#Dove answered an ask

[beyondthetemples]

💭doing the wrong thing for the right reason .

Send 💭 + a topic and my muse will tell you what they think about it.

"That's... unfortunate. But I've heard... stories. Sometimes, people have to do something bad. Or think they have to. Sometimes people don't have a choice, and all they can really do is... just... try to do what they can... and sometimes the only thing you can do is something wrong. I think... I think the reason makes a difference, though."

[golswia]

ur cat and dog aziracrow made me think of bird vers for them, crow-ley and aziraphale as a dove or owl!!!! ur art is adorable

they scream at ur window at 4am for seeds

[casuallyanidiot]

A yandere who kidnaps you purely because he's jealous of you.

Tw. Noncon, Dead dove do not eat, Mndi, Yandere, force feminization, just general creep shit

Yandere Incel bites his lip to the point where it bleeds every time he sees you. You think you can just flounce around wherever you please and make friends, huh?

You must think you're too good for him. That must be why you seem so nervous whenever he glowers at you from the corner of your office floor. It's totally not because you've caught him trying to sniff your ass while he's behind you on the stairs.

"You're not so high and mighty now, are you?" He sneers as he shoves his cock further down your throat. He can see tears slipping out from underneath your blindfold, and he laughs cruelly. You're choking, and he just loves the way your cute little nostrils flare as you try so desperately to breath. He made you put on lipstick, and it was all smeared in little shaky rings all along his shaft and the base of his balls. You've even got some on your chin, mixed scarlet and milky white with some of his precum. He smiles between shaky moans.

He's practically buzzing as he takes in the sight of mascara streaming down your cheeks, the haphazardly tied ribbons in your hair, and the pastel pink cuffs he's bound your arms with behind your back. You're unable to fight, and he thinks you look just the way you should be all tousled and fucked out.

You've always been better than him, he thinks with gritted teeth as he then fucks into your tight ass. Your poor, bruised cheeks are littered with imprints from his hands, and they bounce with each deep, sloppy roll of his hips. He's been trying to stretch you out with toys and his hands for a while now, so that you'll finally crave him as much as he unfortunately craves you.

Yandere Incel who makes you wear the most humiliating outfits. He like making you wear frilly little skirts with thongs that barely cover your crotch. He relishes in slipping on heels that are so high and covered in bows that you couldn't possibly walk in them. He likes knowing that you can't go anywhere once he's locked you into them. Yandere Incel who starts to learn how to do makeup so that he can make you into the helpless little doll he's been imagining you as for years.

He likes having you clean and cook around the house while he watches. You have a thick dildo shoved up your twitching hole the entire time, of course. He smirks as he watches you tremble from the force of another forced orgasm while you struggle through the dishes. He remembers how you used to be, proud and great at woke. You used to wear nicely tailored suits with a practiced smiles while getting all the praise in the world. Well now he has you, and you have no choice but to rely on him for attention now.

He smirks as he holds you tightly at night. He knows how pretty you were, how competent and well put together you used to be. Of course you had loads of people trying to get with you. Don't you know that he would kill to be in your shoes? Well, not anymore he wouldn't. Not when, out of everyone else who admired you, he's the one that made you his beloved little house spouse.

In a lot of ways, it's something to envy.

[inkblot22]

Give You Something To Cry About

Yay, my time management skills continue to be straight ass. Sorry to the anon who has waited so patiently for this, and thank you so much for giving me an excuse to write this depraved ball of snot. Headers by @/cafekitsune. Also don't believe everything you see on the internet, there's no scientific proof that certain things work for your skin. I think Vil would know that, considering.

This Fic Is For: Anyone who can handle it! Once again, I tried to make it as gn as possible, considering Rook's use of Franglais, but I'm delusional and will say I did exactly that. Reader is referred to with they/them pronouns, and no real allusions to specific body parts are made for them.

TW for DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT, forced dieting, non/dubcon, mentions of death, questionable use of magic, captivity, someone has a case of dacryphilia and a strong sadist streak, won't say who, Rook Hunt because he freaks me out, unhealthy relationship dynamics, abuse, forced BDSM if you squint, I feel so bad for the reader in this one, toxic relationships, possibly OOC characters.

“I am not going to tell you again, my love.” Vil bends down to get in your face, already wearing his ceremonial robe and heels. He points a finger in your face, like you’re a small child or a dog, “If you continue to pick at your skin, I am going to let Rook punish you this time.”

You swallow and look away, and Vil pinches your cheeks between his thumb and fingers, pulling your head so you’re looking at him again. His violet eyes bore into you, and you swallow again.

He looks offended, almost, “Well? Have you forgotten basic manners? Speak.”

Your voice sounds dry and weak, “Yes, Vil. I understand.”

He seems satisfied enough with that, moving around as he continues to prepare for whatever school-wide assembly is happening today. He elegantly tucks his hair behind his ear and sighs, scrolling through some page on his phone.

You remain standing where you are, turning your head to look out the window. It’s so pretty outside, but you only get to leave this room whenever Rook is watching you or Vil sends you on an errand. It’s always spring, never too hot, never too cold, but you’re sweating anyway.

Vil approaches you again and tilts your face back so you’re looking at him with a hand on your cheek. His eyes narrow a fraction.

“Your skin doesn’t seem to like this foundation. Make sure you discard it today; I’ll get you a new one.” He bends down again, this time to press a chaste kiss to your lips. He rubs his own together after pulling away and smudges his thumb over your bottom lip, “Hmm. What lipgloss is this?”

Your voice doesn’t sound so dry, but it still doesn’t sound like you, “Uh… The dark red one with the metallic purple? ‘Electric Berry’?

He’s silent for a second, just staring down at your lips as he cups your chin, and then he sighs and turns away, “It’s sticky. I’d tell you to wash your face and reapply your makeup, but that’d be a waste. Make sure you put on lip balm next time.”

You swallow, “Yes, Vil. I understand.”

“I have to get going now. You’d better be at least halfway done with that list by the time I return.” He breezes towards the door and gives you a last, long look. He’s completely silent before he leaves, closing the door behind him.

Your palms ache. You stiltedly wander towards the list pinned in the closet, glad to see it’s not insane today. All you need to do is tidy the bathroom and skim through Vil’s mail to see if it’s anything but hate mail or advertisements. Tack on getting rid of that foundation and that’s it, at least until he returns at lunch.

You relished this time to yourself, even if it was just cleaning or whatever else. Vil always said that motion is good for you, a structure does the mind good. You didn’t care much anymore. As you sat down to search through his mail, finding nothing but the usual hate mail and what appears to be a poem from Rook (why did he even mail that? He’s not even down the hall from this room,) you catch yourself craving something sweet.

The diet Vil has you on sucks. He has assured you that your body is lovely, and he is having you eat like this to help clear your skin, but really you just want something. Anything, you’d even take a breath mint over this lack of junk food. You’re young, what young person doesn’t enjoy gratuitously unhealthy food? A basket of french fries? Ice cream? 

You frown to yourself and toss the last of the mail into the recycle bin. You know he’s just going to check it over again anyway, but at least you’re moving around. That’s what he would say.

By the time you’re almost done scrubbing the tub, you hear the door open. You don’t want to go greet him, so you pretend you didn’t hear anything and keep cleaning, making sure to disinfect the non-slip mat that resembles a bunch of ugly gems glued together. 

You hear him clicking towards you, and his hand rests on your shoulder, “Going above and beyond today? I have lunch, come eat.”

You school your expression and stand up, pulling off your cleaning gloves and hanging them on the rim of the tub before you follow Vil. He ensconces himself in his desk chair, leaving you to awkwardly lift the stool near his vanity. He hates it when you push the furniture.

He clucks his tongue, not even looking at you, “Lift with your knees, darling. As much as I’d love to massage your back if you pull something, I simply don’t have the time.”

You can’t help it. You shoot him the nastiest glare you can muster as you lift with your knees, right as his eyes flick up to meet yours. You nearly drop the chair as his lips curl into a cold smirk.

“Do you have something to say?”

You hastily shake your head, “No, Vil-”

“Then don’t allow me to see that expression on your face again.” He bites, “Come sit down.”

You put the stool down a little harder than you mean to and take a seat beside Vil at his desk. He passes you your nice little container containing one of several things he gets you- a pile of leafy greens and chopped veggies on a bed of quinoa, fresh fruit, and a murky green smoothie topped with chia seeds.

 You don’t like chia seeds. They remind you of frog eggs- a bunch of slimy lumps, sliding down your throat. You accept the straw Vil passes to you and stir the smoothie before eating in silence.

Vil doesn’t mind if you don’t thank him for feeding you. Since he’s keeping you here, it’s pretty much the least he could do. Still, it doesn’t make up for hearing about his boring day.

“This morning’s assembly was complete and utter chaos, as usual.” He muses, sipping his own smoothie. It’s a soft purple. “It’s ridiculous. Those brutes never wear their robes correctly.”

You don’t respond. There’s two reasons: first of all, you don’t care, and secondly, there’s a knock at the door. Vil hums, as though he’s been waiting for someone, and turns to face the door.

“Who is it?”

That boisterous voice you are so used to hearing echoes past the door, “‘Tis I, Roi du Poison. I have come to join you for lunch.”

You can hear the smile in Vil’s voice, “Oh, of course. Come in.”

