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#the other end of the invisible line
babocka · 10 months
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... This is such a little detail that no one will go looney over like me, but she drags her scythe across the floor as she rushes in.
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faust1926 · 2 years
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ok but it’s like. my delusions feel good because they give me a greater sense of purpose in life beyond [insert everything about my real life that’s killing me here]. but they feel bad because they’re often about scary and awful things. they feel good because they give me something to believe in/look forward to. and they feel bad because the more real they seem to me the further away everything else feels. I want them gone cause they mess with my ability to function the way I strive to, but I want them to stay cause without them I’d be functioning even Worse.
#and then every therapist profile I look at is like ''is there something WRONG with you you want GONE so you can be normal again''#(<- and what if you've never been normal/happy/etc. lol?)#or it's like. ''I tailor my approach to EACH individual. that's why I offer talk therapy; art therapy; /and/ spiritual yoga ^_^''#but whatever.#breaking it into pieces like this ^ helps at least#it feels like one of those optical illusions where ur brain fills in the hole in the image#I'm missing out on many many emotional/mental needs. so my brain is filling in the blanks trying to make do#a la ''no stable support structure (from guardians/gov/professionals)? -> actually there's constant support from invisible spirits''#could literally draw these lines for Every detail I've got memorized in here. it's not hard it's not rocket science#literally don't see why I'd need some talk therapist to psychoanalyze me. you don't know me. it's my brain. I know me. and I'm simple#I just need help to fulfill my needs. so maybe the worse parts of this would feel less dire. and there's be less ''curing'' of -#- something that's important to me rn#so I just need to find someone who could actually help me do that. not just talk about how I feel or whatever.#it just makes me feel so awful/guilty that rn I feel my delusions are getting worse. and I feel like I ''should'' be doing something -#- to stop that. but I don't Know what else to do. I am literally too tired to function or think and I don't have any ideas other than -#- ''win the lottery'' or ''end capitalism'' <- the latter of which /is/ also a component of my delusions it really is so obvious.#so like. I just need to find a therapist who will have more ideas or something. I don't know. I have no clue.#I've already tried so many ''solutions''
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star-ocean-peahen · 7 months
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After watching Cinderella (the original animated movie, which was my favorite as a child), it strikes me how it solves many common problems people have with this fairy tale. Like:
Why did they try to identify the mystery girl using her shoe size? Because the bullheaded king's only clue to her identity was the shoe the Grand Duke picked up off the steps.
Why didn't the prince recognize her by her face? Because his father wouldn't involve him in the process at all, and wasn't the one going around trying to find her.
Why did the prince want to marry a lady he only met that night? Because his father was going to force him to marry someone, and he genuinely liked this woman.
Why did Cinderella want to marry a man she only met that night? Because marriage was her best and most secure way to freedom. Fucked up, but you can't say it's unrealistic for the setting of a fairy tale. She also genuinely liked him.
If they're using the slipper to find her, wouldn't it be more sensible to search for the person with the other slipper? Yes. The King is purposefully nonsensical and the Duke is purposefully terrified enough of him to carry out his orders to the letter. Furthermore, they end up doing that in the end anyway, because the Duke's glass slipper is shattered, and Cinderella brings out the one she has to prove her identity.
Why didn't the stepmother and stepsisters recognize Cinderella at the ball? Because they were dancing too far away, and then left the party to dance in private, which was possible because the King wanted very badly for his son to hit it off with someone and tried to arrange the best conditions for that to happen.
Why didn't Cinderella save herself? Because in real life, abuse victims should not have to shoulder that responsibility, and usually can't. In real life, you need and deserve an external support system. Asking for help, in this kind of situation, is very important. She is saved by others because she is loved. Because she is not alone. Because she has friends who love her, and want her to be happy and safe and free. Because in real life, people who want to help someone who is suffering are like the mice. We can't pull out miracle solutions, but we can provide companionship and if we're in the right place at the right time, we can help the person find a better life.
Why didn't the fairy godmother save Cinderella from her abusive household, or try to help her sooner? Because she's magic, and magic can't solve your problems. Quote: "Like all dreams, well, I'm afraid it can't last forever." This (and Cinderella's dream of going to the ball) is a metaphor for pleasurable things in bad circumstances. An ice cream won't get rid of your depression, but it will provide you with momentary happiness to bolster you, as well as the reminder that happiness in general is still possible for you. Cinderella doesn't want to go to the ball so she can get away from her stepmother and stepsisters, or so she can meet someone to marry and leave with. She wants to go to the ball to remind herself that she can still have things she wants. That her desires matter. This is important because the movie does a very good job of illustrating Lady Tremaine's subtle abuse tactics, all of which invisibly press the message that Cinderella doesn't matter. While going to the ball and fulfilling her dreams may not be a victory in the material sense, it is still a victory against Lady Tremaine's efforts.
Why is Cinderella's choice to be kind and obedient framed as a good thing, when you are not obligated to be kind to your abuser? This one walks a very fine line, but I think the movie still makes it make sense. Lady Tremaine never acknowledges her cruelty. She always frames her punishments of Cinderella as Cinderella's fault. Cinderella is interrupting, Cinderella is shirking her duties, Cinderella is playing vicious practical jokes. Cinderella is still a member of the family, of course she can go to the ball, provided she meet these impossible conditions. Lady Tremaine's tactics are designed to make Cinderella feel like she must always be in the wrong and her stepmother must always be in the right. If Cinderella calls her stepmother out on her cruelty, or attempts to fight back, Lady Tremaine can frame that as Cinderella being ungrateful, cruel, broken, evil, etc. If Cinderella responds to her stepmother's cruelty defiantly (in the way she's justified to), she's not taking control out of Lady Tremaine's hands. Disobedience can be spun back into her stepmother's control. She wants Cinderella to be angry and sad and show how much she's hurting. So since Cinderella is adapting to her situation, she chooses to be kind. Not only because she naturally wants to be and it's part of her personality, but because it is a form of defiance in its own way, and it allows her to keep a reminder of her agency and value. Her choice to be kind is her chance to keep her own narrative alive: she is not obeying because her stepmother wants her to and she has to do what her stepmother does, but because she wants to. It's a small distinction, but one that makes all the difference in terms of keeping her hope and identity. (Fuck, I wrote a whole paragraph about how this doesn't mean you can't be angry at people who hurt you or that you need to be kind to deserve help, and then deleted it by accident. Uh. Try again.) Expressing anger and pain is an important part of regaining autonomy and healing. Although it is commendable to be kind while you are suffering, it is NOT required for you to get help or be worthy of help. If Cinderella's recovery was explored beyond "happily ever after" she would need to let herself be angry and sad to heal. Cinderella is not only kind because it comes naturally to her, but because it's her defense against the abuse she's suffering. Everyone's story and experiences are different, and one does not invalidate the other.
Bonus round for answers that aren't part of the movie:
Why didn't Cinderella run away? Where would she go? Genuinely, in hundreds-of-years-ago France, where would she go if she snuck out of the window with a change of clothes? With her step-family, she's miserable and abused, but she's fed, clothed, and in no danger of dying or being taken advantage of by anyone other than her stepmother and stepsisters. Even if she escapes and manages to find financial security, her stepmother might be able to find her and get her back.
Why didn't Cinderella burn the house down with them inside it/slit their throats in the night/poison their food/etc.? Because that's a revenge fantasy, and this story is a fantasy about being saved. There's nothing wrong with making Cinderella into a revenge fantasy. That's perfectly fine, as long as you acknowledge that the other type of fantasy is also a valid interpretation. (I mean, the original fairy tale features the stepsisters getting their feet mutilated and all three of them getting their eyes pecked out, so go for it.)
Why isn't Cinderella more proactive in general? Because she's a child who has been abused for the back half of her life, who has had to be focused on survival because. you know. she's an abused kid.
How did she dance in glass slippers? Gotta agree with you there man, that's weird.
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radiance1 · 3 months
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Damian has beef with a homeless kid. Both as a Wayne, and as Robin.
As a Wayne, Damian being alone outside was a rare thing. Most of the time a sibling would be accompanying him or wouldn't be too far off, but he was well and truly alone for the first in a while.
Then he stepped into an alleyway and nearly got hit in the face. It wasn't unexpected, considering this is Gotham, but it's unusual for a thief to be bare-handed.
They then devolved into a fistfight and, while the other boy's form has at least some foundation it was pitiful in comparison to the Demon's Heir and the son of Batman. But the boy had quite a lot of power that he threw around with his punches and kicks, power that Damian used against him while simultaneously dodging his attacks.
There was an invisible line that the boy refused to let him cross that led deeper into the alleyway, and he somehow managed to do exactly that. Looping Damian right back to their starting positions at the start of this fight, Damian at the mouth and the unknown at the middle point.
Damian then caught sight of familiar green scales, a groan, and a very familiar voice calling out "Kid...?" The boy in front of him seemed, genuinely, panicked at the voice's interruption, but not with fear.
But with worry.
So then Damian left, pushing away each and every notion that he should detain Killer Croc right then and there with the logic that he didn't even have his uniform and the proper equipment to effectively deal with someone of Killer Croc's powerset.
Somehow, whenever he was alone from his siblings, he's always met the boy, whom he learned was called Danny via overhearing Killer Croc speaking to him. Their meetings always started in a fight, and ended with no victor as Damian sneaked away as soon as Killer Croc made his presence known.
No wonder he's been so quiet, it seemed he either had a child or found one.
===
As Robin, Damian would admit that he was caught off guard by the same boy who acted as Killer Crocs 'bodyguard' (either for the mutant himself, or everyone else. He doesn't care enough to find out) and would say it was a good move.
But that was as much praise as he was willing to give.
Robin recognized Danny at first glance, if not in looks than surely the fighting style he was familiarized with over the past few months. A mixture between refined and wild.
As always, he threw far more power than his body should allow for someone of his build and age, so perhaps he was a mutant as well. It didn't matter, what did, however, was how each of the punches thrown could punch straight through a wall.
Robin never let himself get hit fully to test if it could as easily pierce the human body as well.
As usual, Robin was either redirecting, outright dodging or blocking (when he wasn't able to dodge just right enough for the attack to not hit him) the attacks that came his way. And, as always, wherever it seemed Killer Croc went, Danny went as well.
Wherever Killer Croc found this boy, Robin would give him credit for being able to choose his protegees correctly.
Robin let no one else deal with Danny whenever he's on scene along with Killer Croc. His father wouldn't even fight him unless it was necessary, most of the time busy with Killer Croc himself, Nightwing was occupied in his own territory, as well as Red Hood.
Robin would not so humbly refuse to even entertain the idea of Red Robin as a candidate.
When Killer Croc escaped, Robin let his opponent chase after his guardian to nurse the wounds that came, more often than not, from counters to his own attacks.
He always had an excuse ready as for the why.
===
Damian Wayne saw something surprising, when he met Danny again.
Robin's own attack being thrown at him.
Of course, it was sloppy and almost painful to look at. But it still surprised Damian, nonetheless.
He spent some time effectively guiding Danny to perform the attack to an at least practical level. Not that Danny asked, or he offered, but it was easy to guide the flow of the fight to what he wanted.
===
Robin was surprised. Not to any great level, but it caught him off guard.
Danny had almost perfectly countered his attack.
It was still sloppy in some places, needed a bit more refining and a great less of the power that was unconsciously behind it. Other than that, it was performed that Damian could say he was almost impressed.
Danny landed a hit on him, and he was quite sure he may have broken a rib, bruised his chest, or both.
So of course, he ruthlessly beat the boy into the ground while pointing out each and every flaw in his technique. Then let him run off after his... master? Father?
He does not know the significance of the role Killer Croc plays to the boy, but he let him run away after him back to the sewer systems.
Of course, an excuse already on lips for his father to hear, and even better, physical evidence to back up his claim.
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smileysuh · 1 month
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devil's girl
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🌙 starring. Choi Seungcheol x afab!Reader I ft. Mingyu & Wonwoo
🔮 preview. “Three hundred years ago, one of your ancestors promised me a descendant as my prophesied betrothed. A girl of her bloodline who would bear my hybrid offspring, children with the power of demons and witches, bodies unrestricted by the laws of heaven or hell. A witch who would be identified by the mark of the Devil, drawn through with three lines.”
tw/cw. foreplay, fingering, oral (f receiving), Cheol is low-key pussy obsessed, overstimulation, 5-inch long demon tongue, invisible demon bondage magic, the demon magic can also vibrate her clit a little, bdsm themes, slight choking, squirting, wet kink, massive cock cheol, pussy stretching, impreg/breeding/cum kink, dirty talk, service dom Cheol, consent is a must, begging, multiple reader orgasms, unprotected sex, hand job, dream/incubi threesome with Mingyu & Wonwoo, double fingering, degradation, dacryphilia, etc… I pet names: (hers) little/my sweet, pretty girl, good girl, whore/slut (1), baby, little love, etc. (his) sir, daddy.
👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 7.2k
🍭 aus. king of hell!Cheol, witch descendant!y/n, prophesy, arranged marriage, yandere/possessive themes, slight kidnapping, etc…
☀️ mlist + an. I feel like I need the men I write about every time, but when I tell you I need this man biblically, when I tell you I need him to kidnap me and make me the Queen of Hell and knock me up with demon hybrid babies asap-
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Prologue:
It was not a fate that she would have ever wished upon any of her descendants, but there was a price to pay for power, a price to pay for life and a line continued. The old crone signed the contract, bound in blood, with the King of Hell, promising one of her own line as his future intended.
She could not foresee when the prophesied witch would be born, all she could promise The Dark King was that the descendant would bear the mark of the Devil. Somewhere in the world, there would be a girl born with a pentagram birthmark, run through with three lines, and that girl, would bear the task of giving children to the King of Hell himself.
The crone did this to solidify her line would survive the witch trials ravaging the country, the contract would ensure demonic protection from death- none of the King’s loyal followers would allow harm to fall upon any woman who could possibly birth the next Queen of Hell. 
As the trials continued, not one of the crone’s daughters were harmed. Years went by, with the crone checking every new grandaughter and great-granddaughter for marks. When it became clear that the prophesied girl would not be born in her time on Earth, she urged all her descendants to be fruitful and multiply, in the hopes that, with a large family line, the Demon King would have a harder time finding the contracted child.
Upon her death, the old crone’s family took her words to heart. Not only did the daughters multiply after the witch trials had ended, but they split. Some became nomadic, others found places to settle down and have whole swaths of children. Many of these descendants took upon new names, as women always took the last name of their husbands.
In this way, the old crone hoped to cheat the devil himself, and for a very long time, she was successful in her evasion of him.
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one
“This better be important,” Seungcheol groans, shifting on his throne to assess the two low level demons in front of him. 
The incubi exchange looks, and finally one steps forward. “Sir, we found her.”
“You found her?” the King repeats. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
“The witch,” the second demon says, fumbling as he also moves forward to address Seungcheol. “The one from the prophecy, with the mark.” 
The Demon King feels a twitch of something electric, it makes his finger tips jolt, and he begins to strum them along the dark marble arm of his throne. “What are your names?”
“I’m Wonwoo,” says the first incubi, “and this is Mingyu.”
“Well, Wonwoo, Mingyu, the two of you better not be wrong.” Seungcheol stands up. “Where is she?”
“We can give you the details, only…” Mingyu casts an anxious look toward Wonwoo, “we’re pretty sure she was wearing a high level demon ward.”
“What?” The word comes out as a growl, and in the lava fields of hell that stretch as far as the eye can see behind him, there’s a tremor that betrays the King’s rage.
“A demon ward,” Wonwoo repeats. “An heirloom. It’s a necklace. We tried to get her to take it off, but even while dreaming, she was pretty protective over it.”
Seungcheol can’t believe what he’s hearing. It’s been over three hundred years since he’d made a contract with the old crone. Three hundred years of waiting for the ability to sire a line with a witch who would be able to withstand the process. He’d almost given up the hope of ever finding his betrothed, only for two sinful incubi to find her in the dream state. The fact that she’s warded is the cherry on top of this whole fucking thing.
“That bitch,” Seungcheol groans. “The old crone has done everything in her power to make sure our contract would never be fulfilled, and she’s even left warding jewlery.” 
If the witch wasn’t in heaven, Seungcheol would pay a visit to her himself to enact his revenge for this final piece of treachery.
You do a service to save an entire line of witches, and this is how they intend to pay back your kindness. 
“It’s not the end though,” Wonwoo offers helpfully. “We just have to convince her to take the necklace off, that will break the ward, and you can summon yourself into her room as soon as it’s off.”
“If the two of you do this for me,” Seungcheol notes, “you will be rewarded.”
“We’re just happy we found her for you,” Mingyu says, voice shaky. “It’s been a very long time.”
Too long, in fact. 
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two
You’re lost in a dreamy haze. Two pairs of lips are on your throat, one man pressed to your front, the other at your back. Hands caress your form, and nothing has felt this real. You’re moaning, eager for the fiery touches.
“We need you to do something for us,” the man in front of you whispers, licking past the shell of your ear and making you shiver.
“Anything,” you blurt out, already reaching for his cock.
A hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. When you meet the stern man’s gaze, you note the darkness in his eyes. 
“This is a pretty necklace,” he muses, as the person at your back nips at the chain that encircles your throat.
“It’s a-” you swallow back your lust, trying to form words, “an heirloom.”
“How badly do you want to be fucked, naughty girl?” 
“So bad,” you whimper, pressing your thighs together in the hope that you can quench some of your sexual appetite. 
“Then you need to promise us that when you wake up, you’ll take this pretty necklace off, only for a while.”
“Huh?” You’re confused, and the man behind you immediately brings his hand to your core, stroking you through your nightie. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you feel like they’ve asked you to do this before- but your memory is as fuzzy as the vision in front of you, and the men are more than distracting.
“You can do this for us, right?” he presses. “Please?”
“Why do you need me to take my necklace off?” you ask. It had been a parting gift from your mother before you were put up for adoption, and in her note, she’d warned you never to take it off. You can already feel yourself becoming restless at the turn of this dream, what had started so sweet and sexual has turned darker than you’d been ready for.
“It looks like it needs a little… TLC, don’t you think, baby?” One large finger slips into your core, and at the same time, the man in front of you tugs down your dress to access your breast, flicking at the nipple.
“Tell us you’ll do this,” murmurs the one with his mouth on your chest.
Your fingers tangle through his dark curls, keeping him on your breast while he begins to suck on your sensitive bud. It’s practically impossible to say no to them.
“Okay,” you whisper finally, voice shaky. “Just for a little.”
“There’s our good girl,” the one in front growls, adding a hand to his friend’s so he can slip his own finger into your dripping core. They both begin to work you open, and you can’t help the gasps of pleasure that begin to escape you, your grip flying to broad shoulders to keep yourself standing between the two large men.  “Now we all get our reward.”
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three
You wake up feeling relaxed but needy. You remember ghosted touches as you head for a morning shower, washing your body and remembering strong hands trailing along the same path. 
As you do your usual skin routine, your necklace catches your eye in the bathroom mirror, and you’re reminded of the promise you’d made in your dream. Upon inspection, you do think the necklace could use a little refurbishment- you’ve been wearing the chain since childhood, where your commitment to never taking it off had been like life and death.
If you’d had a dream about removing it, if even for a little while, maybe that was your subconscious telling you it’s time to let go of the hold your mother has on you. After all, she gave you up- what do you owe her? What’s the point in still wearing this around?
With a sigh, you reach behind yourself, fiddling with the clasp. There have been a few times you’ve been required to take the necklace off, at hospitals, or the dentist, certain airports- it won’t kill you to remove it for a little while today.
You don’t think much of it as you set the heirloom onto your bathroom counter, in fact, you’re already planning out breakfast. You go to the kitchen, humming to yourself while you open the fridge to look at the contents inside. 
As you reach for the orange juice, the hairs on the back of your neck begin to raise, and you feel a powerful energy, as if you’re being watched.
“Goodmorning, sweet girl.” 
The sudden voice makes you jump, heart lurching into your throat as you whip around.
There’s a man standing in your kitchen. He’s dressed in all black, with a long silky jacket over top of dress pants and a matching charcoal shirt. His hair is dark too, and he has a smirk on his handsome face.
It only takes you a moment to assess ‘oh, he’s hot’ and one more to decide to throw your juice directly at him.
The man quickly lifts his hand, flicking two fingers. It’s as if the container of orange juice hits some invisible barrier, and it goes flying directly into your sink.
“Don’t be like that,” he tuts, clicking his tongue. “Is that any way to greet a man like me?”
“Who are you?” you ask, mouth going dry as you cower back against the fridge, feeling suddenly very naked in your tiny shorts and crop top. 
“An angel,” the man says simply, but the all black outfit is a dead give away that he’s lying.
“Yeah?” you let out a small laugh. “What’s your name then, mister Angel?”
He stares at you for a moment, something dark flashing over his features. When he smiles this time, you notice sharp canines. “Satan.” 
