BOMBASTIC CRIMINAL side eye -

I can’t believe y’all made me put BAZOINKOS on a fuggin bUG P U P P E T

BRO WHEN I TELL YOU I DID A FULL DOUBKE TAKE ON THAY HOWDY DRAWING—

GYAT

Devouring your art rn

Honestly big bozonga howdy is probably the funniest shit I’ve ever drawn smhhh

Very helpful smh

Wally x gardener puppet? Idk the concept to me seems cute,,,,

the concept is SO cute!! I know it was just supossed to be wally x reader but i looove concepts for welcom home characters!! like, how would you interact with the neighboorhood? what stuff would you teach?

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wally darling x gen!reader (platonic or romantic!) + drawings

Gardener Puppet Reader

────────────

✧You're a puppet like Wally or Julie! Your little house is mostly took over by the garden behind it, and most of your segments take place in your work table.

✧You talk about...well, plants! Easy ways to start kids on gardening with plants like beans or herbs. Your segments crossover to recycling and all things around taking care of the planet.

✧For this reasons you would often appear with Frank when it got to talking about insects or more technicalities about plants like bees or their life cycle! With arts and crafts to reuse trash Julie and Wally would accompany you :)

✧When not in your house you could be seen taking care of the flowers around the neighborhood, stocking food on Howdy's store or bringing fresh produce for Poppy's baking segments!

✧Look!! Its You!!! (or just an outfit idea)

✧Only gray so you can decide the color palette. I also thought it would be funny for you to be a scarecrow but that i leave up to you.

───────────.★..─╮ Wally x Reader part!! ─..★.───────────╯

✧As said before, Wally would appear in your segments about recycled projects

✧I like to think that Wally is really good at all types of paintings but not so much with arts and crafts.

✧Everytime hes your co-host the camera will be looking at you doing an explanation of the steps, cut to wally and:

✧Home has pretty white flowers outside, so you take care of them :) A good couple of episodes start with Wally looking out the windows or getting out of Home and saying finding you there!!

✧One day you decided to gift your friends some pretty plants, and for Wally you decided on an Aloe.

✧He's so so happy with the gift!! He promises to take good care of it.

✧It was nothing really, Wally has always been a dear person to you. He was so calm and smooth and charming that you couldn't help but want to hang around him all of the time.

✧And it seemed he thought the same about you,

✧Your patience with his mess ups, your sweet words of encouragement, the care you took of Home so its flowers and bushes were always healthy made his heart melt!

✧That's why he looked so sad when you opened the door after you heard his knocking.

✧"I am so sorry y/n, the plant you gifted me died :("

✧He kept apologizing but you stopped him, telling Wally it was okay! It wasn't yours but his, and you didnt felt angry or anything.

✧"Aren't you mad at me?" "No, of course not! If anything, i'm more curious about how it got like that..."

✧You gave Wally an Aloe plant on purpose. He was a little uhhhh lost some times! head empty, so you choose a plant that would do just fine with little care.

✧But it seem he took too much care of the Aloe. It got like this thanks to overwatering.

"Its okay" you told him, holding his face on your hands. "You just worried too much for the little guy."

"Oh- haha, I ruined because I overdid it?"

"C'mon! You didn't ruined it. Lets go to the back, i'm pretty sure we can still save the aloe. This time i'm going to give you a better guide to take care of it."

His gaze softened, leaning his head to one of your hands. "That sounds nice..."

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can you tell how excited i got with this? can you tell?!?!?! it was so fun omg

PLEASE!! pleasepleaseplease send me more asks about ideas for you all self insert! tell me if you want a puppet or like a human costar like sesame street.

"NOTHING GOOD HAPPENS AFTER DARK"

RIDDLE R. v LEONA K. [MALE!READER]

ALICE IN WONDERLAND x RED RIDING HOOD [CROSSOVER]

WARNINGS: DARK CONTENT | YANDERE | VIOLENCE | PREDATOR n’ PREY | HUNTING | BLOOD | SUGGESTIVE | IMPLIED MURDER | PERSECTIVE JUMPS | SPECIES DISCRIMINATION | ETC | BE CAUTIOUS, BELOVED

T.MANOR: TRYING A NEW LAYOUT AND WRITING STYLE. ALSO, THIS IS PRETTY MESSY WRITING SO BE AWARE

| PART TWO |

| FEM!VER | GN!VER |

EVERY Tuesday, exactly at noon, does the stone clock tower chime. Without delay, you hear the sound of trumpets, the marching of hooves, as the golden gates of the palace open. Wide and big, as the card soldiers, in perfect position, march upon horses of black and white, wearing that of red with swords attached to their hips and spears within their hands. Preparing for the Queen’s weekly hunt. The crowd cheers, waves banners, as they yell sayings of good luck.

The cobblestone path is tight, crowded with people, big and small, infants to the elderly, all in hopes of seeing the benevolent Queen off. Even if this same celebration will happen next week as well. In seeing him in all his grandeur. Something you’d “sadly” miss, with your woven basket tight in hand, warm and heavy from the fresh baked delights, all from the Clover bakery. You shimmy through the tight crowd, moving in the opposite direction and were, quite frankly, in the way, even as you walk along the side house and store walls. You mummer ‘excuse me’ and apologize as you go, giving sheepish grins to those who spared you a glance.

You would rather be at home, yet you promised your mother you would go. You promised to go to the bakery, to buy your grandmother’s favorite treats and sweets and deliver them to her. She lives just outside the town and in the center of the thick woods, just on the other side in a small cottage in the middle of the northern woods. A journey you’ve made countless times, and on less crowded days. Yet today, your mother was extra worried, extra concerned for your grandmother’s well being. Even if you promised, you’d go first thing in the morning tomorrow. Yet she forced you anyway. Well, guilt-tripped you into going.

‘What if she’s already dead? Hm? What would you do then?’

Return home? Tell the authorities? Cry? Yet the look on her face told you she didn’t want any back talk, so you gave in and left.

You forced yourself further down the path, spotting the familiar opening that you’ve always taken. The town you live in is surrounded by a large stone wall. Tall and thick, with only one way out of the village, and one way in. Yet this impenetrable wall has a hole, fairly big, that anyone could fit their largest ox. So you had no trouble merely crawling or walking through. The alley that led to your secret path was uncrowded, as if waiting for you and you alone.

You shimmy forward, pushing past local residents. Some allowed room for you, having noticed you, others merely rolled their eyes. You pop your head past the road barricade, searching the long stone road. The card soldiers were far. Far away to where you could make it without interrupting them, or them even noticing you. You step over the thick string, glancing one more time, before you make haste. Darting onto the clear, wide road. Ignoring shouts and gasps as you make your way to the alley. Stopping to catch your breath, you turn around. Some of the crowd are merely laughing you off, others completely ignoring, some glared at you disappointedly, yet none made a move to call the guards on you. Your eyes scan the road. You hadn’t dropped anything, and if you did, you’re sure no one would even notice.

Slightly proud of yourself, you continue on, moving past the eccentric alley system, moving quickly past houses and shops, jogging towards the large wall.

You’d be fine.

══════ ♡ ══════

“HALT.”

The crowd becomes silent, and everything pauses. A send off has never once stopped. The Red Queen, golden crown glinting in the sun, his hand raised high. His horse stands still, the same confident and demanding energy as his owner, bows his head, as the Queen flows off the saddle. Heels clicking against the stone road. He walks forward, taking exactly five precise steps, before crouching, leather gloved fingers swiping along the stone. How he saw just a small thing, no one will ever know. The squished remains of strawberry cream cheese tart, a small delight. He rubs the cream between his fingers before rising just as quickly, holding out his hand for a napkin. It appears within a second. He turns on his heel, glaring eyes scouring the crowd, before landing on an older man.

“You! Who ran across here!?”

“Uh! I have no clue, your—your majesty.” He gives an embarrassed, clumsy bow, keeping his eyes glued to the ground. “Then you tell me?” The Queen looks at another, a young woman, who automatically stiffens her posture, face paling.

“A-a man! A young man. With—with a wooden basket and red cape.” The crowd nods along eagerly.

“In which direction?”

Multiple hands point towards the alley, all in fear to face the Queen’s wrath. With a single snap, five card soldiers appear by his side. “Search for the one with a red hood. Such disrespect shall not be tolerated.” There’s a chorus of ‘yes! your majesty.’ Yet not a soul moving til the Queen re-asummed his position upon his horse. “We will resume! While in search of this Red Hood!” His voice is thunderous, and as if nothing happened, everything returns to normal.

══════ ♡ ══════

The leaves crunch beneath your feet. As you continue your long trek, the path is winding and bumpy, covered in wild leaves and branches, the cobblestone hidden beneath the foliage. The basket sways within your hand as you walk and wander along the familiar path. The cool breeze flutters your crimson cloak, and you pull the hood to cover your head and protect your ears. Wishing to have worn pants instead of trying to be cute with your red shorts and white knee-length socks.

The Queendom is never cold, unless the Queen desires cold weather.

It always remains at the perfect temperature, always a warm summer breeze and a perfect summer day. And as you venture deeper into the woods and further away from the Queendom, the cobblestone path slowly crumbles and slowly turns to dirt. You stop at the threshold, glancing behind you. Something about today seems different.

You hope it’ll be a good day.

You venture into the woods.

══════ ♡ ══════

“Ruggie. I’m heading out. Ill be back.”

He lets out a low yawn, stretching his muscles as he walked towards the cave entrance, not giving Ruggie, his right hand, a chance to respond, leaving the hyena beastman to do whatever it is he’s doing. He pushes past the thick vines of the cave, leaving the warmth of the cave and giving a shallow nod to a young wolf beastman who currently was guarding the large camp, with the others like him. “Ill be back before dawn.”

“It’s noon? And the Queen and his guard is hunting today. Far from us, but still. Are you sur—” The lazy king gives a short wave, swatting away the beastman’s concerns, stifling another yawn, leisurely wiping tired tears from his eyes, while the wolf opened his mouth to speak.

“Jack!” The duo looks towards the urgent voices. Two young beastmen, a young tiger and an older bear, both you jogged frantically, seemingly having to run across the majority of the temporary camp. They slow to a stop, giving a quick bow to their pride leader before turning to Jack.

“The Queen’s Knights. Theres five of them! Theyre asking for you presence!”

“Of course. I’m on my way. Leona.” Jack turns to their sleepy leader, only to find the place where he stood empty. He’s brows furrow, before quickly giving up and motioning for the two to lead the way.