As Rook walks in, you feel a stab of jealousy in your chest. He takes a breezy seat on the loveseat in front of Vil’s bed and glances at you. You break eye contact and dully pick at your salad.

Vil treats Rook so nicely. He considers his feelings and opinions, although he doesn’t always listen. He speaks to him as though he’s a person. You suppose Vil’s obvious care for Rook trickles down to you in some capacity, but it hurts. Vil claims that the two of you are lovers, but really you’re more like a doll.

“Do you mind meeting me in the lab later on, Rook?”

Rook chuckles from where he is and you cast another glance at him. His eyes meet yours, again, and you look away, again.

“I can always make time for you, beautiful Vil.”

You lamely pick at the fruit, having finished the salad, before you decide to save it for last. You take a sip of your smoothie after stirring it again and openly recoil, trying not to cough. You didn’t smell it, but there must be ginger in there, because there’s a mellow burn alongside the bitterness from the kale. It makes your eyes water and settles in behind your nose.

“Mmm. Something wrong?” Vil smiles at you.

You shake your head, blinking rapidly so you don’t start crying. There’s not enough tears to fall, but taking your chances is stupid, “No, Vil. The ginger just caught me off guard.”

“Oh. My apologies, I should have warned you. I don’t want you catching a cold, and you’ve been a little irregular. The smoothie also has spinach, kale, avocado, chia seeds, and, of course, a little mango.”

You nod and force yourself to smile, taking another sip and soldiering past the rush of that aromatic pain in your sinuses. “Oh, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, darling.” Vil turns away from you to speak to Rook again, “What else did you have planned?”

“I thought I might take a walk. It is a wonderful day, non?” There’s a slight mocking tone to Rook’s voice, “Hardly the type of day to be cooped up all day, hmm?”

Vil furrows his eyebrows as you choke down the last of the smoothie. His voice is curt, “You can say what you mean.”

“Est-ce que je peux? You are not very open to suggestion.”

Vil narrows his eyes at Rook, taking a deep sip of his smoothie before he places it on the coaster sitting upon his desk. He uncrosses his long legs and stands, walking over to sit with Rook on the loveseat. Rook watches him approach with a smile, the same pleasant one he usually wears before he shoots you a beaming grin and turns to look at Vil.

Their conversation is hushed, and you can’t really make out all of what they say. You can hear someone say your name, Vil’s tone swiftly turns vitriolic, then sweetens once more, and Rook chuckles under his breath. When their little meeting is over, Vil walks back over and finishes his smoothie before petting your head like you’re some kind of cat.

His hand strokes the crown of your head, then smooths over your cheek, he cups your jaw and thumbs over the swell of your lip, all while staring at you with a look you cannot read. And then he tilts his head, and smiles.

“Make sure you thank Rook. And you mistook a letter from my father as garbage.”

“Yes, Vil.” You reply obediently, “Sorry, Vil.”

He smiles. Your palms ache, and you have to bite back the urge to move, to peel at your cuticles or scratch the sides of your fingers.

“I’ll see you in class, Rook.” Vil says politely before he tilts your face up and pecks you on the lips.

You’re left alone with Rook. He doesn’t get up, not yet. You remain where you are, looking at your slippers. You hear Rook stand up and discard his garbage. You can feel him come up to stand behind you. 

“Has today been particulièrement difficile? My poor dear… You seem so sad today.” His arms wrap around you, looping them around your shoulders so they warm your collarbones like a scarf and he can rest his cheek against the back of your head. You hear him take a deep breath in.

With Vil, you don’t even try to speak anymore. You know he won’t really listen to you, because he knows better than you… But with Rook, as long as you wait a moment to make sure he is done speaking, he welcomes and even encourages you to speak your mind.

Your breath hitches and you swallow, “Uh, I mean… I guess I’m just having a bad day. It’s really been the same as usual.”

“Hmm.” Rook hums, completely devoid of emotion. You feel him turn his face so his nose is buried in your hair. He presses a kiss against your hair and sighs, “Ah, yes, the monotony of life is très épuisant, mmm?”

You wait for a second, then deliberately don’t answer the question in favor of asking your own, “Um, he said I should thank you?”

“Perhaps you should ask why more clearly. I have convinced our very own Vil to allow me to arrange a surprise for you.” Rook removes himself from your back and turns you around to face him, “And thus, I believe I have earned a kiss from you.”

“Wait, what?” You don’t get time to really back away or tell him to explain, as Rook squishes your cheeks with one of his gloved hands until your lips part.

His grip isn’t as harsh as Vil’s, but this is still something that only happens when you’re in more trouble than usual, so you involuntarily wince and close your eyes, cowering away from Rook as he dips his tongue into your mouth and slithers it between your teeth.

It is very easy to like Rook. He is passionate, and he’s far more kind to you than your supposed lover is. He’s intelligent and has an adonis-like form, and if not for the taste of blood on his tongue from whatever he ate for lunch or the grip he has on your face, maybe you would enjoy this kiss. But the big issue is that Rook honestly frightens you a little.

It’s absolutely not his fault, not entirely. Upon first meeting him, it was hard to tell if he was being genuine. He’s difficult to read, as he is often wearing the same set of expressions and his tone is always a bit melodramatic.

His hand releases your face to clamp around the base of your head, his tongue twisting in your mouth, pressing against the crevices in your teeth.

Not only is Rook hard to read, he is also uncannily observant and will not hesitate to ask somewhat invasive questions about his observations. The fact that he dresses in a way that conceals his mass is also disconcerting, as you were unaware that he had such a build until you saw him roll up his sleeve one time. You were aware Vil could do a lot of damage, but that was the day you realized that Rook was capable of doing about as much as Vil, if not more.

He purrs into your mouth, the vibrations feeling oh-so-wrong, and his other hand clamps down on your shoulder. He sucks your tongue into his mouth. It’s not a good feeling, as he is literally stealing what little air is in your mouth. When you feel something feather light flutter against your lashes and cheek, you feel a bit confused for just a moment, not even a second, before you realize that Rook just blinked. His eyes are open. 

He pulls away and sighs, almost dreamily. You suppress your distressed sputtering, holding your breath as Rook stares at you.

“Ah, enough time has passed. I will need to leave you, mon lapin. Thank you for indulging me; your kiss was divine and tasted sweeter than the finest fruits!” He presses something into your palm and adjusts his hat before he casts you a wave and shuts the door.

You stand there, your lips drying out from the saliva left on them and your cheeks feeling a little odd from the way he was holding your face. You’re processing, because, ever as always, Rook is simulated spontaneity. So many things just happened, and you don’t… 

You blink a few times and look down at your aching palm stupidly. The crimson cellophane crinkles as you unclench your fist. He gave you a piece of candy.

Just looking at it makes you start crying. One second you’re staring wide-eyed at the little lump of sugar, and the next your vision is blurring and you’re crying off your makeup, plump tears cascading down your face. Your nose begins to run and you sniffle. You can’t find it in yourself to sob, because you’re mostly certain that these are happy tears. 

Unfortunately, you can’t eat the candy now. If you threw the wrapper away, Vil would notice it in the garbage and you’d get in trouble for “breaking your diet plan.” So you hide it in the very back corner of the drawer of Vil’s armoire. You’ll be tidying it on your own anyway, and Vil never reaches all the way into the back of it.

Once your tears have stopped, you stand up and go back to cleaning the bathroom. It’s spotless and smells like lavender and lemons about an hour before Vil gets back, so you decide to skim one of the books on the shelves. 

It’s not long before you’re bored with that as well. You carefully put the book back and wander over to the lattice window, staring out of it. The window, paired with your usual low mood, made you sort of feel like a bird in a very ornate cage. 

From where you are, about three stories up, you notice a familiar figure notching an arrow before he unnotches it and takes a knee. You blandly spectate as he fiddles with the bow.

Partway through him notching the arrow again, you see his hat tilt. He’s far away enough that you can’t see his eyes, but you can feel his stare. His gloved hand bends his brim and you jerk away from the window, only to bump into someone.

You don’t get to shriek, as a hand clamps over your mouth. It’s just Vil, but you don’t relax yet as he drags you towards the bed and deposits you there.

“How many times must I tell you to stay away from the window?”

He’s never once told you to stay away from the window. Not as far as you can recall, at least. Your lips tremble and you decide it’d be more wise to keep silent.

Vil glares down at you and you feel the rest of your body start to tremble. His lips curl into a displeased sneer, “You didn’t wash your face after crying?”

“N-no, Vil-”

“We do not stutter.” Vil hisses, bending to get in your face. He stares at you for a moment before standing straight again, “Speak up.”

You swallow and clench your hands into fists, “No… Vil. I… got rid of the foundation like you, um… asked me to. I wouldn’t have been able to redo-”

“Alright. Go wash your face.” Vil interrupts you again.

You jump up and rush into the bathroom, going through your skincare routine. You can feel Vil staring at you, your skin crawling under his gaze. As you rub moisturizer into your skin, Vil finally says something.

“Did Rook do something to you, darling?” His tone is soft, tentative.

You glance at him, blinking a few times. What does he mean by ‘something’? He did do something, but it wasn’t bad, or particularly different.

“Um… Not exactly.” You say, massaging your forehead.

“I see. What did he do?” 

