It wasn’t easy to get used to stripping off all her fashionable clothes and going streaking around the house in the nude periodically either, like a toddler with no concept of modesty. Nor was she keen to spend her time watching TV aimed at tweens when she wasn’t scrubbing the floors, making dinner, or doing the laundry. It was especially hard for her to learn that she liked to give frequent blowjobs (she insisted she hated them for the longest time), and she was in complete denial about her desire to regularly pee her pants for attention. However, with enough corrective punishment, she eventually learned to accept her true self.

These days she pouts at the suggestion of going out partying, but bounces up and down with excitement at the thought of mopping the floor. She has no desire to play guitar, and reading anything more advanced than a picture book would bore her to tears, but she can happily spend the whole afternoon glued to her favourite cartoons or prattling away at her baby doll, rocking it in her arms and changing its nappy (and hoping Daddy doesn’t follow through on his threat to put her in nappies because of all the ‘accidents’ she’s been having). She never talks about politics anymore, partly because she has no idea what’s going on in the world since her Daddy banned her from reading the news, and getting involved in rough and tumble sports like hockey would just be silly for a sweet little pirouetting princess like her. It’s much more fun to put on ballet performances for Daddy and her dollies. Modelling the latest trends is a thing of the past for her too; in fact, it’s a struggle to keep any kind of clothes on her since she’s always wanting to be Daddy’s little nudist - why wear a cute pair of jeans when she could just go bare-bottomed instead? And why would she want to go out to a fancy restaurant for a romantic meal when she could just serve Daddy his dinner herself before crawling under the table to suck his dick while he eats?

Sometimes she slips up. She looks bored while playing with her dolls, or casts a longing look at a guitar in the window display of a music store. She might go too long without wetting herself or forget to smile while she's doing the polishing. When that happens, her boyfriend is always quick to reacquaint her bottom with his hand, or even the paddle. A 'fake it till you make it' policy is important to enforce here. Make your girlfriend pretend to enjoy her new hobbies, and eventually, over time, she'll learn to like them for real. And if not, don't worry, because you won't know the difference!

#mellowsadistic

426 notes · View notes

my-castles-crumbling · 5 months

Note

Remus and James gift shopping for Sirius and Regulus and vice versa

I took a few creative liberties but this was SO MUCH FUN!

“This is impossible,” Regulus murmured, very tempted to slam his head against a nearby wall.

“James will like whatever you get him,” Sirius complained, throwing his hands up. “Remus is impossible! He only likes sweaters and books and he has a million of both!”

“Remus saves every single tissue you blow into. He’ll treasure whatever you wrap up. James has more money than he knows what to do with. What am I supposed to get him that he doesn’t already have?” Regulus shot back.

They both stood in the Muggle street, back-to-back, staring around the stores.

“Why the fuck did we go to a Muggle shopping area?” Regulus griped after a moment of silence.

Sirius shrugged helplessly. “It was supposed to be cute,” he murmured. “Like…original, or something.”

Regulus scoffed. “Let’s go,” he ordered decisively, and started dragging Sirius away.

But Sirius froze and pointed towards a small, brightly-decorated shop that looked like the advertising was aimed towards five-year-olds. “Reg, look!”

“Sirius…absolutely not.”

“C’mon, Reggie! It’s cute! Festive!”

“No, Sirius, I-”

“If you don’t come with me, I’ll tell James about that sweater you have stashed under your bed. You know, the one you stole from him and now you cuddle with every-” Sirius threatened, a devilish grin on his face.

“Fine!” Regulus agreed, trying not to turn pale. Asshole.

Two identical packages lay under the tree Christmas morning. One addressed to Remus and the other addressed to James.

Regulus tried not to stare at them.

“Alright, these are for you two!” Sirius said happily, gesturing to the two boxes and then to Remus and James.

Regulus tried not to hit him.

Paper was torn. Boxes opened. And inside…

“....Mugs?”

Regulus could see Remus’s lips quiver as he tried not to smile at his mug.

“We painted them, Moony!” Sirius exclaimed, with the air of a child finally able to discuss a very thrilling secret.

It was true. Sirius had blackmailed Regulus into painting mugs together in a small pottery painting shop. The experience had been rather tortuous for Regulus- to curb Sirius’s energy was difficult in a normal setting, let alone a place with so many breakable items. Indeed, Sirius was still washing paint out of his hair.

“It’s beautiful, Padfoot,” Remus grinned, looking over his mug.

Sirius immediately glowed and began pointing out all of the things he had crammed onto the mug- pictures of wolves and dogs and stars and moons and books and chocolate and so much more, all looking as though a toddler had fingerpainted it.

Remus, of course, looked no less than thrilled, nodding along and asking appropriate questions as Sirius prattled on.

James, however, was examining his mug with a very different expression.

Regulus had gone for a somewhat different approach. He’d painted the mug a deep black and painstakingly plotted out each of the stars on the Leo constellation, then taken hours to illustrate the constellation with the smallest brush he could find. The only star that was not white was Regulus- the heart of Leo.

“It’s you…and me…” Regulus explained softly to James, feeling very self-conscious. James stayed silent, turning the mug over and over in his hand, still staring. Regulus felt pressured to continue. “I know you don’t drink a lot of tea or coffee but Sirius insisted that this was original and I thought maybe this was an okay idea because, you know, you’re like the lion…because of Gryffindor…and I’m, you know…Regulus. Heart…of the lion…”

But then James looked up at him, tears in his eyes, and he trailed off, his stomach like lead. Did James hate it that much? Had he fucked up that bad? Oh, gods, was James going to break up with him? Fuck, fuck, fuck-

“It’s perfect,” James whispered reverently.

And damn, he looked amazed. He looked at Regulus like he was…in love.

And before he knew it, Regulus felt himself pulled into a kiss.

Keep sending requests, guys! I love them!

399 notes · View notes