no exactly sure how to count this one exactly but i think 1/2 an ice pop/bar is the best. nothing crazy this episode.
Star Detective Precure (ep 7) Luluka Moria/Cure Arcana Shadow Ice cream count: Total count: 8 cones; 29 scoops; 1 & 1/2 ice pops/bars
Sorry for not making any posts here, but I know you all missed me having posts here. But after all, a new year is coming soon. So expect me making more posts here and on teapotofmadness too.
Ace and Deuce—being as chaotic as usual—manage to accidently release several fictional monsters from the binding of their books. As you search for each of them, intending to put them back into their respective pages, one monster in particular finds itself enraged by your audacity, unable let you slip by as he's consumed with scrutiny—a ruler, synonymous with red and punishment, Riddle Rosehearts.
WARNINGS. Overblot!Riddle. Female Reader. Dubious Consent. Public Blow Job. Hair Pulling. Coming Untouched - Only kinda cause Reader uses her heel to get off. & Not Proofread. AO3 Version.
wordcount — 4.3k+
NOTES. Riddle GIF because Tumblr is tweaking right now, and I can't afford to get my whole blog taken down because I used a manga panel of a thigh. Anyway, here's the start of the Goosebumps series following my Kinktober '25 entry. We're going on order so Leona's next.
You, Ace, and Deuce had the capacity to be extremely stupid—your test scores could affirm. Though, in the back of your mind, you knew this moment would be the worst of them all. The three of you—Grim left at Ramshackle because of his 'Tuna Coma'—tip-toeing through the halls of the school building, intending to sneak into the library.
Like some heist mission, the three of you slipped past the snoring ghosts and snaff who stayed behind late, before coming face to face with the doors of the restricted section of the library. According to Headmaster Crowley, this section of the library holds books with magical properties that could be considered dangerous—for example, after a couple students were transported to an island once the pages were open, Crowley locked the book here—hence it was forbidden from students unless escorted with a staff member. Since a teacher would be a buzzkill, Ace decided he would convince the two of you to sneak inside, wishing to confirm a myth that had been floating around the school since your first year.
Apparently, deep inside of the restricted section of the library, lies monsters of many kinds trapped within the confines of a magical book.
Ace, being the person he is, wanted to confirm or refute the myth and dragged you two along with it. Hence, you wound up surveying the bookshelves of the restricted area (that Deuce broke into with a suspiciously obtained spell), glancing at the manuscripts holed up in a specific area of the section. The black covers with white strips of tape down the spine seemed to be the most important and well guarded area in the section, and based on the titles written along the write stripes of tape, you could assume why. Deuce, once again, casts something to dispell the magic around the manuscripts, allowing Ace to grab a book.
The red-head hums, turning the book in his hand. "Huh, why is there a lock on it?"Ace frowns, prompting Deuce to cast his spell once again, only for the spell to fail.
"Okay, strange," Ace mutters when Deuce's spell fails.
Deuce looks around the room, looking for something to unlock the book. "Here," Deuce mutters and walks over to a cubby that holds some keys. After a moment of glancing at them, he picks the key with an intricate design on the handle that reminds you of the headmaster. He dangles the key in Ace's palms. The boy in question gives Deuce an incredulous look. "You wanna open the book, you turn the key," Deuce says firmly with his arms crossed, stepping backwards and in front of you in case anything happens.
"He's not wrong," you back up Deuce and step backwards with him.
Ace rolls his eyes, sighing before putting the key in the lock and turning it. Suddenly, the book flies out of Ace's hands and lands on the ground open. It's pages rapidly flip, wind picking up around the book with the black ink printed on the pages pulling from their placements and swirling together to form a mysterious silhouette.
A direbeast.
The monster growls, huffing with annoyance as each droplet of ink increases its massive size, the thing no longer able to fit beneath these ceilings. The material above them cracks and falls apart, chunks clacking to the floor.
You, Deuce, and Ace attempt to remain as quiet as possible, not wanting to incur the abominable monster's wrath. However, none of you have that luck. You are unsure who or what it was, but suddenly there was a loud crash onto the tile flooring, following by a fear-inducing huff—an indicator that it had snapped to attention and focused on something. Only moments later is Deuce hoisting you up on his back, knowing you wouldn't be able to run as fast as him, as he dashes away from the giant beast clambering towards you two.