You look down at the sink. You’re not saying anything about the candy. “Rook kissed me?”

“That should not be a question.” Vil says. You see him shake his head through your peripheral, “Would you like to change your clothes before I redo your makeup?”

You’d like to ask what he’s talking about, but instead, you look down at your clothing. You don’t have a proper Pomefiore uniform because you’re not a part of this dorm. You’re an interloper- or a caged bird.

You don’t know what to do here. You don’t want to say something wrong and unintentionally offend Vil. Your palms ache. You give him a confused look from where you are.

He doesn’t look impressed, but before he can say anything about you gaping at him, you speak up, “What… am I supposed to do?”

You’ve only seen Vil surprised a few times. He raises his eyebrows and looks at you as though you’ve grown two heads, then sighs, “Well, I suppose I’d like to see you in something else. I’ll choose your outfit.”

That’s nothing new, he always does that. You wait in the bathroom for him to return. He strolls back in with a mockery of the Pomefiore uniform. There’s a deep purple cloak and capelet, which Vil drapes on the bed before handing you the actual clothes. It’s a very ruffled dress shirt, the long, puffy sleeves cinched into more ruffles at the wrist paired with a pair of black bloomer-style shorts. The buttons are all white and gold, marbled together. 

Vil leaves the bathroom and you change, neatly tucking your previous clothing away in the hamper. When you leave, as usual, Vil picks at your clothing, making sure it looks as good on you as he pleases, and then he steers you to sit down.

For however vicious he can be, Vil can be oddly gentle. For every time he grabs you roughly, his touch is feather-light ten more times. He hums a soft tune as he puts light makeup on you, just your eyes and lips, and then he drapes the cloak around your shoulders and places his hands on his hips.

“You look lovely. Go put on the pair of gold boots with the black decals.”

You do as told. He very likely wants to just take pictures of you or something so he can ask that Mira app about it.

Except when you stop in front of him, he doesn’t tell you to go sit in the loveseat or on the table near his window, no, he scoops you up and presses his forehead against your jaw.

“Oh, when did you put on this cologne? What a ravishing smell on you.” He presses a kiss on the column of your throat and breezes out of his dorm room's door.

Almost immediately, you go limp in his arms, like a doll. He never gave you explicit verbal permission to leave this room, so the curse he placed on you when he decided you should be his smashes into you like a giant wave at the beach.

Vil carries you all the way outside and looks at your face, then happily struts along the path behind the dorm. Since you can’t turn your head, you can only go off of the view of Vil’s neck and chin, the sky, and whatever you can hear.

“Ah, I am glad to see you did not change your mind, Roi du Poison. J'aurais été très déçue et triste pour notre chéri.” You hear Rook say. 

You can almost feel Vil get a mite warmer, “Yes, well. Hand me the basket. Since you want to make out with them and make them cry, you get to carry them as an apology.”

Rook happily scoops you out of Vil’s arms, giving you a cloying look as he strolls along. He and Vil chat as they walk, something not really worth listening in on, just boring musings about class and “this teacher did x” or “that student did y”. An insect lands on your cheek and you are incapable of batting it away or expressing your discomfort. Its legs tickle the peach fuzz on your face and you remain still, like a corpse.

Rook slides you into a seated position, posing you like a toy before shooing the bug off of your face. Now you can see that you’re in a clearing in the woods, seated on a picnic blanket. There’s a few lanterns staked into the ground, and Rook and Vil are busy with whatever is on the floor. You can’t look down, so your best guess is that it’s a picnic.

Vil leans over and snaps in your face, smiling kindly at you, “Now. If I release you, you are not going to run. You are not going to so much as consider running. We are going to have a nice picnic with no shenanigans from you.”

You can’t nod, so you just stare at him, trying to telepathically communicate.

He looks pleased enough, “Wonderful. I give you permission to leave our room.”

Your muscles relax and you look back, finding that you’re leaned against a log. The picnic spread is very nice, as well. It looks like finger sandwiches. You’re not expecting to get to eat one, as you haven’t had bread since Vil switched up your diet. Vil passes something to you.

“Oh.” You mumble, staring at the plate Vil hands you. 

It’s a sandwich. A very wonderful looking sandwich, cut into triangles and with the crusts still on. You blink at it a few times and look back up at Vil.

“Don’t expect this to be a pattern. This is a treat for good behavior.”

You look back down, “Yes, Vil.”

“There’s no need to remind them. They’re being obedient.” Rook’s voice is more firm than you expected to hear him ever speak. Usually his tone is buoyant, and you’ve never seen him outright pick a fight with Vil like this.

“Please. You give anyone an inch, they’ll take a mile.” Vil cuts back, then turns to you and pets your head like a dog or a cat again, “Eat your food, beautiful.”

You take a bite. Bread is just as good as you remember it. The air feels thick, like you’re in a bubble as Vil and Rook communicate through eye contact alone. Before you know it, your sandwich is gone and your hands are covered in crumbs. Rook, still staring at Vil with that happy little smile, wipes your hands and places a glass in your hands. Whatever is in it smells sweet. You take a tentative sip.

Were it Vil, you would have never drank whatever this is. It kind of tastes like a mellow mixed berry juice. It’s very pleasant, actually. Better than the potion Vil used to lace your food and drinks with. You smile into the cup and Vil snatches it from you.

He takes a sip and frowns, handing it back, “Mmm. I have an even better surprise.”

Rook pulls your legs into his lap and gently kneads your calves as you watch Vil rifle through the picnic basket. What is happening? You sip your juice and Vil produces a triangular container. He places a fork on top and hands it to you.

You finish the last of your juice and accept the box, looking conspiratorially at Rook. Something you can’t put your finger on dances in his eyes and he digs his thumb into your shin a little strongly. You flinch and cautiously open the box. It’s a piece of fluffy white cake, with even fluffier meringue and an uncannily perfect cherry wedged into it.

You look at Vil, expecting some kind of trick. Not that he’s ever done that before, usually he’d just take it from you or make some snide comment, things like that, but he and Rook are acting really strange today, 

“I know how much you long for junk food, so I spent some time after club activities today whipping up some angel food cake. It’s got agave instead of sugar so it won’t completely break your diet and your skin won’t suffer as much.”

Yeah, this is weird. The cake is good, though, it’s fluffy and sweet. You pace your bites so that Vil won’t make a comment and you can savor this. You can feel both of their eyes on you and it makes your skin crawl.

You lower the cake box and look at Vil, who looks a bit offended for just a second. The fleeting expression is replaced by a pleased little grin, the mauve lipstick making the curve of his lips all the more sinister in the dimming light.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, Vil.” You glance at the cake and then back at him, “I’m… I’m sorry, I’m a little confused.”

“Why?” Rook asks.

Your shoulders jerk as you turn your head to look at him. You weren’t expecting him to say anything. His chest swells in what appears to be a suppressed chuckle as he squeezes your knee. It seems his hands have climbed.

“Uh…” You swallow, “This is just… not what I’m used to.”

“The cake?” Vil looks hurt. Why does he look hurt?

You shake your head rapidly, “No! Oh- No, Vil. I… It’s just been so long since I’ve been out here…”

“Do you want to go inside, chéri?” Rook murmurs.

You do, but you also don’t really want to risk sounding ungrateful. Being outside has stressed you out more than you’d like to admit. You’re not really sure what to do because Vil has you trained like a dog, and none of what he’s hammered into you involves picnics. You’re scared.

Rooks eyes narrow as you just stare at him. Your chest hurts from how hard your heart is throbbing, and on the other side of you, Vil sighs.

“Well, I’ll start cleaning up, then. When we get back, I expect you to take a seat on the bed.”

That sounds like what happens every time you get in trouble. A terror shudders through you and your eyes water a bit as you gnaw on your lip. Your palms ache as you fight to keep from picking at your cuticles. Vil packs up everything and Rook offers you a princely hand to help you up.

You can feel the calluses on his hands through his gloves as he essentially lifts you to your feet. You keep between Rook and Vil as you walk back to the dorm.

It’s quiet, since everyone else is winding down for bed. For a moment, you think you spot Epel, but you’re not sure. It doesn’t matter anyway. None of your old friends talk to you anymore. Not since Vil started having eyes for you.

Just as you were told, after taking off your boots you take a seat on the bed and retrieve the silver ruler from the side-table’s drawer. You place it beside you as you look down at your feet. You look down at the streaky bruises on the lighter skin on your palms and try not to start crying. It’s always worse when you cry.

He adds smacks by twos. Depending on what you did, you start with four or six, and then any time you flinch or pull away or make a loud noise, he adds two more. Last time, you spilled one of his nail polishes, and after watching you clean it up, you ended up getting ten lashes.

At least Rook didn’t do it then. He tries to make it quick but that just makes it hurt more. A tear slips down your cheek.

You don’t even know what you did. You tap the tear track dry with one fingertip and Vil and Rook fully enter the room.

“Why is the ruler out?” Vil asks, and then his voice goes sharp, “Are you crying?”

“I’m… I’m sorry, Vil.” You sob.

“I don’t know why.” He grabs the ruler and shoves it away before you can raise your hands, “Go wash your face.”

You stand up and shakily do as told, returning to sit on the bed. Vil goes into the bathroom after you and Rook takes a seat next to you, his hand on your shoulder.

He smiles at you, rubbing your shoulder, “You are très précieux, chéri.”