The Queendom of Roses and the Pride of Kingscholar. While the Queen occupies the Northern woods, the Kingscholar current occupies the East portion. Over months of arguments and fights, the Kingscholar Pride has been slowly forced to the outskirts and south, while the Queendom slowly takes over the North and East.

Jack and the two beastmen run side by side, running towards the end of the camp, coming across the five poised card guards. They all sit on white pristine horses, not moving an ounce as Jack slows and straightens out his white button-up shirt. “Where is Leona Kingscholar? We shall only speak to one of authority.” The voice is muffled by his thick metal helmet, clasping to his reins and swords.

“He’s away. What you need can be spoken back to him.” Jack crosses his arm, keeping a scowl upon his lips as the knight scoffs.

“I shouldn’t expect more from your kind,” Jack clicks his tongue but doesn’t speak, letting the knight continue, “There’s a human boy in red. He has ruined the Queen’s sendoff and thus must receive punishment. If you find him, you know best to hand him over immediately.”

“I have no such obligations.”

“Right—” You can hear the confidence in his voice, as he shifts the reins, getting ready to move, “It’s only best to consume your meat fresh. I hope you don’t get red fabric between your fangs, wolf.”Jack gives a low growl as the horse becomes spooked, rushing over, earning a yelp from the knight and gasps from the other silent four. They watch the group ride off into the forest, before letting out a huff.

“Jack. What should we do?”

The tiger beastman speaks first, which earns a thoughtful sigh from the wolf beastman. “Nothing. I’m sure Leona will find the boy before we do. Continue as you were.” Jack turns on his heels, rolling his shoulders as both boys shout and eager ‘yes’. This camp is only temporary until they reach the eastern mountain’s summit, and beyond that will be the savannas once you cross the mountains. Something Leona has been avoiding for the longest time.

══════ ♡ ══════

The farther you walk, the darker the woods get. Yet the twisting and winding path doesn’t lead you astray, a path in which you’re acquainted with. And as the trees grow closer and the leaves block the sun, it feels colder, as luminescent mushrooms and flowers that grow alongside the path glow in hints of blue and yellows, give you little light, while pollen that glows a soft purple flutters through the air. It’s absolutely enchanting, with towering thick trees and small sections which sunlight peeks through, highlighting the vibrant green plants and bushes. You hum softly, playing different games as you walk, occasionally eating one of your grandmother’s snacks.

“Youre quite far.”

You screech, nearly jumping out of your skin at the new presence of a voice. You look around and see no one. Your heart pounds against your ribcage. After a few moments, you left out a huff, slowly calming yourself.

“Especially during the Tyrant’s Hunt,” There’s a low chuckle that sends shudders down your spine and you look around frantically, “He might very well mistake you for a deer.” A rock zooms past your head, barely missing you and striking the tree behind you. Your body stiffens.

“Can you not speak?” It’s taunting and drawn out and you shiver as if ghost hands caress your body.

“What do you want—?”

“Now that is the question,” The voice lets out a low hum, and you hear the shuffling of plants, “I am quite hungry.”

You get a horrible feeling, and nearly trip, as something, or a someone, bolts through the thicket. A lion beastman. Before you can react, nails digging into your shoulders, and the new weight forces you to fall back, and momentum pushes you and him to roll over yourselves. Until you’re once again on your back, with the air from your lungs. Your eyes fly open, staring into amused deep emerald green eyes. You wince at the feelings of nails digging into your shoulders, close to breaking your skin and making you bleed, but he doesn’t. Only giving you the sensation of nails breaking skin. Your heels dig into the earth as you desperately try to regain your breath.

“Oh… Dont look like that. You act like I’m going to eat you. Well,” His hands move from your shoulders, letting you crawl backwards and away as he rested on the balls of his feet, forearms resting on his thighs as he tilts his head to the side. Eyes trailing you up and down, staring at the expansion of your bare thighs and legs, a low whistle slipping past his lips. “I might. In a more human way.” A shiver rolls down your spine as you use your cape to cover your legs. He visibly looks displeased as he looks at your face.

“Little Red Riding Hood on the run from the Queen.” He hums and youre eyes widen as you stagger to your feet.

“What? I didn’t do anything?!”

“Doesn’t seem that way,” his tail flicks lazily, his finger drawing in the dirt in clear boredom, “you somehow made the little tyrant mad.” He stands and you step away, he makes no move toward you. Green eyes gazing around the forest before stopping and landing on the path, in the direction in which you came. You follow his gaze and when you look back, the lion beastman is extremely close, his nose brushing against yours. You jump away and he rests a hand on his hips, while the other holds out your forgotten basket.

“I would get going little red. Unless you want to be headless.”

You take your basket and glanced the path, you could hear the pounding of hooves. You grimace before turning around, sharing one more glance at the beastman before darting down the path, back onto the road to grandmother’s house.

══════ ♡ ══════

There’s six. Six horses, five knights, one tyrant.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, kicking up dirt and letting out a yawn, he was pretty hungry. Maybe you’d and your grandmother might make a good snack after he’s done here. He counts the seconds before the Tyrant comes into view, an ever-permanent scowl upon his youthful face. He’s pristine and upon seeing Leona, he ordered his soldiers to stop and with ease slides off his horse and marches 10 steps before glaring at the Lion Beastman.

“Queen’s rules dictate that youre not allowed within the northern forest on Tuesday afternoons. In all honesty, I should send you and your pride further east for such disrespect of the Queens’s rules.” His words are venomous, speaking precisely that has his knights flinching even if the words weren’t for them.

“It’s Tuesday? I had no idea. Oops.” Using his pinky finger, he cleans out his ear with a bored expression, earning a harder glare as the Queen struggles to remain calm.

“No matter. Do what you want. I have more pressing matters.” He holds out his hand, and immediately, a parchment scroll is placed within his hands. The Queendom of Roses has always been the most efficient and quick. Undoing the rolled parchment and holding up the paper, your face was drawn most beautifully, a perfect reflection almost.

“Pretty isn’t he.” Leona furrows his brows, watching the Tyrant marvel at the photo, his nose scrunches in disgust.

“What are you on, Riddle?” Gasps and quick inhales come from the knights, yet the Queen doesn’t seem to mind, only few can call him by his name.

“If you must know. He disturbed my send off, and I assumed he was some ruffian. But to now see a drawing of him. He is quite cute and I am in need of a King,” He tilts her head with a gleeful grin, that seemed misplaced and lovesick, “Though I will have to break him in, make him more obedient. But I’m sure it’ll be worth it.”

“You truly are sick.” Riddle face morphs from love-struck to angry, rolling up the parchment delicately, before clearing his throat.

“I suggest you go. Unless—” A arrow shoots past Riddle’s head and grazes the fullness of Leona’s cheek before striking the tree behind him. Green eyes widen a mere fraction, and the tyrant beholds the tiniest smile. The card soldiers werent mere decoration, yet they arent that smart either. One of them must be a skilled huntsman.

“You know what I am capable of. I hate to have to make you my target instead.”

The leader of his pride rolls his shoulders lazily, with his thumb wiping away the blood on his cheek. “Absolutely. Id hate to make you angry. Know if you’ll excuse me, this lion is quite hungry.” And without another word, the lion stalks into the unknown of the woods.

══════ ♡ ══════

The path to grandmother’s house seems a lot longer than it usually does. Usually you’d be at her tiny cottage within an hour or two, yet it feels like days since you entered the woods and encountered the lion beastman. As if the forest was alive, living, breathing. As if the path beneath you were snakes whose bodies twisted and turned, knocking you off your feet.

You land with a hard thud, shaking your head. The forest is darker than before. How long has it been? You know the path and you know it well yet; you search your surroundings lazily, feeling as if you were submerged in thick oil, and the word seemed muffled. You spot vibrant red mushrooms that seemed to inflate before releasing a thick white gas. Hallucinations. They’re carnivorous mushrooms, but they’re never active during the day, nor on the path. Theyre new. As if purposely planted, but that’s ridiculous.

And it couldn’t possibly be night.

No.

You struggle to your feet, gripping the basket and meandering.

Walking.

Walking.

Walking.

Walking.

Walking.

Walking.

Walking.

Until a beacon.

Off to the side of the path, nestled in between two large trees, if you walked further down the path you’ll come across the small cottage village, with her golden porch light, was your grandmother’s house. With her stone walls and wooden roof were covered in moss and mushrooms, while her red painted door was visible. You pick up your pace, stumbling occasionally as you reach her rickety wooden porch, a wide grin upon your lips as you knock on the old door.

“Grandma!” You call through the wood, yet no reply. You grab the gold doorknob, turning it and slowly pushing the door inside, letting yourself in.

It’s the same as you remember, with the fireplace on, with fresh logs. There was no collection of dust, and the couch looked recently sat on. Her throw blanket and decor pillows were out of place. You close the door behind you, slipping off your shoes, and placed the basket on the dining room table. While undoing the strings of your cape and calling out to your grandma. You move deeper into her home, before reaching her bedroom. You knock.

“Oh, darling! I’m feeling quite sick, but come in. Come in.” Her voice sounds the same, and your tense shoulders drop, as a smile spreads across your face as you open the door. Only to find her bed empty and made, with the window wide open. You step further into the room, looking around, before you hear a soft click and you spin around, only to find the lion beastman from before. He isn’t looking at you, but instead squeezing a small bird.

“Mimic birds are quite useful. Able to mimic to the voice of anyone and anything once they hear it.” He releases the bird, and it frantically flies out the window. You step back. “You—My grandma!” You suck in a panicked breath and the man only shrugs. Striding his way towards you, his hand moving faster than you could comprehend to grab your face and squeeze your cheeks.

“What do you think—” His free arm slides around your waist and forces your close, you try to push him away, “I did. Maybe I ate her. Gobbled her up like a big bad wolf,” He faux pouts before clicking his tongue and rolling his eyes in personal annoyance, “Or lion, that fits better doesn’t it.” He shakes your head aggressively, speaking like a mother would to a child when they’re fussy,

“Maybe ill eat you up. Wouldn’t you just like that—” He lets you break away with a laugh, watching your glare, and he tilts his head and eyes moving out the window.

You can hear horses.

ⓒ 2023 love-thanatopsis — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited.

WHERE Y/N SUGGESTS THAT they should move dorms because of their living situation in a dorm meeting..

And everyone starts fighting over who's dorm they should join.

