#he will not be forgetting any time soon how to fuck with a Summoning

[evilminji]

Speaking of Summoning?

We don't see people fuck it up enough. Or CAPTIVES deliberately fuck up their captor's work. Like? Yeah, you are hogtied so tight you look three parts chain to one part man, but you can still WIGGLE.

Aggressively wiggle over that rune until it's too blurry to function! Kick at it with your heel until you scrape the paint! Smear that shit around! You're not here because you WANT to be! Fuck being a polite hostage. Make their life difficult!!!

Or BETTER?

The "$4000 bucks for chalk" take!

It's not the MATERIALS that make John "fuck you" Constantine a force to reckoned with. It's the DECADES of time, training, mistakes, fuck ups, FIXING those mistakes and fuck ups, then surviving the resulting fires.

Any idiot with a voice and some poor impulse control, can use most of those books.

John is GOOD at what he does, because he SURVIVED it. Knows when to stop. What to fuck up on purpose. HOW to do it. And what the results will be.

You're not impressive because you can light your dick on fire with magic.

You're just an idiot.

And when some "you are held back by your FEAR~!" Delusions of grandure fucko, one AGAIN crawls out of the muck like he's something God damned special, and not on the quick bus to a gory unspeakable end? Plays fast and loose with things that SHOULD NOT be let free? Yeah, John exhausts himself keeping millions of people from learning what the inside of Hell looks like.

Wakes up here.

Honestly surprised he wakes up at all.

Most of Dark is here. And Every Single One looks UNSPEAKABLY pissed. Like they got chewed on by a tree thrasher. That was probably on fire, given half the burns he's seeing.

The bastards monologuing, probably thinks they're hanging off his every word. Arrogant prick. Mostly though it's just intense eye contact and eyebrow charades over gags. Head gestures. Seeing who has what and if anyone's concussed. Honestly? You get good at shit like this, after a few too many times bound and gagged.

First mistake always is and has been, not killing them when you had the chance.

But... Zatanna is looking way too pale. And when she sharply gestures with her head? He sees WHY.

Blood on the floor. Not random. Just shitty, shitty writing and no binding agents. Oh sweet merciful fuck. It's not even CHARGED. No grooves to HOLD the blood in a way to keep most of it away from the air. Just splatter painted with some cheap brush on the unscrubbed floor, mixing and contaminated by god knows what, IN LAYERS.

Because it keeps drying.

Because OF COURSE IT KEEPS DRYING, YOU FUCK.

You are DOING IT WRONG.

Is he using THEIR blood? Oh sweet fuck he is. Are you ser-!? One of them is a CHIMPANZEE! Blood's blood literally changes! John's is fucked up! This idiot really things you can just slap it down like PAINT and trot off on your merry lil way, doesn't he? Why don't you just throw "Chemicals" at it next! Big ol bag of whatevers on hand!

At least he has people to share his outrage and horror with.

Oh god, is he STILL talking? Really. REALLY? How long has he...?

Wait. WHAT.

Crazy pants has "found" (more likely was lead by the nose too) a way to True Name Summoning people?! As in "kidnap from literally anywhere and bind them to your will, because unlike normal Summoning Targets they can't fuck off back home under their own power, so it's either submit or stay trapped until you die"??! Oh fuck. Oh shit, oh fuck.

And, OF COURSE, he's going to TEST his new fun trick?

On the Justice League.

Fucker, turns and starts chanting. John is closet, but everyone throws themselves forward. Even though none of them can really move, they have too TRY. His eyes shoot around the shit writing. Trying desperately to make out familiar symbols. Anything. Something. THERE!

He never thought he'd be grateful for all those far too drunk nights and pounding morning hangovers. But he is FAST wiggling across the floor, scrunching and swinging himself around, too sharply scrape the heel of his boot at the concrete floor, just inside that omenious off color Summoning. The layers of blood, painted down again and again to keep the "fresh", stick together like paint chips. Are raised just enough, his shoe tred catches, and all but pops the rune he's aiming for clean off.

Power surges as the spell completes.

He yanks his foot back before he runs the risk of losing it.

The light flares. And between one moment and the next? There are white hazmat boot standing just on the other side of the writen line, from John's face. He looks up into a young, pallet swapped, face. Nightwing, younger then he should be, wrong colors, different uniform. Confused look on his face quickly melting to that familiar "someone's about to get their ass kicked" look as he assesses the situation.