You look at him in a state of hollow bewilderment as he brushes his cheek against yours and presses a soft kiss to the shell of your ear.

You hear the bathroom door close and a tired sigh from Vil, “Do you have no patience?”

Your head jerks to look at VIl, “Rook is…?”

“Yes, he’s joining us tonight.” Vil plucks the loop of his sleeve from his middle finger and loosens his belt. You get the feeling that the next words he says aren’t for you, “Well, go ahead.”

You feel Rook’s chuckle more than you hear it. With his lips against your neck, his hands begin to slide. The hand on your shoulder rests on the nape of your neck and his other hand slides down to your thigh, then up to your waist. You try not to cringe against his touch, but it’s difficult.

His hand slides down again as he trails his teeth against the back of your ear. His thumb hooks in your pants and starts yanking them down. You outright flinch.

“Wait-”

“Relax, darling.” Vil mumbles, hanging his clothing in the armoire.

You try. You absolutely try. Rook throws your bloomers aside and rests his hand on your lower belly for a moment. He sighs into your ear and reaches up to unclasp your buttons.

You feel stiff. You want to push him away but you can’t move. It’s as though your body is frozen. It’s not due to a curse, so the only possible solution is that you’re quite literally scared stiff. 

He pulls away your shirt and glances at Vil, “Are you prepared?”

“Please.” You can hear the smile on Vil’s lips as Rook turns back and kisses you again, his hand smoothing along your collarbone and shoulders.

Your underwear is the next to go. Of course it is. You fight to keep from breathing oddly, because you’re aware that if you pass out, Vil will get annoyed.

“Mmm.” The devil’s hand glides up your back and you fight back a shudder as Rook leans you backwards into his arms. “How are you feeling, darling?”

You’re honest, “I’m scared.”

“I thought you would say that.” Vil freely manhandles you, shifting you so you’re leaned chest to chest. He slides something off of the side table and passes it behind you, then cups your cheek, “You would save a lot of time and stress if you’d just learn to trust me.”

“I…” You hate him. You hate him so much. He keeps you here like a pet, and you don’t know how he’s supposed to expect you to treat him like a lover when he treats you the way he does. 

Before you can articulate an answer that pleases Vil, a wicked burn besets your sphincter and you clench your jaw. 

Vil’s voice is sharp, “Rook, please.”

You hear Rook make a noise underneath the harsh sound of blood rushing in your ears and your own heavy panting. Something cool oozes around the ring of your ass and you press your face against Vil’s chest. His robe is lazily tied, which is not particularly like him, and you can see his cock poking out where the fabric separates. You let out a strangled noise and Vil shushes you, rubbing your back soothingly.

“Relax. I know, you weren’t prepared. Relax.” Vil soothes.

“I don’t mind if you remain tense, chéri. Mon plaisir n'en est que plus grand. And your little cries and whimpers sont terriblement mignons.” Rook mumbles behind you.

Rook is better than Vil in most areas, but once he gets his dick inside of you, it’s as though he forgets to be caring and kind. The tables flip, with Vil acting the part of a caring lover and Rook becoming a sadistic bully. You let out a ragged sob as Rook rolls his hips and Vil hisses something that you don’t quite catch.

It almost sounded like he was telling Rook to slow down. That very well could have been the case, as Rook eases back a bit and only shallowly thrusts.

Vil continues petting you, coaxing you so your cheek is pressed against his thigh. He is always a perfect warm. He is always perfect, so it sort of makes sense, but his skin is a pleasant temperature. He feels alive, a perfectly human temperature that tells you he’s breathing and his heart is beating. As he fingers through your hair, Rook gives a harsher than usual thrust and you cry out.

“Rook, if you’re impatient then you’re going to hurt them, and neither of us have the time to take care of them all day.” Vil chides, and then his tone softens as he rubs the space between your shoulders, “Are you ready for me as well, darling?” “What…?” You ask, blearily. Somewhere in the back of your awareness, you know what he wants, but you can feel Rook’s thrusts growing impatient and seeing as you weren’t given any prep, you’re in a bit too much shock to think straight.

“Mmm… You’re awfully cute but I need you to be a bit more lucid.” Vil snaps in your ear and resumes his petting, “This isn’t the first time, sweetheart. I’m not going to hold your hand.”

The soft tip of his member spreads his pre like lipgloss against your lips. As you shakily open your mouth, you figure you’re lucky that Vil doesn’t have a chaotic, unhealthy diet like Leona or Ace, that he doesn’t drink coffee for fun or often like Deuce does. The taste of his skin is lightly floral and dominantly human, likely thanks to the body lotion he applies daily. 

He hisses and presses against your forehead, “Ah-ah. You’re taking enough from Rook. Just the tip for me is fine.”

From behind, you hear Rook grumble under his breath, “Je n'en peux plus de cette merde…”

“Watch your- unf- watch your language, Rook.” Vil snarls, massaging the nape of your neck as you carefully lave your tongue over his glans.

Rook’s patience breaks, his hands clamping down on your waist, just above your hips. You have the sense to pull Vil’s cock out of your mouth as Rook begins battering into you.

As much as you feel okay about Rook, he is not a doting lover by nature. He’s mean and brutal, chasing his climax, and only after he cums does he bother to think about you or your needs. Your palms ache as you grab Vil’s member and gently tug on it. Vil flinches and snaps at you to get your attention.

You look to the side and for a second, as the pain ebbs, you assume you’re having an out of body experience, and then you realize that you’re staring into his vanity mirror. Rook’s hair exaggeratedly sways with his motion. He removed his hat but just haphazardly displaced the rest of his clothing. He’s not smiling, he’s making some sort of smug expression.

It’s funny. As Vil is satisfied with you weakly jerking him off, his touch gentle, Rook is wild on your other end. Every time you just barely begin to relax, he thrusts harder, which makes you tense and a spike of pain batters through you. 

You endure as best you can. You endure every day, enduring through eating the same unfulfilling food, enduring through walking on eggshells around Vil, enduring getting your palms beaten to hell for the most human of errors, so what’s getting sodomized in the face of everything else you can handle?

You bite back a shriek as a harsh pinch on your bottom, followed by a smack administered by Rook. He leans down and blows in your ear, snickering as he leans back, “I thought you had given up the ghost for a second there.”

Vil sucks in a breath and you quietly mumble against his thigh.

“Hmm? I didn’t hear you, mon chou.” Rook’s voice is almost mocking, like before.

“P-please… Rook, I can’t-”

“You can. You’ll live.” He grunts, the steady clap of your ass against his body punctuating his statement.

“It hurts.” You sniffle. You’re not particularly prone to crying, but, then again, Rook and Vil usually prepare you before deciding to fuck your ass.

You sob and Rook’s grasp tightens on your waist, a ragged moan punching out of his chest. He pulls your body flush to his and jerks his hips into you, drilling a bit harder for all of four or five thrusts. And then he’s no longer on you, and you feel your body getting shifted so your head is still in Vil’s lap but you’re lying prone.

You tilt Vil’s dick down to massage the head with your tongue and something warm drips on your back. You hear a noise of disgust from Vil, capped by a quiet moan.

“Absolutely not. All three of us are getting in the tub if you don’t clean that up right now.”

Rook chuckles and coos, “Hmm, but it looks so lovely. My alabaster essence creates a wonderful contrast with their soft and supple skin.”

A flush of humiliation crawls up the back of your neck and you hide your face against Vil’s belly, using your own arm to hide the other half. Vil shudders as he pushes your head down a bit, but his voice sounds incredulous.

“That’s vile. It doesn’t have any proven health benefits, you know that.”

You felt Rook’s hands spreading his semen into the skin on your back and your palms ache as Vil cums in your mouth. He doesn’t do that often, so it hits you like a shock.

You gag but force it down and Vil shoots up, fretting over you.

“Did you just swallow that?” He bends down to look into your eyes.

“Yes, Vil.”

“You didn’t need to do that.” Vil snips, sounding much harsher than he might intend, “I’m going to run us a bath, alright, darling? I’ll make sure you can brush that icky stuff out of your mouth.”

It didn’t taste bad. Vil usually cums on your face as an incentive for you to wash your face very well after a day of wearing makeup, or he has you jerk him off until he cums, but the few other times you did taste it, it was the same as this time. It was mostly salty, not too bitter, likely from his good diet. Regardless, he breezes away and Rook gives your bottom a light tap. You stand up and glance at Rook, who is looking a bit disheveled but pretty pleased with himself.

“How are you feeling, cheri?”

“That hurt.” Your voice is quiet, and your throat is still lined with tears.

“Does it still hurt?” He smiles and tilts his head.

The sound of the tub running is thunderous even where you are. Vil would never tolerate you complaining, but Rook is amicable, “A little.”

“The bath will do you good, then. Come.”

You let Rook guide you into the bathroom, his hand on your elbow. As he undresses and joins Vil on the edge of the tub, you look down at your bruised hands and glance at the slowly closing bathroom door, then at Rook and Vil where they stand near the tub.

You can’t say you prefer either of them, really, but you don't get an opinion. Do dolls at tea parties get to ask for a different kind of tea?

[katiefrog217]

Does Crowley Snake have to unhinge his jaw to show affection to Azirabirb?

