#cedar scribbles

[cedarsmoke4]

Okay my writing brain is simultaneously extremely exhausted/borderline burnt-out and also working on several different ideas at once, so there’s a HOT chance I’ll never get to this concept, but I’m writing/rambling the (extended) idea here so it’s out there—

Consider: You’ve repeatedly had terrible luck with auto mechanics, to the point where you’re absolutely desperate for genuine help. You’re sick of having to fight through the hoards of lying salesmen who are trying to trick you into paying exorbitant prices just because they can tell you’re not car-savvy. You want someone who doesn’t even look at your face, someone who can just figure out what the fuck is going on with your vehicle and can fix it for a reasonable price. That’s it.

Cue your friend telling you that they’ve heard from a friend of a friend who’s heard of someone, a reliable source tho, that there’s a guy who can fix anything, and fix it fast. He’s just weird. And abrasive. And rude. He doesn’t sugar coat or extort, and he barely even pays attention to you if you bring him something. The problem is, he doesn’t have a phone, and he doesn’t work specific hours, or even specific days. Also, his shop is in the middle of nowhere. If you go there you’ll just have to hope you catch him, and if you don’t, sucks to be you.

So you take the address from your friend and drive your shitbox down increasingly abandoned looking country roads until you arrive at what looks like a very large, run down garage. Scrap metal litters the yard outside, everything from old iron bathtubs to what looks like the shell of an ancient military tank. Youre desperate enough at this point that you’re willing to risk the potential rabid serial killer who might live at such a place, and you knock on the door as instructed.

You’re in luck—someone grunts out a curse from inside and drops what sounds like a steel suitcase full of metal door knobs. More clattering, then you hear the mystery mechanic yell, “come in!” You contemplate turning back, but no such luck. Your car has been making the worst noises lately, and the entire last mile to this place it was screeching bloody murder.

So you go inside. It’s dark and there’s metal everywhere, including piled up on the wooden crates that look like they might be a makeshift front counter. The cash register balances precariously on top seems convincing enough.

You nervously say, “hello?” toward the darkness through the door in the ramshackle wall, but there’s no reply. Then, lights flick on in the back room, and you hear very heavy footsteps stomping toward you.

“Cash only,” a rasping voice snaps from behind a pile of scrap nearby. You flinch, but you came prepared, so you yank a wad of bills from your jacket and slap them down on the teetering crates. Be short and to the point, you remind yourself. He doesn’t like ramblers.

“My car is fucked,” you blurt out. “Heard you can fix it.”

Silence follows your words, then a figure emerges from behind the mountains of metal. It’s a man—an extremely tall and broad man with shaggy, disheveled gray hair. You’re struck for a moment by what he’s wearing, curious about the choices he’d made while picking out his work ensemble. Usually mechanics wore coveralls to keep the mess from staining their clothes, but this man is dressed in a plain white t-shirt and jeans, both carelessly smeared with oil, dirt, and rust. What really confuses you, though, is the pair of dark, round sunglasses settled on the bridge of his nose. How can he see in this shitty, dim lighting?

He really doesn’t look at you as he moves forward, his gaze apparently already trained on the part of your car that’s visible through the outside doorway. You’d forgotten to close the door. The man doesn’t seem to mind, though. He passes you without so much as a glance, then leans against the door frame and starts muttering to himself, still apparently focused on your vehicle.

“Haven’t seen you around before,” the man remarks suddenly, turning his shoulders slightly toward you without actually looking at you. You jump, having been convinced he’d forgotten you were standing there.

“I had no other choice,” you say, then you bite your lip. You’d been surprised into blunt honesty, something you would’ve preferred to avoid. Instead of seeming offended, however, the man lets out a raspy, barking laugh.

“Well aren’t you just the smartest little cookie that’s waltzed into my shop in ages,” he drawls, the words making you bristle with anger. He finally turns back toward you, taking a few steps closer, and—much to your rapidly rising displeasure—he looks you straight in the face. His gaze, while hidden behind the dark glasses, is almost tangible as it rakes over your features. Goosebumps ripple down your arms. You’re pinned under his invisible gaze, suddenly terrified. You really shouldn’t have come here.

The cash register behind you makes a very loud dinging sound, and you nearly start out of your skin.

“Alright. I’ll fix your car, little cookie crumb,” the man says, moving past you to pick up the stack of bills you’d put on the crate. “You can wait in here.” He doesn’t even count the money before shoving it into his back pocket. You’re frozen again, insulted beyond belief by the incredibly patronizing nickname he’s given you but relieved nearly to the point of tears that he’s willing to work on your vehicle. The man apparently doesn’t notice your conflicted state. He walks toward the back room, then pauses in the doorway to send you one final glance over his shoulder.

“Don’t bother me while I’m working,” he drawls, and you see a flash of a strangely silvery-green eye behind the dark glasses as he turns back around. “If you disrupt my process, you’ll regret it dearly.”

——————————

Cue shenanigans, you peek and see that he’s telekinetically manipulating metal, then he catches you and sexy shenanigans happen—extra plus if you’ve got a septum ring, which I do so I’m giving this reader one too lmao😂😂

#karl heisenberg #x reader #re8 #resident evil village #heisenberg x reader #ficlet #modern au #cedar scribbles #listen I probably won’t ever finish this but maybe I will #basically I’m not promising anything but also I love the vibes already so #it might happen #might not #we shall see #also I did not edit this so #pardon the mistakes lmao

[pricklethistle]

Anatomy of faun hands

#otherkin #therian #alterhuman #alterhuman art #therianthropy #artists on tumblr #digital art #drawing #sketch #faun #faunkin #satyr #satyrkin #fantasy #fantasy art #cedar scribbles

[magicharp]

ashlynn and hunter as the princess and the swineheard

#hunter huntsman #ashlynn ella #briar beauty #cedar wood #apple white #ever after high #scribbles

[epoch-smog]

I haven't played the routes in a long time but i remember pieces of it.

Here's what would happen with Cedar

#from phone #cedar the apprentice #too tired for a rewrite or good doodle of this idea i think scribbles show better at the hymor im trying to convey

[gongedtornado]

this is fuckigf stupid

original under

#IM NOT ELABORATING ON THIS #theyre t4t btw #dnd #dnd character #kazzy scribbles #shartposting #ask to tag #cedar velasco

[irl-leafbug]

📚💫🍬🎨🖍

Read My DNI Pretty Please!! ♡ Find It In My Pinned

#Its Been A While!! #Been In Pretty Bad Art Block But The EAH Spinterest Brought Me Back #Also Ive Been Working On How I Want To Draw Everyones Faces #dexter charming #eah #eah royals #ever after high #transfem dexter charming #ever after high art #scribbles #eah rebels #eah redesign #eah dexter #eah briar #eah raven #ever after high raven #eah darling #eah daring #eah maddie #eah cedar #eah cerise #eah apple #apple white

[miles-is-so-gay]

yummy yummy yummy delicious moodboards for a few of my resident evil ocs :3333

various details of each under the cut

1st board - kendall eric/kendric wesker

picrews used (links): blue/purple background, red background, chibi

all pictures were sourced from either canva's like stock photo picture gallery, the resident evil wiki (link) hosted by fandom (if anyone knows of a resi wiki not hosted on fandom PLEASE let me know), or google image searching for "umbrella logo", "resident evil umbrella lab", or "resident evil t-virus" (or at least things similar to those)

2nd board - cedar/cedric zhukarovsky

picrews used (links): middle picture (picrew was deleted, links to creators picrew list), partially covered by torn book page

all pictures were sourced from either canva's stock photo gallery or pinterest

3rd board - damien "dyre" stray

picrew used (link): middle polaroid

all pictures either came from canva's stock photo gallery or pinterest

most of the stickers came from the tumblr blog @/transparentstickers (link to blog instead of @ bc im a coward)

#moodboard #resident evil #resident evil oc #gonna list the ocs now #kendall eric/kendric wesker #cedric/cedar zhukarovsky #damien ''dyre'' stray #smudglet scribbles

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Four

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warning: Fluff and violence

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Azriel didn’t have any reason to show up on your doorstep the next day, but he still flew through the pouring rain and waited patiently for you to answer.

“Hi.” You said, breathlessly.

“Hi.” He answered, dripping water onto the doormat.

Azriel filled up too much space in your apartment, but maybe that was just the constriction of your thumping heart. Az smelled like fresh rain and cedar. Your mother had once taken you to the mountains on the western coast. Citrus fruits sticky and tart in your palms as you sat by the edge of the cliffs and tasted the salt water in the air. It made sense that Azriel should smell like one of your best memories.