Your entire body runs cold. “I don’t…” You lick your lips. “I don’t see any devil horns, or a tail-”
“Would you like to see them?”
“No?” 
The man takes a step toward you. “You’re reacting better than I expected, Devil’s girl.”
“Devil’s girl?” you repeat, pressing your back tighter to the fridge in an effort to get away from him as he approaches closer and closer.
“That’s you,” he nods. “That’s what you are. It’s who you were destined to be.”
“I don’t know much about destiny-”
“Why would you?” he shrugs. “It’s been three hundred years since your family agreed to the dept they owe me. In that time, you witches have made it extra hard for me to keep track of all of you. I’m not surprised you don’t know anything about the prophecy, although, I will admit I’m a little disappointed you clearly haven’t stepped into your powers yet. Part of me had been hoping for a bit of a fight.”
“I can still fight you-” you insist, reaching out to grab a weapon from the knife block, brandishing it at the intruder.
He simply laughs, and with the flick of his fingers the knife goes flying out of your hand, landing in the sink next to the juice. “Silly little girl,” he grins. “Power reacts only to power, and though I can see you have power in your veins, it’s clear that no one has unlocked it for you. Don’t worry, I’ll help you get there.”
“Why would I want your help?” You cower back against the fridge, unable to move from where you’re standing. It feels like your feet are weighed down, and you wonder if this is another one of his magic tricks.
The devil puts his hand on the surface next to your head, blocking you into your fate. “Because, silly girl, at the moment, I’m your fiance, and soon, I’ll be your husband.”
“What?” The word comes out as a croak, your heart going a mile a minute in your chest.
“Three hundred years ago, one of your ancestors promised me a descendant as my prophesied betrothed. A girl of her bloodline who would bear my hybrid offspring, children with the power of demons and witches, bodies unrestricted by the laws of Heaven or Hell. A witch who would be identified by the mark of the Devil, drawn through with three lines.” 
Realization washes over you. The mark on your ass- the peculiar birthmark, the mark you’ve always been insecure about-
“How…” you swallow thickly. “Why now? How did you find me?”
“I had help. Two incubi found you in your dreams. You were wearing an heirloom with a ward against me, but lucky for us, they convinced you to take off the silly little crone necklace. I couldn’t touch you while you had it on, couldn’t be in the same room as you, but now… I can be here with you, and…” he reaches out a hand, dragging a finger along your collarbone, “I can touch you.” 
“And if I say no to all of this?” you ask. “If I say no to marrying a man who’s literally Satan?”
“Then I’ll convince you,” the demon leans close, his hot breath ghosting over your throat. “I can be awfully convincing… also, if it makes you feel better, don’t call me Satan.”
“Then what should I call you?”
“Seungcheol.” There’s a softening in his tone when he says this new name, and as you stare at his handsome face, you realize that is suits him. “And what should I call you, my sweet?”
You whisper your name and Seungcheol repeats it. You can tell he’s enjoying the taste of it on his tongue, and as you share this close proximity with the man who claims you’re his betrothed, you realize your innate attraction to him, despite the circumstance. 
“So…” you lick your lips. “What now?”
“Now, little sweet, I take you back to my Kingdom.”
“You mean Hell.”
He grins, and you once again get a view of those sharp teeth. You wonder what they’ll feel like against your skin, and the thought has your body tingling with lust and shame. 
“What if I don’t go with you.”
“Like I said, I’m awfully convincing, but on this one, you don’t have a choice.” He lets out a sigh, playing with a strand of your hair. “There are many religions in this world, little sweet, and in many of them, the King of Hell gets his Persephone. Although, in this case, you have no Demeter to protect you. The witch who promised you to me is long since dead, and your family line got muddled and convoluted in the hopes that it would hide you from me. Unfortunately for them, I’m here to collect, and there’s no one in the world who can stop me.”
“But, I mean-” you search for any way to get out of this. “I have a job-”
“Yeah? Tell me about this job.” 
You can’t believe he’s humouring you, a slight appearance of interest appearing in his features. “I’m a full time baby sitter, an au pair,  the girls are expecting me-”
Seungcheol lets out a low growl from deep in his chest. “So you’re good with children.”
Your mind goes back to what he’d said not minutes ago: ‘A girl of her bloodline who would bear my hybrid offspring, children with the power of demons and witches, bodies unrestricted by the laws of Heaven or Hell.’
Of course the King of Hell has an impreg kink and is turned on by your job as a nanny. 
“I can’t go with you,” you insist.
His hand wraps around your throat, thumb teasing your jaw. “It’s not your choice.”
His eyes flare a fiery red colour, and it feels as if the air is sucked out of your lungs. Your hair ruffles, as if you’re in a wind tunnel, and a moment later, you’re no longer standing in your kitchen.
Seungcheol releases your neck, gesturing to the room you’re now in. “This is your new home,” he announces, giving you a moment to take in the black marble floors, scarce furniture, and large bed in the center of the space. There’s a floor to ceiling window that encompasses a whole wall, and through it, you see what can only be decribed as a literal Hellscape. 
You can’t help it, you approach the window, mind going blank as you stare out at the fire fields. 
Seungcheol is silent as he comes up behind you, pressing two hands to the windowed wall and blocking you in with your back to his chest. You can feel his breath along your throat. “Welcome to Hell, sweet thing. This is all yours now, although, I doubt I’ll let you leave this room too often, not until I know I can trust you.”
It’s funny to hear Satan talking about his ability to trust you- a girl who’s done her best to be good her whole life. 
Seungcheol’s lips brush by your ear. “Should we get started, then?”
“Started on what?”
“You know what.” He presses a shockingly soft kiss to your throat, nose nuzzling by your jaw.
“Please, don’t hurt me.”
“I’ll be honest with you, little one, I’m not a nice man. But… I’ll be good to you, if you’re good for me.” One of his hands slips down from the window to grab at your hip, tugging your back flush to his chest. “The way you were good for Mingyu and Wonwoo in your dreams last night.” 
The names mean nothing to you, as the men in your wet dream had never given them, although, they must be the incubi he was talking about earlier. The fact that Seungcheol knows about your sinful nightly escapades with two other demons has you feeling shy, your skin heating at his words.
“Even so, demons need consent to enter human bodies,” the King of Hell explains. “Which means, if you withdraw your consent, I’ll be forced to stop. Although… something tells me you’ll consent.”
His hand glides from your hip to your exposed abdomen, and he teases you on what path he’s going to take- up to your breasts, or down to your aching core.
“What…” you swallow back a moan, “What makes you so sure?”
“I can smell your arousal, sweet girl, and there are signs I can see too.” His hand smooths up to your breast, and he squeezes your sensitive flesh, thumb brushing over your hardened nipple. “I think you’re well aware that I’m going to fuck you, in a way you’ve never even dreamed of being fucked before.”
Your breath catches, and you bite at your lower lip to stop a whimper from slipping out of you. Your back arches, pushing your chest more into his large palm.
Seungcheol grins against your throat. “I can see how much you want this, little sweet. Do you want to see how much I want you?”
He grinds his front against your ass, and you can feel his hard cock- fuck, he feels big. You shiver at the realization that your betrothed is packing, and Seungcheol laughs at your reaction.
“Tell me you want this,” he commands.
“I-” You bite your tongue.
His hand wraps around your throat, lips moving to your ear. “Tell me you want this.” 
“I want this,” you admit weakly. 
“That’s my good girl,” Seungcheol growls. His hand raises from you neck, fingers finding your jaw again. He prompts you to turn your head, meeting his gaze as he leans over your shoulder, looking down at you with a dark expression. 
You know what’s coming, and you can’t help yourself as he draws your lips to his own. Your eyes flutter shut, mind going blank as you enjoy the feeling of him. He’s warm, but you suppose you should expect that from the King of Hell. 
The kiss deepens all too quickly, and you find yourself turning in his embrace, grabbing at his broad shoulders to pull him even closer. 
Seungcheol lets out a growl when your breasts press against his chest, and he leans down, grabbing at the back of your thighs so he can lift you off the marble floor. He presses you back against the window, tongue tasting your own and dominating you as he kisses you like a man who’s waited a hundred years for this- or, strike that, a man who’s waited three hundred years. 
There’s a rage in the way he kisses you, rage in the fact that he was forced to wait so long, but behind the rage is something like desperation. His fingers dig into your thighs, his mouth unrelenting against your own.
You’re not sure how long the kiss lasts, but soon, he’s carrying you to the bed. He sets you onto the lavish mattress, tearing at your clothes until you’re naked before him. He towers over you, staring down at your body while you catch your breath.
“Beautiful,” he muses, reaching down to massage your breast, which sends sparks of delight through your entire form. “You were made for me. My sweet. My little queen. My lost witch.”
When he says it like this, something about it feels right. 
Something about him feels right, as if your soul has accepted him, even after such a short amount of time. 
Then, in the most shocking twist of events, the King of Hell himself gets onto his knees for you. “Come here, my sweet,” Seungcheol says softly, grabbing at your thighs to tug you down the silk sheets toward his face. “It’s time for me to have a taste.” 
He leans toward your core, taking in a lewd breath before letting it fan across your skin. Your core throbs at the proximity. Seungcheol grins at your reaction, tongue moving to prod his own fang- which is when you realize, his tongue is like his cock: monstrous. 
You suck in a choked gasp, eyes widening. You’d thought he was going easy on you by giving you his mouth first, come to find out his tongue alone is probably as large as most men’s cocks- this must be a Devil thing, but before you can think too hard about it, Seungcheol is licking your slit and your mind goes silent.
A whimper escapes you, your back arching, core pushing closer to his face. Seungcheol lets out a small chuckle, his large hands finding your abdomen to pin you in place. “Stay still and take it, pretty girl,” he warns. “Or there will be… consequences.”
He licks at you again, flicking your clit with as skilled a tongue as you’ve ever had. Your pussy is already throbbing with need, and it takes everything inside of you not to buck toward his face again.
You can feel him watching you when you throw your head back, whimpering at the way he circles your clit. Then he drags his tongue down, dipping it into your wet heat. Your body tenses at the intrusion, mind short cirucuiting as inch after inch of tongue invades you, licking at your walls while Seungcheol groans at your taste.
Fuck- a five inch tongue is definitely a demon thing, but you can’t bring yourself to hate it as he begins to literally tongue fuck you stupid. 
Not only does Cheol have the largest tongue you’ve experienced, and a willingness to use it, he’s got an eagerness in the way he eats you out. It’s as if he’s trying to devour you, holding nothing back as he growls and groans his way through working you up to your orgasm. 
The feeling bubbling in the pit of your stomach is hot and all consuming, your muscles tensing with effort as you get closer and closer to your peak.
“Fuck- Cheol-” you whimper, unable to hold it in any longer as your hips push toward his face, one of your hands moving down to grab at his hair-
It’s as if hot, invisible handcuffs wrap around your wrists, tugging them up and over your head, pinning you to the bed while you squirm with confusion and lust.
“What did I say about consequences if you didn’t behave yourself?” Seungcheol asks, pulling away from your core and licking his wet lips with that tongue of his.
“I-” you push at the invisible binds on your wrists. “I’m sorry- I was just so close-”
“So close that you lost your manners?” He taps his fingers along your abdomen. “That’s not very queenly of you, my sweet.”
“I’m sorry-” you say again, tears begin to form in your eyes as you feel your orgasm dissipating. “Please-”
“Please, what?”
“Your tongue- I was so close-”
“Do you really deserve it?”
“Yes!”
“You’ll be good for me?”
“Of course, I’ll be so good-”
“If you’re not good for me,” he warns, “you don’t get to cum, remember that.”
“Yes, okay, I understand-” you fight the urge to thrash in his embrace, and it feels like forever that he assesses you before finally bringing his face between your thighs again.
Just as his tongue is about to lap at your pussy, he stops. “Actually, I want to hear you beg for this. Beg for me to let you cum.”
You’re practically delirious, muscles still tight in preparation for your orgasm, and you’ll do anything he says right now. “Please, please, Sir- please let me cum!”
Seungcheol lets out a satisfied growl. “Sir, huh?” He clicks his tongue. “I’ll take that for now, but pretty soon, you’ll be calling me daddy.”
You whimper at his words, core dripping with spit and arousal. “Please-”
He buries his face in your pussy again, holding nothing back. His hands move down to your thighs, squeezing and adding a slight pain that has your entire body tingling. Gasps escape you, escalating in pitch as he drags you closer and closer to your orgasm again-
“Cumming,” you whisper, as the most intense orgasm of your life slams into you.
You do your best not to thrash around, but as Seungcheol obscenely tongue fucks you through your high, it’s the most you can do to stay as still as possible. You push up against the invisible binds on your wrists, gasping and whimpering-
“Fuck, my clit- it’s too sensitive-” you try to tell him, only for Seungcheol to focus more on the sensitive bud.
Your toes curl, a strangled sob escaping you at the stimulus. All you can do is lay there and take the pleasure he’s giving you- you’d thought he was being nice when he’d decided to eat you out, but you see now that maybe there was a bit of sadism in it. He’s clearly enjoying making you cum so hard that you’re beginning to cry, your muscles screaming at you from how tense you are-
“Please, please, please-” 
With one final flick at your clit that has you letting out a high pitched squeal, Seungcheol pulls away from your pussy. He blows hot air on your core and you twitch, thighs closing, body shaking in the aftershocks of your orgasm.
“Look at you, crying and I haven’t even given you my cock yet,” Seungcheol muses, standing up and staring down at your body. 
He pulls off his shirt, and even through your tears, you take a good look at his chiseled form. 
Fuck, he’s even more gorgeous with his skin showing. His shoulders are broad, arms all beefy and strong- he’s an absolute unit, but you guess you shouldn’t have expected anything less from the King of Hell. 
Then he goes for his pants, pushing them down to reveal the largest cock you’ve ever seen in person.
Your mouth begins to water, fuzzy mind trying to figure out just how many inches this man is about to bury into your wet, twitching pussy.
“Think you can take it, pretty girl?” he asks, wrapping a hand around the base and pumping his hard length.
“Something tells me you’ll make it fit,” you whisper, your core throbbing at the idea.
Seungcheol grins. “We just met, and you already know me so well. Guess that’s part of the whole destined to be together thing. Makes shit easier.”
Instead of getting on top of you, Seungcheol tugs you closer to the foot of the mattress, then, with one twitch of his fingers, the entire bed raises, positioning you exactly where he needs you to be in order for him to fuck you while standing up.
He grabs at your breast, teasing your nipple while you mewl. Your own hand reaches out for his cock, and he allows you to grab him. You wipe your thumb across the angry red tip, smearing precum along his shaft to add lubrication, making it easier to pump his cock slowly while he continues to tease your nipples. 
His hand begins to decend, and he teases two fingers along your pussy lips. “I guess I can be nice and stretch you out,” he sighs, slipping the digits into your core. 
It’s a kindness you’re not sure you expected from him, and it prompts you to squeeze his cock tighter in your palm while he begins to finger fuck you open, scissoring his digits and testing your inner walls. 
“I can’t fucking wait to ruin your perfect little pussy,” Seungcheol groans, fucking you even harder. “You’re squeezing my fingers so fucking well, gonna be a good girl and squeeze my cock even better.”
“Yes, Sir,” you whimper, abdominal muscles tensing as he begins to stroke your gspot. 
“Should I give you one more before I give you my cock?” Seungcheol asks, thumb finding your clit and making you cry out. “You’re already wet, baby, but I want you dripping when I finally fuck you stupid.”
You pump is cock faster as he pistons his fingers into your gspot, his thumb unrelenting on your sensitive bud. He works you up to another orgasm with deadly precision, your entire body tensing with pleasure before falling over the edge.
“That’s it,” Seungcheol growls, fingers fucking you through your high. “That’s a good girl, squirting all over my fucking hand-”
No man has ever made you squirt before, and the feeling is intense. You’re gasping, crying from how good it feels, like an overwhelming sense of relief washing over you, a warmth spreading out from your core.
The sound of your squirt is obscene too, gushy, spongy noises filling the room with each pump of Seungcheol’s fingers.
“Sir,” you whimper, “need your cock-”
“Yeah? Is my good girl finally ready to please her King?”
You can only nod, letting go of his cock in favor of grabbing the sheets, needing an anchor for what’s about to come next.
“You know what this means, right?” Seungcheol asks, teasing his tip along your wet pussy lips. “You know I’m going to cum so fucking deep inside of you that you’re going to be dripping for days.”
You nod again, whimpering at the idea.
“You want to be bred though, don’t you, pretty girl? You’re practically begging for it now. What happened to the girl who threw juice at me this morning? All it took was a little cock and you’re dick whipped for you King.”
“All it took was a big cock,” you correct him, skin flushing at the words that have just slipped out of him.
Seungcheol laughs, his canines sparkling in the low light of the room. “Biggest cock you’ve ever had,” he agrees. “Biggest cock you ever will have. After this, you’re mine. Completely. Body and soul.” 
In past relationships, you’ve toyed with the idea of forever. It’s been a thought that strikes fear in your heart, but for some reason, looking up at the King of Hell, forever doesn’t scare you anymore.
Something tells you he’s going to take care of you, in a way no one ever has.
It’s clear he’s very protective over you. He believes in soulmates, in destiny, in prophecy- you’re his perfect match, and he’s fully bought into that idea… maybe you’ll buy into it someday too.
“I’m yours,” you agree finally, staring up at the beautiful devil.
He bends over you, pressing his lips to your own. With one hand, he cups your cheek, keeping you close, and with the other, he guides his cock to your pussy again, slowly pushing in.
You gasp against his mouth at the immediate stretch of his cockhead in your tight core, your hands flying to his shoulders.
“I know,” he coos, “I know, but it will feel good in a second, I promise.”
You’re happy he made you squirt, because the wetness coating your pussy makes it easy for him to slowly slide inch after inch into your core. He thrusts shallowly, and the movement helps your body become adjusted to his massive size.
You’re shocked at how big he is- it was one thing to see it, and another thing entirely to feel him- to feel the vein running along the underside of his cock while it drags against your sensitive walls.
Seungcheol’s mouth is hot against your own, his tongue seemingly back to a normal size as he licks at your lips. You think he must be trying to distract you from the intense feeling of being stretched out on his cock, and it’s another kindness you’d never expected from him.
When he’s fully sheathed in your core, you both let out groans of pleasure. 
The King of Hell straightens again, looking down at you while his hands graze your form. “Ready, sweet girl?”
You nod, licking your lips. “Yes, please.”
He grabs your hips, holding you steady so he can begin to rut into you.
Your view of him is insane. How is his body so perfect? He’s chiseled in the best of ways, his chest looks downright biteable, his biceps bulging as he holds you down, his abdominal muscles clenching with each thrust-
You’re absolutely delirious for him, your own hands finding your chest to tease your nipples.
Seungcheol’s gaze shifts to where you’re touching yourself, and a smirk appears on his face. “Fuck, baby, that good, huh?”
You can only nod and let out a needy mewling sound, pinching at your nipples and making your back arch while he rails your pussy.
Each drag of his cock along your sensitive inner walls has you seeing stars, and when his hand flattens over your abdomen, you nearly loose it.
“This is how deep I am,” he tells you. “Bet having-” he groans, “Bet having your guts rearranged by the King of Hell wasn’t on your bingo card this year, was it, little love?”
“No, sir,” you shake your head, whimpering at the feeling of pressure on your stomach from his hand. God- why does this feel so good? You can feel him everywhere, he’s all consuming, and that familiar feeling of an oncoming orgasm is building yet again.
“I can feel you tensing up,” Seungcheol notes with a laugh, his thumb moving down to find your clit. “Gonna cum on my cock, aren’t you?”
“Yes, daddy,” you mewl, the title feeling more than natural on your lips.
Seungcheol’s grip on your hip tightens at the word, his thumb applying more pressure to your clit while he fucks you even harder, impaling you on his massive cock with each rough thrust.
“Beg for daddy to let you cum.”
“Please- please, daddy, fuck- I wanna cum so bad, wanna make you feel good-”
“I’m not cumming with you, not yet,” he warns. “As much as I love this position, there’s only one way I want you when I’m filling you with my seed, and that’s on your hands and knees, face buried in the pillows, crying like my good little whore.”
His words have your pussy fluttering around his cock, and it makes his grin widen.
“You like that, huh? Like the idea of being my perfect little cock slut?”
“Yes, daddy.”
“Made for me,” he grunts, pinching your clit and making you cry out. “You were fucking made for me. Cum on my cock, baby, show me you deserve it.”
You can’t even fight the command, your body short circuiting, muscles clenching as you follow through with what he wants. Your orgasm hits you like a ton of bricks, pussy clamping down on Seungcheol’s large cock.
He doesn’t stop, he only fucks you harder as you squeal and thrash against the bed- when you reach out to grab his arms, the invisible binds appear again, pinning your hands above you.
Seungcheol laughs, but there’s a groan in the sound too, and you know you’re probably squeezing him like a fucking vice. 
“Good girl,” he growls, and it only makes your pussy flutter harder.