This is somewhat irrelevant to the ask, but I'm going to hit you with a snake fact while I'm here:

It is a common misconception that snakes unhinge their jaws to swallow larger prey. Rather, the bones of their lower jaw aren't fused and are connected by a very elastic ligament that allows their jaws to open wider than would normally be allowed!

Now onto the actual point of the ask: if I'm reading this correct, you could be implying that Crowley could be doing some silly nom-nom stuff for affection, but to that I'd have to say no.

In my mind, Snake Crowley shows affection to Azirabirb by wrapping around him, holding him with his wings, and allowing Azirabirb to touch his back and head (snakes can be incredibly shy about having their faces touched, and anywhere near their spine).

Thank you for the ask! Have a little doodle! :DD

[trashogram]

Dicentra

Husk/Reader

WARNING: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Includes Cheating/Infidelity, Heartbreak, Mental Breakdown, Betrayal, Despair, Alcoholism/Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Hurt No Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Not Huskerdust Friendly, Pretentious Title

(I kinda lost motivation to finish the ending, apologies. Oh also I cried.)

You stood there in silence.

      The cool mahogany of the door and its frame held you in place. The doorjamb dug into your side, the only thing grounding you. It was a minor discomfort that kept you fixed to the floor of the hotel rather than sinking through it the way your heart had sunk down from your chest. 

Husk and Angel seemed none the wiser to your accidental voyeurism, so caught up in the moment were they. You might’ve expected as much, given how unapologetically loud the spider demon was being. His vocalizations were what led you to this room. 

To listen at the door.

     Husk’s expression was one of concentration, eyes closed as he took the pornstar from behind, almost punishingly. 

The doorstop. 

Digging into you.

It couldn’t have been more than 30 seconds that you stood there. Less than that. Maybe less than 20 seconds with your whole world crashing down around you. 

     The door closed without a sound before you walked away. 

-*- 

You took the elevator down to the lobby of the Hazbin Hotel in a trance. Everything was eerily quiet as the normally raucous area proved to be vacant when you arrived. 

      It was so quiet. The lobby, yes, but also inside of you. There was no rush of thought or pounding heart to remind you that you still existed. You walked through space and time without feeling. 

A gentle susurration of whispers stopped you, and your eyes slid to Alastor materializing from his living shadow to greet you. 

       His ever-present smile did not waver, but his claret eyes were knowing. The cluck of his tongue was the closest signal to pity that he seemed capable of, though the sincerity behind it was suspect. 

“I’m so sorry, my dear.” He said. The words were sticky with overly-exaggerated compassion. “It’s unfortunate that you had to find out this way.” 

The Overlord’s words caused not so much as a twinge of surprise. It slotted into place in your mind the way pieces of a puzzle did. If anyone knew Husk’s deepest, darkest secrets, it would be Alastor. 

“…Do you know… for how long?” You asked, emotionless. 

“I wouldn’t waste my time keeping a record of how my pets carry on outside of their duties.” Alastor’s tone curdled with disgust. “But, I think the time for playing pretend is over my dear. You know very well that this isn’t the first time he’s betrayed you.”

You looked past Alastor, taken by an instant of dismay — Husk had been cutting back on the booze for you. He hadn’t done it as a grand gesture or even verbalized it, but the gradual change wasn’t unnoticeable. 

     It made you proud. Happy. To have that effect on someone, especially someone you cared for so dearly. Someone you loved. 

    A month ago you’d felt a flash of concern as he emptied a second party-sized bottle of hard liquor. It had been a long time since he’d needed more than one to get through the day since you and he had started dating. At the time, you hadn’t said anything. There were numerous possibilities as to why he might need another pick-me-up. And you’d convinced yourself that pushing him on the subject would only inspire an argument. 

     You hated to argue. So you kept your worries to yourself as that instance turned into multiple. 

“Yes.” You said softly. “I do.” 

Alastor’s head cocked to the side as he studied you. 

He sighed. 

“Naturally I detest meddling with affairs of the heart.” He informed you. “But, if you’re willing to make a deal with me, I may be able to help you. Memory charms aren’t as difficult as you may think and I—”

“Thank you, Alastor.” You cut him off. “… For your honesty.” 

Numbly, you turned your back on him and continued your journey out of the hotel. 

-*-

Tangled up in warm fur, face pressed into the white stripe of his chest. You breathed in the scent of vodka and faded cherrywood that had become such a staple in your afterlife. You couldn’t imagine going a day without it now. 

It was absurd to say in Hell, but you swore to yourself that you’d never felt safer than you did here. In Husk’s arms. 

You peered up at him, meeting his luminous yellow gaze before you pulled away briefly. 

“I love you.” 

-*-

     Angel took a deep drag of his cigarette, eyes scanning the room for the hundredth time. It was an exact copy of the room that he and Husk had used last time on the 3rd floor, and the time before that on the 10th floor. 

“Would it kill Charlie to use a different theme for these rooms once in a while?” Angel Dust thought aloud. “All that remodelin’ just to get Deja vú no mattah where ya go...” 

He inhaled another before glancing at Husk. The cat demon was facing away from Angel while he sat on the edge of the bed, a bottle of nondescript alcohol clutched like a lifeline at his side. His head was hung so low it nearly disappeared behind his slumped shoulders, ears peeled back in shame.

      “Aw, come on babe.” The spider quipped. “Ya bein’ too hard on ya’self again. I told ya, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt ‘er.” 

Not even a grunt to acknowledge what Angel said. Husk didn’t move, just sat with his wings tucked against his back tightly. 

The pornstar frowned, finally crushing the cig on the nightstand. “You ain’t the first guy that had somethin’ on the side while he was already spoken for, ya know. Lotta people don’t got it in ‘em to be faithful, dead or alive.” 

    Angel Dust sat up straight, knees pulled up from beneath the covers. The urge to stroke Husk’s feathers as his wings quivered just the slightest bit went untouched. 

“‘Specially in Hell. All the stuff that goes on down here; this is like nothin’. Bet even Y/N would agree wit’ me.”

Husk flinched at the mention of you, and internally Angel Dust swore. He was babbling and breaking the rules (Don’t talk about the Missus) like some kinda hourly amateur, but he couldn’t stop.

“You’re not a bad guy—”

“Yeah.” Husk replied brusquely. 

The mattress sprung back into place as Husk stood up and began to gather up his things from the floor.  

-*-

You were a shivering mess when you arrived at the Hazbin Hotel, but you still responded amiably as Charlie offered you an enthusiastic hand in greeting. 

The bar, and subsequently the bartender, was one of the highlights of the tour that new residents received. You had been perfectly polite — warm, even, when you greeted him. And if Husk had given a shit, he might’ve been suspicious of your sugary front. 

Instead he muttered a ‘hello’ and went to bed that night with the image of your eyes looking up at him through damp locks, and the curve of your lips when you gifted him with a small smile.

-*-

     He headed for the bar as soon as he was done showering, and settled in with an inaudible sigh. 

Niffty was pitter-pattering around with a dustpan, eye to the ground as she searched for insects to torture. A few newer residents milled around as well, putting the time at or around early noon. The bartender noticed that all of them were glued to the screens of their phones. 

Husker grabbed his own, stuffed in his pocket. He’d forgotten to turn it off Airplane mode (one of the weirder pointless things that Hell had to offer, since commercial air travel didn’t exist here). 

The mix of joy and dread that filled him at seeing a notification from you left him mildly nauseous. Previous messages from you lit up his screen: 

‘Sorry I forgot to say good morning!’

                                                             ‘You just did.’

‘I meant in person sourpuss.’

                                                        ‘😒 I resent that.’ 

‘Awww, poor baby you’re proving my point.’

‘Here i'll make it better’

‘❤️❤️❤️ Good Morning ❤️❤️❤️’

               The cat demon smiled as he reread them. 

‘Feel better now?’ 

                                         ‘Yeah, yeah, like a million bucks. Thanks kid.’

‘☺️ yay’ 

        Husk scrolled, smile waning at himself from just a few hours ago. 

                           ‘How long you gonna be gone for?’

‘Bleh, probably all morning. Charlie gave me a list. A LIST!’

                                                      ‘I’m sorry baby.’

‘No sorries. I volunteered. Just gotta get it over with. I’ll let you know when I’m almost home!’ 

‘Love you!’ 

                                                                           ‘❤️’

     His own cowardice staring back at him, Husk scrubbed a hand down his face. You hadn’t messaged him since that morning and the notification was merely you ‘heart-ing’ his reply. Like it was worth a damn. 

What he wouldn’t give to go back to bed and never wake up. 

-*- 

“You can do a lot better than me.” Husk told you one night, nonchalantly. 

You perked up from where you sat, blinking rapidly to dispel the sleep from your eyes. “Huh?”

The bartender’s maw quirked up into a smirk as he watched you from the corner of your eye. The ice in your drink had already melted, barely touched since you’d hopped up onto a stool and ordered it. 

The pretense was adorable. You were a sweet kid with a crush, thinking Husk didn’t notice how you stared and sighed in his direction everyday. 

“‘Said you can do better ‘an me. Unless you got a Daddy you’re lookin’ to piss off by bringin’ an older guy home with you.” 

Your eyes crinkled with your grin. “Noooo. No daddy.” 

“But if you’re offering, I might be in the market for one.” 

Husk turned to you fully, brows raised as you giggled. 