GENDER NEUTRAL READER
— REQUESTED BY ANON

© cupids-chamber, do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

Presenting (Part 1)

Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan x Familiar!Reader (Separately)��

PART TWO

**PLEASE READ CONTEXT FOR FAMILIAR READER HERE**

Genre: Smut

Summary: When Familiars are in heat, they will occasionally “present” to their mate or potential mates to entice them. This can involve many things: stripping, exposing parts of the body such as the chest or thighs, posing in provocative ways, and much more.

How do the older brothers react when you present to them?��

Reader is male

Content/Warnings: Catboy reader, sub reader, mentions of heat, sort of shy reader, mentions of scent��

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio!��

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors��

Lucifer��

Lucifer spends most of his time at home at his desk, so of course that’s where he was when you walked in. You peaked around the door sheepishly, tail swaying slowly behind you. 

“Yes, Familiar?” Lucifer asked. He hadn’t even looked up at you, it was as if he sensed you there. 

You didn’t reply. You walked over to his desk and stood by his side, silently asking for his attention. This managed to get him to look up at you, and when he did he almost did a double take. He immediately picked up on the sweet smell, the one you only emit when you’re in heat. 

You were wearing one of his button up shirts, and beneath it was only your boxer briefs.

Lucifer couldn’t help but stare for a moment, but he managed to snap out of it before it became awkward. 

“Ahem…Do you need something, familiar?” 

He said as he swiveled his chair towards you. 

Still you gave no reply, but you did move towards him slowly. You climbed up and into his lap. The entire time, Lucifer hardly moved a muscle. 

You settled on top of him and looked up at him with those adorable doe eyes you knew he couldn’t resist. He let out a shaky sigh, just loud enough for your twitching ears to pick up on. 

Then you moved your hands to the hem of your shirt, gripping it tight as you carefully watched Lucifer’s face for any sign of opposition. When you found none, you began to lift. You were in no hurry, letting him take in every inch of newly exposed skin as it appeared to him. 

You put the fabric between your teeth, biting down and keeping it lifted above your chest. 

Lucifer’s eyes flickered with something dark as they met yours. He merely stared down at you for a long few moments, taking in your perfect form. He reached out a slow hand, resting it on your side, dragging it upwards and making you shiver under his touch. It rubbed over your chest before falling down to your navel, tracing the thick ring of fur around your neck that tapered down at your stomach before filling out into a thick happy trail that disappeared into your shorts. His hand stopped just short of the waistband before pulling away.

You were clearly presenting to him. 

‘Flattered’ would be a monumental understatement. 

“If you were in heat, you simply could’ve told me, you know.” He muttered. Both of his hands laid on your hips now, giving a small squeeze. 

You purred in response, letting the soft rumble vibrate in your throat. 

Lucifer leaned in to plant a soft kiss on your forehead, warm breath fanning over your skin as he spoke. 

“If this is your way of enticing me to mate, I’m more than happy to oblige, little familiar.” 

Mammon��

As usual, Mammon was simply wasting time. He flipped idly through a magazine, TV playing whatever trash reality show he had chosen in the background. He was very good at getting deeply invested in nothing. 

His focus was suddenly broken by the sweet smell wafting into his room. 

He looked up, glancing around in confusion when his eyes landed on his calendar. It was the last week of the month, which meant is was the prime time for—

Oh.

That smell was you. 

As if on cue you came trotting into his room, shutting the door behind you. Your hands were hidden in the sleeves of the oversized sweater you were wearing, which squeezed around your thighs just perfectly. 

He sat up straight, eyes locked onto you as you meandered over to the bed, long tail moving to and fro lazily as it followed you. 

You sat in front of him, looking up at him through your lashes. He was trying to stay calm and keep his tough guy persona on, but with each breath he took he inhaled more of your scent, and it was driving him crazy already. 

“Oh, uh, h-hey! Wasn’t expecting you, familiar. Usually you text before visiting…” He said with a forced chuckle. His face felt so hot, he was sure you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. 

“I know, but there wasn’t any time…” You replied softly. 

You put your hands on his knees, spreading his legs enough for you to sit between them. You slowly dipped your head downwards, keeping eye contact with the very flustered Mammon the entire time. Your lips just barely brushed over the bulge in his pants which was only becoming more prominent each passing second. 

“H-Hey, what d’ya think you’re doing?” Mammon chided, but his words did not match his behavior. He spread his legs even more for you, his magazine long forgotten on the floor. He didn’t even realize it had fallen.

Your tail waved straight up in the air, and you made sure to arch your back, showing off the way your shorts constricted around your ass. You wiggled your hips playfully, teasing the demon. You stayed still, allowing Mammon to take you in in all your glory.

“Oh, what are you doing…?” Mammon groaned, hiding his face in his hands. You were being so shameless! You were supposed to be the flustered one, not him! 

And yet, your delicious scent surrounding him combined with the sight of you behaving so pliantly made his ears go hot. 

When he didn’t say anything more, it was your turn to speak. 

“Be my mate, Mammon?” 

Your question was barely above a whisper, but it was more than loud enough in his ears. Finally he worked up the courage to pull his hand away, placing it gently on your head and scratching behind your ears. 

“Sure, familiar…You can have The Great Mammon as your mate. But ya gotta promise to warn me the next time you present like that! Nearly gave me a heart attack…No, no! Don’t stop!”

Leviathan��

Normally Leviathan hated being interrupted when he was deeply invested in an episode of whatever anime he was into at the time, but when he realized it was you standing in his doorway his demeanor completely changed. 

“Oh, it’s you! Come sit down!” He insisted, patting the bed next to him. “Quick, before you miss the good part!” 

You happily obliged, settling in next to him and leaning your head on his shoulder as he rambled on about the plot of this episode. 

“You should really sit down and watch it with me sometime! You’d love it, really. I just got to the big season two twist, and I don’t wanna spoilt anything, but— but…b-but…” His voice fizzled out, an odd sense of nervousness washing over him. It took him a moment to realize what it was, but when he did he nearly fainted. 

He turned towards you, taking a small sniff of your hair to confirm his theory: 

You were in heat, and he could smell it all over you. 

He was already getting hard in his pants, becoming incredibly aroused in an embarrassingly short amount of time. He squeezed his legs together tight, trying his best to be subtle about it (although subtlety was never his forte). 

Even the smallest bit of affection or flirting was enough to shut Levi’s brain down. This was a whole new level. Like, a Mega Boss Battle type level. Times a million. 

One of your hands wandered to his where it rested on his lap, interlocking your fingers and giving his hand a gentle squeeze. It was a small gesture, but it was enough to pull a whine out of him. 

“U-Um, familiar? Are you s-sure you should be here right now?” He stuttered, eyes darting all around the room. He was looking for any excuse not to make eye contact with you. 

“Do you not want me here, Levi?” 

The question was genuine, that much was for sure, and it sent Levi into a mini panic. 

“Of course I do! I-I always do! Not that I, like, t-think about it or anything, s-so why even bring it up? Haha..hah…oh god—“ 

You couldn’t stifle the small giggle that arose at Levi’s frantic over explaining. Fortunately, you knew the best way to get him to shut up. 

You moved in front of him, putting your hands on his chest and gently encouraging him to lay down. He was in no position to deny you, so he obeyed. 

He swallowed thickly as he stared up at the ceiling, trying his best to keep his breathing steady and fully process everything that had just happened. He didn’t have much time, though, as soon he could feel you moving around on the bed. 

When he got the courage to lift his head you were straddling his waist, facing away from him as your tail flicked side to side in an alternating rhythm. His hands gripped hard onto his sheets. 

You began lowering your upper body, slowly crawling outwards with your hips still resting firmly over Levi’s. He shivered at the slight friction it caused, reminding him how desperately his hard on needed attention. Once you had settled into a comfortable position, you let out a small, high pitched sigh of content. 

If anyone knew about catboy behavior, it was Levi, and he certainly knew when he was being presented to. He’d imagined a scenario like this a few times before, but it didn’t hold a candle to the real thing.

He made sure he took in every detail; the lovely swell of your ass, the delicate curve of your back as you arched it, the way your nails dug into the sheets the same way his did. 

God how he wished he had a camera on him. He would keep that photo forever. 

“Levi…?” Your sweet voice called out as you looked back at him. He finally turned his attention towards your face, although he was still unable to look you in the eyes. 

Everything about you was tugging at his heart strings. Even in moments like these, you managed to be adorable, and it was too much. 

“Oh, goodness…” He mumbled, “I-I’ve never been…presented to before…” 

A shaky hand reached up to gently wrap around your tail, toying with the sensitive appendage. Levi didn’t miss the small mewl you let out at the touch.

“You’re…You’re so pretty, sweet boy…I would be honored to be your mate.”

if enough people request it i might make a part 2

Presenting (Part 2)

Satan, Asmodeus*, Beelzebub, Belphegor x Familiar!Reader (Separately)��

PART ONE

**PLEASE READ CONTEXT FOR FAMILIAR READER HERE**

Genre: Smut

Summary: When Familiars are in heat, they will occasionally “present” to their mate or potential mates to entice them. This can involve many things: stripping, exposing parts of the body such as the chest or thighs, posing in provocative ways, and much more.

How do the older brothers react when you present to them?��

Reader is male

Content/Warnings: Catboy reader, sub reader, mentions of heat, sort of shy reader, mentions of scent, mentions of pegging in Asmo’s segment

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio!��

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors��

*Asmodeus is AFAB and uses he/she pronouns��

Satan��

When Satan heard the new familiar was a cat, his heart swelled. Ever since you showed up, he had doted on you twenty four seven. He even had your heats marked on his calendar, along with lists of everything you would need, and he made sure to carve out time to spend with you during those weeks. 

He had stayed home the entire day; you both knew it would start today, but there was no telling exactly what time, so you were both going about business as normal.

Up until now, that is.

Satan smelt you before he saw you. Your sweet scent was unmistakable, imprinted on his brain. It sent a shiver down his spine. 

You didn’t have to say anything when you walked in, or shut and locked the door behind you, or crawled into bed with Satan. 

He happily opened his arms to you, and you wrapped him in a warmer-than-usual hug. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, lips brushing over his skin as you purred. Satan stroked your back softly with a tender hand. 

“Need me to tend to you, pretty kitty?” He asked in a low voice. 

“Mhm…” You hummed in response. 

You pulled away from him, instead opting to plant yourself on his lap. It was then he noticed the cropped shirt you were wearing. It showed off your adorable tummy just perfectly, along with your thick happy trail. His eyes traced the fur all the way down until it disappeared into your shorts. 