The squelching sound returns, and you can’t even find it within yourself to be shy about the way your body is reacting to him, you’re too overwhelmed by the euphoria surging through your being to think cohesively.
“You’re crying again,” Seungcheol notes. “How cute.” His pace slows, and suddenly he’s grabbing at your jaw, hauling you into a sitting position, your face just inches from his own. 
His eyes are dark as he looks at you, then his long tongue is lolling out of his mouth, licking away your tears while you struggle and shiver, his cock buried so deep inside of you that you think you might faint.
“Tell me you’re ready for me to breed you,” Seungcheol growls.
“I’m ready for you to breed me,” you say meekly, core throbbing again at the idea.
The King of Hell presses his lips against your own, kissing your breath away while you claw at his shoulders. Then, as suddenly as he’d kissed you, he pulls away, cock slipping from your core and making you whine. 
“Onto all fours,” he instructs.
The bed slowly lowers to an acceptable height while you fumble on shaky legs to get into doggy position. 
“That’s my good girl,” Seungcheol praises you, the bed dipping as he joins you on his knees behind you. His large hands find your body, skimming along your sides.
Then he grabs the back of your neck, shoving your face down into the mattress. 
“Part of me wants to thank you for making this so easy,” he says. “But another part of me thinks you should be the one thanking me for giving you the opportunity to carry the children of the King of Hell.”
“Thank you,” you murmur.
Seungcheol scoffs. “You can thank me when my cum is dripping out of your used hole and you’re still begging for more.”
He slams his cock back into you, and a cry escapes your lips. God, in this position, he feels even deeper- if that’s possible.
Your toes curl at the sensation, and with every rough thrust, his balls clap against your clit, making you dizzy with pleasure.
His grip on the back of your neck increases, skilled fingers finding the arteries that flow to your brain- soon, you’re not only dizzy with pleasure, but dizzy from air being restricted too. It’s a beautiful, tingling feeling, and it has you clawing at the bed, arching your back as you moan like a desperate whore for him. 
You feel something on your clit, but both of Seungcheol’s hands are still occupied, one on your hip, one on your neck-
That’s when you realize that whatever invisible magic grip he’d used to pin you to the bed, he can use to pleasure you too-
Now, you truly feel him everywhere. 
“Fuck, fuck-” you struggle against the mattress, another orgasm bubbling in the pit of your stomach.
“That’s it, take it.” 
“Are you close?” you ask, and from the silence that you’re met with, you’re pretty sure you’ve caught him off guard. “Please tell me you’re close- I want to be full so bad, want you to breed me, Cheol- please-”
He sucks in a shaky breath, gripping your hip so hard that you’re pretty sure you’re going to bruise. His hand moves away from your neck in favour of grabbing both sides of your waist. He roughly pulls your ass back to meet each hard thrust.
“Keep begging.” 
“Please, daddy, please- fuck, this is what you wanted me for, right? This is what I owe you? Then give it to me- give me everything, breed me-”
“Cum for me first,” Seungcheol commands. “Cum on my cock so I know you deserve it.”
The magic on your clit suddenly feels like a harsh vibration, and it’s enough to tip you over the edge. You grab at the bed sheets, letting out a primal sound of pleasure as your core clamps down on Seungcheol’s length for a second time.
He lets out his own groan, and a moment later you feel his cum shooting deep inside of you, filling you up in ways you never even imagined possible.
He fucks you through your highs, his grip unwavering on your hips. It feels amazing to be used like this, to feel rope upon rope of Seungcheol’s seed invading you and coating your walls.
And the sounds he’s making- rough grunts and groans- you’ve never heard anything like it. You’ve never been this head over heals for someone before, and the notion shocks you.
Maybe you really were meant for each other- it’s hard to say what’s real as you sacrifice yourself to be his little cum dump, taking every last drop until he stills behind you, cock still buried to the hilt.
He’s breathing heavily, his gasps teasing your back. 
Neither of you say anything for a solid minute.
One of his hands leaves your hip, trailing along your spine. “Good girl.” 
You can only whimper in response. 
“I will admit, I’m still disappointed you’re not adept in the art of witchcraft, although, that’s hardly your own fault.” What a topic change. “I’ll find you someone to teach you, you’ll have lots of time to devote to the craft.”
His palm flattens against the small of your back, and he wordlessly prompts you to flatten onto your belly, pressing his own large chest against you like a blanket. His lips find your throat, and he peppers your skin in kisses. 
“Your days will be spent learning how to be a Queen, and your nights will be spent like this, with me.” His nose nuzzles by your cheek. “And tomorrow, I’ll make you my bride, officially.”
“Tomorrow?” you squeak. “Isn’t that a little… too soon?”
“I’ve waited three hundred years for you, little love. At this point, there’s no such thing as too soon.”
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🔮 preview.  “Trust me, little love, I haven’t cum in you for months, pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to help myself even if I tried.” With a grin, you allow Seungcheol to cup his fingers around the nape of your neck, dragging your lips to his. He kisses you as eagerly as he had the very first time, pushing you backward with his large form until you bump against the window. “I’ve got an idea,” your husband tells you, his mouth moving to your throat. “I wanna fuck you against this, want you to look at your kingdom while I pump our second heir deep into your perfect little pussy.”
cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, impreg kink, cum kink, oral (f recieving), fingering, demon magic as a vibrator, fucking against a window, fucking while wearing a dress, quickie, biting/marking/blood licking, breast play, dirty talk, praise, begging,  etc…   I petnames. (hers) baby, little love, little sweet, etc… (his) daddy, sir. 
👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.7k I teaser wc. 200
🌙 staring. Seungcheol x afab!reader
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bonus
Hell is no place to raise a child, and it’s not a place that is easily accessible to witches either- which is why, soon into your pregnancy, Seungcheol made it his mission to find you a safe haven on Earth that you could call home.
Nestled in a small valley, far from any towns or cities, Seungcheol crafted you a home. It’s a cottage, very different from the Hell palace you’d become accustomed to.
Your days are spent basking in the sunshine with your tutor, a witch of a strong family blood line who had long been acquainted with the King of Hell. Your teacher, a woman named Faeble, also acted as your midwife, ensuring your birth with your first child was as seamless as possible, with the aid of magic of course.
She tends to the wards, teaching you about the ways of the witches, and helps you raise your son- she’s become like the mother you never got to have, and your days are peaceful. 
In the evenings, Seungcheol appears, whisking you and your son away to the safety of Hell. It’s a simple little life you’ve made for yourself, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.
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list of things that made me scream in pjo episode 3
Percy picking grover because he trusts him not to betray him!!! THEY ARE BEST FRIENDS OK
Luke still comes off as so likable and inconspicuous that whole convo he had with percy and the shoes i just
GROVER AND THE CONSENSUS SONG I CANT
annabeth staring at the different flavors of candy in the gas station and not being able to pick and just buying all of them. Thats the annabeth we deserve
ANNABETHS KNIFE APPEARANCE ALERT and a fury is IMMEDIATELY killed
uncle ferdinand foreshadowing……………
When annabeth and percy start arguing in the woods and grover tries to change the subject by talking about his uncle and they both completely ignore him. I LOVE GROVER SO MUCH
the bickering in this episode is ON POINT by the way
like the stuff theyre arguing about makes sense. Yes i would be concerned about those things too
ESPECIALLY since theres such a focus put on trust (esp after percy learns that someone is going to betray him) and percy and annabeth are arguing about stuff theyve lied or havent told each other about???? Sorry that might be skipping ahead a bit but GOD is that the good stuff
i love that they changed how the three of them ended up going into auntie em’s because before it was a little concerning that none of them figured out it was medusa. Plus having a fury outside just adds to the tension a perfect amount i think, because it really traps them in there
all the discussion about the gods and what medusa talks to percy about in the kitchen - YES MAKE ME HATE THEM!! All of this is adding up to lukes motivations making so much sense in the end
ALSO!! Them harkening back to sallys line in the first episode when she tells percy that not all heroes look like heroes and not all monsters look like monsters - they brought it back so perfectly. Percy wanting to trust medusa because of what his mom said, medusa calling Poseidon a monster, ALL OF IT is so good
When theyre down in the basement and grover puts on the shoes and then just fucking. Flies away and disappears into the darkness yelling a little. and annabeth and percy just kind of helplessly watch him go before being like - welp i guess that plans not working. That was peak comedy
them using annabeths hat on medusa and then using it to kill alecto THEY WERE SO SMART FOR THAT!!! Also percy just the invisible severed head was a hilarious concept to me
when percy suggests burying the hat in the ground with the hat on to make sure no one bad finds it and annabeth just!!! Agrees!!! And then grover has to be like no that hats important to her its a gift from her mother!!! And then percys like well we’ll find another solution then. That whole scene was good yes i liked that
also annabeth revealing that grover was her protector too and percy asks about it and grover just changes the subject and doesnt answer. He is the KING of avoidance
also grover finally interrupting annabeth and percy when they start fighting and giving his whole speech about getting along. That wouldve felt a little cheesy and preachy and out of place from anyone else but considering grover tried to get them to sing the consensus song a few hours earlier i fully believe that he would say that
I AM IMPERTINENT
Why the fuck wasnt there a lin manuel maranda jumpscare warning. I couldve used one of those
but actually all the jokes in this episode were so on point. Like percy calling drachmas chuckie cheese tokens. And him arguing about voting on the bus. Anyways
10/10 episode i will be rewatching like eight times before next tuesday.
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avis-writeshq · 7 months
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summary: "drop everything now, meet me in the pouring rain."/"kiss me on the sidewalk, take away the pain." The first time you meet Spencer Reid, you swore that you could feel the sparks fly. You figured that it would be unreasonable to ever consider him to be anything more than a friend, and in a moment of selflessness you tell yourself that you are perfectly fine in that position. As time goes on, the line between romantic and platonic love begins to blur indefinitely. But it would be ridiculous to think that the resident genius would feel anything for you... right?
pairing: spencer reid x bau!fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, slow burn, mutual pining, happy ending warnings: rated 16+ for canonical criminal minds trauma, drugs/relapsing, torture, therapy, panic attacks/night terrors, guns, death, ‼️always read each fic's individual warnings for triggers‼️ taglist [CLOSED]: here playlist: here status: complete
main masterlist || ao3
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bonus! 00 — l.d.s.k
in other words, the first time spencer calls you 'angel'. // wc: 2.2k
part of my 2023-2024 milestone event! you can find it here!
01 — better than revenge
“she’s not a saint, no, she’s not what you think. she’s an actress.” 
you thought you were past the immature arguments now that you're an adult. you thought you left those in high school, or even college. maybe you thought you did. apparently, spencer thought otherwise. // wc: 10.4k
02 — haunted
“something’s gone terribly wrong, you’re all i wanted.”/“you’re not gone, you can’t be gone.”
it wasn't supposed to be like this. it was supposed to be a normal open-shut case. but people are unpredictable and you're left picking up the pieces as you work yourself to the grave. // wc: 10.1k
03 — labyrinth
“uh oh, i’m falling in love”/“thought the plane was going down, how’d you turn it right around?”
everything hurts. it's understandable, after everything he's went through. spencer wishes that he could erase every one of his scars. he wishes he could stop chasing the highs and embrace the lows. but at least he has you. // wc: 3.8k
04 — you are in love
“you can hear it in the silence.”/”you can hear it on the way home.”/”you can see it with the lights out.”
spencer didn't think that something like this could happen. no, rather, he wanted to deny the fact that something like this could happen. but all he can think about is you. in other words; the four times spencer wants to kiss you, and the one time he wishes he did. // wc: 3.4k
05 — enchanted
“please don’t be in love with someone else”/“please don’t have somebody waiting on you.”
the line drawn in the sand that was once supposed to be an invisible boundary to never cross is washed away by the sand. these are the kind of lines where you could never go back to should you cross them; and yet here you are, so scared to see the ending as the two of you pretend that this is nothing. // wc: 4.9k
06 — untouchable
“come on, come on, say that we’ll be together”/“i’m caught up in you.”
so close and yet so far. maybe in some twisted way, you are each other's romeo and juliet, doomed from the beginning. or maybe you are each other's hamlet and ophelia, the tragedy of a love that never really was. // wc: 4.3k
07 — wildest dreams
“he’s so tall, and handsome as hell”/”his hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room.”
never in your wildest dreams did you think that you would be privileged enough to experience something so good. spencer reminds you that these things are reality. // wc: 3.3k
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reblogs are always appreciated!
taglist [CLOSED]: here
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dcxdpdabbles · 4 months
Text
DCxDP Fic idea: What's the Rule again?
It starts with Wes Weston accidentally banishing Danny from his haunt. He didn't mean to, and he panicked along side Sam and Tucker when Danny was effectively evicted Danny from Amity Park.
See the four have become tight-knited friends every since the trio started talking to Wes back during the summer between freshman and sophomore year.
During that time, Wes's other friends had drifted apart once Wes' attention moved from basketball to ghosts- specifically Phantom. Danny had felt at fault that he was left a loner because of his secret identity and had invited Wes to sit with them at the Nasty Burger the second week of Summer break.
Wes was suprise to find out that Sam, Tucker and Danny were much better friends then the ones he hanged out with since third grade. He was used to people only speaking to him in class or the few times they hang out on breaks but the trio would message him about every single thought or meme they had. They could laugh togther until tears fell from thier eyes and they couldn't breath over the silliest of topics.
Wes also found out that the trio was supportive of all their interests. Sure, his old teammates and friends didn't make fun of him for crocheting or painting, but they wouldn't accompany him to an art market. Nor would they actually wear the scarves and gloves he made them.
They sure as hell didn't volunteer to help him run a booth to sell his own crocheting pieces after encouraging him to get a table. And they wouldn't cheer loudly when he made his first sale.
Wes also wouldn't have happily gone with them to an observatory, a Dark Poem Night, or even a tech expo. But he found that he had the time of his life watching Danny, Sam, and Tucker nerd out at the events much as much as he did at his own.
He also never had anyone he knew would be down to do him favors or even take notes for him when he was out sick.
So he became close friends with them, passing sophomore year with far more enjoyment than any other grade, then Junior year came and went just as fast and as fun. It was their last summer as high school students, so Wes wanted to do as many new activities as the four could together before Senior year.
Who knew what would happen to their little group after graduation? He wants to think they would all remain best friends but he's heard so many stories of people drifting apart that Wes was afraid of risking it.
That's why he researched urban myths and legends around the world regarding ghosts- more then any research paper he's ever done- and jokingly asked Danny to partake in some of them as a halfa.
They joked and laughed- throwing salt in a circle around Danny, lighting a candle for him to use Morse code with- but it wasn't until Wes got to the one where he tried smoking Danny out with a banishing spell he found in an old book that things turned from funny to horrible.
It worked
Danny was flung from his haunt- effectively banishing him from the area he was haunting. Dann just happens to be haunting all of Amity Park, so he ends up on the outskirts of town, unable to cross the invisible line.
Wes practically choked on his tears as he apologized for Danny not being able to cross back in, but the other three quickly informed him that they, too, took part in it, and it was no one's fault. Danny just had to find a way to reverse the banishing spell.
The only problem was that the book pages Wes found online were only on the banish spell itself and nothing else. He couldn't even find the whole book since it belonged in a private family library.
The family library was located in the most dangerous city in America. Gotham.
The library also belongs to a very wealthy family that had recently all but perished except for their lone heir- Timothy Drake.
Now Wes attempted to contact Timothy Drake in hopes of having the other teenager send him copies of the book, but he never got a reply. He thinks it was due to not explaining why he needed the book and ending up sounding like a bot or a scam.
With each passing day of Drake not responding Danny's situation grew worse. Jazz luckily covered for them, claiming to have signed Danny up for some camp so his parents wouldn't think he was missing.
That would only work until school started, which was a time limit that was weighing on all their shoulders as they tried to find a counterspell.
Jazz, Tucker, Sam, and Wes each took turns driving out of town to bring him food and a change of clothes so Danny could figure out his situation, having to do it in shifts to not alert any of their parents.
However, without his haunt to pick up natural exoplasm, Danny was growing weaker and weaker by the day, looking half stave out in the little motel room Sam rented for him as they tried to get him back into the town.
Danny needed to either make his way back to his haunt or go somewhere that was so infected with ectoplasm that it actually felt cursed.
Tucker found the solution to all their problems with a few hacking skills that he learned to fight off Technus' invasive attempts of his personal tech.
"A full ride to Gotham Academy?" Wes' mom gasped staring at the acceptance letter her son eagerly showed her. "With a promised full ride to any university in America?!"
"Yeah, Tucker, Sam, Danny, and I all got accepted for our work on clean energy generators. We sent it in for the Wayne scholarship, and we won! The only thing is that it's a requirement to graduate from high school in Gotham. I have to go!" Wes gasped, eyeing both his dad's and Kyle's doubtful frowns. He couldn't afford for them to say no when Tucker had worked so hard to bump them up as Winners. Bruce Wayne's computer security is no joke. "This is the once in a life time opportunity!"
"But where would you live?" His dad asks, shaking the letter. "Wes, this is clear across states, and it only covers school expenses."
"Sam's parents bought her a house. She's going to rent us some of the extra rooms." It was a lie; her parents would never let four boys- especially these boys- rent from their daughter. She told them that the school provided co-dorm rooms "I can get a job at the local library- I already sent them my resume and got a call for a interview."
"What will you do for food?" Kyle asks. "We both know you can't cook."
"I can't, but Danny does. He's amazing in the kitchen."
Here, his parents share a loaded look. "So you'll be living with the Fenton boy....."
"Well. Yeah? I already said that?" He returns, confused, and Kuule coughs to cover a laugh. Confused he stares at his older brother, who quirks a grin at him.
"Don't worry about it." Kyle laughs, but his wiggling eyebrows tell Wes he should worry a lot about it. He would inisit a little more to find out what Kyle knew, but he needed to convince his parents more.
Eventually, after five days of attempting, Wes got their permission and could tell his friends, who all shared the same results. The remainder of the summer is spent preparing for their move- finding the house, getting it furnished, packing their things, transferring schools- it's a lot, and he's never been so grateful for Sam's wealth.
She hires people to get it all done for her-including hiring a trailer to take their four cars-, so he only has to worry about his packing. The four meet up at the airport on the day they live, flying first class thanks to Sam's grandmother.
Tearful goodbyes and good luck from their families leave them all a bit down but they board the plane and take off without too much trouble.
While on the plane, Sam turns to the boys. "Does everyone remember the phases of the plan?"
"Phase one: Blend into Gotham until we find Timothy Drake" Tucker states, pushing up his glasses
"Phase two: Get Drake to invite us over to his house and find the book," Danny tacks on, tapping his foot on the ground.
"Phase three: Find all the pieces for the counterspell- usually scattered around the magical family's ancestral home- and get Danny home!" Wes shouts, raising a fist in the air.
Sam nods, looking satisfied. "And what are we not allowed to do? Danny?"
"Become a vigilante when my ectoplasm is on a limited intake" Danny grumbles, sinking into his chair. "Let it to the Bats and keep my head low."
"Good. Tucker?"
"I'm not allowed to hack into anything because it can gain the attention of the Bats or Mr.Wayne, and then we'll be on a wanted list" Tucker sighs "No matter how much fun it would be to battle it out with the legendary Oracle."
"That's right. I'm not allowed to go anywhere near Poison Ivy no matter how much I want to yell at her to go fix the coal riffs and cut down forests instead of wasting her powers on the stupid heist." Same all but bites, and then she turns her attention to Wes, who startles.
"Wes?"
"Wait, I have a rule?"
"Course, man," Tucker laughs. "We all have rules."
"But I'm not interesrted in anything in Gotham besides the Drake grimoire!"
"Wes," Danny says gently, his soft baby blue eyes making him a little hot under the collar as they stare into his soul. "You're not allowed to fall in love with any of the Bats."
Wes mind blanks, then reboots, "Excuse me!?"
"We know you had a crush on all of us here Wes and Val" Sam laughs when he turns wide eyes at her. "It's cute but you really shouldn't try for the Bats. They're the violent sort"
"What?!"
"Yeah, you have a type, and it's a hero or hero adjacent." Tucker shrugs "It's cool."
Wes can only gape at them, no matter how much he tries to convince them; otherwise, the three refuse to remove his rule. He is highly offended by it.
Yes, he's never really gone out with Team Phantom, just because when he joined the group, most of Danny's rouges were long gone leaving behind the tiny ones that he could handle on his own, but he wasn't into heroes!
And okay- maybe, maybe at one point or another he may have had slight crushes on his friends but they were quick and gone before the first school year together!
So the rule is utterly ridiculous!
At least, he thinks so until five days later when he's trying to find his way around the new neighborhood and gets caught up in a mugging. He could have quickly taken the mugger- humans had nothing on ghosts- but he attempted to talk the young adult out of it when Red Robin swooped in like a knight in shining armor.
He may have just stared at the hero's tight-skin outfit instead of letting the hero know that he could handle it, and he may have made a fool of himself when Red Robin asked if he was right.
