#I somehow had to balance out the fact that he's thin and wiry

[thunderboltfire]

Whew, this one took a while, dude carries a whole arsenal on himself. Argo is one of the characters I've had a lot of difficulty with consistency, but I think I'm getting better at it.

[tomurasprincess]

Kinktober Day 24: Monster (The Asylum)

Day 24: Monster Title: The Asylum Pairing: Mothman Shigaraki x Reader Word Count: 3.1k Warnings: Noncon, monster mind control stuff, oviposition, cumflation, belly bulges, breeding, forced orgasms, some slight descriptions of gore and blood, yandere Note: The Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum is a real place, although parts of what I wrote is fake, mostly the part where they close down a second time in the fic. IRL, they’re still open and doing tours. Tagging @ichor-and-symbiosis​ and @kazooli​ as two of the OG Mothura writers 👀

Sequel: The Brood

Kinktober Masterlist

You’ve always loved urban exploring, going to old mental asylums and hospitals to look around and see the decay of places that used to be so bustling with people. You especially liked the places that had tragic pasts, the ones where horrific things occurred. It sounds morbid to anyone you talk to about your interests, but it was the truth. You’ve always believed in monsters and ghosts just out of sight of humanity, lurking in the dark corners of abandoned places.

That’s why you instantly planned a trip to the Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum the second you heard about it. It had been abandoned years ago due to extreme abuse of patients. A historical society had moved in later, renovating the place and making a history tour of it that also did ghost tours at night.

But even they ended up abandoning the place due to the fake ghost tours apparently starting to become real ghost tours. People began to see creatures out of the corner of their eyes, something they said was much larger than a human, with wings on its back and piercing red eyes.

It was initially dismissed as overactive imaginations, people who wanted to see ghosts so badly that they were seeing things that weren’t there. Or people who just wanted to start tall tales  for attention and were flat out making things up in order to scare the rest of the group.

But then the disappearances started to happen. It was almost always young women who got separated from the tour group, although a few times it was a boyfriend and girlfriend who got lost together. The tour guides scoured every inch of the asylum looking for the missing people, but they found no trace of them. At first it was dismissed as the people getting scared and running off without telling anybody.

Until one day, a regularly scheduled tour group stumbled across the bodies. Not the bodies of the missing girls, but their partners. They were viciously torn apart, with limbs scattered all over the room. Their blood covered the walls, the floor, even the ceiling of the room. The women were alive but traumatized, rocking back and forth in a corner of the room absolutely covered in blood, none of which was their own.

They told the same tales that the rest of the people did. They were captured by a monster, around 8-9 feet tall, with large moth-like wings and red eyes. The creature was surprisingly gentle to them, they said, at least until they saw that they were with someone. The creature had become enraged, tearing their partner to pieces as they watched. They knew for certain that they would be next, their eyes squeezed tight as they waited for their death.

But the creature did nothing, simply turning away and leaving the room like they were not what the creature wanted.

Although everyone agreed that something horrible had happened to the young women, none of them believed their story. They had stayed in that room for several days, covered in the blood of their loved ones, not knowing if they were ever going to make it out. Of course they were traumatized, thinking they saw monsters. But monsters aren’t believed to exist, and so everyone began to look for a human murderer that was never found.

The asylum tried to recover from the tragedy, but it was never able to. The amount of bad press they got for having lax safety standards and not taking care of their tour groups caused everybody to stay away. Finally, having no other choice in the matter, the asylum had closed.

When you heard this story, you were over the moon excited. Not just a historical landmark, but also a place with a possible real life monster sighting. Nothing was going to stop you from going there and seeing the place for yourself.

And now here you stand, in front of the building with a backpack full of supplies slung over your shoulder. You had your phone, flashlights with spare batteries, a spare change of clothes, matches and lighters, even a rope and various other tools should something happen inside of the building.

And so, with a deep excitement bubbling up in your stomach, you find your way through a hole in the fence and walk through the front door. The first thing you see is the reception desk with various odds and ends left over from the closure. There are even still brochures describing the various types of tours and listing prices.

You walk down the first corridor you see, going past various closed off rooms that look to be basic examination rooms. There is surprisingly little decay, mostly everything still looking rather clean and intact besides a thick layer of dust and cobwebs covering everything. You’re a bit discouraged but decide to continue on to see if things get more interesting.