“I wanted to give you these.” Azriel said once he’d stepped inside, a quick spell of yours drying the rain off his clothes. Cradled beneath his arms were a bouquet of yellow flowers and a box of pastries from your favorite bakery down the street. The box was soft and supple, but he’d shielded them from the worst of the rain.

“Oh? What’s the occasion?” 

He cocked his head to the side, “Does there need to be an occasion? I thought you might like them.” 

Liar. He knew you liked them. He was the Shadowsinger after all and the first thing he’d done this morning was track down Cherp.

“Well… no,” You said, gingerly accepting both packages from him. Shadows darted out from his gloved hands, slinking up your arms like living jewelry, cool and comforting. “No, I suppose there doesn’t need to be an occasion.” 

“Think of it as a thank you gift. For everything you've done for my family.” 

You blushed, “That was really nothing.” 

“Rhys and Feyre would disagree. I would disagree. And if Rhys were here he’d probably offer you a dress made of diamonds as a gift instead.”

You blinked, “That seems excessive.”

“That’s Rhys.”

“Then I will consider myself lucky that you’re here instead.” 

Azriel seemed pleased with that answer, dipping his head in a subtle bow. 

He started off at the kitchen counter, pouring himself a cup of tea as you snipped the flowers and arranged them in a vase. But soon he was drifting around the room, setting your heart alight whenever his fingers would graze the mantle, linger on the pages of an open book, or brush your handwritten notes. It all felt too intimate. The way he could make your breath catch in your throat with every rustle of his wings, the soft sigh of leather as he bent over to look at your scribbled handwriting and smiled. He may as well have grabbed you by the waist and kissed you breathless. Not that you were thinking about kissing him...

You hovered by the kitchen, then moved as close to him as you dared, close enough that Azriel could smell the orange icing that clung to your lips and fingertips. He wanted to taste you.

He shook his head, moving aside and pointing to the newest of your notes. He read, “Immunity - the innate biological process of recognizing and protecting against foreign entities - is a phenomenon that can be extended and applied to magic. From mating bonds to daemati powers to shielding, everything related to magic can be made analogous to the function of a biological immune system.” 

He gave you a look - a silent act of permission to continue reading to himself. And before you could think it through, you were nodding. 

Azriel took up a spot on your couch, wings cramped against the velvet backing and long legs bumping into the coffee table. You wordlessly moved the furniture and started to pace the floor, busying yourself with the theatrics of organizing notes when you were really keeping an eye on him.

He had a careful look of concentration on his face, lips silently forming the words as his eyes raked over the pages.

You’d presented it to Cherps last summer, and as kind and forgiving as he could be when it came to intellectual exploration, he’d told you flat out that the manuscript was a waste of time. 

It was a review paper in its earliest stages, stringing together the connections between different forms of magic and basic biological processes - namely the immune system. The greatest force working against you was the simple fact that fae didn’t concern themselves with such things. Sickness was an inconvenience at worst, nonexistent at best, and any possible fears were quickly wiped out in the face of immortality. 

But humans were a different story. Their time on this earth was short and precious. Their weaknesses made them curious, fueled by a desperation for more time - more health - that fae held in spades. 

It fascinated you to no end. And after the war against Hybern you’d gotten your hands on some manuscripts from the Human Lands and the Continent.

The concept of white blood cells searching through blood for foreign pathogens didn’t seem so far off from spells designed to unearth enemies hidden on a battlefield. The power wielded by daemati analogous to some virus able to hijack existing cellular machinery for its own purpose. You’d even heard of a blacksmith in the Dawn Court capable of imbuing her magical signature into weapons so that only she would be able to wield them. What better example of immune system magic was there? 

Your heart hammered in your chest as Azriel continued to flip through the pages. Long, nimble fingers fluttering along the edges of the pieced together manuscript. His shadows curled around the paper like curious children.

Perhaps it was a mistake showing it to him. It was a rather weak and pathetic argument anyhow. You’d be ridiculed for presenting your ideas at any respectable meeting of the-

“Brilliant.” Azriel breathed. 

You snapped your head up in shock.

He looked at you, something like awe in his eyes. “You’re brilliant.” Gloved fingers flipped through the pages once more, marveling.

“It’s not finished yet.” You admitted, wringing your hands together, “It’s barely even begun, and I’d have to fight tooth and nail to get it published. If I ever managed to get it published.” You muttered the last part beneath your breath.

“Why wouldn’t they want to read it? You present a convincing case.” 

You tipped your hair to the side, as if the answer was obvious, “Fae don’t like bringing humans into the conversation. They think the work they accomplish is beneath any respectable Librarian. Unworthy of study.”

Az chuckled, “My High Lady would probably say otherwise.” 

The High Lady was a curious case - a human soul housed in one of the strongest bodies Prythian had ever known. 

“I’m sure.” You said, excited that you had found someone who approved of your ideas for once, “It sounds contradictory, but I believe we could learn more about magic by studying humans.” You were standing now, pacing in front of Az. 

He’d managed to crack some forgotten dam inside of you and words began pouring out.

“I have another hypothesis that spell-cleaving comes from the very specific ability to identify and imitate the magical signatures of others. I mean, just imagine! If you could change your magical signature to match that of another fae, any spell crafted, any barrier built-” You made a motion with your hands, “Pff! Useless. You can’t keep yourself out in a spell. Or you can try to at least, but any respectable fae would leave a backdoor for themselves in case something went wrong-” 

You rambled on - the biology of immunization and its function in the last war, the Dawn Court artificer, Helion and Feyre’s powers - before finishing with, “I suspect my own powers have something to do with it.”

“What are your powers?” Azriel asked curiously. He leaned forward ever so slightly. “Aside from being brilliant, of course.” 

You blinked in surprise. You hadn’t meant to say that. You’d meant to keep it in your mind, quiet and hidden. You swallowed thickly, picking at bitten fingernails. 

Azriel swore internally upon seeing the way you flinched, “You don’t… you don’t need to tell me. I’m sorry I-.” 

“No! No. I-'' 

He stared at you openly. Or at least as openly as a person like him could. There was a softness to his eyes you suspected didn't come naturally to him, like he was trying very very hard to convince you to trust him... And it was working. 

His hazel eyes were a swirl of gold touched by the first kisses of Autumn. 

“Can you… can you promise not to tell anyone? Truly promise.” 

He stilled - the very picture of seriousness. Even his shadows seemed to stiffen in the air and become less translucent, “I swear on my life, Y/n. I won’t tell a soul.” 

And you knew he wouldn’t. You could feel his honesty in the air, as if something was tugging at your chest and gingerly pulling you open. 

You swayed gently, fingers crunching your linen skirts. 

“I’m a Clairvoyant.” You admitted, as if it was a shameful thing, “I can touch things - people, objects - and gain knowledge from them. Usually it’s memories or emotions or something else I can’t quite describe.” The scattered books were beginning to make more sense to the Shadowsinger. You pointed to them with open hands, “It’s useful for work… overwhelming when it comes to everything else. Especially after the war with what everyone went through.”

You hesitated. You waited for him to say what you’d been told your entire life: It’s an incredible power. You should be so proud. The Mother has blessed you with this gift. You’re special Y/n.

But Azriel only looked down to your tightly clasped hands, and then to his own.

“That must be quite a burden. To be exposed to all of that.” 

Your eyes snapped up to him as he quietly tugged at his gloves.

“It is.” You murmured beneath your breath, feeling tears begin to prick at your eyes. 

Azriel’s heart clenched in his chest.

“Is that why you won’t touch anyone? Why you ran away from the party?” 

Why you ran away from me that night? 

You nodded guiltily.

Azriel sighed, eyes closing in relief. All this time he’d been terrified that you hated him, thinking that you’d seen him for what he truly was - a monster. 

“It was nothing to do with you.” You said quickly, leaning closer. 

Your hands shot out towards him before freezing midway. You wanted to touch him. You wanted to hold his hands. You felt him tugging at the edges of your heart, like a curious hand pulling at fraying threads. You’d known him less than a week and already you’d spoken more with him than anyone else in the past year. Spent more time with him. Shared your secrets with all the recklessness of young love. What were you thinking? 

You pulled away, lips tightening into a flat, angry line. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. You hadn’t asked for this power, even though others never failed to envy you for it. It was a terrible gift that you couldn’t return when the real thing you wanted was the simple joy of holding Azriel’s hand. 

But that wouldn’t be fair to him either. 