Your tail thumped against the mattress as your hand slid under your shirt. It slowly lifted it above your chest while the other moved to the waistband of your shorts. Satan watched intently, taking in every inch of skin. 

You held your shirt above your chest, allowing Satan to run a hand over the ring of fur around your neck. Your shorts, which he could now see had nothing underneath, were pushed down just enough to tease him. Even the slightest bit more force would release your hard on from its confines. 

You let out a shy meow, ears pressed flat against your head. 

Satan grinned down at you, bringing a hand up to pat your head. 

“Presenting to me, hm? There’s no need to entice me, although I am incredibly flattered, I’ll always be your mate, and I’ll always take care of you.” 

Asmodeus��

One of the most important things in Asmodeus’ routine was his daily shopping outings. Of course, that’s where he was the day you started your heat: out. 

He had originally planned to stay home, really he had, but this was a last minute decision. It was just supposed to be a quick run, really! But she got so distracted by each new shop…

Suddenly she felt her DDD vibrate in her pocket, and when she saw it was a text from you, she nearly fainted. 

My Familar💕

Asmo, please come home. I need you. 

He had never dropped a shopping outing faster. 

The heels of his shoes clicked loudly against the dorm tile floors as he rushed down the hallway. Fortunately she had long since become an expert at running in stilettos. 

“Familiar? Sweet baby, where are you?” She called, but she got no response. You weren’t in the common room, you weren’t in your room, you weren’t in any of the rooms he passed…

That only left one possibility. 

He swung open the door to his room with a call of your name, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight before him.

You were on all fours in the middle of his bed, facing away from him. Your back end was up in the air, tail swaying above you. You were wearing the itty bittiest little pair of shorts that squeezed around your ass perfectly. 

She couldn’t help but let out a small gasp. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth as she gawked. 

“Asmo…need you…” You pleaded softly as you turned to look back at him. 

How could he ever refuse those teary, desperate eyes? Or that perfect, pliant body? Or that wonderful, wonderful smell that seemed to surround and overtake everything? 

“Oh, my sweet…” She cooed as she walked over, running a hand over your bare back. “Presenting to me so shamelessly…you must be desperate…” 

He moved towards his dresser, running his fingers down the drawers before pulling the bottom one open.

“I’m so, so sorry for neglecting you, baby. Let me make it up to you with my favorite strap-on.” 

Beelzebub��

Beelzebub was always one to pick up on more than he showed, and this was no exception. He knew your heat would start today; not only had he been planning for it the past few days, but he had been attached at your hip since this morning, always having an excuse to watch over you. Not that you minded, of course. 

Fortunately, it seemed his little plan would pay off. 

You were laying in bed together watching some movie that you had both seen a thousand times, although Beel was more focused on stuffing his face with popcorn. He groaned when he reached into the bucket and felt nothing. 

“Aw, I finished the movie snacks already…You don’t happen to have anything, do you?” 

You shook your head in response. Beel sighed, but really he wasn’t that upset. He snuggled in closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

He took note of how restless you suddenly became when he pulled you in close, and they way your tail thumped quickly against the bed. 

“Hey, you alright?” He asked, but he got no reply. 

You shifted again, this time moving to sit in front of him. That’s when your wonderful scent hit him like a truck. On instinct he took a deep breath in, nearly intoxicated by the smell. 

“Oh…D-Did you—“ 

You shushed him before he could finish. 

You placed yourself between his legs, holding onto his hips as you lowered your upper body. 

He knew immediately what you were trying to do. 

Your head ducked down as you nuzzled against his bulge with a soft mew. Your shirt slid down revealing your bare back as you arched it, as well as the base of your tail. You knew how to make yourself look irresistible to your mate.

Your tongue lolled out to give a small kitten lick over Beel’s bulge through his pants. Goodness, you looked more delicious right now than any meal Beelzebub had ever laid eyes on…

“O-Oh gosh, I…I knew this would happen, but damn...I didn’t think you’d ever present to me…guess you really need me to take care of you, huh? Go on, then. Show me what you need.” 

Belphegor��

Belphie was rarely ever roused from sleep by anything short of the entire dorm collapsing, and yet every time you were near it always woke him. This time was not an exception, although he picked up on your scent first before he was completely awake. He sat up as he spotted you in the doorway. 

“Hey, familiar…you need something?” Belphegor asked, voice slow and lazy. He yawned and stretched, patting the bed next to you and inviting you to sit down. 

You did sit down, although the bed was not your seat of choice. 

Instead you climbed into Belphie’s lap, putting your hands on his chest and pushing him to lay back. He complied, although his expression let on that his interest was most certainly piqued by your behavior. 

“Something wrong, familiar?” 

It was a disingenuous question; he knew what was wrong, but he wanted to see what you had planned. He had heard about the possibility of familiar’s ‘presenting’ to mates, and he was eager to see how far you would go. 

You sat right on his hips, giving a few subtle grinds. His hands came up to rest on your waist, fingers drumming against your soft skin. 

One of your hands moved to your chest, running down it slowly. Then to your stomach, then past your navel…

Then it dipped under the waistband of your shorts. 

It wasn’t much, but it was more than enough to get the message across. 

“Belphie…” You mewled, making sure he could see every movement you made beneath the fabric. 

You could feel his cock harden underneath you, nearly making you flinch. He stared at you for a long few moments, mouth hanging open wordlessly before curling into a grin. 

“My, my…that needy, hm?” He teased, and you nodded in response. 

“I see…you’re quite cute when you’re like this, you know…how about you keep going? Present to me like you mean it. Show me what my pretty little familiar has to offer.” 

if demand is high enough i will make a part 3 with the dateables

Heroes vs. Villains : The Staff

Platonic GN!Reader x NRC Staff vs. RSA Staff Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. NRC Staff Version (Part 1: Crewel and Crowley)

ie. Headmaster Crowley is a nightmare, and Professor Crewel is, well, cruel. And to be perfectly honest, after meeting another dog-loving professor who doesn't treat you like absolute garbage, the Royal Sword Academy is starting to look a lot more appealing.

[PART 2]

‘Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me!’

Crowley had chirped that very sentiment to you ad nauseum, with all the enthusiasm of an old raven eyeing a shiny penny.

“Do you really believe that?” you sniffled, angry, as you sat slumped over in one of his rickety office chairs.

People at this stupid school were mean. And yeah, school yard insults and casual accusations of being the House Wardens’ little bitch were one thing—but these assholes would go right for the throat. All of your insecurities—your fears—all laid out like a nice spread of hors d'oeuvres ready for the picking. You had endured enough sharp barbs for a lifetime, and the fact that your glorious Headmaster and self-proclaimed parental figure kept writing it all off as a ‘learning experience’ was driving you mad.

“Of course I do, dear child!” he beamed. “What sort of educator would I be if I didn’t practice what I preach! Words are but the wind, as they say!”

You nodded, sage, and shot him a smile so sugary sweet it could rot the teeth right out of his skull.

“I wish I’d never met you and I hope that all your feathers fall off one by one,” you chirped. “And I use the ‘Number One Child’ mug you gave me to scoop water out of the toilets when the plumbing fails.”

Crowley’s mouth fell open with a nearly audible clunk, and if he weren’t so wrapped up in all kinds of immoral, black magic, bull-shittery, you would have liked to imagine that maybe that had been the sound of his heart cracking in his stupid, embroidery-covered, chest.  

You popped up from your chair and breezily made your way to the exit. You propped yourself up against the intricate, wooden, frame and clapped your hands together like a bubbly preschool teacher addressing a room full of particularly dull children.  

“I’m glad we could get that out in the open in a completely pain-free way. Words really can’t hurt anyone!”

You managed to slip the door closed just as he started to wail.

.

.

That afternoon you made your way to Professor Crewel’s office, as had become your routine. It was nice. Sometimes you would help him grade papers, sometimes you would just nibble on fancy cookies and listen as he ranted about the incompetence of certain staff members which shall not be named.

Sometimes his dogs were with him in the afternoons—a pair of giant, lithe, wolf-like beasts that were most certainly of a very proud and expensive lineage. Jasper was the black one and Badun the white, and each had a coat so glossy and well-maintained that they could put your own hair care to shame. Badun was enthusiastic, charismatic, and would bound to greet anyone who entered. Jasper was more quiet, reserved, but he was secretly your favorite of the duo. Whenever you stopped in after classes, the shadowy hound would lumber over and rest his giant head in your lap.

“No puppies today?” you called when you were greeted with silence rather than a wave of happy kisses.

“They’re in for their groom,” Crewel mumbled, busy at work with his head bowed over some lab reports or other. Normally he would grouchily correct you that his two precious pooches were adults. Dogs. And should be addressed as such. He must have been really distracted today. Or maybe you were just wearing him down.

You settled into the lovely, plush, chair off to the side that you had long since claimed as your own, and set your bookbag on the floor by your feet with a thump.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence with nothing but the sound of scratching ink over paper to break up the monotony, Professor Crewel dropped his head into his hands with a miserable sort of sigh.

“You should not have spoken to Crowley as you did.”

You blinked, startled. “What?”

“I of all people understand how frustrating the Headmaster’s antics can be,” Crewel continued, firm. “But you are still a student of this Institution—and one in a precarious enough position as it is. So you need to be mindful of your tongue.”

Indignation roiled through your gut, followed by a sharp prick of disquiet that you couldn’t quite place.

“Then he should be mindful to treat me like a student and not some—some pet project,” you huffed, kicking irritably at your patched backpack for want of nothing else to do. “And besides, what’ll he even do? Expel the one person in this entire college who mops up every single one of his messes? And I mean, it’s not like he’s running around the school crying or anything. I wasn’t that mean.”

Crewel pinched the bridge of his nose and you paused, mouth parting in surprise.

“Oh come on, he did not.”

“In the name of preserving our esteemed leader’s dignity I will say no more on the matter,” he grit out, and you fought the urge to immediately whip out your phone to message Ace, and Cater, and every other rabid gossip you could think of.

“Well, maybe he deserved it,” you snipped, crossing your arms stubbornly across your chest. A bit of cautious warmth spread through you and you nervously plucked at one of the loose threads on your uniform sleeve. “And besides,” you mumbled. "He can cry about me calling him a shitty father all he wants. You’ve been way more of a dad to me here than he could ever try to be.”

���I beg your pardon.”

