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darlingdreadwrites · 4 months ago

Note

I read your Toby fics, and I really love your writing:D

I see your open with requests and I wanted to ask a Toby x final girl reader?

They just kept fighting against him, and he somehow gained a crush on the person he is supposed to kill? It's fine if you don't ;D

I WAS SO EXCITED TO WRITE THIS I SQUEALED WHEN I READ IT!! i hope i do right by you, my lovely anon.

pairing: Ticci Toby x Final Girl F!Reader

part: 1, 2

summary: Toby thought you'd be an easy target since you were just a girl. He should've gone with the easy kill when he had the chance.

contains: getting chased by a man wielding two hatchets, slight pov switches but it's still in second person, idk what else to put

warning: violence, gore (more like imagery is gore-y), MEAN TOBY, reader gets hurt, toby gets hurt, me not knowing how to write fight/tense scenes and the logistics that go with them, barely any talking cuz i think toby would be too embarrassed by his stutter

word count: 1.6k

masterlist

a.n: when i read final girl in the request, i pictured reader wearing those outfits that female japanese horror game protags wear (picture fatal frame). i’m gonna keep the end ambiguous for you because my freak brain wants it all to work out perfectly for them, but the other part of my brain wants to keep it realistic cuz there’s no way in HELL i’d let someone forcing me to run live. if you want me to continue where i left off i’d be so glad to (and you can pick whichever type of “route” you want). ENJOY!!

The cool, night air gave you chills all over as your feet pounded against the soft forest floor under your feet. With every quick step you took, another short burst of breath escaped your lips. It felt like you were being pushed back by a sudden gust of wind, but the trees continued to look blurry in the corners in your eyes, and that was a good thing. You kept your pace – even if it felt like the breeze kept poking needles into the cuts on your skin.

You had decided to actually dress up today but stayed mindful enough for the fall weather. So, you weren’t exactly dressed for the occasion. Maybe next time you decide you want to get attacked by some psycho swinging hatchets; you’ll be a little more fucking prepared.

The whistling of said hatchet reminds you of why you were running. The sound of his weapon whirred by as it lodges itself deep into the bark of a tree. It’s already behind you as your mind yelled at your body to keep up. His other hatchet thwacks into a tree too close to your head and you scream involuntarily. You stumble to a stop stupidly, stabilize yourself, and drag your body to pivot and sprint to the right.

You weren’t sure how long you could keep going. But - as much as your lungs burned - that buzz that came from fighting for your life nagged at you like a bitch. You don’t care how much your body hurts because you will deal with the consequences later.

You’re not going to let yourself die.

Toby grunted as frustration and anger seethed in his veins. Wrapping his hands around the handle of his hatchet, he kept his eyes trained on you as he struggled to pull the thing free. He’d all but forgotten that the other one was a few feet away. He wasn’t normally fond of losing his favorite toys. He wouldn’t lose you either.

You were a stupid, stupid girl, after all.

His head violently twitched to the side compulsorily when he finally dislodged his weapon. A few wood chips flew out and landed on the muddy leaves below. He stood there, taking and letting out deep breaths.

He thinks about what might be going through your mind as you keep running. Maybe about how you were gonna get out of here, call the pigs, and have some nurse tend to the wounds he gave you. He smiled and tightened his grip on his hatchet as he fantasized about your naïve hope. He knew these woods like the back of his hand.

You wouldn’t make it out of here in one piece.

You slow down as the structure of a house comes into view. It fits the eerie atmosphere perfectly – chipping paint, broken windows. You’re not here to admire the neglected building, though, and you stomp up the small steps. The door lets out a low groan as you practically shove it open using your shoulder.

Slamming it behind you, your head whips around for the exit or some type of weapon. In the distance, you can hear the shrill whistle of the man outside, an involuntary thing, you’ve noticed. Just how long have you been fighting this freak? Enough to learn his quirks, that’s for sure.

Delving deeper into the house with hurried steps, you look around for a kitchen. Find a weapon, find a weapon, you repeat to yourself, the sound of your quick gasps filling your ears. You catch yourself on the doorway when you almost rush past it.

You barely stepped foot into the room before crying out when you felt something make impact with your back. The dull, heavy pressure sends painful shockwaves through you. Having the wind knocked out of you, the muscles in your back spasm and you buckle forward. He shoves you, and you wheeze as the edge of the rusted stove in front of you digs painfully into your stomach.

Your eyes immediately land on a cast iron skillet, and you think you have less than three seconds. You smash the pan against the side of his head, your grunt and the metal clang the only sounds in the room. You were confused as to why he wasn’t yelling out in pain. But your arms jerked upward, the heavy iron bludgeoning into his chin and he stumbles back.

Toby can hear the ringing in his ears with each blow to his head, his world spinning for far too long than he would’ve liked. He snarls and grabs your arm, throwing you in the direction of a wall hard - causing you to drop your makeshift weapon.

He looks at you, at how your legs shake as you try to steady the world around you. Look at you - you looked like a fawn. With your wide eyes and trembling form. Guess he’ll be your coyote, right? He’d sink his teeth into the side of your neck and stain his maw with your crimson flood. You were just pretty enough that he couldn’t wait to watch your eyes roll back when he greedily kept the air from inflating your lungs.

No, but you weren’t a fawn, were you? He’d seen more fight in you than any of the losers he was tasked to kill. They sobbed – they fucking begged on their hands and knees – to keep him from tearing them limb by limb. You were stronger than he thought you’d be, but you weren’t as agile as he was, he thought.

His face stretched as another wide, sinister grin spread across his face. His gloved hand tightened around the hatchet’s handle. He could hear the leather creak if he focused on anything other than your breathing.

You duck and stumble out of the way as you hear the spitting of wood above your head. He yells out a loud “fuck!” and attempts to yank the weapon free. You run out of the room and almost collide with another wall. You pivot on your heel because there was no way you’d run away from the front--

Gasping, you caught your balance before you could fall through the gaping hole on the floor. No time to jump, you told yourself, and you spun once again. Sprinting down the hall, you were met with the door to a room rather than any kind of exit.

You’d remember to set this house on fire when you made it out alive.

The room stunk of decaying carcasses and a thick powdery smell – the former outperforming the latter. You make your way to a second door and find yourself in a bathroom. You think there’s nothing here heavy enough to hurt him until your eyes land on a towel rod that hung loosely from the wall.

With a determined tug it comes out and you know he heard it. You can tell by the way you hear his heavy boots scramble in the direction of the room. You take a deep gulp of air and press your back against the wall next to the door.

The air was heavy with tension as the door creaked open. His shadowy figure stretched on the floor, and he walked right in. Would he turn around? Would he sense where you were before it was too late?

While he twisted around, you slam the rod into the side of his head. He’s disoriented for a moment, his head rolling to the side. Before he could react, you lifted your right leg, and the bottom of your shoe made contact with his stomach – sending him hurtling back.

Toby lets out a groan as he loses his balance and falls into a tub. His limbs sprawl out, legs and arms dangling from the sides. He attempts to move when a raw, guttural scream that causes his chest to tighten makes him stop. His eyes dilate as he stares at you wildly. Something about your scream has shaken him to his core. His head was still dizzy and a little numb from the force of your hit. And yet he couldn’t help but admire your resilience. He should be livid – breaking all your fingers and pulling your pretty little teeth out of your mouth one by one.

The man’s tics overtook him, his eyelids squeezed shut with a sudden intensity. He opens them again, and you’re still rooted in the same spot – breathing heavily. He’d never seen a girl look as hot as you did right now. He didn’t think that was even possible in your state. Your clothes, hair, and face were caked in mud and blood from your gashes. A girl like you should’ve been screaming in pain and crying for her mommy. But you stared at him with a burning defiance that caused his heart to pound violently against his chest.

His hatchet lay at your feet, and he realized that you had gotten him. You won. He could try attacking you again – he was bigger than you – but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He can’t fight back anymore; he just stares in what he can only assume is awe. Years of taking lives and witnessing more gore than anyone ever should, could not have prepared him for this moment. You didn’t stop – you just couldn’t. It was… admirable. Beautiful, even, if he was a more sentimental person.

You piqued his curiosity like nobody had ever done before. He wanted to know what made you tick. He wanted to study every movement, sound, and judgement you’d ever make. You could break all the bones in his body, and he’d come running back to watch you do it again when the Operator put him together again.

You astonished him.

So, what’ll you do now?

#ticci toby x reader #ticci toby x you #ticci toby x female reader #tobias erin rogers #toby rogers x reader #creepypasta fanfiction #fanfiction #creepypasta x reader #x reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #female y/n #reader insert #creepypasta ticci toby #ticci toby creepypasta #creepypasta fanfic #final girl

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kingkatsuki · 1 year ago

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Don’t mind me— trying to get back into writing and having more delusional thoughts about Bakugou.

Going wedding dress shopping and Bakugou is gutted he can’t be there with you, even though he’s been reminded numerous times by his mother that it’s bad luck for him to see the bride in her dress before her wedding day.

“Didn’t your mum tell you not to call me today?” You grin when you recognise his caller ID.

“She would say that when she’s the one that gets to see you in every dress.” He replies, instantly hitting the button to change it to a video call, “I just wanted to see how you were gettin’ on, I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” You coo, “But it is bad luck.”

“It’s just a superstition,” He scoffs as you answer his FaceTime call inside the fitting room, smiling sheepishly at the assistant as you pan the phone up to ensure your fiance doesn’t get a glimpse of the dress, “How unlucky can I be if I’m marryin’ you anyway?”

“What if you see the dress and then decide not to marry me?” You tease, glancing at your reflection in the mirror as you look at yourself in the dress.

“Fuckin’ impossible,” Bakugou snorts, shaking his head as he frowns into the phone. Red eyes glaring from behind his Pro-Hero mask as he continues his patrol around the city, “You’re stuck with me for life now, woman.”

“I hope you’re still saying this when you see this dress—“ You tease, knowing that you’ll have to go out and show your wedding party soon. All of them probably sipping on their champagne and wondering why this dress is taking so long.

“This dress?” Bakugou’s ears perk up at the words, “Are you sayin’ that’s the dress, sweetheart?”

“Mmm maybe,” You tease back, interrupted by a knock at the door as Mitsuki’s voice sounds from the other side.

“Are you okay in there, darling?”

“I’m fine, Mitsuki.” You call back, “I’ll be out in a second.”

Turning your attention back to the phone you purse your lips into a pout to blow a kiss towards the screen, “I’m gonna show your mum now and then I’ll know.”

“Oh come on, baby. Don’t be a tease—” He groans, “Flash me. Just do it quick—”

“Katsuki!” You chastise, wide eyes now staring at the grinning fitting assistant, “Don’t say it like that— your mothers outside.”

“So? You’re gonna show her anyway.” A heat rises to your cheeks at the implication of his words, hoping that Mitsuki hasn’t heard as you move to hang up on him, “Come on baby, please. I need to see what I’m gonna fuck you in after the—”

“Katsuki!”

“Ain’t it better to work out the logistics now, sweetheart?”

#soft bakugou

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coldwind-shiningstars · 8 months ago

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Dungeon Meshi is obviously primarily about food, eating, and crucially survival through eating, but it's also focused on other aspects of survival. Sleep, rest, social ties and social exclusion. There's even extensive commentary on things like personal grooming (Marcille’s hair, Toshiro becoming depressed and no longer shaving), clean bathrooms, and other things. When it comes to disability these things are referred to as instrumental activities of daily life (IADLs), which are more complex things like shopping, housework, and cooking, which people need to do to survive, and activities of daily life (ADLs) which are the basic bare bones needs: eating, toileting, etc. Dungeon Meshi is concerned with the logistics of living and finding joy in those logistics.

This is super related to disability! Yes, Laios is autistic, this has been apparent from the beginning. But what does being autistic mean for him and the story? Mostly, it means his desires, goals, and the ways he goes about achieving them are strange, foreign, or baffling. He has different priorities than other people and the way he expresses those priorities are strange. They affect how he socializes, how he eats…

So, it absolutely makes sense that there would be a minor sideplot about activities of daily living and what it's like to be out of sync with everyone else when it comes to prioritizing things. It's Mithrun Time (he's gonna mith all over the place) and I'm so SO interested in the interplay of disability, caregiving and the logistics thereof, and intersectionality & privilege. Who needs care? How do other people feel about them needing care? How do they receive that care? And who do we think is worthy of receiving care and how does that interact with all these other factors?

Bunch of manga and extras spoilers past the cut:

“So, what's wrong with you?”

I see a lot of people talking about Mithrun's non-eye disability as a depression allegory, which I think is true, but I think it's also metaphorically/symbolically both a traumatic brain injury and a trauma response to sexual assault. The sexual assault aspect is pretty clear if you look at any of the symbolism of the actual disabling event: just look at it.

Mithrun is lying in bed and the goat comes to him, lifts him up and puts its mouth on his abdomen and lower pelvis. The eating is sexually charged, as is the particular way he struggles and protests. It's intensely violating, and things that were once desirable are lost. And the dungeon lord group therapy session involves a lot of people talking about the demons like an abusive lover; Mithrun, even though he wanted to kill the demon so badly, still says that they're gentle.

As for the brain injury, chronic TBIs can cause a wide variety of symptoms. Some immediately relevant ones are anhedonia (lack of enjoyment), executive function issues, poor interoception (trouble understanding what's going on in your body), cognitive impairment affecting ability to reason/multitask/plan/solve problems, changes in behavior and personality, depression, agitation, and restlessness. We see… basically all of these, in Mithrun, as downstream effects of the loss of desires. He can't tell when he's hungry, tired, or out of mana; he can't perform ADLs consistently even if he knows he'll die without doing them and dying without doing them will interfere with his long-term goal, he had drastic personality changes, he oscillates between impatient and totally withdrawn.

Brain injuries can also affect more complex tasks and ability to sustain lengthy periods of complex cognitive work. A common example is losing the ability to read and process longer passages; maybe you can read the words but you can't read a paragraph, or maybe you can read paragraphs but now you get a migraine after 15 minutes. Mithrun's skill loss is not related to reading but the effect is similar – he is and was extremely skilled in a particular area of magic, but also disabled in ways that specifically hinder his skill in this area – to teleport things properly you need depth perception and a sense of direction, and he lacks both of these! And while he's still an incredibly effective fighter it seems like he pretty frequently makes those sorts of mistakes.

This is treated often as a gag and it is genuinely funny but it’s also very real, to no longer be as good at the thing you were good at before you became disabled. Kui takes several throwaway gags seriously later on, not just this one. Another ~gag that's not really elaborated on is the bathroom thing, but I appreciate its inclusion anyway, since even if it's presented humorously it doesn't feel meanspirited in a way a lot of “diaper jokes” do. I think people need to talk a lot more about bathroom issues in a wide variety of disabilities, and I think it's nice that a guy I can already picture the “poor little meow meow” posts about also has this issue, you know?

Preferences vs Desire

Even referencing PTSD and TBIs it's hard to really grasp what having no desires means, and the characters don't generally ask, while Mithrun explains it in vague terms. “Desires” is a very broad term and indeed he has lost access to a wide but related variety of things. Unfortunately this lead to him often being treated as nonagentic.

Mithrun does still have preferences, even if he doesn't express them and has no desire which would drive him to seek out pleasant things and avoid unpleasant ones. He'll comment on the taste and texture of foods, for example – sure seems like he has an opinion!

People treat it like his preferences don't matter since he doesn't usually bring them up unprompted, and he's often in situations where there aren't other options.

Kabru seems best at not doing this (and, noncoincidentally, also seems to be the best at actually caring for him; the Canaries have a lot more Resources theoretically than Kabru And Mithrun Eating Monsters And Kabru's A Bad Cook, but although they are loudly distressed by the two of them disappearing it seems to have positively affected Mithrun's general health)

But, uh, acknowledgement that someone has preferences at all is a really low bar to clear and Kabru also doesn't seem to fully understand how Mithrun's brain works. Mithrun’s caregivers want him to eat when they want him to eat. They want him to rest and drink when they want him to.

He lacks the desire for a number of mundane things but also seems to lack the ability to tell when he needs them. He can't explain why he faints; is “I am out of mana” considered a desire for more mana, one that can be eaten? He can't sleep on his own; it's not only that he lacks “the desire to go to bed” but he can't do anything with his own exhaustion, even if he notices it. He comments on the unpleasant taste and texture of several meals; he may be unable to want to not eat it, but he definitely can tell when he dislikes something. But he also seems to be unable to tell when he's hungry.