After all, the murders occured in the basement, and you’re not anywhere close to that yet.

Soon you find yourself in the medical ward where the patients were kept, and you instantly realize one of the reasons this hospital was so nightmarish. The rooms are even smaller than jail cells, leaving barely enough space for patients to lay down in. There are so many rooms of that exact size that you wonder how the staff could accurately take care of the amount of patients there had to be. But you remember your research, remember the fact that they couldn’t.

That was why so many brutal procedures were performed such as lobotomies, in order to keep the peace at the asylum and make things easier for the doctors and nurses. You give a quick shudder and begin to move on, feeling a strange sensation that you desperately want to get away from.

The decay gets worse and worse the closer you get to the basement, rust and decay beginning to cover every surface you see. You walk past some of the surgery rooms and feel horror at the utensils and instruments you see in them. The historical society tried to keep things as accurate as possible, and as such, they had kept most of the equipment that you would see back in those days.

You’re beginning to wonder if this is a good idea, as that strange sensation continues to worsen and worsen. You realize with a start what this feeling actually is.

It feels like someone is watching your every movement. You whirl around, shining your flashlight in every direction as you try to see what’s watching you. But there’s nothing but darkness and the decaying walls of the hospital. You shake your head, laughing quietly at the fact that you’re spooked out by a few weird shadows and an odd feeling.

You’re not going to let it stop you from your goal, however, and you continue forwards until you get to the doors of the basement. The feeling here is overwhelming, simultaneously telling you to run and move forward all at the same time. The conflicting emotions leave you off balance and light headed, and you reach your hand out instinctively when you sway on your feet. You touch a section of the wall and instantly pull your hand back.

The wall is warm, not cold like it should be. A sense of unease crawls up your spine, and you decide then and there that it’s time to go. Making it to the basement is not worth this, whatever it is you’re feeling. But then you hear a soft humming and the flapping of wings, coming from deep within the basement of the hospital.

Instead of being terrified, however, you feel entranced. It’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever heard, and it’s calling you. You open the basement door without even thinking about it, walking down the stairs in a dreamy haze. You don’t even pay attention to how heavy the rot here is, how the walls are entirely blackened by decay that spreads out like veins on a body.

You don’t pay attention when the door slams closed behind you, locking you in with whatever is calling you closer. All you can think about is getting to that beautiful sound, that lonely haunting call that seems to burrow deep into your brain. You walk as if you’re in a trance, turning corridors that you’ve never seen before but somehow know where they’re going.

Finally, you get to a door that is deep within the bowels of the basement, a bright red door that seems to beckon you inside. You push open the door with no hesitation, walking through and letting it close behind you.

And you finally come face to face with the creature. He is about 9 feet tall, towering over your small form. He’s not overly muscular, but he has a thin wiry look to him that says he is deceptively strong. His red eyes bore into you like they’re staring directly into your soul. On his back are two massive wings, spread to their full wing span and utterly gorgeous.

The creature makes a small chittering noise as he motions you towards him, and you follow like he’s a puppeteer holding your strings. He pulls you tightly into his body, burying his nose into your neck and taking a deep whiff of your skin. His hot breath on your sensitive skin pulls a shudder from you. and he tightens his grip as if he’s worried you’ll get away.

A long tongue pokes out of his mouth, licking at the pulse point that is frantically beating. “Mine,” he groans into your skin, sharp teeth grazing you. “Mate.” You’re lifted up off your feet before being laid down on the ground, hips in the air and face down on the floor. He rips your pants off easily, leaving your panties on as he lowers his head down. You feel a flash of embarrassment as he sniffs them like he sniffed your neck, groaning again as his tongue drags across the wet abric. “Fertile,” he whispers as he pulls your panties aside, “fertile mate.”

The haze parts from your mind long enough for you to feel a sharp flash of fear, and then his tongue is lapping at your folds and the fear is quickly chased away again. You dig your nails into the floor as you feel him work his tongue inside of you, using it to fuck you like a cock would. You gasp when he hits your cervix with his tongue and keeps going, wiggling against the barrier like he’s trying to break through it.