John grins like the MEANEST lil shark. (And yes, he DID steal this look of an ex.)

It WORKED.

Because half the people behind the kid? Not THEIR League. Hero's, yeah, he left that rune alone. But the "civilian identity" that was tied up in the "of this reality" one? Whoops! Guess it was forced to grab any applicable version of the Hero, from the Multiverse, who WASN'T currently off duty. Sure hope your bindings work on THEM!

AND it didn't tip off every single hero OFF duty!

The kid steps over the binding line, bends down, and snaps the chains around John with his bare hands. Offers him a hand up. He takes it. Gets a front row view of alternate versions of his colleges testing to see who is and isn't able to step out. Quiet a few are. Oh dear~, oh dear~. All these Heros! What's a lad to do, huh chucklefuck?

They would like a word.

@nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @hypewinter @hdgnj @mutable-manifestation @lolottes @babbling-babull

[madelynraemunson]

pass the salt • e.m. smut

DAD’S BEST FRIEND!OLDER!EDDIE x FEM!READER

part two here

summary: you’re home from college and staying with your dad for the summer, spending as much time as you possibly can with him…and his hot best friend that you’ve never seen in your life.

authors note: okay have you guys ever seen those text posts like “when you say ‘daddy pass the salt please’ and your father and your man both reach for it” 💀💀 well this is inspired by that concept. also i went overboard and this is a LONG BOI

disclaimers — photo credits to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple 🫶🏼porn with plot, reader’s nickname is “sunshine”, reader has female anatomy, race unspecified, divider: @iluvpooks

NSFW — 18+ obv, porn with plot, daddy kink pls keep scrolling if it’s not ur thing, slight age gap (eddie is mid to late 30s, reader is in her early 20s), corruption kink, size kink, masturbation (m&f), p in v sex (protected), dirty talk, teasing, sexual innuendos, extreme flirting, eddie kinda being a perv, praise kink

The sound of breakfast on the griddle summons you downstairs.

Dad never cooks.

For as long as you can remember, weekends at your dad’s have always consisted of Lucky Charms cereal and powdered donuts. That tradition continued even after you started college.

Oh yeah. Someone is here, alright. Someone Dad desperately wants to impress.

Trailing after the commotion, your fuzzy pink slippers guide you down the wooden steps of your dad’s ‘bachelor pad’ and into the kitchen. And when you near the bottom of the steps, you can make out two distinct voices — one belonging to Dad, another belonging to someone who's identity is obscure.

“God, I fucking missed you, Jeff. Missed everyone so much.”

The smells of pancake batter, cigarette smoke, mint, and petroleum fuel reel you in, but not nearly as much as the sight of the man sitting on the opposite side of your dad. He's built, handsome with wavy brown hair, leather, black denim, twiddling a toothpick between his teeth as he listens to your dad speak with a smile on his face. That is, until you come into sight. It then that his intense focus circles in on you.

Funny. You don’t remember this friend. And something in your gut tells you that you won’t ever be forgetting him after this.

The stranger's grin curls into a wonder-filled smirk. You can feel your knees start to buckle.

“Uh oh. Looks like our shenanigans woke up Sleeping Beauty.”

When you get a closer look at Dad’s friend, you observe his faint brown beard — neatly kept and lightly peppered with some gray — delicious lips, shiny white teeth, and grooves along his laugh lines that would deepen with every theatrical cackle he belted out.

You can't help but freeze in your tracks as him and your dad continue on with their banter, reliving their glory days like it was yesterday. Man. What a damn dreamboat.

Your dad’s eyes light up with glee when he sees you.

“Hey, good morning, Sunshine!” Dad cheers. “Thought you’d never wake up. This is my friend Eddie. We were in that band together in high school. Come say hi.”

"Yeah, come say hi," Eddie agrees. feeding into the obvious tension in the room. "I don't bite."

The stranger laughs at his own comment as soon as he utters it.

There’s a charm — a magic — about Eddie that could only be found in Hollywood or the Big City. But of course, you didn't expect any less from Dad's supposed ‘Rockstar Friend’.

When your parents had you at 17, life went on for Dad’s band Corroded Coffin. And although he missed out on the ‘Sex, Drugs, and Rock&Roll’, Dad insists that tea parties and white picket fences were an ideal trade-off. Because — despite how things ended with Mom — it still meant a life spent with you.