He runs into the cafeteria, ducking beneath the tables and pitching small items in your opposite direction to keep the beast distracted enough to warrant your escape.
Once again, your luck was never promising, as even with Ace's eventual addition to the plan, the three of you manage to be holed up in the employee area of the lunchroom as the direbeast narrowly misses you three with its claws. However, with luck running in your favor this time. your headmaster is to the rescue and traps the monster in its book. For once, he is useful and strangely much angrier than he usually is. Normally, his anger is comical, like a bird angrily squaking. But now, as he marches back down to the library with you three in tow, he had never seemed more angry. Not to mention, he keeps going on about you, Ace, and Deuce getting a severe punishment as a result. "The restricted section is restricted for a reason," he spits, walking through the library's (broken) doors. He quickly walks to the back, stopping dead in his tracks when he spots something sitting on a pile of books—a child, who looks both human and in likeness with a monstrous porclean doll (you always hated those things).
The thing is riddled with supernatural, pitch black features that are far from that of a humans. The three of you stop behind Crowley. "What have you released me for this time papa?" The child smiles, its fangs poking from behind it's lips. "Who are we terrorizing this time? Them?" It glances at the two of you.
Crowley looks down, spotting a book he needs to grab. His yellow eyes are flick between the child, "No one. I can't ask for company once and while? That's what you were written for, right?"
Crowley glances down and attempts to hurry and grab the book from the floor before the lights turn off, then back on.
"Company? You wouldn't try and put me away if you wanted company," it growls, showing its sharp teeth. In its hand is both the manuscript that Crowley was about to grab and the manuscript of the direbeast. Crowley curses quietly, holding his hands up in an attempt to negotiate with the thing. "Oh well," it mumbles, "I thought so. Hence, I woke up the prince. He won't be happy, y'know. And neither will the rest of them."
The headmaster grits his teeth, "Come on. Marin, let's not joke. Nows not the time."
"Nope! I think it is. You've kept us on this bookshelf long enough, I think, we should give the school's students a proper welcome? Right?" The child smiles and the lights go dark once more. When they return, the pile of manuscripts is gone, along with the key and the doll child. Crowley sighs in exasperation, slowly turning to the three of you with irritation written all over his masked face. 'It's always you three, I'm surprised that direbeast isn't with you,' Crowley mumbles. He brushes past the three of you with a huff, though, he stops in the door frame.
"You know what, this is part of your punishment. Help me find the books and put the monsters back in their respective places," the headmaster orders before he continues walking.
You, Deuce, and Ace all glance at each other, sharing a similar thought. A sigh leaves your lips, "Alright, Ace. You go get Grim and either follow the headmaster, or head to Scarabia. Me and Deuce will head to Heartsabyul and see if anything is there. We good? Yeah! We got our game plan, let's go!" You speak and act before either have a chance to give any semblance of input. Grabbing Deuce's wrist, you jog towards the mirror hall and enter the Heartsabyul mirror.
When the two of you arrive, the dorm is silent. Granted, it is the middle of the night. Though, you wonder why Crowley hasn't activated some sort of evacuation yet. Surely the school, and all of Sage Island, should know that there are magical monsters running rampant around campus (and possibly town)? You recall the headmaster mentioning that the dorms do have protective barriers around them while he was frantically yelling at the three of you, though, you still hope he would give an announcement at some point. After a moment of thinking, you shake your head and walk forward with Deuce. He's looking around, watching and listening for any abnormalities. "Hm, nothing here right now. I'll go check on the animals and make sure they're safe real quick. If anything was in the building, there'd be chaos already so…check the rose garden! Make sure there's nothing going on there, and then we can head to Savannaclaw?" Deuce proposes, and you agree, giving him a nod and heading over to where the famous garden of Heartsabyul.
The two of you split off, and immediately, you begin to regret letting Deuce leave you.
All of a sudden, in this silent, dark place—you're alone.
Normally, Grim is glued to your shoulder and yapping up a storm, or maybe Ace is to your side, pestering you about homework. But no, you're alone, in this strangely foggy rose garden. While it is night, you haven't a clue where the fog would be coming from until you find yourself narrowly avoiding being seen by some monster. Leisurely, you stepped out from behind a rose bush until you heard the sound of a disorted groan and saw a glimpse of a red dress, to which you quickly ducked back behind the bushes before the thing saw you.
