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firecurls-27 · 1 year

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(Eeeeyyyyy my first fanfic and it’s cupchal! :D sorry for poor grammar)

☆*:.｡.GUARDIAN DEMON.｡.:*☆

Chapter one: bump in the night

Isle 4, Inkwell church, July 9th, 1933.

It was a usual day, the helpers would open the church doors, take peoples coats, grab a seat and get ready for prayer and one of the bishops regularly stories from the Bible.

Cuphead was always the more adventurous one out of everyone in the church, he wasn’t afraid of taking care of the cockroaches in the kitchen, he pulled harmless pranks (banana peel gag, bucket of water gag, the usual) today he had planned something more mischievous. As the bishop turned to the next page, POP! an explosion of glitter fell onto his face! Cuphead laughed hysterically but slowly stopped as he saw no one laughing with him. Most people stared in anger or disappointment, his friends and brother stared with worry.

“What? Not a fan of sparks?” He said to the crowd with cockiness. “Oh boy…” mugman sighed.

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆

It was now late at night, and cuphead was in charge of mopping the floors. “Stupid bishop…making me mop floors on a Sunday night…not my fault he can’t take a joke…” he mumbled angrily. One of the nuns was in charge of keeping an eye on cuphead while he did his chores after hours, sister beetrice. Once a part of a mean green veggie gang, now snoring on a bench in the house of god.

Cuphead had only mopped half of the church, but he thought he could tip toe away back home if he was very, very careful.

That’s when he heard it. It sounded like, dancing?

It was coming from outside, he heard sister beetrice slowly starting to wake up, but it was a false alarm. He slowly crept to the doors and stepped outside, and that’s when he saw her.

Standing on top of the church’s roof was a girl around cuphead’s age. she was a chalice, with her handles and her rim painted a dull pink, she had a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, she had a vest that was a more vibrant color pink, a skirt that went down to her knees, a pair of yellow gloves with claws hidden underneath, she had stockings with a pattern of pink and white, and two devilish horns above her handles to match, her eyes were a deep red with yellow sclera’s, and two big wings that had a deep magenta.

She danced with grace as she moved across the church’s roof, across the statues, her beauty embraced by the moonlight. Cuphead was frozen in awe, it was like he was hypnotized, he couldn’t take his eyes off her, she was so beautiful. A million thoughts rushed through his head. Who was she? What’s her name? Where was she from? Where’d she learn to dance like that?

The girl had a sudden stop when she noticed cuphead on the ground beneath her, she jumped down off the roof and stared at him right in the eyes. That sudden feeling of amazement had been erased by fear. He had a closer look at her, realizing what she was…

He couldn’t process his thoughts “A-are you a-a-a-a-” “A. A. A. DEMON?” The girl mimicked in a booming voice, cuphead could’ve sworn the ground had shook!

Cuphead slowly backed away towards the church entrance, it was a pretty deep fall if you weren’t careful. He turned his head and saw he was on the edge of the entrance, his heart started pounding faster as he felt a cold breeze on his back. This is it. He would’ve fallen to his death.

He felt something sharp on his chest, it was the girl! She grabbed him by his shirt collar and tossed him on the concrete. It was a pretty aggressive way to save someone, but nonetheless he was grateful.

“Ow! U-uh, thank you miiissssss……”

“Malice. Ms malice. And don’t you tell another livin’ soul I saved ya or you’re dead meat, hear me loud and clear?”

“Um, yes ma’am!” Cuphead said nervously. He stopped with sudden realization “Now wait just a minute!” He told her firmly “if you’re a demon, why’d you save me? Are you gonna kill me and take my soul?”

“Nah. I just thought it would be a pretty pathetic death if you fell off the balcony of a church.” Ms malice chuckled.

He pulled at his shirt collar. “W-w-well, I appreciate you saving me, but n-no demons allowed near the church! Shoo!” Cuphead said, waving his hand.

“Alright! alright! see you around, puella.” Ms malice said, more sweetly this time. She spread her wings and with a big push, was up in the air. Cuphead was in awe again, focusing on nothing but her.

“CUPHEAD!” He shouted.

“What?” Ms malice said, she was very confused. “M-MY NAME IS CUPHEAD!” What was he DOING? Why would he give that demon his name? Now she’s never leave! But…something in him said that…maybe it won’t be that bad?

Ms chalice giggled “well then. I’ll see you around, cuphead.” She said as she flew off into the night.

Cuphead still stared at her as she flew off. On one hand he wanted her out, if she stuck around him he’d surely go to hell! On the other…why if she could be redeemed? Then maybe she could stay!

He heard the church doors open, it was sister beetrice! She was very sleepy, so she didn’t check the floors and assumed it was done. “Alright, I guess you’re finished, c’mon, let’s head to bed.” She yawned.

She grabbed cuphead by the hand and lead him in the church, but he was still lost in thought and continued looking into the night sky til, the doors finally closed.

(Well! That’s all I got for chapter one! What’d you think? :D)

#my post #cuphead #cuphead: ddwtd #the cuphead show #cuphead au #cuphead oc #? kinda #cupchal #Spotify #tw religion #please dont let this flop

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magic-hcs · 1 year

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(Hi again I’m sending a matchup again because I forgot to add my hobbies so ignore/delete my first request Please I’m so sorry ;-;)

Anyways here it is:

Personality: Shy, quiet and awkward at first but When person who is close to me, I’m Sweet, bubbly and funny sometimes

Gender: Female (She/her)

Likes: The color pink, Anything about food (because I’m a foodlover), cutecore aesthetic and plushies

Dislikes: Ocean, Darkness and Arguing

Hobbies: Singing, Dancing, baking and playing video games

Multiple and I don’t mind poly

(I’m so sorry again ;-;)

No need to apologize! It’s all good.

I hope you like the matchup!

~~matching…~~matching~….~matching…~DING~

You match completely with Coal!

You match with Crest!

✨✨

(SF Papyrus) Coal:

Your love for cute stuff definitely drew him to you! And it all started with him commenting on a cute keychain character of a game you played at a game store. It just so happened that Coal was interested in that same thing and he didn’t have anyone he knew that was interested in that game so he couldn’t help but blurt out. “-! hey, that’s that -whatsem name again - the fluffbutt. where’d ye get em?”

(How romantic am I right?)

Coal can be an awkward bean at times when he’s not accompanied by his brother Mastiff. (When the twins are together Coal has both their brain cells and is capable of speech without feeling socially awkward but when separated Mastiff has both of them.) But you guys manage to hit it off by your shared like for the game.

Lowkey, highkey, as Coal got to know you he found your shy demeanor accompanied by your cute style adorable. He down right swooned when you finally let your bubbly side show.

You’re the perfect person to build pillow forts with and snuggle while video gaming. Loves playing animal crossing with you. Your plushie collection has Coal in awe, if you’re not careful you’ll find him asleep inside the pile of plushies.

The kind of guy to tease and bother you while you’re busy in the kitchen baking, he will cause a flour fight. Also he’d kill for your baking. You two are two precious beans.

✨✨

(AT Papyrus) Crest:

This boyo could be a good match too!

You warm up to him quickly with his bright and honest personality. This boy is a rambler, his mind is always being busy so sometimes he ends up talking about whatever comes to his mind.

Make sure he wears his talon and claw protectors when he’s around your plushies, otherwise there’s a chance he might end up ripping them.

Crest will stop whatever he’s doing to listen to you sing. Or to watch you dance without care and with so much joy. Dancing and singing is a big thing in the bird side of monster culture, and it means a lot to Crest that you feel comfortable around him enough to freely sing and dance to your hearts content.

The first time you saw him really dance, it was a courtship dance meant for you. His wings alight with intricate glowing patterns. It was also the first time you saw him so shy as he landed in front of you to ask if you accept his courtship.

This sneaky birb will sometimes attempt to snag your recently baked cookies. Or swoop in to nuzzle your face or twirl you around before taking off again.

Let him paint you at least once! I don’t mean on paper either, more like body paint. He wants to see what kind of gorgeous creations and creatures he can make with you as his canvas. It’s both intimate and lighthearted at the same time.

Crest is a very loving and affectionate lover.

✨✨

Sadly enough, Crest is not one to share his mate so no poly in this matchup. But I hope you enjoyed either way!

#papyrus #undertale #swapfell #papyrus x reader #aviantale #aviantale papyrus #200 followers matchup event #matchup #swapfell papyrus #coal #crest

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shadowjag · 8 months

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Ok this is another writing prompt piece I did not too long ago. Hope you enjoy!

Prompt: Something long forgotten found in the attic during spring cleaning.

*************************************************

It was never an easy task and Oliver always put it off till the end of his normal spring cleaning, hoping that he could push it to another occasion once again, but this year was not the case. He had planned to leave this house by winter so it was best just to get everything sorted out sooner than later. He stared across the attic space, half filled boxes and trunks scattered across the floors,most of it from his father’s younger years, long before he settled into this place. It had been not long after his parents met that they moved into this house. Many happy memories were made and stored in these boxes, but now that his parents had passed it held the faded pictures of his upbringing and the last pieces of either parent since their passing. Now with a heavy sigh Oliver started to go through the boxes closest to him, as expected they were filled with photo albums and old clothing from when he was a kid. Several of the items brought a small sad smile to his face as he looked at them. He removed those boxes noting on the side of them what they were and reminding himself whether they were to stay or go. He then moved farther into the attic to look through more boxes, these ones holding mostly junk saved for reasons unknown to him but he went through and found a handful of things that were still useful, tossing the rest out and placing the box in the pile for trash. This pattern continued for several hours as he waded through what his father had left to him. Oliver took pause as he got to the far corner of the attic staring at a trunk that looked far more expensive than the rest, it was made of dark wood with large leaves carved into it painted bright green but years of sitting in the dark and dust had dulled its colors. It’s presence made Oliver pause as he looked at it, it didn’t look like anything else his parents had kept. Upon opening it he found inside armor that seemed to belong to his father worn leather scorched slightly along its edges, a long bow the same scorch marks covering most of it the string broken long ago. His father had mentioned how he used to guide people hunting long ago. Looking deeper he found a pair of daggers nearly broken in half, a book scorched almost beyond reading, the words inside were in a language Oliver didn’t understand, a necklace with a symbol that he didn’t quite recognize and a shield with a dragon on it clawed and scorched like the rest. At the bottom was a book wrapped in old leather and as Oliver picked it up and opened it a small photo fell to the floor. Oliver picked it up, finding it to be a picture of his father and three others whose gear he realized matched the pieces in the chest. The words written on the back were in his father’s hand, it read, “The Light of the Blue Forest celebrating before they leave to take on Dragon of Calder pass.” His father never talked about his days before he met Oliver’s mother, maybe this journal held the answers as to why.

#fantasy #dnd #my writing #writing prompt #creative writing #short story #dungeons and dragons #Please be kind I'm doing my best #tw implied death

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abstracthappiness · 1 year

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microfiction, October 30 - November 5

The General was not impressed by her little rebellion. “You’re mine, Lorelei—I’ll see you dead before I let you leave.” “The last man who tried to own me said the same—he was a king, and nigh-immortal, and he still died cursing my name. You have no power over me.”

Lady Black emerges from the hollow tree; her dress the color of dirt, her hands stained red. She has come to read the stars, on behalf of some fae King, underground, sleeping. She speaks with her hands and her eyes. She rarely brings good news.

The jack-o’lantern grins and grimaces, flickering and flinching, come alive with Nate’s soul. “Don’t you miss me, Sadie?” it asks, in his familiar smoker’s rasp. “I guess not. After all, you’re the one who buried me in the pumpkin patch.”

Her Halloween ghost knocks, and she wishes she could stay in bed. The first person she touches today will drop dead and haunt her for the next year. “Trick or treat,” repeats in the corner—the last words of last year’s victim. She hates when it’s a kid.

The demon’s touch was possessive; his eyes full of greed. “I could give you everything you want. The moon, the stars, and all the planets besides.” “And all it will cost is my soul, right?” I’d heard this tale before. “Oh, so much more than just your soul.”

It was a small kindness, but she knew he was not kind. She had once watched the King feed a deer from his hand, only to snap its neck a moment later. He was a clawed hand inside a velvet glove; he was a shark in calm waters, always smelling blood.

He traced her lips, his thumb resting on top of the Cupid’s Bow curve. “Did you know this line is called the philtrum? Such an unlovely name for where an angel touched you.” “What should we call it when a demon touches there?” Her fingers graze the base of his horns.

You dislike the painting in your room, a portrait of an old woman—only she seems to be getting younger. Her eyes are shut in the daytime, open at night. Sometimes she holds a knife. You wake with fresh cuts on your arms. You sleep with matches under your pillow.

A young woman puts on her wedding dress, twirling like a princess. Motes of poisoned dust release from the lace, mixing with light and laughter. The wedding song shifts into a funeral knell. The maid of honor, a dressmaker, comforts the grieving groom.

A true magician never reveals his secrets—but a foolish one might underestimate his assistant. Find himself helpless in his own top hat, reduced to white fur and quivering nose. Held up by long ears to rousing applause. Never seen again—what a legend, what a legacy.

The gramophone was haunted, of course—she expected nothing less from an antique that Kyle brought home. But the strangest part was when he tried playing a record. Instead of Dizzy Gillespie’s trumpet, their grandmother’s voice starting speaking to them—warning them.

A pregnant girl appeared at the gate, begging for asylum. She was branded with the Duke’s mark, which made Pat nervous, but he didn’t argue with me. The Riders came for her two days later. Billy shot four dead before they scattered. Now we wait for a war.

The record spins, a gruesome ode dragged from the grooves. It echos around the house until everyone drops dead, hearts stopped. The man in black smiles, as the music reaches what festers within the walls. The house will be well fed tonight.

Everyone made fun of Tara’s brother for his constant flirtation with the moon; he even invited the heavenly body to prom. A person of ambiguous gender showed up at the dance, with glowing skin, silver hair—and eyes only for Sammy, holding out impossible silver roses.

The characters startled when their writer appeared, anachronistically dressed and waving a battered novel. “No, no, no! It’s right here, on page 394—the origin of the beast is occult in nature, not extraterrestrial—this is a fantasy, not science fiction!”

The fox capers for the children (sometimes stealing one away). It pilfers pies from windowsills, laughs with the crows. A local burned the fox’s tail to drive it off; that man dropped dead at the crossroads a fortnight later, face frozen in terror—red fur on his coat.

read more on twitter: kattra | prompts: vss365 / GothicMicro / vssNature / vssHalloween / vssHauntedHouse / whistpr / WeirdMicro / 2WordPrompt / flexvss / HorrorMicro / vssDaily / SciFiFri / SciFanSat

#microfiction #vss #flash fiction #writeblr #writing #my writing #kattra #original fiction #fiction #fantasy #horror #supernatural #paranormal #scifi #scribblings #spooky stories

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undead-merman · 3 years

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🧜‍♂️MerMay- The Brothers🧜‍♂️GN Reader- SFW

Lucifer

Appearance

Lucifer has a long black tail with a hint of a royal blue striping on the back. His scales are smooth and small, ganoid shaped and are completely flat. A few black scales are on his face, just at the corner of his eyes giving them a sharper appearance and forming a diamond shape on his forehead. There is one scale slightly out of place on his diamond mark; it's not noticeable unless seen close up.

His fins are long and flowing and are in the shape of rounded spades. He has a tear on his dorsal fin which goes all the way through the fin and has a scar on his back. His caudal fin is the largest on his body and has a peacock like pattern that can be flushed making the colors go from the normally black with barely visible blue to bright flashy blues, and reds on deep blacks.

His human skin is colored like a great white shark: creamy light skin on his stomach, fading to grey on his back; granting him the ability to countershade and aid in avoiding detection from above and below.

His face exhibits many shark features: broad and round head, small eyes, his mouth is filled with large teeth, and a flat nose.

Daily life

He’s very broody so he prefers the twilight and night hours; being accustomed to swimming in the deep parts of the ocean, too much light hurts his eyes but he also just enjoys the dark endless water with starlight above.

He has a very strict schedule, patrolling his nest, fighting off intruders, meeting up with Diavolo to hunt, clean up his brother's messes, patrol, try to sleep and get interrupted by one of his brothers if not more, and repeat.

He’s a carnivore so he enjoys eating whales, and sharks. He dislikes crabs and lobsters since they’re bottom feeders and he finds the idea of eating them very distasteful.

He’s meticulous with grooming himself. He’s always sharpening his claws and forever growing teeth, picking them and cleaning them until they gleam in the light and buffing his scales to make them shimmer.

When alone he enjoys trying to nap amongst a peaceful patch of seagrass. Drifting away slowly as curious little fish swim around him and the plant life softly brushes by with the current.

He enjoys playing the violin, which surprisingly works, making melodies that haunt divers unfortunate enough to hear.

Life with you

If you're a morning person you’ll get to see his sleeping unguarded face. He’ll try to wake up with you once he realizes, and within a few weeks he’ll be waking up far before you. He somehow has a built-in clock wired to try and make him wake up before you.

If you're a night person he’s thrilled to share some of the prettiest sights the ocean has to offer when the moon is out. Showing you his favorite spots to enjoy the night in silence.

He becomes very protective of you and constantly scents you before leaving your side. Rubbing his palms on your cheeks or circling his tail loosely around you before brushing up on you as he swims away. No one will dare come near you if you smell so much like him.