You tell him your name as Eddie offers you his hand to shake. Electricity serges through you when your hand is enveloped by his firm, calloused one. Eddie smiles down at you, his presence all-consuming. It's almost as if he knows it. And as much as you were dying to, you resist the urge to fall into him.

Eddie's no better.

It takes everything in Eddie's power to keep his eyes above your collarbones, reprimanding himself with the utmost tedium. Because heaven knows he'd be TOAST if his best friend found out that Eddie thought that you were absolutely stunning — strutting around the house the way that you do, without a bra underneath that poor excuse of a sleep shirt — a sleep shirt far too tight for your own good. With tight, pajama shorts to match…

Of course, this is all an assumption…Not that he caught wind of it or anything.

“You know…” he mentions. “Your dad has told me SO much about little miss Sunshine.”

“Me, really?” is all you can say behind those fuscia cheeks.

“Really,” Eddie insists. “He never shuts up about you, darling.”

“Hopefully you’ve only heard good things,” you mutter faintly.

And instantly, your dad and Eddie share a laugh.

“Only good things,” Eddie assures you. He nudges your dad playfully.

Your dad doesn’t exactly deny the last part, basically confirming to Eddie that you’ve got a hint of spunk to you. The heat settles at your cheeks as you shy away from your father’s curious friend.

Taking note of how timid you’ve just become, Eddie furrows his brows.

“What — was that an implication that you’re not always good?”

“No comment,” your smile melts into an awkward one.

“Kept me on my toes back then,” your dad reflects with a sigh. “Keeps me on my toes now.”

“You don’t say…” Eddie smirks slightly, gaze panning back over to you.

Eventually your dad leaves you two alone, going into the garage to fetch something that he insists Eddie would like. But little did he know that such thing was already in the room, leaning…reaching into the fridge for some orange juice, not realizing its atmosphere caused your nipples to harden.

Eddie’s eyes proceed to follow you as you strut back to the griddle, flipping some hot cakes over before tending to your messy bedhead.

Eddie probably doesn’t know — or maybe he does, who knows? — that you feel him staring at you. It’s a burning gaze that practically impales you, but you’re too nervous to say anything. You’re better off pretending like it’s something you don’t notice.

You and Eddie continue to help yourselves to breakfast, enjoying the company of each other and your mutual silence. That is, until Eddie speaks up.

“Got some sausage for you if you’d like.”

“I’m sorry?” you sputter, looking up from your food.

Eddie shoots you a weird glance as he holds up some breakfast franks.

“Sausage?” he repeats. “Store was out of beef so I settled for turkey. Hope that’s not a problem.”

“Not at all,” you clear your throat. “I love turkey sausage.”

“Okay, good,” Eddie chuckles, seemingly relieved at how quickly the situation had diffused.

“Cool,” you chuckle with him while taking some links to cook.

The silence returns once more and is replaced by the sizzling of the grill. It’s short lived, however, because soon, the man nearly twice your age speaks again.

“What’d you think I said?” Eddie circles back.

“Nothing, why?”

“You just looked stunned.”

“I just woke up,” you shrug. “My mind’s somewhere else.”

“I can tell,” he smirks. “Get that thing out of the gutter.”

The coming days paved way for some more innocent flirting.

…Like when you make sure to wear the shortest skirt in your closet when running Eddie his afternoon beer in the garage.

“Well don’t you look absolutely darling…” he says as he peers up from his guitar.

“Hehe,” you smirk connivingly. “Thank you!”

“You are so welcome.”

Eddie downs the liquid guilt along with his pride, watching you strut around…the hem of that pleated cotton fabric just barely covering the roundness of your asscheeks. And as you blush a rosy pink when you process his little remarks, Eddie can only clear his throat in arousal, fantasizing about just how badly he wanted to turn your other cheeks that very shade.

…Or when you come downstairs the next day to help Dad manually wash his car.

While he and Eddie are harassing each other with soap and that god-forsaken hose, you decide to join in on all the fun.

“Watch out, Sunshine,” Eddie forewarns. “You’ve just entered the splash zone!”

And with the intention of cooling you off on a hot summer day like this, Eddie teasingly sprays you with said hose, your white shirt becoming transparent when lathered with water. He could see everything. Your erect nipples. Your perky tits bouncing in the sunlight as you jump around in excitement. How glazed your oil-nnuendo’ed skin looked when glimmering in the sun. All as intended.

“You got me,” you surrender yourself to him. “You got me good, Eddie.”