He was a Shadowsinger - a Spymaster to be exact - filled with enough secrets to break the world three times over. To touch him… to kiss him, would be the worst invasion of privacy. Even if you didn’t intend for it to happen. 

Azriel finally spoke and his voice filled the silence with a music you wanted to hear more of, “Being a Shadowsinger… It's not easy. I’ve had plenty of people tell me I should be grateful for it. Grateful for my power and the prestige it's brought me. But sometimes I can’t help but wonder if it was worth the cost.” You stared at him, eyes so wide he swore they could swallow him whole, “I understand, Y/n. I know it’s not exactly the same… but I understand.”

“Do you think you’d be happier, Azriel, if you hadn’t been born a Shadowsinger?” 

He shrugged, “I don’t think that’s the way it works, Y/n.” 

“No… no I suppose you’re right about that.” You murmured, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

He gently nudged the coffee table and it lightly tapped your shins. 

“It’s not all bad.” You raised your eyebrows, urging him to continue, “If I wasn’t a Shadowsinger, I wouldn’t have met you.” 

You chuckled, a stray tear slipping out and dripping onto the rug. You brushed the rest of the moisture away.

“Maybe you would have. Maybe you would have come to the Day Court to study.” Azriel snorted. The sun would sooner rise in the west and set in the east before anyone called Azriel an academic. “Maybe we would have gotten into arguments about research and books.”

“About the historical accuracy of chicken eggs?”

“About the anatomical considerations of having sex with a dragon-born.” You clarified. “Obviously.”

“Obviously.” Azriel said, smiling. 

He’d never been born for the quiet life. Shadowsinger or not, he was a warrior through and through. But looking around at the plush sofa and the faelights flooding in from the athenaeum, he couldn’t help but imagine what kinds of peace you’d bring into his life if he ever mustered up the courage to tell you the truth.

You’re my mate.

You’re my mate.

You’re my mate.

The words kept rattling around in his mind as the pair of you spent the day holed up in your apartment. 

It was a comfortable haze. You didn’t ask why he lingered, although he felt your burning curiosity through the bond, and he never offered you an explanation. The truth was, no matter his reason for sitting on the couch reading his own sensitive reports, you liked his company… and you wanted him to stay. He saw it in the way your eyes always latched onto him when he stood up, only relaxing when he settled back down. 

It was a comforting pain to know that you wanted him, even if you didn’t know why and even if he was too much of a coward to do anything about it. 

He didn’t eat, politely declining every stubborn offer of yours until you finally gave up. He wouldn’t be accepting any food from you from here on out. It wasn’t until you made the mistake of yawning from your spot on the floor, papers radiating out from you like a sunburst, that he made any effort to leave. 

He looked towards the window. Long, sharp shadows crept along the floor and mingled with his own.

Fuck. He promised Rhys he’d be back by mid-afternoon. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stay so long.” He stood up, wings stretching out so you could see every ripple of muscle, every inky vein that ran through the thin membrane like offshoots from a river.

You scrambled to your feet, pressing an open book to your chest like that would stop your pounding heart. Time had passed too quickly.

“There’s no need to apologize. I-I liked your company. I like your company. Present tense.” You sighed without thinking, “It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone around.” 

Cruel, malicious voices rang in Azriel’s mind. They sounded like his half-brothers and the asshole he was unfortunate enough to call a father. 

Don’t do it. You’ll ruin this. You’ll ruin this like you ruin everything. 

Look at this place. You don’t belong here. You don’t belong with her. You’ll never be worthy of-

“May I come see you tomorrow then?” Azriel’s words were loud, laced with hope. “I’ll bring breakfast.” He said, quieter this time. 

You blushed and tried to sound nonchalant when you answered, “I would like that.” 

With the promise of another day hanging in the air, that tight coil in your chest loosened, even as Azriel bowed his head and stepped outside. You gasped when he unfurled his wings, the faint glow of the street lights shining through the membrane. 

There were few things Azriel loved about himself, but his wings? His wings were his pride and joy. The one beauty he felt he possessed. So when he saw the awe in your gaze, he took off a little harder than usual, delight shooting through his heart when he turned around to see you laughing and brushing the hair from your eyes. 

You watched him and he watched you as he climbed higher and higher into the sky before fading into nothing.

There were three books you treasured above all else: The Natural Trials and Tribulations of Leonora Bedroot, Three Knocks for A Kiss, and A Touch of Cinnamon. They’d been your mother’s favorite novels - comforting, slice of life books that promised a happy ending no matter the sorrows that came before. Dog-eared, finger-print stained, and loved beyond measure, your mother had read them to you over and over and over again. Her notes were still scrawled in the margins, her joy still pressed between the pages like preserved flowers. 

Being a Clairvoyant meant you could tap into the essence of objects, and objects held memories and emotions just as readily as people. When you thrummed your fingers over the clothbound books you got flashes of your mother. Flashes of her scent. Flashes of her affection for you. 

You relied on that familiar comfort as you sat by the window and watched the sky. Every swirl in the clouds looked like Azriel to you. As if he’d swoop down from the heavens and burst through your door so you could wrap your mind around that scent of rainfall and cedar.

You buried your face in your knees and cried out in frustration. You’d wanted to crawl into his lap the entire day. To feel the warmth of his wings wrapped around you like a blanket. 

Stupid stupid stupid. 

You knocked your head against the worn leather-bound books. One look at his windswept hair and faint smile this morning and you’d been lost. 

What would your mother say? Three days and you were already drunk on him. Were flowers, sweet treats, and a modicum of undivided attention all it took for you to fall for someone? 

But it wasn’t just a bouquet of flowers - they were daisies picked from the florist down the street with the lilac doorway and hand-painted cards. It wasn’t just a box of pastries - they were from your favorite bakery with the orange icing so heavenly that for years you’d ignored cake on your birthday in favor of them. 

Such detail required more than a modicum of attention. If you were right, Azriel would have needed to fly around the city inquiring after you and your mother to gain such information. 

But why would he do that? Why would he bother? 

The window was cool against your skin, whisking away the heat that had gathered in your cheeks after hours of thinking about the Shadowsinger. 

It was a quiet night, as most nights were in the Day Court, and aside from the three Librarians who had entered The Alcove for a late night of reading, you hadn’t seen a soul. The streets were as still as a painting. 

Someone drunkenly staggered out of The Alcove.

Meryl. The Alcove’s Bookkeeper. 

You frowned in distaste. 

Meryl was a middling Librarian at best, although he was skilled enough at the sword to have been selected for Bookkeeper training. Standing easily over six-feet tall with the strong legs of a bison and horns to match, he’d chosen the simple life presiding over The Alcove where he could drink and fuck to his heart’s desire. After all, who would care enough to attack an athenaeum dedicated to boring fiction?

Meryl clopped forward another three feet, one hand pressed to his throat. His red-trimmed robes swayed in the breeze. But his robes weren’t meant to be that red. 

He stumbled to the side, close to the base of your front steps, and his eyes locked with yours. 

His ears were missing, two gaping holes where the gentle slope of the cartilage should be. His lips parted in a silent scream and blood bubbled out hot and thick.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

Did I steal the *hi* from Heartstopper because I've been rewatching it for the fourth time this week?................. Maybe???

Love,

Florence B.

Taglist: @rosebunnysblog @icey--stars @laceandsuch @coralseacourt @cherryinsalemverse @flowerprincezz @valeridarkness @annaaaaa88 @deeshag @bluesiphonsbaby @allyjoe755 @sidthedollface2 @auggiesolovey @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kemillyfreitas @transparentmoonglitter @ang-taylorsversion @ssmay123 @just-m-2 @sevikas-whore @lalalucha @svtwonwoow @user707sthings @cherryinsalemverse @evylynny @decrepit-bees-knees

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x mate reader #azriel acotar #the shadowsinger and the inkbird #acotar fanfiction #acotar #azriel x you #azriel mate #azriel spymaster #azriel fanfic #the day court

[saintsugu]

BROTHERLY LOVE. KINKTOBER DAY 1

rating: Mature; mdni

pairing: Step-brother!Megumi x reader

word count: 3.6k

contents: step/pseudo cest, heavy dub con, manipulation from megumi, megumi’s obsessed with purity, rich boy!megumi, vouyerism, masturbation, no prep, slight choking and coercion from yuuta at the end, megumi’s referred to mostly as reader’s brother.

author’s note: first thing i’ve fully written in over a year and it’s a kinktober post…😵‍💫 thank you to all the lovely people who beta’d this for me<3 @dilfhos @iwaasfairy @bunparade

You hear shuffling on the other end, presumably as he gets up to get the door for you. 