He hates to admit it but he has the natural instinct of him bringing shiny things to you. He won’t even notice it until he pulls your hands in his and suddenly you have a shiny piece of sea glass in your hand. His face heats up if you tease him about it and suddenly he finds a speck on the wall very interesting.

Mammon

Appearance

As golden as gold can look, being actual gold, Mammon has the boldest scales of all the brothers. He’s not sure why they are, they’ve just always been that way and their weight doesn’t seem to be affected. His scales are ctenoid and can cut if he flares his scales and hits you with his tail. He doesn’t have any scales on his face and his skin seems to glow in the morning sun.

His fins are exactly like that of a long spined sea scorpion with them having large painful spines inside them. Unlike the other fish he has a painful venom that can leave someone reeling in pain for days. It won’t kill but it’ll hurt!

He has two sets of canines that are very noticeable when he opens his mouth to talk. His upper right canine tooth has a gold coating making the tooth look like it’s made of gold. The top pair always hang out of his mouth while the lower one is hidden.

He has shorter nails more meant for prying than slashing. Though they’re surprisingly well manicured and painted white.

Daily life

100% a morning person. Wakes up all groggy but after brushing his scales he's peppy and ready to start the day.

Mammon hoards his shedded scales, after all they are gold. He puts them in an old vintage submariner foot locker, nearly rotted apart but he sticks random stickers or patches onto it to help keep it together. A lot of the time the brothers will just take the money they are owed from the chest and Mammon whines about it; however, if they're pissed they’ll pluck some scales from him painfully.

His scales get plucked often: by the sea witches to whom he owes a massive debt to, his angry brothers, even Solomon sometimes plucks them off like he’s a pez dispenser. Because of this he sometimes has very sensitive scaleless spots. They grow back within a day but it still hurts.

He joins Lucifer in patrolling their territory. He’s just as protective over his space as Lucifer is, and of course he wants to look out for his younger brothers, but he won’t admit that unless it gives him a chance to use pity points to get out of trouble.

Very particular about his scales. He wants them looking pretty and as bright as they can be. Contrarily, he doesn’t give the same treatment for his hair, calling running his hands through to get the tangles out good enough.

Life with you

If you show concern for his scales he’ll play it off like it doesn’t hurt and it's really just a bother, but it isn’t. If you continue to worry about him or even offer to help patch him up he will become much more protective of you. You treat him so kindly that he doesn’t want that to stop.

If he’s in a bad mood or he gets jealous of someone, he'll grab you and shove his face into your neck and twist till his face is thoroughly buried. He wants to smell you so he can calm down and basically scream at anyone who comes by that you are something very close to Mammon so don't you dare touch.

He’ll try to drag you around to join in his mischief. Joining him in gambling rings or minnow racing. He’ll insist you're a lucky charm, though he just likes your company. He loves to bear hug you if he wins big and he holds you above him in the water with a big smile on his face.

Another victim of random shiny gifts for you. He's more aware of it and brags about how neat it looks even if it's just some old mirror. He’s always trying to play up how amazing his little gifts are.

Leviathan

Appearance

His tail is very long, much longer than his brothers though it's thinner and has less muscle. His scales are ganoid shaped and colored the same color as his hair with a white underneath. During the night he has bright cyan bioluminescence circles on his sides. His eyes and tongue glowing as well with a very faint glow to his teeth as well.

He’s embarrassed about it but he has multiple random patches of scales around his face and he thinks it makes him look weird.

His fins are shaped much like a goldfish, even having a round double tail and flowing fins. He is the most delicate looking one. But if he gets angry he transforms into a gigantic sea monster and can cause storms.

He’s an omnivore so his teeth are small and much like a humans. They fall out if they get damaged but like a shark they’ll always grow back.

His skin is also counter shaded like Lucifer. Though more ashy gray color than his older brother. Unfortunately his bioluminescent colored scales, even though they pulse in brightness, make him much easier to spot.

Daily life

He’s a night dweller through and through and refuses to swim during daylight hours. He likes to dwell in deeper waters so the light isn’t too much for him; but he mostly likes to stay in his cave and obsess over his washed up anime knicknacks. Making sure to pluck away barnacles and clean the muck off.

Since he’s an omnivore he’ll eat whatever is nearby. He enjoys jellyfish and the deadlier they are to humans the more he likes them. He's unaffected by their venom. Though he’ll enjoy a crab or free swimming fish.

Leviathan does not like patrolling; he’d much rather leave the scuffling to everyone else so he can focus on more important things, like trying to dry out a keyboard in his open air room.

His room is open air and inside a cave that can be accessed by a nearby beach. Inside is a shrine to his collection and he’s always fawning over it.

He loves that he matches with his fish friend Henry. They are extremely similar in shape, even having similar tails. He has a fresh water tank inside so Henry doesn’t get too dried up from the salt water. Leviathan can handle both fresh and saltwater so sometimes he hops into the tank to swim near his friend.

He’s very self conscious of his scales, especially the ones on his face so he has to make sure they look nice. His hair has to be styled just right to distract them from his face. He has a habit of pulling his bangs down over his eyes when he’s flustered.

Life with you

Once he’s bonded with you he is constantly by your side and wanting to spend as much quality time with you as he can. He’ll be trailing you talking about the little curiosities he’s found. He whines about how he wants to go back to his cave but he won’t leave your side.

He’ll show you his collection of nicknacks and if you're able to set up a little television and gamecube he’ll be ecstatically waving his fish tail around like a dog. He’ll constantly beg you to play with him. He wants to CO-OP this game with you!

If he’s feeling cuddly that day he’ll float up to the surface and let you lounge on him and let the waves gently rock you both. He’ll hum old sea shanties he’s heard from sailors long ago as well as some anime songs from a series you enjoy together.

Expect him to drag you to his spots for finding his little curiosities, he’ll want you to help him scour the area and find more fun items. He’s very happy with whatever you bring and he’ll keep them around his nest.

Satan

Appearance

Satan is built similarly to Lucifer though his scales are more raised and spiny. His tail is a bright shamrock green which shifts to a seafoam green. He has a bunch of scales on the corners of his mouth and completely covers his cheeks.

His fins are long and have a crowntail shape that are tipped a deep black. When he gets angry his fins flare up making him look much, much bigger.

He has a flatter nose and bigger teeth like Lucifer. While they aren’t as sharp they are still dangerous if he’s mad.

His skin also glows in the bright morning sun and if he’s lounging around he’ll attract nearby small fish to swim around him enjoying the serene glow he has.

Daily life

He takes a long time waking up, and he’s not a morning person at all. He’s dazed for an hour or so until he’s fully awake, though he’s not much of a night person, more preferring midday.

He’s currently got the goal of piecing together the world’s true histories. Figuring out what happened to old forgotten cities, lost treasures, and destroyed civilizations. He has a long way to go and he treats this handcrafted book like a child, holding it far above the water.

He explores with random, yet reputable exploration teams. Helping them with identifying relics or gems. He’s earned a reputation for himself by doing this and is often approached to go on expeditions.

He is another type to patrol around his territory. He does it around midday though and hunts during these. He’s a carnivore and likes tuna and other free swimming fish, but refuses to eat squid and octopi due to how smart they are. He likes to feed nearby ones. Though they aren’t as cute as human world cats.

He’ll go to a human world pier and try to attract the local stray cats with his tail. He’ll leave them little gifts so now all the local cats come to the docks at a certain time to wait for him. He really wants to have a cat but sadly it’s a love that’s not meant to be, they are from two different worlds.

Life with you

He’ll enjoy taking you on expeditions. Showing you beautiful sunken landscapes very few eyes have seen before. He loves seeing your reactions to sights.

He enjoys learning your hobbies and trying them out with you. He’ll go out of his way to provide an accurate experience to what you're used to since he enjoys learning and experiencing new things, especially now that you're here.

He's another one that loves to rub his smell all over you. He’s just as bad as Mammon, his smell is all over every part he can get to and stinks of “back off, don’t touch” causing others to give you a wide berth.

He’s going to hang off of you every morning. If you're larger than him he shoves his face into your chest and tries to go back to sleep. He looks so different with his sleeping face, he looks peaceful in your arms. But if you're smaller he’ll flop onto you and try to use you as a pillow. He’s surprisingly warm and his underside isn’t as spiny and sharp.

He’ll want to introduce you to his octopi friends. Each one is named after a different sea or famous author. If you agree he’ll be delighted to take you there and let you play with them. Though he might get a bit jealous if you get along with them a bit too much. He won’t show his jealousy though.

Asmodeus

Appearance

He’s the most serine and delicate looking of all his brothers. His thin body has a bright cherry blossom pink tail and has long silky looking fins. His bright scales sparkle and shimmer and have a pearlescence to them. He has perfectly pure white scales patches on his tail as well giving a koi pattern.

He resembles a butterfly koi but with longer and frankly impractical looking fins. They flow around him weightless and they look like silk in the wind around him. Even his dorsal fin is long and flowing.

He doesn’t have any scales on his face and he looks perfectly human from the waist up. His skin has an angelic like glow and shimmers in the sun. He has a few freckles on his face, chest and elbows.

He has small pearly white teeth just like a human would, he’s very keen on keeping them perfectly white, just like his white scales, but his canines can extend like a cat flexing their claws.

Daily life

He wakes up to his internal alarm clock, which is scarily accurate. Bright eyed and bushy tailed from the moment his eyes open. Swimming around and preparing himself for another day, brushing his tail, combing his hair, and cleaning his teeth, all while chatting to whoever will listen.

He is a highly requested entertainer for festivals and celebrations. He’s invited to grand openings, large festivals, and even private birthdays to those who pay him well enough. His dances and singing is the best among his kind and can easily enrapture sailors let alone his own kind. His voice mixed with the way his fins trail behind him like long fans is an easy way to get hypnotized.

When he’s not booked for a celebration he’s helping Diavolo keep humans away from their city. He uses his voice to entrance anyone he deems a threat and can make them turn and forget why they were out here and what they saw. He doesn’t get into any of the violent stuff. That’s not his style.

If he’s not at home, he is always with someone. He’s like a fairytale princess with a crowd behind him, be they other mers or fish schooling around him. He always has a smile on his face and he’s not very quiet about how much he enjoys attracting an adoring crowd. At home he enjoys a nice relaxing self care session.

When he’s angry his canines poke out he doesn’t notice this habit of his, but it's usually because he’s extremely angry at the time and holds himself back.

He doesn't bother with patrolling and he’s not territorial in the slightest. He’s a lover not a fighter so his big brothers can handle any scary monster.

Life with you

He’s bringing you to all kinds of festivals and parties as his +1 every time. You’ll be able to experience all the wonders Diavolo’s kingdom has to give and he’s extremely happy to be there with you every single time.

He’ll use his charm to get you whatever you want. Did you want that cute seashell necklace? Or that shark tooth bracelet? He’ll approach the store owner, shake his tail and flirt a bit and it’s his now. Which he immediately hands to you with a huge grin on his face, telling you how well it suits you and how you make that item look even better.

He’s always trying to groom you in any sort of manner. Rubbing your scalp and smoothing your hair with his finger. Trying to rub thick creams into your skin, or rubbing pigment onto your nails to paint them. You're the only one he’ll do this for.

He needs to hold your hand at least 3 times a day and needs a kiss before he goes to sleep and he’ll break into your room if he doesn’t get them all. He’ll act all innocent but he knows exactly what he’s doing. He just likes being a brat so he can cuddle and love you.

He also gets upset if you smell like someone else so he randomly jumps you and cuddles you in his arms rubbing his cheek against yours and rubbing you with his tail and brushing all of his fins against you. If you check you can see his fangs sticking out when he’s jealous.

If you’re ever feeling down he’ll sing for you. Dance with you, twirling you around as if he’s the moon and you're the earth itself. He gets lost in the dance and by the time you're done you're both embracing and laughing.

Beelzebub and Belphegor

Appearance

While being twins they couldn’t be more polar opposites. Beelzebub has radiant skin that seems to glow even in the darker parts of the ocean and a long sunset orange tail full of powerful muscles and reaches the longest out of the brothers. His tail is smooth and has a cycloid scale pattern. Belphegor has the shark-like appearance some of his other brothers have. Counter shaded skin, flatter nose. But he seems to absorb the light around him making everything seem much darker than they really are. His tail is medium size and is pretty thin. His tail is a deep eggplant purple with black spots.

Both of them have matching fin shapes, their caudal fin being shaped like a swordtail guppy and the rest of their fins are wide and shaped like fans. Belphegor's fins are mostly black but with the same eggplant purple speckled in. Beelzebub’s are the same sunset orange.

Beelzebub’s face is free of scales but on the sides of his cheeks and around his jawline and down to his shoulders scales are clustered around. They are thick hardy scales making his neck his strongest area besides his tail, but he has a scar just under his chin.

Belphegor has a freckle-like pattern of small scales they scattered all around his face only one or two at a time. They’re much smaller than the ones on his tail.

Belphegor has extremely sharp teeth and while they’re small they’re serrated. Beelzebub has mostly human teeth, though his canines are much bigger and wider, he’s able to crush stones with those teeth.

Daily life

These two have been inseparable since they were young and it's a trend that is clearly there to stay. They may have a different schedule but when they go to rest they rest and sleep in the same nest.

Beelzebub helps teach the younger mers to fight. He’s been permitted to teach not only the royal guard but other everyday mers. He’s a proud teacher and he’s always trying to come up with ways to help each student of his even on an individual level, but that’s when he’s not eating.

He’s also the kingdom's best hunter, and a small team is sent out with him every once in a while to hunt down any monsters that come too close to their kingdom. Beelzebub ends up eating the thing before they get back though. The bigger and more ferocious they are, the better they taste. That’s what he says at least.

Belphegor is the kingdom's most talented astrologist. Unlike his twin brother though, he doesn’t put his skills to much use. He’ll help, maybe, if he’s not tired or if he’s in a good mood, but those chances are slim to none. Instead he’s actually a doctor.

He’ll laze around in his office and sleep on the table, but when a patient comes in he’s somehow able to look over them once and tell what’s wrong with them. Even his brother’s are confused how he can just wake up, take one look at someone and perfectly diagnose them.

He also seems to nurse others on an auto pilot. He barely has his eyes open and is able to patch up any wound he can find. Because of his talent yet lack of effort he has earned some ire from his peers. He doesn’t care though as long as he can keep sleeping on the job.

Many other Mer’s have approached him in hopes to become his apprentice but he’s ignored every single one. He’s too lazy to even try. Which many people think is selfish since he’s so skilled. Though he doesn’t care what they say.

Life with you

You will always find them not too far from you. Once they grew attached to you they began not moving too far from you. Sometimes they even drag you along with them so you can be near them. Belphegor is guilty of dragging you to his workplace more than Beelzebub, sometimes trying to trick you into keeping everyone busy so he can nap.

Beelzebub just brings you so he can keep an eye on you and give you hugs when he’s feeling a bit stressed. You can tell when he’s getting stressed because the longer part of his tail fin flicks back and forth. If you end up hugging him right when he starts he’ll end up holding you until you ask him to let you go. It always makes him smile if you do that.

They are both picky about having you sleep in their nest. Belphegor will complain and try to guilt you into their nest if you try to sleep anywhere else and Beelzebub will give you puppy dog eyes. They won’t stop until you agree, and they both coil around you when sleeping.

Beelzebub is very protective of you since he knows how monstrous things can be outside the kingdom so whenever he gets worried about you he pulls you by the hips closer to him. Belphegor simply just gets jealous of others talking to you and will rest his chin on your shoulder and stare at whoever is talking to you.

If you let him, Beelzebub will groom you. Brushing your hair is a favorite of his. He likes playing with it. If you were to return the favor by polishing his scales or even playing with his hair too he gets left in a great mood for the rest of the day. The smile he gets never leaves his face.

Belphegor when he’s feeling up to it will show you the stars at night. He’ll let you float on him or next to him and gaze at the bright night sky, untouched by light pollution or blocked by trees. Just the sounds of the open ocean and the two of you. Sometimes he’ll end up like an otter and fall asleep while holding your hand so you don’t float away.

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me monster headcanons #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #satan x reader #asmodeus x reader #beelzebub x reader #belphegor x reader

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emmyhem · 3 years

Text

always (l.r.h) part two

a/n: hi everybody! here is always part two, this is actually one of my favorite writings and one that I was looking forward to writing and posting a lot. it’s another angsty piece but with a sappy happy ending :) also it’s unedited but what else is new. i’ll probably post again tomorrow either a bestfriend!calum piece or a roomate!luke piece that are titled in my masterlist. i hope everyone enjoys and is having a wonderful day. i definitely am after that livestream today. (i would say that i didn’t cry because of how good and happy they all looked but that would be a lie) anyway i hope you enjoy and as always my messages are always open to chat or whatever and feedback and comments are always appreciated. thank you - emmy <33

pairing: luke hemmings x fem!reader

summary: it’s time for you decide whether or not luke’s mistake is worth losing the love of your life.

warning(s): mentions of alcohol, cursing, angst (but with a happy ending), self doubt, insecurity, mention of throwing up

word count: 2.9k

pt. 1

The longer you watched the window the more you were convinced mother nature was taunting you. The rain droplets that cascaded down the glass mirroring the tears that hadn’t stopped falling since you left Luke speechless in the driveway. It had to be for your benefit, I mean it was Los Angeles. California was in a drought for god’s sake.