"Yeah tots fine" He babbles. Ugh, who says tots?! He wants to stop talking but when Wes gets nervous he tends to just word vomit and he could hear himself doing it now. "You know who else is fine?"
Red Robbin raises a brow, likely knowing the pickup line. Cowering, Wes changes the answer in a panic. "Timothy Drake!"
Red Robin stills. "Come again?"
"Timothy Drake, a boy in my class! He's fine that you think he was part siren or something. You've seen him, right? I mean you have eyes!" He repeats with a squeal "I want to get into his private liberty!"
"Do you?" Red Robin tilts his head, a slight smirk forming on his mouth. "You should try flirting with him then. Maybe he can give you a tour."
"Oh, I want more than a tour!"
Why did he say that?!
At least the hero in front of him laughs until a shout has them both looking away.
Danny is running down the street screaming his name, thank the Ancients. When Wes turns around to wave at him, Red Robin vanishes without a sound or trace.
Like a ghost.
Oh no, that's hot.
"Danny, I broke the rule"
"For Ancient's sake, it hasn't even been a month."
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r3starttt · 16 days
Text
PUT AWAY THE PRIDE
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Summary: fucking ur bff who's in a relationship with a man, ew!
cw: hate sex. comphet abby. homophobic bf ew!!!!. dom!abby sub!reader. fingering. sissoring. pet names. (baby, pretty girl) finger sucking. prasing kink(?
an: creds to @atyourmerci for the Abby pic!!!
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If you want it, you can have it. If you need it, we can make it
"Are you fucking- god abby" he'd crossed the line. That line that was invisible to you but still the thiniest for abby, until now, or so you wished because she'd go back to him once you've made your 'shoulder to cry on' function.
Abby was mad, even behind a phone you could feel how she couldn't bare him for now. You had no clue what happened just knew Abby's boyfriend had fucked it all again and she needed you, again.
The usual routine you forced yourself to not get used to but somehow became it, a routine. "Yeah, you know you can always.... just hurry" you ended the call abruptly. Otherwise, abby would not only be mad at that man, and nor you or her could take that kind of encounter currently.
You knew she was on her way already. So once more, with legs crossed on top of your coffee table, you did nothing but wait for her to arrive at your appartment. It always made you feel pathetic.
Her boyfriend despised you to say the least, from the moment you first met. And honestly you never knew why, even though you begged abby at one point to ask him herself just to not cause any trouble yourself. It didn't work.
You've had some alone encounters with him whenever Abby took you out and he had to be there. Nicely asking how his week or day had been, trying to make a small conversation with the typical 'long time no see, huh' or directly asking him - at one point, what the fuck was his problem with you. He was so stupidly manlish with his demeanor towards you it made you think if maybe abby wasn't using the proper words to describe you. Like he wasn't the problem.
On the other hand, your relationship with abby became confusing as her relationship with him grew bigger. Like it's toxicity was slowly getting to her, to you.
And not the type to ruin the friendship forever but just ruin the platonic. The one where sometimes spending time alone ends up in you drunk not moving your eyes away from her lips as she speak, or the one that makes her rest her hands somewhere on your body whenever you go out with friends. The one that ends in a weird exchange of words whenever you try to talk about it.
It was still unbearable tho. Always third-wheeling, then fighting with eyes only every time you made accidental eye contact with him, and eye fucking abby whenever he didn't pay attention to her, or you. Or feeling abby eating you alive with the eyes, just for denying it all later but not completely because you two had always been in the type of friendship where you're close with your friend to a point there's no shame about anything and you can make those type of jokes.
Jokes that somehow turned passive aggressive, not only between you two but also between abby and that men you equally despise.
"The fuck did he do now, mhm?" You sighed, resting your face on top of your shoulder, letting all your weight press over the shared couch. Drunk eyes paying detailed attention to Abby as she spoke. "I'm a fucking mess, that's all" she seemed off, something that genuinely troubled you considering how stubborn she was. "You're not, well, a... decent, nice mess" her laugh was gorgeous, it made you smile the moment you hear it. Her eyes met yours, as if you could talk with just that, a look. "Thanks"
"He's the problem. Even with that personality of yours, you've done no wrong" she pouted, it could only mean this was getting awkward for her. You couldn't care any less. "You're fucking charming abby, and it kills me youre with such person. Also, a man? Be for real" it was a joke, but that look on her face, it wasn't such simple for her. "I'm just saying, you're hot and so young and you have so much shit to live, he's holding you from that"
Abby turned around, her usual braided hair danced along her back, resting near her face. A sudden smile elicted on her face, she was about to bother you. "You think so?" You furrowed your brows, confused at what she meant "I'm hot?" She cleared herself. You just laughed, nodding while desperately trying to readjust yourself in a less compromised position, so near to her. "I know so"
"Yeah?" She left the glass with alcohol in it resting somewhere beside her. You smiled back at her, feeling her weight get overwhelming over you every second. You had to stop it. "Want more?" You didn't know bit alcohol would eventually become your one salvation from sin and fall into temptation.
Abby went home that night, just to hear him talking shit about you, and it clicked. She tried hard to give him a chance, because that meant she could have a chance as well. A chance for what? To prove she wasn't fantasizing about you in a way more than a friendship, to give all but you a taste and make her mind on what she liked and how she liked it. It failed, abruptly.
Because she lost time and wasted her persona in such men like him. And after running to you every time she couldn't bare it anymore, looking at your hands, neck, lips, eyes whenever she got drunk, after having so many late night talks with you whenever the awkwardness she felt wasn't rough enough to not keep her sober, she realized she could not run away from you, in fact, she needed you and needed to run in your direction every time. She had to give you a chance now.
That's the reason behind his hate towards you. No matter what, you'd always be her biggest priority. And god, she changed so much when she was with you, she'd transform into the girl he fell in love with, the one he lost once they actually started dating.
You had such a delightful effect on her, and he hated the idea of not being able to be the one for her.
Yet whenever he'd ask about you, abby would only say how close you two were since forever and how you wouldn't be a bother in the relationship. All of that was pure lies to keep it calm.
And those replies eventually got to you, like a day after that night you swore she wanted to kiss you. "I was drunk, doesn't mean anything" "what? You think I'll kiss you?" You wanted to dragg her back home with that man she'd found and make it clear you wouldn't let her be such an asshole. You didn't of course, both just laughed it off.
Until now, you couldn't wait for her to come and make it all clear, she was mad and it might not be the greatest idea but why should you care if she's not in the mood? You weren't the one behind that mood, not guilty of any of her shit.
Or that was the plan, because seeing the tears contained on the corner of her eyes, right about to fall and make a mess on her face. You simply couldn't.
"What did he do?" It wasn't the typical scenario. This was an unexplored rage, as if there was some sort of attraction that grew stronger as every second passed by. Maybe this was it, you thought.
Abby's red eyes met yours in such a relieved way, like she'd found something she felt eager to find. It was just you.
It caught you out of guard the way her hands travelled to the sides of your arms. " I realized I needed you"
The only thing you could come up with was a stupid 'huh'. Wandering your eyes all over her face and body. Abby had her own locked on you, probably as confused as you.
She had to. Her salty lips pressed on you, followed by the palms of her hands. You reciprocated, standing still but trusting your lips to do all the work necessary.
It's sloppy and messed, a silent fight between the silence that fills the ignored pain you're feeling and the anger she's been carrying all the way here.
It was miserable, her palms on your body, trying to find a way to bring you closer as you tried- not to step back but to prevent yourself from getting into it. Abby was only yours for a couple of hours and it was painful to have her so close to you but not having the actual chance to claim her yours.
"Fucking hate you for this" you murmured. Her eyebrows scrunched, there was such an euphoric feeling inside her, a mix of fear, confusion and anger. All for you
"Yeah?" She mocked you, resting her hands on the inside of your clothed stomach. "It could've been different"
"It will be" her lips smacked aggressively over yours again, trailing a path down your jawline.
Her fingers moved up your back, getting rid of your bra in such a pathetic way. You took her shirt off, trying to take the closest and clearest look of what you would never be able to have you you craved so much.
She laughed at it, doing the same for you. Her hands swayed all the way down your ass, gripping it with such force it burned. You let out a chocked breath, feeling her lips move on their own way down your body.
Her knee stepped in between your legs, so easily you could feel the vibration from her chuckle right in the middle your breasts. Fucking torture you've got yourself into.
She couldn't get enough but had to, running her fingers along your waist, down your cunt. Her fingers slide in between your slicked folds, slowly outside your cloathed arousal, begging for her.
Her palms slapped over it severely times, eliciting open mouth whimpers out of you, deliciously filled with her tongue against yours to shut you.
You tried to get her to stop, only receiving groans as a response. Until she got tired of it "fucking shut up and take it, be good, can't you?"
There wasn't a specific idea on her mind but take as much as possible out of you, to make a memory in honor to that gross man she ever felt the slightest of attraction to. Mocking you and him for her own pleasure, once in her whole life she thought.
Her fingers finally touched your clit, ager for it. The circles over it were so slow, you kept bucking your hips on her hands, attempting to get more friction. "Fucking stay still" abby groaned, thrusting her fingers inside you. God it felt glorious.
You voiced the most perfect whimpers for her, the way her name came out of your mouth, followed by the most prettiest pleads. It was driving her insane.
The sounds coming out of you were so obscene. Abby couldn't be in such good paradise
She made sure to curl her fingers at every thrust, speeding enough to make it painfully confusing for you.
Her lips kept busy shushing you, taking a taste of your nipples, your clavicle, every inch of your body.
"Shit- c'here" you demanded, dragging her by the jawline as the knot on your stomach grew overwhelmingly fast. She tastes better than anything you've ever had in your life, something worth the pain it'll cause you later when she's gone.
You let out a loud cry at the abruptly of her actions, leaving you empty. "Open" her middle and index finger fully covered in your wetness. You obeyed, feeling the palms of her fingers rest in your tongue, forcing you to take a taste. "Doing so good f' me, such a pretty girl"
She dragged you to the couch, the one that brought you closer that day she'd first approach to you in this way, whatever this was. The one that brought you closer when she left that day, and whe she laughed this off. Such an ironic situation.
It all brought a series of conflicting thoughts to your mind. Distracting you from such pleasure you should be enjoying.
Her hands grabbed the hooks of your jeans, dragging them down your legs. She made sure to get in charge of all the hard work, you should've notice-
Her weight was already on top of you. The way her eyes wandered all over you face, it was different. Your hands got locked by hers, breathing heavily at the sudden sight and feeling that ran through your body, that made you forget whatever was keeping your mind busy some seconds ago.
"Spread 'em open, be a good girl f'me" Abby groaned the moment she could finally get to be so close to you. Letting all of her weight rest over your body, aggressively humping in between your legs, rubbing her clit against yours.
Your ears were filled by her whimpers, groans whenever she got too overwhelmed. There was nothing you could to but let her use you for her own pleasure, not that you weren't use to it.
"Fuck baby... so good f'me, so so good" she whined, speeding her moves in between your legs. There could never be a better sight than this.
Some locks of her hair starting to stick on her forehead, the sweat covering her abs, her arms flexing to support her own way and oh, all this just for you to see. Sure he'd never seen such scenario.
She sounded so fucking pretty, on top of you, crying at how deliciously your clits rubbed together. You, on the other hand, felt like just cumming by the sight, by the idea of her body displayed like this.
Your thighs were ridiculously covered in both your and her slick, it increased at her every move, sloppy and messy, such a desperate disaster.
Your pleads and whines were completely ignored, she'd already given you what you needed and ni longer cared about whatever you felt you needed or deserved. This was about her.
Still you managed to wrap around her, feeling her drench your thighs even more as a breathless 'fuck' came out of her lips, letting go of your hands, already getting numb at her grip.
"See? Promised you it'll get better"
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awearywritersworld · 7 months
Text
"i'll always come when you call"
gojo satoru x reader summary: when you're gravely injured on a mission, your best friend finds you just in time w/c: 1.35k tags/warnings: friends to lovers, obviously reader is hurt but nothing is terribly graphic, though there are lots of mentions of blood, hurt/comfort, fem!reader, no use of y/n, lots of emotional distress for gojo, he punches a wall, ft. a very worried yuuji and gumi a/n: home boy is in pieces at the thought of losing us. i make myself emotional masterlist check out my latest work for gojo here
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it wasn't supposed to go like this. not hardly, not half.
a simple mission turned into an ambush. what was originally one mid-grade cursed spirit became several. you lost count somewhere around the fifth.
rain patters against your body, washing away the crimson that's seeping from numerous wounds. at first everything hurt, but now all you feel is a foreboding numbness spreading throughout your limbs.
you hardly remember slipping your phone from your pocket or dialing his number when you hear your best friend's voice ring out from the speaker. "hey, princess. how'd it go?"
you try to speak, but no sound comes out. eventually, you manage a choked cough and the faint sensation of liquid flowing from the corner of your mouth accompanies the effort.
you barely make out his worried tone calling your name before your phone clatters to the ground, screen going black as it lies in a puddle of pale red.
you fight to keep your eyes open, you really do, but you're incredibly drowsy and the coldness has begun to ebb away, replaced by a comforting warmness.
you always imagined the light that welcomes you into the afterlife would be a blinding white, but instead, it's a familiar shade of blue.
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an unsettling feeling had made a home in the pit of gojo's stomach long before he received your call. he's pacing, his eyebrows furrowed with inexplicable worry when his ringtone fills the room.
relief floods through him once he sees your name on the screen, but it's short lived when your end of the line remains quiet. he hears you sputter and it isn't a second later that he teleports to the city where your assigned mission is.
his heart is hammering away, a dull thudding in his ears, as he follows the traces of cursed energy that grow stronger with each long stride. he covers ground impressively fast, though as soon as his eyes land on your body, it's as if everything shifts to slow motion.
it feels like he's fighting against an invisible force as he approaches the spot where you lay. he can hear someone howling your name and it's not until he feels the hoarseness in throat that he recognizes the voice as his own. his knees crash painfully into the pavement at your side.
the situation is worse than he could have imagined. it's looks like you, sure, but it can't be you. not when your eyes have just fluttered shut, no movement beneath your lids. not when your body is still, no steady rise and fall of your chest. and certainly not when it looks as if you're—
"wake up," he begs, shaking your shoulders. "please, wake up!"
not wasting another moment, he gathers your limp body in his arms, one arm behind curling around your shoulders, the other hooking behind your knees.
he teleports directly into the infirmary and shoko nearly scolds him before she takes in your dreadful state. the cigarette that was hanging between her lips falls to the floor. "get her on the bed."
she moves around the room in haste, pulling drawers and cabinets open wildly.
"she's going to be okay, right? tell me that she's going to be fine," he implores, panicking when the brunette fails to reassure him. "..shoko!"
"get out, satoru!" she barks. she can't concentrate, not while one of her oldest friends is hysterical with worry and the other is lying there half dead.
"please, i can't—"
"now!"
he stares at you for a moment before turning on his heel and retreating to the hall. his fist meets the wall with such force, the drywall crumbles to the floor. gojo himself follows suit soon thereafter.
the commotion catches the attention of yuuji and megumi, who round the corner just seconds later.
"sensei—" yuuji begins to question, but the words die in his throat.
gojo's crouched down, his face buried in his hands. they're still covered in your blood. he wants to scream and yell and curse the world, but instead, he clenches his jaw so fiercely it's a wonder his teeth don't crack under the pressure.
the boys share a look, both startled by the present state of their usually frivolous teacher. neither of them need to ask who's behind that door, they know there's only one person who could elicit such a reaction from gojo.
megumi approaches him cautiously, swallowing his own concern, and places a hand on his shoulder. "she'll be okay."
the white haired man doesn't look up, just nods weakly in acknowledgement. megumi joins yuuji who is already sitting on the floor with his back pressed to the wall, and the three of them wait together in silence.
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gojo hardly moves until the infirmary door opens, which makes him rise so quickly it leaves him dizzy. shoko surveys the three of them before speaking.
"she's.. she's still unconscious, but you should be with her. she's been calling for you in her sleep—"
she scarcely finishes before gojo makes his way through the door. shoko stays in the hallway to update yuuji and megumi, giving the two of you a bit of privacy.
pulling up a chair beside you, he threads his fingers between yours, your skin still frightfully cool. though it's not until he hears you mumble his name that he truly falls apart.
his free hand flies to his mouth in an attempt to stifle his sobs, his shoulders shaking. this all could have gone very differently and the thought makes him sick to his stomach. he should have gone with you, or at the very least, he should have gotten to you faster.
"'toru?" your raspy voice fills his ears.
when he looks up to find you peering at him through tired eyes, the tension that'd been weighing heavily in his chest dissipates and he exhales deeply. still, his voice trembles. "hey, sweetheart."
every part of you aches, but it's nothing compared to the guilt you feel upon seeing gojo like this— his eyes red and swollen, your blood painted across his hands and face.
you have a vague memory of everything that happened. you remember just barely exorcising the last cursed spirit. you remember being sure you weren't going to survive and using your last bit of strength to call him. "you found me."
he nods, his hand squeezing yours. "i thought i was too late.. i.. i thought i'd lost you."
his voice cracks and it nearly shatters your heart, tears welling up in your eyes. "i'm so sorry, 'toru. i'm sorry i wasn't strong enough, t-that you had to come save me."
you attempt to sit up, but he puts a hand to your shoulder and shakes his head. "don't you dare apologize. i'll always come when you call and i'll always be there when you need me. you have to know that."
the intensity of his gaze forces you to look away and the conviction in his voice makes you feel woozy. thinking about it, there really never had been an instance in which gojo wasn't there for you. he's the person you've sought out time and time again and he's never once let you down.
his hand finds your face and he cups your cheek gently, his thumb wiping a tear from beneath your eye.
"i love you," you blurt out.
you stare at each other with wide eyes and the seconds tick by markedly until he finally whispers, "say it again."
"i love you."
he had no idea how much he needed to hear those three words fall from your lips until he nearly lost the chance forever. truthfully, it makes him feel a bit foolish, but now was hardly the time to dwell on that.
he smiles for the first time in hours, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. "i love you, too."
and he always has— he knows that now.
"you should get some rest, angel," he suggests tenderly. "i'll be right here when you wake up."
2K notes · View notes
Text
Cabin Fever - (Regina George x F Reader)
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Fandom;
Mean Girls (2024)
Pairings:
Regina George x Reader
Summary:
The students of Northshore go on a school trip for a week in the forest. You end up getting to know the apex predator in a way you’d never seen her before.
Warnings;
Underage smoking, underage drinking, implied ED
Parts
Part 1// Part2//
School trips were never really your thing. Sure it was good to be out of classes but to you it just seemed like an extension of school and honestly you’d rather be anywhere else.
One of the teachers thought it would be a bright idea to take you all out of school for a week to spend it in a forest ‘immersed in nature’. Possibly their tactic to get everyone to stop being at eachother a throats especially after the whole Cady incident a few months back.
It didn’t help that your best friends Janis and Damien both ended up getting sick at the last minute so couldn’t come with you , now you had to stay in your shared cabin alone. At least you didn’t have to room with a random person the whole trip, small mercies I guess.
The coach drive there was boring. You sat near the front, making sure to put your bag on the seat next to yours so nobody tried to sit with you. Of course Queen Regina and her minions took ownership of the back of the coach, that’s why you decided to sit upfront. Best to stay out of the firing line.
It’s not that you hated Regina, you understand why she’s the way she is. It’s a smart move to position yourself at the top of the food chain to avoid being mauled. Your tactic has always been to just steer clear of the food chain entirely which has worked so far.
The coach finally comes to a stop after a few hours and everyone shoves their way off and mills around in groups before a teacher starts to call out names and lodge numbers so people can go and unpack.
As soon as you turn the corner you hear Regina’s shriek of horror.
“Eww, what the fuck are these. I thought we were staying in chalets”
You roll you eyes. The cabins were clean, neat, maybe a little rustic. Of course Regina would still have to be dramatic about it.
“I’m sure forcing us to stay in one of these is some form of neglect.” She snarks at Mrs Norbury as she takes her hot pink suitcase over to her accommodation.
Luckily you get assigned one of the cabins at the edge of the forest, it’ll be quiet. Unfortunately it’s the next cabin over from the plastics. Not that they’ll even notice you there, I’m not sure any of them even know your name. It feels safe to be invisible, if not a bit lonely.
Once everyone is settled, a teacher comes round to each cabin explaining that tonight you can just get settled. No hiking or activities today, just a campfire and dinner later. That suits you perfectly. You sit on the creaky bed in your cabin, pull out your Switch console and start to get lost in a game. Hours pass before dinner call and you make your way, alone to the campfire.
You sit on your own, out of the way of all the different high school cliques. At this point you wish Janis and Damien were here. It feels vulnerable sitting alone.
To distract yourself you watch the other groups like a documentary maker. Noting the way they interact, the tension between them and the clique next to them. However nobody quite catches your eye like Regina.