And when you walk away, Eddie mutters slyly to himself.

“Yes, yes I did.”

…And then there’s dessert after dinner.

Eddie watches as you lick your popsicle, his fingers curling at his thighs in arousal as you retract the wrapper before enclosing your lips around the bright pink dessert. And he swears he’s going to blow his pants when he envisions the melted sugar shooting into your mouth with the swiftest hollowing of your cheeks, the quiet suction noise you make with your pursed lips forcing him to adjust the way he’s sitting.

…The final instance takes the cake.

“What’s your major?”

You’re in the home library grazing some of Dad’s old books and vinyls, talking to Eddie while your father gets ready for the day. Meanwhile, Eddie is perched at your dad’s desk, rolling around in his expensive swivel chair and occasionally doing some spins on it to make you laugh.

“History.”

“Sounds boring.”

“You just haven’t found a topic that interests you,” you point out.

“Mm,” is all Eddie says. “Maybe I will eventually.”

Eddie watches as you waltz around in front of him, following your movements with his eyes as you get onto your tippy-toes in order to grab some books on the top shelf.

“Oh my god!” you yelp.

Your plan to entice him seemingly fails when you graze a book that’s halfway off the shelf. It’s already flying off of its platform, headed straight towards Eddie's lap before you can even stop it.

Eddie catches it before any damage can be done, saving Dad’s old campaign book with the hand furthest from you and snaking the other around your waist to prevent you from sinking any further into him.

Phew. Crisis averted.

Your eyes meet again.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie,” you gasp in embarrassment. “That book has a mind of its own.”

“You’re fine,” Eddie laughs. “Can’t defy the laws of gravity. Sometimes it betrays us.”

You feel yourself burning up a fever. Excusing yourself from the room, you leave Dad’s library and make your way over to the kitchen for a glass of water.

But you’re nearly taken aback when you feel tight, calloused hands wrap around your hips, and like a feather it’s like you’re whisked away into the air, and soon your body is pressed up against the wall.

Slam!

Breathing heavily against each other now — chest to chest, lips so unbearably close you can smell the whiskey — Eddie draws you even closer to him. You both study each other intently. It’s like you’re waiting for the other to say something. Eddie does the honors and speaks first.

“I wasn’t born last night, doll. I was also your age at one point.”

———

To his own despair, Eddie touches himself later that night. Facing your room, he strokes his rock hard cock with his lotioned-up hand, running his thumb across the slit of his head, pretending it’s your tongue giving him a little tease like you did the popsicle.

“Fuuuck,” he grunts quietly. “You like when I fuck your throat, baby? Gonna suck me dry with that pretty little mouth of yours?”

You’re playing make-believe just as much. Because at the same time, in your room, you’re a drooling, pathetic mess, riding your wall-mounted toy to oblivion in your bathroom, legs trembling when the thick, veiny piece of silicone slams into the spongy part of your heat, initiating shock-waves all across your body.

“Eddie,” you find yourself blubbering. “EddieEddieEddieEddie…”

You both know it can’t be like this, but that was the mere thrill of it all. And when you both have overcome your peak, just one mere wall apart, the floodgates of guilt outweighs both your arousals the way it comes pouring in.

So, so wrong. But oh, so right.

You’re anticipating…waiting…aching for Eddie to make the next move.

He doesn’t.

“Going to the store again,” Eddie announces. “Hopefully this time they’ll have beef sausage. Need anything?”

Need you, is what you think. But you end up shaking your head, a part of you disappointed that you and Eddie won’t be able to spend some time alone together.

“No,” there’s defeat in your voice.

“Are you sure?” Eddie questions softly.

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Okay,” he gives you a grin, one in the form of a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll be right back. You be good.”

“Ha-ha,” you roll your eyes.

——

Eddie leaves the door of his room open that night. Just a smidge. You end up following the sound of his TV that he’s placed at a low volume, making out that it’s Seinfeld just by Jerry’s voice and the laugh track.

Your heart skips a beat as Eddie laughs along with the show, shaking his head at a stupid joke. But he shifts his focus immediately onto you when he sees you at the doorway.

“Having some alone time tonight?” you ask him.

“Mmm…not by choice,” he responds. “Tuckered your dad out after dinner doing P90X.”

Eddie follows a crazy workout routine. He says that it helps with his stamina, especially when he does crowd work during his stage performances. Your mind can’t help but wonder what else he may be using it for.