Taking advantage of his three day weekend, Megumi invited you to spend the themat his apartment off-campus. You haven’t been able to see him much since the start of the semester, so you were glad to take him up on his offer. 

You’d only met Megumi three years ago, the night his father and your mother announced their…impromptu engagement. Neither of you were really thrilled, but the entire situation was brightened infinitely when you started to get to know your soon-to-be step brother. 

He was always so sweet to you. He would take you out for food, or on shopping sprees— using his daddy’s card to buy you whatever you so much as glanced at. A lot of the time, it was just the two of you at home and he always made sure you weren’t lonely. Honestly, he spoiled you rotten, so how could you be upset with the arrangement?

Toji, though, was a bit…off-putting. He was a lot meaner than his son. You would hear him make comments about how ditzy you were, and it hurt a lot. Thankfully, Megumi was always there to cheer you up. 

You were so upset when he started university. He only visited on the holidays— sometimes not even then. The house felt so empty. You couldn’t help but miss your big brother. So when he came back for the summer, you were beyond grateful. Suddenly, your schedule was full again as the two of you spent every second together. 

Naturally, you were overjoyed when he reached out. Life was getting boring just staying at home, and besides, you just missed him so much. School had never really been your thing, so you didn’t follow your step-brother to college— despite wanting to —and your step-father was kind enough to let you live at home for free, so you didn’t work a job. It was a mostly stress-free life, but without your brother around, it’d gotten a bit…dull. 

When he called you, you were quick to throw a few outfits in a suitcase and catch the soonest train. You made sure to leave a scribbled little note for your mother to inform her of your whereabouts before taking off. 

The train ride is hellishly long, but it’s all worth it when you see your step brother outside the door. He’s smiling warmly, wearing a sweater and some gray sweats as he greets you.

“Hey,” he’s quick to pull you into his arms. He smells good— like freshly sprayed cologne with hints of cedar and vanilla. You’re far too enthralled by his warmth to notice his hands creeping down a little further than warranted, or the way he lifts up the hem of your skirt, his dick twitching a bit as he takes note of your panties. “Come on in.”

The second you step foot into the spacious apartment, you’re met with a pungent smell. It’s so strong that it makes your nose scrunch up. You’ve smelled it before— at a few different parties, but why is it in your brother’s apartment? 

“Sorry about the smell. My friends were just here a bit ago.” It’s not exactly a lie, but the red tint of his eyes is more than enough to prove that he was indulging, too. 

You spend the afternoon catching up with Megumi, listening intently as he tells you censored versions of what he’s been up to. He can tell how starstruck you are as you listen with bated breath. It might make him sick, but he loves how you’ve always hung off his every word. 

Ever since he was young, Megumi has watched his father go through women like they were nothing more than objects. The same rang true for the friends he started to gain in high school, and it wasn’t just the boys. He found that all of the girls were quite…promiscuous. 

He never thought there was anything necessarily wrong with it— until he met his sweet little step-sister, that is. 

That night at dinner, you were just so kind, nothing at all like the girls at his private school. They were all snobby and too good for him, but you, you were perfect; you are perfect. You’ve always been so malleable and kind hearted. He knew from the first time you went to get ice cream in his Cadillac, the way you apologized until there were tears filling your sweet eyes over a bit of spilled sprinkles. God, you’ve had him wrapped around your dainty little finger from the moment he met you.

“I was thinking we could go to brunch tomorrow.” He pats the spot next to him on the couch as he leans back, his ankle coming up to drape across his other knee. On cue, you pad over from where you are in his kitchen, plopping down right next to him. “There’s a cute little joint nearby that I know you’ll love.”

His kind words warm your chest, making your cheeks rise into a smile. He’s always looking out for you or thinking of you. He’s even sent you a few dresses while he’s been away! They’re a bit….small, but you figure he just got your sizing wrong. Either way, it’s the thought that counts, right? 

“Tonight, though, I was wondering if you wanted to meet some of my friends. They were all excited when I told them you were visiting.” Too excited for Megumi’s liking. “It won’t be a lot, just three or four guys coming over for a bit. Only if you want, though.” Even before you answer, he knows that you’ll say yes. You’d never deny him anything, but it makes him look good if he gives you an out. 

“Oh that’ll be fun!” You grin innocently. “We can watch movies.”

God, he loves the way you beam at him. Your innocence is such a refresher. But, as much as he loves it, you also make him want to tear it away from you before anyone else can. Sometimes, he just wants to break you down and build you back up from scratch. He knows it’s sick— that he shouldn’t feel like this towards his supposed sister, but he can’t help it. It’s just the way his mind works. 

As the clock starts to slip into the evening hours, there are continuous knocks at his front door, all one after another. Yuuji Itadori is the first to arrive. You’ve met him once before, during Thanksgiving break when Megumi brought him along. His rambunctious voice and laugh fills the air of Megumi’s, otherwise, stale apartment. A girlish giggle erupts from your lips when Yuuji slaps your step-brother on the back a little too hard, causing him to swear in pain and you both laugh at the scowl he shoots his way. 

Yuuji is quickly followed by Kokichi Muta. He’s much more timid in comparison. It’s a bit…confusing when you notice the light dusting of pink on his cheeks when he lays eyes on you. 

Next, Noritoshi Kamo, and lastly— and arguably the most important out of the four— Yuuta Okkotsu.

Megumi has been trying to find himself in Yuuta’s good graces since his first semester of his freshman year. Not only is Yuuta two grades his senior, but he’s the vice president of the fraternity Megumi has been wanting to rush since his junior year of high school.  

Megumi’s kind enough to introduce you to his friends, but you can feel your cheeks heat up when their eyes linger for a little longer than you’d expect. They all make themselves comfortable on the two couches, hands wrapped around the beer’s bottleneck while they snicker amongst themselves. You’ve been keeping Megumi company in the kitchen, but not paying enough attention to notice the amount of drinks he had brought to the couch. When he finally sits down, you’re close behind him.

“Here, have some,” he opens the bottle of beer and hands it to you, despite the confused look on your face. He knows you don’t drink, but he also knows that means your tolerance is nonexistent and that it's going to make his life a lot easier. 

Any words of rebuttal get stuck in your throat. Your eyebrows pull into a frown, but you sheepishly take the drink anyway. You don’t like being intoxicated; Megumi calls it an irrational fear, but you can’t help it. The drink feels foreign in your hands, but he’d never do anything to hurt you, right?

Despite the sour taste of the beer, you swallow it anyway. You don’t want to embarrass Megumi by acting like a fool in front of his friends. Yuuji starts a conversation and soon enough, you’ve finished the bottle. Unfortunately, you’re too preoccupied running your mouth to notice when Megumi sets another in your hand, and you obediently continue sipping. 

You don’t even know how many you’ve downed by the time you pause and realize your head feels dizzy. Megumi finds it adorable— the way your face flushes and your words start to slur. You try and fail to whisper to him about how tired you are, and it earns a snicker from Yuuta. Good, he thinks. I need to keep his attention. 

“C’mere.” You don’t think much when Megumi pats his lap. Your movements are much more sluggish and there’s a surge of warmth in your chest that you can’t quite place as you climb onto him, nuzzling your head into his neck. Everything feels so overwhelming, especially when you hear his friend whistle. You don’t know why, and you’re too out of it to ask or even guess why. Little do you know, it’s because your tiny skirt has been flipped up for everyone to get a glimpse of your ass. 

“Shit, y’gonna share, right?” There’s a nasty grin on Noritoshi’s face as he takes a long sip from his beer. 

“You wish,” Megumi mumbles lowly, a dark and possessive tone underlying his seemingly nonchalant words. Strong hands slide down your body before landing on your hips. “Hey, pretty.” His voice is just a whisper, but you know that he’s talking to you. 

“Yeah, ‘Gumi?” You ask sweetly. He loves when you call him that. Despite it just being a variation of his name, he finds it so fucking adorable that his cock jumps in his pants every time he hears it. 

“I need you to do something for me, okay?” He feels you nod and he can’t help but smile at how pliant and ready you are to please him. “Nothing new,” he whispers, and you can’t help but shiver a bit. 

“We’re just gonna do what we usually do—play how we do when it’s just us,” a soft hand traces hearts on your bare thigh. “And we’re gonna pretend like my friends aren’t here, okay?”

What?

This all feels…weird, and a little scary. But you know that your big brother would never hurt you— of course not! But what if he’s friends with bad men and doesn’t know it? What if…what if something goes wrong?