She’s like a lioness. She has this invisible hold over everyone. They can all fuck about in their own groups but as soon as someone steps a foot out of place she roars and swishes her mane and everyone scampers back to obedience.
Currently she’s sitting at a bench with Gretchen and Karen, they’re talking enthusiastically about their plans for the trip; makeovers, cabin decoration, girly shit. Regina seems zoned out, she’s been pushing the same bit of food around her plate for a good 15 minutes. Every few minutes it’s like she’s trying to solve a puzzle, rearranging everything until teachers tell us to go back to our cabins and rest for the evening. You’re not sure you saw her eat a single thing, the food is probably not up to her standards.
Regina stands and suddenly seems snapped out of her trance, flashing a grin and summoning Karen and Gretchen back to the cabin with her.
You follow, a good distance behind. No point getting too close to danger, and slip back to your Cabin unnoticed.
There’s not much to do alone in a forest so you end up putting on a movie and start a new page in your sketchbook. Janis and Damien are the only ones to know you draw. That’s how you ended up speaking with Janis in the first place. If that news ever got back to Regina she’d probably have something to finally pick on you for, but so far you aren’t even on her radar.
You lose a lot of time sketching out some of the trees you can see out of the window, lots of tall, looming pines fill the page, you start to sketch a lion between the trees.
Eventually darkness creates a blanket around the forest. There’s a soft glow from many lamps outside of cabin doors, but past that, the forest seems endless in the dark. It’s 10:30pm. Teachers are fast asleep. Students definitely are not.
You hear snickering coming from the plastics cabin. Their lights are still on, not that you care at all.
Since all the teachers are asleep you decide that it’s probably safe to sneak out and have a cigarette. You stand down the side of the cabin so that your silhouette is obscured slightly by a bush and hunt through your pockets for a lighter. Finally you light the cigarette, trying to blow the smoke downwind, away from the teachers window.
“Karen! Fuck! Would you just stop puking, shut up!”
You watch from the shadow as Karen falls out of the door and begins to heave into the bush next to their window. Gretchen follows quickly, shaking Karen by the shoulders, desperately trying to get her to shut up so they don’t wake anyone. Regina steps out too, slightly loosing balance and nearly falling down the steps after them.
Clearly they’re all drunk. Someone must have snuck alcohol in.
Regina tries to keep a composed look but you see panic flash across her face briefly as her eyes scan around them, watching for any witnesses. You stay completely still against the cabin wall.
Karen finally stops for a second and they grab her by the arms to try and get her back inside. Their balance isn’t very good either and on the way in Regina’s foot connects briefly with a terracotta plant pot which wobbles for a second and then crashes to the ground, smashing over the front step. A sound that cuts through the night air.
The light to the teachers cabin flicks on.
You quickly drop the cigarette and stomp it out before silently scrambling back into your room, making sure the door closes soundlessly, watching intently through the window.
Mrs Norbury storms over to the plastics lodge, already suspecting they caused the noise.
You can’t make out exactly what’s being said. There’s a lot of shouting, from both parties. Then Mrs Norbury leaves, and the plastics light goes off too.
You quickly get into bed. It’s unlikely anyone will check in on you, but you decide it’s time to sleep anyway, it’s late, and drift off to the sound of the wind through trees. The wind sounds faintly like a roar.
In the morning you shower and begin to get changed when there’s a knock at your door.
“Regina will be rooming with you for the rest of the week, make sure she doesn’t try sneaking out.”
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mieluscious · 2 months
Text
beautiful liar. neuvillette
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ෆ pairings : neuvillette x female reader
ෆ genre : smut, fluff
ෆ word count : 4.5k
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ෆ warnings : mdni. judge!neuvillette, secretary!reader, teasing, fingering, biting, desk sex, semi public, unprotected sex, size kink, crying during sex, praise kink, soft sex (rough at the end), squirting, multiple orgasms, a lot of petnames, neuvi is a dragon but yk that hihi . . . ໑ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚
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you knocked 3 times on neuvillette's office door before hearing a "come in" from his deep voice. you slowly opened the door and the sound of your heels echoed on the tiled floor as you gracefully swayed your hips while walking to his wooden desk.
“monsieur neuvillette, what are you still doing here ?” neuvillette slowly lifted his gaze from the documents in his hand, his beautiful eyes gliding over the lovely curves of your body as you walked up to him. “everyone's in liyue to celebrate chinese new year, why didn't you accompany furina ?” you asked before placing a cup of coffee on his desk and your gaze fell into his.
“i don’t have time for that.” you crossed your arms over your chest and tilted your head to one side. you sighed as he turned his attention back to his work. 
neuvillette was a very serious and solitary man, he didn't like to mix himself with the fontainians and give them a chance to get close to him. he believes that close personal ties will lead to suspicions about the justness of one's judgments, while he must remain a symbol of absolute justice. what a cold and distinguished man, you smiled at the thought.
“i still think you should learn to have a little more fun. it could be good for you.” he brought his hot cup of coffee to his lips without taking his eyes off the lines of his precious documents. 
“who said i didn't know how to have fun ?” he asked and you startled slightly when his piercing eyes suddenly looked up into yours. “you ?” he blew on the hot coffee before taking a sip. "is there anything you know about me that i don't, miss y/n ?" he set the cup down on his desk and sank into his chair without breaking eye contact.
you couldn't tell whether neuvillette was annoyed with you or amused by the situation: his face was impassive, giving you no chance to guess his thoughts. you tried to pull yourself together and inhaled, not realizing that you'd stopped breathing for a brief moment, you couldn't lie to yourself neuvillette was a very intimidating man and he knew it. you tried to hide your discomfort and smiled at him, you tilted your head to the side, letting small strands of hair slip out of your bun, which didn't escape his sharp eyes.
“no sir that's not what i meant, i wouldn't dare.” an almost invisible smile played on his lips for half a second. "i just think you work really hard and deserve to rest as much as the other members of the seven sovereigns.” neuvillette's slender finger slipped down the arm of his chair, which he tapped slowly with the tip of his fingernail. you swallowed loudly as his eyes slid slowly over your body. 
his fingernail suddenly scratched the wood of his chair as his gaze fell on your chest. a button on your shirt was unbuttoned, revealing the beginnings of your breasts. neuvillette was a stickler for the rules, and even more so for the court dress code. 
"and you, miss, why are you still here, don't you want to have fun either ?" his question took you by surprise, your teeth caught your lower lip. “come closer.” his voice was even deeper than before, and you couldn't help the delicious sensation running through your body to reach between your legs. 
you stepped forward until the fabric of your long skirt touched his desk. neuvillette crossed his legs without taking his eyes off you, he could feel your stress for miles.
“are you gonna answer me ?” you raised your gaze to meet his, not realizing that your head was down on your heels, too deep in thought. why were you so stressed like a teenager who was about to get reprimanded ? you pinched the side of your thigh, trying to wake yourself up. 
“it was too late for me to catch the last boat.”  you cleared your throat “and my little sister needed me tonight anyway.” you clenched your fists nervously as neuvillette stroked his chin with his fingertips, analyzing your every facial expression. “so it’s fine for me, i’ll go tomorrow.” you jerked back when he suddenly got up from his chair and walked around his desk, warm chills ran through your body as you felt him close to you.
“look at me, please.” you lifted your face towards him and blushed as you saw him closer than you thought, his tall stature towering over you. you took a step back as he took one towards you, making you catch yourself up to his wooden desk. his heeled boot came between yours and the little voice in your head couldn't help but scream. 
“monsieur-” neuvillette caught a lock of your hair which he pinched between his slender fingers.
“you're really a beautiful woman.” your gaze immediately went back to his, and his attention escaped you for a second when he noticed the loose button on your shirt again. the fingers of his other hand ran up the side of your arm before grazing the collar of your shirt with the tips of his fingernails. your grip on the desk tightened as his darkened eyes met yours. “and such a beautiful liar.” 
it all happened very quickly when neuvillette lifted you onto his desk with one hand under your thigh. losing your balance, you caught yourself on his torso, your fingers gripping his jacket. you remained petrified, your face was against his chest for a brief moment as you felt the tip of his finger pressed against the skin of your neck and up to the underside of your chin, which he lifted towards him. you gasped as you felt his sharp fingernail dig slightly into your lower lip as your gaze locked with his. 
“does a pretty mouth like yours intend to keep lying to me ?” his other fingers grasped your jaw, delicately bringing your face to his. “should i remind you what punishment i give to liars ?” you mewled prettily as you felt his warm breath on your greedy lips. he pressed a bit more on your lip, making you open your mouth under his burning eyes. “answer me, pretty woman.” 
your fingers tightened on his jacket, the way he addressed you was always distant and feeling him so close almost made you lose your mind. you felt your body getting hotter with every second you were with him. you had been working alongside neuvillette for years and had always felt this attraction for him. he was probably the most beautiful man you had ever seen in your life. the way he spoke and the elegance of his attitude could only make you blush every time you laid eyes on him, but what you'd forgotten was that neuvillette was a very observant man, and he knew everything you've been trying to hide from the start. in one glance he could read you like an open book. 
“i’m sorry.” his forehead brushed yours as you stared at him, hypnotized.
“sorry for what, my dear.” his pointed ears twitched softly at the cute little whimper that escaped from between your lips at the way he called you. 
“i'm sorry, i lied to you.” his fingers tightened firmly on your collar at the sight of your pretty eyes getting glassy, you were such a beautiful creature. you leaned your head back, moaning right under his lips as you felt your clit throbbing between your legs. he was so beautiful, you wanted him inside you, you wanted to feel his skin against yours, you wanted more of his warm breath against your pretty lips. neuvillette bit his tongue inside his mouth at the sight of you in such need. he could read every single emotion on your face and it was a very dangerous game for him.
“what else.” it didn't sound like a question, but more like an order. you spread your thighs and leaned a little more against his muscular chest pressing your pussy against the wood under your ass. desperate to bring pressure to your clit. neuvillette soon noticed what you were trying to do and his hand went to the back of your neck, gently pulling a few strands of your hair still trapped in your messy bun. 
he didn't want to hurt you, he wanted to keep you under control.
you smiled and bit your lower lip, taunting him with your hypnotic eyes when a whimper escaped from between your erotic lips as your hips twitched, finally feeling the delicious pressure you needed on your clit. neuvillette snapped and wasted no time in laying you down on his desk, him between your thighs as your skirt was pulled up to your hips. you arched your back slightly under his dark eyes and reached down for the fabric of your skirt, which you pulled up a little further, revealing your black lace panties to him.
“and i'm sorry for wanting you.” he placed his hands on either side of your head as his gaze darted over every inch of your angelic features. “i'm sorry to have thought of you between my legs more than once.” his pelvis suddenly pressed against yours, making you moan under his burning gaze, you grabbed his jacket again and slowly unbuttoned it. “i’m sorry for being so wet every time you look at me with those pretty eyes of yours.” you whispered as something hard pressed against your pussy and a muffled sound was heard in the back of your throat, you needed him so badly you could feel yourself sweating under your clothes because of the heat emanating from your body.
neuvillette was close to losing his cool, seeing you almost trembling with desire underneath him was driving him crazy as time went by. he could see your buds sticking against the fabric of your shirt making your breasts even more delicious than they already were. he thrust his hips against your pussy again just for the pleasure of watching them jiggle under his lustful eyes. you mewled as you wrapped your legs around his hips, wanting to feel more of his hard length against your wet cunt. 
neuvillette straightened up and removed his jacket, which he threw behind him, leaving himself in a white victorian shirt with a collar plunging over his muscular chest. he remained silent as he watched your arm rise slowly to your head, your delicate fingers untied your hair which spread out on his desk, giving off a scent of vanilla and jasmine. neuvillette gritted his teeth as he felt them grow, how such a delicious creature like you could exist.  
you gasped as he suddenly grabbed your panties and ripped them off, bringing them to his nose, sniffing the scent as if his life depended on it. with his other hand, he pressed his thumb against your clit, making you cry out. he was having so much trouble controlling himself and seeing you so pretty under his caresses didn't help at all. your breasts jiggled every time his thumb ran around your swollen bud and his pointed ears twitched as he saw your wetness dripping down his pants.
“n-neuvi..ah!” a real smile spread on his lips for the first time and your heart skipped a beat at the sight of it. he slipped your panties into his pants and grabbed your hip firmly.
“what a cute little name you are giving me, my dear.” his thumb slipped between your folds and you arched your back as you felt him slowly caress your entrance, teasing you. “should i show you how i like to have fun ?” your cheeks suddenly burned at the sound of his voice, he was playful and wanted to feel you melt between his delicate fingers. he lowered himself to your ear and blew on it as his thumb made its way between your spongy walls, making you cry out as you turned your face towards his, looking deep into his eyes who fell on your mouth, which opened wide, giving him a perfect view of your wet tempting tongue. “hum ? my precious doll.” you caught your lower lip between your teeth, and none of your gestures escaped neuvillette's calculating gaze.
“did i upset you ?” his other hand came up to your face, tucking delicately a lock of your hair behind your ear. his nose brushed yours and you felt so small under his charming eyes. 
“no, darling. you've piqued my curiosity.” his thumb moved up to your clit, while two of his other fingers found their way back between your tight wet walls. a jolt of electricity ran through your body as you felt the tips of his slender fingers caress your sensitive spot. 
a smile spread on his lips as he noticed you open your mouth wide to let out a soft moan. your face was so red and the slow, delicious movements of his fingers inside you made you almost see the stars, even though he'd only just started to play with you.
“i’ve got the impression you still have some apologies to give me, you haven't told me everything.” he hummed playfully as you clung to his shirt with both hands, trying almost desperately to find support as you were taking each of his deep thrusts into your cunt. with his other hand, he delicately pushed aside a few strands of your hair that had fallen over your face from rocking back and forth on his desk. “tell me, angel.” his thumb slipped over your lower lip, which you caught between your teeth as you threw your head back, groaning as you felt the pace of his fingers getting faster, hitting your sweet spot perfectly. 
“i’m…sorry for-ah!-” you arched your back, pressing your breasts against his chest as he slipped his thumb into the corner of your mouth, whispering a soft "open wider" against your lips. 
neuvillette kept biting his tongue, trying to stop his canines from growing as you begged him with your pretty eyes, which became filled with tiny tears, shining like diamonds, as you were close to breaking under his caresses.
“i-i’m sorry for touching myself on your desk when you..-” you squealed as his gaze darkened at your words, his thumb dropped from between your lips as it slid along your jaw, stroking it gently.
“when i what, precious ?” 
“...ahh...when you were busy with-…trials.” he hummed softly against your lips and it made your heart race faster. he was so close to your face that you couldn't help but want to have a taste of his lips, which seemed so luscious in your desirous eyes.
“you’re so honest, i’m proud of you.” his warm breath brushed your lips in a soft whisper and you suddenly cried out when you felt his fingers arch inside you, stimulating the spot just above your spongy wall.
your legs tightened around his waist as you rocked your hips against his, greedy for more. his thumb pressed hard against your clit and a tear rolled down your flushed cheek. it was too good and the way he knew how to push all the buttons to make you feel this way made him even more attractive.
“behave, sweetheart. we have time, take it slow.” you nodded, whispering an apology between moans. you were almost sobbing underneath him as he remained calm despite his difficulties, you thought it was unfair and your urge to push him over the edge was growing stronger and stronger.
“please..” you bit down on your pouty lips, trying your best not to cum, when his cold eyes fell back into yours after he'd finished analyzing every feature of your pretty face. you wrapped your arms around his neck as your hands slipped into his long white hair, its scent invaded your nostrils and a sigh of relief escaped from your lips. one of your hands slipped over his jaw and you brought your lips close to his, neuvillette groaned deeply as he felt your lips almost touch. “i need more..” you whispered to him as if what you were saying was a secret, and the little sparkle in your eyes was the last straw for his canines, which had grown completely out of control. 
he arched his back prettily as he felt the fingers still in his hair sliding along his long locks until you pulled on them slightly, making him part his lips. you lifted his face a little more, making him look down at you as you smiled tenderly.
“don’t you think i deserve more ?” he opened his mouth wider and you gasped as his sharp canines revealed themselves. he chuckled deeply as he felt your wet walls tighten around his fingers, which were now fucking you harder, making you cry out under his sudden violent thrusts. he arched his back even more and pressed his pelvis against yours at each thrust of his fingers inside your dripping cunt, dry humping himself.
“with a face like yours, i think you deserve the world.” your juices were flowing through his fingers and you threw your head back screaming as his palm pressed against your clit, blurring your vision. you were so close and neuvillette knew it. “and i'm willing to give it to you.” you wrapped your arms tighter around his neck, moaning louder at his words. his hair fell loose, letting his pretty locks slide against you and around his face, all you could see was him and how gorgeous he was. 
“you’re..so beautiful neuvillette.” you noticed a pretty rosy hue coloring his cheeks and a soft smile played on your lips between gasps. you did your best to keep your eyes open as you felt your orgasm rising, your eyelids heavy with the pleasure he was making you feel so perfectly. neuvillette placed his hand above your head on the desk, which rocked back and forth under the delicious torture he was inflicting on you. you arched your back when you felt the strands of his hair tickle your neck as he licked his way from your collarbones to your chin. “i-i’m gonna-..” he nibbled the skin of your jaw.
“cum ? not now, my darling.” he whispered against your soft skin. and you mewled when he let his long dragon tongue run to your lips and licked them with a single stroke. his palm withdrew from your clit and you sobbed at the loss. 
he caught his thumb in his pants, which he pulled down to get his cock out, without slowing the pace of his fingers fucking your pussy walls. you suddenly startled, shaking your hips in excitement as you felt the tip of his cock slap your clit. your hands slipped over his jaw, which you grabbed to raise his face to yours, begging him with your glassy eyes to not tease you anymore. neuvillette pushed his hips towards yours, sliding his long shaft against your clit, taking care to appreciate each desperate expression on your face. one of his canines dug itself in his lower lip, making him bleed. 
you were his forbidden fruit.
his arm, which was above your head, wrapped at the speed of light around your waist, arching your back like no other, while his fingers slipped out of your wet pussy, letting a large quantity of your juices run onto the desk and against him. he didn't even give you time to get ready as he slowly inserted himself inside you, savoring every sensation of your spongy walls taking him in with tenderness. 
he threw his head back, grunting loudly as he felt you tighten hard around him as you came, screaming and unable to hold back anymore, he was just so freaking huge and feeling every centimeter of him entering you was too much pleasure to keep inside you. you were whining and apologizing for cuming without his permission when neuvillette finally became a part of you, inserting himself fully inside until his tip reached your g-spot, you felt so full. he was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling faster as he began to thrust slowly but deeply into you, fucking you through your orgasm. he straightened up to pull his shirt over his head and your vision blurred with tears as you felt him hit your sensitive spot with each of his thrusts.
“aren’t you a pretty creature, hm ?” his voice was like a melody in your ears. “look at you, already cuming when you are just starting to take it so pretty.” soft apologies escaped your sweet mouth again and he smiled tenderly at you. “don’t apologize darling, it’s fine. i’ll never get mad at you for feeling good.” his hand slid over your belly and you blushed even more when your eyes landed on his muscular stomach, which contracted every time he plunged himself deeper into you. you let out a cracked moan as you felt the overstimulation getting you.
“neuvi-ah ! …sensitive-” you placed both hands flat on his stomach, trying to slow him down a little and he grunted deeply as he noticed your juicy breasts pressed between your arms making them even bigger than they already were. 
“tell me you did that on purpose.” he grunted, grabbing your thigh to pull you even closer to him, sinking himself deeper into you. you threw your head back and whimpered mouth wide opened as you felt the tip of his cock repeatedly banging against your cervix. at this point it's like he was trying to get you pregnant. "you dressed that way on purpose to drive me crazy." 
you mewled when you met his gaze again, his eyes shone with a sparkling light as his mouth was wide open to let out his gasps, his canines were large and stood proudly above your eyes. the desk creaked underneath you as he was pounding into you. the pornographic sound of heated flesh echoed upon the bathroom, and you closed your eyes in bliss savoring the warmth of his length as he was rocking inside you like he was mad at you. 
“y-yes..yes…yess-” he grinned as he felt your hands scratch the skin of his abs while you were a moaning mess underneath him. “i d-did it on… fuck. purpose-” a cry louder than the others escaped your throat when you heard him murmur "i knew it." and smiled even wider. his two hands grabbed the back of your knees, bringing them towards your shoulders. this position made you blush even more, you were completely open to him and neuvillette's eyes were riveted on your breasts still trapped between your arms. the fabric of your shirt slipped from your chest with each thrust he inflicted on you, finally revealing your rosy nipples to him.
“you definitely are more flexible than i thought.” he lowered his head to look at your pussy clenching as it gushed around is cock, coating his pants in your wetness. he threw back his head with a deep groan, you were taking him so well like a princess. 
your eyes fell on his wide, veiny throat and neuvillette grunted even louder as he felt you clench multiple times in a row around his cock. one of his hands left your knee to grab one of your breasts, you cried out as you felt his long nail scratch your bud. you threw your arms out to either side of yourself trying to hold on to something on the desk as he suddenly fucked you more roughly.