Despite the fact that nature was mocking you, you couldn’t dare pull your eyes away. The alternative was to face the endless voicemails waiting for you on your phone that glowed dimly beside you. You knew you would have to hear them eventually but right now you knew that even a breath, let alone full sentences from Luke would break you in every sense of the word. You feared the sound almost as much as the content behind it.

You weren’t ready to be okay, you needed to wallow in your pain for a bit longer. As bad as that sounds you knew it was the only way you could convince yourself to let him back in, to forgive him. It was also the only way you could forgive yourself. Your body needed to feel how tortured you were without him, how much you needed his affection, his love, and him. Not his money.

Part of you knew deep down that Luke didn’t mean what he said, the part that awakened the butterflies that had taken permanent residence in your stomach since he had entered your life. The part that caused all your senses to align when Luke kissed you the night you finally understood what it meant to love someone with everything you have. The same part that was clawing at your heart right now as your mind replayed the look of pure devastation that was painted on Luke’s pretty features as you drove away from him. That part was itching for you to run to him, to cuddle into his embrace and say “I forgive you. I’ll never leave you again. Love me?”

But, it was the other part of you that was causing the problems right now, the part that snuck up on you each time you felt secure in yourself and tore it all down in seconds. The part that told you there was no way you were good enough for your boyfriend when you stared at your reflection in the mirror for even a second too long. The part that Luke was typically the one to silence when it overwhelmed you in a crowded room, with just a tender kiss to the forehead, or squeeze of your hand. The same part that constantly craved for Luke to be proud of you the way you were of him in anything he decided to pursue. That part was completely shattered last week when, whether intentionally or not he showed you that not only was he not proud, but also felt burdened by your lack of brilliance.

“Y/n,” your friend called, breaking you from your self-loathing thoughts as she approached your brittle body, enveloped in every single fuzzy blanket you could get your hands on.

“Hi.” you croaked, pulling your stinging eyes from where they had settled on a particularly large rain droplet that had stolen your interest as you wondered how much more water it could withstand before it burst from its flawless embodiment and shattered to the sill below. You wondered the same about Luke, how much more of your insecurity and emotional baggage would it take for him to burst. How much more of your mediocrity could he compensate for before you began to strip him of his excellence?

“Have you talked to him yet?” she inquired, eyes going soft as she looked at you with sympathy.

“No.” you groaned, pulling yourself up. “Do I have to?”

She shook her head, dismissing you. “You know that you’re welcome here as long as you want, but anyone could tell that you’re completely miserable without him, even if he is being an epic prick.”

You sniffled and wrapped your arms around your best friend.

“Am I an idiot for wanting to forgive him?” you spoke into her hair.

She returned the embrace and settled next to you in the bed, “I think if he really is sorry then you’re incredibly strong for it. And you’re never an idiot, that would be your blonde haired beau.”

You laughed softly at her innocent dig, the giggle catching slightly in your throat as it had only been releasing pathetic pleas, and broken sobs for the past few days.

Y/f/n handed you your phone, the photo of Luke and Petunia sitting by the pool being almost completely covered by all the missed call notifications that had taken over your lock screen.

“I think you should at least hear what he has to say babe, for your sake if not for his.”

You let out a heavy sigh and accepted the phone, wrapping your favorite blanket around your shoulders and dragging your feet to the bathroom for some privacy.

You took a seat in the empty bathtub throwing the blanket across your body. You reasoned it was the perfect place to listen to the messages because as soon as Luke’s voice flooded the room you would be completely submerged in him and you didn’t trust your legs to hold you up.

You clicked the most recent voicemail, time stamped from 1:28 am last night. As you selected the speaker option you allowed your eyes to fall closed and without noticing or trying you held your breath.

“Y/n,”

Only one word in you could immediately tell two things without a trace of doubt. One, he’d been crying, and two he was drunk. If you had to guess you would say tequila, it had always been his favorite and he had a bad habit of nursing his wounds in the liquor cabinet. It shattered your heart to think of him broken, and vulnerable and as he continued to speak you found yourself wrapping your arms around your body for comfort.

“I miss you and I’m sorry. I-” his voice cut off as a sob played through your phone. You released a matching one while squeezing your eyes tighter, a shaky hand bringing your phone closer as if it would bring him as well.

As he continued, your mind began to paint a vivid picture. You saw him sitting on the kitchen floor, an old ratty sweatshirt struggling to keep him warm, damp tear stains spoiling the sleeves. There was a half empty bottle to his side and the tip of his nose was red as it peeked out from the hood. You shook your head in an attempt to rid yourself of the image that felt like your personal nightmare.

“I-I can’t live without you, really I don’t think I can. I need you and I love you. I love you so much. Just please come home to me, please baby.” he spoke through gasps of breath that caused worry to spread across your body.

You paused the message as a dull ache creeped up from the bottom of your stomach and to your throat which was tightening by the second. You tossed your phone onto the blanket which you had kicked off as your body heated up, and sprung out of the tub landing firmly in front of the toilet. Gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail in your hand you hunched over and retched into the bowl. Y/f/n burst through the door as you gagged and coughed repeatedly, she took your hair from you and rubbed soothing circles on your back as you tried to focus your breathing through your nose. This wasn’t the first time you had cried yourself into throwing up during your stay so she knew what to do to calm you down and settle your stomach.

As you finished the glass of water she had poured from the sink while you brushed your teeth she held your car keys out to you.

“Please go see him. I can’t see you like this anymore.”

You nodded accepting the keys reluctantly and made your way to your car.

Once outside you noted that the rain had started coming down harder, it seemed fitting as your situation reached its climax. By the time you got into the car your hair was wet and stringy, dripping onto Luke’s shirt that you had been wearing since the night you left. You quickly tied it back and drove away, hoping the sound of the rain could calm your nerves before you got back to your house.

When you got there the sun was setting and the rain was still falling steadily, you grabbed a jacket from the back seat and held it over your head as you ran to the house. The jacket didn’t give you much protection from the water and you were soaked by the time you reached the door. Taking one big breath, in through your nose, and out from your mouth as you had been repeating the whole ride there, you raised your quivering hand and knocked three times.

Expecting it to take a few minutes for him to reach the door you were shocked when it swung open in just a few seconds. Your heart sunk as you took in Luke’s appearance, although you were sure you looked just as bad if not worse. Deep dark circles sat beneath his bloodshot eyes, his stubble had grown in a bit longer than he typically liked it and his lips were chapped and bitten down. Guilt panged in your chest, how awful of a girlfriend were you to let it get to this point? The thought made you question if he would even want you here.

Apparently the time apart had completely fucked with your ability to read Luke’s face because even frozen in shock, his eyes began to fade into that special soft color of blue they only got to around you. He felt as if a giant weight had been lifted from his chest and just as it had been since the moment you left the only word running through his head was “y/n.”

He didn’t see your messy, wet hair or the ratty tshirt that swallowed your figure. He didn’t see your eyes puffy from crying or your bitten down nails that you were bringing back up to your mouth in that moment as your nerves got the best of you. All he saw was y/n. His y/n. You came home to him and as far as he was concerned you looked like an angel. Warm, sweet, and perfect. So fucking perfect.

Your eyes ran over his face anxiously, waiting for him to say something, or invite you in, or even slam the door in your face. Anything. After a minute of silence you gathered up the courage to speak first.

“Sorry I never called you bac-'' your words were knocked from your mouth when Luke took a step forward and wrapped you up into the tightest hug you’d ever experienced. Your limbs fit together perfectly, and the second your bodies met you felt recharged, as if everything was in place once again. And Luke felt like for the first time in a week he could breathe.

“I don’t deserve you.” he sighed as you pressed your nose into his chest deeply breathing in the smell you could only describe as home. “Thank you for coming back to me, I don’t work without you.”

From your position in his arms you could see the mess splayed on the floor behind him. It was just as you had pictured it earlier, a thin blanket and scratchy throw pillow were scattered on the floor in front of the sink, a bottle lying on it’s side just next to them. Guilt inched up your spine when your eyes made contact with a framed picture of the two of you on top of the blanket.

“I’m sorry.” you sobbed into his chest, your hands clawing at the material of his sweatshirt.

He pulled back quickly, keeping his hands on either sides of your waist, “No baby, why’re you sorry. This is all my fault, I was awful. You...you’re perfect.” he pressed as you shook your head in distress, unable to stop your tears.

“N-no I stayed away for so long, even when I knew I wa-wanted to forgive you. I was embarrassed and...and selfish.” you struggled to speak over your tears while Luke looked down at you sad and confused.

“What’re you talking about, love?”

You sniffed and dropped your hands from Luke’s chest, “I j-just wanted you to be proud of me.” the end of your sentence was nearly lost in your sobs but Luke understood. And in that moment he regretted going into music instead of engineering, or science, or whatever would’ve helped him to invent a time machine so he could go back and beat the shit out of whoever or whatever had possessed him last week.

His hands moved to cup your cheeks, his thumb tracing lightly over your bottom lip.

“I am proud of you baby.”

He leaned in slowly, and hesitantly, almost as if he was testing the waters, like this was new. As if he hadn’t kissed you thousands of times before. You looked up at him through your lashes littered with unshed tears and nodded your head slowly. He still had so much left to say, you still had so much left to say but you both had been needing this for as long as you’d lost it. He pressed his lips to yours gently, afraid that even one wrong move and you would decide that you had made the wrong choice in coming back. He wouldn’t survive that, he couldn’t lose you twice.

As he went to pull away you snaked a hand around the back of his neck pulling him back towards you. This time when your lips collided his body sagged into it, both arms wrapping around your back and lifting you up to the tips of your toes. Your eyes drifted shut and you reveled in the feeling of him pressed up against you like this. When the kiss broke you kept your faces close enough that your noses were touching, and opened your eyes to see Luke’s still closed, his eyebrows furrowed as he pressed his forehead to you.

“You’re what I’m most proud of.” he exhaled, his eyelids still shut lightly. “My greatest achievement is getting you to love me and I can’t believe I almost blew it.”

You brought a hand to his face and stroked his cheek lightly, the feeling of his overgrown stubble foreign to your fingers.

“It would take a lot more to get rid of me.” you assured. “I think m’too in love with you.”

He opened his eyes, locking them with your own, and spoke firmly but with a softness that was and would always be reserved for only you.

“I want to make it clear that you do not in any way leech.” he dragged the last word out, laced in disgust as if it were hard for him to say. “I lucked out. I actually just seem to keep lucking out, my job, my life, and you.” He placed a hand across your jaw and tilted your chin up before continuing. “I completely lucked out with you. I have lots of money, more than I need actually and it makes me feel fucking incredible that I can take care of you. That’s all I wanna do for the rest of my life.”

Your mouth broke into a smile hearing him verbally commit to a lifetime with you.

“But, with that being said I know you don’t need me-”

“I do need you.” you interrupted.

Luke threw his head back at your words, a toothy grin overtaking his face before he pressed a chaste peck to your forehead.

“Y’know what? You’re too fucking cute. I meant financially baby, m’trying to apologize here.”

You nodded for him to continue, struggling to contain your own beaming smile.

“Anything you decide to do occupationally or otherwise could never, ever let me down. You’re physically incapable of it. I’d be a lucky guy if you let me stick around for it all and I promise to never forget that again. I’m sorry I did in the first place.” he took a deep breath before finishing his rant. “M’only able to give you the world if you let me. Let me?”

You answered his question by attaching your lips once again, desire and need radiating off of the place where your lips met. As your taste buds reacquainted themselves with Luke’s mouth you wondered how you had gone even a day without him.

Luke felt like he was flying and he couldn’t wrap his head around how anyone in the world could live without, seeing you, knowing you, and kissing you. He also knew that he would do anything to ensure that he never had to go a day without you for the rest of his life.

“How long does it take to get an engagement ring sized?” he wondered to himself.

If he could’ve read your mind he would’ve seen white gowns, tiered cakes, and little blue eyed, curly haired monsters running amuck.

“I want everything with you, the whole world.” you affirmed when you pulled apart for air.

“Yea?” he responded.

You hummed against his lips, “Always.”

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yui-kuromori · 3 years

Text

Mafia AU aesthetics

Based on this AU I wrote.

Because Hatter is extra like that, he likes to keep a very specific wonderland aesthetic for his group, and works hard to keep it while fitting their own personal tastes.

Danma Takeru – Mad Hatter - Hatter goes all out. He has this colorful, patchwork trench coat he wears all the time and multiple color lenses sunglasses he changes every day. From time to time he’ll wear an actual top hat. He sometimes uses temporary hair dye to get some colorful streaks. When he does have to wear formal clothing, it’s a brightly colored suit. The only other outfit he owns are psychedelic boxers and silk robes. It’s not unusual to see him walking around half naked in the gang’s hideout. He has typical yakuza tattoos mixed with bright, watercolor abstract tattoos from his arms, to his shoulders to his chest. Every member has a specific piece of jewelry and his is his “boss” ring.

Aguni Morizono – Bandersnatch - Listen. Aguni doesn’t like to dress up. He owns five black tank tops he wears in rotation, no matter the weather. He does have the Bandersnatch tattooed on his left shoulder blade. He will sometimes wear fuzzy socks that imitate the beast’s pattern. He also has an apron with it printed on him, that has mysterious stains that no one has the guts to question. His custom piece of jewelry his a thin chain with a claw charm that he wears under his shirt.

Chishiya Shuntaro – Cheshire - Chishiya is surprisingly open to Hatter’s antics. Because his work is mostly going undercover, he can’t have anything that’s too flashy. He has Cheshire Cat smiles embroidered on the edges of all his hoodies. He has very minimal, single line tattoos behind his ears, and Niragi’s been talking him into getting his neck covered. I feel like he’d have custom stamped sneakers and a cat eared hoodie. Smudgy eyeliner, always. His jewelry is a simple hoop earring with a smile engraved on it.

Kuina Hikari – Caterpillar or Absolem - Kuina is a fashion queen. She takes one look at the movie’s caterpillar and goes with the blue color pallet for most of her outfits. Butterflies, butterflies everywhere, in her tops, in her bras, even in her makeup, with butterfly shaped glitter around her eyes. She has a puffy jacket that imitates the caterpillar’s body. She has butterflies tattooed on her upper arm and shoulder and the trans flag on her ankle. Her piece of jewelry is a cocoon shaped charm that she hangs on her hair.

Niragi Suguru – March Hare - This man’s fashion sense is a mess, crazy shirts, colors and tight pants. His guns are all engraved with hares and hare ears. He has this blood red coat inspired by the animated movie that Hatter gave him. He has patchwork tattoos all over his body. His piece of jewelry is surprisingly simple, his tongue piercing that Aguni did when he first joined the gang. That’s why he’s always so proud to show it.

Samura Takatora (Last Boss) – Jabberwocky - Scales, scales everywhere. On the hilt of his sword, on the leather of his vest, on the soles of his shoes. His tattoos are very obvious, so when he’s on civilian duty, he actually has to cover them up with makeup. He looks so different that he can easily slip by police. His piece of jewelry is a dragon shaped ear cuff.

Ann Rizuna – White Queen - Pristine white suits and shirts and blood red lips. Her iconic white lab coat gave her her codename. Her sunglasses have little crowns on the frames. She has the human skeleton tattooed from her shoulders, across her chest and stomach to her hips. Her scalpels and tools are all engraved with icons representing the other members and she’s named them after them (a small sharp one named Arisu, a loud bone saw named Last boss). Her piece of jewelry is actually her sunglasses, that are way more expensive than anyone would guess.

Kodai Tatta – Dormouse or Arganaz - His cap has little a little mouse embroidered on the flap and he’ll often wear a loose purple bow tie around his neck. He has mouse keychains and teacups painted on his sneakers and coats. He wears a lot of jeans and T-shirts and he lets Hatter and Arisu paint whatever they want on them. He has a needle thin small knife he barely uses, that is covered in Ann’s special brand of poison. His tattoos are small and scattered. Spirited away smooth spirits on his wrist, starts behind his ears. His piece of jewelry is a small Dormouse ring he wears on his pinky finger.

Usagi Yuzuha – White Rabbit - She has rabbits everywhere! Surprisingly cutesy stuff too! On her peach hoodie, on her tank tops and gym shorts. She has a soft pink bunny stamped baseball bat that definitely became red once or twice. Hatter tried to get her to wear bunny ears, but failed after one glare from her. Kuina does her nails every week, and it’s their cute little moment. She gets sparkly sailor moon inspired stuff. She has cherry blossoms tattooed on her back and a letter from her father on her forearm. She also has a quote from Alice in Wonderland on her wrist that matches Arisu’s. Her piece of jewelry are customized brass knuckles Aguni got her and a pocket watch from hatter.

Arisu Ryohei - Alice - Pastel blues, white and red. A lot of trump card inspired accessories. He wears a lot of T-shirts and he has graphic stamps for every character from the books. His computer has Alice’s silhouette on the back of it. He’s got a pastel blue hoodie that he may have or may have not stolen from Chishiya. He has flowers tattooed covering up his top surgery scars, a minimal homage to “Pong” (first videogame ever) in one ankle, and a small wolf on the other (Shibuki, Karube and Chouta all have sheep. It’s an inside joke no one ever figured out), and an Alice in wonderland quote that matches Usagi’s. His piece of jewelry is a bracelet with the trump suits charms.

Extra: sometimes, when he’s working, he’ll get into the zone and not notice what’s around him, and Kuina will jokingly put Usagi’s bunny ears on him. He’ll just spend hours working and walking around with them on, not understanding the weird looks he’s getting.