His words confuse you. Usually, when you’re playing together in the way he means, he always tells you not to do it with anyone else, that it should be reserved for your brother only, so why is he changing his mind?

“I asked a question, baby.” His once soft touch turns firmer until you squeak out an unsure okay, the sound muffled against the crook of his neck. “Good girl,” he purrs. “Y’always so good for me.”

You’re no longer able to think about how anxious and unsure you are as your step-brother pulls you into a soft kiss. Soon, he’s filling up every one of your senses. He’s the only thing you can feel, smell, or hear, and it’s nearly suffocating. 

It’s simple, really. He knows every single thing that turns you on and drives you insane; hell, he created those things. When you met, you were a virgin who didn’t even know what oral was. 

Despite his overwhelming touches, your attention isn’t stuck on him. His friends are all slumped back on the couch and staring straight at you. Their gazes make you feel trapped. There’s a tightening in your chest before Megumi's stern voice breaks you out of your trance. “Don’t look at them,” he scolds, a soft hand redirecting your jaw. “C’mon, baby, look at me.”

Nothing in the world can get him as hard as he is when he sees that look on your face—those big, near tearful eyes that are just begging for him to make it all better. 

As much as he wants to take care of you, there’s still a part of him, a sick and twisted part of him that sits right beneath the surface, too deep down to ignore. That's what’s making him do this. Megumi believes that these feelings can only be attributed to his father’s genetics. It’s not his fault that he wants to ruin you. He knows someone will take advantage of your naivety one day, so why can’t it be him? He deserves that much, doesn’t he? 

“You know I’d never hurt you.” You wouldn’t know the difference, he thinks to himself. You look so worried, but he can’t figure out why. Most of the time, there’s not a single thought in that pretty little head of yours, so what’s running through it now? Honestly, he doesn’t care too much; instead, his hand continues to slide down your back with no regard for your anxiety. 

Despite his words, he can tell you’re anxious. It irritates him a bit, but instead of letting it show, he just leans back against the couch. “Go ahead, baby. Take that shirt off for me.” The thumb rubbing circles into your inner thigh encourages you. 

Your throat feels dry as your big brother puts you on the spot. Nerves shoot through your body at the mere prospect of upsetting him. The thought of him being disappointed in you is a quick way to get your shaky hands pulling at your skimpy tank top. 

Manicured nails tug at the hem of it, eyes trained only on Megumi as you pull it over your head. The air feels bitter when it hits your skin but heat from Megumi’s burning gaze warms you. 

“Good girl.” His praise makes you melt, especially with all that booze in your system. You can’t even remember how much he had you drink. Every time you even began to try and protest, he would just press the rim to your lips and tell you to drink.

A hand on your waist pulls you in, and it’s not long before he has his tongue halfway down your throat. You’re so overwhelmed with simply trying to breathe that you don’t see Megumi pull his cock out. It’s already hard— pretty much has been since you arrived, and he’s not at all sly as he pulls your panties to the side. 

In contrast to yours that are screwed shut, his eyes are wide as they meet with Yuuta. Fuck, Yuuta’s gaze is piercing. It’s so clear that he’s judging him. Yuuta is leaning back into the cushion, his ankle crossed over his leg and his expression reads as if he’s bored. And that only spurs Megumi on further. He’s so desperate to show off in front of the man. 

He won’t admit it, but he’s had a slight crush on the man since he started University; honestly, it’s evident in the way his cock pulses simply from Yuuta’s judgemental stare. 

“G-Gumi..!” You gasp into his open lips, taken completely off guard. In the past, he’s always talked you through it. He would make sure you were prepped thoroughly before trying to nestle deep inside of you. Now, though, you can’t help but feel he’s being mean as he lifts your hips, just to force you down on his cock. 

“Shit,” Noritoshi laughs, palming himself through his sweats. “Didn’t think you had it in you, Fushiguro.” His words earn a disgruntled scowl from Megumi. In turn, you feel his hands grip you impossibly tighter, as if he’s visibly laying claim to you.

He ignores his taunts, far too focused on his baby sister’s sweet and tight cunt. Fuck, it’s tighter than he remembers. Knowing you, you never did so much as finger yourself while he’s been away. This past summer, he told you that he’d know if you had. Thankfully for him, you were naive enough to believe him. 

Soon enough, you’re tucked against his chest as he grinds you over his cock. You squeeze the fabric of his shirt between dainty hands; your hold is so tight he’s worried the threads will snap. The shirt’s quite expensive, so he should care about you potentially ruining it, but he can’t bring himself to when he’s balls deep inside of you. 

A vicious grin finds his face when he takes in the state of his apartment. Noritoshi and Kokichi shamelessly have their cocks out, jacking off lazily to the sight in front of them. Yuuji, on the other hand, takes a more…reserved approach. His lip is tucked between his teeth, nearly quivering as he not-so-discreetly palms his painfully hard cock. 

As you near your orgasm, Megumi takes advantage of your fucked out state. Usually, he’s so sweet and gentle, but tonight, he can’t help but be a little rough as he forces you into a new position. He manhandles you until you’re face down, with your tits pressed into the glass table. 

As much as he loves your tits, Megumi’s always been a sucker for this angle. With his hands having free reign of your ass, he could never get tired of the view. 

You’re pulled out of your near orgasmic high and thrown into the reality of who’s watching. “I-I…” you stammer nervously, still whimpering as Megumi fucks into you. 

“Hey, pretty,” Noritoshi teases, leaning in slightly. “You’re a naughty little thing, aren’t you?”

You’re quick to deny his accusation. “‘Gumi says ‘m a good girl…” you turn your head to look at your big brother. “…right, ‘Gumi?”

“Yeah, you are.” He’s groaning as his pace picks up, making your toes curl as you grip onto nothing. He’s fighting back the urge to cum with every thrust. “My good girl.”

Your eyes roll when he hits deep inside of you—the sight is something straight out of a porno as your tits slide against the glass surface. All you have on is a skimpy little bralette, one that any of these guys could snap with ease. With your tongue lolling out, every single guy in the room, with Yuuta being the exception, is groaning and pumping just a bit faster. 

Yuuta, on the other hand, is just watching. Not once as he adjusted himself or even re-situated on the couch. He almost looks…bored, and that worries Megumi beyond belief.

“Fuck, Fushiguro, y’gotta let me get in on this. At least let me take her throat or something.” All Noritoshi’s doing is running his mouth and it’s starting to get on his nerves. In no world is he letting any of these vile men get their greedy hands on his baby sister. You’re too pure for that. 

“Be quiet,” he snaps, rough hands tugging at the fat of your hips. His eyes cut at his friend, a sinister look in them. The boy backs off, if only for now as Megumi gets closer to his high. 

You feel something brewing in your lower stomach. It’s not unfamiliar— you only get it with Megumi, but it’s more…intense this time. Instead of the slow and gentle buildup you usually get, this time it’s hurtling at you. 

“Gumi,” you stammer out, eyes still rolling as your acrylics scrape at the table. “D-don’t know what’s happening….!”

He’s quick to shush you. The last thing he needs is your whining ruining his orgasm. “‘S okay, baby,” he purrs, a firm hand wrapping around your neck as he pushes you cheek-first into the glass. “Gonna feel good, I promise.”

His pace grows erratic with his approaching orgasm being so close. His dick pulses inside of you and with one last groan, he pushes deep inside of you as his orgasm washes over. 

His entire body shivers in its wake, and that feeling is only amplified when you start to twitch as well. Your cunt grows impossibly tight as your pleasure peaks, and your walls milk him of every drop of his cum— so much so, that it’s starting to leak out and drip down your inner thighs.

“Good girl.” He’s completely out of breath, but he knows the praise is what you need. The small sobs and hiccups that escape your lips are clear indicators of the praise you’ll need from your big brother. “Did so good, baby…”

A soft hand traces up and down your body and he can’t help but feel a little smug when he sees that three out of the four men came as well— Yuuji, unfortunately in his pants. 

But that’s only three, he realizes. It seems that Yuuta disappeared between now and right before his orgasm hit. Where could he have gone—

“That was good.” His voice is low in Megumi’s ear as he leans over the couch. Megumi freezes and he swears that the hairs on his neck stand up. His nearly soft cock twitches a bit at the praise. 

“Now why don’t you let me have a try and I’ll see what I can do about extending a bid.”

tagging: @pussydrunkfyodor @kkittycries @saintriots @chaoticmoonave @enchantedforest-network

#megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #.kinktober 2023 #tw stepcest #.ezra’s writing #.file } megumi

[prettygoodnames]

Cottagecore name ideas!