You froze, fingers locking in place around the picked-apart edges of your jacket. The ice in his voice was unfamiliar and entirely unpleasant. It sent a frigid wave of worry curling through your veins. Had you overstepped? You’d thought—You’d just thought—

“I-I mean,” you spluttered. “I only meant that, well… Uhm… You’re really nice to spend time with. A-And, I just…” He made you feel like you were home again. Like even though Ramshackle was empty and cold, that you could still walk into this little office and say ‘I’m back!’ to an actual, real-life person and not just the shadows that lived in your foyer.

“Let me be perfectly clear, Prefect,” he sneered. There was an undercurrent of hostility running so sharply through every word that you were left wondering frantically if you’d unintentionally trampled over a sensitive topic. You hadn’t thought it was a big deal. You just—you just really, really looked up to him. And felt safe with him. And—And—

‘I’m sorry,’ you wanted to say. But instead you just let out an odd kind of choked squeak.

“I have no intention of playing parent to anyone,” he snapped. “Let alone an untrained brat who can’t even be bothered to play civil with the people who do attempt to care for them.”

Ouch.

“R-Right,” you spluttered, swallowing around the burbling lump in your throat and the warmth prickling along your lash line. “O-Of course. I’m sorry for assuming. I—I… uhm…”

‘I’ll just go then.’

But just like with failed apology, those four little syllables just couldn’t seem to make it past your lips either. So instead you just shakily snatched your bag from the floor and bolted from his office, burrowing your stinging cheeks as far into your collar as they would go. The last thing you needed to do was give anyone at this stupid school any more ammunition against you. And ‘Cry Baby Prefect’ sounded like another nasty nickname that would stick to you like gum to a flat-heeled shoe.

It’s fine, you whispered to yourself, voice wobbling far more than you would have liked. Grim hated when you came back smelling like dogs anyways.

.

.

“My goodness, are you alright?”

You blinked, harried, and glanced around yourself properly for what felt like the first time in hours. You were�� not on campus anymore. Huh. What a trip. You’d never been so upset that you’d blindly run off into an entire new town before. But you supposed there was a first time for everything. You did remember feeling too nauseous to return to your little hovel for the evening, but you hadn’t really expected your frantic pacing to take you quite this far out of the way.

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

Oh. Someone was talking to you, weren’t they?

Standing in front of you was a tall, lanky, man in a tweed jacket. He was stooped down a bit to make eye contact with you, and those hazel eyes were creased with worry. His blonde hair was pushed half-off his forehead in a style that looked more haphazard than intentional, and the hand he was offering you was littered with splotches of ink. There were patches of white and black dog fur littered across his entire outfit like some horrible fashion statement, and the thought of puppies made your throat tighten up all over again.

“My name is Cliff Rogerson,” he said, steady and kind. “I’m one of the instructors at the Royal Sword Academy. Are you lost? Do you know how to get home from here?”

Do you know how to get home?

You laughed once, manic, and then promptly burst into tears.

“Oh, dear,” he sighed, his heavy brow furrowing low with concern, and patted you consolingly on the shoulder. “Oh, dear.”

You were herded into a nearby café and directed into one of the quiet, corner, booths. The lights were soft and fuzzy in here, and the pleasant warmth of fresh pastries brushed gingerly along your frayed nerves. Mister Rogerson pressed a steaming mug of hot chocolate into your hands, and placed a delicately wrapped muffin off to the side of it. It was a tempting offering, and you decided to unbury your head from your hands long enough to partake.

“So how did you end up out here, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’m a student at Night Raven,” you mumbled into your cocoa.

You could tell he was doing his best not to look shocked, which was at least a dozen steps above the way the rest of your stupid school would just gawk at you in outright consternation.

“Forgive me,” he smiled, gentling his apprehension into something that was more polite curiosity that anything. “But you don’t really seem like one of their usual pupils.”

So you explained your situation—the Mirror, and the magiclessness, and the homelessness. You talked about your friends, and your new demon cat/evil baby, and how much you missed stupid things like good shower pressure and fuzzy socks. Mister Rogerson listened to all of it with an attentive sort of sympathy that you hadn’t seen since, well, probably since you were dropped face-first into a school full of burgeoning war criminals.  

“That sounds like a time and a half,” he said once you’d finally tired yourself out. “I’m sorry you’ve had to go through all that.”

You picked at your muffin. It was ridiculously fluffy and eating it felt like pulling bits and pieces out of a cloud. A very, very delicious cloud.

“Forgive me for saying so,” he hummed, pensive. “But your situation doesn’t sound particularly safe.”

You laughed. “That’s one word for it.”

Mister Rogerson frowned, another twitch of that uneasy worry playing across his face. He ruffled around in his jacket pocket for a moment and pulled out a neat, cream colored, business card.

“It may be overstepping of me to offer, but at the same time I do think as an educator it’s my duty to try and help every student that I can,” he smiled, kind. It crinkled the skin around his eyes. “The RSA is not overly far from Night Raven College. If you ever want to stop by—if you ever need an ear to listen, or just a space to get away from it all—my door will always be open to you.”

You took the little piece of paper carefully, like it was something precious. There were swirls of colorful music notes splattered across the backdrop of it—raucous bursts of neons that were as endearing as they were ugly.

‘Tacky,’ spat a too-familiar voice in the back of your head. ‘What sort of statement was this lowlife trying to make?‘ You could practically feel the phantom distaste emanating from wherever a certain two-toned professor had camped out for the evening.

Probably at home, you thought bitterly. Because he has a home, right? And you are not at all upset that you will never be welcomed into it. And that you will probably never get to cuddle his puppies ever again. Nope. Not at all.

You swallowed the little burst of unpleasantness that accompanied the train of thought, and pocketed the card with a smile.

“Thank you. I’ll definitely have to take you up on that.”

.

.

.

Divus Crewel was many things, and unfortunately, being as cruel as his namesake was often one of them. He glanced back to the clock ticking on his wall for what was perhaps the dozenth time that hour. You hadn’t been by since his��ah—outburst a few weeks prior.

He had perhaps reacted a bit more unpleasantly than he normally would have. You’d just… caught him off guard was all. It was a bold declaration you’d made, and what? Had you really expected him to be overjoyed by the idea of forced parenthood? To swoon over the notion that someone had decided to latch onto him and his perfectly pressed suit like a leech despite the fact that he was so obviously thriving in his life of solitude?

And it wasn’t that he expected you to take his biting comments lying down. Oh no. You were fierce, and determined, and were most likely on your way here to bang down his door demanding recompenses for all your suffering. There was a tray of those too-expensive cookies you liked tucked away in his top drawer. Just in case you did show up and throw one of your tantrums, and he needed something quick to pacify you. That… That was all.

But each day that he waited for you to sneak back into his office was another spent in quiet solitude. Badun had taken to whining at the door and Jasper hardly got up from his bed at all—just tucked his black nose into his equally black paws and stared straight into Crewel’s soul. Like he was judging him.

He caught himself glancing at the clock again and forcibly turned back to his work.

This was ridiculous. You were ridiculous. And stubborn. And so, very, danger prone. Had something happened maybe? Was that why you’d disappeared—because you’d gotten caught up in some sort of trouble again?

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick���

He looked back at the clock.

Tick. Tick. Tick���

His office door flew open with a BANG and he swiveled in his chair, ready to chastise you for making such a ridiculous entrance. Instead, he ended up nearly nose-to-nose with a weeping Dire Crowley. The man wailed into his clawed hands, looking very much like he might accidentally stab himself in the eye all the while.

“HOW AM I SUCH A FAILURE OF A PARENT?!” he bawled. “WHAT COULD I HAVE DONE TO PREVENT THIS?!”

“What?” Crewel gaped, head spinning. “What’s happened?”

Crowley let out another inhuman squawk and shoved a piece of parchment into the alchemist’s crimson-gloved hands. It was torn at the top, likely from where it’d been pinned to something before the raving Headmaster had swiped it. Crewel read over the familiar script with narrowed eyes, something unpleasant twisting in his belly.

‘The Ramshackle Prefect kindly sends their regards, but unfortunately has other commitments for this evening. Please contact Professor Cliff Rogerson of the RSA music department in case of an emergency.’

“MY BABY LEFT ME!” Crowley sobbed, nearly inconsolable. “WHO’S GOING TO DO MY TAXES NOW?!”

The leather of Crewel’s gloves groaned in protest as his hands tightened into fists—his nails biting into his palm even through the sturdy material.  

“What do we even do?” the old crow lamented, sounding so genuinely crestfallen it was almost unnerving.

Jasper and Badun circled their master’s ankles wearily, eyes bright and lips twitching with nervous whines.

“I think,” Crewel grit out, the note crumpling between his fingers, “that it’s well past time that we have a chat with the Prefect about the importance of personal safety. And of the consequences of running off with strangers.”

.

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Heroes vs. Villains : The Staff [Part 2]

Platonic GN!Reader x NRC Staff vs. RSA Staff Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. NRC Staff Version (Part 2: Crewel and Crowley)

ie. Mr. Rogerson has awesome dalmatians and his wife makes even better cookies. Meanwhile, Crewel continues to be an emotionally constipated mess, and Crowley is... himself.

[PART 1]

You were met at the door by a pair of over enthusiastic dalmatians—the chaotically cute duo sending you ass-first to the office floor in a merry greeting that was more of a graceless tackle than anything else.

“You brought Poe and Perdy!” you exclaimed, laughing past the face kisses.

“Well, they’d never forgive me if I didn’t,” Mister Rogerson huffed good naturedly. “Do you know how much this little nutter cried when I came home the other day and he realized you��d been by? Ages, I’m telling you. Thought he was going to pout me into an early grave.”

You squished both of them affectionately and showered the lovely, spotted, beasts with every compliment under the sun.

“Oh! Before I forget…” the professor rustled around in his leather messenger bag and retrieved a neatly packaged pastry box all bundled up in a colorful, twine, bow. You accepted the treats happily and removed yourself for the dog-pile to take your usual place on the well-worn piano bench. “Annie made you some more cookies, seeing as you liked the last ones so much.”

“Did you help?” you asked.

“Hmm? What makes you say that?”

You held up the first treat from the pile—half-singed on one side and squishy with raw dough on the other.

“You caught me!” he laughed, and retrieved a second box. ��These are from Annie. Those are my failures.”

“Such horrible lies,” you tutted, dramatic. “Trying to trick an innocent victim into ingesting poison just so that you can keep all the good ones for yourself.”