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keilemlucent · 4 years

Text

tiles & released tension

(r18+)

gang orca | sakamata kugo x reader

continuation of this fic

word count: 2.2k

the cycle of lust

warnings: fem reader, monsterfucking, weird tongue, weird dicks, marking, mouthfucking, heat cycles,

commission for @baroque-baby!!! thank u so much!!!!!!! 💗💗💗

a/n: wow here it is!! the second of the two comms :’’^) enjoy some more... Monster fucking esque stuff AND heat cycles!!!! enjoy y’all :’’^)

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Despite how physically demanding the overall experience of Kugo’s rut was, you were well taken care of. Beyond that, even. He spared no expense, forgot no detail, and left no need or want unattended.

He was a dutiful lover despite his carnal hunger.

...

You vaguely knew when it was day and night. Your temporary home had large, arching windows and skylights that let sunbeams in to bend against the rippling pool. You knew when it was bright outside, though the exact time of day didn’t seem to matter much to Kugo or you.

That ‘morning’ (whenever you awoke, it was light outside), you’d woken up in the pool, tucked against Kugo’s chest in the lapping, gentle current of the water. It was always a bit scary, waking up being naked and half-submerged.

Yet, you were always mentally-reminded that no harm would come to you. Drowning? Absolutely not. Kugo was literally holding you. If any other danger entered a twenty-meter vicinity, you were sure Kugo would be ready to crush the threat instantly.

But, there were no threats. A peaceful courtyard that let in nice light during the evening with lots of pretty flowers and landscaping.

In some of your more fucked out and fucked up moments, arms braced against the wet tile as Kugo reamed you for the umpteenth time, you found yourself dazing off at the reflections and colors as you blinked back overstimulated tears.

Yet, that morning, you’d woken up without a writhing cock in you. Though it was close by and ever-hard, just as always.

“Mornin’,” You yawned, stretching to pop a kiss onto Kugo’s cheek. His chest rumbled out a sound too low for you to hear, a new, cetacean-based feature he’d developed over his rut. “Sleep well?”

“Very.”

Considered how much cum he spilled into you and the surrounding pool the night prior, he had to be exhausted, right?

To some extent.

He was a pro hero, with the stamina to match. Not to mention most of your days were spent in the pool of perfectly treated and temperate water, allowing Kugo to be in his most optimal state whether he was fighting villains or fucking your brain out.

You weren’t complaining.

Once again, dutiful.

Kugo adjusted you as he needed, a low growl pitching from his throat.

You ended up on your knees, skin scraping the tiles on the submerged bench below. It was a favored position, allowing the upper half of your body to be up and out of the water. Though you had, several times, gotten a mouthful or noseful of water due to Kugo breeding you (so fucking well) in the pool, it wasn’t preferred.

(Most of the time.)

Kugo rumbled as he floated in the water behind you, thickly-taloned hands coming to rest on your hips under the water, “You’re so beautiful in the mornings, you have no idea.”

He’d been waxing more since all of this started. In the moments he wasn’t insatiably worked up by his primal state, he was lavishing you in compliments and kindness as you’d never seen.

Kugo fished around in a nearby float basket, pulling away with a fancily crafted bottle of lube. It was a light lavender, oil-based, and heavenly smelling as he poured a bit of it on his hand.

Considering how long and sharp his nails had become, it was far too dangerous for him to prepare you like he once did.

Good thing his cock was tapered.

You could feel the bump of it against your ass, almost slivering against your hot skin under the water. Kugo slicked it down with the lube as he grabbed another item from the basket— a small bullet vibrator, waterproof and strong.

You beamed as he laid it on the pool deck by your arms.

“Am I allowed to use that?” You asked, keeping your voice teasing and sweet, still scratchy from sleep.

Kugo grunted another primal noise.

Consider it’d been several hours since he’d had his fill of you, he was bound to be insatiable. He tended to get a bit more... animalistic when he got so needy for you.

Social conventions had been mostly negated during the weeks of Kugo’s rut, it was a necessity. Not to mention that they were difficult to even think about with the distractions at your disposal.

The tip of Kugo’s cock, slick and squirming, teased as your entrance as he settled behind you, towering over your bent frame. The water sloshed around both of you, though neither of you minded.

You were far more focused on the way the appendage was teasing from your clit to your leak cunt without rest.

Laying your head on your arms, you arched your back at an even harsher angle, just barely grinding against Kugo as he prepared you as much as his cock would allow.

(It wasn’t entirely necessary considered how often he’d been stuffing you full— your cunt was practically shaped to him by that point.)

His chest bore down on your back, heat radiating off of him as he pressed you into the tiles and pool wall. You swallowed as his hand grabbed around your throat and jaw, pulling your head to the side so his long, (also) tapered tongue could lave along your shoulders.

“You always taste so good in the mornings,” Kugo spoke low and rolling. You squeezed your eyes shut, rolling your hips back to bump against his own.

As much as he fluffed you up verbally, you could feel how he was holding himself back from wrecking you.

His talons bit into the meat of your hips, his tongue licked its way to your ear, gooey saliva mixing with the water and sweat against your skin. His deep breaths, coming harsher each minute, made his chest bear down on your own, flattening you to the til, though not fully squishing you.

“Kugo,” You spoke in a singsong voice, grabbing the vibrator and flicking it on. “Why don’t you fuck me like you mean it instead of being polite? I thought we were past formalities.”

He went still, aside from the twirl of his thin cockhead at your entrance.

“I mean,” You were pressing your luck, but that was part of the fun. “I know you want to breed me so well that I leak all day, so why not get to it?”

You hummed, just for a moment, before Kugo was pressing you down, hard, squeezing the air out of your lungs in the best possible way.

“Is that really what you want?” Kugo growled, the sound shaking in several different pitches as he fucked into your cunt in one clean stroke.

You choked on your breath, scrambling against the wet tile as the vibrator slipped out of reach into the water.

Taking him at full length in one go wasn’t impossible, but the stretch of it all at once ached. His cock pressed and writhed in your cunt as he held his hips steady, shaking slightly.

You took a shuddering breath as his fat tongue rolled over your shoulders.

“How badly do you want to be ruined?”

If you could’ve melted into the water of the pool, you would’ve.

Part of you wanted to give one last fiery retort, but you were far too mushy to muster it up as Keigo thrust fully once more. He nearly bottoms out, you figure, considering the way his cock twists against your inside, pressing at your knot of nerves.

You moaned, lips parting and falling open.

Kugo greedily took the opportunity to further crane your neck, his thick tongue dipping into your mouth, snaking along the backs of your teeth.

You were caught up in it all, the sensations seemingly so fresh after sleep. Each new slam of Kugo’s hips, the taste of him filling your mouth, and the sounds of slapping water all felt magnified.

Whining, you bucked back into his thrusts, feeling the slow expansion of his cock inside you as Kugo grew ever closer.

His throaty laugh vibrated into your own mouth, the sound almost too loud for you to fully catch as your bones rang in your flesh with the tone He took your shock to push his tongue further, deeper into your mouth, licking at the back your tongue and molars.

It was almost too much, as oxygen became a luxury.

Except, Kugo grounded you easily, the hand on your hips and the pressure of his body above yours tethering you to reality as he fucked you in earnest.

Each slap of his body against your own ignited a new wave lust in your, slick spilling down your inner thighs and into the water. Your clit ached, helplessly ignored under the pseudo-surf. You didn’t have the mind in your to try and clamor for the lost vibrator, your mind swimming far too deep to think that far.

Instead, your ground back into Kugo all your could, your noises and moans dampened by the tongue throat-fucking you.

He didn’t seem to mind at all.

You could feel yourself getting fuller and fuller, as impossible as it seemed. Kugo’s cock expanded as it neared climax, pressing at your walls before painting them white and sticky.

The grip on your jaw released, his tongue recoiling from your mouth as his head fell against your shoulder.

“How is this for ‘breeding’ you?” Kugo knew your asked, but asked anyway, chuckling at the way you desperately dripped for more of him.

You nodded, “Very, good. Very—”

Kugo’s pace became rougher.

His hand slipped under your, into the water to rub the meat of his palm into your clit in small, insistent circles. The nearby scrap of his claws only served to make you twitch and want more.

“P-Please, more!” You cried out, laying your head onto the tile as his thrusts got rougher, his teeth scraping and sucking at your neck, and his tongue soaking your skin—

And with a few final pressed of Kugo’s hand and you were coming undone for him in time with him absolutely filling you up.

It was filthy in the best possible way.

You sputtered out profanities as you came, Kugo’s hot seed spilling into you in thick, creamy spurts. The heat of it was almost scalding against the temperature of the bathwater.

Kugo kept a firm grip on you, despite the way how his skin had become so slick, fucking you through his long orgasm. It was something to do with his rut, but Kugo tended to spill into you not for seconds, but rather minutes.

It gave you time to come down as his fattened cock filled you.

You went pliant against the pool deck as another spurt of cum filled your core. Kugo was still in the throes of it, grunting every few moments and grinding into your insides. You weakly pressed back, shaking with your own breath.

Kugo’s hand pressed into your stomach, feeling the bulge of his own cock and cum filling you. The touch only strengthened your own sensations, the mix of it, and your full womb causing your eyes to roll back in your skull.

And then, it all slowed.

You were both still for a moment, the remnants of your movement told in the slosh of the pool and its harsh ripples.

Kugo gently turned your face to his, smoothing back some of your hair and dropping a few deliberate kisses against your cheeks, “Are you alright?”

You nodded, blissed-out and fucked out, “Very alright.”

It was all the response you could manage.

You couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed as Kugo pulled out of you, an odd rush of water and fertile nut mixing below you. The absence of the stretch of his cock left you wanting.

But, Kugo was a dutiful mate, even in this state.

He carefully lifted you in his arms, carrying you out from the breeding pool to a nearby room.

It was one of the rooms you slept in, that of a handful of others. This one had a rounded ceiling and high windows, cream-colored walls and a large, water-proofed lounging bed.

Kugo gently set you down on it, grabbing a blanket-sized towel and wrapping you in it as fully as he could.

He tended to focus on your physical needs after fucking, especially when you two had been doing it so much. You’d never complain about how there was almost always a perfectly chilled water bottle in your hand and a bottle of massage oil at the ready.

Still, you wanted him—

That was why you were there, after all.

Kugo had stepped out, undoubtedly gathering up the supplies to tend to your body as he knew you needed.

You flickered your gaze to a nearby mirror, taking in your own visage.

Clearly, you’d been through the wringer. Dark circles punched under your eyes, your skin pruned from so long in the sweet-smelling water, and a smattering of rakes from Kugo’s teeth laid across your shoulders.

You looked like hell.

...

You smiled.

Kugo walked back in a moment later, just as you were standing up, wobbling on your jellied legs.

He was quick to wash to you, pulling you up against his slick body (as his cock began to re-harden again), “Sit down, love, please. I can get you anything you need.”

“You can,” You beamed up at him, craning on your tiptoes and pulling him down by his neck. “And guess what I need?”

He rumbled out a laugh, undoubtedly knowing where your words were going based on your suddenly tender affections, “And what's that?”

“You.”

#gang orca x reader #gang orca #sakamata kugo #sakamata kugo x reader #salem writes #feast monster fuckers #<3333

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just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi · 3 years

Text

Pickett

*bangs spoon on pot* NEW OC NEW OC i can't be tamed

CW: Magical whumpee, branding/scarification, burning, scalding metal, Whumper as caretaker, ... nice? whumper, implied nudity for a second, restraints.

(Pickett can transform into a marten but will never be whumped as an animal.)

The magician smiled as he walked through the market, taking in the sights of the bustling coastside Town. There were stands and carts, open shops and peddlers selling their wares. He could see the docks from the stone streets, could smell the foul salt in the air.

This was the last stop before the wild, before the world opened to those brave - or stupid - enough to explore it. It was a place of last chances, of hastily made decisions and half-thought through plans. Just like all the others, he was there to make his name.

One such salesman waved him over, encouraging him to spend his coins for the compasses and maps that could guide him to riches and fame. He waved him off, continuing on his walk. A girl offered him a handheld loaf of fresh bread, but he waved that off as well. The little creature sitting on his shoulder lifted it’s head to see, slowly following the girl with it’s blue eyes as the Magician kept walking. He smiled and scratched under its chin, more than happy to stop at another stand and buy the little furry thing some fruit as a treat.

The moment the door was closed and bolted behind them, the creature jumped down from its perch around the man’s shoulders to the floor. He turned to busy himself with his organization, putting away his hat and bag with a dim blue light glowing behind him. When Errold turned, he threw the boy that had appeared in a wam brown robe.

Pickett wrapped it around himself quickly, hissing in a breath. His wrists - his wrists ached fiercely. Everything hurt, a dull pain that settled along his spine and across his hips. He had spent too long in his animal form, too long with bones and muscle and sinew out of alignment. He leaned side to side, trying to stretch out as quietly as he could. Something popped and his breathing hitched.

“Pickett? Are you okay?”

“Oh! No, I’m-I’m-I’m okay,” he said quickly, smiling up at Errold. He didn’t want him to know, didn’t want him to catch on. If he did, he might try and fix it and he, he couldn’t handle that right now.

Errold looked down at him, brow furrowed. “Are you sure?”

Pickett nodded a little too quickly, and winced. Errold raised a brow.

“I’m, it’s- I’m a little sore,” he finally admitted, pulling the robe closed tighter. He looked up apologetically to see the magician’s concerned face. “But I’m okay! It was just a long time.”

Errold hummed, walking over to the dreaded bookcase. “Not all that long, Pic. Let me see what I can do.”

“No!” Pickett tried to stand, to reach out a hand to stop the man, but his legs couldn’t hold him up and he fell forward. He hit his nose on the way down, and even though it didn’t hurt much, there was still blood on his hand when he drew it away. The Magician tutted and went down to his knees.

“Look at you, making a mess of yourself,” he muttered, examining the boy’s face. For some reason, Pickett shivered under his gaze.

“What, what, what if I, what if I just walked-” the man sighed loudly, interrupting him. Pickett cowered further into himself, avoiding eye contact. He knew he wasn’t supposed to ask, but what danger could they really be in here?

“Pic, you know better than to ask that. Again,” Errold muttered, picking up the boy and depositing him onto the low table. “You know why, you must still remember how dangerous it is out there for people like us. They’d lock me up, take you away from me.” He paused, lifting his chin gently until they finally met eyes.

“You don’t want that, now do you?”

Pickett blinked up at him and took a deep breath before he shook his head. No, no he didn’t want that. Errold laid a hand on his chest and pushed him back flat against the wood. As the man walked around, back to his book and supplies, Pickett’s heart was slowly starting to race. While he was distracted by his own fear, a hand slipped under the boy’s shirt near his stomach.

Errold cried out, jerking his hand back and shaking it to get rid of the spark of pain. Pickett sat up on his elbows, eyes wide. The older man glared at him, hand smoking faintly.

“Wait, wait wait wait, I can explain! I can!” Pickett tried, crawling backwards off the table. Errold didn’t bother to respond, striding forward and pinning him down. The boy squirmed and wiggled, but was no match in his exhausted state. Soon enough there were long strips of linen securing his wrists and ankles to the table legs, two more going over his collar bone and hips.

Gruffly and annoyed, Errold wrenched up his shirt to examine the intricate lines of gold that covered his body. Pickett tried to interrupt, to distract him, but was shushed harshly. With a sigh, the man ran his fingers along one line that had been scratched and inched and the gold picked out of the scar. He gave Pickett a disappointed side-eye.

“Pickett-”

“I’m sorry!” Pickett cried out, eyes glossy but no tears spilling out yet. “I’m sorry! I am! But, but it itched and, and Errold please it felt better when I took the rune out. I can control it this time, I really can. I know I can!”

Errold leaned down and cupped the boy’s face in both hands. Poor thing was shaking, scared of what was going to happen. He hated to see him this way, hated that this was really the best way to apply the runes.

“I know, I know Pic - and I’m sorry, Sweetheart. But you can’t just claw them out. They’re there for a reason, and you need to respect that. I know you don’t want to, but I have to put them back. Shh, don’t cry, Shh I know, I know it hurts. But you need them, Pickett.”

He brushed his hand down the boy’s dark hair, looking into light eyes as the tears spilled over and down his cheeks. Poor thing. Pickett shut his eyes and laid back against the wood, trying hard to stifle his crying. Errold was right, he was always right. But it would be okay, he could do it. He had survived the other hours upon hours it took to bind the rest of his body, he could make it through re-placing a few lines on his side.

And whatever other ones Errold would add.

When the muzzle was placed against his mouth, he didn’t buck or try to fight it. Honestly, it was almost welcome. The process hurt, and others would be disturbed by his cries of pain. Errold pet his hair back one last time with an affectionate look before he lifted the boy’s shirt all the way and went to light the small fire.

The rods of gold were long and thin, small as a delicate sprig from a rosebush. They were expensive and shined even in the leather pouch Errold kept them in. It had to be a good quality gold, one that was pure enough to handle the weight of the magic. As harmless as they were in this form, Pickett still shivered when he heard them clink together.

Errold used a bit of dusty chalk to paint the correct lines across his skin as he waited for the fire to build. This part never hurt, but the sensation of it still made his heart race. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to wait.