Kabru will acknowledge these preferences but there's not really other food options, and Everyone Must Eat. Kabru doesn't know the details of Mithrun's condition yet but you can see the immediate frustration here and the way he offers food to him like Mithrun's a child.

Sure, he won't directly communicate preferences, so that makes it extra hard, but you can always just ask, and if he tells you he tells you.

The pathway between opinion and taking actions about it may be lost in Mithrun but the dungeon forces other people into a similar position – it forces them to eat food they don't want to eat so that they can survive or accomplish other goals. We've seen this with Marcille from the beginning. It's difficult with Mithrun because it seems like there is always going to have to be some sort of someone else overriding his autonomy – yeah, he's not hungry but he still needs to eat or he'll faint. Yeah, he's lying about whether or not he's clean but he still needs to wash or he'll die. Yeah, he needs to take a rest instead of keeping moving or he'll faint. But he's not unique in being in a situation where he has to do nonpreferred things. The difference is more that he lacks the ability to independently do anything when it comes to ADLs, preferred or not, which makes it into someone else’s choice and responsibility.

There's also a theme in Dungeon Meshi that comes up a bit of people being pushy about ADLs but from a slightly different perspective, and they're usually right. You see this in Senshi most commonly; he pushes the residents of the Golden City to actually eat even if they don't need to and can't taste it, and while he's correct in that Yaad does get enjoyment from the food even without taste he's still not quite listening to Yaad. Similarly, Kabru is correct in that he can get Mithrun to sleep without a sleeping spell, but he also ignores the way Mithrun says several times that he doesn't expect massage to work. There's a few aspects to this – wild but expected that the elves would choose the “just knock him out with a spell” route, the “easy way” Senshi always talks about when it comes to magic, instead of actually paying attention to other solutions. But also, generally, people know their bodies best, and sometimes even if you're really sure you have the trick to help them you have to listen to what they tell you.

tvtropes dot org frontslash DisabilityTropes

This is going to be a harder section just because it's so subjective; it's nearly impossible to think about the ways in which disabled people are viewed by the people around them/wider society with any degree of objectivity just because there are so many factors that go into it. But I do think Mithrun is consistently treated as relatively nonagentic and there are several ways this can manifest: being treated as a doll/pet/child, being treated as a weapon, and being a surface for people to project onto.

He's framed or treated as childlike intermittently through the manga; scattered about, just a little vibe in the way he's drawn, like the "say aah" above and Pattadol and Cithis through the teleportation scroll :

That's a middle aged man! And he's framed like a toddler getting picked up or misbehaving.

Which doesn't mean they care about him any less; his squad is really fond of him for someone who's technically like their parole officer. How dare you do this to our captain! They love him dearly; this is obvious and he comments on it! They respect him, too, as the leader and as a strong fighter. But loving someone and thinking they're a skilled fighter doesn't mean you respect their autonomy fully.

There's also an element of everyone projecting their own issues onto him; Kabru with their shared Dungeon Trauma. The canaries all suggesting wacky, midlife-crisis desires. He doesn't ever express that he minds any of this, except when they try to stop him from making particular decisions. They also don't often understand why he'd be motivated to do a particular thing, and in fact some of these projections may actually be correct! But while noodles and pottery may be good later-on goals for him, I think it's striking that a) Kabru was the closest to correctly guessing what desire Mithrun might acquire now and he was still guessing the exact opposite (suggesting a desire to not eat Falin but to help Laios, vs Mithrun's actual desire, which was to eat Falin with no thought given to the promise he made at all) and b) it's a desire that actually makes perfect sense with what we know about him, not something totally new.

And, finally, he's a weapon: people are willing to caretake him because he's good at killing things dead. If his only desire is to kill demons dead, it's easy to start seeing that as who he is. I don't think he'd argue that “trying to kill demons” takes up the majority of his life (it's his only goal and he's obsessed with it) but even if there's only one thing that matters to him he has autonomy (in the sense that he can make his own choices about what to prioritize and formulate his own plans) and personhood.

Politics and privilege – who gets to access care?

One of the things we're first presented with when it comes to Mithrun is that he is intensely capable at handling dungeons. Yeah, there's the immediately visible prosthetic eye and the navigation issues, but the Canaries are built up as being incredibly dangerous and skilled, and he's their captain; they all immediately defer to him. He's intense, he curbstomps an entire room of guards, he's efficient, he's brutal, he's strong physically and magically.

In short: yeah, he's very disabled. He's also still very useful.

At the risk of oversimplification, even within his particular disability, he's much more disabled than Marcille is (she lost something relatively simple and easy to miss, she has no catatonia-moment) but less disabled than Thistle, who seems to still have at least one desire related to the king but is still primarily catatonic. It seems like Thistle is not unusual among ex-dungeon lords, even if there's enough noncatatonic dungeon lords to form a support group later. When Milsiril finds Mithrun, she immediately intends to mercy-kill him – this seems to be a condition the elves are familiar with but consider terminal, at least to the degree Mithrun is affected, and people seem unfamiliar what it means to keep living in this state because Mithrun is unusual in that he survives at all. And he's “allowed” to survive initially because he's not as disabled as he could have been (still has a desire) and that desire is useful. They aim him at the dungeons and off he goes. It takes twenty years for him to recover enough to do it, sure, but they're elves. They can wait. He can still be useful.

Relatedly, when he loses the ability to pursue his desire he's immediately much worse off than he was previously.

The no-desire catatonia is something that can recur and the elves continue to not know how to handle it. If Kabru wasn't there to problemsolve I think he'd have just… stayed there with his increasingly distressed squad.

Speaking of his squad, there's also a fascinating power dynamic going on with just the inherent structure of the Canaries; criminals are assigned as his caregivers. There's the inherent unfairness to the criminal Canaries about them being given extra duties, this strange rich noble guy who's now their Responsibility. There's so much possibility for resentment in normal caregiving relationships, much less being forced by your jailor into caregiving someone. But there's also an element of the power the prisoner Canaries now have over him and his most basic ADLs and needs. Assigning Cithis to his care is such a can of worms! The dynamics of the situation are frankly awful for both of them; of course she resents him initially. It would be strange for her not to. When Pattadol catches her making Mithrun do embarrassing things, she instantly reminds Cithis of her lower-status – she's forced to care for this nobleman and then forcibly reminded that she's beneath him.

She's responding to having menial, low-status tasks forced on her by trying to humiliate him, and although he doesn't have the ability to care enough to stop her it's still a deliberate removal of dignity. He's the instrument with which she is punished and she punishes him in return (until it's not fun anymore and she understands him a bit more.)

Mithrun is a long-lived race, who has structural power over the shorter lived races simply because of how long they live. The dwarves and elves try to actively keep certain knowledge from other races, restricting their access to technology, and other expressions of distance. Senshi spends nearly the whole first season not listening to Chilchuck trying to explain that he's an adult and treating him like a child, and Kabru repeatedly says that the elves do the same thing (and tbh we see them doing it). There's even the fact that it took him twenty years to recover enough to join the Canaries again; a shorter-lived race might have died from old age in this time, or become too old to work in this capacity, and then wasted away without the drive to return to the dungeons. But they're elves; the other elves can afford to wait, and he's not going to age out of dungeoneering any time soon. Being an elf probably contributes to his wealth in the same way skin color contributes to wealth inequality in the real world.

Dungeon Meshi doesn't really go into race in the sense of skin color much, and Kui is writing from a different cultural standpoint than I am. While tallmen are quite accurate when it comes to skin/hair color (yes, even Kabru and his blue eyes; it's rare but possible) and cultural references, the elves, uh, absolutely are not, both in the sense of “dark skin & pale hair and eyes trope” and sense of the royals having jet black skin.

Still, I feel like race is so connected to care and caregiving in the real-world west that I would be profoundly remiss not to mention it. Skin color might not matter to elves in the racism sense, but it matters to humans and humans are the ones writing and analyzing this story. (And I fully expect as the fandom grows with anime-onlies people will like Mithrun more because he's white (has white features) than they would if he had darker skin, because fandom is also baseline racist.)

I don't think we can just not mention that Mithrun is pale-skinned and both Cithis and Kabru, his primary caregivers over the story, both have dark skin.

Racism means white people are more likely to get good medical care, the type you need to get diagnosed and prescribed caregiving. Racism means wealth distribution is uneven, favoring white people. Race affects immigrants taking on undesirable jobs like caregiving for low pay. Racism is a profound stressor which means it contributes to who becomes disabled in the first place in that it can worsen health outcomes.

Similarly to race, gender may not be very obvious when it comes to this subplot within the story but the gendered dynamics of caregiving in the real world are something I do want to touch on. There's an oft-cited statistic about how men are much more likely than women to divorce their partners when their partners are diagnosed with a serious condition; I don't like relying too much on those sorts of statistics because they can be so misleading but it does gesture at something very real, culturally. Even if men aren't supposed to be caretaken, women are supposed to be the caretakers. Certainly, it's not Mithrun's fault that he can't cook and can't do laundry and probably can't do most housework, but I do also think about all the posts passed around about “my boyfriend who won't do housework.”

Again, none of these privileges make him less disabled and less in need of and deserving of care, they're just worth talking about when we talk about caregiving in general.

It's Rotten Work, Even If It's You

People expect disabled people receiving care to be grateful, to accept anything, and to try and make it easier for the caregiver if they're able. Requiring care is an incredibly disadvantaged position, even as actually receiving it can be so tangled up in privilege. Caregiving is tremendously difficult work, it's true, but there's a particular vibe people want from disabled people – all those movies about not wanting to be seen as a burden. Never complaining. Being grateful.

And, uh, well…

Mithrun basically accepts anything his caregivers do, but he's not grateful at all! I appreciate that in a disability portrayal. He'll also lie to and ignore his caregivers, which is Annoying but is definitely an expression of autonomy even if he's probably not doing it specifically to express his autonomy. He's not going to thank you. He's not going to make it easy. He'll accept a lot of things considered “undignified,” and he's not mean or unpleasant in the sense that he's taking advantage or anything, but he's certainly not a model patient.

He's running off back into the dungeons just when you think you've finally gotten him somewhere safe.

There's always a strange tension in caregiving, I've found. It is incredibly intimate but a lot of it is done by total strangers. A number of caregiving tasks are viewed by the wider world as entitled but placing those tasks in the hands of strangers is a remarkably tough place to be in. As a disabled person, I've had to accept my bowel movements being discussed with my parents’ friends, all sorts of being physically moved places not against my will but without my permission, even my pubic hair being shaved off by a stranger (nurse) while I was unable to speak or move. When people are feeding you, making sure you use the toilet, rubbing your feet to make you sleep, helping you with hygiene – people are working so hard to help you. Are you supposed to just accept them doing whatever they want to you?

There's also a dynamic where people will say they don't mind caring for you, they're happy to do it, and then as the years go by and you continue to need care the resentment just builds up. Caregiving is hard work. It's often thankless. The goodness of people’s hearts can run dry, when it's been twenty years and you still can't bathe yourself.

Aaand I need to continue in reblogs, because I'm out of space for images. Please hold. edit: you can find part 2 here

#eat or be eaten #I'm real and I beat myself up behind the Blockbusters #tbh i tried not to talk about myself too much here. but uhhhh caregiving issues are so tender for me #tender in the ouch way not the gentle way #anyway #dungeon meshi spoilers #dungeon meshi #mithrun

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melodic-haze · 9 months ago

Note

What if breeding and overstimulating Ei? Fucking her through her orgasm and continuing to fuck your dick into her abused hole, fucking your cum deeper into her pussy to make sure she takes all of it....

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Ei x dom!amab!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Reader with a dick, dumbification

☆ — NOTES: Blame Miko 🤷‍♀️ but also I've been wanting to write Ei and/or Miko for so long THANK YOU ANON

Put me and her in a room and I'm not gonna be the one coming out pregnant just saying 🫶

Realistically this is probably (definitely) Miko's fault for getting into her head, but she had lent her a book that she didn't realise was.....less than innocent

It was a novel that described some rather salacious scenes that had Ei go from confused to surprised to flustered.. and then to that feeling of neediness welling inside her. It's got her thinking of you and what you can do to her, which then eventually led to her personally seeking you out for a bit of a 'reading session' 🥰

Mini thought dump so if you don't wanna read then skip this point. Ok as someone who loves getting into logistics and how things would work hypothetically, I find this situation funny bc like. If Ei can model her body to whatever she wants it to be bc it's synthetic, which means taking out whatever she deems unnecessary, then would she have a reproductive system? Would she deem it important?? Would you even have anything to insert yourself into or is she just. Cursedly smooth

Anyway thought dump over, sorry for the crisis even though you were expecting 🌽. MOVING ON

It's hard to believe that the woman you're dicking down is Inazuma's very own revered Archon when the one you've got underneath you at this moment looks so unbelievably fucked out and far off: eyes clouded and rolling to the back of her head, fingers digging into the sheets, mouth glistening with a mix of your saliva and the drool on the corner of her mouth, hair out of its normal braid and surrounding her like some kind of purple aura

And that's not even accounting the occasional spark of electro here and there to which she had initially apologised for. Though that was before she became all dumb and lost all sense of thought and responsibility, her mind practically turned to mush as you keep on pistoning her relentlessly. Now she's just REALLY unaware of anything and everything else but you and how good you make her feel. Everything else is just SO overwhelming for her little brain 😞😞😞😞

"I-- I'm c-cumming again, I-- feel the--"

"'s okay, baby," you groaned out, putting her legs above your shoulders as you moved within her, "you can cum."

It will never cease to amaze you, how your words had such an effect on the strongest figure in all of Inazuma, especially when your words get her to react so very intensely—her insides squeeze you like a vice as her hips lift off the bed in an attempt to get you as close to the base as possible.. or at least, she tries to.

Despite all that strength she has, all it takes you is a press down onto her abdomen as a way to both keep her hips down and to add more pressure on her and suddenly she's all pliant. The poor girl can't even scream—she was never really the type to—so when she opens her mouth, she doesn't make a sound as you push your hips into her in a particular way before stilling your movements as you came inside for.. who knows how many times it's been?

The amount of cum that spills out from her pussy despite your cock practically plugging it shut is enough of a giveaway that you've been at it for a while though.

..But you find that you don't really care when you start up all over again, not giving her enough time to come down from her high and overwhelming her completely.

You act out whatever she saw on that book of hers: the poses, the positions, the angles, whatever she thought was interesting to her. She used her lack of present knowledge to her advantage too—she had asked you for a proper demonstration, seeing as how she had been trapped in the PoE for the longest time so she fears she's not all that familiar with these.. new words or phrases!!

Half of it was true but other half of it was her just trying to lure you. And it worked so 🤷‍♀️ fair game

You make sure to stuff her silly with all of you, scooping up what drips out and stuffing it back in to make sure that nothing goes wasted. That proves to be a hard task as you proceed though because throughout your many rounds and the actual breaks in between, there IS a limit to how much she can have inside her so it's inevitable that it'd spill

Not like the sight isn't great, it's actually the opposite—just seeing YOUR own cum practically overflow in her pussy like that? FUCK just the thought of her insides being painted white because of you??? It's the way that if you pressed down on her abdomen without your cock clogging her entrance, it'd gush out in streams.......ohhhhgoodness

Your lover stares down absentmindedly at her pussy, hole agape and very much abused and so so so filled up and stained and whatever it is she could think of to describe it. Such warmth was inside her, the feeling of being full never quite leaving her—not as if it ever could for a good while, when you've filled her with so much cum that it's spilling without anything to prevent its escape from within her.

She had designed this body with the thought of only keeping necessary systems on the design for optimal use in upkeeping eternity and avoiding erosion. Why she had designed it with erogenous areas in mind? The reason eludes her, but now not only does Ei thank herself from going through with it, she is lamenting the lack of a complete reproductive system.

While becoming pregnant would.. pose for mixed results during her planned time to make amends to the nation for running away and keeping a narrow mind on what eternity could mean, she had wondered how the session would have felt with such capabilities. Would it have felt better? The same? Worse?

..Perhaps she will take a note to reassess the Shogun's model later.