“look at me, darling. i need to see you.” his hair slid over your breasts as he brought his face close to yours, he rested his knee on the edge of the desk as you could see his hips rise and fall with almost inhuman speed in the mirror behind him, this man was indeed a dragon. 
neuvillette grabbed your throat as he noticed you weren't reacting, a squeal escaping you as you felt the gentle pressure on your adam's apple. your tear-filled eyes met his, dark with desire. he was panting loudly near your lips as he watched you carefully, savoring each of his intrusions between your soft walls. 
“will you dare to lie to me again next time ?” you shook your head and arched your back, moaning feverishly under his burning gaze as his cock slammed violently into your cervix. your eyes rolled back as the pleasure was too much for you. your mouth opened to scream as neuvillette pushed his thumb over your tongue, opening your mouth even wider. “are you gonna cum ? let’s do it together, my love.” 
you nodded and he straightened up, his hands sliding up your thighs as his hips slowed, letting the tip of his cock rub languorously against the spot just above your spongy wall. your hands immediately lifted you off the desk as you screamed his name, letting tears run down your cheeks to your collarbones, your face red as your nose dripped snot, completely fucked out. 
and you were about to cum so fucking hard when neuvillette suddenly pulled out his cock from your dripping walls, you suddenly saw red and punched his chest roughly as you grunted in frustration his face came up to yours and his fangs dug into your chin as he whispered to you to calm down.
“don’t be violent, beautiful flower.” he grabbed your hands and slammed you down hard on the desk as he pushed back inside you making you squirt all over him and on the floor, trembling violently beneath him. more tears rolled down your pretty cheeks as his cock were bullying your tight pussy through your orgasm and he couldn't stop himself from fucking you harder when he saw your desperate look, which made him cum inside you. he thrust hard one last time before grunting deeply into your neck as he spilled thick ropes of cum inside you painting your gummy walls.
after a few seconds, he was still inside you, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, still trying to catch your breath. his hand slipped down the small of your back and you felt his lips caress the soft skin of your neck before he straightened up, taking you with him. you wrapped your legs around his hips as you now sat on the desk.
“i can feel that something is bothering you.” he murmured, brushing a few strands of hair away from your pretty face.
“why didn’t you kiss me.” your nose brushed his as his gaze softened at your question.
“i’'ve reserved something special for the first kiss i want to give you.” his thumb caressed the skin of the small of your back and you tilted your head to the side, looking up at him, stars in your eyes.
“special ? it doesn't have to be special.” you chuckled, while neuvillette's face was deadly serious. he brought his face closer to you, his lips brushing yours dangerously as his deep gaze never left your glassy eyes.
“everything about you is so special, y/n.”
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© 𝙢𝙞𝙚𝙡𝙪𝙨𝙘𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 ! 𝙢𝙙𝙣𝙞 — 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘭, 𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘺 𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘱𝘭𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥 𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶. ☆⌒(>。<)
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metalhoops · 1 year
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The Five Times Eddie Wondered Who His Soulmate Was  and the One Time He Didn’t Have To
1. 
The worst thing about knowing your soulmate was in trouble was understanding there was nothing you could do about it. 
As a whole, Eddie thought the concept of soulmates was bullshit. He thought all that fate and destiny crap was a scam to sell the idea of monogamy or co-dependence. If people were too busy fretting over when they’d meet ‘their person’, they’d forget that actual shit was going on in the world. Who had the time to care about systemic oppression when they were busy trying to work out if the cute girl across the corridor was their one true love? 
That being said, sometimes Eddie got curious about who they were. Not many people found their soulmates. It wasn’t as obvious as you’d think. When they were in pain, you would feel it. Two people could live across the world from one another, feeling each scraped knee and broken wrist but never meet. Hell, you could live across the street from someone and unless you were there to watch them get hurt and feel the same old pang of shared pain, you’d never know. 
It wasn’t like Eddie had never felt his soulmate before that day. They’d twisted an ankle when Eddie was twelve and sprained a wrist when he was fourteen, but he’d felt no pain from them so strong as when he was sitting in detention during his junior year. 
He was counting down the minutes left until he could get out of the high school, hell hole when a sharp and sudden pain flooded his jaw. He gritted his teeth and cradled it with his palm, feeling as though the wind was knocked out of his body. Eddie knew what being punched in the face felt like, and that was it. Just when the ache started to fade, another thud of pain to his cheek made his vision swim. From there, Eddie held his breath, waiting for the pain to end. He rested his head on his desk and felt his heart in his throat as the blows kept coming. 
He missed Mrs Click telling him to go home, too busy gripping the desk for dear life, his fingernails digging into the poorly carved desk graffiti, slicing a line through ‘RB 4 TT.’ He was elated when the pain finally stopped. 
Eddie kept his head down the whole walk home, trying to tell himself soulmates were bullshit, and that he didn’t care about his, but his thoughts kept returning to visions of them. He hoped they were okay. 
Eddie never wanted to know who his soulmate was until that moment. They’d had a hell of a day and Eddie wanted to be there with them, tell them he knew what it was like. He wanted to hold their head in his lap and tell them everything was going to be okay, that if it were up to him, no one would hurt them like that again, but he couldn’t. For all he knew, they could be a hundred miles away. 
2.
The next time it happened, Eddie was at home alone in the trailer. Uncle Wayne was working a night shift, and he was watching a horror movie marathon on the T.V. It was shaping up to be a good night, with him curled up on the couch watching a schlocky creature feature when he felt all the air knocked out of his lungs. 
For a moment, he was worried something horrible was happening to him. When Jeff had appendicitis, he’d reported the same kind of pain. Eddie rolled up the hem of his shirt, watching a black-blue bruise bloom and fade in the span of a second. Sometimes, if the pain was great enough, you’d get what they called an ‘echo’ of the injury. It only lasted a moment, invisible ink fading on pale paper. 
The pain had been so strong that Eddie hadn’t been able to tell if it was theirs or his. From there, it got worse. He felt a sharp pang crash over his head, then another series of blows to the face. It was always the goddamn face.
When it was over, Eddie was left feeling lightheaded. The sensation faded quickly, but he knew his other half would be stuck with the ache for the rest of the night, if not longer. 
There was a lot of conjecture when it came to soulmates. It was hard to conduct scientific studies on something based entirely on sensation, and any research that had been done was less than ethical. All the same, for the rest of the night, Eddie curled his arms around himself, holding his body in the hopes his person could feel it, that he could give them some comfort. 
“I hope you’re okay,” he whispered, burrowing his face into the crook of his elbow. 
Back at school, Eddie floated through the halls feeling less than himself as thoughts of his person swirled. The school was abuzz with rumours of a fight between Billy Hargrove and the former king of Hawkins High, Steve Harrington. Eddie couldn’t care less about some pissing contest for the highest rung on the social ladder, as he still felt the echoed ache of his soulmate’s pain throughout the day. 
He ditched gym, opting to hide beneath the bleachers and smoke. To his surprise, he wasn’t the only one with the idea. When he arrived, he found the overthrown king sitting cross-legged, cradling his still-bruised jaw. Eddie wasn’t a fan of the jocks, but they were the biggest contributor to his wallet, so he tried to play civil with them. Plus, Eddie wasn’t one to kick someone when they were down, and boy was Steve down. He sat beside the man, examined his face, and thought for a fleeting second. Maybe he was the one, but that was crazy talk. The Freak and the King. In what world? 
“You look like you’ve had better days,” Eddie noted. 
“I’ve had worse,” Steve replied. Eddie had a pit in his stomach. 
The two lapsed into silence, hiding out until the bell sounded for the end of gym. Eddie gave the boy a half-hearted salute as he stood.
“Hey, Steve?” Eddie spoke before he left.
“You okay?”
Steve gave Eddie the ghost of a smile, all charm drowned out by Steve’s two black eyes. 
“I will be.” 
3.
Eddie had been worried about his soulmate before, but he’d never thought he’d lose them until the summer vacation after his failed attempt at senior year. He and the rest of Corroded Coffin had just finished their set at The Hideout. Eddie and the boys were carrying their instruments back to the van when the feeling hit. 
He fell to the asphalt. The whole scene sounded all the more dramatic as the hi-hat he’d been holding fell with him. He really wished his soulmate would learn to keep their head down and stay out of trouble because this was getting ridiculous. He got ready to hunker down and wait it out, having gotten morbidly used to their annual beatings. Only this time the pain didn’t stop. 
He was hit with wave after wave of agony. This time, it wasn’t just the face. He felt blows to his jaw, his stomach, and his side. He also felt a sharp spike of pain in his hand, as though someone was trying to peel his nails from his skin.
He could hear his friends around him, desperately trying to get something coherent out of Eddie, trying to work out if it was soulmate bullshit or if the guy was having an aneurysm. By the way he was acting, either seemed possible. When the pain subsided, Eddie felt foggy, like he was going through the worst goddamn high of his life. The neon signs of The Hideout and the street lamps danced before his eyes. Hundreds of little halos clouded his vision. He couldn’t think straight. 
He managed to prop himself up against the wheel of the van and pulled his knees to his chest. He knotted his hands in his long hair and tugged, trying to remind himself what his own pain felt like, though stopped when he realised he’d also be hurting them. That was the last thing they needed. 
“You okay?” He heard Gareth ask when the world came swimming back into focus. Eddie shook his head. Far from it.  
“Are they okay? Are they... alive?” Eddie hadn’t let himself entertain that idea until it was brought up. 
He felt the last flush of colour drain from his face. He could still feel them, but there was something wrong with the connection. Maybe he was dying. Eddie couldn’t help but think of his soulmate as ‘he’. He just knew. 
Eddie kept trying to tell himself he didn’t care about them, but the fact that he could die without Eddie ever having met him made his heart ache. People thought the reason you felt your person’s pain was to protect them, to know when something was wrong. Eddie had done a bang-up job at that. 
“For now, but it’s weird. I don’t... I don’t know how much longer-,” Eddie didn’t let himself finish. 
The rest of the band suddenly took on a sombre mood. Jeff and Grant finished packing up the van while Gareth offered to drive. The boys stayed at Eddie’s trailer for the rest of the night, holding their breaths and waiting for the other shoe to drop. 
Eventually, Eddie dropped off to sleep and when he awoke hours later, he was relieved to realise he hurt all over. He was still alive, still waiting for Eddie to find him and god did Eddie want to. 
His uncle came home at the crack of dawn and let out an elongated sigh of relief at seeing Eddie and his band of merry men curled up together on the living room carpet. Wayne greeted Eddie with a tight hug that still hurt like hell.
“I was worried something happened to you,” His uncle stated in his gravelled tone.
“Why would something have happened to me?” Eddie asked, perplexed. 
“The mall burnt down last night. I was worried you were close by.” 
Eddie shook his head and let his uncle hold him as his mind ticked away. He wondered if it was possible his soulmate was in Hawkins. Eddie wasn’t sure he believed in coincidence.   
4.
Eddie started seeing spots during his lunchtime speech. By the end of his rant, the room had started to tilt. He felt unsure on his feet as he clambered from the top of the jock table to scamper back to the hellfire group. He must look worse for wear because he noticed one of his new recruits watching him.
“Eddie, you good?” Dustin questioned, sounding further away than he should. The lights in the cafeteria were too bright and his head was killing him. 
He felt close to throwing up and wondered where the pain had come from before realising the familiar distance from the sensation. It wasn’t his pain. Eddie didn’t want Henderson to butt into his love life any more than he already did, so he gave the kid a tight-lipped smile that more closely resembled a grimace. This wasn’t the first time he’d felt this sensation from his soulmate, but they were growing more frequent.  
Again, sweetheart? Eddie thought, knowing it was the second migraine that week. 
“Migraine,” Eddie hissed through gritted teeth. He could feel his band members' eyes on him. They knew exactly who the ache belonged to. 
To Eddie’s surprise, Dustin passed him a cool glass of water and barked orders at Mike, getting the kid to remove the ugly Hawaiian over shirt, before throwing it over Eddie’s head, blocking out the light. It wasn’t Eddie’s pain, so it didn’t help but he could appreciate the sentiment. 
“Did they teach you first aid at science camp, Henderson?” Eddie guessed offhandedly. 
“Nah. Steve gets migraines all the time. Helps to know how to deal with them.”
Eddie would never understand how a kid like Dustin came to know Steve Harrington, let alone worship the ground the guy walked on. Usually, Dustin had such good taste.  
“Eddie’s soulmate gets them too,” Gareth spoke unhelpfully. 
Even without looking, Eddie knew he was shooting him a shit-eating grin, knowing the rest of the afternoon Henderson would ask him about his soulmate. Just because the kid found Suzie, he thought the whole world deserved to find their one true love. Instead, Dustin came out with the most bullshit statement Eddie had ever heard. 
“Maybe Steve’s your soulmate.” 
Yeah, right. On what planet would that happen? 
5.
With everything that had happened to Eddie in the past few days, he hadn’t had time to think about his soulmate. He’d watched Chrissy die before his eyes, learnt the existence of another dimension and was walking through said dimension after witnessing Steve Harrington take a bite out of a demon bat’s tail. It’d been a weird ass day.  
He wished he’d been like Robin and Nancy, able to jump in and rescue Steve on a whim, but as Steve disappeared beneath the black water of Lover’s Lake, he’d felt his throat close and his lungs ache for air. It wasn’t a good time for a panic attack. Nevertheless, he’d managed to get his ass in gear and follow the rest of the group down into Watergate. 
He’d dropped back to walk with Steve and found himself complimenting the man. Steve was nothing like he imagined. He was not only kind, but as Dustin had put it, a total badass. 
Once the adrenaline faded, Eddie found himself lifting the hem of his shirt, examining his side. He felt a dull throb of pain. It’d be his luck to bleed out without noticing, but he found there was nothing there. 
“You good?” Steve asked.
Eddie couldn’t help but let his gaze settle on Steve’s bleeding side. He held his breath. He thought about pushing his hand against Steve’s wound, hurting him more just to check, but Eddie couldn’t hurt Steve. Not now. Especially if he was who Eddie thought he might be. 
“Yeah, I’m fine. You okay?” Eddie asked, gesturing to Steve’s side. The boy nodded.
“I’m fine, just a scratch. Can hardly feel a thing.” 
If Steve was his soulmate, he was full of shit. If Steve was his soulmate when everything blew over, they had a few things to talk about.
+1
Something was very wrong. Vecna was going down in a blaze of flame when Steve’s body started to ache. He felt the familiar sting of interdimensional bat fangs digging into dermis flesh. Robin and Nancy were cheering, wrapping their arms around Steve, whooping, hollering and panting while Steve was busy feeling like he was being torn apart. 
He was pulling away from the girls and turning on his heels before he had the chance to explain, running from the Creel House to the trailer park as fast as his feet could carry him. There was only one person this pain could belong to. 
Steve had spent his whole life searching for his soulmate, desperate to know who they were, and he’d been under his nose the whole time. The fact that Steve’s soulmate was a boy hadn’t surprised him as much as it should. That’d been a crisis bubbling away in the background of his brain since he’d gone to his first swim meet. He’d seen a boy in tight swim trunks, with tan skin and felt the familiar heart-pounding, crush he’d experienced on pretty girls he’d passed in the school hallways. 
By the time he got to Eddie, he’d hardly been able to fight through the pain surging through their connection. Dustin was wailing, holding Eddie in the wake of a bat graveyard. He looked up in alarm at Steve’s figure, noticing his pale skin and sweat-slicked brow. 
“Harrington?” Eddie’s weak voice came from Dustin’s lap. 
Steve was busy removing his clothes, trying to stop the bleeding. Dustin didn’t need to show him where the man was hurt, he could feel it. 
“I really must have got some brownie points in the end,” Eddie murmured. 
Both boys hissed as Steve shoved his shirt into a wound at Eddie’s side. That was when Dustin appeared to catch on, his eyes swelling wide as they darted between the two boys. 
“What’re you talking about, Munson?” Steve asked, trying to keep the guy talking. 
“Must’ve got into heaven after all,” He hummed, his deep brown eyes gazing beyond Steve at the distant red sky. 
“Hey. No. None of that. You aren’t in heaven because you’re not dying,” Steve hissed, using what little strength he had left to lift Eddie’s body. 
“Gotta be in heaven, if you’re here,” Eddie spoke, giving Steve a lopsided grin. Steve felt Eddie’s pain beginning to fade and panicked, not ready to let things end before they’d even had the chance to begin. 
He hoisted Eddie up through the portal and waited to do the same with Dustin. It wasn��t long before the distant sound of sirens once more surrounded the Munson trailer and Steve found himself passing out from the pain as red-blue lights swallowed the world whole. 
Eddie woke in pain, his whole body humming with a familiar dull ache that was unarguably his. It took time for him to make sense of the scene. He was in the hospital. Steve was slumped over at the far edge of the room, sleeping in an uncomfortable plastic chair, his head thrown back and his mouth agape. Eddie’s eyes trailed to his bedside, where he met Dustin’s. 
“Holy shit, you’re awake,” the boy gasped, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. 
Eddie cringed as he felt a rush of pain swarm through his body. He must have gasped, because Steve sprung to life, waking with a start as his eyes trailed from Dustin to Eddie. Steve’s eyes were a storm of quiet conflict, punctuated by deep purple bruises. 
“Eddie,” Steve breathed, standing to hover beside the bed, unsure of what to do next. 
He was surprised Steve was there at all. He wouldn’t say the two were close. Though Steve had probably found some way of twisting Eddie getting hurt into some fault of his, ever the damn hero. 
“Thought I was a goner for a second there,” Eddie admitted, trying to shake some of the strange tension from the room.
“If Steve hadn’t gotten there in time, you would’ve been,” Dustin spoke. Eddie watched as the boy’s hands trembled. He leaned over, fighting through the pain to ruffle the kid’s hair. Steve’s shoulders hunched over, doubling into himself. 
“I’ll get the nurse. Your uncle left for his nightshift, but he should be back in a few,” Dustin muttered as he made a beeline for the exit. It seemed strange the boy was extracting himself from the scene.
Henderson called over his shoulder. “I told you so.” 
And just like that, Eddie knew. 
He looked up at Steve with wide-eyed alarm, only to find his look mirrored.
“How’d you know we were in trouble?” Eddie asked, though thought he knew the answer. 
“After we killed Vecna, I felt... I could feel you. I knew you were hurt,” Steve explained. 
“How’d you know it was me?” Eddie pushed.
“Thought it was too much of a coincidence that it felt like my soulmate was getting eaten alive by giant bats. I’d call it an educated guess.” 
Eddie gritted his teeth and nodded. Surely, as far as soulmates went, he hadn’t been what Steve imagined. 
“I’m sorry,” Steve said, surprising Eddie. 
“For what?”
“Not being the person you wanted me to be, I guess,” Steve spoke so candidly, it made pain and panic swell in his throat. How could Steve think Eddie was disappointed that he was his soulmate?
“I’m not disappointed, Stevie. Why would I be disappointed?” 
“You had to have known,” Steve reasoned. 
Eddie didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious, but it sounded like Steve had been overthinking every second of it. 
“You give me more credit than I deserve. I didn’t know it was you, sweetheart. Cross my heart,” Eddie admitted, surprised at how quickly the term of endearment he’d used for his soulmate slipped off his tongue when talking to Steve. 
He hadn’t worked out shit. He’d had hunches, as though his heart knew, but the logical part of his brain kept overriding it. In what world were he and Steve perfect for each other?
Eddie threw caution to the wind as he saw the genuine look of affection and excitement painting its way across Steve’s face. He looked hopeful. Eddie cringed, sitting up and trying to lean closer to Steve.
“Come here before I hurt the both of us,” Eddie grumbled.
Steve shuffled closer to Eddie’s bed, crouching down, so the two were at eye level. Eddie wanted to kiss the boy so damn bad, and Steve was sending him all the signs that he should, but there was something he had to do first. He took Steve’s face between his hands, running a thumb over the purple bruises beneath his eyes.
“No more playing hero, okay?” 
Steve nudged his face into the palm of Eddie’s hand and nodded, letting out a weak chuckle. 
“I think I can agree to that.” 
Eddie crushed their lips together and despite the pain, it felt like everything was right in the world. 
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vintagegeekculture · 3 months
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Star Trek's "Lost" Main Character
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Just when you think you know everything there is to know about the original Star Trek, you learn something new, like the fact someone you barely remember was going to be a series regular. Take the case of "Yeoman Smith," played by Andrea Dromm, a petty officer secretary in "Where No Man Has Gone Before." Everyone knows that Trek had a first pilot with a different cast. But the cast of the second pilot was analyzed more in terms of who wasn't there (Dr. McCoy and Uhura were added only when the show went to series and were not in the second pilot at all), than who was.
One character in particular is easy to overlook as she seemed like just another lowly and invisible crewman, Yeoman Smith. Surprisingly, Andrea Dromm was hired to be a main character on the show.