Something in his saliva causes your body to heat up and your muscles to loosen enough for him to batter his tongue harder against you and push through. Your scream echoes through the walls of the room, but not of pain. Instead, a fierce pleasure overtakes you as your cervix gives way to the creature’s tongue, allowing him to enter into your womb.

The feeling of this tongue wiggling around in your empty womb causes you to tip over the edge and cum around the creature’s tongue as he eagerly laps at your juices. He withdraws his tongue, causing you to let out a whine of disappointment, only to be surprised when you feel something prodding at your entrance. It doesn’t feel like a human cock at all, with ridges and bumps along the length and much thicker than a human cock would be.

You have a single moment to wonder how it will fit inside of you before it’s pushing in, stretching out your tight outer ring of muscles and causing a sharp burning in your lower stomach. You whine and try to pull away, only for the creature to let out a snarl as claws dig into your hips, causing your blood to drip down onto the pavement.

Even though there is no pain, only more pleasure, you learn your lesson and don’t try to move away as the thick cock slides even further into you. It’s so much thicker than anything you’ve ever taken before, and you’re shaking like a leaf when he finally bottoms out inside. You think he’ll start thrusting like a human male would, except that he doesn’t.

He keeps pushing, humping into you with sharp movements designed to force your cervix open even further. You squeal as the cock makes it past the barrier, burying deep inside of your womb. You glance down and let out a choked sob at the bulge in your stomach where the tip of the creature’s cock is.

“Pretty - pretty mate,” the creature says hesitantly, rolling his hips experimentally into you and drawing a groan from your throat. “Tomura,” he adds, and it takes you a second to realize that’s the creature’s name.

“Tomura,” you murmur, and the creature chitters happily at the sound of your voice saying the name. You try to think of something else to ask, maybe even to beg to be released as the haze seems to clear a bit, but Tomura begins to hum again, and you instantly smile in bliss as all of your concern fades away.

You feel something else pushing into your entrance, and it takes a long moment to realize what it is as you feel it slip up your stretched out tunnel.

Eggs. The creature is filling you with eggs. Instead of being horrified, however, you moan as they continue to move inside of you. There are multiple eggs at once, small and gooey, and they coat your insides with wetness as they make their way to your still stretched out cervix.

You feel them pass through the opening to plop down into your womb, and you cry out and cum hard, pussy wildly fluttering around Tomura’s cock. He lets out a deep grunt of pleasure as he rocks his hips against you, and you feel more eggs pushing into you. This time, a few of them get stuck against a spongy spot inside of you, and you scream out your orgasm, legs shaking and eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Fuck, oh god, shit, Tomura - “ you babble mindlessly as more eggs push into you, “it feels so good, why does it - “

Before those eggs can push fully in, there are already more entering you, and you feel so incredibly full. They drop down into your no longer empty womb, wringing another orgasm from your tired body. The skin of your stomach is stretching, making you look bloated, and Tomura still isn’t done.

You lose track of time completely, only aware of your body twitching and convulsing as more and more eggs push up into you, settling into your womb with the rest of them. Your stomach already looks 9 months pregnant, and you can barely hold yourself up.

Tomura sees this, and he gently picks you up and lays you down on your back. “Pretty mate,” he leans and kisses your forehead, “look so good with my children. Our children.”

“Oh god, no more, please no more, I’m so full Tomura,” you whimper as more eggs push into you. “Please, so full - “

Tomura hums softly at you, and you smile with bliss as the final eggs plop down into your womb.  His movements become more savage, thrusting hard into you as he grunts and groans. The force of his thrusts has you sliding up, breasts bouncing and your belly jiggling. The feeling of the eggs moving around inside of you has you howling out your orgasm, blackness dotting the edge of your vision as you almost lose consciousness.

Finally, Tomura is finished, and his cock begins to twitch inside of you as hot ropes of cum fill you up, shooting directly into your womb where the eggs reside. You sob as you watch your stomach bulge out even more as the creature’s cum fertilizes the eggs inside. You can no longer see the dents and valleys of the eggs along your stomach, and you reach down to gently run your hand over your bloated stomach.

You can feel the eggs through the barrier of skin, and it causes your eyes to roll back at the pleasure. Tomura gives a soft, happy chirp as he places his hand over yours on your belly, rubbing it gently. He pulls out slowly, causing a mixture of your cum and his to gush out of your now gaping pussy.