Zooweemama by GOD I need her, end of story good night all

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lucijawriteswords · 1 month ago

Text

losing it | trevor zegras

summary: you and trevor have hit a rough patch recently, with covid and him being away and all, and everything comes to a head over his tournament.

warnings: 18+ SMUT!!! kissing, oral (m receiving). grossly emotional. some fluff. once again relatively tame. once again, unedited. apologies.

word count: 3.9k

A/N: hello hello! firstly, i cannot thank you all enough for your love. i’m absolutely floored. please, continue to let me know how you feel, who you want me to write about, what you want me to write about. it’s all for you anyways. for those of you who love whiny, obedient, indulgent hockey boys, this one is for you. for those of you who prefer the other kind: be patient with me. he’s on the way and he’s worth the wait. yes, the timelines probably don’t line up perfectly. yes, the logistics of everything are off. but you’re probably not here for that ;). i invite you to enjoy this little piece of me. until next time.

18+ below the cut

Z❤️: I don’t think u should come to the tourney

your entire body stilled as you read the message banner on the top of your phone screen. you had to be seeing things. your thumb was shaky as you moved it up to click on the notification. you blamed it on the train.

and there it was. you weren’t seeing things. trevor actually said you shouldn’t go to his tournament.

now, if it was any other tournament, you would’ve probably given in. said yes, settled for just seeing him on facetime. but this was his last time playing for the national team as a junior, a team he had grown up with, a team that was his family, and by extension, yours. you and trevor had been together for years, since you were both fifteen. his friends clowned you two endlessly for it, stating that there was no way it would work out in the big picture, that it was just a teenage thing, and it would end when you guys turned twenty.

you’d never even considered their words until now.

Y/N🌹: wdym?

awful answer, but you truly couldn't figure out what he meant. or rather, if he meant it.

Z❤️: Think I made it pretty clear when I said u shouldn’t come to the tourney. We have the whole covid bubble and I’m not gonna pretend its been sunshine and rainbows w us the past few weeks cause it hasnt

Y/N🌹: ok

Z❤️: Ok? U don’t care?

you scoffed.

Y/N🌹: i care trevor i just don’t wanna argue with you about this. ur obviously pretty convinced i shouldn’t be there so i’m not gonna try and change ur mind abt it

Z❤️: Ok then

Z❤️: I love you

Y/N🌹: i love you more. can we talk more a bit later?

read 4:13pm

you laughed bitterly, trying to ignore the tears stinging your eyes. the screen above the door signaled your stop and you stood, making your way off the train. the boston air was cold, seemingly clawing it’s way through your coat and hoodie and sinking it’s claws into your already wounded heart.

you felt tears, cold on your face. you wiped them away quickly, scolding yourself mentally. get over it, it’s not like he broke up with you. it’s just a tournament. he’ll have more tournaments in his life.

your hand, already cold, seemingly rattled as it pushed the door open to your apartment building. once you were in the elevator, your keys seemed to evade you, playing a game of hide and seek in your bag. huffing in annoyance, you slung the bag off your shoulder, setting it down on the floor of the elevator and rifling through the contents harshly. finally, you located the bastards, seizing them triumphantly, trying with every bit of your being to ignore the usa hockey keychain with his initials on the back. the elevator door ground it’s way open and you stepped out as quickly as possible, muttering to yourself, “hate that fuckin’ elevator.”

the aforementioned bastardized keys jingled loudly as you shoved the correct one into the lock. you twisted it, pushing the door open with your other hand before harshly removing the jesting hunk of metal and tossing it away. the metallic thud and halting of jingling as it landed somewhere was therapeutic to your aching mind.

as you flopped down onto the couch, you realized that all you wanted was to lay down and go to bed. so what if it was only 4:30? it was cold, dead winter in boston, your boyfriend wasn’t home, and you didn’t have anything to do because you didn’t have to pack anymore. you should’ve felt relief, right? no responsibilities, half a month without in person classes, no plane tickets and masks and new, scary airport rules, no name tags around your neck and no girls giggling and groaning right behind you over trevor. but you didn’t feel relief. you’d grown to love the chaos, to understand it and want it. hockey was one of the most important things in trevor’s life, and he was one of the most important things in yours, so hockey became integral to your life too. you learned the ins and outs, befriended his teammates, went to practices and sometimes even dryland, just to see him to what he loved.

it had changed a lot over the past year or so, with him being drafted and then covid. he wasn’t playing in california yet, so there was that, but it was at the forefront of his mind, and you could tell. that’s not to say he wasn’t finding success in college hockey, but his mind was obviously elsewhere. you’d never brought it up until a few weeks ago, when he was about to leave to enter the covid bubble for the juniors tournament. it was the night before he left when you finally brought it up.

two weeks ago

“hey z?”

he lifted his head from whatever he was looking at on his phone. “mhm?”

you walked over and sat down on the couch next to him. “i just want you to know that i’m here for you and you can talk to me.”

his face immediately screwed up and you felt your stomach drop. “what? why’re you saying that? did i do something wrong?” defensive.

you steadied yourself with an inhale. “no, but i just wanted to make sure you knew. i can tell there’s been a lot on your mind recently.”

he scoffed. “yeah, whatever.” his gaze returned to his phone.

“whatever? trevor, are you being serious?”

“yeah, y/n, i am.” he shot back, his gaze fiery as it collided with yours again. “ i’m fine, i don’t know what your deal is.”

“i never said you weren’t fine.”

“no, but you said i don’t seem focused.”

you furrowed your brow and shook your head, incredulous. “i did not say that. i said you seem like you have a lot on your mind.”

“same difference. what, am i not paying enough attention to you? am i playing poorly? what’s wrong with me now, y/n? what am i failing at? god, you’re stupid sometimes.”

you were stunned, jaw slack as you took in his words. you saw the recognition in his eyes, noticed the way his mouth opened to retract his words and offer a shitty apology, the way his torso rotated towards you and he held up a hand as an ask for forgiveness as he was about to defend himself.

your response was automatic.

“i don’t know why you’re asking what’s wrong with you now because, if i recall, and forgive me if i don’t because i’m so stupid, i’ve said jack shit to you about how much attention you give me or how you play. do you honestly think i care? news flash, i don’t. i don’t fucking care how you play! i don’t care if you don’t score, or get an assist, i wouldn’t fucking care if you didn’t put a single point up all season! because i care about you. i care about if you’re having fun and feeling proud of yourself for how hard you work. i love being able to do it all with you, trevor, but if you’re going to call me stupid for caring about you, i can definitely let you do it on your own.”

it was his turn to be floored.

after a pregnant pause filled with his confused eyes searching your face and your eyes almost letting go of their tears, his voice cut through. “you’re breaking up with me?” you weren’t imagining the tremble in his voice or the watering of his eyes.

“no, trevor, i’m not breaking up with you.” you sniffled, wiping under your eyes with the cuff of your hoodie. his hoodie. “i don’t think i could do that even if i wanted to. i’m just saying you don’t get to be mean to me-” your voice faltered, tears truly flowing now. you tried to keep your sobs inside, feeling the cushion you were on dip as trevor scooted over to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. you let go, cried into his chest, fingers clutching the back of his sweatshirt. you felt him crying too, the way his back shook and the wetness in the crook of your neck where his head was nestled. you shifted to be on top of him, legs straddling his, but there was nothing sexual about it. you just needed to be as close to him as you could be and you knew he needed you too.

trevor cried and cried and cried. you weren’t even hurt by what he said anymore. you’d known something was bugging him, that his mind wasn’t completely in it, but the way he cried- loud and hard and full of hurt- made you sad. it made you angry.

when you started to feel him twitch and hiccup, gasping for air in between sobs, barely getting air in, you knew your time in silence had ended. “baby, can you look at me?” he just squeezed you tighter and let out another sob into your neck. “honey, please.” he sniffled, reluctantly drawing his face away from your neck. your eyes filled with tears again at the sight of his face: lips and nose red and puffy, cheeks stained with tears, his eyes swollen and bloodshot. you brought your hands to cradle his head, thumbs swiping gently under his eyes. he melted into your touch.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, so quiet and tearful you weren’t sure you heard it.

“thank you.” you whispered back, bringing your lips to his forehead and kissing it lightly.

“you’re not stupid. you’re the smartest person i know. i’m just-“ he took a deep breath, willing the tears away from his eyes. “just been really hard lately and i haven’t had an outlet. shouldn't have said that to you. i didn’t mean it.”

“i know, baby. i’m not mad. just wish you hadn’t said it. do you wanna talk?”

he nodded. “yeah, i wanna get it off my chest.”

“i’m listening.”

“i just don’t know if i’m good enough. i’m scared i’m not gonna make it in the league and i’m not gonna do well at worlds. i’m scared i’m gonna let the school team down, scared i’m not doing enough for you or that you’re gonna stop loving me. i don’t know,” he finished with a big sigh.

your eyes searched his face as you formulated an answer. “well, one thing i can promise you is that i’m not gonna stop loving you. and you’re doing more than enough. why do you think that i would stop loving you?”

“i dunno. i’m just in my head.”

“so get out,” you joked, trying to lighten the mood even the littlest bit.

a small smile made its way onto his face. “ha ha.”

“i’m serious, trev. i’m not going to stop loving you. nothing could make me. even if, somehow, life leads us separate ways- and i don’t think it will- i will always have love in my heart for you.”

he nodded with a sniffle, absorbing your words.

while he was in a talking mood, you decided to get the other one out of the way as well. “why’re you so concerned about hockey all of a sudden? you’ve been playing great here, your coaches at camps in california had nothing but good things to say. what’s up?”

“i’m not really sure. i guess i’m just in my head again. i compare myself to other players. like, jack went fucking first overall. he’s not even playing in the tournament because he’s in the nhl. and the guys that are coming, like coley and turcs, they both went above me in the draft. i just- i don’t know. i have the same training and experience and everything as those guys but i feel like i’ll underperform once we all get to the nhl.”

you just nodded, unable to find the right words. you knew how trevor was with hockey. he got in his head and convinced himself he wasn’t good enough even though he was beyond talented.

“i’m sorry,” was all you could muster.

he shakes his head, hair bouncing. “don’t be. not your fault.” a yawn breaks from his mouth.

“tired?” you hum, placing your head into the crook of his neck and shoulder, nuzzling into him. he lets his head fall sideways and rest on top of yours, his fingers lazily trailing up your sides. he hums an agreement and without another words carries you into the bedroom, sleepy apologies and ‘i love yous’ falling from both of your lips as you drift off.

now

breaking out of your reverie, you realized you were very cold. and your phone had stopped buzzing. standing up with creaky joints, you slipped your phone onto the wireless charger on the coffee table and flipped the heat up a couple degrees, padding into you and trevor’s shared bedroom to grab a sweatshirt.

tugging the garment over your head, you grabbed your favorite soft blanket from the end of the bed and made your way back to the couch to settle in and watch something.

a few minutes into your tv show, your phone screen lit up as it regained its charge, messages and snapchats pouring in.

from one person.

you almost broke the remote with how quickly you slammed the pause button, grabbing your phone with the charger still attached and clutching it tight, immediately opening you and trevor’s messages.

5:07pm

Z❤️: I can talk now if u wanted

Z❤️: Sorry to leave you on read we had a team meeting that I didn’t know about

Y/N🌹: it’s ok

Y/N🌹: should i call u?

Z❤️: Wait one sec

your brows furrowed.

Z❤️: Ok click on this

a banner appeared at the top of your screen from the wallet app:

New Boarding Pass from Southwest Airlines

your heart quite nearly fell out of your body. what kind of joke was he playing at?

Y/N🌹: trev r u serious

Y/N🌹: what kind of joke is this cause i’m not laughing

Z❤️: I’m going to explain everything rn

Y/N🌹: um hell yes you are

Z❤️: Rawr 🐱

despite yourself, a snort escaped your nose.

Y/N🌹: stop being funny and explain

Z❤️: During practice I just wasn’t playing well and a bunch of the guys were chirping me saying ‘how can you keep that bird if you can barely keep a puck’ and other bullshit like that and it just got under my skin

Y/N🌹: t don’t listen to them they’re full of shit

Y/N🌹: you know you’re talented

Z❤️: I know

Z❤️: I miss you so much

Y/N🌹: i miss you more

Y/N🌹: but i don’t understand the ticket. that’s not that bad of a chirp

Z❤️: I just really need you to be here and I’m sorry I didn’t realize it earlier

you smiled, your thumbs flying across the screen of your phone.

Y/N🌹: what airport do i fly into?

Z❤️: It’s all on the boarding pass baby just pack whatever you need for a few weeks cause u change outfits all the time and figure out a ride to the airport

Z❤️: I can order you an uber to the airport?

Y/N🌹: no baby that’s okay you’ve done way more than enough

Y/N🌹: trevor i love you so much

Z❤️: Im not tired I wanna keep talking to you

Z❤️: Can we ft while you pack?

Y/N🌹: you’re perfect

3 days later

the noises of the airport surrounded you as you made your way through the tunnel off the plane, your overfilled carryon and heavy backpack giving your back a run for its money.

waiting by the baggage claim was treacherous. your phone was going crazy in your hand.

Y/N🌹: just landed, waiting by baggage claim

Z❤️: Ok I am outside the baggage claim door

Z❤️: I have a hat and mask on so you might not recognize my wonderful hair or gorgeous face but i have this red and navy usa hky puffer thingy on

Y/N🌹: ur such a weirdo

Y/N🌹: who taught u the word puffer miss girly girl

Z❤️: Shush

Z❤️: Just get your bagggggggggg and come out here I miss you

you smiled at your phone and shut it off, looking at the spinning track, willing your bag to come out quickly.

you bounced impatiently on the balls of your feet as the gray suitcase made its way around, grabbing the handle excitedly and hauling it off the track as it got to you.

the wheels thrummed against the linoleum as you popped the handle up and scurried your way out the door, thanking the employee standing nearby.

the automatic doors squealed on their tracks as your suitcase wheels rattled over the concrete, turning as you exited the doors in a search for trevor. your eyes searched left and right for the navy and red puffer he said he’d be wearing, and when your eyes landed on him, your knees nearly buckled.

“trevor!” you shouted out excitedly, throwing a hand up in the air and waving at him, an unfiltered and toothy and real smile breaking onto your face.

you could practically see him smile even with the mask, walked him step quickly through people until he was clear, then break into a run the last few paces.

his chest collided with you in a bone crushing, devastating hug, a hug that said i’m sorry. i love you. please let me keep loving you. your arms wound around his back, hands digging into his jacket and you buried yourself into him.

“missed you so much, honey. i’m so sorry.” he murmured into your hair, pressing kisses onto your head through the mask.

you nodded, lifting your head from his chest, your eyes meeting. “let’s go to the car, yeah?” you nodded again, following him.

the streets and parking garage were near empty, a strange phenomenon around an airport. trevor’s grip on your hand was tight as he led you to the car, squeezing every now and again, like he couldn’t believe that you were there.

once your bags were in the car and you were sitting next to him in the passenger seat, the atmosphere between you changed drastically. tension shimmered between you two like hot air rising above the blacktop. his hand found its home on your thigh, drawing light circles, making you shiver.

his gaze strayed to you, eyes brimming with something that looked a lot like love, but more like want.

“how far is the hotel?” you breathed out, your true intentions on full display. and why wouldn’t they be?

“bout 45 minutes.” trevor responds, his hand simultaneously moving further up your thigh, nearing your clothed center. you squirmed, crossing your legs, leaning towards him.

“plenty of time, then.” you murmured as you moved your hands towards his zipper, towards what you wanted. you fiddled with the zipper tag, trailing your fingernails across the seam covering his bulge. “come on baby, don’t tease me.” he ground out, taking a turn a little to sharp when you scratched your nails down his denim clad thigh.

“or what, z? what’re you gonna do to me? gonna make me pay?” how you would love for him to make you pay.

he whined, the leather of the steering wheel groaning as his grip tightened. “please, baby. please. you’re killing me. i won’t make you pay, ill be so good when we get there, baby, ill do whatever you want.” he sputtered, turning off of the main road onto some side street away for the noise of an inner city airport.

a grin snaked onto your face, finally pulling his zipper down, almost salivating at the sight of this bulge of his pretty cock in his boxers. you shimmied his pants down, fingers digging into his rigid thighs, nails leaving crescent moons in the flesh. he huffed out something between a moan and a sob, head lolling to the side. “please, baby, please, just touch me. please, i’ll be good.”