The NBC publicity materials made for the second pilot mentioned and discussed her as they would Kirk and Spock, and treated her as a series regular, which at the time, she was:
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“YEOMAN SMITH, who has drawn the important assignment of secretary to the Captain on her first mission in deep space, is easily the most popular member of Kirk’s staff. A capable secretary and efficient dispenser of instant coffee, she also provides a welcome change of scenery for eyes that have spent long hours scanning the vast reaches of space.”
Almost from the beginning though, it was not to be. Andrea Dromm caused trouble on set because, according to Herb Solow, Gene Roddenberry "hired Dromm so he could 'nail her.'" Trek was in enough trouble, as Roddenberry cast his mistress, Rachel Lee Hudec (aka Majel Barrett), which violated his Desilu "virtue clause." Lucille Ball, embarassed by her former husband Desi Arnaz's well known extramarital antics, insisted on virtue clauses in contracts for creatives.
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As for what happened and why Yeoman Smith never ended up being a regular, we have two different conflicting stories. Andrea Dromm said she had to choose between making Star Trek, or making a film, "The Russians are Coming," and she picked the movie over a less prestigious tv show. Star Trek producer Herb Solow tells a different story and remembers that "Yeoman Smith" was one of two main characters who were let go to keep costs down when the show went to series. The other main character fired? James Doohan as Scotty.
After being informed he was fired after the first pilot, Doohan called his agent, the physically intimidating and formidable Paul Wilkins, who convinced Roddenberry to return Doohan to the series. It is not known how this was accomplished (Herb Solow, who's memoirs are the basis of most of what we know about early Trek, was not present, only Roddenberry was), but Doohan had his job back within the day.
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As for what would have happened with Yeoman Smith if she had stayed as a main character....who knows? The character of Yeoman Rand, well known for her beehive hairdo, was a replacement for her character, so it's likely that Yeoman Smith as a main character would have filled similar roles in stories, probably beat for beat and note for note. All the same however, it's hard to ignore how much more quiet moxie, no-bullshit stares, and extrovert elan Andrea Dromm projected on screen than the more subdued Grace Lee Whitney. Dromm's character was underdeveloped, sure, but so was Scotty and Sulu at that point, and the characters they eventually became were built around their actors' strengths and warmth. It's not hard to imagine something similar might be done with Dromm, and her character might have gone on very different lines from her replacement.
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sweetiecutie · 6 months
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🖤Fuck or Die part 2🖤
Part 1
Pairing: slasher! König x fem! Reader
Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, mdni, smut, non con so rape, violence, obsession, drugging, face-slapping and nose bleeding, choking, kidnapping, mention of murder. If you feel triggered by any of these warnings - just scroll past!
A/n: this took me way longer than I expected but yay, I finally wrote the second part!!! Also absolutely not me incorporating a quote from the movie bc I think it’s impossibly hot🤭
Reading part 1 is recommended for understanding the plot
Your life will never be the same. That damned evening changed you, everything around you, splitting your life into before and after.
Your memories of next few days after the murder were a sheer blur of events and conversations - numerous interrogations with police officers and detectives, psychologists trying to soothe you out of your stupor still, your mother crying her eyes out at the sight of you right after police arrived at the place of Paul’s death. And, of course, nasty journalists trailing behind you, watching your every move, invading your personal space unapologetically.
Of course, you were quite a catch - the first and only one who ever survived a meeting with König. Everyone wanted to know what he looked like - any particular details, scars or tattoos, a fucking skin colour - anything you could remember would be of huge use, giving at least any clues to a dead unmoving case. But there was very little you could help with - König took great care of covering every centimetre of his skin in black clothing, his voice changed, he smelled of nothing but earth and sickening metal of your boyfriend’s blood. Bastard was even smart enough to not cum inside nor anywhere actually, so that police couldn’t get his DNA samples.
A few months had passed since that horrific attack and there were still no traces of König.
It was midday when your parents had to leave to attend your grandma’s birthday - your mother was reluctant, not wanting to leave you all alone. You were never alone actually - a few police cars always patrolled right outside of your house, not allowing even postmen to get too close to your family’s property. It took a lot of reassuring and encouragement from your side to get your mother off your back, convincing her that you’ll be just fine by yourself and that you want your parents to have some fun. She then gave up with a deep sight, promising to be back in only a few hour’s matter.
You heaved a heavy sigh, closing and locking the front door after waving your parents goodbye, heading to the kitchen to grab yourself a drink. A pile of dirty dishes stacked in a sink caught your eye, the sight of its ugly mess on otherwise clean and tidy kitchen caused an itch somewhere deep in your brain. Without second thought you rolled up your sleeves, pouring dish soap onto the sponge and foaming it up.
As you were halfway through the dishes loud trilling of your landline phone calling startled you, causing you to jump on your spot. Your head whipped around, looking into direction from which the sound came. Wiping your wet hands on the kitchen towel you grabbed the phone, tucking it in between your ear and shoulder after accepting the incoming call.
- Hello? - you said, coming back to the sink, swiping foamy sponge over another plate, cleaning it of any grease and leftover bits of food.
- Hello! Um, can I speak to Paul? - your movements halted abruptly. You stood there silently for a long while, muscles stiff and unmoving, eyes staring blankly at some invisible point in the space before you.
- Excuse me, are you still here? Do I have the wrong number? - the man on the other end of the line said, his voice sounding concerned. It seemed to bring you out of your stupor as you drew in a long breath, exhaling noisily.
- Um, can I ask you how you got this number? - you said, already sensing something weird about this whole situation. But cops were all around your place, there was nothing to be worried about, right?
- Paul gave it to me himself. Said to call here if I needed to reach out to him, - man explained. That was strange but not unexplainable - Paul often hang out at your house, you wouldn’t be surprised if he knew your home phone number better than his own. - So am I calling right?
- Oh, yeah, sorry it’s just… Paul’s dead, - you said, teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek, sweet metallic taste coating your buds, but you couldn’t care less, nibbling deeper into small wound, feeling of slight pain grounding you successfully.
- Oh god, what happened? I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. But who am I speaking to then? - the man said, his voice now sounding genuine and apologetic. Everyone around Y/n suddenly sounded genuinely and apologetic. She heaved another sigh, resuming her scrubbing on the plates.
- He was murdered. And I’m his girlfriend, - you said in a calm tone, free of any emotion or feeling. Paul’s death was pretty much the only thing you talked about with others - police, detectives, police again, his parents and friends, your parents and friends. It seemed like such a sensitive topic turned into a rough callous way too quickly. - Well, I was his girlfriend, - Y/n mumbled after a short pause, faint clatter of porcelain audible in the background.
- Sorry about your boyfriend, - man on the line said. There was a brief moment before he added: - all those muscles didn’t help much, did they?
You froze. Silence settled in, interrupted only by occasional electric noise humming through the speaker. You heard your own pulse humping rapidly in your ears, your breathing fast and shallow, all muscles in your body tensing in alarm, straightening your back. Your eyes shoot up, looking out of the window above the sink. There were a few trees growing shallowly - barely an orchard - separating your house from your neighbours. No one was there.
- What’s that, sweet girl? You can’t see me? - a voice taunted, erupting herds of goosebumps running down your spine. - What a shame, I can see you clear as day.
- Neighbourhood is packed full with cops, you sick son of a bitch. If you only fucking dare coming anywhere close to my ho-
- Now-now, Y/n, - slasher interrupted you unapologetically, his voice hard and cold, causing thin hairs on your arms to rise. - Control your fucking language when you speak to me.
Your eyes dropped down onto the sink, fluffy dish soap foam was sparkling, playing with all the rainbow colors under the sun rays pouring in through the window. You clasped the phone in your non dominant hand, your dominant one reaching out and grabbing a kitchen knife from the drying rack, handle still wet and a bit slippery in your grasp.
- My, my, a dangerous thing that you’re holding. Be careful and don’t cut yourself, dearie, - König taunted, making your teeth clench. All blood drained out of your face, making you as pale as paper. Your eyes were fixated upon your window, peering into the orchard, desperately trying to spot any movement.
- What are you planning on doing? Everyone will hear if I scream. And cops will get your ass into prison, right where it belongs, - you spat out, pushing off the counter; your eyes ran all around the kitchen, looking for your cell phone with detective’s number saved, trying to keep the current call going so it’ll be possible to track it down.
- Oh will they? Then you better not scream, silly, - König snorted, making your blood boil. You were frightened still, terrified even; but the remorse of what he did to you, to Paul, was fuelling into your spite, making you a tad bit braver.
Failing to find your phone you entered the living room, rummaging through cushions and blankets piled on the couch, failing to find the stupid thing.
- Looks like you lost something. What’s up sweetheart? - you threw soft cushion back on the couch violently, huffing in annoyance upon not finding what you were looking for. You straightened and turned around to head to your bedroom, stoping in the middle of your tracks, freezing to the spot.
In the doorway leading to the hall stood König - dressed in all black, with heavy leather boots and his huge dagger strapped firmly to his thigh with a sheath, white scream mask staring right back at you. One large hand was pressing the phone to his ear, the other one was holding up your cellphone - the exact one you were looking for.
- You looking for this? - he asked, his own voice reverberating on the line because of your proximity.
You threw the phone to the side clutching onto the knife tightly. You dashed to the kitchen - there was a back door you could slip through - and outside was filled with neighbours and cops. Just pathetic six or so meters. Just a bit…
A scream tearing through your throat was muffled by a huge hand clamping against your mouth, the other one squeezing your wrist so tightly that for a fleeting moment you thought your bones were snapped, causing your grip on the knife to loosen, it falling down on the floor with loud clatter. König kicked the knife away across the kitchen, folding your arm back which caused your back to arch in pain - it felt as if he wanted to tear your limb from the rest of your body.
- Where do you think you’re going, Y/n? - König growled next to your ear, picking you up effortlessly and dragging your kicking form back to the living room.
Hauling you onto the floor König hooked one meaty thigh over your squirming body, putting bigger part on his weight down onto you, momentarily halting all of your struggle. One huge hand took ahold of both your wrists, pinning them to the floor above your head with frightening ease, his other hand was clasping your mouth still. He crouched down, scream mask was mere fifteen centimetres afar from your face as he seethed:
- Now you shut the fuck up and listen closely to what I have to say, and no one will get hurt, you get that? - he said, waiting until you gave him any sing of agreement. But you offered none. - You get that?! - König growled impatiently, bumping your head against the hardwood floor, causing black spots dance in the corners of your eyes for a long minute. You gave a weak nod, feeling hot tears running down your temples, getting lost among your hair.
- I’ve been thinking about you. A lot, - König sighed, hand that was on your face squished your cheeks together painfully, making your lips pucker out. - About this gorgeous mouth and pretty lips…
König crouched down, barely leaving a few centimetres between your faces.
- A this tight little cunt of yours. Remember how you clenched around me? How good my cock was filling you up?
- What do you want from me? - you weeped quietly, voice barely audible, broken by faint sobs and hiccups.
- Very little, dove. Just be an obedient girl and do as you’re told and no one will get hurt, - König tutted, taking in the sight of your crying face. Gosh, he was a sick fuck - his cock was already getting painfully hard, straining against his pants.
Letting go of your face König reached behind his back, withdrawing something from the rear pocket of his jeans. Just as you opened your mouth to cry out for help he shoved that thing inside of your cavity, slapping a hand over your lips so you won’t spit it out. The thing momentarily dissolved on your tongue, leaving a bitter aftertaste; you tried to struggle against killer’s strong hold, thrashing violently, but it led you nowhere.
Suddenly you felt hot - as if you had a really bad fever. Your mind clouding up rapidly, thoughts muddling, muscles becoming weaker by the second. You huffed out in frustration; moving your limbs a few centimetres seemed like impossible labour. World was spinning around you, blurring sharp and distinguishable features of König’s mask into a white haze.
König let go of your face once again, his now free hand slid down your body, cupping your sex through numerous layers of clothing separating you two. Sudden pleasure surged through your weakened body upon the contact; a loud moan that rolled off your tongue startled you - and suddenly you realised just how aroused you felt.
- Jeez, that dude didn’t lie about this shit, - König laughed out excitedly, watching your eyes widen in terror. You could barely move by now, not speaking of trying to fight off a man twice your size. His size. In a blur of all events, words and pain you never came back to just how fucking huge he was. You never mentioned that in any of your interrogations. How fucking stupid, huh?
Killer let go of your wrists cautiously, watching you closely - you rose your hands, resting your palms on his chest and pushing with all the might you had left, but it wasn’t enough to even push a cat off the chair - so that was the limit of your strength in this state?
König barked out another laugh - he was going to have so much fun with you! His hand never stopped massaging your crotch, noting a small wet patch forming on your shorts - you were soaked through your panties and now soaking your shorts? Gosh, he better buy a few dozens of these aids. Psycho’s eyes shot up to your face upon hearing a sob - tears ran down your eyes like small diamonds, turning your eyelids a pretty shade of red. König shifted forth so that his mask was almost touching your nose:
- Oh baby, I’ll be much gentler with you this time, I promise, - König cooed, pressing cold plastic of his mask against your flushed wet cheek, as if giving you a comforting peck.
Slasher shifted a bit, changing his position from sitting on your thighs to being in between them, yanking you towards him by your knees. He did quick job of taking your shorts and underwear off in few fluid moves, impatiently discarding them somewhere to the side. König felt his heavy cock twitch inside his jeans at the sight of your puffy cunny, all shiny from slick that practically oozed out of your fluttering hole. He swallowed hard, saliva was practically pooling in his mouth, having to restrain himself from tearing his mask off and devouring your cunt, exposing his face too early. You whined out something unintelligible, still trying to pry his fingers off one of your knees.
Your skin felt hot even through thick fabric of his gloves, so when König took one off and plunged two of his thick fingers inside of your tight hole he was surprised at how hot it was inside of you - one of the drug’s effects, he guessed. You couldn’t help but mewl at the pleasant feeling, your brain barely functioning, controlling yourself was beyond hard.
- That’s it, sweetness. Lemme hear all the pretty sounds you make, - König encouraged, plunging his fingers in and out of you, increasing the pace. Rough thumb coming to circle your slicked clit, causing your whole body to jolt softly. Scent of your pooling arousal was strong and prominent, seeping even through König’s mask, making him throb in his pants.
He couldn’t wait any longer. König was dreaming about your pussy being spread around his cock since that first night, he needed to be inside or else he’ll lose the remnants of his mind. Slasher slipped his fingers out of you, quickly undoing his pants, sliding them down as much as knife holster on his thigh would allow. Your breathing increased as you tried to close your legs, man’s bulky form making it impossible for you to do so.
- No, no please.. not again, - you begged, tears rushing down your temples, your voice meek and barely audible, so König just ignored it.
Pulling his girthy cock out König pumped it a few times with gloved hand, aligning pink swollen tip with your leaking entrance. It one smooth movement he bottomed out half of his impressive length, your body - flushed and pliant - taking him inside without any resistance. Low groan rumbled through his broad chest; König’s head fell backwards, hands gripping soft fat of your thighs, leaving pale marks of his fingertips on your skin.
You hated every second of it. Hated how his hips collided with yours with every thrust, how you felt him throb and twitch inside of you; hated how his hands wandered up and down your sides, rubbing your waist and palming your tits. And you hated how fucking good it felt. Hated how your body, despite all your attempts to resist, to fight off the effects of the drug, gave into the pleasure.
- That’s it baby. Just take what I give you, - König breathed out, his words slurred with pleasure. - See? See how good it can feel when you shut the fuck up and do what I tell you to? Just be a obedient little girl and feel good, I’ll take care of everything else yeah?
It felt as if a ball of bile got stuck in your throat; your face scrunched up in disgust as much as your jelly muscles allowed it:
- Fuck you, - you barely managed to choke out, your tongue struggling to form right sounds.
For a few moments you were sure König didn’t hear you, given the lack of any reaction nor acknowledgement of your words. But the next thing you knew was searing pain in your left cheek, the impact of man’s wide palm with your face jolted your head to the side, sudden change of its position made you felt dizzy. Now world was spinning around you even more so, you felt something warm trickling down your cheek - blood from your nose, you figured. Killer’s fingers roughly gripped your chin, yanking it back so that you were facing him once again.
- You wanna say that again bitch? Come on, I fucking dare you, - he spat out, movements of his hips halting completely, leaving his cock buried deep inside of your rippling warmth.
Your head shifting so harshly once again made you nauseous; you could barely see anything, dark purple circles were dancing all around, changing their shapes and giving way to greens and yellows to flood your vision.
- That’s what I fucking thought, - König gritted out. His hand let go of your chin, coming lower to wrap strong fingers around your neck. His hips started working with even more vigour, forcing his dick in and out of your drugged cunt on the pace that was almost inhuman.
Firm clasp of maniac’s hand around your neck made it nearly impossible to breathe. Both your hands wrapped around his mighty wrist, too weak to actually get him off you. Your vision started to darken rapidly, white noise trilling in your ears, barely allowing any other sounds to filter through.
- From the very moment I laid my eyes on you I fucking owned you. And I own you right now, and forever will. This is my fucking cunt, and I’ll use it whenever I want to. And I need you to fucking. learn. it. - König growled out, emphasising each of his last words with hard deep thrusts of his hips against yours, his cock making your stomach bulge, surely bruising your cervix.
- Oh but I’ll train you. Mould you into my personal cocksleeve, ready to be used whenever I feel like it, - his pace was quickening, thick cotton of his denim pants muffled filthy sounds of his mighty hips snapping against your ass. The grip of strong fingers never eased; König shifted part of his weight onto his hands which were wrapped around your neck, white mask hovering right in front of your face - milky white of it was a harsh contrast to blackness pooling in the corners of your eyes.
With that your conscience started to slip away. You felt your body jolt with every ferocious thrust of man’s hips, his cock buried deep inside of you, bruising your insides with its persistent bullying. Acute lack of oxygen burnt your lungs, and you prayed to all gods that König held your neck a tad bit too long - just enough for you to not wake up the next time. And just before you slipped into heavy delirium, your mushed up brain picked up König’s growl, penetrating through thick noise humming in your ears:
- You’re mine. Forever and ever.
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Street was filled with all kinds of noise - sirens from police cars were going off triggering dogs from nearby houses, neighbours were crowding a bit afar, frowning and shaking their heads, everyone having their own theory of what happened. Loud cries of Y/n’s mother shook the air, putting everyone further on the edge. She is such a sweet girl, she’s never done anything bad! Oh god, why is this happening to her of all people?!
Some people were saying that the girl simply snapped, breaking under the pressure of events and finally fleeting the country without telling anyone to not give any clues about her whereabouts to the killer. Some said she just went out to unwind from being constantly watched by police and have some alone time - she’ll show up anytime soon. But everyone knew that it was one of murderer’s deeds - he did something to her. And everyone knew, deep down, that they’ll never see Y/n again - alive, at least.
A young lanky policemen, obviously green and not experienced in his job, was babbling out his report to the superior, all the other cops that were patrolling with him as well stood around silently, too scared to pipe in.
- Sir, I swear we were patrolling the area all this time, there was literally no one but the neighbours, but they were staying at their pro-
- Then you were not doing it well enough! - city commissioner barked out, his mighty vice silencing everyone around for a short moment. His face was red, fuming with rage; nostrils flaring with intensity of his heavy breathing, angry vein popped up on his temple, pulsating in tandem with his rapid heartbeat. His heavy gaze shifted between all the poor officers, their faces pale as chalk.
- You had one fucking job. ONE fucking job - to keep the girl in the sightline - and where is she now, huh? I’m asking you motherfuckers - where is Y/n?! - Mr. Lindner barked out, his heavy voice making everyone jolt. Younger officers stared down on their shoes blankly, not daring to meet eyes with their boss.
- You may consider yourselves lucky if you’ll still have your licences by the end of the week, - commissioner Lindner tsked, spitting onto the ground in remorse. Turning around, he headed to his police issued car, shouldering all those nosy ones who were brave enough to approach him in this state. Getting inside Mr. Lindner closed the door with a loud bang, starting the engine and pulling out of the driveway onto the main road.
Commissioner Lindner drove in full silence, blue eyes fixated on the road ahead; it was barely past midnight, but the darkness hung thick all around, being slit by two yellow rays of his car’s headlights. He gripped steering wheel tighter, one hand coming to comb back his grown out hair out of his eyes, a small smile played in the corners of his scarred lips.
Soon he’ll be home - maybe the effects of drugs will wear off by that time and he’ll watch Y/n wake up slowly, those pretty doe eyes of hers gazing up at him drowsily. He will cook her dinner - all of her favourites - and maybe even spoon feed her, if she’ll allow it. Then he’ll bathe her and tuck her in her new bed, locking up the door for the night and watching her sleep through the cameras.
Everything was going as smoothly as ever. No one has accidentally seen him dragging unconscious Y/n out of her house and hauling her into the backseat of his car. No signs of struggle or fight were found - kitchen sink was still half-filled with soapy water and dirty dishes, clean ones drying off on the countertop, a knife with all the fingerprints being drowned among other dirty utensils. Y/n’s parents approved that everything was on its original place - as if the girl just disappeared, dissolved into thin air.