Ivy

Ember 

Velvet 

Winter 

Cassette 

Blossom 

Sunny 

Willow 

Fallon

Poppy

Finnis 

Archie 

Edgar 

Micah

Lilac 

Skye 

Lark 

Lavender 

Charlie 

Sparrow 

August 

Prim 

Levi 

Milo 

Melian

Atlas 

Ambrose

Jonah 

Quinn

Wells

Taylor 

Spencer 

Tethan 

Stevie 

Ivory 

Newt 

Lavender 

Honey  

Cedar 

Aspen

Chip

Cookie 

Beans 

Scribbles 

Rosalie 

Marigold 

Nikko 

Felix 

Casper 

Cassian 

Artemis 

Bug 

Moth 

Thistle 

Nellie 

Gaia 

Zephyr 

Styx

Toby 

Hazel 

Everett 

Orion 

Navy 

Rosemary

Elodie 

Prim(rose) 

Thatcher

Dahlia 

Vinny 

Toadstool 

Pixie 

Otto 

Wisteria 

Emery 

~ Basil

#character names #name ideas #name suggestions #writers on tumblr #oc names #oc ideas #cottagecore #cottagecore names #nonbinary names #trans names #masc names #gender neutral names #fem names

[ladykailitha]

Little Runaway Part 2

Part 1

Steve was still asleep when Eddie got up for breakfast. He made himself a bowl of cereal, going over his notes for the Hellfire Club’s session today.

Steve hadn’t awakened by the time Eddie was ready to go so Eddie slipped into his bedroom and quickly gathering his things. Eddie was a master of quick and quiet, having to get ready for school on days Uncle Wayne was sleeping off a late shift.

Eddie stopped at the door and looked back at Steve’s sleeping form. He scribbled a note that told him to eat what he wanted and that Eddie would be home later.

Eddie shoved his hair into his mouth and chewed, trying to puzzle out how to let Dustin know what was going on without letting the rest of Hellfire know that he had Steve fucking Harrington asleep on his bed. Because if he hated King Steve, it was nothing compared to the fury of a thousand suns that the rest of his friends had for the dude.

Now, the new nuggets, Dustin and his friends, they were fine with Steve which surprised him, but there it was. But if Dustin was right, even Will, Mike, Lucas, and Erica shouldn’t know where Steve was hiding out.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted an old wooden chess set that had a few pieces missing. The black pieces were dark cherry wood and the white was cedar.

He picked up the two kings and hefted them both. He flipped them over and saw green felt on the bottom of each piece. He set the white one down and dug at the black king’s felt. After a moment he was able to peel it back. And to his absolute glee he found that it was hollow.

He picked up the white piece and after a scribbled message explaining why this was necessary, Eddie rolled up the paper and placed it in the hollow. He shoved the king in his pocket and grabbed his stuff.

He got to his van and was about to start it when he looked back at the trailer.

Shit. He really hoped this wasn’t going to wake Steve up.

Wincing he turned the key and the engine roared to life. He backed out, hoping that Steve stayed asleep.

*

“Eddie!” Gareth greeted. “You’re late, man.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Eddie murmured getting to his seat and starting to set up. “I got a new stray last night and you know me and strays.”

Dustin perked up. “Yeah?”

“Next time Dustin when you drop off a stray, don’t do it at fuck all in the morning, yeah?” Eddie said pointedly.

Dustin gulped and looked down. “I didn’t know where else to take him. Is he okay?”

“After I got him cleaned up, he was out like a light,” Eddie said. “Been asleep since.”

“Aren’t you worried that the stray is going to piss all over the place while your gone?” Jeff asked.

“I’m hoping that he’ll still be asleep when I get home,” Eddie said.

Dustin nodded.

They started playing and Eddie watched Dustin carefully. The kid was clearly distracted. And Eddie could only guess it had to do with Steve.

They were going to have to talk about why after the session.

Finally they got to a spot where they could stop. Eddie handed out XP and gold as well as any items that they may have picked up. Made sure they all wrote it on their character sheet, too.

Dustin was getting on his bike to go home with his friends when Eddie stopped him.

“Hey, I’ll take you home,” he said jerking his thumb at the van. “You can put your bike in the back. I wanted to talk to you a bit about that stray you picked up. Because I have so, so many questions.”

Everyone looked at Dustin and then at Eddie, wondering what the hell was going on.

“I promise to tell you guys about it later,” Dustin said and immediately got off his bike and rolled it up to Eddie’s van.

“See you nuggets next week,” Eddie said waving at them.

He waited until they turned at the end of the street before glaring at Dustin. He tossed him the chess piece.

“Get in and I’ll explain.”

Dustin scrambled into the passenger seat of the van and closed the door behind him. He looked at the chess piece as Eddie pulled out.

He frowned when he saw the felt was coming off and peeled it back. He pulled out the note excitedly.

“This is a great idea, Eddie,” Dustin said. “That way we can pass messages without anyone noticing.”

“Tell me what the hell happened, Dustin,” Eddie growled.

Dustin blushed. “I was signing up for the summer reading program at the rec center. Read twenty books over summer break and you get an ice cream party. Anyway, I was finishing up when Steve came out of the locker room.”

“Doesn’t explain why you waited until almost four o’clock in the morning!” Eddie bit out.

“That’s how long it took me to convince him to hide out somewhere instead of using his gas running away from his dad.”

Eddie sighed. “Steve said that you gave him the low down on his dad?”

Dustin nodded. “He’s been going around town looking for Steve. He doesn’t say he’s missing. Only that he wants to talk and Steve hasn’t been home.”

“Grade A asshole right there,” Eddie said.

“Yeah,” Dustin murmured. “I didn’t know what else to do. I knew that the trailer park would be the last place Mr Harrington would look. And I tried Max’s place first but her mom’s currently on a bender and I didn’t think it would be right to saddle Max with both, you know?”

Eddie rubbed his face. “Yeah. So literally no other place for him to go?”

Dustin nodded.

Eddie pulled up to Dustin’s house and helped him get his bike out the back.

“I know Steve hasn’t been the best of dudes, but this isn’t King Steve anymore, okay?” Dustin said.

Eddie sighed. “I’m starting to get that, yeah.”

Dustin gave him a hug. “Thanks for doing this. I owe you big time.”

Eddie pounded on Dustin’s back. “Yeah you do. But don’t worry. That kitten you dropped off at my place will be fine.”

Dustin laughed. “We need to name the hairball.”

Eddie giggled. “Hmm...how about Ozzy?”

“No real names,” Dustin said. “It’d get confusing.”

“Okay...” Eddie said, pouting a bit.

“How about Lucky?” Dustin suggested.

“Sounds more like a dog,” Eddie said. “How about Jinx?”

Dustin tilted his head. “Yeah, sure. That can work.”

“Just put that chess piece where I can see it, whenever you need to get in contact with Jinx, okay?”

Dustin nodded. “It sounds like you’re keeping him for longer than the weekend.”

Eddie sighed. “I don’t know.”

Dustin just shook his head. “See you around, Eddie.”

Eddie closed his eyes and pursed lips. This was getting out of hand. If Steve was staying he needed to know the whole truth.

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Epilogue

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #gay steve harrington #abuse tw #ladykailtiha writes

[cedarsmoke4]

My favorite chunk of my modern/mechanic au fic so far:

#karl heisenberg #resident evil village #re8 village #fic wip #my fic #cedar scribbles

[pricklethistle]

🌾

#artists on tumblr #digital art #drawing #sketch #alterhuman #alterhuman art #otherkin #therian #therianthropy #faunkin #faun kin #satyrkin #faun #satyr #cedar scribbles

[flowersandbigteeth]

Can I request you to write Hugo? He’s grumpy and fluffy.

I love writing Hugo! I love werebears so much 🥺🥺🥺

General Plot: Hugo has terrible handwriting so you insist he gets a laptop to make your life easier.

Werebear (Hugo) x female reader

Word Count: 2k

🌶️ NSFW MASTERPOST 🌶️

W: nsfw werebear smut, vaginal and oral sex, outdoor sex, jealousy angst, biting

Hugo had been dead serious about you quitting your job, so at that moment you were thumbing through the customer files of his carpentry shop trying to make heads or tails of his scribbled handwriting. 

“Hugo, what the hell is this?!” you yelled and you heard the saw stop from the workshop. A few minutes later he came in smelling like cedar and covered in sawdust. 