“if you insist.” you cooed evilly, trailing a feather light fingertip over him through his boxers.

incredibly, finally, you took him in your hand, pumping him through his boxers, the soft fabric gliding along him, coaxing a moan from his pretty mouth.

trevor’s eyes, which had never strayed from the road, flared and his hips lifted pathetically in the air, searching for something, anything to relive the ache in his cock.

your core clenched around nothing at the sight of him, of his pathetic and desperate thrusts into the air, at how badly he needed your touch. he was quickly relieved of his boxers as you pushed them down, the fabric bunching around the hem of his pushed down pants. the car slowed to a stop, the noise of then turn signal and his ragged breathing almost comedic, almost shameful, but so, so right.

you looked up at him, the way his jaw clenched and his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, trying to play the role of dedicated driver to the cars in the adjacent lanes. an evil grin clawed its way onto your face before you lifted him to your mouth, taking him deeply at once, groaning at the silky, hot skin, the heavy feel of him on your tongue.

"holy fuck-" the car stuttered forward before the brakes were slammed back on, causing his cock to lurch deeper into your mouth, a pathetic whine leaving trevor's lips as he brushed the back of your throat. you just hummed around him, bobbing your head and bracing yourself against the console as the car accelerated slowly into a turn.

a murmured comment of "thank god for tinted windows," or something of that sort, caused you to let a small laugh out of your nose, the muscles in your throat constricting around him. you heard his ragged pants and the sound of his head hitting the headrest as he undoubtedly threw it back.

"baby, i'm gonna lose it, you're killing me." he whined, raising his hips off the seat, the strong muscle of his thigh pushing into your chest.

you simply grinned around his delicious length, pushing your head down till your nose almost met the soft skin at his base before pulling almost all the way off of him, tracing your teeth along the prominent vein on the underside of his cock, featherlight and torturous at the same time.

"shit." trevor heaved a sigh, chest caving in as he fought the urge to let go.

you trailed your nails up the taut muscle of his thigh, fingers splaying to anchor yourself. you felt him harden like steel and twitch in your mouth; you could almost smell the release coming over him like a wave, savoring the way his hips rolled and stuttered and finally bucked up into your mouth as he let go with a whimpered "fuck."

you moaned around him, laving your tongue over his now shuddering cock, taking everything he would give you.

"holy shit. holy shit." he whispered, one hand coming down to your head to gently urge you off him, overstimulation crashing over him suddenly and and unbearably.

you just sat back up and licked your lips, drowning in his taste.

"just wait till we get back to the hotel," you chuckled, crossing your legs and turning the radio on.

#nhl hockey #hockey #jack hughes #quinn hughes #nhl #trevor zegras #luke hughes #trevor zegras smut #trevor zegras x reader #nhl smut #anaheim ducks #jamie drysdale #smut #hockey boys #usa hockey #world juniors #lucijawriteswords

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janeyseymour · 11 months ago

Text

Just Sex

Summary: Melissa is hooking up with the chief at the firehouse, so you decide that you can have your own fun.

WC: ~2.1k

After the failed relationship and proposal with Gary, Melissa has been going out to bars and staying out late at night. She finds herself in bed with quite a few men and women, and while she’s not thrilled that she’s back to this lifestyle, she’s impressed that she still has what it takes. Getting older did not make it any easier to attract people.

But then one night she sees the fire chief out at the bar, one thing leads to the other, and they’re in a friends with benefits sort of situationship.

Of course, all of this comes out when you’re renewing your CPR training certificate with the Abbott clan, and Barbara has made it quite clear that she’s upset Melissa didn’t tell her of this relationship before.

You had been busy trying to pass your test, but now it’s your partner’s turn to go, and you tune back into the world around you.

“But if I were gonna label it, I would say it’s just sex,” you hear Melissa tell her work wife in a low voice.

You don’t really know what she’s talking about, but you shrug it off. That is, until Janine comes back into the room and asks for the gossip. Barbara of course goes off, claiming that her friend of over fifteen years trusts her no more than a common street stranger. It becomes apparent to you that whatever hookup situation they’re talking about has been going on for a bit of time now. You feel a nasty pit settle in your stomach at that.

That pit only grows when you go out with the crew after the CPR course to celebrate the fact that you all passed. Of course, conversation leads back to Melissa and Jacob both having sexual relations with people from the firehouse.

“Well, I think I blew that one,” Jacob groans as he finishes off his aperol spritz. “But let’s talk about you, Mel Mel.”

“There ain’t nothin’ to talk about,” the redhead waves him off. “It’s just casual sex.”

“Casual sex that’s been going on for how long?” Barbara asks with a raised brow.

Melissa purses her lips as she thinks. “Couple weeks now?”

“A month,” Jacob cuts in. “C’mon, Melissa. When are you just going to admit that you like him?”

“I do not,” she states very clearly. “I just need something to take the edge off for me, and… he does that.”

“How kinky is it?” Ava asks, a smirk on her face.

Jacob opens his mouth, and Melissa very quickly shoves her hand over his mouth. “You say a word, and you’re out on the curb faster than you were out with Zach.”

The man’s eyes widen, and he nods quickly. She pulls her hand away from his mouth, and he breathes a deep sigh in relief.

“I’m not looking for a relationship or nothing… not unless the right person comes along,” the second grade teacher says as she finishes off her beer.

Barb turns to look at her work wife with a curious face. She knows of the little crush that her best friend has on you. Melissa just nods at the kindergarten teacher’s silent question.

But you don’t take it that way, because you have no idea that Melissa has had her eye on you since before she broke it off with Gary. You see it that you have no chance with your favorite coworker at all.

Feeling as though you could burst into tears at any given moment, you quietly excuse yourself from the rest of the outing and head for your apartment.

“What was that?” Melissa furrows a brow and purses her lips as she gazes in the direction that you left.

“I’m sure it was just a long day for her is all,” Janine tries to come up with some sort of logistical reason as to why you would leave early. “I did have a meeting with her before school even started today, so she’s been up for quite some time.”

Everybody seems to accept that reasoning, and they continue on with their night.

The next day, you march yourself into Ava’s office bright and early.

“Girl, what are you doin? I’m tryna get this knot out of my back,” your principal groans as she shuts off her personal back massager.

“I need your help,” you tell her, not even bothering to acknowledge that she isn’t doing her job at all.

“With?” She leans forward just slightly in her chair.

You smile at her. “I know you know a bunch of people… set me up with someone?”

“Oh, girl,” she laughs. “What’s gotten into you? Every other time I’ve asked if you want someone, you decline!”

“Just… thinking I should get myself out there,” you shrug. “You know? If Melissa can do it, so can I.”

Ava’s jaw drops. “So this is about Melissa.”

“What?”

“I knew you had the hots for her!” the principal grins.

“What? Not! I- I just figured, if everyone else can have at it, so can I?”

“Oh, girl,” she laughs in your face. “This ain’t you at all, but I am in full support of it. Give me til the end of the day, and I’ll have someone for you.”

You end up going out with a woman that night that Ava set you with, and you do end up actually liking her… and she’s pretty damn good in bed.

The next morning, you’re practically glowing while you drink your morning coffee in the break room. Julie, the woman that you ended up in bed with last night, is texting you about maybe meeting up again later this week.

And if you weren’t still in love with the redhead that comes in a few seconds later, you would say yes. Instead, you send her a text that says, Maybe. Kinda busy the next couple weeks.

She texts you back a picture… a rather scandalous picture. And you blush when you see it.

“What’s got you all giddy today?” the redhead asks as she leans over. She sees the picture before you can close out of it, and her eyebrows creep up her head.

“Who’s that?”

You shrug. “Just someone Ava set me up with.”

“Ava?” Melissa asks in disbelief. “How long have you been seeing her?”

“Not long,” you tell her. “It’s just sex, really.”

The redhead folds her arms over her chest. “I didn’t think you were like that.”

“I’m not, but I figured I might as well give it a shot,” you say. “Now, I have to head to my room to finish up some of my grading, but I’ll see you later.”

You don’t have any intention to see her later. And you don’t. You pull back from her and her group- although most of them still find their ways to you. It’s mostly just the redheaded second grade teacher that you avoid. And it happens that way for a few more days.

You’re in the break room heating up your lunch when Ava comes in. “Girl! Are you gonna text Julie back or not?”

Melissa makes her way in, and you sigh. “It’s just sex. I’m not looking for a relationship or nothing… not unless the right person comes along,” you unintentionally repeat what the second grade teacher had said out at the bar. The microwave indicates that your food is finished, and you pull it out before heading back down to your classroom for lunch.

You miss the scowl on Melissa’s face, but Ava sure as hell doesn’t.

“Girl, you jealous or something?” the principal leans in with a smirk.

“What would I be jealous of?”

“That someone else is hitting that hot piece of ass,” Ava says like it’s obvious. The second grade teacher rolls her eyes, but Ava continues. “I see the way you look at her. Practically undressing her with your eyes every time she walks into the room.”

Melissa crosses her arms again. “I can’t believe you set her up with someone if you knew I like her.”

“I was hoping it would give you a swift kick in the ass that she was gonna start hoeing it up,” Ava shrugs. “Now admit that you’re jealous before everyone else comes in here.”

“Okay, I’m jealous,” the redhead relents. “But it don’t matter anyway. She isn’t lookin’ for anyone- she just said that.”

“She said, and I quote, ‘I’m not looking for a relationship or nothing… not unless the right person comes along. And girl, you’re that person for her!”

Everyone else starts filing in, and Ava makes it so that she looks impossibly bored, although she is actually quite the opposite. “Okay, I’m leaving this snooze fest.” She heads out, but not before giving Melissa a subtle wink and tap on the wrist. “Get it, girl.”

That day, Melissa sits thoughtfully during her lunch period about what Ava said… maybe she’s right? But she can’t be sure, so after dismissal duty, the fiery second grade teacher heads down to the front office and bursts into the principal’s office.

“Schemmenti,” Ava grins. “You do it yet?”

“I ain’t doin’ nothin’ until I’m positive Y/N has a thing for me too,” Melissa sits down across from the woman. “So tell me what you know.”

Ava spends a long time telling the redhead about the various times she’s caught you checking Melissa and only Melissa out, how you always seem to linger around her during events, how the two of you are almost always partners for things now and how you being around always makes her soft and you absolutely bask in her warmth. She even confesses that you went down to her office to ask her to set you up because of Melissa.

“You convinced yet?” the principal asks after ten minutes.

Melissa bites her lip. “Yeah. Okay.”

“I’d make a move quick though. She said something about potentially seeing Julie today.”

“Isn’t that going to piss off your friend that Y/N might leave her for me?”

“She ain’t my friend,” Ava says as she files her nails. “I made a dating profile for Y/N and picked the first mildly attractive woman I saw.”

“You’re unbelievable sometimes,” the redhead pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Maybe, but ain’t you gonna go get your girl?”

Melissa stands from her chair and thanks the principal before rushing out and down your hallway. She hopes to catch you before you head out for the night. And of course, because you’re a dedicated teacher, you’re still there prepping for tomorrow. She knocks on your doorframe and leans against it.

“Just a sec!” you reply cheerily, not turning around yet. You’re hands deep in soil for the gardening project that your students will be participating in tomorrow.

“I don’t got a second,” Melissa says. You whip around at her voice.

“Hey,” you sigh, all joy in your voice gone.

“Don’t go out with Julie tonight,” the redhead tells you.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I want you to go out with me instead,” she tells you seriously.

“You’re dating the fire chief,” you deadpan.

“I ain’t dating nobody because the only person I want to date is you,” the redhead admits.

That gets you to drop the dirt that is currently in your hands. “What?”

“I told everyone I was just having casual sex and wasn’t looking for a relationship unless the right person came around because… because the only person I would want to be in a relationship is you, and I didn’t think I had a chance.”

“Melissa, are you an idiot?” You ask her. “I’ve shamelessly flirted with you since you broke it off with Gary and practically thrown myself at you in hopes that you would pick me instead of some random hookup.”

She crosses the room, and she’s kissing you before you even know what’s happening. You instinctively kiss her back, and… wow. When you pull away, you quickly wipe the dirt off of your hands before pulling her in close again.

“Don’t go out with Julie tonight,” she pleads again.

“Don’t go out with the fire chief anymore,” you mumble against her lips.

She nods and mutters, “I already called it off. You cancel on Julie, and meet me at my place?”

You end up at Melissa’s house within the hour, and she wines and dines you. And then you end up in her bed seeing stars. Your legs tremble for what feels like forever before she makes her way back up to you.

“And just so you know,” she husks into your ear. “There ain’t nothin’ casual about this. This ain’t just sex.”

Tags: (and let me know if you want to be included!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary

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whenlilyfallsinlove · 8 months ago

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not today

ant x reader, probably gonna have multiple parts!! i am so in love with him stop.. there's a severe lack of heartbreak high work on here!!!

was it wrong to be in love with your best friend?

you often debated the logistics of this question every night before you fell asleep, when all you could think about was him.

anthony vaughn. your best friend since diapers, the ned to your peter, the ron to your harry and everything in between. you were together that often he had his own place at your dinner table.

it was an unlikely pairing, really. people often deemed ant as an idiot, which sometimes you couldn't refute. he had made lots of stupid decisions over the years, you couldn't deny that.

"YOU THREE DID WHAT?!" you screamed, as ant had a guilty look on his face.

ant, spider and dusty had made up a rumour that amerie had slept with jojo, the teacher of the group you both had been forced to join - SLTs. this resulted in jojo being fired, and a huge protest involving yourself, ant and the rest of the group sleeping in woodsy's office.

"it was dusty's idea!" ant exclaimed, trying to defend himself. he hated when you were mad at him.

"yet you still went along with it?" you scoffed.

"spider did as well." he protested.

"of course he fucking did." you rolled your eyes. as much as you were best friends with ant, you hated his other friends. they were cunts, mostly.

"look (y/n) i'm sorry-"

"i don't think it's me you should be apologising too." you interrupted him, firmly.

ant sighed, and you hated yourself for how you really can't stay mad at him for too long.

"look.. i've already apologised to amerie. we just.. i just.. was mad. SLTs is so boring y'know? and amerie is the reason we're there anyway!" he said.

"it was still wrong of you." you replied, but your eyes softened.

"cmon (y/n), you can't be mad at me forever." ant said, giving you his best puppy dog eyes.

you sighed, and playfully rolled your eyes.

"you're right, i really can't." you groaned and he got up and tackled you into a hug.

"get off of me, you smell awful!" you protested weakly, yet you still wrapped your arms around him.

you were screwed. well and truly.

you, on the other hand, were deemed as someone smart. someone respected. it confused people how you were so close, when you were just so different.

you didn't even want to think about how your friends would react after finding out about your feelings. that's why you told no one.

however, it seemed that you weren't as secretive about your feelings for ant as you thought. amerie's map. you couldn't look him in the eyes for a week after that.

loud voices were heard as you, ant and spider approached what seemed to be the talk of your year group. you looked up to see a map, a map full of names of everyone that you knew.

"what the fuck.." you muttered, your eyes roaming the map, taking it all in.

you see your own name, with lines between dusty and cash. you scoff. it didn't happen. whoever made this clearly relied on rumours that had once gone around about you.

"darren jerked you off.. nice bro, you into dudes now?" spider's voice, directed at ant, brought you from your thoughts.

you looked at the map to see ant's name connected to darren. you raised an eyebrow.

"fuck off spider." you roll edyour eyes.

"what, you jealous?" spider responded, making you clench your jaw.

"still mad i rejected you, yeah?" you replied. ant laughed at your response, making you feel quite proud of yourself.

"bro, ant and (y/n) have that same line between them that mine and amerie have." dusty's voice spoke up, pulling you from your argument with spider.

confused, you looked up to what he's talking about. your eyes widened. he was right. in all your anger about the other lines coming off your name, you had failed to notice the gold line between yours and ant's name.

"what the fuck does that mean?" ant asked, also looking up.

you look to the key.

"destined.." you muttered. you were mortified. destined? how had these mystery map bitches both fed your delusions and humbled you at the same time?

"the fuck does that mean?" ant said. to a normal person, you'd probably be offended that your crush of many years had that response but to you, you didn't care. it was likely he genuinely did not know what it meant.

"you're destined to be together, ain't that cute?" spider teased, smacking ant on the back.

you avoid eye contact with ant for the rest of that day. when it was revealed amerie created the map a small part of you wanted to ask her to elaborate. you still haven't asked ... yet.

you could never confess your feelings for him. there was no way you would. years of friendship would be on the line, if he said no.

you'd wait. wait until it was the right time.

anthony vaughn was your best friend, and you were in love with him.

one day you'd confess.

just not today.