Peeking your head out, you take in the sight of a humanoid figure. A man, with a softer face and slightly rounded cheeks, red eyes and red hair. A crown of black sits atop his head, along with dripping on his right eye to form a lace mask. He wore a tattered black and red corset top and skirt, decorated in heart and rose motifs, as evidenced by the black and white roses that frame his waist, and the deck of cards that seem to fall from his distressed skirt. Underneath were pitch black pants and heeled, knee high boots that had spiked hearts for the knee pads. He was cute, you had to admit—his appearance appealing despite the horrific aspects about him. For a moment, you simply stared, taking in the sight of him. At the current moment, the monster was neutral, indifferent to the space, but something tells you that he's someone you could quickly set off. His appearance feels familiar to you, his suffocating presence encourages you to quickly sift through your memories for the information you need. Your mind recalls scanning over the manuscripts, the names fading into obscurity until you recall Deuce picking up a book and muttering the summary on the back.
The Rose-Red Tyrant, he muttered, the hysterical housewarden of Heartsabyul whose authoritarianism let to his dangerous magical overload—Riddle Rosehearts.
You swallow as you recall the details of his story, you remember Ace briefly mentioning him during a study session where you weren't listening to him in the slightest. Apparently, Riddle was a stickler for the rules set by a former queen, so much so that he harmed his fellow classmates when they would mistakenly violate one of the 810 rules. Thinking about his famous "Off With Your Head" catchphrase that Ace mentioned, you were extremely hesitant to engage with this particular character.
Perhaps you could wait until Deuce came back around to help? You swallow, crouch and take a small, cautious step backwards. You were sure that you hadn't made a single noise, yet the thing managed to notice and directly acknowledges you.
"You," he says coldly, "Aren't you aware that the curfew has long passed?"
You swallow, halting in your step with a shiver down your spine. You can feel the heat of his red eyes glaring at your back. Knowing he would only be angrier should you avoid him, you slowly step forward and out of the foliage, accidentally bumping against the bush in your anxious movements. Your head is angled down, shoulders hunched as you shrink in on yourself. His glare is strong, punishment on the tip of his tongue.
Deuce would be back here in a minute, so maybe you just had to stall. A task you do, true to your nature, with the intent to aggravate. Perhaps you'd picked something up from Ace, but a sassy remark flies from your lips without hesitation. "Well, you're past curfew too."
Riddle's face twitches, "I have to watch for troublemakers like yourself." His words have bite, his hangs covered in black are closed into fists. With a matter-of-fact tone, he presses a hand to his chest and declares, "Rule 802, no student is allowed in the rose gardens past the designated 9:30 curfew. Not to mention, your violation of messing up the rose arrangement." You look behind you, wincing at how one of the flowers is jutting out of the greenery, looking moments from crumpling onto the prickly grass.
Your eyes dart around the garden, searching for any way to get out of this predicament—preferably Deuce. You swallow, taking a small step forward, "You're breaking your own rules aren't you?"
"I'm the rule enforcer, how can I ensure that there aren't any rule breakers if I do not stay behind?" he steps forward, red rising from his neck to paint his face. Quite frankly, he looked like a tomato, which didn't encourage a change in attitude, nor a more respectful tone towards the housewarden. Swallowing, knowing you've been acting bold, you answer, "I'm sure the student enforcer isn't exempt from the rules. Besides, its the middle of the night, even Heartsabyul's real housewarden is asleep by this time."
A growl emanates from Riddle's throat, "I'm getting tired of this back and forth."
"Leaders should know how to take criticism, I'm simply voicing my opinion on your hypocrisy. Don't tell me you're—"
"Perhaps you need some sort of punishment for your impudence," Riddle glares, seemingly doing nothing but that—glaring—until you feel something grow in your throat. A cluster of lumps grows within your throat, rising up and pouring out like bile, in the form of blood red rose petals. You cough, gasping and choking on the petals falling from your lips, clutching your throat. Hoarse and gravelly, you chuckle and look up at him. "I didn't think that would…set you off so easi—" In the blink of an eye, the two of you are suddenly in close proximity, his hand buried in your hair. A yelp of pain leaves your lips as he yanks your head back, hovering above you with magic. The hand buried in your hair lifts you slightly, the tips of your toes touching the ground.
"I tire of the disrespect leaving that insolent mouth of yours! Perhaps a student like you requires a different form of punishment?" He yanks your head back, forcing your neck to crane upwards to him. His face leans in close, his breath as wisps on your lips, "As I see it, I don't believe you are learning your lesson. Should I be more forceful then?"