-*- 

         The afternoon passed slowly, ramping up only slightly as it got later. He’d made himself more than a few drinks, and it did nothing to dull the prickling at his spine. Residents trickled in and out, Charlie and Vaggie had returned from whatever outing they’d planned that morning, Angel Dust had just left for work (not a word, not even a shared look, like it never happened), and Alastor was — well who fucking cared where that asshole was. Husk sure didn’t. 

But you hadn’t texted or called. You were nowhere to be found. 

Husk had tried messaging you a couple times, holding off on a call because… because… 

Paranoia had its claws deep inside the old cat, eating him up to the point of hissing with his hackles raised as Charlie appeared on the other side of the bar. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry Husk!” The Princess exclaimed. “I didn’t mean to startle you!” 

Husk patted his fur back down, shaking his head. “‘S fine! It’s fine. What can I do for you Princess?” 

Charlie’s expression changed from remorseful back to peppy so fast it gave Husk whiplash. 

“Oh right! Yeah, I was gonna ask if you knew where Y/N was!” The blonde said, “She was helping me out big time this morning, but I haven’t heard from her so I was just coming by to check…” 

     Charlie paused, her words trailing away at the look on Husk’s face. His fur was raising again along his arms as he leaned heavily against the tabletop. 

“You haven’t heard from her?” He asked, a lump rising in his throat. 

“Um, no… not-not since this morning…” Charlie’s brow furrowed. “Uh… and I’m getting the feeling that you haven’t either…?”

Husk swallowed, staring at the polished wood beneath his claws. “No.”

Vaggie had appeared by Charlie’s side in time to listen to the tail-end of their exchange. She looked from her girlfriend to Husk with a frown. 

“We can call her again.” Vaggie stated. “If one of you wants to try that, I can round up our other patrons and ask if anybody’s seen her.” 

“Good idea!” Charlie said, plucking her phone from her coat pocket. “I’m sure everything is fine! Maybe the FMV requires people to turn off their phones!”

-*-

“I don’t think it’s possible to ‘lose the ability to love’.” You sighed with your head on his shoulders. 

      You could almost see the other side of the Pride Ring with this view. Husk hadn’t been lying when he carried you up to the very top of the hotel on sure wings. 

His arm had wrapped around your waist and pulled you in closer. You laid your head on his shoulder contentedly. 

“You’d be surprised how much you can lose when you live long enough, babydoll.” Husk said. 

There was something about the silence after that that made you hold your breath. The air between you two felt oddly electric, buzzing with something on the tip of the tongue. 

“I used to be an Overlord, ya know.” 

-*- 

Husk’s eyes bore into his phone. The flurry of activity around him had become a dull roar as he stayed frozen. 

     All the messages he’d sent you simply showed as ‘delivered’. You hadn’t read any of them. 

He’d called you. 

And called you.

And called you. 

     Adrenaline would coarse through him before each attempt, heart hammering at the chance to hear you finally pick up. Every single one had gone straight to voicemail. 

-*- 

“What’s‘a matter?” Husk’s smooth voice, and the way he lifted your face up to his own, soothed your soul. 

“It’s stupid.” You shook your head. “Angel Dust snapped at me today and I just… still feel bad about it. I wish I knew why he didn’t like me.” 

-*-

“Now what’s all the hullabaloo about?” Alastor manifested without warning, surveying the lobby as a small but determined search party began to file out of the hotel.

Night had fallen, and Husk was still trapped by his phone. The screen remained dark. 

-*-

      Your whimper was swallowed up by Husk as he darted forward to kiss you. He lifted your leg to hook it around his waist, feathers tickling your knee as they fluttered excitedly. The move allowed him to go deeper, to crush you against him until you moved in-sync as one being. 

Heat pulsed inside, prompting an involuntary squeeze from you that elicited cries and long, drawn-out moans. You were left spent, head lolling in bliss.

Husk refused to let you go, face buried in your neck as he shuddered. You didn’t question it. 

-*-

Husk made the drink for Alastor robotically. Half-formed thoughts of how he should be the one leading the search party for you, not Charlie, wouldn’t develop properly. 

      The cat demon’s hatred for the ghoul that owned his soul felt like a drop in a bucket compared to the fear that had been growing steadily throughout the day. 

Husk gripped the latticework at his knees, tips of his claws clinking against the good liquor bottles tucked inside.

“You seen Y/N today?” He asked hesitantly. 

“Ah,” Alastor chimed. “Yes, I did in fact. We crossed paths earlier today in the lobby.” 

“This morning?” Husk said.

Alastor tipped his glass back and let the drink spill over his tongue. He took his time appreciating the taste before setting it back down and returning Husk’s gaze, his hands folded beneath his chin. 

Ruby red eyes glittered. “Not quite. I’d say it was nearly noon when I found her coming down the elevator. She was a tad green around the gills, but I thought it impolite to mention.”

[necrotic-nephilim]

For the ask game, Jason/Tim where the Pit makes Jason possessive rather than mad and so he imprints on Tim as being his and needing to take him and make him fully his, turn Tim into Jason's own creature? I think that could be a cool idea, since the Pit has different effects on different people.

for the ask game!

oooh, i love explorations of what the Pit does to the psyche, especially if it falls outside of the typical Pit Madness schtick. here's how i would try and write that

so what i think is fun about Jason and the Pit is, he wasn't *dead* when he got dunked, he was just mentally catatonic. dunking him in the Pit was a gamble on Talia's part and Ra's even points out in Red Hood: Lost Days it may not work. so to have it work but just... wire Jason *differently* is a lot of fun to me. i like the idea of Jason being a bit aimless after the Pit. he's got his wits to him but it's still the "came back wrong" vibes. and when Talia shows him the pictures of Tim as Robin, trying to show him that Bruce replaced him, it has the opposite effect. Jason's wires are crossed in all sorts of directions and all he can think of is he won't let what happened to him happen to another kid. so he spirals, looking into Tim and getting more and more obsessed. what starts as a genuine concern for Tim's safety becomes a possessive imprinting. Tim becoming Jason's purpose.

one of the defining things about Jason's feelings on Tim, in canon, is feeling like Tim is being held back by his loyalty to Bruce. so, i don't know how literal you meant creature, but i'm taking it balls to the walls bc i like fucked up monster vibes. the *how* is the fun part of it. it's easy for Jason to corner Tim, kidnap him. but how does Jason decide to corrupt Tim? i know the Court of Owls is a New-52 thing and i'm going off of pre-Flashpointt, but, i think it'd be fun to steal it. just because well. i really fucking like Talons. and Jason making Tim a Talon would be a twofold thing- for one, it protects Tim. it's a lot harder to kill a Talon than a person. and for two, it makes Tim easier to control. i think Tim would fight it hard, but the Talon programming combined with Jason's fierce protectiveness would snap him pretty easily.

Jason would be smart about it. he'd keep Tim locked up for at least a few months. because if Robin goes missing, then the calvary is going to start looking for him. Batman, Nightwing, Batgirl, Oracle, Huntress, the Titans, everyone. and Jason knows even if he puts a mask on Tim, he needs to wait. needs to let the smoke blow over. so for months, it's just Jason and Tim somewhere underground where no one can find them. that's where the bulk of their bonding comes in. because i do think Jason would want Tim to *genuinely* like him outside of just monsterous programming. Jason would work to earn that trust, even if it's through manipulation. tbh i think he'd lie to Tim, either gaslighting Tim about his loved ones not looking for him, or straight up tell Tim he's imagining having been Robin. anything that deconstructs Tim's idea of a support system outside of Jason. Jason is Tim's savior, in his eyes, and he'd want Tim to believe that too. that Jason had to protect Tim, from the Bat. very fucked up vibes.

once Jason's sure it's safe, he'd slowly start making his presence known as Red Hood, with Tim by his side. Jason would still want to do the whole Red Hood thing, but now, he has the ability to taunt Bruce about Tim. it'd be a fun mind game for Jason, telling Bruce that he lost *another* Robin. (three, if you count Steph) meanwhile, Jason gets to go home to Tim the whole time. it's a fun game to him, while also making him preen that he's protecting what he believes belongs to him.

eventually, the truth would come out. but by then, Tim's too deep in Jason's pocket to listen to anyone, even Dick. he'd lash out at anyone claiming Jason is manipulating him, and he'd be Jason's perfect little partner. very fucked up ending where Jason and Tim are "happy" together, but in the most fucked up way. i'd give Tim a new codename, something like Shrike because that sounds fun and pointy. they'd almost be a Batman and Robin parallel/foil, in a way.

also, just as a bonus alternative: another route i think you could take this idea is playing with Joker Junior. like, Jason imprinting on Tim *just* as Joker kidnaps Tim. so that's what sets Jason's plans into action, he was going to wait for the perfect moment but now, Tim is missing and Jason will be *damned* if someone gets to Tim first. and since Jason has well. firsthand experience with the Joker, he's able to find Tim first and since Tim is so mentally shattered at this point, it makes him easy to manipulate. easy to get him to traumabond onto the person who saved him and even once he's mentally recovered, he's so attached to Jason he wouldn't want to leave Jason. and maybe Jason would use Lazarus Resin or something similar to make Tim more creature-like, and even get Tim to agree to it, under the guise of it helping protect Tim. this route could be fun bc it plays more with just how "consensual" it is for Tim and how much he really has his wits about him, choosing Jason after being brainwashed.