#x reader #fanfic #ant #ant x reader #anthony vaughn #anthony vaughn x reader #anthony vaughn x you #anthony vaughn x y/n #heartbreak high #heartbreak high x reader #heartbreak high x you #spider #amerie #dusty #childhood best friends to lovers #ant x you #ant x y/n

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pinep-ne · 9 days ago

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Mmm. I usually don't get into fandom drama because sometimes it's really just a waste of energy. But TikTok's got some... interesting people. I've noticed a pattern and I hope I have a place to speak on it.

I'm kind of sick of non-Americans/Southerners being blatantly and willingly uneducated towards, or even just entirely ignoring the political+societal themes of rdr2. It's literally the game man. I just think sometimes they really don't feel the weight of the topics they're throwing around.

Why are you calling Charles a "redneck" in a failed attempt to call him another slur, neither of which were you aware were derogatory, nor did you think to educate yourself on the significance of?? And then when people called you out and educated you, you throw out a meager apology with the words "I'm sorry if I offended anyone."

And then proceed to half-ass a google search, post it, and further prove your stupidity by saying "redneck isn't a slur, it's a derogatory term for Americans" which yes, it is— towards white, southern, lower-class Americans, with actual history tied to it. It's still derogatory, and Charles isn't white. And THEN when confronted about it even more, you throw your hands up and say "I just can't make jokes I guess." Like it was never a joke in the first place dude. You're just being racist (and accidentally classist?) on account of your illiteracy.

And this one was just a wild argument I had the other day— why are you calling Micah's racist remarks "not as black and white as that"??? He quite literally says a derogatory term within the first ten minutes of the game. There's a whole four minute youtube video of his racist actions. Joking or not, or whether you think his intentions were to 'rile people up', it's still discriminatory. Racism is often, if not always, as black and white as that. (no pun intended /srs)

Thinking otherwise, I'm tempted to believe, is your own projection. It shows a lot that you'd stretch so far to continuously deny and defend a continuously emphasized theme, that directly affects the characters as it has directly affected real people. Hell, even if it was vaguer than that. How much tolerance are you privileged with to brush off and prance around something that irrevocably damaged entire communities for centuries. Just because it's fiction? 'Cause it's not real? Because "it doesn't affect anyone"?

They also said "He can't be racist! He works with POC!"

???

I'm all for liking and appreciating whatever character you want— I'm not gonna spend my time leading all those horses to water— but snatching and running with the veil of fiction to dissolve the connotations and gravity of a very real thing, simply depicted within a story, just so you can slobber all over your favorite character, it's just undoubtedly shallow and disrespectful to the history and media that you claim to comprehend. You can't just create lines to read between and pull the "have some media literacy" card when someone calls out that you really never had such power in the first place. Like I said, do whatever you want with a character, but at the very least acknowledge every single part of them instead of brushing it off.

Ah anywho. I'm not a POC myself but I am Southern. Racism is still very present here and I felt it'd be important to me to speak up about it. If anyone's got perspective to offer, or they'd like to correct me on anything, I'm open. I think my prose may be a little too flowery to have gotten every point and logistic across, so there's always a chance of misinterpretation. Just let me know!

*** Hh and disclaimers because I'm afraid of misunderstandings. I know racism exists in places outside of the U.S., but the game is placed in America. It's in the context of discrimination against American POC, that some non-Americans tend to poorly gauge the difference and weight of. In neither of these instances were the people from the U.S. And as another thing, this isn't to ignore the treatment other characters receive regarding their culture or country (Sean, Javier, Charles, etc.) by folk who are not a part of it. It's just ignorance. The cycle sickens me. I just think in general if you're going to consume historical fiction and you're going to discuss it, at least understand the historical part. Don't be blissful x

#this isn't entirely exclusive to non-americans either but just uneducated people #but mostly a pattern i've noticedwithin that specific trait...#im so scared right now #rdrtok giving me white hairs #spawn point for braindead fans #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption community #red dead fandom #rdr2 community #charles smith #micah bell #pinethinks

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hanbinics · 2 months ago

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!dealer chris meets !crybaby reader's parents for the first time...

chris stares at the back of your head through the bathroom mirror, watching as your fingers distracted your anxious mind by pulling on his tie for the fifth time now. you’ve been flitting around him in a panic for the last hour—the result of your parents springing the idea of meeting your boyfriend the week before—and while he’s let you get out all these jitters, he can’t help but crack a joke at this point.

“you, uh, thinkin’ ‘m gonna be able to breathe tonight or do i need to be careful about that too? ‘cos you’re doin’ a good job about it,” he teases with a lazy smirk tugging at his lips, watching as you glance up at him sharply. the fact that he’s so casual about tonight is driving you insane, but you take note of the way he lets you fuss over him—staying still when you flatten out nonexistent wrinkles and conceding to your demand of a “breath check”—and you wonder if maybe this means something more to him than he’d like to admit.

“chris, this is serious,” you huff with a frown, stepping back to give him a final once-over.

he looks good. too good. your eyes scan over his button-down shirt (with the sleeves rolled up just a little, because of course they were), dark jeans, clean sneakers. he looks like a boyfriend, a normal boyfriend. no sign of the guy leaning into old frat couches, pockets lined with clear baggies of whatever you need for a fix—within reason, of course.

but you still can’t shake the nerves.

“i am serious, baby.” chris leans back against the sink, arms crossed over his chest as he offers a casual shrug. “your parents are gonna love me,” he insists like it’s the most obvious fact in the world, like he’s telling you the sky is blue, and you feel that same panic from the entire week tugging at your chest.

“they won’t love you if you accidentally mention anything about your job,” you point out with a frown, reaching out for one of his arms to pull him upright again. you ignore the flash of amusement across his handsome features. “i want you to say you’re, like, a manager... for a warehouse. okay?” you breathe out, meeting his stare with expectant eyes.

the brunette blinks down at you. “that’s the best you could come up with?”

“chris,” you whine, your face crumpling with exasperation, but your boyfriend holds his hands up in surrender.

“alright, baby, geez,” he concedes, eyes slightly wide at your dramaticism. “warehouse manager. got it.”

your expression softens slightly once he agrees, but your nerves are nowhere near settled. this is the first time you’ve ever brought someone home to meet your parents—something you haven’t even revealed to chris yet—and the thought of it all makes you break out in a cold sweat. while the brunette is all smartass remarks and street smarts, your parents aren’t. and you really want them to like him.

your heart feels shallow in your chest as you grab your bag on the way out the door, chris’s hand on your lower spine only offering the smallest bit of solace. you wonder if he realizes just how much this means to you or how well you want it to go. you know he cares about you, but is he going to take this as seriously as you want him to? you wish you knew the answer.

as if sensing your anxiety, chris’s hand slides around to press his fingers into your hip and suddenly his mouth is right next to your ear as the two of you head out the door.

“relax, baby. i got this.”

dinner went well. great, actually.

chris slid into the “perfect boyfriend” role so effortlessly that you couldn’t help but be shocked to the core. he called your mom “ma’am,” complimented her cooking without a hint of sarcasm, and even offered to set the table.

and the worst part? he pulled it off like he wasn’t even trying.

“so, chris,” your dad had said after sipping his iced-tea. “you said you work in logistics?”

immediately, your attention had snapped to your boyfriend, eyes widening the slightest bit. it felt like this was the real test, like any second now they were going to see through this entire little act based off chris’s response. you could have hurled your dinner up right there on the table.

“yes, sir,” chris had replied, the title rolling off his tongue smoothly. “mostly warehouse management. lotta moving parts, y’know? keeping track of inventory, shipments... i like to stay organized.”

you almost choked on your water. despite the lie, the way he described his role reminded you a whole lot of how he is when it comes to dealing drugs, only now he was spinning it to be about spreadsheets and shipping schedules. when he glanced at you, there was a glimmer of mischief in his eyes that reminded you of his earlier words: relax, baby. i got this.

“well, that’s impressive,” your dad admitted, nodding his head thoughtfully. “i’m sure it’s a lot of work.”

chris shrugged. “just part of the job, sir.”

you swore you could see him fighting a smirk as he dug into his food once again.

after dinner, chris had offered to help your mom clear the table, and you didn’t miss the way she had beamed at him.

“he’s so polite,” she’d whispered to you in the kitchen while handing you another dish to dry. “he seems very sweet, honey. i was surprised you brought home such a hit for the first time,” she admitted with a quiet laugh.

“mhm,” you murmured back, but your attention was elsewhere.

you couldn’t help but glance into the living room, teeth dug into your bottom lip as you watched chris listen intently to your dad go on and on about the football game on tv. you knew the brunette wasn’t really into sports like that, but he stood there anyway, looking genuinely interested in whatever it was your dad was saying. he’d even laughed at one of his lame jokes.

you shook your head to yourself, a small smile on your lips. he wasn’t just pretending; he was trying.

as you walk to the car with chris, his hands shoved into his pockets, you’re both quiet for a moment. you’re still a little stunned by his performance, truthfully, the events of the night still not quite catching up to you yet.

“you... you really pulled that off,” you finally say, unable to keep the surprise out of your voice. when you glance up at him, he’s grinning as he leans against the car, shrugging his shoulders.

“i told you they’d love me,” he reminds you, reaching out for one of your hands to draw you close enough that he can wrap his arms around your waist instead.

you roll your eyes, but you can’t keep the smile off your face. “they don’t love you,” you shoot back, “but they like you, which is kind of insane,” you admit, tilting your head up slightly to look at him better.

he shrugs, looking away, but his smirk softens into something more gentle, thoughtful. “good. i wanted ‘em too,” he says back, but it’s almost so quiet that you have to echo his words, your heart squeezing in your chest.

“you wanted them to?”

chris scoffs, rolling his eyes. “don’t get all soft on me, kid,” he warns. “i’m just sayin’ that if they mean somethin’ to you, then yeah... it means somethin’ to me.”

you stare at him for a few seconds, feeling completely awestruck. something strangely warm fills your chest, three words on the tip of your tongue like you’re teetering on the edge of a cliff, just waiting to make the jump. you’re looking at him so intensely, and though you haven’t actually said anything, it’s like chris knows exactly what you want to say without hearing it.

the feeling is so overwhelming that you do the only thing you can think of in the moment, which is to lean up and press your lips to his, the kiss warm and gentle with each movement. one of chris’s hands abandons your hips in favor of pressing his fingers into the soft curve of your jaw, his mouth soft but imploring, like he can barely hold himself back from you but he’s trying.

when the two of you finally pull away, you’re both breathing a bit heavier than before, and you wonder if he can hear the quick pace of your heart in your chest, or if he knows that your knees would probably buckle and bring you to the ground right then and there if he wasn’t holding you so tightly.

“thank you,” you mumble softly.

they’re not the words you want to say, and they don’t convey everything you’re feeling for him in the moment, but you relish in the sight of his red-tipped ears and the way his mouth curves up at the corner before he presses one final kiss to your nose and drives you home.

©hanbinics

black divider by @rookthornesartistry.

#©hanbinics #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo drabble #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo blurb #✧.*『chris hours』 !dealer chris #✧.*『chris hours』 !crybaby reader #dividers by strangergraphics

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writteninlunarlight-years · 7 months ago

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Scenarios

I made these two parts because I love all the Hazbin boys, and I am a sucker for this trope. I didn't add pentious because I am not confident writing for him. Val is well, Val. Pt1 Pt2

Husk

Alastor had asked you to accompany Husk to his old casino to see how things were running. You knew it was to punish Husk for something he did or said, but at least you got to be there with him. Husk groaned for the eighth time since you two had left. You could tell he was angry about this arrangement. "You can talk to me, Husk, if you want. Normally you do all the listening, it can be my turn if it will help."

He sighed and grumbled; you nodded and kept pace with him. The old casino was in sight. It still looked like it did in the glory days when you were Husk's soul, not Alastor's. "Well, at least the bastard can keep it looking nice, fucking tormenting me with this shit,"

When you two entered the casino, you were treated by another of Alastors' demons and escorted to the one in charge. Husk was speaking about the logistics while you looked around. Hours had passed, and you were growing tired. You were never good with money and business, and the buzzing and noise of the casino slowly drowned out as you sat at a machine and took a nap.

When Husk wakes you, the Casino is in full swing. A sinner is mad you are taking up a spot. Standing quickly, you move over and stand with Husk. "What is going on?"

"Fucking Al wants the impossible done, is what? We are gonna be stuck here for the night. I couldn't make the numbers work before the casino got busy; they are getting us a room now." He seemed so anxious and mad. You gently grabbed one of his claws, offering a soft squeeze.

"You don't want to play at all?" You were concerned he usually wouldn't give up the chance.

A soft laugh escapes him as he looks at you. He looks very gentle. "Doll, what do you think I was doing to get the numbers up?" You make a silent 'o' and follow him as a new sinner escorts you to the hotel side of the casino. As you ride the elevator up, you look down on all the gambling sinners. That used to be you a long time ago; that used to be Husk.

Once you were left at your door, Husk entered, a gruff thanks coming from him. You kept walking when you slammed your face into a wall of fur. "Husk, what is wrong?" You peeked over and saw it was a miniature replica of Husk's old room, with only one bed for two. "Oh, I see now."

"Fuck this. I will just sleep on the floor," He began to get comfy by the side of the bed. You scoffed and looked at him worriedly, "Husk, no, you will not. Get up and in the bed. We can make this work." He looked flushed for a moment but groaned, knowing that you would move him—you had done it before. He slammed his body on the bed. You sighed and opened the bathroom door. "I am going to shower. You have fur, so you don't need the covers, so they will separate us. All good."

You entered the bathroom, and while you were gone, Husk had a dilemma. He knew the sheets would separate you, but that's what he didn't want; he wanted to feel you and hold you close. Sighing he laid on his back, you soon joined him and climbed in to bed. Some quick goodnight led to the lights off and sleep.

The problem you ran into was it was cold; you could hear Husk's light breathing, and as long as you moved by morning, you could save your dignity and crush on the cat. Gently, you wrapped the blankets from under Husk around him. You scooted closer, nuzzling his fur, and drifted off to sleep.

Come morning, Husk had found you, and he was happy even in this torment Alastor held him in. Slowly, Husk wrapped you in his arms and pulled you on top of him. He caressed your hair and face softly until he, too, went back to sleep. You eventually got up, but till that moment when you did, you two just lay there enjoying the warmth.

Lucifer

You were one of the first sinners to join hell; you watched Lilith and Lucifer's relationship. You had seen pentagram city become a city, you even watched as the other Sins became just that sins. Yet you remained strong, one of the trusted, the exulted. You loved Lucifer more than words could describe. How could you not? You had been there for it all. Yet Lilith was all he could care about; you were his closest friend.

When Lilith left, things were hard. You and Lucifer shared a bed often, and you held him close, comforting him. It never meant more to you than just being a good friend and helping him feel better. You spent countless nights being the best friend you could be and a makeshift mom for Charlie.

When Charlie's hotel opened seven years later, you had given up hope that Lucifer would get over Lilith. So you packed your things and moved to the Hazbin Hotel to help Charlie. You didn't know Lucifer was over Lilith year three or four; he purposefully kept being sad, so you stayed around. That's why when Charlie invited him to the hotel, he jumped at the chance to be by your side again.

There was one problem: while working on building the new hotel, only a few rooms were set up, leaving you and Lucifer to share a room once more. You had noticed his change in mood, and he was a lot more flirty, yet you didn't want to get your hopes up that Lilith was off his mind. You just played back with him, not realizing that come nightfall, you would be alone with him, with one bed—nothing you hadn't done before, right?

"Uh, if you are uncomfortable, I can sleep elsewhere. Otherwise, the castle is still active." He looked so concerned and nervous. Could he feel how you were feeling?

"Uh, no, no, it's fine. We have done this before, right Luci? It's okay." You felt your face warm up in this confined space, and the tension was too much. Like old times, you gently crawled into bed, opening your arms for him.

His eyes widened, and he smiled, crashing into you and rubbing his face in your chest. "I have missed this. Months without being able to do this is far too long."

You blushed brightly and combed his hair. "Months, Luci, what do you mean? Lilith has been gone for years."

He yawned and nuzzled closer, helping you lay down. "No, I meant what I said; I missed you," he looked up at you through his eyelashes. "It has always been you."

You gasped and smiled, tears welling in your eyes. You two wrapped up warm and snuggled in the bed. You both slept the best you had in millennia. Come morning, the whole hotel staff took pictures of how adorable the King of Hell looked while you were holding him.

Vox

You were Vox's best assistant. By best, he meant the only one he couldn't flirt with or hit on because he had one too many dreams about you. More specifically, there are one too many domestic cute dreams. You were his best assistant because he couldn't get mad at you or hate you like he did the others. Damn, did he love seeing you walk around also? He was smitten, and you were good at your job, which made him hopelessly in love.