You snort. “Yeah. Dad wasn’t what you’d call an athlete in high school.”

Eddie laughs at that too. Both you and him know that.

He then pats the space on his bed beside him. “Wanna come watch with me?”

Your stomach does a series of cartwheels when you process Eddie’s question. You know what’s bound to happen if you follow through. And it seems Eddie knows it too. Even if there wasn’t any sexual tension between you both already, the concept of it all would rub anyone that way.

But you still follow through with it. Just like Eddie knew you would.

“You comfortable?” Eddie asks you, eyeing you endearingly as you squirm around on the bed.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

“Good…” he replies, voice nearly at a strained whisper now.

You two watch the show in silence for a few minutes, exchanging commentary and pleasantries regarding the show every so often. It’s not too long after Eddie pulls a laugh from you that he starts closing up the space between you both, scooting himself closer…and resting his gruff palm over the base of your knee.

You inhale sharply as he does so. And evident by your refusal to pull away, it’s enough of a green light for Eddie to hike up further.

A soft moan escapes your mouth from the back of your flustered throat, but you bite your lip in restraint.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"For what?”

You shrug sheepishly as Eddie continues to graze your thigh. Your breathing falters even more.

“Don’t be scared,” Eddie coos.

“I’m not,” you insist.

“Then what’s stopping you from getting on top of me? Hm?”

He’s in between your legs now, the rough material of his denim jeans riding up your sex, teasing your clit with every calculated rub against it.

“And riding my rock hard cock til those pretty legs give out?” Eddie continues. “I see how you’ve been looking at me, doll. It's all over your face how bad you want it.”

“The bed is squeaky,” you answer honestly. “And that headboard is a lost cause.”

Eddie puts the dirty talk on pause, squirming around to assess the guest bed’s squeak factor. When it checks out, he gives you an understanding nod. You giggle.

Eddie wastes no more time. You watch as he grabs one of the pillows on the bed and wedges it between the wall and headboard. He issues you a sly smile.

“Oldest trick in the book.”

You're back to fooling around shortly after, your aching core burning with lust as you pine for him.

“The boys at school ever touch you this good?” Eddie quips rubbing circles around your puffy, needy folds as you hopelessly cling to him out of pleasure.

“No, Eddie.”

“Didn’t think so.”

He continues to tease, gliding his fingers along your slit before slowly inserting two large digits inside of you.

His calculated pumps into your needy pussy are steady, a pace so agonizingly beautiful that it makes you squeal sweet nothings into the crook of his neck.

"Shh, baby," Eddie hushes you. "Your dad's gonna hear us. Gotta be quiet for me, mkay?"

Your hot, messy, and muffled sounds cease as Eddie soothes your quivering lips with his tender ones.

The wet sounds that ricochet and fill the room in tandem is almost enough to send him over. And Eddie is sure to communicate that… with an abrupt curving of his three thick fingers.

Fuck.

Needing him direly now, you tug helplessly at his pants.

“God, Eddie,” you whimper. “Just fuck me already. Please.”

Eddie laughs at the desperation. He hasn’t ravaged you to his fullest extent yet, and you’re already a pooling mess beside him.

“Well since you said please, sweet girl,” Eddie obliges as he starts to undress himself. “Your wish is my command."

You watch Eddie as reaches over into the bedside drawer for a fresh box of condoms. Looks like the sausage links weren't the only things he went to the store for.

“Oh.”

Eddie chuckles at your observation before shrugging. Can you really blame him? You both knew what was coming.

You watch with absolute lust as Eddie slides the piece of rubber over his long, girthy, throbbing cock. He’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever had before, and the snarky, hooded-eye smile as he watches you fawn reveals to you that he knows exactly how to use it.

"On your stomach, babygirl. Will have you all nice and pounded out just like you wanted.”

You situate yourself in prone and spread your legs for Eddie to line himself up against them. He teases his wrapped cock against the entrance of your pussy, and when his soothing countdown is over, your lips part in disposition as you accommodate his ruinous stretch.

A throaty moan spills out of the both of you the moment Eddie snaps his hips in and out of you. Meanwhile, one of his hands lays tauntingly at your stomach, so the prideful man can feel himself wriggling inside you, glazing his shaft with your slick more and more with every pump into your weak cunt.

"Fuck, Eddie... yes..." you mewl. "R-right there, Eddie, please..."