“Hey, they’re not that bad!” he defended, taking a large chomp out of one of the less charred looking of his creations. Immediately his cheeks went nearly green. “Or… maybe they are.”

You pushed a water bottle in his direction which he accepted gratefully. There was always a stash of them just to the left of his composer’s stand, and another hoard in a conspicuous looking storage cube closer to the piano at which you’d perched yourself. There were more sweets hidden in his desk drawers too, for when something stronger than water was needed to wash away whatever awful thing he’d tried to ingest. You knew where a lot of ‘secret’ things were in this room. It felt nice, to be so privy to all its little treasures.

“You know,” he smiled, finishing the last of his water with a final gulp. “Annie keeps pestering me to have you come by for dinner.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” you hesitated, looking around the room where so many of your little odds and ends had already started to accumulate. Empty mugs, the patch that had fallen off your jacket, the thread which you’d intended to use to fix said patch. Just… little footprints showing you’d been by.  ��Well, any more at least.”

“Nonsense,” Mister Rogerson laughed. “You’re more than welcome! But we don’t mean to pressure you, of course! Especially if you’re busy! Just something to think about if you’d like. Anyways, how has your day been?”

And thus began your afternoon ritual. You would sit and split Annie’s delicious cookies as you rambled about your various grievances. Mister Rogerson would inevitably come and take a seat beside you on the piano bench and start playing some gentle strains of this or that—‘just little things he was working on,’ he’d said. Occasionally you’d accidentally lean on the keys, throwing the whole thing into a cacophonous mess. But he would just chuckle and replay whatever the piano had just screeched, calling it a ‘fascinating addition’ and merrily jotting bits of it into his notes. It was nice. Better than nice. And you didn’t realize just how comfortable you’d become in your daily chitchats until you’d become perhaps a bit too comfortable.

“It’s just been so exhausting. And on top of all the other ridiculous things, I��m so sick of that fact that it��s like my job to be their personal punching bags or whatever when they’re Overblotting all over the place, and—”

The piano cut off abruptly.

Mister Rogerson’s hazel eyes had gone wide, as if he was spooked. Immediately you realized that you’d said something that you should not have.

“There are students at Night Raven College who have Overblotted?” he asked, slow, like he couldn’t even believe the words were coming out of his mouth.

“What? No. Of course not!” you lied, like a liar.

���Kiddo,” he frowned, stern. “You just said—"

“—I mean, not one’s actually Overblotted, Overblotted,” you spluttered hastily, rifling frantically through your brain for every plausible excuse you could cough up. “It’s more that I’ve heard a lot about Blot, and how it becomes a—you know—Overblot. Which sounds really scary, and like something that I never, ever, want to actually see! And it’s just that everyone there is a mess, so I guess I should I have said that I���m more just worried about Overblotting.” 

A pause.

“Which, again, I’ve never, ever, actually seen.”

More silence.

“…Ever.”

Mister Rogerson sighed, apparently relieved by your bullshitting, and slumped forward over the piano keys.

“That’s… That’s good. You really scared me there for a moment, kiddo. Overblots are no small matter. They have to be reported to the proper authorities and dealt with accordingly. It’s a whole fiasco, and paperwork and legal proceedings aside, it’s dangerous.” He laid a gentle hand across your shoulder. “I’m just glad you haven’t been anywhere near something like that.”

You swallowed a chunk of wayward cookie, hoping you didn’t look horrifically guilty. But then some other part of what he’d just rattled off stuck in your head and that shame was wiped away by panic.

“They’d be taken away?” you whispered, something unpleasant and nervous curling in your gut.

Mister Rogerson looked down at you with a sympathetic wrinkle to his brow. He squeezed your shoulder reassuringly.

“I know it sounds scary, kiddo. But that’s what we have to do to keep everyone as safe as we can. Does that make sense?”

You thought of Riddle, crying into his hands after years of emotional neglect—and then of the pair of you sitting in the Heartslabyul gardens after all was said and done, eating strawberry tarts with your fingers like little children. You thought of Leona, miserable and bitter as he was, finally breaking after an entire lifetime of feeling like nothing but a failure who slunk about in his brother’s shadow—and then how just last week the beastman had been lounging in the sun with his head in your lap, grouchily demanding your leftovers. You thought of Azul, and his bullies, and his stupid desire to take on the world just to prove he could. You thought of all the friends you’d made, and of just how many of them really needed a goddamn therapist. You thought about them being taken away to who-even-knew-where. Where you’d probably never see any of them again. And where you wouldn’t even know what was happening to them.

General grumpiness with the lot of them aside, your friends were the one, genuine, beacon of warmth in this miserable, cold, new world. Sure, they were all assholes. Mega assholes. But you knew that they’d stand by you through anything���do anything, if you needed the help.

 And the idea of giving up on them? Just like that? Because it was protocol?

Your stomach roiled and you set the cookies off to the side.

“I’m sorry if I’ve upset you,” Mister Rogerson frowned, taking in whatever unpleasant expression was no doubt twisting your face into knots. “We shouldn’t talk about it anymore. It’s not a fun topic.” He slid a new page of sheet music across the piano’s sleek, black, shelf. “Here. I started writing this the other day. What do you think?”

Strains of upbeat jazz threaded through the room and Perdy and Poe came over to mouth playfully at your ankles—no doubt begging for crumbs. Soon enough you were laughing along, clapping off beat and making jokes at the expense of his nonsense lyrics. You still liked Mister Rogerson. You liked him a lot. And you didn’t doubt that he was a genuinely kind person.

You’d just… maybe have to be a bit more careful about what you let slip.

.

.

“It’s kinda like being in therapy,” you explained to a very frustrated looking Deuce. “Like, how you want to say just enough to get help but not enough for them to throw you into an asylum. You feel?”

“What in the fuck are you on,” Ace gaped.

“See, if any of you actually even knew what therapy was, you’d get it.”

“I still can’t believe that’s where you’ve been every afternoon,” Deuce frowned, poking at his lunch with a consternated sort of look on his face. “Don’t you—I don’t know…”

“What?” you asked.

“Feel horrifically guilty and maybe like you should be burnt at the stake?” Ace complained, reaching over to swipe a fry from your plate. Grim hissed and swatted at his fingers—his little mouth stuffed too full of your half-eaten burger to yell much of anything else. “You’re a traitor, that’s what you are. Prancing around with those goody-two-shoes in their stupid, shiny, building every damn day like a—like a—”

“A frog?” Deuce suggested.

“What, no. Dude—”

“Frogs prance!”

“Frogs fucking jump, you ingrate—”

A heavy box landed on the table with a THUD, sending the quarrelling duo into silence. A mountain of homemade chocolate chip cookies stared back at them, nearly sparkling in their brilliance.

���Yes,” you intoned, stern. “It’s worth it.”

���It’s worth it,” Grim and Ace agreed heartily, already busy swapping their lunches for sweets.

Deuce sighed and reached for his own cookie. “If you’re sure...”

.

.

Being called into the Headmaster’s Office was not something with which you were unfamiliar. In fact, Crowley not having summoned you into his gloomy chamber over the past few weeks was more of an anomaly than not. Normally he was hurling new jobs at you left and right—organize this event, Prefect. Pick up my groceries, Prefect. The main hall is looking a little dirty, Prefect. Go stop my students from committing mass murder, Prefect. Maybe your wave of insults had rattled him enough to leave you alone for that little while. Or maybe he’d just been biding his time until he could think of something equally as nasty to say back.

Of all the things you were expecting upon trudging back into that office, a scowling Professor Crewel was not one of them.

You blinked owlishly, taken aback.

“Good afternoon, Professor.”

His lip curled, sour, and you fought the intense and suicidal urge to ask him just who’d pissed in his cornflakes that morning because damn. You hadn’t even done anything. That you could remember. Maybe. And besides, if either of you had any right to be acting all bitter and pissy it was you. Not Mister ‘I Have No Intention of Playing Parent to Anyone.’ The memory had your eyes stinging and your blood boiling all over again. When neither of the men deigned to greet you, you cleared you throat irritably and crossed your arms.

“Can I help you with something, Professor? Headmaster?”

“It has come to our attention that you’ve been sneaking off campus in the evenings,” Professor Crewel declared, with all the civility of an off-grid hermit. “Which I’m certain that you are fully aware is against school policy.”

Crowley just nodded, stiff lipped and robotic, and his silence immediately had you suspicious.

���Well?” Crewel snipped. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

You took a deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. Then another.

You smiled, icy. “Then I’m sure this is just another infraction to add to my file. Which I’m very sure totally exists. Right, Headmaster?”

Crewel’s dark glower swiveled in Crowley’s direction, and you watched the Old Crow audibly gulp.

“Because of course, you keep proper records on all your students here,” you continued, happy to push your luck. “Especially the ones in special circumstances, and whose documentation is therefore not automatically forwarded to you by their previous schools. Right, Headmaster?”

You’d never seen a more apt demonstration of the expression ‘sweating bullets.’ It was intensely satisfying. Professor Crewel looked like he was heavily debating turning Crowley into a feather boa. After a too-long moment where you were pretty sure you were about to witness a murder, the two-toned professor sighed and turned back to you with a stiff sneer.

“It’s not safe,” he said, and you gaped at him.

���What?”

“It’s not safe,” he repeated, practically grinding his teeth. “What were you even thinking? Leaving Night Raven when you know full that you have no other connections in this entire world! Running off with a complete stranger on top of that.”

“Mister Rogerson isn’t a stranger!” you defended, resentment bubbling beneath your skin. How dare he? Now he cared? Now you weren’t just a leech, or a brat, or—or—No. It wasn’t fair. “And it’s not like I ran off into the woods or something! I’m at another school!”

Crowley slammed his clawed hands down onto his desk with a metallic BANG!

“AH-HAH! YOU ADMIT IT!” he howled. “YOU’VE BEEN GOING TO THE ROYAL SWORD ACADEMY BEHIND OUR BACKS!”

“I left you a note telling you that was exactly where I was!”

“YOU’VE BEEN CONSORTING WITH OUR ENEMY! AND AFTER I’VE WORKED SO HARD TO RAISE YOU AS MY OWN!” He wailed, inconsolable. “ARE YOU TRADING OFF MY GRIMOIRE TO AMBROSE, TOO? WOULD YOU STOP AT NOTHING TO SHATTER MY POOR HEART?!”

“I don’t even know what that means, but I wish I was!”