No one suspected a thing. And, of course, no one suspected a respectable city commissioner Lindner with years upon years of experience, a veteran with impeccable reputation, a person no one could speak badly of.
This was the beginning of your new life, life in which everything revolved around König, causing you to cling onto him as if he was some kind of goddess. Life in which you no longer belonged to yourself, but to your abductor. Life in which you finally understood that you don’t need anyone or anything else because you had König, understood that König was your life itself <3
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Slasher! König Masterlist
A/n: I apologise for giving König a half assed name, but I thought it’d be really cool for the plot😌
Once again, feedback is highly appreciated! I’m making this a series so feel free to send in your suggestions for more slasher! König content<3
1K notes · View notes
theonotti · 4 months
Text
SILENT NIGHT | OS | t.n.
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Pairing: Theodore Nott x fem!reader!Riddle
Word Count: 4.5k
Summary: The ghost of Christmas Eve Past haunts Theo's present, but not because he needs to change. He needs a reminder of who to never become.
Warnings: Major Character Death (Not Theo or reader), Domestic Violence (Not with Theo or reader), Hurt/Comfort, angsty, fluffy,
Notes: I'm late, but heres a Christmas one shot for Theo :)
That Final Night | Mio
Christmas Eve: Then
“Teddy? To bed, my love.” 
Theo smiled from his hiding spot behind the curtains. In his eight year old mind, there’s no way she could see him. He was invisible. Behind the silky fabric, he ceased to exist. Beyond the darkness between the window and the curtain, Theo could hear the sounds of his mother’s heels tapping against the hardwood. She was close. He could see the outline of her silhouette from the other side of the thin curtain. 
“Father Christmas won’t leave any presents if he knows a certain boy is still awake and hiding!” Her honey soaked voice echoed out again. Before Theo even had the chance to process her words, the curtain was ripped away and he was in his mother’s arms. She spun herself around, making Theo fell as if he was flying through the air. His shrieks of laughter bounced off the thinly decorated walls before she slowed to a halt, smiling lovingly at the wavy haired boy.
“Come, love,” She whispered to him. “I have your tea ready.”
Setting him back down to his feet, Cassundra Nott smiled down at her son before leading him out of the sitting room and down the corridor to his bedroom. 
Theo didn’t like walking the halls of the mansion, despite his many years of living there. The energy in the air was always so grim, the walls bare and painted a dark grey colour. Theo was convinced that there were demons in the walls, due to the screams he could hear coming from them some nights. His mother assured him time and time again that they were only in his nightmares, but Theo was wise for his mere eight years. The nights he heard the screams being the same nights he would see his father go into the basement of the house as the young lad was ushered quickly to bed was not lost on Theo.
In fact, it only made him wonder if his father was summoning the demons, keeping them there as a way to ensure Theo stayed in line. 
There was only one person who brought any slither of warmth under the cold roof of Nott Manor, and it was the woman walking a few paces ahead of him. Her golden blonde curls trailed down her back, her delicate fingers tracing an invisible line into the wall as she led Theo to his bedroom. He looked at her with such incredible awe. Theo didn’t worship any sort of God, because no God could even come close to comparing to the wonder that was Cassundra Nott. If someone told him that she hung the stars and the moon every night, and that the sun only rose because she asked it to, he would’ve easily believed them. There were few people that Theo had in the world. His father’s care for him only extended as far as keeping the Nott legacy going. So that left Theo with three people: Mattheo, Draco, and his mother. But she topped the list. In every circumstance, she topped the list.
His mother opened the door to his bedroom, ushering him inside. The dark green of the walls made the room seem much darker than Theo would like. His father insisted on the colour scheme matching that of Slytherin house, as if it would somehow eliminate the already incredibly low chances of him ending up in another house come time for him to ship off to Hogwarts. His slot in the House of the Cunning and Ambitious was as guaranteed as the snow falling in the winter, or his father downing half a bottle of whiskey before dinner. Theo wished the walls were blue, though he learned the hard way to not let that thought be anything more than a thought.
A steaming mug of tea was sitting on the bedside table, waiting for him as his mother pulled the blankets out for him. Her smile was warm as he walked over to the bed, crawling under the covers and taking the warm mug between his hands. He knew it had Calming Draught in it, as he received this same dose in his tea every Christmas Eve, as well as the evening before his birthday. 
Cassundra sat on the edge of the bed as she watched Theo take a long sip from the mug. 
“Are you ready for Christmas, love?” She asked gently, raking her fingers through Theo’s hair. As he swallowed the tea, he nodded vigorously. 
“I hope Father Christmas got me the broom I asked for!” He exclaimed. “Mattheo let me try his new broom and it was so fast! I bet I could get to Scotland in under five minutes.”
His mother laughed softly before saying, “Under five minutes? That sounds rather fast.” 
Theo nodded enthusiastically.
“I could get to Hogwarts faster than the train! I won’t even need to take it! And then I could come visit you every single evening, so you can give me a kiss and a cuddle goodnight.” 
If Theo weren’t so young and oblivious, he would’ve noticed the flush that filled his mother’s cheeks, or the tender smile that pulled at the corners of her lips. Or even the sadness that filled her eyes over the idea of him leaving her. 
“Well, we have a few years yet before we have to worry about that,” She said delicately. “Maybe if you don’t get a broom this year, you’ll get one the Christmas before Hogwarts?” But all this response does is make Theo groan in displeasure.
“I don’t want to wait two years! I want a broom now!”
His mother smiled at his impatience, hooking her finger underneath his chin and forcing him to look up at her.
“I know you’re excited, lovely boy,” She said in a soft voice. “But I promise you, you’re going to have a good day tomorrow. I’ve made sure to let Father Christmas know how wonderful you’ve been this year.” She scrunched up her nose as she kissed the tip of his. “He doesn’t need to know of the times you were trouble.” She tilted her head as she looked down at him. “Surely he won’t disappoint.” 
Theo looked up at his mother. Of course she was right. She was right about everything. And he trusted her more than anyone else to make sure Father Christmas knew what he wanted more than anything for Christmas. 
Theo finished the last of his tea, making sure he got every last drop like he always did. When he set the mug down, he smiled up at the beautiful face of his mother, who was already smiling down at him. The potion’s effects were already starting to take hold, the running wheel of his mind slowing to a halt as his eyelids grew droopy. With one hand on the back of his head and the other on his shoulder, Cassundra laid Theo down against his pillow.
“Now,” She said, her voice more stern than normal. “What are we not going to do this year?”
Theo let out a tired sigh.
“I won’t sneak down before morning to see what gifts are left for me.”
His mother nodded once, definitively.
“We don’t need another episode with your father.” In his obliviousness from ignorance and the Calming Drought effects, Theo didn’t notice the disdain in her voice, or the fear that flooded her face. Though he did remember the events of the year prior, the screaming from his father at all hours of the morning, followed by Theo being banished to his room until midday. 
“I won’t sneak down again, mamma,” He said in a small voice, a yawn escaping him as his eyes began to droop shut. 
Cassundra tucked the blankets in before leaning down and pressing a kiss to Theo’s forehead. 
“Sleep well, il mio tesoro,” She said in a quiet whisper as the chestnut haired boy had already lost himself to his subconscious. With one last loving look, and a delicate trace down his cheek to ensure he was really sleeping, Cassundra Nott stood up from the bed and left the room, closing the door tightly behind her. 
Little did she know that this would be the last time she saw her son like this.
It was only a few hours later that Theo was awoken by none other than his bladder. He squinted his eyes in the dark as he jumped out of bed, all but running from the room as quickly as his still asleep legs could take him. It wasn’t until he was in the bathroom that he started to wake up. The clock in the hallway chimed three in the morning, meaning his mother was long asleep. His father had gone out to celebrate the holidays with a few other Death Eaters, and he made sure to tell Cassundra and Theo that it was unlikely he would be home before dinner the next day. 
Just one peak.
And then you’ll be back in bed.
No one will ever know.
The logic made sense to him, and before he knew it, his feet were carrying him out of the bathroom and down the hall. Walking right passed his bedroom, he went right to the stairs and slowly tiptoed down.
It wasn’t until he was halfway down the stairs that the voices registered.
“...wake Theodore, please keep your voice down.”
“How dare you police me in my own home!?”
The slur in his father’s voice was so prominent that he almost didn’t recognize him, though the yelling was a sound the young lad was deeply accustomed to. Theo sank down so he was sitting down on the edge of the step, his hands gripping the wooden poles of the bannister as he watched his mother cower. Standing behind the man of the house was a flash of long, platinum white hair with a cane that was used in this moment to stop him from swaying. Next to Lucius Malfoy was Fenrir Greyback, his arms bare despite the raging cold outside, and Antonin Dolohov, who had a flask to his mouth as he watched Nott Sr. in amusement. All of the men in the living room were inebriated beyond belief. 
Cassundra swallowed hard before she spoke again. The fear was so clear cut on her face that Theo wanted to rush to her and cup her cheeks, telling her all would be okay.
“I’m not policing you…” She said in a small voice. “I just think it’s Christmas Eve, and I’m setting up for Theodore, and-”
Her words were lost to the force of Nott Sr.’s hand wrapping around her throat and slamming her against the wall. Her head was unable to bounce forward, but it was evident by the deep grimace on her face how hard it was hit. The reverberation of his mother’s body denting the drywall caused Theo to fall backwards, almost falling down the stairs entirely. 
“Are you arguing with me?” Nott Sr.’s voice was so low that Theo almost couldn’t hear it. But he’d learn how to pick out that voice at a very young age. It was how he knew when to go sit quietly in his room with a book, remaining unseen and unheard. 
“No!” Cassundra was able to gasp out, her hands trying and failing to pry her husband’s calloused fingers from her throat. 
“That sounded like arguing to me, Nott,” Lucius piped in. “Can't let anyone think your wife wears the trousers in the household, can you?”
Theo was not a violent child, but the sound of his best friend’s father egging on the abuse of his mother was filling the eight year old’s chest with a level of anger he had never felt before. He wanted to scream. He wanted to punch. He wanted to hit and hit and hit Lucius until his big, ugly nose went flat. But the fear that his mother taught him to have of his father and the other Death Eaters pulled at his muscles, keeping him frozen on the stairs as he watched the scene unfold. 
Before Theo had a moment to breathe, a wand appeared in Nott Sr.’s free hand, the tip pressed into his wife’s jugular. Theo could feel the air being ripped out of his lungs as he watched the colour leave Cassundra’s cheeks. Her face was illuminated by the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree beside her. Theo’s face was pressed against the wood, so much so that his head was almost fully squeezing between the poles.
“You ungrateful bitch,” Nott Sr. sneered angrily. “Disrespecting me in front of my colleagues.”
“Are you planning to let that slide, Nott?” Fenrir chimed in with a laugh before taking a long swig from a bottle of firewhiskey. 
“Maybe I should have your voice?”
His wand didn’t even move, but a spark of light still shot out of the end, and suddenly, Cassundra’s mouth opened and closed, but no words, not even a stammer or faint whisper, came out. Hot tears spilled down Theo’s cheeks and onto his pyjama bottoms, but he didn’t notice as he watched in horror while his mother tried to speak but only air left her mouth. 
Please stop.
Please don’t.
I couldn’t handle never hearing her speak again.
Or hearing her sing to me.
Or hearing her say my name.
Theo’s hands gripped the poles so tightly that his knuckles turned a blazing shade of white. 
Nott Sr. threw his wife to the ground as Lucius, Fenrir and Antonin laughed in amusement, as if Nott Sr. had told a joke or done something funny. But none of this was funny. Not to Theo, who wanted to run over and protect his mother. Who wanted nothing more than to bring the same sort of pain to his father and friends that they were bringing to the most important person in his life. 
“A woman must remember her place,” Nott Sr. continued on, pacing slow circles around his wife while his fellow Death Eater’s watched in belligerent amusement. The slur in his voice would’ve added a sort of facetiousness to his words, but with the way he looked down at the blonde figure he had just thrown to the floor, it only made it more menacing.
“And how will you remind her?” Lucius asked, causing Theo’s father to turn and look at the blonde haired man with a smirk.
“I have a few ideas in mind.”
Cassundra attempted to scream with every fibre of her being, veins popping out of her neck and forehead while her skin turned a dark red, but no sound came out at all. Theo felt her pain as if he, too, had his voice taken from him, as if he had been slammed against the wall, as if he had been thrown to the floor. 
Nott Sr. turned back to his wife, the smirk fading quickly from his face and replaced with disdain. He raised his wand above his head.
Theo blacked out. 
The eight year old’s legged carried him at a speed he didn’t know he could move at, until he was throwing his arms around his mother, guarding her.
“Father, please,” He sobbed into her soft blonde curls as he addressed the presence towering over them. Cassundra wrapped her arms around Theo, noiselessly comforting him as her fingers raked through his hair, her eyes squeezed shut. The room went deadly silent for a brief moment.
“You will learn to speak when you’re bloody spoken to, boy,” Nott Sr. sneered, his voice low and filled with even more anger than before as he grabbed Theo by the back of his shirt and ripped him out of his mother’s arms, tossing him across the room so hard, he slid across the hardwood floor and into the wall. A shadow leered over him as Nott Sr. rounded on Theo, his wand at the ready.
“If you’re so desperate to be a man, then you can handle her punishment then, can’t you?”
The next few moments went by so quickly, yet also as if they were in slow motion.
Nott Sr. raised his hand above his head, the tip of his wand igniting into a bright red colour. 
A flash of blonde jumped onto his back, tackling the older man to the ground. 
Lucius and Antonin grab Cassundra off Nott Sr. and toss her to the floor once more.
And then, the flash of green.
He didn’t hear his father speak. Hell, he didn’t even see his father get up from the floor. But make no mistake, Theo didn’t miss the older man, with the wild chestnut hair that he did inherit and the menacing look that he did not, pointing his wand at his mother, sending the bright green spell directly into her chest. 
She was gone before the scream left Theo’s mouth. 
“No, no, no, no, no, no…”
Theo crawled across the floor, moving his mother’s head from the floor to his lap as he placed his hands on either cheek.
“Mum, please,” He begged, staring into her lifeless eyes as they remained open. “Mamma, wake up. PLEASE WAKE UP!”
“For Merlin’s sake…” His father mumbled before flicking his wand once more. Theo’s voice evaporated off his tongue, but his lips still moved as he soundlessly begged his mother to come back to him. His tears fell onto the bare skin of her shoulder, and he wondered if they would be enough to warm her back to life. When she didn’t stir, Theo broke down entirely, holding her head close to his chest and burying his face in her golden curls as he began to rock back and forth. 
“One of the house elves will clean it up,” Nott Sr. said to his friends, as if speaking about a
spilled dinner plate and not the dead body of his wife. “Come, gentlemen. The parlour is where my
reserve is, and I need another glass after that… unfortunate incident.”
And so Nott Sr. left the room, followed by Malfoy, Dolohov and Greyback, leaving his grieving son on the floor, where he stayed for hours until the house elves finally pried the body of Cassundra Nott out of his hands.
The hands that would never get to hug or touch his mother ever again. 
~
Christmas Eve: Now
The sound of a crash echoes throughout the kitchen, followed quickly with a loud groan. 
“Sorry, sorry…”
“I swear to Merlin, Malfoy, if you wake up my wife, I’ll throttle you.”
A slew of drunken laughter fills the kitchen as the three men clamber in through the back door. Draco respectfully picks up the trash can he knocked over under the watchful eye of Theo. Once it’s back in its proper position, Draco gestures towards it proudly, as if he had just done something profound.
“Happy, Nott?”
Theo bobs his head back and forth, pretending to mull this over.
“I’d be happier if you weren’t an idiot.”
Mattheo, who had just taken a large pull from the bottle of firewhiskey in his hand, spits it out all over the refrigerator.
“That’s like asking for snow in the middle of July.”
With a deep scowl on his face, Draco shoves Mattheo into the counter before sneering, “Fuck off, Riddle.” 
Mattheo, in his truest form, makes kissy faces at Malfoy, who then proceeds to throw a kitchen roll at his head. Before it can hit the floor, Theo catches it in midair. The other two look at him as if he had just juggled seven kitchen rolls, or caught Baby Jesus himself. 
“Alright, alright, let’s move to the parlour before the two of you destroy my kitchen.”
The walk from the kitchen to the parlour is one the three of them have taken on drunken nights like these hundreds of times, yet at this moment, the distance seems to have grown exponentially longer. Mattheo stumbles as he walks, a loud laugh escaping him as he anchors himself with the wall. Theo, in an effort to keep his friend quiet, smacks him upside the head. 
“What was that for?” The dark curly haired man shouts, not without an undercurrent of laughter in his tone. 
“For being a git,” Theo hisses. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”
It’s too late though.
Over the sound of Draco’s giggles, Theo can make out the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs.
“Theo?”
His heart stops at the sight of you on the landing, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as they jump between him and his friends. He smiles sheepishly at you. 
“Did we wake you, cara mia?”
You shake your head as you reach the bottom of the steps. He sucks in a large gulp of oxygen as he takes in the sight of you. Even in your pyjamas, he finds the sight of you simply breathtaking. The sleep stains on your face and the way your eyes droop makes his heart race as if he was just seeing you for the first time. With a slight sway in his step, his feet carry him towards your magnetic pull, his hands gently gripping your waist. 
“You can tell me if we woke you,” He says in a gentle voice, an undercurrent of guilt filling his tone. But you shake your head again as you bring your hands to the tops of his shoulders, running your fingers along the curves of his muscles to the dip of his neck. 
“I woke up a couple of minutes before I heard you come inside, I promise.”
He doesn’t believe you, but his blood shot eyes are so enraptured by the beauty that is your face that he doesn’t care. His hands move up to cradle your cheeks before he brings his face to yours, peppering your skin with kisses. Your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your temples, your eyelids. Every piece of you that he can reach gets a kiss. His fingertips tease weave into your hair as you place your hands on his clavicle, laughing as he kisses you.
From behind him, Mattheo and Draco both make fake retching noises. 
“I’ve never met a more disgusting couple,” Malfoy whines.
“Truly the worst to be around,” Riddle adds in agreement.
“Oh, piss off to the parlour, you two,” Theo barks as he pulls his mouth away from your face. He doesn’t turn to make sure they leave, trusting the sound of their fading footsteps down the hall. His thumbs stroke the skin of your cheeks delicately.
“Happy Christmas, my love,” He says before gently kissing your mouth. You hum contently as the kiss lasts a few more seconds. 
“Happy Christmas, Theo.”
The sight of you smiling up at him makes his stomach flip. He finds himself wondering how he got so lucky, finding you? From the moment you walked into his life that fateful day at Hogwarts, his life turned into a sort of dream that he didn’t want to wake up from. And it was made even better when you had married him. 
Even after all this time, he can’t get enough of you.
“Get some sleep,” He says gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll keep the boys quiet.”
“Please,” You say, your voice still husky from just having woken up. “And please tell Mattheo that if he throws up on the carpet again, it’ll be him cleaning it up, not the house elves.”
Theo lets out a hearty, full laugh. It’s something his life is filled with a lot of these days. With his friends and you by his side, sometimes it’s easy for him to forget that it wasn’t always like this. 
“I love you with my entire heart,” He slurs, gently kissing you again. “Please never forget that.”
You laugh softly again, the sound making Theo feel lightheaded. Or is it the alcohol? No, it’s definitely the sound of your laugh. 
“I love you too, Drunky,” You tease him. “Please make sure you come to bed. Don’t fall asleep in the parlour.” He nods, his eyes twinkling in amusement.
“Yes, cara mia.”
You give him one last kiss to the cheek before you turn and make your way back upstairs. Theo’s eyes watch you the entire way, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as you disappear into the hallway. It isn’t until he hears the creaky bedroom door close that he finally turns and starts walking towards the parlour to join his mates. 
As he walks down the hall, one of the pictures out of the corner of his eye stops him. Slowly, he turns, the amusement leaving his face as his eyes fall on that one painting.
His mother smiles down at him as she sits in a rocking chair. Behind her is a dark space where his father had been, up until a night of grief and alcohol caused Theo to direct a spell towards the fake personification, and subsequently led to the destruction of all paintings of his father in the house. Though he had the frame replaced, the damage remains.
His eyes trace the trail of golden curls that flow down her shoulders and upper torso. He can still remember how soft the strands felt when she’d kiss him goodnight and they’d brush along his cheek.
“Please tell me I’m not like him,” He begs her, his voice suddenly small. “Please tell me I’ve made you proud.”
She smiles tenderly down at him, his heart feeling ready to burst.
“Oh, il mio tesoro,” She says softly as his eyes flutter shut. “You're ten times the man he’d ever be. And I couldn’t be more proud of you if I tried.” 
Theo smiles widely, tears escaping through his shut eyelids.
Bliss.
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