The magician could see how hard the boy was trying for him, and he smiled sadly. Poor thing, but it really did try and be good for him. He would of course care for it afterwards, making sure he was as comfortable as possible. Donning thick gloves, Errold picked up a rod of gold and placed it in a specially crafted pipe. He’d had to make all these tools himself, designing them to work for what he needed. This pipe would not only help him melt the gold, but also apply it in even lines.

When it was ready, he returned to the boy bound to the table. He laid a hand on Pickett’s stomach in sympathy, then began his work.

Pickett cried out the first moment the molten liquid touched his skin, back arching and struggling in his restraints. It was beyond painful, beyond words he knew to describe it. It was burning through him, searing away paths and lines to cool in his skin. He sobbed into the muzzle, tears streaming down both sides of his temple. Every line, every dash burrowed farther into his skin. The pain built and built, with no regard to how much he could withstand. It didn’t care. It had no stake in how hard his heart pounding in his chest or how his lungs heaved for air. He just had to get through it, had to survive it.

He curled his hands into fists until he could feel the bite of his nails.

Errold hushed him softly, focused on following his chalk outline. His heart ached lightly, but only lightly. Pickett knew better than to dig the runes out. Any pain from the re-working of that was his own fault. Errold was doing this for his own good, he understood that. Pickett needed these, and Errold needed them.

It was mutually beneficial, he told himself.

Right as he was on the cusp of passing out, Errold pulled the pipe away to show he was finished. The new lines of gold over the boy’s dark skin were practically still glowing red, not yet having cooled down enough to shine their signature color. The magician didn’t dare touch them, just laid a damp cloth over the area.

Pickett whined loudly at the feeling, still heaving for breath. He could barely tell if his eyes were open at this point, just feeling like the world was distant from him. A hand touched his face to remove the muzzle but he couldn’t muster the strength to respond.

“Shh, shh Pic, you’re alright. Here,” Errold started, lifting him bodily from the table. Pickett whimpered, totally unaware that he had been untied. He was gently placed in his hammock, gratefully on his unhurt side, and left there as the magician tidied the rest of the room. The boy got his eyes open a few times, but the world was still blurry. He huffed through his nose and rubbed his face against the fabric, itching at the tear tracks across his face.

“Alright then,” Errold’s voice came and Pickett raised his head up. The man gathered him back out of the hammock and laid him on the bed. With just the back of his hand to the boy’s forehead he could tell he was already getting the fever, so he laid a damp cloth across it. The other wounds were still too tender to apply anything too strong, so he just used a general salve.

Pickett remained mostly quiet through the rest of the bandaging, simply letting it happen. He was a little more aware, however, when the magician wrapped his unharmed hands in bandages as well.

“To keep you from messing with them, Pickett,” Errold chided at the boy’s confused sound. Picket hadn’t done it much, but it would have to be something he would have to keep an eye on now. Perhaps he would pick up some mitts somewhere.

By the time he was done, Pickett’s fever was raging and he had to replace the cloth. He then returned him to the hammock to rest while he turned to his real work.

A request for a spirit guide had just come in, and it was an offer Errold had no desire to resist.

Tagging @yet-another-heathen cause this idea actually came from a convo with them!

#whump #magical whump #branding tw #burning tw #whumper as caretaker #painful transformation tw #pickett #errold #whump fic #magical whumpee #hehehe

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myelocin · 3 years

Text

of stars & skies | bokuto k.

Synopsis: Things sort of fall out of plan.

Genre: smut, fluff | WC: 1400+

Characters: Bokuto Koutarou

A/N: this is a commissioned piece by @hvnlydmn

i love you more - son of cloud

commissions

If someone were to ask Bokuto Koutarou to summarize the things he feels about you, at best he’d answer with just a grin.

A grin, for now, because in the moment his thoughts are anything but coherent. He can faintly recall that it’s only sometime between four or five in the morning, and the both of you really should be asleep but that’s far from the case.

Still, it’s the feel of your fingers clawing at his thighs that make him grin. Head thrown back, groan hoarse and throat scratched, he parts his legs further apart.

It’s a nice sight, he thinks. 5ams and the dim light just barely starting to peek through from the blinds. Your hair, messy and sticking out in more places in one beneath him and the marks on his thighs in the exact shape of your fingernails painted red and angry. Bokuto knows by now that he really should be saying something before he busts a fucking nut right then and there, but you do the thing and swallow—again, and his head blanks.

You smirk; your jaw’s been aching for a while now, the skin on your knees not doing any better. When you inhale, you’re a little more careful than usual, trying to regain control.

Bokuto just arrived home from a game overseas a little over two hours ago, and you had planned for him to catch up on sleep before doing anything else—truly, but five steps through the door his tongue was shoved down your throat and his hands were behind you unclasping your bra and plans went to shit.

He groans again, hands tightening around your hair as he pushes his cock in deeper, profanities spilling from his lips. Beneath your fingers his thigh trembles, and when his grip relaxes, you take it as an opportunity to ease off of his cock, eyes locked on him.

He leans back, one elbow bent to support his weight as the other runs over the deep flush of his face at the sight of you. Bokuto had always been thick, and he’s always been more than aware of that, so it just does something to him to see you taking him whole despite looking so perfectly wrecked.

His cock twitches on your hand, and you smirk.

“Fucker,” he groans, eyes never leaving your form as you poke your tongue out and lean forward, swiping at the slick that’s gathered at the tip of his cock.

“Good fucking girl,” you hear him moan, the vibration of his voice doing its job in sending a shiver that shot through your body and right to your core.

And even though sex with Bokuto plays out like it’s some kind of routine, it’s little moments that differ from yesterday and today that makes things worth it. Much like him, you can never really get enough. The weight of his cock on your tongue is familiar, but the way his jaw tenses just a little different in today than last week’s makes your heart leap. Half lidded eyes that glimmer different every single time show you all the shades of the moon when it hangs like gold in the sky stare at you like you are the world itself, and even though your slick’s dripping down your thighs, all the feelings of love still beats in your chest.

Bokuto peers at you, words caught in his throat before he count think to say them, moans half groaned out, your name repeated like a prayer in pants.

He feels you swallow around his cock and he stills. By now he already knows that all it would probably take for him to cum was a couple more licks to his slit, and he should be focusing on that, but the dawn chooses the exact same moment to break through the sky.

Then it’s soft orange and pale yellow, filtered through the blinds. Spilling on the floor, climbing up the walls, and illuminating your eyes that stare at him.

You recognize the look too, and the timing of your lover’s sentimentality should be comedic if anything, but when his shoulders soften and you feel him pull you up and away from him, seating you on his lap, your brain blanks.

Love, like a wordless exchange in the mornings, because even if the dawn has broken through the black of the sky, you choose to let the silence linger just for a little while longer. Bokuto holds you by the waist, lifting you up and over his cock before he eases himself in with a low groan. Eyes locked towards you, from your end you see the colors of the stars while he’s awestruck, gazing at the sky.

He’s panting, and you’re shaking—a newfound presence that’s always blended itself in the atmosphere of the room even when you’re fucking enveloping the two of you like a warm blanket on a cold day.

“I love you,” he says, the truth in his words finally breaking past its earlier barriers.

“I love you, I love you, I fucking love you,” Bokuto whispers, the tone of his voice half a moan and a confession, bottom lip in between his teeth as he thrusts up, and pulls your waist down to meet him halfway simultaneously.

And you feel it.

The kind of love that’s always found you ever since you met him.

Because love—the kind that’s raw and real and present, flows better through feelings instead of words. Though when he thinks of it, he had never been exactly the type to have been much for words, so he supposes the sentiment remains.

He likes to think that love—his sort of love—has a habit of being uncovered in the mornings. Mornings like 5ams right before the dawn breaks and the world stirs. The frost from last night’s chilly air still on the windowpanes and the sun just barely waking. A world that thrives in progress and motion, the days starting with the intention to be lived before it ends. The forgiving kind of sun during sunrise, because it feels more warm than scathing on his skin.

Bokuto likes to memorize everything about you under a light like this.

He knows he’ll see all the shades of blue when you open your eyes, but for now it’s the hue of the skin on your eyelids and blush of your cheeks that he sees. Bokuto chokes out another confession that reaches you, his fingers digging deeper into the skin of your waist, his breaths labored and roughed, perfectly matching yours.

Another inbetween makes itself known, coming as the thought that mornings have always been your sort of thing. It’s always been funny how little epiphanies of just how in love he is with you choose to unravel in moments like these, but it fits.

The sound of your voice—his name on your lips, moaned, and huffed out in short breaths fits. If you lean forward and press your chest against his, which he knows you only do when you’re getting close and wanting to bury your face somewhere—fits.

(Like a puzzle piece that clicks in place, it fits.)

Love fits, and nestles in the cracks and corners of his life, and he’s only felt fulfillment since.

You feel his hips stutter, his grip tightening even more before he slams you to him once, twice, as he buries himself to the hilt and cums.

Bokuto feels you shaking, in a way he knows is good against him, so he laughs. And he’s quiet with his words as he sounds out the vowels of your name. Hands, gentle in the way it holds you—cradles you to him, because love is like that too.

As much as it bursts and makes him feel like he’s racing through a highway, blind and breathless, and euphoric—it’s also just holding you close to him at daybreak. You allow the silence to resettle, your hands reaching forward to cup his face as you open your eyes and look at the colors of the stars again, and Bokuto’s smiling.

(You are too.)

He sniffles, as do you.

Love hangs like the vines of a plant that resurfaces into the earth again and again despite the rough hands that time never ceases to bring.

“Hey,” you whisper, your forehead pressed against his, the smell of home and him a familiar one to you.

(I love you.)

And he knows you mean to say that, so he closes your eyes and leans in to your touch, because he’s safe, and here, and home.

(The way his thumbs rub circles on the skin of your waist tells you that he means to say I love you too.)

#nc.commissions #nc.ns//fw #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu smut #hq x reader #hq smut #bokuto koutarou #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto koutarou smut #bokuto x reader #bokuto smut #bokuto imagines #bokuto scenarios #bokuto x reader fluff #haikyuu x reader fluff

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reptilian-with-scalli0ns · 2 years

Text

Good

Summary: a summary of Remus's path to acceptance through his perspective

Word Count: 1867

Read on AO3

cws: descriptions of violence and gore, disturbing imagery, some sexual references, self harm is alluded to all over the place, nightmares, hallucinations, vomit, non sexual nudity

_____________________

Remus didn’t remember much from when Creativity split. Just that Patton, just Heart back then, had promised to make everything better again.

And then it had hurt, and he had been left alone.

He laughed, then. A lot. So hard he cried. Or maybe he cried so hard he laughed. He didn’t remember anymore.

After that he remembered wandering, down in the dark corners of the mind. Sometimes there were flashes of color, of sound, but some instinct told him to stay away, and he would lay on the ground for hours imagining the various ways that the sources of the sounds would tear him apart. And sometimes he would do this for so long the imaginings would turn into nightmares and he would barely notice the difference until Rage was clawing out his eyeballs and he screamed himself awake.

It was during one of these times Remus had first met Janus. Well, first met Protection, as Remus, and Protection had told him he was now Deceit. That was also when Remus started to think that maybe he wasn’t Creativity anymore, either.

“You must be bad, now,” he’d said. “Everything down here is bad.”

Deceit had looked close to tears at that, and said. “You’re down here.”

“I’m bad, too.” Thomas had just watched Alice and Wonderland, and Remus grinned just like the Chesire Cat, stretching his mouth too wide. “We’re all bad here.”

Deceit sniffed, and Remus rolled over and tackled him to the ground.

“It’s okay,” he’d said. “We can be bad together.”

It was sort of nicer, after that. They had to run and hide even more now, since Janus had always been the one who held the door, and if they caught him it would be very bad. But now Remus had someone to talk to after he woke up screaming for Heart, even though Janus wasn’t usually fond of hugs. And Janus had someone to rant to about how everyone else in the mind was stupid and he was right and why they should all only listen to him, even if Remus didn’t understand most of it. They also had time to come up with their names.

Then there was Virgil. They had found him hiding in a corner, shaking and bruised, and terrified of both of them. He had screamed in a very strange way, and it had made Remus’s ear’s hurt, and he had thought it was so cool, and he had said so. Then Remus had painted his face to match Virgil’s black eyes, and did it for Virgil too, but Virgil was crying still and rubbing his eyes and it ended up all black underneath. But then Virgil had said he liked it that way, and Janus had said he looked scary, and then they were three.

And it was like that for a long time, the three of them together. They stuck together as they wandered, and kept each other safe. When Virgil got lost in panicking spirals, Janus and Remus were there, grounding him and pulling him out. When Janus couldn’t stop the lies from spilling out, and cried and screamed that he hated them and that they should leave him alone for trapping them here, they held him close and assured him that it wasn’t true. When Remus couldn’t tell the difference between nightmare and reality, they held him back from scratching himself to pieces and brought him back from the edge.

Even after the mindscape gained more structure and their rooms appeared, and Janus got better at holding the worst back so they didn’t have to hide anymore, they still spent most of their time together. They usually slept in Janus’s room, since it was comforting and soft and both Virgil and Remus’s room tended to produce nightmares.

Then Virgil ducked out.

Janus had to lock Remus in his room to prevent him from burning the light side down. And Virgil didn’t come back.

Remus had kept waking up thinking it was a nightmare, and not believing Janus when he said, haltingly, that it was true, until Remus stormed over to the wall that had once been Virgil’s door and smashed it in. The wall always repaired itself by the next day.

Eventually Remus had resigned himself to scratching at it, then just sitting there. Sometimes Janus would come to sit with him. And when Remus didn’t see Janus, only saw Virgil coming home and latched on and wouldn’t let go, Janus sat with him until he could.

Janus started visiting the others. He promised over and over again that he wouldn’t leave Remus alone. But Remus knew Janus was a liar. And it was so much more exciting up there.

So Remus started to learn how to spend time alone.

It was colder, when Janus was gone.

Remus spent a lot more time in the Imagination. He destroyed himself and Thomas and Thomas’s friends and the other sides over and over again. Sometimes he imagined it was Thomas ripping him to pieces. Sometimes it was Janus. Or Virgil. He got better at telling the difference between imagination and reality. Reality was sharper. More intense. It hurt more.

He could imagine having sex with the Dragon Witch all he liked but it was nothing compared to seeing Virgil scoff after he told an innuendo that Patton didn’t get, throwing a knife at Logan and watching him give a condescending look, or antagonizing Roman until they were full on brawling.

It was the only time anyone other than Janus had paid attention to him for a while, when they were fighting, so he had pissed them off whenever he’d gotten the chance.

But then Thomas decided to confront him. Thomas was talking to him. Acknowledging his existence.

And Janus had said he could be out in the light.

The first few weeks had been horrible.

For the others, that is.

Remus had carefully shredded every pillow he could get his hands on, offered to wash the dishes just so he could “accidentally” break the plates, flirted aggressively with any side in the vicinity except for Roman, got tentacle slime on absolutely everything, and, on one memorable occasion, filled the whole common area with hallucinogenic mushroom spores, causing everyone to get super loopy and Thomas to have several incredibly bizarre dreams.

It was amazing.

Instead of locking him away, Janus and everyone else always attempted to reason with him. He hadn’t had regular conversation like this since before Virgil left.

And, even though he was being absolutely horrible, they all seemed to be trying to help.

He had only spent a few days in the light when he had his first nightmare. It had been bad. He had been torturing Virgil, cutting into his legs to make sure he could never leave again while Virgil screamed and cried. The other sides had been there too, Janus particularly close, whispering in his ear how, see, this was proof, he was too bad, too evil, he could never be accepted, not when he was so corrupted, he was a virus, a curse, a disease. Black sludge had begun to pour from the other side’s eyes and mouths, and Remus had cackled as his own vision had begun to blur with darkness, and he woke up screeching and laughing and gasping, trying to breath through the blackness he was sure was filling up his lungs.

He had been attempting to slow down his breathing, or at least stop making noise, when Patton, of all sides, had rushed in, dodging his flailing arms and tilted him to the side so he could throw up without choking (his puke wasn’t black?). Patton had kept up a steady flow of words, telling him it was okay, that he was safe, that they didn’t think he was a disease, not anymore (had he said that out loud?), and held Remus’s hand as he squeezed Patton’s to death, and said the slight scratches from his chipped nails where no big deal when he finally let go.

And then, he’d sat with Remus for what felt like hours, holding his disgusting, puke and snot covered, naked self in his arms until he’d stopped gasping and relaxed enough to fall asleep, which he eventually did, without even making a single sex joke. And he’d woken up late the next morning, clean and tucked comfortably into his blankets, feeling more rested than he’d ever felt in his life.

Remus refrained from curdling Patton’s hot chocolate that morning as a thank you. He still did it again the next day, though. He hadn’t wanted anyone to think he was getting nice or anything.

Then one time, when Remus had been literally bouncing off the walls in the living room, tentacles swinging and sticking and knocking everything over, Roman had come in and actually offered to duel him in the Imagination! And afterward, Roman helped Remus bandage the injuries he wanted to keep for the cool scarring, provided he healed them enough to prevent any actual damage before they went back to the mindscape. And Roman wore the neon green bandage Remus had plastered to his forehead, claiming it to be a good aesthetic, the whole rest of the day.

Logan started offering to do experiments with him, though he used a lot more safety tools than Remus usually did. Logan even had some great ideas for even crazier experiments than usual now that he had Remus to imagine the mess away. They only accidentally zombified each other one time.