���Enough!” Crewel snarled, cracking his pointer across the desktop. “Both of you!”

“But he—!” you defended.

���Detention!” he barked.

���What?! That’s no fair!—”

“Detention!” he snapped again. “Three weeks!”

“Are you joking?! I didn’t even do anything!—”

���Four weeks,” he growled.

You pressed your lips shut, feeling your mouth wobble and your eyes warm with frustrated tears.

“Yes, sir,” you finally managed to grit out, and then turned without another word and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind you.

.

.

.

‘That may have been too much,’ Crowley had the gall to say to him, after Crewel had just watched the man have an entire meltdown in his desk chair and accuse you of outright subterfuge.

‘That may have been too much.’

The alchemist had watched, carefully stone faced, as your eyes had welled and you’d glared him down with a look that was a step or two past betrayed. Something tightened uncomfortably in his chest, and he refused to put a name to it. Naming things gave them power, allowed them to grow and spread. Like a tumor. This was all your own doing, and the subsequent punishment was clearly for your own good. So, what? He steps a bit too far and says something that’s perhaps just a bit too cold, and you go running off to—to Cliff Rogerson of all people? Pettiness is not an excuse for making poor, stupid, unsafe, decisions. And he would have certainly responded to any other student in exactly the same fashion.

‘That may have been too much.’

Crewel grit his teeth and fought the urge to run his hands through his hair in frustration. Normally he could use Badun as a stress ball, but he’d stopped bringing the dogs to campus when you’d continued to refuse to show up to his office. It had stressed them terribly, and it was unfair to force them to sit through the same, dull, solitude that he had to endure just on the off chance that you may change your mind and come wandering in. Jasper hardly acknowledged him at all anymore—only grumbled at him miserably when he returned in the evenings before curling up by the fireplace for the rest of the night.   

‘That may have been too much.’

It… It really, probably, was. And he really should… apologize, shouldn’t he?

Divus Crewel could deny it all he liked, but he knew well and good that he wouldn’t have treated your classmates in such a manner. That unnamed twinge behind his ribs may have influenced his reaction a bit more than it should have, especially when he himself had so clearly relegated your place in his life to ‘by professional association only.’

So he forced himself to straighten his fur coat and start the trek to Ramshackle. It was a grueling walk, with broken pathways and rivers of mud. No wonder you were always running late to things. Perhaps he should bring this up to Crowley, and—

A familiar face stopped him in his tracks, and a wave of red-hot irritation worked its way through his veins as efficiently and viciously as one of the poisons he was so keen to brew.

“Oh,” Cliff Rogerson blinked back at him, “Divus! Good to see you.” It was not. It didn’t sound like Cliff thought it was either.“No need to call campus security or anything. I’m just here to pick up the Prefect for dinner.”

���Dinner?” Crewel repeated. It sounded bitter in his mouth.

“Annie’s making lasagna,” Cliff stage-whispered, like a secret.

“Can we get going?” you called and Crewel startled, noticing you off to the side for the first time. You looked so… small, for some reason. Hunched, maybe. Just, not your usual larger-than-life self—the Otherworldly Hero who showed up swinging to every fight, always armed to the teeth and ready to duel any monster, every horror. It made something in his gut twist unpleasantly. “I’m starving.”

“Of course, kiddo,” Cliff laughed and tossed an arm across your shoulders.

“How lovely,” Crewel interrupted, trying and failing to force the steel from his voice, “But I think that maybe you should reexamine your professional priorities. That hardly seems appropriate.”

“Oh, come now,” Cliff smiled. It wasn’t friendly. “It’s only dinner. And besides,” he chuckled, and gave your arm a fond squeeze, “Annie and I have always wanted kids.”

‘I have no intention of playing parent to anyone.’

A deep, cold, sort of dread rattled through Divus Crewel’s bones and settled all the way in the pit of his stomach. It was similar to the sensation that had been slowly clawing its way through him these past few weeks—the very same unpleasantness that he had refused to name.

‘You know,’ Crowley’s grating voice swam through his head once more. ‘That really may have been too much.’

.

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Cultural differences

Summary: Malleus's way of courting (dragon fae style) creates a misunderstanding between the two of you.

Or in which lilia is an old man™ and is having the time of his life.

A/n: In honor of the announcement of chapter 7, I decided to post this early. May all of you dragon simps get your dragon man. (it's me, I'm the dragon simps)

Genre: fluff

Pairings: Malleus Draconia x reader

Warnings: second person pov, you/your pronouns, gn!reader

"Lilia, child of man doesn't make sense." Malleus was munching on fries, with a pout on his face. He was apparently, what lilia called 'sulking'. Let me assure you he was not! Absolutely not!

Lilia brought up his hand to his face to stifle a chuckle that escaped him at the sulking fae prince, who put another one of the fries in his mouth.

Lilia finds situations like these quite entertaining, he loves observing the youth of today. They are peculiar, to say the least.

Though lilia understands malleus's crisis, he couldn't help but be amused.

After all, how many times do you see a powerful fae at his knees for a magic-less human he befriended in an abandoned building.

"Well, tell me what happened," Lilia said with as much seriousness he could muster and put his teacup down.

Malleus' eyes lit up and he visibly perked up about getting the chance to talk about how he have been trying to court you.

"I took prefect for a walk with me in the woods behind ramshackle where we danced to once upon a dream." He lets out a dreamy sigh, his chin resting on the back of his hand.

What a wonderful night that was.

The sky seemed jewel studded with how many stars there were. Your warm hand in his considerably colder ones. An impulse to hold you closer. So he asked you for a dance to which you delightfully agreed, blush adorning your face. He will never forget the night when you two sang the greatest love song in all of the twisted wonderland together while dancing.

Eyes his went to your lips many times, but he was afraid he would scare you if became too bold so he restrained himself.

"It was good until that but then I tried to give them jewels from my treasury as a token of my affection, but they keep refusing! I don't know what I've done to anger them. I just wish to mend our relationship, lilia." Malleus let out a defeated sigh his lips formed into an adorable pout.

Lilia knew the meaning of the word treasury, what malleus really meant was his hoard. Like every good dragon, malleus has a hoard as well. It has all of the knick-knacks malleus collected over the long period he has been in twisted wonderland.

Let it be jewels worth millions of madols or a weird thing he found on the street, all of them has a special place in his hoard. He was allowed to take a part of it with him to Night Raven College when he came, the rest is in his treasury room in the palace of Briar Valley.

Lilia, who was far older than Malleus and well aware of human courting traditions, couldn't help but laugh endearingly at the young prince. He then adjusted his expression, looking fondly at the child he had raised, who had now become so old that he has his first love!

Oh...Lilia distantly remembers the feeling of falling in love for the first time, he doesn't remember his first love anymore, for their existence had been erased by the cruel, cruel time that doesn't spare anybody, but he does remember how he felt with them and how gentle they were with him.

At the time he was a battle-hardened General, a war hero, not exactly used to kindness, but he remembers that they were far kinder than anybody he had met before, even now after a few centuries later, he has yet to meet someone like them.

Lilia pulled himself back from memories of long forgotten past and turned to his prince.

"Malleus, they are human." Lilia said simply.

"I am aware lilia, I still dont see what I could have done to have them cross with me." Malleus gave lilia a half-hearted glare.

"Malleus, they are human. You are trying to court them like how dragons court their mate. They don't know how dragons court their mate. They aren't familiar with your courting methods." Lilia nodded towards malleus sipping on his tea, and malleus' eyes widened in realization. Of course! How could he have been so foolish!

Malleus shot lilia a grateful look and said a simple "thank you." And headed out to find you. He must fix this. He has to.

So, you weren't even aware that he was trying to court you? He let out a chuckle.

Of course, why didn't he think of it before? Oh yes, he was too engrossed in drowning in his misery that he didn't notice.

Well, he supposes it's not all lost, after all. He could just explain things, but ah! Humans don't receive precious jewels as a confession of their feelings.

He does have other ideas as to what to give you.

You were coming back from your class, after a long and exhausting day. Professor Trein had given you to write a ten-thousand-word essay on The Human-Fae War that happened in early 1300's.

Your face bloomed into an amused smile as grim grumbled about ace taking his sandwich. You let out an exasperated sigh. They may be idiots, but they are your idiots.

You got grim settled in the bed quickly. He was complaining about not getting enough sleep the whole way back and got yourself settled on the couch in the living room.

You took out your homework, your assignment sheets as well as books you've borrowed from the library and got to work.

It was fascinating really, how two species that hated each other so much could come together like this. Humans and Fae...they have a long-standing history of hate and slaughter. It's gruesome.

The war went on for almost a century.

You were halfway through the essay when, from the corner of your eyes, you saw green fireflies shimmering in your garden. You abandoned your work to greet your friend who, you're pretty sure, has been avoiding you for the past few days.

"Tsunotaro."

"Child of man."

The two of you stared at each other for a minute. Trying to read each other, either by expressions or literally trying to read thoughts in Malleus's case. (He would never do this without your permission, but he was contemplating it)

"Look I-"

"Child of man I-"

"...."

"You go first."

"You can go first."

You scratched the back of your neck with an air of awkwardness surrounding you.

"Okay...tsunotaro, I don't know what I did so that you got mad at me but I am sorry."

Malleus' eyes widened in bewilderment.

"Child of man...I thought you were cross with me." You thought he was angry with you...? A small tender smile formed on his black-painted lips. A smile that was much different from his usual teasing smile followed by a taunting remark. How the corners gently tilted upwards, a sparkle in his eyes that reflected an emotion you couldn't yet place, but you were sure that your eyes reflected the same.

Small laughter bubbled out of his mouth, and not being able to help it you let yourself chuckle with him.

The sound of his laughter was so alluring that you were left wondering whether he had put a spell on you.

Little did you know he wondered the same about you. You had either bewitched him or he was a fool, a fool in love.

"Well, then, I shall make it up to you, beastie. Would you do me the honor of granting me your company for a stroll in the woods once again?" Malleus asked, gallantly. He was quite over the top with his dramatics -posing in a bow, holding out a hand for you to take- while smiling teasingly.

"I would love to, tsunotaro." You couldn't help but chuckle at the dragon fae's antics. Taking his arm you strode along with him to the woods behind Ramshackle.

A gentleman as ever, Malleus produced something in his arm but hid it behind his back before you could take a peek.

"Hey! No fair!" You pouted, seeing your adorable face the future king couldn't help but smile endearingly.