[googleitlol]

If Dove's store went into the Lmk universe/storyline, how whould dove react to Mk? And Wukong being put into another circlet??

I'm sorry for how off the rails this ask is going to get, I'm including a lot of other stuff besides your questions cuz I've already thought about this a lot.

@marcu-bug and I have brought it up to each other before, and in LMK… Dove is reincarnated. Will I explain why?

…Not yet :D

For this, Dove is sort of like a maternal figure to MK (He's got so many dads, why not add a mom friend?). I have a oneshot planned where I'll go more into her character, but I imagine in the lmk universe, she’d be a paramedic that usually stops by Pigsy’s for lunch. Dinner too if she’s had a long day. Which is most days.

She definitely gets a lot of those ‘worried-parent’ feelings around MK and Mei, with how often they go jumping at the chance to do dumb shit. She’s seen a lot of things, but dear lord do those to take the cake for number of calls she’s had to respond to. Actually, that’s probably how she first discovered the noodle shop, responding to a call Pigsy made when Mei took MK for a ride on her motorcycle and they crashed. I imagine like an old bartender, Pigsy would listen to her rants about her shift with Tang enjoying a bowl next to her. Being a paramedic is tough, having her gift is helpful but sometimes Dove is running into hostile situations on the job. Sometimes she sees something that shakes her, but Pigsy and Tang are there to listen at the end of the day. It also helped her to unwind by hearing Tang tell MK all about the Journey to the West and the Monkey King. It'd be a lie to say she wasn't a little intrigued by his stories, just a bit.

She joins the monkie gang when the pilot begins and helps out when she can, and funnily enough, Red Son gets pretty uncomfortable around her. Not that she gets to join her friends too often, and for a very specific reason. Sun Wukong. At first, Dove thinks he's a generally cold guy, he's always on his mountain, doesn't socialize much, and he's pretty standoff-ish around her. But after seeing how he is with MK, she quickly realizes that isn't the case.

Okay, he's just an ass, then. A confusing one, at that.

It seems like Monkey King will do whatever it takes to avoid her, but at the same time, he pushes himself into her life in the most frustrating ways imaginable. Nearly anytime she's invited to do anything fun with her friends or go on any sort of adventure, she gets a call from her building manager that something is leaking in her apartment, or a strange call from her boss asking if she can do another shift last-minute, only for them to be none the wiser about ever asking her to do that. Dove didn't realize who was behind these strange happenings, but when she figured it out, boy was she pissed.

It's not uncommon to see Dove and Wukong arguing, much to MK's dismay. She just doesn't get why he's decided to hate her, he doesn't even know her! One time, he asked her to help a monkey of Flower Fruit Mountain that needed medical help, but when she got there, he left her stranded on the mountain while he went on vacation! Dove couldn't see the mainland for days until MK and Tang visited the mountain for a separate reason about some giant dumpling. It doesn't get much better when the team has to go looking for the Samadhi rings. If anything, it gets worse. Monkey King is so aggravated to even have Dove with them, she'd half-expect that he wanted her left to be frozen in the city with Lady Bone Demon! He doesn't want her anywhere near the ritual where they form the fire. The unfriendly behaviour doesn't stop until, well, Amnesia Rules…

When Monkey King loses his memory and gives her this look of shock, the last thing she expects is for him to scoop her into his arms with the tightest hug she's ever experienced. A flip switched in his attitude towards her, and it's made all the more confusing after he explains that Pigsy is Zhu Bajie and Tang is Tang Sanzang

"Who do you think I am, then?"

"You're my one and only, Love-Dove!"

She's not sure what's worse, that god-awful nickname or the fact that he thinks he's in love with her! Although, as the day goes by… she can't say she's unopposed to seeing this much friendlier side of him. Even if she only got to see it for a little while.

It likely wouldn't be until Wukong is about to face LBD that he finally admits to her why he was so upset about her being there, how she was the reincarnation of his one and only love. A love he lost, in a way that he could only blame himself. He couldn't bear the thought of putting her near harm's way again, not when their mission revolved around a power that was responsible for her past life's death (I might go into it in another ask/post, this is getting long)

After learning all of what they'd gone through in her past life, Dove is… apprehensive, to say the least. Some of his actions from the past, they make sense to her now, but it doesn't make her forgive him completely. Still, she remembers how Sun Wukong was when he had lost his memory… she would like to see that side of him more.

It takes them time to get past their rocky start (these two can never just start off liking each other smh), but in time, Dove starts to see more of that side she'd seen during Amnesia Rules. And she starts to fall for him all over again. He tells her about her past life, their time together on the journey, all of it. He admits how he robbed her of immortality… and how she tricked him into wearing the circlet. Their ups and their downs, he tells her everything. By the time season 5 rolls around, they're happy together. He's even offered her an immortal peach from the tree he's grown on FFM, so that he can finally make up for the mistake he made all those years ago.

Then… Li Jing puts the circlet on Wukong, again.

The moment Dove finds out, she's furious. How could they hurt him like that again?! Wukong tries to put her mind at ease, but it takes a lot to calm her down. "It's fine, Dove… I was honestly pretty disappointed. He put it on and just left, at least you were creative about it back in the day." That night, in the back of Sandy's van, Dove is littering his head in kisses, she can hardly imagine how painful it must feel. You best believe the moment they see Li Jing chasing them, she's aiming whatever she can find straight for his head. If he thinks he can induce some magic migraine on her man like that, she'll find a way to pay back the favour, tenfold. Nobody touches her Sun Wukong but her.

[flowertab]

Can you draw one of the moments from Unwound/Lost Future that had Luke and Clive together? Any moment that involved them would do as there's a good amount to choose from. My favorite moments are with them and it would be awesome to see one of them drawn.

“The Third Youngest”

I liked this request and I decided to redraw the art from this puzzle, as it’s one of my favorites!

[wandasaura]

Dove has her girls wrapped around her finger, so what would an ideal Dove day look like?

— DOVE DAY

warning(s) — pure fluff, headcannon format

ꕤ an ideal dove day consists of cuddles, cuddles, and more cuddles. she’s entirely clear about what she expects from her lovers when they finally have a minute to breathe without mission report deadlines or alien invasions. wanda and natasha don’t have any arguments, content to give love however it wants to be received.

ꕤ they wake dove up with kisses all over her face, lounge in bed until they can’t ignore their grumbling bellies any longer, and even then they stay cuddled up close until wanda chooses to be the responsible one and drags them downstairs and into the kitchen for a homemade breakfast of belgian waffles and eggs. dove sits on the counter dipping her finger into the powdered sugar when she thinks wanda won’t notice, and natasha sneaks her mouthfuls of whipped cream when she’s sure that wanda is looking right at them, smirking teasingly at her younger girlfriend who just rolls her eyes affectionately and holds back her scolding because she can’t deny how cute it is to watch her little dove wriggle around in excitement thinking she’s pulled something over on the all-knowing witch.

ꕤ they eat in the living room, which is a treat in and of itself because wanda is strict about keeping mealtime confined to the kitchen, but today is all about doing what dove wants, so they cuddle up under fluffy blankets and watch whatever movie seems most interesting. dove falls asleep everytime without fail, but she is adamant that it isn’t her fault, how is she means to stay away when her head is in natasha’s lap, her hair being twirled and braided, and her legs are thrown across wanda being tickled and rubbed and massaged. it’s clearly not her fault at all, and wanda and natasha are happy to take the blame, because that was their plan all along, not that their innocent little dove was aware.

ꕤ dove wakes up in the same position she fell asleep in, content to know that she hadn’t been left at any point during her nap, and depending on who’s closer, she sinks into their lap, chest to chest and face to face, smiling with a sleepy daze in her eyes.

ꕤ they stay like that for hours, making light conversation, cracking jokes, fighting off tickles when she’s particularly cheeky, until they get up to make lunch, which is always grilled cheese.

ꕤ natasha cuts dove’s sandwich diagonally, much to wanda’s displeasure because she believes in cutting it straight down the middle, and every time she makes a comment about it, it results in dove and nat rolling their beautiful eyes and calling her weird with teasing smiles. they eat in the kitchen, talking about life and upcoming events, throwing out ideas about how they’re going to spend the rest of the day, just reconnecting and making sure they’re all on the same page.

ꕤ after lunch one particular day, dove decided she wanted to go on a walk. the neighborhood they lived in was relatively quiet, and their neighbors were respectful enough to turn a blind eye when all three of them decided to venture out. they were just normal people doing normal things when they had the chance to be out together, so wanda and natasha agreed, although wanda was adamant that even if it was a dove day, she needed to wear some kind of jacket. dove huffed and stomped toward the closet, mumbling about stupid wind and jackets, much to the amusement of her girlfriends. they knew that she would freeze before she willingly wore a coat, but a sick dove wasn’t something they wanted to see, so wanda didn’t pay much attention to the mini tantrum that was more amusing than anything else.

ꕤ they wonder around for hours, getting lost down deadend streets, stopping at a local florist and picking up a bouquet of daffodils and daisies, taking advantage of every hour of sunlight they had left of the day, not knowing when they’d have this extent freedom again. when the cold became unbearable, and lips were becoming blue, they decided to go back home.