He reaches down to pick you up as he walks towards a door in the back of the room that you hadn’t noticed before. You’re shocked by what you see when you walk through. It’s an utterly untouched room, still looking brand new and with none of the decay that covers the rest of the basement. There is no bed, but there is a pile of clean blankets and pillows in the corner, piled up high and in a circle.

A nest, you realize. It’s a nest. For you. He tucks you in gently, chirping again as his clawed hand runs over your pregnant belly. “Mate,” he says happily, “my pretty little mate.” He stands up and walks towards the door, turning to you one last time as his gaze narrows and darkens just a bit.

“No running. Don’t want to have to tie mate down.” He continues to gaze at you, as if waiting for something.

“I won’t run,” you say quietly, and the dark look on his face is gone instantly as he beams at you.

“Good mate, good.” And with that, he’s gone.

With his absence, some of the haze lifts and you’re able to realize the horror of the situation you’re in. Nobody knows where you are, and you’re trapped. Even if you wanted to run, you don’t think you could with how large your belly is. No escape and no help coming for you, and the creature already seems so possessive of you that he’s not going to let you easily escape.

If only you had listened to your instincts earlier, if only you hadn’t been so fascinated with the grotesque, if only you had simply chosen to stay home.

You’ve always believed in monsters. You just never thought you would find one.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Kinktober: @thewheezingwyvern​, @vixen-scribbles​, @katsukisprincess​, @hisoknen​, @trafalgar-temptress​, @leeswritingworld, @burnedbyshoto​, @bakugotrashpanda​, @dee-madwriter​, @kittycatkrissa​, @reinawritesbnha​, @yanderart​, @dabilove27​, @anxietyplusultra​, @flutterfalla​, @angmarwitch​, @nereida19​, @babayaga67​, @fromsunnywithlove​, @dabis-kitten​, @bakugos-cumsock​, @yumeneji​, @the-grimm-writer​, @iwaizumi-chan​, @slashersheart​, @bunnyywritings​, @bakarinnie​, @angie-1306​, @lalalemon101​​, @videogameboiwhowins​​, @f4nficbaby​​, @tenkoshimmy​, @baroque-baby​​, @bbyspiiice​​, @thirstyforthem2dmen​​, @blissfulignorance2000​, @bluecookies02-main​

[loveforpreserumsteve]

Jump then Fall: “A Place to Fall” Sequel (Modern Stucky College AU)

Twelve:

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the kiss that he shared with Brock. Maybe it was finding Sharon being consensually groped by her crush. But if Steve was a betting man, he'd wager that it was finding the love of his life making out with someone that wasn't him.

Rushing out of the back door, Steve leaned over the deck railing as bile aggressively left his body. Panting, Steve attempted to spit the remaining taste out of his mouth. But the bitterness was still there, unfortunately. And the saltiness from the tears that streamed down his heated face wasn't helping matters either.

"Steve?" Bucky's familiar voice came from behind Steve.

Pushing himself away from the banister, Steve wiped his mouth on the purple sleeve of Kristin's sweater. More due to his clumsiness than his buzzed state, Steve stumbled over his own feet. Before he could fall though, Bucky was there to catch him.

"Let go," Steve demanded, pushing at Bucky.

"You're drunk," Bucky insisted, not budging one bit. No matter how much Steve weakly tried to get Bucky away from him. Bucky even had the audacity to tell Steve, "And you need your jacket."

"Oh my god," Steve rolled his eyes and pushed at Bucky's broad, stable frame. The bitterness wasn't just in his mouth though as Steve sneered, "Why do you even care?"

"Are you serious?" Bucky scoffed, keeping a secure grip on Steve's slender waist as to help Steve's balance.

With furrowed brows, Bucky studied Steve. It was clear just how hurt Bucky was by Steve's question. It was also clear that Bucky was determined in figuring out what Steve was actually thinking in that moment.

However, before Bucky could question Steve any further, Steve completely dissolved into a puddle of tears. And one would assume that Steve's blurred vision would make it easier to ignore the absolute despair that washed over Bucky's torturously handsome face. Instead, that seemed to be the only thing that Steve could focus on, causing more tears to spring up. Caused a rattling sob to break through Steve's frail frame.