And Virgil was letting him do his makeup, and helping with Remus’s again. Remus swore to himself the extra eyeliner smudging was only because Virgil put too much on.

And Janus… didn’t really act that much different around Remus. He still let Remus ramble and drank whatever gross thing Remus had dumped in his wine with no reaction, and he still let Remus squish him with his tentacles every once in a while, even though he wasn’t as touchy. He smiled more, though. He laughed more.

And Remus realized that it wasn’t just Janus that genuinely made him smile these days.

The first time he’d been invited to a movie night and they all piled on top of each other he’d cried at the warmth. The others had started to move away, seeing his distress, but he’d wrapped them all in his tentacles and pulled them back, and no one got mad at him afterward.

Now there was always someone to help after a nightmare, especially when he started having less.

Now there was always a better way to blow off steam than beating himself up in the Imagination, where he was never alone lately anyway.

There was always someone to talk to.

Always someone to squish until they almost popped like a pimple, or to squish him like that if he needed it.

His head was still loud, but it was less now.

And even when it still got too much, sometimes, he wasn’t locked up or ignored or shunned, he was welcomed and hugged and told that it wasn’t his fault, he would be okay, they would all be okay.

And it was good.

Remus was good.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #remus sanders #remus sanders centric #angst #angst with a happy ending #they love each other you know #rwswriting

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talkfastromance4 · 3 years

Text

when i’m dreaming--calum hood oneshot

yeah so i’m going through something so this is very, very self-indulgent.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: drinking linked a little with coping, going through a depressive low, best friend!calum

feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

***

Calum notices something is wrong the minute she steps outside. He was about to take a drink of his white claw, but his eyes went to her nails when she pulled Crystal in for a hug. She typically paints them to match her mood and today they’re opalescent pink, barely noticeable but still there. In plain sight but still visible while she secretly wants to be invisible.

She smiles and cracks jokes with everyone she says hello to then when she steps in front of Calum, he sees the sadness in her eyes. They’ve been best friends for awhile now, they’ve shared secrets, stories of first loves and heartaches, their fears, their wildest dreams. But there was always something she kept hidden, tucked away in a box welded shut.

“Hey bud,” she sighs.

“Hey short stuff,” he grins playfully pulling her in for a hug. Her arms wrap around him and he makes sure to give her an extra tight squeeze.

“I’m not that short,” she grumbles in his chest.

“You’re shorter than me,” he reminds rubbing her shoulder with his thumb. Although her arms are loose around him he can feel the tension in her shoulders that she’s carrying.

“Stop hogging her! I haven’t seen her in weeks!” Ashton exclaims and Calum pulls away.

He knows it was too soon to break the hug but to keep up with her own façade he doubts anyone else sees, he does it.

“Hey, you’re the one who disappeared into the desert for all those weeks,” she jokes rising on her toes to loop her arms around Ashton’s neck.

He gives her a big bear hug that lifts her a few inches off the ground, Calum sees her nails digging into her arm as she squeezes him.

“Had to recenter myself, you should try it sometime,” Ashton teases right back. As if she was shocked, she removes herself from the hug then accepts a bottle of Mike’s from Luke.

“I can take something stronger than this, Hemmings,” she takes a large chug regardless.

“Yeah? Like tequila? I got some limes,” he jerks his thumb behind him towards the drink table.

“I said stronger not deadly. You know I can’t handle tequila,” she scrunches her nose.

Everyone else laughs but alarms are going off in Calum’s head.

“Yeah, the floor of my Tesla doesn’t like tequila either,” Michael chimes in with a tray of shots.

“I told you to pull over,” she shrugs lifting up a shot. She takes a whiff and nods in approval at his selected alcohol choice.

“I was going 75 on the freeway!”

“And that’s why I threw up. Ready?” she lifts her glass.

Calum meets her eyes as over the hands of their friends as Ashton gives an impromptu speech about friendship and long rides. He wasn’t really paying attention because when their eyes locked, he saw the panic, he saw the fear of whatever was going on in her head.

The next time he sees her is at the movies. Her eyes are darker along with her nails that are now a hunter’s green; camouflaged but still visible. While they’re waiting in line for snacks, he lifts her hand in his and runs his thumb over the color.

“This is a pretty color, I’ve never seen it on you before,” he says.

“Yeah, um…wanted to try something different,” she shrugs. “Do you want the blue icee?”

“Is that even a question?” he raises a brow, and she laughs.

Once they’re settled in the seats the previews start. Calum opens up the bags of sweet and sour treats while she opens the boxes of milk duds. The large bowl of popcorn (with extra butter) is settled between them, long red straws sticking out of their frozen drinks.

Throughout the whole movie, it’s an action romantic comedy, Calum keeps glancing at her. He watches her fingers disappear in the popcorn bowl, her hunter’s green nails appearing black in the dark theater. Calum’s seen enough movies to know this moment is foreshadowing the darkness she’s slipping into. He’s preparing himself for the fall but he’s not entirely sure she is.

Two weeks have gone by and he hasn’t seen her since the movie. Their schedules didn’t align so he decided to surprise her with takeout from her favorite Asian restaurant and chocolate cake from her favorite bakery.

When he opens the door, he hears Friends playing on her tv and he finds her horizontal on the couch. The hood of her sweatshirt is over her head, her arms wrapped around her torso, her black nails clutching the fabric.

Calum braces himself for what he’s walking into, sets the food on her counter and crouches in front of her. He pulls her hoodie back a little so he can see her face a bit better, her eyes are distant and staring off behind him.

“Hey,” he says softly then touches her hand. It’s very cold. “Y/N.”

Upon hearing her name does she finally look at him. Her eyes have filled and spilled with her tears in a matter of seconds. He links her fingers through his.

“Hi,” she mouths, her voice barely registering.

“Is this about…him?” he asks delicately.

About a year ago he chipped away at the welding on the box. He knows it involves a guy. He knows it’s about bad timing. He knows it’s about deep emotions.

She nods and the tears erupt more. She buries her face in her hands then adds another layer by hiding in the pillow.

“Nope, nope, hey,” he tugs on her arms. She’s pliant and allows him to drag her in a sitting position. He takes the place where her head was then brings her onto his lap. “I’ve got you, I’m right here.” He murmurs and pulls her hoodie down so he can rub at her hair.

She sobs loudly into his neck. Calum holds her as tight as he can, murmuring comforting words in her ear. Her sobs would subside, but he wouldn’t let go until she did. She’s very good at keeping her emotions at bay and even better at keeping people further away from her harbor. She doesn’t ask for help often, she doesn’t open up too much and when she does it’s always the footnoted version.

Three episodes of Friends later, her hold lessens, she gives a big sniff and peels herself away from Calum. He uses the sleeves of his shirt to wipe at her tears and nose.

“Have you eaten?” he asks, and she shakes her head. “I brought food. I’ll heat it up for you.”

She nods and falls back onto the couch. He rubs her knee then heads into the kitchen. When the food is prepared on plates he brings it to her and she takes it, scarfing down the first few bites heartily.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she finally speaks when her plate is empty.

“I know,” he nods looking over at her until she meets his brown eyes. “It’s okay.”

Calum ends up staying the night, his mind reeling from what the history is with this mystery guy. His thoughts get away from him as he stares at the ceiling above the couch. Was he some celebrity that kept her under the radar and broke her heart repeatedly? A Prince from some far-off country that got her hopes up and crushed them again and again?

He’s tossing and turning until he hears the shower turn on. Sad songs play over and over on her speakers, her voice singing along with the yearning words. Ghostin’ by Ariana and When the Party’s Over by Billie replay one after another.

She’s really hurting.

Calum bounds off the couch and opens the bathroom door.

“Y/N?” he makes sure his voice is a little louder than the music.

A sniff. “Yeah?” her voice is thick.

“Just want you to know I’m here,” he shuts the door and sits next to the shower.

His heart aches when he hears her crying again, the vocals echo and bounce off the tiles. Her sadness fills the room just as it’s filled in the hidden box of the guy who’s making her feel this way.

Four more repeats go by and the shower is finally shut off. Calum scrambles off the floor, sees her tug the towel from the door of the shower. Her shadow figure wraps it around herself and she opens the door. Her skin is red from the hot water, as are her eyes and cheeks from crying more tears. He grabs another towel and helps dry her hair while she stands there avoiding her reflection in the mirror.

“It’s been five years, why do I still feel like this?” she asks quietly.

“It hurts the most when it meant something.”

He left the bathroom after he dried and brushed her hair then waited for her in her bedroom. There’s pictures on her desk from high school. Her and some guy at prom. Her and the same guy a little bit older posing in a selfie on a couch, drunken smiles on their faces. Her and the same guy a little older again posed outside.

This must be from that box. She’s cracked it open and Calum is staring at some of the pieces that have broken her wholly.

“His name’s Henry,” she explains suddenly behind him.

Calum turns to her voice. The drastic change from the happy girl in the photos to the sad girl before him startles him. He remains silent to let her speak or to go into silence again. She moves onto her bed, sitting in the center and tucks her legs against her chest.

“We never dated. But we were always…together. Together in the physical sense for four years,” she continues. Calum joins her cautiously on the bed and listens. “Back and forth always. After every relationship we fell back into each other. He’s the longest relationship I’ve had, and it wasn’t even a real one.

“We cared about each other, and…I think he loved me. Time wasn’t on our side. It was too much or too little, I don’t know,” she shrugs. “Just when I think I’ve let go; I dream of him. Then he’s on my mind for days. And now this time…” she shakes her head and Calum pulls her against him. “I went on socials and I found out that he um…he’s a dad now. And I feel so stupid because that could have been me if we kept what we had. I feel stupid because a part of me wanted it to be me.”

Calum doesn’t fully understand the ins and outs of their relationship, but four years of physical affection and a rock to lean on, that’s a lot of history. He also doesn’t fully understand how this guy didn’t make it official with Y/N. She’s the perfect best friend with a big heart.

Calum wishes he knew her in school because he would have been the one to take her to prom. He would have been the one take her to movies and dinners and surprise her with flowers. He would have made it official rather than keep her guessing.

“I’m really going through it and I don’t know how to get out,” she whispers sadly.

“I think…” Calum heaves a big sigh and kisses her wet head. “I think you’re just cracking the surface of breaking free. I can tell he meant a lot to you and you meant a lot to him. Even if he never said it, you’ll always be a part of him just like he’ll be a part of you. Someone that important won’t just poof away.”

“But I want him to, it hurts.”

“I know it does, sweetheart. I’ll help you in any way I can, okay?”

“You’re so understanding and you’re so good, but I don’t want to cry over another guy when you’re here.”

“That’s what best friends do.”

She turns her head and gazes up at him. He notices the storm in her eyes aren’t as dark, her lips are chapped from the cracking of memories she spilled out.

“Calum, you’re more than my best friend.”

He hears a deeper truth in her statement, and it causes his breathing to quicken. The subtle yet very noticeable flick of her eyes to his lips causes him to react. He gives her a quick peck, but that smallest touch sent an enormous shock through his system.

They settle against her pillows, the kiss wasn’t awkward, but it filled them both with questions. Questions that will be answered at a different time because right now he wants to hear this most vulnerable part of her life. She takes his hand in hers first and plays with his fingers while she talks.

He makes comments and asks questions to try and understand a bit more. Calum kisses her head when her voice starts to shake. Hours go by and the sky starts to lighten, birds are awakening.

“Hey,” she says right as he’s about to fall asleep. They talked all night, but she quieted down about twenty minutes.

“Hm?” he opens his eyes.

“We match.”

He looks down at their intertwined fingers when she taps on his nail. His polish is chipped away from chewing on a hangnail then smiles at the black color. He lifts their hands and kisses their knuckles.

“I feel what you feel.”

“What exactly do you feel?”

“I felt you slipping. I can sense your emotions when no one else can, and I guess I painted my nails subconsciously because I didn’t want you to be alone in the dark,” he explains. She’s quiet for a moment and he thinks she really fell asleep this time.

“Thank you. I don’t think I’ll be this bad again.”

“If you are, I’ll be here. I’ll always be here.”

“Cal?”

“Hmm?” he sighs. It’s getting harder to keep his eyes open, but he doesn’t want her to stop talking. He doesn’t want her out of his arms.

“When I’m dreaming tonight it will be of you.”

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#best friend!cal #calum hood oneshot #calum hood angst #calum fluff #calum hood fluff #calum 5sos writing #calum 5sos #5sos writing #calum hood 5sos #calum fic #calum hood fic

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nanstgeorge · 3 years

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“little garden” implications

starting to think that “little garden” = fandom elain and this was sjm’s way of subtly tackling how she has been reduced to her hobbies and overlooked by characters & the fandom for her traditionally feminine characteristics. this has even led some people to determine her possible endgames (ex; lucien and tamlin) for the series just because she likes gardening. not because she has expressed interest in them, but because she likes gardening so that automatically means she must end up with someone associated with flowers.

im not opposed to elain somehow taking over spring court or ending up with lucien (if the story convinces me lmao) but there’s an issue with sticking her there just because it seems like it works. like elain residing at spring court has been a popular fan theory since the beginning of the series but every book that has been released only seems to disprove it even more? she has never explicitly said she wanted to live there, even chosen a life for herself at night court, but fans and the inner circle just took this idea and ran.

“But Elain.... The Sprint Court had been made for someone like her.” (Nesta)

“Elain in black was ridiculous. Yes, she was beautiful, but the color of her long-sleeved, modest gown leeched the brightness from her face. It wore her, rather than the other way around. And he knew the cruelty of the Hewn City troubled her. But she hadn’t hesitated to come. When Feyre had offered to let her remain home, Elain had squared her shoulders and declared that she was a part of this court—and would do whatever was needed. So Elain had let her golden-brown hair down tonight, and pinned it back with twin combs of pearl. He’d never once in the two years he’d known her found Elain to be plain, but wearing black, no matter how much she claimed to be part of this court … It sucked the life from her.” (Cassian)

i’d say that it’s arguable whether or not nesta truly has an accurate depiction of elain now that we have a more in-depth portrait of nesta’s mind and childhood. of course this was not cultivated by nesta herself, with much help from her mother, but elain is still a child to nesta. a child who is a bartering tool between her and her disfigured dynamic with feyre. a child who is a reminder of her own insecurities. essentially, this quote from acosf sums it up, “nesta made her own choices, but our mother laid the ground work.”

“Elain is pleasant to look at, but she has no ambition. She does not dream beyond her garden and pretty clothes. She will be an asset on the marriage market for us one day, if that beauty holds, but it will be our own maneuverings, Nesta, not hers, that win us an advantageous match” (Mama Archeron)

“It doesn’t matter what I think. Go back to Feyre and your little garden.”

Elain, sweet and oblivious.

Elain was like a dog, loyal to whatever master kept her fed and in comfort.

But to let Elain involve herself, jeopardize her safety—

“Look who decided to grow claws after all. Maybe you’ll become interesting at last, Elain.”

“Always defending sweet, innocent Elain.”

Challenge filled each word. Challenge—from Elain, of all people.

Elain stepped closer, brown eyes wide. Undoubtedly wholly convinced of her own innocence, her innate goodness.

Elain had accepted his death as inevitable. She hadn’t bothered to fight for him, as if he hadn’t been worth the effort, precisely as Nesta knew she herself wasn’t worth the effort.

It was inevitable, Nesta supposed, stomach churning. She was the monster. Why shouldn’t the two of them band together and shove her out? Even if she’d foolishly believed that Elain had always seen every horrible part of her and decided to stick by her anyway.

now onto feyre, who has always had a softer but different opinion of elain. this doesn’t mean it’s accurate to how elain is or was, but it’s safe to say that this was an opinion that wasn’t stemmed out of their mother’s mind. this is not to villainize nesta, but merely explain how elain was never made out to only be a “pretty face” to feyre. but of course it’s important to remember that she isn’t scotch free for how she acted in their childhood.

It wasn’t that Elain was cruel. She wasn’t like Nesta, who had been born with a sneer on her face. Elain sometimes just … didn’t grasp things. It wasn’t meanness that kept her from offering to help; it simply never occurred to her that she might be capable of getting her hands dirty.

Perhaps buried it a bit, but she was generous, loving, and kind—a woman I found myself proud to know, to call sister.

Elain mouthed my name but kept cowering, kept her head down.

Elain, who had been gentle and sweet.

I had not painted in years at that point, had not dared spend the money on myself … But Elain had.

She had looked at that cottage with hope; I had looked at it with nothing but hatred. And I knew which one of us had been stronger.

“She loves her garden. Always loved growing things. Even when we were destitute, she managed to tend a little garden in the warmer months. And when—when our fortune returned, she took to tending and planting the most beautiful gardens you’ve ever seen. Even in Prythian. It drove the servants mad, because they were supposed to do the work and ladies were only meant to clip a rose here and there, but Elain would put on a hat and gloves and kneel in the dirt, weeding. She acted like a purebred lady in every regard but that.”

nesta and feyre both have two different feelings regarding elain but they are similar in that they both believe she needs to be protected. it’s pretty clear when elain reminds them of how they only thought of her trauma when it affected them.