ꕤ wanda put the flowers in a vase while natasha made hot chocolate to warm them up. dove watched them fondly, content with their adventure and just having them both home for the entire day. it didn’t happen as often as she would’ve liked, but she would never blame them for that. she understood their commitments, but that didn’t stop her from wanting more of this.

ꕤ after hot chocolate was made, dinner was eaten, and pajamas were thrown onto warm bodies, they carried out the same routine as they did that morning, watching movies, cuddling on the couch, laughing and joking and just enjoying each others company until eyes were dry and limbs were heavy. so, they climbed the stairs toward their shared bedroom, they went through night routines, and then fell into bed in the same order they’d always kept. dove fell asleep first, then wanda, and natasha watches them both breathe until eventually she lets herself drive off too, already anticipating the next chance they’d have to do this.

[alittleloveddove]

Repeat "I'm deeply hypnotized" and with each repetition, you feel yourself slipping more and more until you just drop.

That made me feel all warm and melty…💕

Thank you, anon.

[beyondthetemples]

💭 places that attempt to reform hardened villains

Send 💭 + a topic and my muse will tell you what they think about it.

"Somebody has to do something about them... and, I guess, it's worth letting them try to reform... Isn't it?"

[thegreathuxton]

Pillow talk, please.

Anything for you, nonny. 🥰

(18+ AGED UP CHARACTERS)

DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. (You have been warned)

Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader

The talking always starts before you even reach the bed.

Lockwood is a gentleman, so he'll keep it discreet and won't do anything too risky.

But, man, your face will be all red by the time he gets his hands on you.

Once you're alone, he is absolutely filthy.

He really does keep it quiet. He doesn't want anyone but you to hear him, and he wants no one but him to hear you.

Super big on praise. If you don't like being called a good girl, get out.

He's always up against your ear or has his forehead pressed to yours, staring into your eyes and watching your expressions as he moves.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey," he says in rapid repetition. "Don't hide. Let me look at you..."

He grabs your wrists and slowly brings them away from your chest and places them above your head. He keeps them there with one large hand. "That's it, sweetness. Good girl..."

He presses a soft kiss to your lips and then lets his hand trail down to your chest. He takes one mound and palms it almost greedily.

"Prettiest tits I've ever fucking seen," he mutters against the skin of your neck. "Can't understand why you'd want to hide 'em from me." His hand keeps moving, trailing down to your warm cunt and sliding two fingers between the lips. Your back arches. He grins. He lets one of your hands go free but keeps the other right where it is, above your head. "Put your fingers down there for me," he whispers in your ear, teeth grazing your lobe. "Spread those lips nice and wide. Lemme see your pretty pussy... That's it... nice and easy, hm? Fuck, we'll have to wash these sheets tomorrow. You're dripping like a faucet."

Your fingers have replaced his, and you've spread the lips wide open. He leans back and gazes down at it, smirking.

"This beautiful body," he murmurs, "it's all mine, isn't it? Say it for me..."

You repeat what he wants. He's pleased enough. He slides his middle and ring finger into your entrance, all the way to the knuckle. You moan, and he places his hand over your mouth gently, of course.

"I'm gonna make you come on my fingers, alright?" He says and places a kiss on your forehead. "Just lay back and relax for me, love. This will only take a few moments..."

[cookie-crumblr]

(Don’t care that I’m not on anon gonna be shameless rn) how would Ezra, and Dev.In & ofc Issac react if the reader (female) said she wanted to their (his) little pet? Also for Ezra it’d also only be said it’ll be done if he doesn’t fucking kill her, or damage her too much to put her in the hospital AGAIN (I’ll finish Jasper’s in a min)

MINORS DNI

CW: F!reader, reader referred to as she/her, reader has a vagina, pet play, reader has hair (not described), names for reader (slut, bitch, little bitch, good girl, my bitch,kitty, good kitty, kitten, bad girl) size difference/n kink, nipple play, p in v, inhuman anatomy, fingering, reader has breast(not described)

OOOooooOOoOo!!! yessssss! (also this got way longer than what i intended XD SORRY)

So i feel like with Ezra this might be his ideal partner.

Like sure he loves a partner that he can reshape, but a partner that just chooses to fully rely on him? oh boy.

Ezra X F!Pet Reader!

“You really are a slut, you know that?” He pokes your forehead, “But you’re my little slut, huh?”

You nod eagerly, your collar in your mouth, and hands up as if they’re paws.

He takes the leather from your maw and buckles it around your throat snug enough that you feel it on you.

“What does the little bitch want, ay? You wannnaaaaa, treat? Little bitch wants a treat??” He coos and raises the pitch of his voice.

You nod again excitedly.

He backs you up against the wall, his arm over your head, and he leans down to you. Knee in your crotch, and his fingers run loosely through your hair. “Such a good girl,” his words send shivers through you.

“Plea-” He slams your head back against the wall when he slaps his hand over your mouth.

“Pets don’t talk,” His sinister grin grows, “they bark.”

“Woof” You’re muffled by his hand and the air puffs up into your eyes, but your own smile widens when his eyes admire you. A fire burns in your core.

“Fuck,” His voice is soft, the softest you’ve ever heard it.

“woof…” you let out a more quiet one hoping he’ll have mercy, your eyes seriously pleading.

His giant body surrounds you, as a hand wraps around your throat and his other one takes to between your legs replacing his knee. He removes whatever was blocking his way and stuffs his fingers deep into you with some resistance. “Good girl,”

“mmmhh!”

“Mm, you’re so tight,” your ear vibrates as he growls into it.

“Ow!” you squeak as he nips your ear, but it sends an electric shock through you.

“You tightened up, you love it when i hurt you” He clenches around your neck harder. You nod vigorously, you love it! you really do!

He rips through the rest of your clothes, leaving thick shreds around your body.

Lifting your leg along with him, you feel his massive member rub against your lower lips and shudder in his grasp. “Oh fffuck” falls from your lips.

He shoves himself into you, this time there’s a lot more resistance and it burns briefly, until you feel him hit your cervix, and practically gush around him.

He moans into your ear, “That’s my bitch, loves the pain i give.”

His body keeps you up, he’s huge and you feel so tiny, you both moan, as he bounces you against the wall. Your back burns against the painted wall, but somehow even it’s adding to the weight of that pleasure in your guts.

“Bark, bitch.” His voice reverberates inside you.

“Wo-woof!” He squeezes your neck harder and smacks your thigh. A coil snaps inside you, and he fucks harder through your rippling waves of pleasure. The spots in your eyes grow an wobble around, you can’t catch what little breath your able to get.

He pulls out and cums onto your stomach, some hits himself, there’s so much of it.

Dev.in and Issac is a fun one, probably my fave.🙈✨

Dev.In and Issac X F!Pet Reader!

“Well I can’t say I’m surprised. Issac will certainly be-”

“What will I be!?” Issac bounds in and trips over his own feet as he does, you catch him and he looks up thankfully.

“Happy. She wants to be my pet.” they say plainly.

“Oooo! Can I also be your pet, Devvy~!?!?”

“You already were,” Their growing smirk tugs at his snake bites.

“Yay!!!! Oh! Y/N this is gonna be so much fun~!!!”

~

Later, you’re both naked on all fours, kitty ear headbands, collars with leashes, and long sleek tail buttplugs in… You look expectantly at your master.

They’re sat legs spread and leaning back just enough to set a very commanding aura around him. His icy blue eyes glow in the dim light.

“Here kitties,” His voice is low and slow, as he curls a finger languidly. You imagine for a brief second that it’s inside you curling like that.

The crawl is uncomfortable, as you and Issac happily approach them and each climb a leg. You both admire the icy blue, inhumanly shaped, jagged, and thick, twin cocks, with drool in your mouths.

“You want these inside you?” they say cockily, while roughly grabbing both of your chins.

You nod. Oh gods yess! of course you want that beautiful beast of a thing inside of you!

“Such good kitties I have, it’s just too bad…”

You both cock your heads in question.

“I don’t feel like giving you what you want” Their grin drips of malice. “Make out with each other instead”

You do, you put your hands on Issac’s chest while sat on one of Dev.In’s thighs, and he sits on the other. Your legs are tangled together and he presses his knee between your legs.

“I didn’t say you could pleasure her yet.” they bounce their knee and slap Issac’s ass.

“Oh~! I’m soo sorry Master~~” He responds in a sing songy voice and winks at them, they return the smile and wink.

[thekrows-nest]

‘He's always wanted to try macarons though, but they're so ungodly expensive’

Baker dove who sees him looking at the macarons they’ve made , but he never buys any, so they wordlessly just start to include a free one with his orders in different flavours so he can try them all and see what he likes. 😭😭 (They don’t know the reason why he’s not buying them, but they just do it anyways)

That's so cuuuuute aaaaaa.

He would love Dove even more for that.

Most likely, he would eventually speak up about it, just a "W-when you have a m-moment, could I talk to you?" and should Dove go over to speak with him, he would say "Y-your sneaking in macarons hasn't g-gone unnoticed. I... r-really appreciate it. I wanted t-to thank you for it. W-would it be possible for me t-to take you out sometime?"

[redrawthecolorlessworld]

Momento and Trap Crow talking about the crow's experience with a certain dove :)

(ooc?)

not ooc, dw abt it anon~