Not being able to hold himself up any longer, Steve allowed his thin legs to give out beneath him. Completely ignoring his well-being while also being aware, and finding a bit of comfort in simply knowing that Bucky was there to catch him. Even if it was just in the context of making sure that Steve wouldn't get physically hurt, instead of the context of his heart.

Tightening his secure grip, Bucky graciously lowered them until they were sitting on the cold deck. Despite Steve's need to run and be as far away from Bucky in that moment as possible, Steve couldn't deny that being wrapped in Bucky's wiry, strong arms was comforting. In fact, Steve felt the sudden urge to allow Bucky hold him and comfort him.

So, Steve turned in Bucky's arms and buried his face in Bucky's broad chest. Momentarily Steve felt bad about staining Bucky's soft, pale pink sweater with his tears and snot. Not to mention how awful he felt considering he had just vomited.

All in all, it wasn't shaping up to be a good night for Steve. Of course, Steve hadn't really thought that it would be, but he still expected something better than this. Especially with how good his day had been before the party.

"Hey, it's okay," Bucky reassured, rubbing his large hand along Steve's naturally crooked spine in a comforting manner. Smoothing down Steve's messy, floppy blond hair, Bucky asked, "Wanna talk about it?"

"No-oh," Steve hiccupped between sobs, nuzzling closer while tightening his grasp on Bucky's torso.

"Okay," Bucky surrendered, just holding Steve and allowing Steve to hold him, which Steve greatly appreciated.

Yet, the longer that Bucky held Steve, the more Steve longed for more than what they were. More than what they had. Sure, their whatever hadn't lasted necessarily long, but Steve still found himself missing everything. Missing the cuddling. Missing the kisses. Really just missing Bucky.

With his mouth softly pressed to Steve's hair, Bucky questioned, "Should I get Brock?"

A new bout of tears started spilling from Steve's blue eyes, but he still somehow managed to find the strength to pull himself away. Wiping his wet face on the borrowed sweater's sleeve, Steve begged for his tears to cease. Sniffling, Steve assumed, "I'm sure that you want to get back to Sharon."

"That's not," Bucky paused, studying Steve's flushed face. The palpable sadness radiating from Bucky was too much for Steve, causing more tears to build in Steve's eyes. Before Bucky could continue, it was suddenly obvious just how loud the party was and Bucky briefly looked around at the craziness. Bucky pleaded, "Let's get outta here."

Instead of declining Bucky's offer the same way that he declined Brock's, Steve simply agreed. Desperately needing a bed. Whether it be his own or Bucky's, Steve didn’t care. All he knew was that he didn't want to be alone.

[dictacontrion]

Malfoy looked as if he was completely lost in what he was doing, his face practically blissed out, as if dancing was a transcendent experience for him. Harry no longer doubted his ability to cast a Patronus. Under the lights, Malfoy’s raven looked even more as though it were about to take flight, the snake a pathetic scrap beneath the broad sweep of its wings. The bass pounded and Harry just stared, lost in the perfect arch of Malfoy’s back, the sway of his hips. Why had Harry ever questioned his attraction to men? Malfoy looked like everything Harry had ever dreamed about. All of the stuff that Malfoy liked to wear – the nail varnish, the beads and thin shirts – somehow just drew attention to the fact that the wiry body underneath was distinctly masculine. And although the way Malfoy moved was graceful, there was nothing feminine about it. There was a rawness to his sensuality, an aggression underpinning everything that he did, and it left Harry dry-mouthed and breathless. Then someone who’d had several drinks too many staggered past Malfoy, knocking him off balance for a moment. He opened his eyes to find Harry watching – to find Harry completely captivated, in fact – and the smile that stole over Malfoy’s face was a slow-burning, breathtaking thing.

I Bet That You Look Good on the Dancefloor by birdsofshore

[alpaca-writes]

Mystics, Chapter 16

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by the strange shopkeeper Lyrem Nomadus, everything seems to be going well- in fact, their life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as perfect as it seems….