“Elain was right. We’ve become so focused on how her trauma impacted us that we forget she was the one who experienced it.” (Feyre)

quite honestly, it’s the inner circle members who are aware of elain’s potential and look at her as not defenseless compared to her sisters. this of course makes it’s quite ironic that she’s used as “pawn” to get nesta to stick her neck out. moving on, it’s specifically azriel, who is someone she chose to create a bond with and probably knows her best. cassian also may be someone who considers elain to not truly belong to night court but does shift his opinion on her overall character.

“Including Elain, who is more than capable of defending herself against the darkness of the Trove, if she chooses to. Don’t underestimate her.” (Amren, oops)

“Nesta was wrong, Cassian realized, to think of Elain as loyal and loving as a dog. Elain saw every single thing Nesta had done, and understood why.” (Cassian)

“I think she’s kind, and I’ll take kindness over nastiness any day. But I also don’t think we’ve seen all she has to offer.” (Rhys)

rhysand is also someone who slowly begins to see elain in a different light as well as feyre by the end of the book. in fact, it takes rhys expressing his opinion of elain, as someone who didn’t grow up with her, for feyre to see things differently. it takes rhys, who brings back up the first description of elain in the series, for feyre to recollect another element of elain.

“It wasn’t meanness that kept her from offering to help; it simply never occurred to her that she might be capable of getting her hands dirty.” (Feyre, ACOTAR)

“Don’t forget that gardening often results in something pretty, but it involves getting one’s hands dirty along the way.” (Rhys, ACOSF Bonus)

“Have you ever seen Elain act like that before?”

“No. I mean, she’s been brave when she had to be, but she’s never been confrontational.”

“Maybe she’s never been given a chance to be that way.”

“You think I stifle her?”

“Not you alone. But I wonder if everyone has spent so long assuming Elain is sweet and innocent that she felt she had to be that way or else she’d disappoint you all.”

in conclusion, elain is a character who’s journey is yet to be complete. the first real choice she had was to not hunt for the family but essentially, she’s been deprived of real choice and independence her entire life. besides being pretty and marrying well, not much has ever been expected of her until she left the garden of her childhood and planted her own. while she may have been turned against her will, elain found solace in dedicating her attention towards the garden in the archeron mansion, night court and all those who resided there. gardening and growing things is something she chose; not something that was inflicted upon her (such as a mating bond.)

elain does not belong somewhere or with someone because she gardens. we have seen countless times over that she can make her own place anywhere but she chose to make a home at night court.

#this is just a rant with quotes lmao #acotar #elain archeron #pro elain archeron #pro elain #anti elucien #a court of thorns and roses

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steviespanties · 3 years

Note

Since Steve’s parents are out of town so often, he and Billy have a habit of hooking up at Steve’s place. Steve’s room is nice and all, but Billy has a thing for fucking Steve in his mom’s bed;; ((HI I LOVE YOUR ACCOUNT AND YOUR STORIES THANK YOU FOR CREATING SUCH MASTERPIECES💖💖))

THANK YOU SO SO MUCH AND ALSO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG TO ANSWER THIS!!! (This sent me down an interior decorating rabbit hole trying to figure out what Steve’s mom’s bed- and then her own room might look like😅😂 Please imagine a layout similar to this, but with another window on the other side of the bed for more light. The ‘sofa’ and bed look a lot more like this, but the colors and style are more similar to this and this room.) 2.2k words, rated E. Steve POV, some manhandling, some frottage, some rimming and dirty talk. Anal sex. Ya know. My usual.

Steve’s parents have a big enough house (and are rich enough) that his mom has an entire bedroom for herself. She calls it her boudoir, because it’s where her walk-in closet is and where she keeps all her fancy makeup, lesser used jewelry and perfumes. There’s a massive four-poster bed with floor-length drapes matching the curtains, a chaise lounge, a vanity, all in creamy white and bathed in warm lamp light.

Before he gets together with Billy, Steve doesn’t even think about it’s existence. It’s just another empty room, after all. The most he sees of the house are the entrance, kitchen, living room and the walk upstairs to his bedroom with his own bathroom. Hell, sometimes it slips his mind that he technically lives in what counts in Hawkins as a mansion.

Billy, however, becomes obsessed with the ‘boudoir’ in particular.

The first time he's supposed to really stay over, not just crash in Steve’s room and fuck him into his bed at 3am, he steps through the front entrance, whistles after a survey of the hallway and goes “Aren’t you gonna show me around?”

“Yeah, sure. Just take a pair of house shoes from over there.” Steve gestures towards the shoe rack in question and Billy’s expression goes from amused to disbelieving.

“Seriously?”

Steve glares at him. “Yeah. Seriously. My parents put in new flooring over the summer and now everything has to look pristine for the two times a year they have visitors over.”

It's such an unnecessary, stupid rule to enforce all of a sudden when Steve has rarely worn shoes around the house anyways.

He’s barefoot when it’s warm outside and leaves his shoes by the front door to change into thick wool socks during the cold months. And somehow, his parents still have found a new way to make him feel like he’s walking on eggshells in his own home.

Still, he watches Billy sullenly take off his shoes with growing amusement that gradually lightens the bad mood Steve’s gotten into just thinking about it. He figures he can give Billy a quick tour of the house and then order pizza. Watch a movie, fuck in an actual bed instead of getting each other off in the cramped backseats of their cars.

What happens instead is that Billy spends a ridiculous amount of time dragging Steve through his own home. He looks into guest rooms. Shoves his nose into cabinets. Looks out of windows like he’s staking out the neighborhood. (Woods. The neighborhood is mostly woods.)

“What are you, a spy?” Steve jokingly asks when Billy lifts up a painting to peek behind, like he’s looking for a safe. Billy scoffs, all mock-offended. But Steve can see a hint of a blush form on his cheeks. Gotcha. It’s kinda sweet how curious he is about the place, even if his main complaint is that it “feels like a show house.” Steve doesn’t have the heart to point out that he’s not too far off.

It’s when they step into his mom’s room that a predatory glint enters Billy’s eyes. “Ohh, is this where Mama Harrington sleeps?”

“Yeah. Sometimes. She wanted a room to get ready ‘in peace’. I’m pretty sure she just wants to drink prosecco in peace.” He watches Billy’s fingers trail over the fabric of one of the creamy white curtains framing the window. They part and his rings glint in the sunlight he’s suddenly bathed in. When he turns back around his hair is lit up gold and frames his head like a halo. Steve licks his lips. The fun thing about dating Billy is that he not only matches Steve in terms of libido, but seems to have a sixth sense for the moment Steve’s thoughts get distracted by his gorgeous everything.

Or maybe Steve just isn’t very subtle.

That glint in Billy’s eyes turns into hungry laser focus. Sets him into motion until he’s all pressed against Steve, a hot line of unrelenting muscle pushing him closer to the bed until they tip over and onto the mattress. Half hidden by more curtains hanging from the canopy. Sunlight follows them.

White teeth flash in an easy grin, quick and sweet, and then Billy’s lips are on Steve’s. His body weight pushes Steve into the creamy white bed cover and the air out of his lungs in a huffed laugh. Underneath him the texture of the blanket- distinct raised ribbing- digs into his skin. Billy’s hands dig into his hair.

The slick heat of Billy’s mouth and his thigh shoved between Steve’s legs is intoxicating. Makes it impossible to form a coherent thought when his focus narrows down on Billy on top of him, curls just long enough to fall down and tickle Steve’s face. He makes the most delicious sound when Steve grabs his ass and pulls him closer, till their hips are lined up just right. Steve pulls. Billy pushes. Like a conversation in a language purely made of heat and pressure, hitching breaths and choked moans. Against his own growing erection, painfully trapped in his jeans, he can feel Billy fill out as well. The pleasure is maddening. Enough to make Steve feel a burst of wetness pulse from his dick into his underwear. Enough to make him roll his hips up, searching for a better angle.

“Billy,” he sighs, not sure what he wanted to say afterwards. Just enjoys saying his name.

“We’re wearing too many clothes,” Billy complains in response, like he picked up whatever thought Steve dropped in the minuscule space between them. They break out into a familiar flurry of limbs and discarded clothes. A condom packet and a small bottle of lube make it from Billy’s discarded jacket onto the comforter next to Steve’s head. He snorts.

“You sure you weren’t a boy scout at some point? Feels like you’re always prepared to get your dick wet.”

Billy rolls his eyes, fond smile belying his annoyance. “Shut up. Turn around.” His voice has taken on that deep, rough tone indicating how much he’s turned on. Steve leans back instead, takes his dick in hand. Enjoys the rough drag of his dry palm when he drags it up in a loose grip. Just enough to tease. Billy raptly follows the movement. “Maybe I will if you ask me nicely.”

Oh, he loves this game. Put up a token bit of protest when Billy gets bossy, until he gets impatient and starts dragging Steve around until he’s nothing but putty underneath his hands.

“Show me your pretty hole, babe. I won’t ask again.”

Steve’s dick pulses in his hand. He watches Billy with half-lidded eyes. The way his muscles shift, getting ready to move. Hungry and powerful, like a big wildcat.

In the next second, he’s on Steve. Makes him gasp out an involuntary yelp when he easily flips him and drags him up by his hips. Until he’s on his knees, face buried in the bed cover and hot breath suddenly ghosts over his hole. There’s barely enough time to reorient himself before the scratch of Billy’s mustache and the slick warmth of his tongue press into his crack.

“Ah, fuck yes.”

He’s never done this before Billy. Not with any of the girls he fucked or dated. Not with Tommy, who he’s traded sloppy, shameful handjobs and blowjobs with. He doesn’t think he can ever get enough of feeling Billy’s tongue on his rim, swirling around until he’s dripping with saliva. Pushing inside where he’s sensitive, pressure and stretch of his hole making him squirm and push his hips back immediately.

It’s almost embarrassing how greedy he is for Billy’s mouth on him. His lips wrapped around his dick. His tongue shoved deep into his hole, held in place by those warm hands on his asscheeks. Holding him open so Billy can get even deeper, making him moan and drool into the blanket beneath him. It’s like a pulse, curls into him till his dick pushes out another spurt of precome and he can feel himself twitch, heavy and aching between his legs.

A slicked up finger joins Billy’s tongue. Makes the stretch just a bit more intense, but still so, so good. Billy only comes up for air when he adds a second finger. Steve can feel him rest his cheek on his ass, probably watching the movement of his fingers up close. He seems to have a thing for the sight of Steve’s rim stretched, his hole filled up and glistening.

“Gonna make you a complete mess in your mom’s bed,” Billy huffs into his skin. “Gonna make you cry and cream yourself all over her sheets.” He thrusts deeper and stretches his fingers until they tug at Steve’s hole and he groans with the ache. “Better get going then,” he tries to taunt. It falls flat with all that desperation laced through his words. The thing is, provoking Billy only gets you so far. Steve can tease him into impatience, but once he’s fully grasped control, he revels in it. Basks in Steve’s frenzied, futile attempts at irritating him. Like he’s had his chance, but the game is already won.

Steve doesn’t mind losing that much anyways.

“Just you wait,” Billy says fondly.

All Steve can focus on for a while is that glorious, slick movement of Billy’s fingers. The way he pushes in and out of him, stretches his rim and his insides, rubs over that spot inside of him that makes him frantically claw at the textured bed cover underneath him. Just long enough to make him whine and push back, pulse around a third finger that stretches him even wider.

At some point, when he’s reduced to a sweat-slick line of tightly wound pleasure, he finds himself empty. Barely registers the sound of a ripped open condom wrapper. Warm, humid breath over his spine that wanders up up up until there’s lips and teeth on his shoulder and Billy’s cock slowly pushes inside.

There’s a growing spot of drool-wet fabric his face presses into that swallows some of his moans. When Billy moves, satisfied sighs and barely coherent praises tumbling from his lips, Steve grasps the bed cover tight.

Billy’s hips find a rolling, unrelenting rhythm. The drag of his cock is a drug Steve can’t get enough of. Dreams about, just as much as he dreams about the tight heat of Billy around his dick.

He wishes he could turn around and admire Billy’s flushed face. Hold him between his spread legs. Get lost in his eyes and dizzy from his freckles. But Billy’s weight on his back and his mouth sucking hickeys into the back of his neck isn’t bad either. He tries to hold himself up, tries to concentrate on carrying that weight on his back, but with each thrust inside it’s like his knees spread wider and his elbows sink down until he’s pressed flat onto the bed. And then his dick makes contact with the bed cover and gets pushed right into it right along Billy’s thrusts.

“Ah!” The moan is embarrassingly loud. Louder than any other noise he’s made so far. Of course, Billy picks up on it.

“You gonna be a good boy and blow your load all over your mommy’s sheets?”

“Shut- shut up, fuck.” Billy just laughs, voice shot to hell.

Even if Steve wanted to, he can’t escape that mouthwatering pleasure the additional drag of rough fabric against his dick provides. Because even if he wanted to try, he can’t pull away from Billy’s weight on top of him. His heavy, thick cock inside of him that holds him open and fills him up.

He comes with a sob. Pushes his face harder into wet fabric. Pushes his dick through his own mess. Pushes his hips back to meet Billy’s thrusts, even when it becomes just a bit too much.

Billy rests his entire weight on him when he comes with a deeply satisfied groan. Through their aftershocks, he buries his face in Steve’s hair and they rest in companionable silence.

It’s not the last time they end up fucking on that bed, no matter how many times Steve complains about the laundry with flushed cheeks.

...

Steve isn’t enough of an idiot to not understand that Billy likes to fuck him in his mom’s bed because he likes the conquest of a room that’s ‘forbidden’. He’s the same at parties, likes to sneak into rooms he’s not supposed to be in. Likes the thrill of doing something nasty with Steve in a place his mom will walk into and never even suspect what’s happened.

And Billy? Billy doesn’t want to admit it, especially not to Steve’s face, but... the way Steve’s hair looks against the creamy-white sheets in his mom’s bedroom? The soft yellow glow of light, the blush that spreads from his cheeks down to his neck, to his chest faster than it does anywhere else- it’s addictive.

The best part, the one they both like a little too much is what happens afterwards. When the raised ribbing of the bed cover has left indents on Steve’s face where it’s been pressed down. On his arms and knees. On his back, where only Billy can see and trace it for the rest of the night, reverent and sweet.

#asks #OHH my god I'M SO FLATTERED THANK YOU SO MUCH😭💖💖💖#I hope you're having a LOVELY day and you like this!!#saberghatz #(also i'm so sorry this took ages to answer bc i took so long to write this?? jfc!!!)#harringrove #harringrove fic

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monster-bait · 4 years

Text

Holt the Witch’s Familiar; M Cat Familiar x F Human, NSFW Monster Match

Monster Match for @moonlightreetops: What I usually look for in a partner is someone that is the equivalent to bedrock personality wise. I need stability and understanding in some sort of way to make me feel secure in a relationship...I collect macabre trinkets and spend most of my time doing little creative projects. I watch scifi flix, anime and play DND so big geek vibes here

I was *determined* to give him the name of an actual, historical familiar, and I didn’t name him Vinegar Tom, so YOU’RE WELCOME. Also, I left a TON of Holt on the cutting room floor, so there will likely be a sequel to this down the road!

The doll had a particularly creepy face.

“Miss Claudette is from the mid-eighteen hundreds,” the female auctioneer read, “once belonging to a privileged little girl of the era, she is a magnificent model of the expectations of a typical Victorian lady.”

You bit your lip in anticipation as hands reached into the frame, turning the doll on her pedestal to show off the detailing on the dress; the creepy, painted bisque face forgotten.

You had no idea who he was—he never spoke, never stepped into the frame, never did anything other than manipulate the items at the behest of the sultry voiced woman in charge, but you’d be lying if you pretended he wasn’t the reason you kept tuning in week after week to their oddity auction, his lovely hands and the banter afterwards.

Long and white and sculpted, veins and tendons standing out in relief, his hands were their own work of art, like a living sculpture. The endlessly long fingers were tipped in equally lengthy nails, painted matte black and ending in lethal-looking points, you supposed calling them claws would likely be more accurate.

You wondered, not for the first time, if he were a werewolf, or some similar creature.

He wouldn’t have the nails all the time, you reminded yourself, thinking of what Kenzie had said. The chipper werewolf had been in your gaming group for several months, a welcome addition, for geeky clubs tended to be overrun with guys, and you’d become friendly with her almost immediately, bonding over a shared love of anime and crafting. You’d casually wondered aloud if werecreatures retained elements of their bestial side, like sharp claws, perhaps, but the freckle-faced young woman had quashed your supposition.

“Nope,” she’d announced cheerfully, seating herself at the gaming table. “Unless it’s like, the day of the change, maybe.”

You had no idea who or what he was, but conversing with him after the auction each week had become a bright spot in your weekend calendar.

It had started when you discovered the wonderful, weird world of oddities auctions run weekly on Instagram. You’d always had a penchant for the macabre and had amassed a nice little collection over the years, but now small businesses were hurting and you could enjoy oddity shopping from the comfort of your phone. You’d heard of the Cat & Crow but had never made the drive to the neighboring city to visit the shop in person, and were excited to see what they had to offer.

“Welcome everyone to the Cat & Crow, thanks for joining us today.”

The woman before the camera wore the uniform of every other social media witch you followed—trendy, artfully tattered black clothes, her raven-colored hair done up in a crown of braids and dreadlocks; her eyeliner expertly winged, tattoos that appeared to be tree branches reaching across her clavicle, with half a dozen rings on each hand.

“Winners, Holt will be contacting you directly at the auction’s end, please be ready with your method of payment. We’ve got a lot of unique items to get through today, so let's get started!”