And then it picks up. You can feel Eddie’s hips practically collapse right onto you, his balls slapping against you as he digs further into your body.

"God damn..." the man sighs in disbelief.

He can only beam down at you in awe. You were taking him so good, pussy swallowing him so nice and tight. And when you nestle your ankles between each other to keep him there in prone, the nearly cries out in pleasure, but refrains because he knows your dad is resting — just a thin wall over.

That still doesn’t stop him from going to town though. Practically seeing stars, the broken record of a mouth that belongs to you chants Eddie’s name like it’s all you know. Eddie attempts to keep you contained, offering you his fingers to suck on as he’s railing you dumb.

And when he fucks you through your climax, Eddie continues with his string of lust-filled praises, satisfied at himself that he was able to make you wet enough to soak the mattress.

“Did so good for me, angel,” he praises you as he sucks at your temple. “Always knew you weren’t all that innocent.”

The griddle comes out again on Eddie’s last day. But this time, for a homestyle southern dinner.

You and Eddie were on mashed potatoes and gravy duty at the stove, an ordeal that only opened doors for lots of innuendos on Eddie’s part. Meanwhile, Dad insisted on making the rest, having taken pride in continuing his Mama’s legacy.

“This is amazing, Daddy,” you rave. “I really missed this. Do you mind passing the salt, please?”

And to your horror, you watch as your father and Eddie automatically extend their arms, bumping into one another in the process en route to getting you the salt.

The gentlemen meet each other’s eyes.

“Ohp!” Eddie exclaims, letting out a slight chuckle. “Sorry.”

You try your hardest not to blush. Eddie kicks you from under the table, and softly he oh-so-seductively he mutters,

“I was just tryna help her out.”

[syluss-slut]

•°•°•Safe Embrace°•°•

Summary: your uterus pulls a fuck you by starting your period early even if you just had one two weeks ago, but your 6'2 boyfie is here to cuddle the pain away.

Pairings: Sylus×Reader ⚡

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, mention of period pain.

A/n: yearning is at an all-time high rn. LIKEYOU DON'T UNDERSTAND I NEED THIS MAN SO BAD HNSGBFBSHDNBHSN

You walked towards sylus's room in heavy steps. You were even surprised your body could hold on for that long.

Your period took you by surprise, coming back again after not even two weeks. Beauty of womanhood, isn't it? You spoiled your favourite pajama pants because of that and on top of all this, it was a heavy flow. In the middle of a productive week. Could it get any worse?

You knocked on his bedroom door, sylus taking not even a second knock to open it for you. As soon as the door opened, you managed to take one step in and collapsed right after. (Un)surprisingly, you didn't hit the floor, but rather found yourself in sylus' safe embrace, as he caught you just in time.

As he brought you to the bed, you silently start weeping in his chest. Tears run down your face due to the pain you were in.

Alarmed, "what's wrong, kitten?" Sylus enquires, a soft look in his eyes, concern in his voice.

Somehow, it made you cry even more. Your period hormones were driving you crazy.

He sits down on the bed, with you in his arms and now on his lap. One of his hand is on your back, soothing you and the other holds up your chin.

"Talk to me. What is it, sweetie?" He asks, a gentle tone in his voice that you've rarely ever heard him use with anybody other than you.

"Menses" you replied, in a feeble voice through tears.

"You poor thing" sylus thinks to himself.

"Let me get you some painkillers" he says, laying you down. You grab the sleeve of his gray sweater just as he walked out of your reach, making him turn around.

"Stay with me. Please" you croaked.

Wordlessly, sylus slips under the sheets beside you, engulfing you in a hug, making you the smaller spoon.

His large hand is in your hair, massaging slowly, lulling you into sleep.

"Thank you" your voice comes out muffled as you snuggled further into his chest.

With the feeling of being in a safe embrace and under warm sheets, you finally dose off to sleep, the last thing you remember being sylus' lips as he pressed a soft kiss on your forehead.

•°•°•°(⁠っ⁠˘⁠з⁠(⁠˘⁠⌣⁠˘⁠ ⁠)•°•°•°•

When your eyes open, you don't know how much time has passed, but the first thing you acknowledge is the sheets beside you being empty; however they were still warm.

Sylus must have gotten up not so long ago.

Almost as if summoned by your thoughts, you turn to the doorway upon hearing something, and see sylus holding a tray of food.

Your heart melts at his sweet gesture.