Read Chapters 1-15 and more HERE

Taglist: @myst-in-the-mirror, @livingforthewhump

CW: drowning, assault, walking on broken glass (yeah really), captivity whump,  one having total control over another

--------------------

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: FORWARD

        There was nothing below their feet. That was the first thing they had noticed as they thrashed violently about in the thick liquid. They inhaled something. Akin to sludgy water that smelled rank; old gasoline, grease, and sulphur mixed together with just enough cornstarch to cause Arch to tire out within moments of trying to keep themselves afloat. It must have been they very same that Benji had been coated in as they were brought back to the school yard. They scrambled up to the surface coughing and gagging on the disgusting ooze that threatened to drown them and drag them below forever. How they had gotten there, they didn’t know. Wasn’t Uncle Arty talking to them right before-

        HOLY SHIT.

        He was telling the truth.

        Uncle Arty was Uncle Arty!

        It shouldn’t have been so shocking, but in the euphoria of the revelation, Arch cried out their name, hoping they would be there to rescue them- then terrified that he had been taken underneath the tide, never to be seen or heard from again.

        They hadn’t opened their eyes. They were closed the moment the darkness had enveloped them, and somehow Arch knew that if they dared to open them now, the burn from the solution they were swimming in would be unbearable. So, they couldn’t find the shore, much less know if they were alone.

        Kicking, writhing, helplessly choking back the urge to breathe at the wrong times and exhausted, Arch spit up the last rancid bit of liquid that had sneaked its way between their lips and onto their tongue.

        They groaned, because what else was their to do when you were dropped into a pit full of whatever it was that Venom was made out of? At least, that is what Arch imagined it to be. They hadn’t opened their eyes- it may have been the colour of Pepto.

        The curled-up hairs that were only recently styled into the short updo, were pulled taut by a hand that seemed impatiently waiting for them to figure their own way out. Arch reached their hands up to the forearm of the person pulling them up. While it was uncomfortably painful, there was still a tentative breath of relief escaping from their lungs in form of a cough. Then, as they felt the world solid beneath their knees once again, the hand released.

        The clinking of glass, like broken glass, filled their ears the moment Arch could hear again. They leaned over the ground, palms down against it, and coughed up the remaining sludge as much as they could. It was arid, wherever they were, and there wasn’t a breeze to be felt in the dry heat. The romper weighed heavy on them, sinking them lower, little bit by little bit as it aired itself out. With a shaky hand, Arch attempted their best to wipe off the excess ooze from their eyes. They mostly just smeared it away to another portion of their face.

        “Depths of despair.”

        Paimon. Of course.

        “How do you like it?” he inquired innocently.

        Arch sniffed, hearing his voice without seeing his face.

        “Still better than Buckley’s,” Arch said, through a wave of dizzying nausea. They heard Paimon give out a light chuckle.

        “You are very funny,” he said lightly. “I can see why Lyrem chose you.”

        A sudden reminder that Uncle Arty was out for Lyrem’s blood caused Arch to falter with a crushing guilt.

        “Shit.”

        Paimon raised a brow, though Arch didn’t care to notice it by looking up.

        “He’ll be fine,” Paimon assured none to comfortingly. He then added. “Your little Uncle Arty will likely die by his hand anyway. In fact, I am sort of counting on it. He’s a rather annoying little pissant, isn’t he?”

        Paimon shuddered, thinking about his use of the Abysmal Flame that ushered from the earthly realm so unceremoniously. Hades would certainly pay for that eventually.

        There was the sound of broken glass again, and then Arch noticed it was because of how they had moved their feet in the effort to stand. The ground was coated in a black shining and sparkling material. They had taken a little bit of geology back in the day. Volcanic glass, is what they were willing to bet it was. They had kicked their heels off somewhere in the Depths of Despair. The first shard slid cleanly into their big toe on their left foot as they stood with great effort and seethed. Arch saw only an expansive wasteland. Paimon stood behind them, watching curiously.

        “Wh-where are we? Where did you take me?”

        Surprised by the questions, Paimon’s replied unhelpfully and condescending at best.

        “Guess for me.”

        The sky was a mixture of grey and orange. The air smelled of a raging forest fire, but there was no fire to be seen- not columns of smoke to indicate the direction it was coming from. Arch turned around, their eyes laying upon Paimon for the first time since arriving and they froze.

        He was different.

        Very different. No longer sporting the hat and coat or the cane, and what was more was that his head of black hair was nothing compared to the crown of opaque black antlers that seemed to be growing even now and morphing on their own as he tilted his head at them. His chest was nearly bare, with only a soft silk robe to cover the rest of himself with. He smiled, his teeth shone bright through the beard that was still long, black, and wiry.