You weren't too far off yourself. Vox had your heart the moment he helped you pick up all your stuff in the hall at work. He had yet to learn who you were, some lowly intern for Velvette, and he helped you. From that day on, you worked hard to become his personal assistant, hoping to make him see you how you saw him.

Today was a busy day for the Vees. You had gotten Velvette and Val to their designated locations, and now you needed to get Vox to his. Just as the company limo broke down. You sighed and told Vox to wait as you got out and looked at the busted engine. You sighed, calling the mechanics to come pick it up. You looked all over the part of the city you were in and sighed. It will be hard to get a hotel, but not impossible.

You searched the internet, and Vox inevitably came out to lean on the car and keep you company. He wasn't mad at all; ironically, he didn't get much time with you alone. This was nice, almost domestic if you think about it. However, your loud 'aha' ruined the moment. "I found one, Vox!" The way your eyes lit up made him warm. He wanted to make your eyes do that always.

"Find what, kid?" He kept his same gruff, sarcastic voice; he didn't want to risk you finding him out. You just shook your head and started walking; when he didn't join you, a sigh left your lips as you grabbed his hand and dragged him along.

Two blocks down, there was a hotel with a bed left. "Here we are, alright. Here is all your information; you will have access to all amenities. I hope you sleep and rest well, sir." He looked at you, confused. Were you not going with him?

"Uh, are you not coming with me?" He let his guard down a little. He knew this side of town was near the radio demon, and he was worried.

"Oh no, there is only one bed. I will just sleep in the limo!" You were so excited and proud even of your plan. Yet that was halted as he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder.

"Yeah, that's a hard no kid." He walked you into the hotel, keeping your bottom half covered with his suit jacket. Once he had the key, he went up to the room and set you down. Looking around, it was beautiful; it matched his blue well. There was only one bed, though, like you said.

"Vox, really, it will be okay. I was from this side of town before I started working for you guys. I will be okay." You pleaded, not wanting him to know about your silly crush. He just shrugged and locked the door, going to the bathroom to freshen up. You sighed and sat on the bed, kicking your legs and looking around. Vox came back shirtless and cleaned up.

"Your turn." He noticed the blush on your cheeks and puffed out his chest. Smiling, he took his place on the bed, laying back. You went into the bathroom to clean up. Luckily, you keep a spare pair of shorts and a tank top in your bag for emergencies. Changing, you went to the room, seeing Vox spread out.

"Where exactly do I sleep?" He snorted and patted the spot next to him. Slowly, you made your way over, crawling in. Vox sighed and pulled you into him. Your hand rested on his chest, and your head landed on his shoulder.

"Look, I will cut to the chase, kid. I like you, no, I love you. I have been having these dreams about you, not even sexual ones. I want all this domestic shit like cuddling with you." You blushed and smiled, nodding along. Gently, you repositioned you to be comfy against him and you two fell asleep.

In the morning, hours had passed, the limo had been picked up, and you two had ignored all calls from the other two Vees. Vox will deal with it later, just like how he will deal with you losing the title of assistant so he can finally make you his partner.

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c-u-c-koo-4-40k · 2 months ago

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Here's a funny kinda nostalgic post for commenting on.

In Husbandry Warhammer what media normally designed more for kids do Space Marines enjoy? (Aka what media are they latching onto because it is healing their traumatized inner child?)

I'm gonna go through some of my totally unbiased opinions. And if you're favorite legion isn't on here...

Comment it with your thoughts!

Thousand Sons - Take your damn pick there's so much magic based media but of course the Owl House is up there for recent examples.

...some of the Loyalist Thousands Sons do get a bit...existential when the plot line of the tyrannical Emperor Belos gets expanded upon.

Ironically despite its fictional nature Thousand Son or other psycher space marines use certain scenes in it almost like training videos for their offspring.

Ultramarines - You can't Tell me these guys wouldn't like Bob the Builder, and Thomas the Tank Engine. The main characters are Blue and so much of trains and building is logistics! And Cyberspace! Logistics is mostly math so Cyberspace is in there too.

Death Gaurd - Zoboomafo, the focus on flora and fauna is quite enjoyable for marines literally in tune with the cycle of life. Children's shows in general often use simpler language which is easier to understand or translate for Marines still coming to grasp with ancient terran languages. The similarly enjoy The Wild Thornberries

Nightlords - Goosebumps. They LOVE Goosebumps and 'Are you afraid of the Dark?' No I will not explain it.

Blood Angels - Art Attack! Never watched the show myself but Damn it looks fun! And perfect for craft inclined Blood Angels.

Alpha Legion - The animated Carmen Sandiego cartoon! Deception, mystery and most importantly disguises! What more could a hydra want? And Blue Clues...because.

Salamanders - Dragon Tails. Love watching it with their family or kids. The show has a big focus on family itself and giant lizards it's practically made for them! Would probably also like Dinosaur Train.

Emerperors Children - Steven Universe. The art, the music, the messy drama of the characters that makes them weep and the existential dread of being similarly tied to a parent or family that is...complicated.

They find a lot of comfort and catharsis in it.

Black Templars - Veggie Tales. Okay JK kinda they would like that just swap out God for God Emperor. Also...Winnie the Pooh.

Is it just because Pooh is Yellow like their gene father? That's not entirely it but they approve of the little yellow bear who isn't the brightest but he does his Best Okay!

I could also see them using it as another weird allegory for the God Emperor loving and protecting because in quite a few episodes of "The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh," Christopher Robin shows up to help Pooh and Friends out of their predicaments.

Iron Warriors - Reboot! My sister loved this show as a kid, and given its focus on computers/a digital world I could see them enjoying it! Also they like Cyber Space because Math. And...Chip and Dale rescue rangers But! They like it specifically for the scenes with Gadget because she makes cool things and they also want to make cool things/find a way to make them work.

See a video on AstartikTok about an Iron Warrior making a remote controlled roller skate and putting the families pet rat on it.

The rat is unharmed and even seems to enjoy the ride.

Dark Angels - Redwall. God that series gave me Nightmares but it Was still technically a kids show....technically. Also Jane and the Dragon, they like the medical aesthetic.

Space Wolves - No I'm not saying paw patrol. Blue Clues and Bluey! But All the legions have Marines who like Bluey! There's hardly a demographic on this planet that doesn't have a legion of Bluey Fans!

Also the old Tarzan Disney animated series because it was actually pretty damn hot shit! And full of cool action scenes fighting giant frightening animals.

White Scars - My Little Pony Friendship is Magic. Yes because horses, and yes because it espouses the values of community and collaboration and it has a kicking soundtrack. And White Scars are one of the few legions who both accept psychers but also acknowledge their inherent danger. They have a big focus on meditation and not becoming lost to the power you wield and finding support in those around you. They appreciate the similar messaging in the show.

War Hounds and World Eaters - Lazy Town. Because all of them want to become as strong as Sportacus and be able to lift a fuckin pyramid with a grappling hook from an airship!

Please stop them, the Pyramids of Giza need to stay where they are. Don't let them cause an international incident.

Ravengaurd - Ruby Gloom. They enjoy the macabre atmosphere merged with the cheerful main character. Plus the music isn't half bad.

Some tags for ya'll if you wanna jump in! And don't hesitate to comment about legions already mentioned if you've got more ideas about shows they'd like.

@egrets-not-regrets @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @bleedingichorhearts @barn-anon

@kit-williams @bispecsual @angronsjewelbeetle @virozero @sleepyfan-blog @passionofthesith

@beckyninja @felinisnoctis

#c u c koo anon #space marine husbandry #space marine husbandry sentience #c u c koo headcanons

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212-apricity · 2 months ago

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siren songs and stolen kisses, dead calm

ssask masterlist main masterlist

cant take school anymore, i hate boys and im getting my hair highlighted😍😍

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

The warm glow of the setting sun filtered through the overgrown trees surrounding the Chateau as we gathered around the weathered picnic table. Kie, Sarah, and I huddled over Pope’s latest diagram, his attempt at outlining the plan to lower John B into the well.

“It’s... um,” Sarah started, cocking her head at the page.

Kie interrupted, grinning. “It’s something, for sure.”

I laughed, holding up the paper and pointing to a wobbly figure in the middle. “Pope, is this supposed to be John B? Because if it is, he’s looking a little worse for wear.”

“It’s a diagram,” Pope defended, snatching the paper back and holding it protectively. “Not a work of art. You’re lucky I even did this, I’ve got so much revision to do.”

“Did you draw this with your eyes closed?” Sarah teased, leaning in to get a closer look.

Kie was still chuckling when JJ sauntered over, a lopsided grin on his face and that signature confident bounce in his step. “What’s so funny?” he asked, dropping down onto the bench next to me and propping his elbows on the table.

“Pope’s artistic skills,” I answered, still giggling as I motioned to the paper.

JJ took one look at it and let out a dramatic gasp. “Pope, man, this is tragic. This isn’t a diagram; it’s a crime against humanity.”

“You’re a crime against humanity,” Pope muttered, glaring at him.

“Alright, alright,” JJ said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. Then, leaning back and crossing his arms, he smirked. “Hate to ruin the fun, but we’ve got a problem.”

“Of course we do,” Kie muttered.

JJ ignored her, looking directly at John B. “Bro, those gold bars you’re all giggling about? They’ve got wheat symbols on them, no one’s gonna touch ’em. Too traceable. Even the sketchiest buyers will ask questions.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Of course, you’d be the expert in criminal logistics.”

“Thank you, it’s a gift,” JJ shot back, throwing up his hands in mock modesty.

“Okay,” Kie said, crossing her arms and grinning. “I have an idea.”

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

The sound of the furnace roared in the background as Pope’s dad’s workshop turned into a makeshift forge. The gold bars sat in the center of the flames, glowing brighter by the second. The heat was stifling, and sweat clung to everyone’s skin as we watched the transformation take place.

Kie and Pope monitored the melting process while JJ and I slipped outside for some fresh air.

JJ grabbed my hand, tugging me toward the roof of the Chateau. “C’mon, Princess. Best view in the Outer Banks.”

We climbed up, the cool evening breeze instantly relieving the sticky heat of the workshop. From the roof, the world stretched out before us, the ocean glittering in the fading light and the stars beginning to twinkle in the darkening sky.

I sighed, letting the peacefulness of the moment wash over me. JJ, however, couldn’t stay still for long. He leaned back on his elbows, his gaze fixed on me rather than the view.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked, noticing his lingering stare.

“You,” he said simply, his voice soft.

I rolled my eyes, smiling. “Smooth.”

He laughed, leaning closer. “What can I say? I’m a natural.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket, breaking the moment. I pulled it out and frowned when I saw the name on the screen: Gray.

“Who’s that?” JJ asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

I hesitated before answering. “Gray.”

JJ’s relaxed expression shifted immediately. “Why’s he texting you?”

I opened the message, reading aloud. “I don’t know. He said, ‘Hey, you free tomorrow?’”

JJ’s jaw tightened, and I could see the gears turning in his head. “Why’s he asking you that?”

“I don’t know, J,” I said honestly. “I haven’t talked to him in like forever. Not since we broke up like almost a year ago anyway”

JJ raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” I insisted, my voice firm. “It’s probably just a stupid joke or something. Trust me, JJ.”

He studied me for a moment before nodding, though the tension in his shoulders didn’t fully disappear. “Alright, but if he tries anything—”

“You’ll punch him in the throat?” I finished for him, a teasing smile on my lips.

JJ smirked. “Damn right.”

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

JJ was grumbling as we approached the counter, Pope’s plan weighing heavily on his shoulders. “Why do I have to sell this piece of shit? Can’t someone else deal with this?”

“Because you’re the best liar,” Pope said matter-of-factly.

“Flattered,” JJ muttered sarcastically as he offered me his arm to hold.

JJ and I stepped into the dimly lit pawn shop, the bell above the door jingling like an ominous warning. The air inside was stale, carrying the faint scent of cigarette smoke and something metallic. The walls were lined with dusty shelves holding everything from old typewriters to outdated TVs. Behind the counter, a woman in her late 50s, wearing a stained T-shirt and glasses perched on the end of her nose, glanced up from her newspaper.

“Can I help you?” she asked, her tone flat and uninterested.

JJ strode confidently to the counter, pulling the gold nugget out of his pocket and placing it down with a dramatic flourish. “Got something you’re gonna wanna see.”

The woman leaned over, squinting at the piece. She picked it up, turning it under the light, then snorted. “Looks like spray-painted tungsten.”

JJ’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t lose his cool. “Spray -painted tungsten? Oh, come on now. Test it. You know, science and all that.”

The woman rolled her eyes but grabbed a small testing kit from under the counter. As she worked, JJ leaned back on his elbows, looking far too smug for someone in our precarious situation.

I nudged him with my elbow. “Could you act a little less cocky for once?” I whispered.

“Relax,” he whispered back, his lips twitching into a smirk. “I’ve got this under control.”

The woman ran the tests in silence, her frown deepening with each result. When she finally looked up, there was a glint of interest in her eyes. “Where’d you get this?”

JJ didn’t miss a beat. “My mom. It’s all her old jewellry.”

“That’s a lot of earrings,” the woman said skeptically, crossing her arms.

Before JJ could answer, I stepped in, putting on my best look of heartbreak. “It’s been really hard watching my fiance’s mom fall apart with Alzheimer’s,” I said, my voice trembling just enough to sell the lie. “She doesn’t even remember where it came from anymore.”

JJ shot me a sideways glance, his eyebrows raising slightly, but he quickly masked his surprise. The woman seemed to kind of buy it, though. She softened, her gaze flickering between the two of us.

She disappeared into the back, presumably to speak with her boss or prepare an offer. The second she was out of sight, JJ turned to me, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

“Fiancé?” he teased, leaning closer.

I shrugged nonchalantly, hiding my own grin. “Seemed believable.”

JJ chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable. Maybe even a better liar than I am.”

I felt his lips brush against my cheek, a feather-light kiss that made my heart skip a beat. “Looks like I’m a bad influence on you princess,” he murmured.

Before I could respond, the woman returned, holding a clipboard. “Alright,” she said, placing it down on the counter. “Talked to my boss. Let’s talk numbers.”

What followed was a tense back-and-forth negotiation. JJ, ever the smooth talker, leaned into his natural charm and wit, throwing out lines like, “Come on, you’re not gonna find gold like this anywhere else,” and, “You’re practically robbing me at that price.”

Eventually, they settled on a number that was just shy of what we’d hoped for.

“There’s just one problem,” the woman said, her tone turning serious. “I don’t have the cash here. You’ll need to head to the warehouse to finalize the deal.”

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

The Twinkie rattled along the uneven road, the faint hum of its engine the only sound cutting through the night. John B had one hand on the wheel, the other drumming absentmindedly against the dashboard. The rest of us sat in varying states of exhaustion and tension, the adrenaline from the pawnshop still buzzing faintly in the air.

"Alright," John B muttered, leaning back in his seat. "Next stop, the warehouse. We trade this hunk of melted gold for cash, and then we’re golden—pun intended."

Pope groaned from the backseat. "That was terrible, John B."

"You’re terrible," he shot back with a grin, turning around briefly to shoot Pope a look before everyone drifted into meaningless conversations.

The mood was light, for once. Too light. My stomach twisted with a sense of foreboding, like the calm before the storm.

“Hey, is that—” Kie started from the back, leaning forward to peer out the windshield.

“What the hell?” John B muttered, slowing the Twinkie to a crawl.

Before we could process what was happening, bright lights flared behind us. I twisted around to see another car screech to a stop, pulling us over.

“Shit,” JJ hissed, straightening up in his seat. His hands frantically wrapping the gold in a microfibre cloth before shoving it in the under seat as everyone panicked.

The driver of the car in front of us stepped out, his face partially obscured by a skull mask covering the lower half. He was mediu, height, broad-shouldered, and moved with a casual menace that made my skin crawl.

“I don’t like this,” Pope muttered under his breath.

The masked man approached the driver’s side window, tapping the glass with the barrel of a pistol. “Out of the car,” he ordered, his voice muffled but firm.

John B hesitated, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “Look, man, we don’t want any trouble—”

“Did I ask for a fucking speech?” the man snapped, slamming his palm against the window. “Out. Now.”

“Just do it John B,” JJ said, his voice low and urgent. He glanced at me, his jaw tight. “Stay close to me.”