His warmth hit your back as he sidled up behind you at the big desk in the office you used to do your new job, business manager. That basically meant you did all the paperwork so Hugo could take more commissions. The arrangement had been working well for the past few weeks. He’d doubled the amount of orders he could take since you could handle the phone and organize shipping. 

“I can’t read a lick of this,” you grumbled at your werebear mate, “do we need to send you back to Elementary school? This is chicken scratch!” 

He grumbled behind you, leaning down over your shoulder. 

“No it’s not,” he snarled, “I don’t need to go back to school! You need to get glasses or something! It says very clearly….uh…” 

You gave him a look as he squinted his eyes trying to make out his own handwriting. 

“Well it doesn’t matter what it says,” he growled, “I’ve got a mind like a steel trap. I remember exactly what they wanted…it was…a dinner table…I think…or maybe an end table?” 

You crossed your arms at him. 

“I know you already said 'no' but we need to get a laptop or a tablet so you can type in the orders,” you chided, “I can’t call every one of these people and ask them to remind me what they wanted!” 

An hour and a half and two fussy fights later, you were standing around an electronics store with Hugo as he perused the ipads and tablet laptops they had for sale. 

“Can I help you?!” a perky blonde worker chirped appearing from nowhere.

You jumped and clutched your chest, it was like she’d been hiding or something. She was unnecessarily pretty, tall with big boobs and that perfect hourglass figure that had to be surgery. The store issue polo she was wearing was hanging on for dear life, lifting up at her flat belly to show a tantalizing strip of skin and bursting at her large breasts. You couldn’t help but feel slightly incensed when Hugo glanced down at her nametag. 

“Yeah…uh...Cherise…we’re looking for a tablet or a laptop or something, my business manager is complaining about my handwriting and insisting I get one,” he grumbled, still pissed off he had to be there. 

You glared up at him at being referred to as his “business manager” not his mate and glared even harder when Cherise grabbed him by the elbow, giving him a big, warm smile, and led him to the tablets. 

They spoke companionably as she showed him the models. Not wanting to waste anymore time, he quickly picked one and let her ring him up, all while you stood there fuming.

On the way back to the car, you’d talked yourself from self-righteous jealous rage down to heartbreaking insecure despair. Did Hugo not love you anymore? He’d gotten on just fine with the girl at the store, but with you he was sour and grumpy. He still hadn’t even said anything when you got into his truck and you were on the brink of tears. 

Suddenly he looked down at you, after his own annoyance had abated and he was happy to be on his way back to his workshop again, realizing you were being very quiet. You should have been overjoyed he got the thing you wanted.  

“(Y/N)?” he said frowning, “what’s wrong? You look like you’re about to cry. We got the thing…” 

“Why don’t you love me anymore?!” you sobbed, collapsing into tears. 

Hugo’s eyes got wide. He had no idea what he’d done, but he knew he’d fucked up. You rarely ever cried. He never saw tears unless he was fucking you hard enough that you couldn’t hold them back. These were not those kind of tears. 

“What?!” he gasped, trying to keep his eyes on the road, but also on you, “what do you mean? Of course I love you honey cake!” 

You shook your head, sniveling. 

“You’re so mean to meeee!” you sobbed, “I’m your business manager!” 

You hissed the words like they were poison. 

“But…that’s your job…” he murmured and realized that was the wrong answer when you sobbed even louder. 

He pulled off of the road, turning the truck off so he could focus completely on you. 

“Honey cake,” he cooed, trying to get you to stop crying, “what’s this about? What did I do? Tell me what I did and I’ll fix it.” 

You sniffed. 

“You called me your business manager,” you mumbled through your falling tears. 

He had no idea what your job title had to do with this. 

“Do you want a promotion?” he asked, “you can be president if you want!” 

“No!” you snapped, crossing your arms. 

The self-righteous jealous rage had returned. 

“I want to be your mate!” you snarled, “not some…side chick! I’m not some…some random girl who follows you around all the time! I’m certainly not your employee!” 

He was so confused. 

“You are my mate,” he said carefully and waited to see if that was right. 

You sniffed and nodded. 

“Then why didn’t you say that to the girl at the store?” you hissed, “you were totally nice to her! Do you want a mate like her?! With perfect boobs?! I’m pretty sure they weren’t even real! To Cherise I was just your business manager! ” 

Again, the words came out like they could kill, but this time all in a hurried, angry rush. Hugo looked at you for a moment and a smile grew on his face.

“Oh my god, (Y/N), you’ve got to be kidding me,” he laughed, opening up the door to his truck and getting out. 

You were triply pissed he was laughing at you and ready to tear his head off, when he pulled you out of your side of the truck and threw you over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes.

“Wh-what are you doing?” you cried, beating on his furry back, “put me down!” 

He smacked your butt with his heavy palm. 

“No,” he said, “I’m going to teach my jealous little mate a lesson.” 

“I am not jealous!” you screeched and he just chuckled. 

When he’d gotten you far enough into the forest that you were out of sight, he pulled you to his front and set you down on the ground, then got on one knee in front of you, so you were closer to eye level. 

You crossed your arms and looked away to pout, but he pulled your face back to him. 

“Look at me (Y/N),” he said, “I don’t want anyone else but you…I was being petty when I called you my business manager and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it the way you interpreted it, I wouldn’t have even said it if I thought you’d take it like that. Whatever I did to make you think I don’t want you, I’d take it back if I could.”

You sniffled, starting to feel silly and he pulled you towards him to give you a big warm bear hug, that pretty much always fixed everything, caging you in with his knee. 

“But…” he purred, his hot tongue finding the spot just behind your ear, “I can’t let you get away with thinking those sorts of thoughts…Your boobs are exquisite and the fact that you disrespected them by comparing them to other, inferior breasts is offensive…” 

Before you could say anything he was tearing yet another outfit to shreds to get at your bare skin. 

“Hugo!” you shouted, trying to stop him, but he was much too big and focused to be deterred, simply pushing his tongue into your mouth to shut you up, while he picked you up and backed you into the tree behind you. 

When he’d gotten you where he wanted you, he went straight for your now breasts, mouthing them both like they were a treat. You would have struggled with him if he hadn’t started licking your nipple with his pebbled tongue, making your pussy leak. A big warm hand cupped the other, kneading it and you keened, your head dropping back against the rough tree behind you. 

You moaned while he worked your tits over with his tongue, moving from one to the other until they were hard, sensitive points. Occasionally his sharp teeth would graze the delicate skin making you hiccup a bit. Your head was thrashing as your hair caught on the bark of the tree. 

“These are so fucking perfect,” he murmured into them, “I can’t believe you…” 

He didn’t finish his thought, returning to licking and sucking you. 

“Pleaaase,” you groaned to Hugo, you were raw from being sad and you needed him. 

“Say you’re sorry…” he demanded, denying you. 

Just enough anger was still floating around in your head for that to catch your attention. 

“Me?!” you cried incensed. 

He swirled his tongue around your nipple and you groaned without meaning to, your eyelashes fluttering. 

“You insulted your breasts,” he pouted, “I won't give it to you until you apologize.” 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” you squeaked, eagerly agreeing to his terms. 

“Say your breasts are perfect,” he said, nibbling one.

“M-my breasts a-are p-perfect…” you got out, your voice husky with need. 

“And Hugo can touch them whenever he wants,” he added.

“Hugo!” you growled, slapping his back impatiently. 

He chuckled and tossed you up a bit so your knees were hooked around his shoulders and he could get to your pussy with his tongue, before letting your back brace against the tree to keep you steady.

Juices from your already soaked pussy were dripping down his chin as he fucked you with his tongue. The thick appendage thrust in and out of you, making you cry out loud. He took his time, tasting you, before he started to lap at your clit and you came before he even got a chance to put his fingers inside of you. 

You heard his zipper before he dropped you down again and you felt his broad head breaching you. He pushed his hand behind your back to protect the bare skin from the rough tree, before slamming into you. 

With one heavy thrust, he bent down to whisper in your ear. 

“This is all for you, honey cake, no one else,” he grunted, pulling back out and pounding into you again. 

In response his name just tumbled out of your mouth again and again as his pace quickened. He fucked you like he was trying to prove a point, because he was. You were his and his alone and it bothered him that it even crossed your mind that he would want someone else, though it was cute that you were jealous. He’d already forgotten what the shop girl even looked like let alone her name, his whole focus was and would always be on you. 

You screamed, feeling his muscles tense as he forced himself not to maul you with his sharp claws as they prickled your back. He was slamming into you just hard enough that he didn’t bruise you. Fucking you took so much focus, but he loved it. 