        Arch blinked a couple times, trying to back away, but the glass prevented them from moving on too quickly. Their feet sprang up with bloody cuts already. They didn’t want to create any more.

        “Hell?” they answered hesitantly, “this is hell, isn’t it?”

        “Hell?” he mocked. “Hell only exists on earth, try again.”

        After a moment of thought, Arch guessed again.

        “The Labyrinth then? Is that why I can remember people? Uncle Arty? … My mom?”

        Paimon gave a sympathetic nod. Arch had never seen the inside of the Labyrinth before, so it was a reasonable assumption for them to make.

        “No,” he said sadistically, “Sweet thing, I gave you those memories back for a very good reason.”

        Arch threw up their hands at let them crash against their sides. Great, he gave them their memories back. How kind.

        “I don’t know then,” Arch started, making it clear for Paimon that they were becoming disgruntled. “Why don’t you enlighten me?”

        Paimon stepped forward and the clinking of glass was louder than expected. Arch looked down, expecting shoes, but seeing hooves instead.

        Wincing, they stepped back once. Fucking, hooves.

        “This is my home,” Paimon answered. “My… land.”

        He had a calming air about him. That was frightening, since Arch was no longer certain about what they should expect from their new… boss.

        The earth groaned and shook, knocking Arch off balance with a sudden jolt. They landed into the glassy ground, cutting up their arms in the process. The ground was changing before them, raising a tall mound with a gaping mouth of a cave entrance to welcome them in.

        Arch shuffled back- searing slices into their skin be damned, they were not going in willingly. They forced themselves to their feet, ripping their romper until a piece of thin chiffon trailed behind them, and grimaced and gasped as the ran off into the… into the… horizon?

        But they were suddenly running toward Paimon now.

        He was simply standing there at waiting for them to return with his knuckles on his hips. The world had turned, without Arch’s permission and left them outside the cave mouth again, beside the Depths of Despair, which did not look quite as murky as Arch remembered. They groaned, and lifted a bloody foot. With a quick breath, they pulled out a large jagged piece of volcanized glass carefully set it back down. The left foot had more thin slices. It would take several hours of careful plucking to remove all he pieces that had been lodged in there.

        Paimon approached them, amused by their futile attempt to escape and shook his head.

        “I forget that you humans are so easily torn. You could have simply asked me for a pair of shoes.”

        Without a moment more to lose, Arch felt Paimon grip them just above their elbow as he decided dragged them along to the mouth of the cave where the walls were lit with incandescent yellow bulbs draped along by chains.

        An unmistakable murmur echoed up to them. Suffering. Arch tugged away, despite knowing there was nothing they could do to prevent what ever was coming next.

        “I-I signed under duress!”

        Paimon looked down at Arch, then up to the ceiling in the effort to hold his tongue.

        “I signed under duress, so I can’t be beholden to the agreement.” Arch repeated like they almost believe they’d be let go on a technicality. “You threatened a friend and forced me to sign. It wasn’t of my own free will- free will matters, doesn’t”-

        The way down was riddled with bumps and rolling hills in the lava rock. Paimon pushed Arch ahead, making sure that they smacked into the wall before crumpling into a heap around the corner. He sniffed, and tightened his robe.

        “So, you do have an off button.”

        Reaching a hand up, Arch supported themself up against the wall, groaning. Thankfully, their left forearm took the worst of the hit, but was scraped even further than it had been before from the glass. It was a miracle they had any skin left there at all.

        “Forward.”

        They heard the command and immediately stood again. Arch continued down the cave hall until they heard the next one.

        “Stop.”

        They stopped.

        Paimon stepped around them, ignoring the echoing cries from elsewhere in his humble space, and chose to look at Arch more thoroughly. He lifted their arm, the torn up one, and stared at the marks briefly, and then tossed it down.

        “Shake your head.” He commanded.

        Arch shook their head, obeying without question- without the slightest hesitation and unfortunately as well, without any ability to refuse Paimon’s command.

        “Nod.”

        Arch nodded.

        “Stand on your right foot.”

        And they did.

        “Stop nodding.”

        And they stopped. Tears danced in their eyes as they realized what was happening. Paimon smiled as he was content with Ms. Bornath’s impeccable work.

        “Forward.”