JJ stepped out the car first, his chest puffed out and shoulders squared, a reckless fire blazing in his eyes. "You really think you can just take our shit and walk away?"

Barry stopped mid-step, turning back toward JJ with a slow, mocking chuckle. "Kid, I’ve got a gun, and you’ve got a mouth. Wanna see which one wins?"

“Don’t,” I whispered urgently, grabbing JJ’s arm. His muscles were taut beneath my fingers, trembling with barely-contained rage.

“Listen to the girl,” Barry sneered. “Wouldn’t want pretty boy over here getting hurt.”

JJ’s jaw clenched, his lips pressing into a tight line. For a second, I thought he might actually lunge at Barry.

Barry raised his pistol, aiming it squarely at JJ’s chest. My heart leapt into my throat, a wave of cold panic crashing over me.

“Lie down,” Barry ordered, his voice low and menacing. “All of you. Face down in the ditch. Now.”

We hesitated, glancing at each other.

“Do it!” he barked, firing a warning shot into the air.

The crack of the gunshot made me flinch. JJ’s hand found mine again, squeezing tightly as we moved to lie down in the dirt.

As I pressed my face against the cold gravel, I felt JJ shift closer to me, his body positioned protectively between me and Barry.

Barry’s eyes landed on me and Sarah next to each other, and his smirk returned. “And who do we have here? The little princesses slumming it with the Pogues? You really are scraping the bottom of the barrel, Maybank. You too Routledge.”

“Shut the fuck up,” John B snapped, his voice like a whip.

“Hey, asshole!” JJ suddenly yelled, his voice cutting through the tension. “Say one more thing about her, and I swear—”

“JJ,” I hissed, my heart hammering in my chest with anxiety “Please stop.”

Barry laughed, a cruel sound that made my skin crawl. “Cute. Real cute. Maybe I should take her with me, huh? Teach you a lesson.”

That was the breaking point. JJ surged upward, his fists clenched, but before he could fully rise, Barry kicked him back down.

“Stay down, hero,” Barry growled, pressing the barrel of his gun to JJ’s temple.

JJ froze, his entire body trembling with suppressed fury.

I couldn’t take it anymore. Nor could Kie. “Stop it!” she shouted from her place next to Sarah, her voice cracking. “You’ve got what you want! Just leave us alone!”

Barry glanced at her, his expression unreadable behind the mask. For a moment, I thought he might actually listen.

The ground was cold and damp against my stomach as I lay down, the grass scratching at my skin. JJ was beside me, his hand never letting go of mine. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, so softly I almost didn’t hear it.

Barry turned around and crouched down, inspecting the van. “Now, let’s see what we’ve got here.”

He opened the back doors, rummaging through our stuff with the efficiency of someone who’d done this a hundred times before.

Barry’s grin widened as he took the bag, holding it up like a trophy. “See? Was that so hard?”

JJ’s grip on my hand tightened, and I could feel the anger rolling off him in waves.

As Barry turned back to his car, John B shifted slightly, his eyes darting to the gun Barry had left carelessly on the passenger seat. I knew that look.

“John B,” Sarah and I whispered, our voices barely audible.

But John B was already moving.

He sprang up, diving into Barry’s car and grabbing the gun. Barry spun around, cursing loudly as John B wrestled with him for control.

“Go!” JJ shouted, pulling me to my feet as chaos erupted around us.

John B managed to shove Barry out of the car, sending him sprawling onto the ground. Pope and Kie joined the fray, their fists flying as Barry’s goons tried to intervene.

JJ kept me in his arms the entire time, ready to pull me back from my kicks if Barry tried to hit back whilst JJ’s eyes dart between the fight and the road, calculating our next move.

When Barry finally sat up, his face bloody and his expression furious, he started to speak, but JJ didn’t give him the chance as he let me go and grabbed the gun fron John B.

The crack of the gun’s butt against Barry’s jaw was deafening, silencing everyone for a split second.

“JJ!” Kie yelled, her voice a mix of shock and fear.

But JJ didn’t flinch. He reached down, grabbing Barry’s wallet and pulling out his driver’s license.

“Let’s get out of here guys.” Pope said, flexing his hands from punching Barry.

“One last stop,” he said, his voice cold and unyielding. “Let’s go see where this son of a bitch lives.”

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

The Twinkie rolled to a stop outside Barry’s grimy trailer, the headlights cutting through the shadowy junkyard. The air felt heavy, charged with tension as we stared at the dilapidated house. Scrap metal and rusted car parts were strewn across the yard, and a broken porch light flickered ominously. It was like something out of a bad horror movie.

“Great,” Pope muttered, his voice thick with sarcasm. “Barry lives in a horror movie set.”

JJ ignored him, already halfway out of the van. He held up the wallet he’d snatched during the fight, flipping it open to reveal Barry’s driver’s license. “This is the address.”

“JJ, seriously,” Pope said, following him. “What are you planning to do? You’re gonna knock on the door and ask nicely for our gold back?”

“Not exactly,” JJ replied, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

“Okay, so, what’s the plan?” Sarah asked, her voice a little shaky.

No one answered immediately. JJ was already halfway out of the van, his jaw set in determination.

“Uh, someone should probably…” Kie started, trailing off as she gestured toward JJ’s retreating figure.

“Yeah, got it,” John B and I said in unison, exchanging a quick glance before we scrambled out of the van to follow him.

The air felt thick and stifling as we entered the dark, grimy interior of Barry’s trailer. The smell hit me first—an acrid mix of stale beer, cigarettes, and something rotten. The place was a disaster: empty cans and bottles covered every surface, and the furniture looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years.

JJ didn’t hesitate. He was already rifling through a drawer in the kitchenette, tossing junk aside as he searched.

“JJ, stop,” John B said firmly. “What the hell are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” JJ snapped, pulling out a duffle bag filled with wads of cash.

“This is insane!” John B said, his voice rising. “Stealing money from a drug dealer? You think that’s a good idea?”

JJ slammed the drawer shut and turned to face him. “He stole from us first. Or did you forget that part?”

“This isn’t the way to fix it JJ!” I said, stepping forward. “You’re just making the whole situation worse.”

JJ’s gaze shifted to me, and his jaw tightened. “You wouldn’t understand, Y/n. You’ve never had to worry about this stuff. Everything’s handed to you on a gold platter.” His voice cracked slightly as his frustration boiled over. “You don’t know what it feels like to have the one thing you have slip right through your hands.”

His words hit me like a punch, but I forced myself to stay calm. “No, JJ, I don’t know what that’s like with money. I’ve never had to worry about that.” I stepped closer, my voice softening but firm. “But I’ve had you—all of you—almost slip through my hands way too many times, and I think that’s pretty damn close.”

For a second, his face faltered, and something unspoken flickered in his eyes. But then he turned away, focusing on the next drawer as if he hadn’t heard me.

My heart twisted painfully. I couldn’t stand there and watch him spiral anymore. “Fine, JJ. Do whatever you want,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. Then I turned and walked out of the house.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

The night air felt cooler as I stepped outside, but it did nothing to ease the weight on my chest. The rest of the Pogues were waiting near the van, their faces etched with worry.

“What’s going on?” Pope asked as I approached.

I shook my head, crossing my arms tightly over my chest. “He’s not listening. He’s just—he’s so angry.”

“What’s he even doing in there?” Sarah asked.

“Stealing,” I said bitterly. “Because apparently that’s the solution to all our problems now.”

Pope’s jaw clenched, and Sarah exchanged a nervous glance with him.

“Do you think he’s okay?” Sarah asked, her voice hesitant.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But whatever he’s going through, he won’t let me—or anyone—help him.”

The sound of raised voices from inside the house made us all flinch. I could hear John B yelling something about Barry finding out and JJ snapping back something that probably shouldn’t be repeated.

“God,” I muttered, rubbing my temples.

“They’re gonna kill each other in there,” Pope said grimly.

I glanced at the house, torn between wanting to go back in and knowing it wouldn’t do any good. JJ’s words replayed in my head, sharp and cutting: You wouldn’t understand, Y/n. Everything’s handed to you on a gold platter.

I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my palms, willing the sting of tears to go away. He didn’t mean it—I knew that—but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Maybe we should just leave him,” Pope said, his voice laced with frustration. “Let him figure it out on his own.”

“No,” Kie said firmly, shaking her head. “We don’t leave each other. Not like this.”

Sarah gave me a supportive smile and rested her head on my shoulder, but the tension in the air remained heavy. We all stayed quiet, waiting for whatever was about to happen next.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

When they got back outside, the rest of the Pogues were waiting by the Twinkie, their faces a mix of confusion and concern.

“What the hell is this?” Pope asked, eyeing the bag JJ was carrying.

“It’s called payback,” JJ said, tossing the bag into the van.

“This isn’t what we signed up for,” Pope said, crossing his arms.

JJ whirled on him, his expression hard. “No, Pope, you didn’t sign up for anything. You just sit around and wait for the rest of us to handle it.”

“JJ, what?” Pope shot back.

“You’re acting like a psycho!” Kie shouted.

“No, I’m doing what has to be done,” JJ said, his voice rising.

John B groaned, running a hand through his hair. “What are you gonna do when Barry finds out? Huh? You think he’s just gonna let this slide?”

JJ shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips as he repeats my joke from before but he meant it now. “We punch him in the throat.”

“Yeah, great fucking idea, JJ,” John B said sarcastically, throwing his arms up. “Really solid plan.”

JJ glared at him and after a beat, “I’ll handle it.”

“Yeah, sure,” Pope said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Because you’re so good at thinking things through.”

JJ turned to me after asking everyone else if they’d join him, his eyes blazing. “What about you? You with me or not?”

I hesitated, my chest tightening. “No JJ, this isn’t a good idea. You’re just making it worse for yourself—for all of us.”

His expression darkened, and his voice dropped to a cold, sharp tone. “You know what? I don’t even want to talk to you right now.”

The words hit me like a slap, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Everyone else was quiet, the tension crackling in the air like static.

JJ’s eyes locked onto mine, his jaw tightening as he exclaimed, “Are you even with me? Or are you fucking Gray behind my back?”

My mouth fell open in shock. “What the fuck? JJ, that’s insane!”

“Oh, is it?” he snapped, his voice dripping with bitterness as he nodded.

“JJ, shut the fuck up,” John B said, stepping between us.

“Seriously, dude,” Kie added. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”

JJ’s gaze didn’t waver from mine, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Keep talking like that,” Sarah said, her voice firm, “and you’ll end up all by yourself, JJ.”

JJ’s eyes flickered, something soft and vulnerable breaking through for just a moment. But then the anger returned, and he stepped back, shaking his head. “Fine. I’ll go by myself.”

He grabbed the bag and turned away, pausing just long enough to glance at me. His eyes softened for the briefest second, and I saw something that looked like regret. But then it was gone, replaced by the same stubborn defiance.

I felt tears prick my eyes as he walked away, the weight of his words pressing down on me like a stone.

The rest of us stood in silence, watching him disappear into the night. The sound of the Twinkie’s door slamming echoed in the stillness, and I couldn’t shake the feeling.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

After the chaos at Barry’s house, we all regrouped at The Wreck, needing a neutral place to calm down and figure out our next move. The dimly lit diner felt oddly comforting as we slid into a booth at the back, away from prying eyes.

John B sat at the head of the table, his arms crossed and his face a mix of frustration and exhaustion. Pope fidgeted with the salt shaker, Sarah twirled her straw in her drink, and Kiara leaned back, her arms crossed as she shot annoyed glances toward the door.

JJ, of course, was absent.

“He’s not coming,” Pope said flatly, breaking the silence.

“How do you know?” Kiara asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Because it’s JJ,” Pope replied, his tone edged with annoyance. “He’s probably off somewhere, getting drunk or into more trouble.”

I stayed quiet, sipping my water and staring at the tabletop. I could still hear JJ’s voice in my head, accusing me, doubting me.

“He’ll show up,” John B said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced.

Sarah nudged me gently. “You okay?”

I forced a small smile. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” she said quietly. “What happened back there?”

Before I could answer, Kiara chimed in. “He’s been like this for weeks. It’s like he’s on some self-destructive mission.”

“It’s not just him, though,” Pope said, slamming the salt shaker down. “We’re all risking everything, and for what? Gold we might never see?”

John B rubbed his face. “We’re not quitting now, Pope.”

“No one said anything about quitting,” Kiara said sharply. “But JJ’s spiraling, and if we don’t do something, he’s going to get himself killed or arrested or something.”

The conversation shifted into an argument, voices overlapping as everyone tried to make their point. I stayed silent, my thoughts focused solely on JJ.

“He doesn’t trust me,” I blurted out, cutting through the noise.

Everyone turned to look at me.

“What do you mean?” Sarah asked.

I hesitated, unsure how much to share. “He thinks I’m not with him. That I don’t understand what he’s going through.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Kiara said, frowning.

“Is it, though?” I said quietly. “I don’t know what it’s like to struggle like he does. I don’t know what it’s like to not have a safety net.”

“But you’re here,” Sarah said firmly. “You’ve always been here for him. Even when you weren’t like together together, I’d always see him getting water or a snack or something in our kitchen at night before going back up to your room after his dad…”

I nodded, but the weight in my chest didn’t lessen. “I know, I just… I don’t know if he believes that anymore.”

The table fell silent, the tension thick and suffocating.

“Look, we all love JJ,” John B said finally. “But he needs to work through this himself. We can’t fix him.”

“Maybe not,” I said softly. “But we can still be there for him.”

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

The Twinkie bounced along the dirt road, rattling with every bump, as Y/N, Kie, and Pope returned to the Chateau. The supplies they had packed tightly in the back rattled along with them, preparations for their next trip to the well. Their conversation had been lighthearted, filled with plans and jokes, but as they pulled into the driveway, all chatter came to an abrupt halt.

String lights dangled lazily from the trees, casting a warm glow against the deepening twilight. And in the middle of the yard, a hot tub stood bubbling and lit up like a Christmas tree, steam rising into the cool evening air. The sight was absurd—almost comical—except for the figure lounging in the steaming water with a beer in hand.

“Who the hell is that?” Pope asked, squinting through the windshield as the Twinkie rolled to a stop.

“Better question,” Kie added, her tone sharp, “where did that come from?”

Y/N stepped out first, cautious but curious. The others followed as they moved closer, their pace hesitant. The figure in the hot tub turned toward them, his unsteady grin illuminated by the string lights.

“Guys!” JJ slurred, throwing his arms wide as though greeting long-lost friends. “You’re here! Perfect timing.”

“JJ?” Y/n’s voice was incredulous. “What is this?”

“Are you kidding me?” Pope exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.

“Welcome to paradise!” JJ called out, grinning widely.

“JJ, what the actual hell?” Kiara demanded, storming up to the hot tub. “Where did you even get this?”

“Spent some of Barry’s cash,” JJ said nonchalantly, taking a sip of his beer.

“You what?” Pope yelled.

“Relax,” JJ said, waving him off. “I didn’t spend all of it. Actually no I did.”

“You bought a hot tub?” Pope’s voice rose in disbelief. “You could’ve paid off your restitution with that money!”

“Or given it to, I don’t know, literally any charity,” Kie added, her arms crossing as she shot JJ a withering glare.

JJ’s grin faltered, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. He waved a dismissive hand, the motion unsteady. “Oh, come on. Why are you guys always so serious? I didn’t do that because I got this for you. For our family.”

“JJ, be serious,” Kie pushed, her tone softening only slightly. “You could’ve gotten out from under Barry, from—”

“From what Kie?” JJ’s voice rose sharply. His expression twisted as he stumbled slightly, his grin fully gone now. “From my crap life? From Luke? What, you want me to donate it well I didn’t do that, alright?” JJ shouted, his voice cracking. “I didn’t pay off my restitution, and I didn’t donate it to some fucking charity. I got a hot tub for my friends—no, fuck that, I got a hot tub for my family! I didn’t get this for me! I got it for us! I got it for us because we deserve to have something good! Just one damn thing that’s ours!”

“JJ,” Y/N’s voice was quiet but insistent. She stepped forward, her heart racing as her eyes caught something beneath the glow of the lights. The bruises were stark against his skin, dark and angry splotches decorating his ribs and stomach. A lump formed in her throat as her mind pieced it together. “What happened?”

“Don’t.” JJ’s voice cracked, his hand shooting up in a defensive gesture. He pointed a trembling finger at her, his eyes glassy and defiant. “Don’t look at me like that. Don’t start with the pity, Y/n. I can’t take it. Not from you.”