He adored the way your hot walls tightened around his cock when he hit the right spot and the sound of your voice in his ear as you screamed his name. Your fingers were digging into his thick fur, not strong enough to hurt him in the least, but he savored the slight sting of your passion. 

“Touch yourself for me honey cake,” he groaned into your mouth and your hand obediently snaked down to your clit to finger it in the way you liked, since his were busy holding you up.

“Cum all over me, I wanna watch it…” he couldn’t help but grunt, as he felt your cunt squeeze him as you brought yourself closer and closer to completion. He loved seeing you like this, your head thrown back in passion, totally focused on pleasure. Your mouth dropped open and your brow drew slightly as your pussy flooded around his cock with your orgasm. 

“Hugo!” you screamed, your head tipping forward against him and he kissed it while he pounded through your peak. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” he growled in approval, pulling you off of the tree and yanking you up and down on his cock like a fleshlight, immediately throwing you into another, more lingering orgasm as he emptied himself inside of you and buried his teeth in your shoulder, revisiting your mating bite since apparently you'd forgotten it. The pleasure-pain combination made your eyes cross and you wailed.

“Mmmmm,” you keened, sated and happy, when he finally slid you off of him and cradled you in his big furry arms a few minutes later, licking the fresh wound.  

“Have you been sufficiently punished, my jealous little mate?” he asked as he straightened his pants and walked through the woods back to his truck. 

“I wasn’t jealous,” you pouted. 

He grinned. 

“Yeah, okay,” he said, letting you get away with it just this once. 

#werebear #werebear x human #werebear x reader #x reader #monster boyfriend #monster fucker #monster smut #yandere smut #yandere male #yandere x reader #soft yandere #monster x reader #size difference

[my-castles-crumbling]

The Deeply Threatening Physical Attributes of Werewolves

Based on an earlier headcanon I posted...

----

Defense Against the Dark Arts was one of Sirius’s favorite classes.

It wasn’t just because they got to do cool spells or the Professor had an arse that absolutely confirmed Sirius’s affinity for men.

No, it was because, through some stroke of absolute luck, he and Remus had been assigned seats at the same table.

Professor Cedar wasn’t the best– he was easily distracted and sometimes boring, but he was strict about seating, and it was purely accidental that Sirius and Remus found themselves next to each other.

Poor Prongs and Wormtail weren’t so lucky.

And, to make matters even more lovely, sharing a table in the back of the room with only Remus meant that they could hold hands under the table without the Professor catching them, even if it made them blush far too much for a Hogwarts class.

Everyone knew, of course, that Remus and Sirius weren’t just friends. Indeed, Sirius spent most of his free time on Remus’s lap. But in class, Remus usually insisted on keeping things appropriate, so it was nice to be assigned these particular seats, where Sirius could surreptitiously graze his thumb over the taller boy’s hand and admire the pink blush that appeared on his cheekbones.

Of course, it meant that Sirius hardly ever paid attention during the lecture portion of their lessons, but Remus was gracious enough to lend Sirius his notes, with the understanding that Sirius needed to behave during lessons, and not try to do that one thing he did in Potions while they were a little too high on Amortentia fumes. (Though, Remus had enthusiastically consented at the time, Sirius liked to remind him.)

So it took Sirius a minute to register what Professor Cedar was talking about that morning. Indeed, he might not have even realized, if he didn’t feel Remus tense under his fingers. He looked questioningly at Remus, and then heard the Professor say, “...are very dangerous, especially during the Full Moon. Werewolves are deadly…”

Sirius’s heart sank. They hadn’t studied werewolves since third year, but since they were now reviewing for NEWTs, the topic must be part of the review, he figured.

He met James’s concerned glance from across the room, and squeezed Remus’s hand reassuringly, hoping he would relax. But, the Professor just went on. “...vicious and terrifying, with large teeth and an instinct to kill…”

Now, that wasn’t fair, Sirius thought. The only thing vicious about Remus was the way he devoured books and chocolate. Suddenly, an idea occurred to him, and he glanced at James again, raising his eyebrows to signal to him to follow along.

“Professor?” he asked, voice saccharine and innocent.

“I– yes, Mister Black?” the Professor asked, looking taken aback.

“Do you think werewolves have a favorite color?” Sirius asked, widening his eyes with what he hoped was a naive expression. The Professor was new that year and didn’t know as much about Sirius and his friends as the other Professors, so he was much more gullible.

“I…erm…well, werewolves are part-human,” Professor Cedar answered, looking flustered, “so I’d assume they have…different preferences.”

A couple students giggled quietly.

Sirius looked sideways at Remus and saw him smirking slightly as he scribbled determinedly at his notes.

“A–anyways, I was talking about claws.” Professor Cedar said, taking a breath. “Werewolves–”

But then James interrupted. “Do werewolves eat pizza, Professor?” His voice, too, was a bit higher in pitch than usual, his face the picture of an attentive student.

“Pizza, Mister Potter?” Professor Cedar asked, looking irritated.

A few more giggles sounded from around the room.

“Y’know…when they’re not…vicious and all that,” James amended, his lips quirking up into a small smile.

The Professor studied him for a moment before saying, “I am sure some werewolves eat pizza when they aren’t in their wolf state, yes. Now–”

“And salsa?” Peter piped up, looking a little nervous.

Someone snorted.

Professor Cedar gave him a glare. “Salsa?”

But Sirius was having too much fun, now. “The dip or the dance, Pete?” he called across the room to Peter, feeling Remus chuckle next to him.

“Oh, definitely both,” James yelled out, grinning. “Are werewolves good dancers, Professor?” He asked, voice angelic.

“No,” Sirius thought he heard Remus whisper from beside him. He laughed.

“Now, boys,” Professor Cedar admonished, looking angry now as the class laughed more, “focus. We’re talking about relevant information about werewolves–”

“But Professor, this is relevant!” James shouted, eyes wide with fake panic and concern. “If something vicious is going to attack us, we need to know how scary it is! We should know a werewolf’s weaknesses, too!” He put on a face that Sirius supposed was to mimic deep contemplation, but he kind of looked constipated. Then, he stuck his pointer finger in the air, dramatically, feigning an epiphany. “I know! What are werewolves afraid of? We could scare them away!”

“Ooo, I’m afraid of spiders,” Peter said helpfully. “We could set some spiders against them?” He laughed, no doubt picturing Remus covered in spiders.

Remus laughed quietly as well, shivering a bit.

“Werewolves are not afraid of spiders, Mister Pettigrew!” the Professor yelled, looking a bit panicked now– the class was getting a bit out of control with laughter.

“Have you asked them, Professor?” Sirius asked, feigning excitement. “You’ve met one?”

“I– no, but–”

He also had no idea about Remus, they knew.

“D’you think they burp?” Lily Evans asked from the front of the class, feigning curiosity, eyes sparkling.

Sirius let out a bark of laughter. Evans knew about Remus’s condition, but he was shocked that she was being so daring in class.

“I mean, they must,” Sirius answered, grinning at her. “They are human, after all. They probably poo and everything!”

The class burst into shrieks and snorts.

“Enough!” Professor Cedar shouted over the laughter. Most students sobered quickly. “That is enough. We are here to learn about the physical attributes of the werewolf, the things that may lead to a fatal injury! We are not here to debate what type of pudding werewolves eat after dinner!”

“Chocolate,” Sirius and Remus muttered at the same time, barely stifling laughter.

But Sirius was known to overdo things, if only to make his favorite person smile, so he raised his hand one more time. “Professor? I have a question about a physical attribute of a werewolf that might be threatening.”

The Professor studied him for a long time before saying resignedly, “Alright, Mister Black. Let’s hear it.”

“Well,” he said, eyes wide and innocent, “I heard that werewolves have huge cocks. Could that be fata–?”

But he didn’t get out the rest, because the whole class, including Remus, burst into fits of laughter that took almost ten minutes to subside.

And the absolutely adoring look on Remus’s face as he looked at Sirius and laughed with the others was worth the week of detention, in Sirius’s opinion.

----

Feel free to leave Kudos on Ao3! Please don't copy to another site!

Edit: I don’t know why the link didn’t copy the first time….

#marauders #marauders era #harry potter #wolfstar #fanfic #ao3 #sirius black kinnie #james fleamont potter #james potter #sirius black #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #sirius and james #hp marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #the marauders #marauders headcanon

[gongedtornado]

hehe

#i had an original story idea today and i gotta be normal over jt #this guys name is cedar btw #kazzy scribbles