It wasn’t until the third week you’d tuned in that you’d chatted with the mysterious Holt. You’d been outbid on several of the items you liked, but managed to snag two others, including a victorian poison ring, and he’d recognized your screen name.

Hello again! What were you the big winner of this week? Lot 23 and 47...the onyx and gold poison ring and the pocket-sized surgical tool set. Hmm! Big weekend plans?

You’d laughed aloud at your laptop, cheeks coloring despite the fact you were alone. Nothing nefarious as all that, I swear! Although my table game group had better stay on their toes tonight…

Oh fun! I used to belong to one of those before I moved. So what are you guys playing right now?

After that week, he asked after your game group at the end of every auction. You told him of the hours-long game of Catan, the entire month of Call of Cthulhu, the bickering session that had broken out over a game of Azule.

That sounds great actually. I need to start doing fun things again, since we’ve started the auctions I feel like I’m working 24/7.

You bit your lip now, thinking of his words from the previous week.

After the creepy doll had been some Templar altar piece, a hand of glory with only one candle remaining, and a terrifying victorian wind-up toy, and the only thing to which you’d paid attention was his hands and his sharp claws, shifting things around as the witchy-looking woman spoke.

You’d realized your shopping habit had become more expensive than you’d initially counted on, and that for the last several weeks you were truly only bidding on items as a way to talk to him after the auction’s close. Just ask him. You don’t need to buy anything today, you don’t even like the stuff! Just take a deep breath and do it. Deciding the voice in your head was right, you did as it advised, sucking in a breath and leaning over your keyboard before you changed your mind.

Hi! Not a winner this week, nothing really caught my eye. You swallowed hard, pushing on. I wanted to invite you to join our group sometime! We meet every Saturday at the Melted Meeple, so tonight, lol! You grimaced at yourself, but persevered. We’re just playing CAH right now, but there’s talk of a D&D campaign starting up. The more the merrier!

You waited a minute, then two, before pushing yourself up from the desk. If he didn’t respond, it wasn’t a big deal, you told yourself. He was working, after all, and you really did need to get ready to go meet your friends that evening. Hair fluffed, clothes changed, the handful of dishes you’d left in the sink washed and put away...you went back to your laptop just before you needed to get going, holding your breath as you looked at the screen.

That sounds great! I have to finish things up here, but hopefully I won’t be too late. This will be fun, I feel like we’re old friends at this point!

You told yourself the bounce in your step as you left was simply because it was a nice evening, that you were happy to spend time with your friends and nothing more. That’s it. Just another normal night.

“So what are you going to do?” you asked him for the dozenth time that evening, before biting into a crust of melty cheese, your eyes rolling back in bliss. The Melted Meeple specialized in gaming and grilled cheese, and they excelled at both.

Holt shrugged, spearing a sweet potato fry. He was a finicky eater, carefully cutting things with a knife and fork, scrutinizing the menu every week as though it were the first time he’d seen it, before ordering the exact same thing. He took his time with things and could not be rushed—spearing his fries one at a time, swirling the straw in his drink until the ice had all but melted into the alcohol—and as a result, the two of you spent more time tucked away at your own little table than you did playing the group’s game, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You were smitten.

You’d been a nervous wreck that first night, raising your head anxiously every time the Meeple’s great doors were pulled open, but you did your best to hide it from your friends. You were used to being the steady one, after all, the one who gave advice and provided a ready shoulder for the whole group...you didn’t begrudge your friends their drama and woes, but it made it hard when you had your own anxieties and nowhere to turn.

Kenzie had dropped into the seat next to you, had been going on about the latest disaster with her boyfriend when her head had snapped up, nose wrinkled.

“Ugh, cat. It’s too close to the moon to deal with smelling that.”

You hadn’t noticed the door pulling open, and weren’t entirely sure how he’d managed to do it silently, but a man who’d not been standing before the entrance a moment earlier had stood there then, his citron-green cat eyes scanning the room hesitantly. You’d known it was him instantly.

Thick raven-colored hair and bone-white skin, slim black jeans and a black leather jacket atop a blood red shirt, he was a fitting counterpart to the witch who ran the oddity auction. One of his thick, arched black brows had cocked hopefully when they landed on you staring at him, and you raised a hesitant hand in greeting, smiling when his lips split, revealing a row of blinding white teeth. You took note of the long, hooked incisors in his smile.

“Is he a werecat?” you’d hissed to Kenzie as he made his way across the huge room.

She’d sniffed the air, wrinkling her nose again. “No. Just...just a cat. I don’t get it. I’m going to grab a drink before the next game starts, you want anything?”

He was a familiar, you’d learned. A witch’s familiar, a sleek black cat when he wasn’t the handsome, slightly goth-looking man sitting across from you. His witch, the auctioneer, Arabeth the mistress of Crows—“Bethany,” he’d corrected flatly, rolling his eyes—was his business partner and co-owner of the Cat & Crow, a naturally gifted witch with no direction or commitment to the craft, according to him.

“Let me tell you, working in retail was not a career ambition for me,” he’d laughed that first night, as the two of you sat at your own small table away from the group, sharing a basket of fries before joining the game. “But the shop is successful and it keeps me busy, since she’s all but abandoned her path.”

By the end of the night, your stomach had been a riot of butterflies. He was stable and confident, a sharp departure from the majority of your friend group, you’d realized. Stable and confident, and ridiculously good looking. You’d thought he was of a middling height when you’d been seated, but he towered over you, engulfing you in a hug at the evening’s end.

“This was a lot of fun, thanks for inviting me!”

“Every Saturday,” you replied breathlessly, trying to restrain yourself from burying your face against his solid chest. You didn’t know what Kenzie was talking about, he didn’t smell like a cat at all—he smelled like black musk and pine, making you think of a dark forest on an autumn night, masculine and sexual…“I hope you’ll join us again!”

“If you’ll be here, I definitely will,” he’d said, giving you another one of those sharp-edged smiles, his eyes glowing on the dark street.

That had been over a month ago, and you were head-over heels in your crush.

He’d joined you every Saturday, and it had become your custom to eat together, away from the group before joining in whatever game was starting. When both Kenzie and another friend had flaked on going furniture shopping with you, he’d taken their place, doing the heavy lifting, putting together a bookcase, and paying for dinner afterwards, despite your insistence to the contrary. It was a revelation, having someone there to hear your problems, and you were happy to do the same, whenever he came in grumbling about his deteriorating relationship with his witch.

When your gaming group began planning its Dungeons and Dragons campaign at last, you discovered Holt had never played and wasn’t familiar with any of the rules.

“First we have to decide your character,” you explained, pushing a character sheet across the table. “Race, attributions, what you’d like your strengths to be…”

“Tell me again why I can’t be a bard who’s also a sorcerer.”

“You can cast spells as a bard! We’ve been through this!”

“I want to be sneaky and magical and have everyone love me.”

You’d come to the Cat & Crow once, popping in unannounced, and had seen him in his cat form. Sleek and sinuous, jet black with bright green eyes, the black cat had rubbed up against your ankles as you’d stood there, after being greeted by the friendly-seeming witch, mewling determinedly before darting off into the back room. Holt had come breezing out a moment later, announcing to Bethany that you were going out for sushi and would be back in an hour.

“So basically you just want to play yourself,” you laughed, receiving a not-at-all angelic smile in return.

It was the first grownup relationship you’d ever had, you’d realized with a start that evening. You loved your friends and wouldn’t change a thing about them, but it was nice not playing therapist, having a solid give-and-take of support. Your first real adult relationship, and it’s completely one sided. Brava.

Still, you thought, when he slinked through the Melted Meeple’s doors that night, dropping into a chair gracefully and announcing he was officially a free agent familiar, you were glad for the opportunity to listen, knowing he’d be just as present and solid for you.

He shrugged at your repeated question. “Go to the agency on Monday, file for a new witch, I guess.”

“Does...does that mean you’ll have to move? What if they pair you with a witch on the other side of the world? What about the shop?”

His laugh was a dark curl, full of mirth. “Nothing archaic like that. This is where I live, the shop is my day job. We’re still business partners, but she’s quitting the craft entirely and I don’t have that luxury. The magic world is ninety percent bureaucracy and paperwork, it’ll probably be at least a year before they even get to my file.”

“Oh, that’s-that’s good,” you sighed in relief, not wanting to contemplate what would happen if he had to move away. “Good! You’ll have more free time now!”

Holt’s smile was wide, the light overhead winking off his fangs as leaned across the table. “And I know just who I’m going to spend it with,” he purred, before catching your lips with his own.

You hadn’t really known what to expect from the home of a familiar—a part of you was expecting some gothic lair with dripping candles and some ancient book of dark spellwork on a pedestal—but a completely average garden-level apartment on a tight lane of historic brownstones had not been it. The neighborhood was trendy: full of crowded little bistros with packed, street-side patios and bars boasting craft cocktails on swirling chalk signs outside their doors. You didn’t mind an occasional foray into adventure, but you couldn’t imagine living somewhere so noisy and bustling.

“Here we are,” Holt announced, tugging your hand and carefully leading you down the short stairwell in front of the dark-bricked building. “The neighborhood is great, but I love my little dungeon.”

You understood his meaning the moment the door closed behind you. The apartment was small but tidy, with plush-looking furniture and towering bookshelves, each crammed with curios, macabre trinkets and gimcrack. The street-level windows did little to illuminate the space, giving it a dim, cloistered feeling, amplified by the red-shaded lamps on either side of the sofa.

Long-fingered hands encircled your waist, claws dragging lightly over your stomach, sending a shiver up your spine and reminding you remembered why you were here. You were terribly aware of your own heartbeat when warm lips pressed to the back of your neck, hot breath and the glance of fangs moving over your delicate skin, and your head tilted on its own accord, giving him better access.

“It looks like a bordello in this place,” you mused, laughing when you felt his outraged gasp against your shoulder.

“Slander!” he exclaimed, the press of his hot tongue making your back arch, “calumny and lies. I demand restitution.”

It had been two weeks since he’d kissed you over your grilled cheese sandwich, two weeks of making out like teenagers and groping each other on the street corner every Saturday, two weeks of thinking about him every night, waking heated and flushed in your bed with an ache between your thighs and slick coating your fingers, and tonight you’d decided enough was enough.

He was steady and confident and reliable, but you’d noticed that he deferred to you in almost every matter. If you asked his opinion, he gave it; if you told him he was in charge of the evening’s plans, he already had one, but he let you control the direction of things rather than steamrolling you, and you wondered if it was something he was compelled to do as a familiar. You’ve got to be the one who makes the first move, you realized. Then he’ll take over and you can stop panicking.

“I think,” you murmured into his ear that night, as you sat on the edge of the gaming table, waiting to join in on the next round, “you should show me your apartment tonight, and we can work on your rolls.” The D&D campaign had started, and two sessions in the entire campaign had been entirely waylaid by a troublesome tiefling character who refused to follow the group’s initiative, and Holt had been smug that he’d not been the new player to cause problems.

“Hmmm,” he hummed, green eyes flashing, “we can do other things while we’re there.”

The apartment was dark, but somehow you were led to the bedroom without tripping over anything, the bedding beneath you cool and thick as Holt pressed you to your back. His eyes were glowing green orbs, rapidly growing closer until your lips were captured by his own, the kiss breaking off abruptly when he leaned over your body to turn on the bedside lamp.

“What do I need to roll for seduction?”

The bed rocked as he reached back from where he straddled your body, pulling off your sandals and sending them sailing across the room. “I’m serious!” he insisted when you laughed again. “This is a serious game, remember? I don’t want to be the one who gets the whole party kicked out of a tavern.”

“Well, if you’re serious,” you began, breath hitching as your top was pushed up your body, claws dragging over the newly-exposed skin, “then you should know you can’t actually roll seduction, it’s not a skill.”

“Oh, I beg to differ.”

You couldn't find fault in his words as your bra was deftly unhooked and pulled away, the heat of his mouth closing over the tip of your breast before you had a chance to be chilled. The tips of his clawed hand continued to move in soft patterns over your side as his tongue worked, teasing your nipple before sucking, biting ever-so-gently before releasing it with a wet pop.

“Are you sure I can’t roll seduction? I am a magical bard, after all.”

“Nope,” you corrected on a gasp. His mouth had moved to your other breast, giving it the same treatment until both nipples were pebbled and aching. “Seduction isn’t a skill. You can roll for deception, if you have ulterior motives.”

“Absolutely not. There you go again with the slander. What about...persuasion? Can I roll persuasion as a means of seduction?”

You unbuttoned the dark shirt he wore as he spoke, pushing apart the fabric to reveal the long, lithe shape of him above you. Broad shouldered but slender, Holt possessed none of the bulk the werewolf you’d gone out with a few times last year had. Tightly muscled and well-defined, your own clawless fingers moved down his chest, following the trail of dark hair down the hard plane of his stomach until you reached the thick bulge at the front of his jeans. The noise that emitted from his throat as you stroked the hard shape of him was very nearly a purr, and you smiled hugely, deciding to let him do his best.

“Sure, why not,” you smiled, pulling open his belt. “But I might want a perception check. Gotta check out your staff of persuasion first, make sure its on the up and up.”

You let out an undignified squeak when your skirt and knickers were pulled down as he rose, shucking his jeans before climbing over your body slowly, and you were clearly able to picture him as the giant, stalking cat you knew he occasionally was.

The soft drag of his claws over your thighs made you gasp, legs falling open, and the knuckle that pressed into your folds found you slick and eager.

“I’m glad you invited me to join the group,” he purred against your lips, sharp teeth catching them gently in a kiss. “Even if I don’t know any of the rules.”

The hard press of his erection was a molten heat against your hip and you shuddered out a breath, wanting to take him in hand but enjoying the press of his body against yours too much to force him to move. “I-I am too.”

Between your legs, his hand was buried against your sex. His sharp claws were tucked back, a finger on either side of your clit, knuckles kneading into the sensitive flesh until your hips were bucking upward to meet his hand, kneading and rolling, over and over until you were seeing stars. Pressure built behind your navel with every roll over the exposed bud of flesh, and you keened.

“I’m still having fun,” Holt went on, mouth stretching into a wide Cheshire cat-like smile, “and isn’t that the point of a game?”

The band of pressure snapped and you arched against him as throb after throb of pleasure pulsed through you. Your thighs tightened around his wrist, trapping his hand in place, and he hummed in amusement, fingers still moving as you gasped and shook, his lips pressing to yours lightly when you trembled with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“I’d like to seduce you, please,” he purred, waggling his dark eyebrows. “I’m being as persuasive as possible.”

His cock was still hot when you wrapped a hand around it, giving his shaft a firm pump, dragging upwards until your fingers reached his swollen head. “You really are a big cat,” you observed when the repeated motion drew a vibrating rumble from his chest, before edging closer to the foot of the bed. His smart-assed reply was lost to another rumble when you licked a broad stripe over his exposed head, laving your tongue over the bead of moisture there.

There were several rings of nodules at the base of his head, you realized, mimicking the sharp barbs he might possess in his cat form, and you wondered how they would feel inside of you. The sharp points of his nails dragged through your hair as you sucked him into your mouth, swirling your tongue before lowering your head down his shaft, bobbing your head several times before his clawed hands were tugging you upwards.

You were reminded of his speed on the day the black cat in the shop had gone darting off to the back room in a blink of an eye when he flipped you, you cheek pressed to the mattress as he kissed up your spine, raising your hips. You felt the leaking tip of his cockhead press to your slick folds, sliding up and down before finally pushing into you, hilting himself in one thrust.

You hadn’t intended on finding a relationship, only some fun new additions to your curio shelf, you thought as has pumped into you, those textured nodules dragging deliciously over your inner walls. Claws dragged over your skin as you clenched around him, unable to stop the moan which broke from your mouth. You hadn’t been looking for a relationship, but one had found you anyway.

When his hand found its way back between your thighs, you were lost. Already gasping with every thrust of his textured cock, as soon as the rough pads of his fingers began circling your clit, you felt your tentative control slip, your core clenching and spasming around him before you were filled with heat, his rumbling purr vibrating against you as he came.

The comforter was thick and soft when he pulled it over you, once he’d withdrawn and quickly cleaned you up. Thick and soft and incredibly warm, snuggled against his chest.

“I have a confession to make.” You craned your neck up to find Holt peering down, one of his thick, dark brows cocked curiously. “You can’t actually play persuasion or deception against another player’s character. Everyone has their own freewill and agency, it doesn’t matter how silver-tongued the party’s bard is.”

“Do you mean to tell me I wasted a perfectly good persuasion play?”

“It was unnecessary but not without merit!” you yelped as he flipped you to your back, giving you his best glower as he straddled your hips. “You’ve convinced me!”

“Oh, just you wait. I am going to cast so many spells on you once once we finally get out of the bloody tavern.”

The bed, you realized, had begun to levitate, and now hung suspended in the air as you squealed. He really was a magical, sneaky bard.

“You can’t do that either,” you laughed after the bed dropped, shaking the walls. “No spells on teammates.”

“There are too many rules to this game,” he griped, pressing his cheek to your breast. You wrapped your arms around him, pushing your fingers through his thick hair. Give and take. Solid for each other.

“You have plenty of time to learn.”

His purr vibrated against you before he wriggled free from your arms to fix the blanket, pulling you against him as he resettled. “It’s a good thing I have an excellent teacher.”

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