Pope and Kie’s eyes followed Y/N’s, their own indignation morphing into concern as they registered the injuries.

“JJ,” Pope started, his voice unusually soft. “What happened? Did he…?”

“Shut up Pope,” JJ snapped, his voice rising. He ran a hand through his damp hair, the motion frantic. “It doesn’t matter, okay? I’m fine. I don’t need a lecture or… or your stupid looks. I need you guys to… to just get in the damn hot tub and be happy for once. Can you do that?”

Y/n’s heart broke as she watched him unravel. Without hesitation, she kicked off her shoes and climbed into the hot tub, the warm water soaking through her clothes instantly. She ignored the discomfort, her focus solely on JJ. She reached out and wrapped her arms around him, her touch gentle but firm.

For a moment, he resisted, his body stiff and unyielding. Then, as if a dam had broken, he collapsed into her embrace. His sobs were muffled against her shoulder, raw and unrestrained. “I can’t do it anymore,” he choked out, “I can’t go back there. I was about to… I was gonna kill him, Y/n. I swear to God, I can’t…”

“It’s okay,” Y/n murmured, running her fingers through his damp hair. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

Kie and Pope exchanged a look, their earlier irritation fully replaced with empathy. Without a word, they climbed into the hot tub, their clothes soaking immediately. They joined the embrace, their arms wrapping around JJ and Y/N. The bubbling water swirled around them as they clung to one another, a cocoon of warmth and solidarity in the cool night air.

JJ’s sobs eventually subsided, his breathing evening out as the comfort of his friends enveloped him. For a long time, none of them spoke, their shared grief and love filling the silence. The string lights swayed gently in the breeze, casting their soft glow over the four figures huddled together, holding on as if the world depended on it.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

Later that night, the Chateau was eerily quiet. Kie and Pope had gone home to give us some space, and John B was at Tannyhill with Sarah. I was sitting cross-legged on JJ's bed, finishing up some homework. The soft scratch of the pen on paper was the only sound until the bathroom door creaked open. I glanced up to see JJ shuffling in, wearing a loose T-shirt and sweats, but the bruises on his ribs were still visible beneath the fabric and his hair a wet, tangled mess.

“C’mere,” I said, setting her notebook aside and patting the edge of the bed and grabbing a hairdryer.

He groaned. “Do we have to?”

I rolled my eyes. “Sit down, Maybank.”

He sighed in defeat and sat down with a slight wince. I plugged the hairdryer in, her movements calm and methodical. I raked my fingers gently through his hair as I dried it, the strands puffing up under the warm air. When I pulled back to look, I couldn’t help but laugh at the golden halo.

“Don’t worry,” I teased. “It’ll calm down by morning.”

He tilted his head back to look at me, his blue eyes soft and filled with something I couldn’t quite name. “Thank you.”

I grinned. “For what? Fixing your hair?” I replied lightly, unplugging the dryer and setting it aside. But when I moved to stand, he reached out, his fingers wrapping around my wrist softly.

“No,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “For always being there for me. Even when I treat you like that.”

I turned to face him fully, holding his face in my hands as he leaned in, closing his eyes. “Of course, JJ. I’ll always be here. But you’ve got to make it easier by trusting me. There’s nothing going on between me and Gray. You don’t need to doubt that.”

He nodded, guilt flashing across his face. “I know. I’m sorry, baby. I won’t doubt you again.”

“Good.” I kissed his forehead. “Now, let’s get some sleep.”

We curled up together on the bed, his arms tight around me. As his breathing slowed, he whispered, “I don’t want to go back to that house.” His voice cracked, and I felt my heart break all over again.

“You don’t have to, J,” I promised. “You can stay with me at Tannyhill or here with John B. Wherever you want.”

He pressed a kiss to my temple. “What would I do without you?”

I smiled, brushing my fingers through his hair. “Probably punching people in their throats.”

JJ let out a quiet laugh, the sound warm and genuine despite everything. He pulled back slightly, just enough to press a soft kiss to my lips. It was gentle, a silent thank you that words couldn’t fully express. When we broke apart, he nestled into the crook of my neck, his breath warm against my skin.

Y/n ran her fingers through his now fluffy hair, the scent of coconut and vanilla from her shampoo still lingering. As his breathing slowed and evened out, signalling that he’d fallen asleep, she gazed at him with all the love in her heart. Gently, she kissed the top of his head and whispered into the stillness of the room, “I love you, J.”

Her words hung in the air, unacknowledged but deeply true. She tightened her hold on him, determined to shield him from the world, if only for a little while longer.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

part seven done!!

and friday is taking so long to come, ive got a shit ton of homework and my philosophy teacher hasnt been in or set work online for 2 months so im defo failing mocks in february💖💖

taglist: @harryssideboobz @onelonelybitch @jeyramarie @snowtargaryen

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astaroth1357 · 2 years ago

Text

Witchy Requests: The Reality of Summoning a Demon Lord

Contents: Violence and demons being demonic

~♡♡♡~

Summoning Lucifer

First off, this is not even remotely easy to do.

Lucifer does not get summoned away very often because it takes a witch at least comparable to Solomon's skill to pull it off. Of the small handful of people who can, only a couple are crazy enough to try (so he already knows them all by name).

Not only is this hard to do logistically, Lucifer also HATES being summoned with a burning passion. It messes up his schedule, gives him a pounding headache, and it's pretty humiliating to be ordered about like a dog on a lead.

Anyone summoning Lucifer has put some seriously strong spells in place to keep him in check. It'll take more than a salt circle to stay protected because he'll just blow that crap away with his wings.

It's well known that he will attack the second that the caster gives him the opportunity. Even so much as looking away could leave enough of an opening for him to fry them to a crisp. Extra potent magic chains and bindings are about the only things that ensure safety....

Deals with Lucifer are extremely costly due to how pissed he is just being there. He doesn't stop at their soul. Depending on the day, he could ask for any number of other sacrifices before he so much as lifts a finger. A person summoning Lucifer must be prepared to lose almost everything...

That said, he always fulfills his contracts to the letter and employs very little trickery. If the agreement was unclear, then that's on the summoner. Not him. They get exactly what they asked for.

There was a rumor going around for a time that if Lucifer was summoned with classical music in background, he'd be easier to deal with. Unfortunately, a naive young witch gave it a try and found out that "easier to deal with" Lucifer is still willing take off a hand or two no matter how sophisticated the room sounds.

Solomon has only managed to summon him twice. The first time was in a bid for a pact (which ended in a very wrecked office) and the second was an attempt to ask the questions about Michael that Simeon refused to answer (he let him go pretty quickly after receiving a death glare that would have turned his hair white if it weren't so silvery already).

Summoning Mammon

So like. It's pretty easy to do, but it ain't cheap.

Mammon only shows up if the caster can offer up some serious wealth in return. We're talking sprinkling the summoning circle in gold coins and Rolex watches to make it happen. They don't get to keep any of it, either. He's taking that as the "entrance fee."

Though he's generally a pretty safe summon, Mammon's motivations are directly tied to how much wealth he's gonna make off of their time together. Bribes aren't just encouraged, they're expected, and he gets pissed off if they think he'll do any work for free.

Since he encompasses the sphere of Greed, he sees a lot of witches and the like who summon him for a bit of luck or to increase their chances of acquiring ill-gotten gains. He usually demands a cut of whatever they manage to get from his help, on top of what it already took for him to play ball to begin with.

The only witches who get to skip his exorbitant prices are, unfortunately, the ones whom he already owes money to and it is degrading to say the least... He tries to keep MC out of that as much as possible and he'll straight up toss anyone who brings it up.

There's an urban legend around witching circles that of you can get Mammon to kiss a Grimm and give it to you, you'll have good fortune for an entire year. He doesn't really believe it himself but he still gave one to MC, just in case.

Solomon hasn't ever tried to summon Mammon, though he knows that he could very easily. He's not too tied to wealth or material possessions, so he's never needed his assistance to start with. If he ever summons him now, it's usually just to ask how MC is doing since the two are so close.

Summoning Levi

Often more trouble than it's worth...

Summoning Levi is really only useful for a VERY small handful of problems, nearly all of which concerning the Devil's Sea in some way. He's the only brother with any jurisdiction over it, much less the ability to talk to fish.

The issue is that Levi hates being summoned just as much as Lucifer. It drags him right out of his comfort zone and puts him a space where he feels like he's being judged for how useless he is... Thus, he'll spend the whole time sulking, irritated, and hissing to be left alone.

Levi has to be spoken to with extreme care because setting him off could result in the caster getting crushed by all 200 tons of Lotan then swept away in the flood that comes after.

Those who can appease him with video games and anime fair better, not by much because he gets even more irritated if they get details the wrong or seem like a "fake fan" (yes, unfortunately he gatekeeps 🥲). Only the most otaku of witches are safe from his temper.

In truth, main reason that anyone summons Levi anymore is for nautical travel through the Devil's Sea. The dude is like a living compass with precise latitude and longitudinal coordinates built into his DNA. But asking for that is also a one way ticket to meet Admiral Levi who is even WORSE to be around than the Otaku version...

The first time Solomon summoned Levi, they actually got along pretty well (largely thanks to Solomon's equally copious knowledge of TSL). He was only looking for the scales of a specific sea monster, but the two ended up chatting for a while. He thought that he could have made a pact with him right then and there, but Levi asked if he liked The Magical Ruri Hana and his answer to THAT shut things down instantly...

Summoning Satan

Practically the OG demon to summon despite being around for the least amount of time.

Satan is one of the easier brothers to summon because he spent a few centuries spreading around just how to do so in the human world. He wanted an excuse to leave the House and piss off Lucifer by fucking with humanity. Architect of the Satanic Panic right here.

I suppose you could say that in his younger years, Satan was something akin to a rockstar in witching terms. Even non-witches knew of him, just not a lot of the accurate details.

Satan was really the "ground zero" for humanity's pop culture surrounding demons. He used to use it as a chance to let loose from Lucifer's constant pressure, so he played up the persona of the "charming, charismatic bad boy with a homicidal mean-streak" beautifully.

You would also have to be a lawyer if you wanted to make a solid contract with him. He was wicked smart even back then and put it good use by tormenting the humans more. That classic phrase, "Deal with the Devil" came from the amount of times he'd gleefully screw someone over.

Since then, he's calmed down considerably and is even a little embarrassed about his old persona if anyone brings it up. He's much more refined in his modern day dealings, though he'll still make a nasty deal or two just to keep the humans on their toes.

Satan's fondness for cats is the reason why cats got tied to witchcraft in media. It was common knowledge that if you summoned him with a cat present, then he would be too distracted to give you a bad deal. Ever since then, it just stuck.

Solomon's true first interaction with Satan was when he summoned him one day to get some advice about making a pact with Lucifer... It was one of his worst ideas to date and he still has the mended ribs to show for it.

Summoning Asmo

Very easy with low risk... for the most part.

Asmo LOVES getting summoned out by witches. It feeds his ego something fierce. So he never makes it all that hard to do, however...

Those who summon Asmo quickly learn that it cannot be a one-time thing. Or if it is, it better fucking stay that way.

Asmo ties a lot of self-worth to how "in demand" he is, so after a witch summons him, he'll keep a tally on how long it takes for them to summon him again.

If they do so quickly and regularly? No issues. He couldn’t be happier! If they take too long between summons though...?

Fury. He'll come at them laying curse after curse because how DARE they forget about him like that!! And after, uh... whatever he did to help them out, no less!

Most witches just preemptively make a pact with him since they know that calling on Asmo is more like an ongoing relationship than a simple business transaction.

Ironically, despite the fact that Asmo wants to be summoned so badly, he is incredibly picky about the kinds of work he'll do. He won't do anything that could ruin his manicures, mess up his hair, strain his muscles, dirty his skin, cause a breakout, make him frown-

All of this absolutely stems from that time he was summoned by Solomon and tricked into doing hard labor to build his Temple. You live and learn, then throw the people who treat you poorly into the desert as punishment. Or something like that.

Summoning Beel

A very unwise decision unless you have the resources of a sultan.

Beel isn't exactly hostile by default, if anything he's very easy going all things considered. It's just that his stomach does a lot of the talking in contract arrangements...

After summoning Beel, the caster has to try and keep him fed at all costs. If he's eating, he's docile and easily negotiable. If he's hungry, he will eat them without hesitation. He's just going to go for the most filling thing in the room and, unfortunately, that tends to be the human in front of him.

As long as they have ten or so caterers on speed dial, deals with Beel are very straightforward. He's refreshingly forthright compared to the rest.

Sure, the first thing he usually asks for is permission to eat them, but he can be easily dissuaded by offering up something else to fill his stomach in their place. He's not bloodthirsty, just hungry.

For a short time, it was theorized that summoning both twins at the same time would make their interactions more safe, but that was quickly canned when it was discovered that Belphie would encourage Beel to eat whomever brought them there... He was not a good influence at all.

Solomon did actually try to summon Beel once thinking that he made enough food to keep him satisfied for a talk. Beel didn't even get three bites into his tuna salad before he lost consciousness... When he woke back up in HoL, he didn't have any memory of it and Solomon tactically decided to never mention it again so he could avoid future arguments.

Summoning Belphie

Blacklisted. Not allowed.

For centuries before MC showed up, Belphie was considered one of the most dangerous demons for a human witch to summon. Full stop. Even worse than Lucifer. The guy's bloodlust was unreal.

How exactly was the weakest brother considered the most deadly to interact with, you ask? Cold, hard manipulation.

Belphegor knows he's considered the weakest. He knows that he doesn't look like much of a threat. He even knows how to play into that "sleepy and harmless baby brother" image that he's spent so damn long building up.

Belphie is even better at persuasion than Satan. He can make whoever summons him feel silly, no, embarrassed for ever thinking he was a threat, then attack them when their guard was down.

Even if they keep him contained, his contracts are notoriously filled with wordplay and deceit. At best, he'll twist the terms around so he doesn't actually have to do anything. At worst, it'll become a death warrant with more than just their life on the line...

All of this, of course, was Belphie back when he still hated humans. But even after settling down with MC, he's in no rush to go correcting any records. He quite likes having his nap days uninterrupted, thank you.

One of the most horrifying rumors about summoning Belphegor is that if you sleep afterwards without fully sanctifying the room, he'll possess you in your sleep. There are still witches to this day who travel to the Devildom with sage in their pockets just in case they see him and need to start cleansing the area immediately.

Much like Mammon, Solomon has also never tried to summon Belphie. Sure, he can be somewhat unscrupulous, but even the witty sorcerer knows when the risk outweighs the reward.

Summoning Diavolo

Really only possible in theory because there has never been a successful attempt.

No one is very sure why all attempts to summon the Demon Prince crash and burn so easily. Solomon himself as spent centuries trying to work out the logistics.

Is there just no sacrifice comparable enough to bring out a being of his magnitude?

Are the sigils and chants required so ancient and esoteric that they've long been forgotten by mortal minds?

Do the summoning circles work but Diavolo, by the nature of his power and authority, just "opts out" of showing up if he feels like it?

Solomon has tried summoning Dia numerous times and every attempt has left him with nothing but wasted materials and broken dreams. This is basically his white whale. Don't bring it up or he'll get pouty.

Summoning Barbatos

Another unwise decision that leaves many with nightmares years later.

Barbatos is an... interesting case to summon. Like Lucifer, the caster has to be incredibly talented. Though unlike Lucifer, Barbatos doesn't react with such upfront vitriol.

To be clear, he is NOT happy. He is NEVER happy to be called away so suddenly from his lord. But it comes across more like a frigid aura of contempt and malice than the white hot hostility of all the others.

Put simply, it just feels like you royally fucked up in ways you can't even process.

The most unnerving thing about accepting a contract with Barbatos is that he will always agree to whatever is asked for with no complaint, but he'll never say what he wants in return.

The terms of all demonic contracts are that whatever is asked must be balanced by an equal sacrifice, but since Barbs NEVER identifies what he plans on taking, it leaves the caster to wonder what they've loss...

Every bad event from then on gets overanalyzed to the point of paranoia where the caster victim tries to identify if their debt has finally been paid or if he may still come to them one day and demand what he's owed...

Solomon doesn't know it, but a popular theory among his peers is that what Barbs took in exchange for their pact was his mortality in hopes that the centuries of loss and isolation would make him go insane. It's a silly little rumor, but it does still make Barbs chuckle whenever he hears it...

#gearing up for nightbringer #obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me hc #obey me scenarios #obey me solomon #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo

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