A whimper, leaves your throat, heat travelling up your spine.
An embarrassing, humiliating, whimper.
You were a degenerate on some level for this, for enjoying the delicous tug on your scalp, or the yanks of your head. Your hands grasp at the one holding your head on instinct, swallowing at the strangely authentic heat of him. You knew he was ink on a page, yet felt nothing but. And perhaps it was voice, or the manhandling, or the angered speech that stirs the brat inside of you, encouraging arousal to pool in your tummy.
Riddle throws you down before him, taking a step back to admire your disheveled appearance. Whilst he dislikes unprofessionalism, which at its base level involves your appearance, there was a sense of gratification he felt seeing this heckler of sorts on her knees in front of him. Perhaps his "Queen" shtick had contributed to his pleased interal reaction.
His heels clack against the ground as he floats down and steps forward. Again, his grabs your locs, twisting them in his palm and yanking you backwards. "Do be prepared to take your punishment," he says coldly.
Silently, he reaches for the waistband of the pitck black pants he has on, and tugs. His thumb traces the inside of the rim before he pulls the fabric away and down. His tight, tiny little boxers are left. The corners of your lips twitch, threatening to curve in satisfication because you're sure that if you did, he wouldn't continue with this "punishment." What you wouldn't give to mouth at his deep red briefs. Technically, Riddle was among the larger in size crowd because of his monster status; however, he was painfully human and incredibly adorable with the visibly, leaky cock bulging inside of the confining fabric.
From the looks of his bulge, he wasn't impressive—average in size and length—however, that strangely didnt deter you. There was simply a desire to hold him in your mouth.
"Open," Riddle says, tugging down his briefs, letting out his red, leaky cock.
Deciding to be difficult, you turn your head away, grunting in disatisfaction. Riddle jn turn, clicks his teeth and tightens his hold. "Open," Riddle commands. Your lips wobble before you slowly spread them, widening your jaw and offering your tongue for a cock to take the place of.
He guides the tip of his cock to your tongue, his sharp nails digging painfully into your scalp. Though, your eyes only seem to flutter as a reaction to the pain. Riddle grunts as he pushes his hips forward, snapping them into your face. You whince at the impact, and at the several other dangling and noisy things that are apart of this monsterous form of his. Your jaw aches slightly, unamused by the pressure he puts on the back of your head. Audibly, you choke, no expectating the full length of him between your lips at once. Riddle chuckles, "Quiet now?"
Now, both hands move to your hair and positon themselves, your strands twisted around his fingers. Your eyes threaten to roll to the back of your head, lashes fluttering, eyes watering, and thighs clenching—you were humiliatingly aroused by the situation.
Riddle pulls his hips back, drawing his cock to the tip of your tongue. It feels heavy on your tongue, precum drooling into your mouth. You fight the urge to swallow, bracing for his next rough thrust. Riddle delivers shallow rolls of his hips, pushing his cock in your mouth just before you had the urge to gag. His eyes drift over your frame, feeling you tremble underneath him, and watching as your thighs twitch beneath you. He hums, the sound reverbating in his chest before he suddenly yanks your head forward, filling your mouth with his length.
You gag, frantically grasping at his clothed thighs in surprise. A groan leaves the man's lips, pleasure rolling through his body at the warmth of your mouth enveloping him. His hands push and yank your head, removing you from his cock, only to shove it back in. Like a fleshlight, he uses your mouth without a care in the world for your sore neck or aching jaw.
Muffled whimpers leave your plump, sore lips. Saliva drips from your chin, prominent sounds of gargling spit and choking fill the air between the two of you as he skull fucks you.
Everything is starting to hurt—his nails dig painfully into your scalp, your jaw and neck feeling as if they'll snap off, the pleasure pooling in your tummy that remains achingly untouched. Your thighs anxiously rub and twitch beneath you, hands frantically rubbing against them. Your hands grab and scratch at your clothed thighs, attempting to keep them busy from drifting to him, or your neglected, throbbing clit. His cock twitches in your mouth, fingers tightening in your hair, and you can't fucking breathe. Your nostrils feel as if they can't take in air, and your mouth is blocked by Riddle filling you. You're sure your frantic attempts at breathing have gotten snot on his cock and spit decorating your face, but you feel so incredibly lightheaded. Your mind feels as if its floating, your eyes becoming blurry as tears continuously fall— the suffocating feeling wracking frantically in your lungs deprived of air, down to your swaying tummy, and then to the drooling pussy in your pants.