"You shall wait patiently beastie. Patience is a virtue," he said as you strode towards your and Malleus's special place.

He had taken you there for a walk before once. It was a beautiful, beautiful night. Perhaps you should say magical.

Malleus had taken your hand and invited you for a dance. Holding you close like you were the most precious treasure he has ever held. Spinning you around like a fairytale prince (which he was). Your eyes went to his dark-painted lips many times that night, wishing to have a taste of what you thought to be the most forbidden fruit this world had to offer.

You danced and sang one of the songs from your home. Your eyes went to your eyebrows in surprise that the very same song existed here. Malleus seemed fond of the song as well. You could see his bright green eyes soften every time a word of the lyrics left his lips.

"We are here," he announced. You looked around, finding it hard to imagine such a place could be near the desolate place you had come to call your home.

It was a mountain stream. Beautiful, clear water flowed down the steep grades. Shining moonlight above it, making the water in it shine like stars had been brought down to earth.

"Child of man," Malleus quietly pulled you out of your daze. "I brought this for you." He said, but before he could bring out whatever he had been hiding behind his back, you fixed him a stern look.

"Mal, I told you that I can-" before you could say another word, his hand-that he had placed upon your mouth- cut you off.

"I know," Malleus began with an uncharacteristically tender look on his face. "Lilia explained that humans do not court as we do. So I have brought you this." He removed the hand from your mouth and brought out a bouquet from his back.

They were gorgeous, the flowers. The bouquet consisted of red and pink asters. You chuckled, you couldn't have picked more perfect flowers yourself, they were gorgeous but not enough to distract you from the meaning of them and his words from before.

Seeing your joyous reaction, Malleus's eyes filled with hope. "Child of man, I-" he started but before he could get out another syllable, you put your hand on his mouth and cut him off. Amusedly watching as his eyes widened in surprise, clearly not used to people cutting him off, especially in such a familiar manner.

"I would love to, Tsunotaro."

--

I wish I had a malleus.

Edit: for clarification pink asters mean sensitivity and love and red aster means undying devotion

Ah, well. This is from me. But please write how yandere Malleus and Rollo Fremier are both coveting the same darling because the Masquerade event is just getting good! And we have a lot of MalleusxMC content.

Just… please creepy, lusty Rollo and jealous, possessive Malleus. It’s bad enough Malleus is being duped, now he wants his darling?! Rollo will literally be roasted-

Okay, so warning. I have yet to do the masquerade event outta pure laziness, so this is simply how i personally view him. So be warned. But thank you for the request bestie <33

━━･❪ Hell Fire ❫ ･━━

❁ Published: 11.12.2022

❁ Rollo Flamm X GN!Reader X Malleus Draconia

❁ Word Count: 1.5K

❁ Rated: Mature

18+, Dark Content, Yandere, Perverted, Possessive, Spying, Masturbation, Alcohol, Stealing, Spying, Etc. Proceed with Caution, Dearest.

“Tell me, how does someone like you? End up in a place such as NRC?”

The flames of the fire flicker and wave, as you sit in front of them. Watching the red and orange flames dance freely. He stands behind you, the shoes of his heels clicking against the stone flooring as he nears you. You ignore him, your fingertips messing with the sheer fabric of your masquerade outfit, your mask placed aside. Over the crack of fire, you can hear the orchestra play.

"I do not take kindly to being ignored." His icy hands touch the flesh of your cheek, searing you so that you automatically flinch. Yet he doesn’t let you crawl away, pulling you into his chess, shushing you as if you were a wild animal. "Shhh… I’m not going to hurt you…" His voice is hot against the shell of your air, attempting to lure you into false safety.

"I truly just want an answer. What makes you so special?" His hands move, forcing your face forward, forcing you to stare into the flickering flames as if they spoke in hushed whispers. Before stilling completely at the sound of the heavy wooden door being knocked upon.

"Answer." His voice is quiet and threatening. He shouldn’t be here and he knows that. Your lips quiver as you speak, your voice cracking.

"… Yes?"

"Prince Malleus asks for you." The voice of a guard. His grip on your tightens, a low ill-intended chuckle vibrating through his throat. "Tell him you're on your way." His voice is filled with amusement, squeezing your cheeks painfully.

"… Oh.. Tell him ill be on my way…"

"Alright." The room falls silent as the sound of heavy steps moves away from the door. The man drops you, standing up on his feet, watching your lay helplessly. "I do hope we can speak again." He leans down, sliding the thin blue sparkly sheer scarf from your form, wrapping it around his hand, and exiting the room just as silently as he came.

Your gazes move up to the flames, slowly sitting up, and exhaling. You bring yourself up to your feet, adjusting your clothing, your hands sliding over the place where your scarf once was. You simply have to make do without it. You grab your mask, placing it on your face, grabbing the water bucket, placed in the corner of the room.

Putting out the flames.

━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━

The Masquerade ball is lively.

Malleus’ hand gripping yours intently, leading you through the crowd. "You seem worried." His voice snaps you from your thoughts, turning your gaze towards him and not the various masked faces. "I’m fine." Your voice is curt and you can tell he looks worried behind his mask, moving to where both his hands hold yours.

"You can tell me anything. If something worries—"

"I’m fine. Malleus. I promise." You pat his hands, though you know he doesn’t believe you as he holds onto your hands tighten. Malleus looks over you, before landing on your waist, his eyes slightly darkening. "The blue scarf. It’s missing." Your stomach drops as he locks eyes with you, taking a step closer.

"Malleus—"

"I do hope that I not interrupting." Turquoise eyes stare at the scene before him, watching the way yours widen and Malleus’ eyes seem to almost glow in disdain. "Monsieur Flamm, not at all. [Name]’s scarf is simply missing." Malleus speaks, and Rollo tilts his head. Mocking concern, glancing at you for a millisecond. "I could possibly be able to help. If you were to, perhaps describe it to me."

You open your mouth, stepping forward in panic before Malleus pulls you back to his side. Snaking an arm around your waist. "Blue and sheer." His words are curt and venomous. Raising goosebumps on your skin.

He thinks to himself, his eyes seeming to brighten up as he looks at you. Pulling from his pocket, he reveals the scarf. Though it’s different, not the one you wore before. Malleus without hesitation, before Rollo steps back. "Ah. Ah. Ah. A good deed shan’t go unrewarded."

"It’s a scarf—"

"A dance! Yes. Thank you, I’m just so clumsy. But a dance, is that okay?" You cut Malleus off with faux excitement, ripping from his grip and taking the scarf from the noble bell college student, wrapping it around your waist and tying it sloppily.

"A dance. It shall suffice." Rollo takes your hands within his own, pulling you towards the ballroom floor, leaving Malleus standing stiff as a statue. Rollo pulls you into his embrace, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other holding your hand.

"So eager to dance." He speaks slowly as the music starts and you both begin to dance.

"Why do you keep bothering me?"

"I simply wish to know you. Is that a crime?"

"If it includes you stealing, spying, breaking into my room, being a headache. I could go on." Your voice is firm and agitated, squeezing his hand to show your resentment, which only brings an amused chuckle.

"Ce n’est que le début. Bien d’autres choses vous attendent. Be overjoyed that I haven’t done worse. Wouldn’t wish to make your dragon further upset. That be a big dilemma for you to alleviate." His voice has a dangerous edge, silencing you as he pulls your impossibly close. You twirl and dance around the ballroom, silent as a mouse. Saying nothing to the man you dance with.

"Tell me. Have you figured out an answer to my question?" The music ends, and yet he doesn’t relinquish his grip. Speaking into your ear, his gaze locked onto a glowering dragon.

"I ended up at NRC. Like anyone else. The mirror called me." Rollo seems satisfied, taking a step back, his gaze moving down to your scarf, tugging at the fabric, making it tighter around your waist. You hear thunder crackle.

"Do your best not to lose it repeatedly. Many would do well to not return it and instead keep it, for such—" He pauses, his hands rising to pinch your cheek, his eyes swirling with something lustful. "Unholy acts." He steps back, his amused grin replacing with something smaller, almost unnoticeable.

"Enjoy the rest of the night. If you so desire a dance, do find me." He leaves with a curt bow. Before you can turn around, you sense Malleus’ towering stature. He undoes the scarf, holding it in his hands as he watches Rollo disappear before finally speaking.

"Stay away from him for the rest of the night."

He scorches the scarf to ash.

━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━

Rollo Flamm pities you.

Feeble you. Soiled by the impurities of Night Raven College, tarnished by dirty hands of the several unruly dorms. He leans against the velvet of the couch of his study, a glass chalice in hand, swirling crimson red wine. The clothing from the masquerade stripped aside, dressed in something more comfortable.

The original scarf he had taken from you, hanging delicately off his desk armchair. He rises from his seat, humming a melody from long ago, reaching his desk. Papers scattered across, they were reports about you. Any that he could get his hands on.

He glances from his desk and out the large windows of his study. The light of the room in which you were staying in was on. Showing your outline, you were changing. A soft sigh rolls off his tongue, placing the glass down, and sliding into his chair, wrapping the scarf around his neck and over his nose. Slowly inhaling.

He watches you calmly. It was like you were dancing. As if you danced from him. He hums, tilting his head to the side, feeling drowsiness take over. Almost lulling him to sleep, with the dull buzz of wine. Until a noticeable figure for joins you. The prince of Briar Valley. Pressing you against his form, your silhouette merging into one as he furiously kisses you.

Rollo’s eyes widen, his breath becoming trapped in his throat. He clenches the scarf in hand, watching the intense scene unfold before him. You don’t attempt to push him away but pull him closer. He can't tear his eyes away, his pants growing tight. He runs a hand through his hair. Tugging at his waistband and swallowing thickly.

The fires crackle wildly and dangerously, speaking and mocking the man the sits at his desk. His eyes glues to the shadow scene before him, as if a magician had cast a spell. Cum soiling the sheer scarf, twitching in the warm air. As the man leans back in his chair, watching the shift and molds of your body's making love, chest heaving.

He nearly jumps from his seat, as if emerald green eyes peered at him, fully capable of seeing him and the shameful actions he committed.

Taunting his treasure. Rollo Flamm makes a vow.

He will have you one day. A sinful man like him will pull and pick at every fiber of your being. And you will love him.

Mais si vous choisissez de le renier et de vous enfuir, il prendra une allumette et brûlera tout le NRC.

Until the day he captures you.

Love-Thanatopsis 2022. Do not copy, modify, use without permission, or otherwise plagiarize in any way.