A whine slips from you, your hand slowly drifting down to unbutton and slip beneath the band of your clothing. You feel the annoying, sensory nightmare of wet panties along with the torture of your throbbing clit rubbing along the fabric. Fuck—you're sick for enjoying this shit, but you can't help but search for release. That is, until the terrifying ruler before you yanks you off his cock, allowing you to gasp and gulp at the air. Your face is undoubtedly messy as you feel the mix of liquids spilling down your lips and chin.
His red eyes gleam as he glares down at you, "If you touch yourself, my roses shall be decorated in the blood of your detached head."
Dreamy eyes stare back up at him, a gleam of lust present in your pretty eyes. Riddle holds himself back from laughing at the widening of your eyes, and the sparkle of arousal that resonated in them. What an interesting human he's stumbled upon. He watches your thighs clench, pressing firmly together at his words, your thighs shifting beneath you. "Hah, you're a deranged little thing," he comments, before he yanks your mouth back to his awaiting cock.
Careful to notice any wandering hands, his eyes are trained below you, a smile growing on his face at the obedience you exhibit.
"Good," he coos, "Someone can learn a lesson then."
Riddle chuckles to himself, head craning backwards, a sigh if relief falling from his lips. If he could stay buried in your mouth for all of eternity, he would. He finds some embarrassment in the way you've managed to dishevel him—face red is arousal, pants messy and undone, sweat-slicked hair falling from their styled places, and his frantically thrusts into your mouth despite his desire to just use your pliant mouth.
You moan, shifting your hips so that your left foot is underneath you. You "subtly" position your heel beneath your throbbing clit, a sigh of pleasure, and fluttering eyes a sign of a newfound way of release.
In a moment of desperation, with his rapid and sloppy thrusts, you roll your hips against your heel. Riddle was likely getting close to his own release, and you refused to let him rob you of your own. Your clit rubs rough against your heel—it wasnt the best form of relief you could get, the bone being less than pleasent, but it was enough. You lean forward a bit, hands bracing on your thigh and the ground, moans spilling from your lips like water. Riddle blinks, looking down to figure out what was with the sudden change in attitude. The man could only laugh when he saw the desperate grind of your clit against your heel.
"Degenerate," he mumbles, his eyes rolling back and hips twitching as he burries his cock as deep in your throat as possible. His length throbs in the welcoming heat of your mouth, before he shoots ropes of cum down your throat.
His spend spills onto your tongue and down your throat, as you frantically attempt to swallow it all without accidentally biting down on him. Riddle groans as he cums into your mouth, clearly satisfied at the treatment he's recieved. At the same time, your hips twitch, walls fluttering around nothing as you find release. Riddle stills for a moment, slowly pulling out from your mouth. You swallow when he does, wincing at the soreness of your throat. His hands dont leave your hair, but they loosen, allowing you a little more wiggle room and a moment to relax. Though, when you look up at his eyes, you can tell that his "punishment" for you, isn't exactly finished.
Riddle smiles as he looks down at you, "Ah…I don't think you've understood. That look in your eye tells me enough."
You pant, licking your lips as you lock eyes with him. Not a word leaves your lips, causing him to narrow his eyes. "Well then, what else should I have you do?" You swallow, unable to anything to say. In your stead, Riddle opens his mouth to speak, but is interrupted. Riddle grunts, his hands flying to his chest as his body begins to turn black. Your eyes widen in surprise and you glance behind Riddle to see Deuce with his hands firmly around an open book. Riddle grounds, grabbing at the ground as he slowly turns back into ink. With the light, and the swirl of black, you quickly attempt to put yourself back together before you're face with Deuce.
You fix yourself up by the time Deuce closes and locks the book. "Holy shit," Deuce runs up to you as you stand on shaky legs that he assumes is because you're scared. "I found the book! Are you okay?! What did that thing do you."
Voice hoarse, you mumble, "I'm fine. Promise."
You clear your throat when Deuce's eyes widen in alarm, "I swear! You got here before anything happened." Deuce helps you stand, mumbling something like he thinks you're lying, but he lets your explanation fly. "Cmon, lets move on, maybe we can meet up with Ace."
Agreeing with Deuce, you nod and walk next to him, wishing to forget the damn book.