"Here. Eat it all and don't forget your meds" he says, placing the tray on your lap.

You decide this isn't enough, "I'm weak all over, feed them to me?" You request, looking at sylus' face to read his expression.

You hear him chuckle, followed by a nod. He picks up the spoon and does as you asked.

The outcome? A few drops of soup spilled on your lap and some of it around your mouth. You smiled at how much effort he was putting into this, which turned into a giggle, which escalated into full-on laughter.

You notice the corner of his lips turn up ever so slightly, and you don't let it slip.

Never in a hundred years did sylus ever see himself taking care of someone, let alone make them feel so safe as to be vulnerable around him. Truly, you changed his life, for the better.

You wiped your mouth clean and didnt forget the painkillers, obviously.

"Rest. I called you in sick for tomorrow" Fuck. You felt like crying again. How can this man perceive himself as 'evil' or whatever the society labels him as? He's just a sensitive soul forced to harden up.

"You know my heart never truly rests without you beside me" you confess, Patting the space beside you, lifting the comforter for him to slip into.

You lay down, and so does he. The soft moonlight in the now dim room fell on his flawless face, it somehow made him look even prettier.

Silver light on his silver hair. You couldn't possibly resist the urge to pet his fluffy hair and so you did.

"Hmm. Keep doing that" Sylus purrs.

You hug him closer, and he rests his chin on the top of your head. Both of you drifting off to sleep once again.

Who would've thought, the feared leader of onichynus, who could have no trouble putting a bullet through one's head, be so vulnerable in his woman's arm?

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Dark!Aemond Targaryen: Size Difference

Pairing: Dark Aemond Targaryen x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

WARNINGS: Short reader; Non-con; Forced Breeding; Forced Pregnancy.

AN: I got inspired to write this out of nowhere. Please, reblog and give me feedback.

--

Aemond is absolutely infatuated with the way he towers over you. How the top of your head is barely able to reach his shoulder. How small and powerless you appear next to him. 

It fills him with flaming desire and possessiveness to see your small delicate figure next to his robust one. The things he could do to you, if only you were married already. 

He never skips the chance to ask your hand for one (or too many) dances, admiring the way his large hand envelopes your smaller one entirely and he can’t stop imagining how one single hand of his could cover your entire breast. The way you have to tilt your head upwards to be able to face him. 

The fact that he’s enamored by you isn’t missed by the court. Rumors and gossip of the young and fierce prince having fallen for you. Your parent’s are overjoyed when a marriage proposal comes for you and even though you're not certain about Aemond, you bow your head and accept your duty. 

Once you’re officially betrothed, Aemon will be much less careful when it comes to letting you know about his obsession for you. He’s always around you, continuously requesting your presence in the library to spend time together or summoning you for some supper together. 

His hand will linger around the small of your back for more time than appropriate as he guides you through the extensive gardens for a morning walk. His hands enveloping your neck as he presents you with a diamond necklace. 

If it’s a social event, Aemond will remain fixed by your side, a cold expression on his face as people approach you to speak. He doesn’t allow any man to ask your hand to dance, his eye squinting with annoyance if they dare to talk to you. 

Aemond swears that the day of your wedding is the most marvelous day he’s lived. Even though you hold a solemn expression, Aemond still adoringly gazes at you, your delicate figure on the gorgeous white dress making his cock painfully ache for you. 

That night, he’ll let out all of the filthy fantasies he’s been dreaming about. 

As soon as you get to your private chambers, Aemond is quick to rip you out of the dress, shocking you to say the least. He swallows all of your protests with an intense kiss, easily holding you down on the bed with his hands intertwining your own on each side of your head. 

It’s a struggle to fit his wide cock inside your tiny pussy and your wails of pain are more than enough to prove that, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. 

You’re so tight around his cock that Aemond can’t pull away from you. He fucks you with rough thrusts that make the bed quiver, his hips continuously hitting you with immense force, causing shaken wails from you. 

He forgets about your pain, focusing on his own pleasure as he keeps thrusting you with long, deep strokes. His face close to your tear stained one, features contorted by pain as your new husband doesn’t seem to stop any time soon. 

Aemond is restless, fucking you several times over the course of the night, even though you’re sore and tired. You’re not strong enough to stop him and he won’t cave in. He fills you over and over again until he’s sure you’ve taken his seed, his babe growing inside you. 

In the morning, the maids are surprised to find you in a miserable state, dark bags and red eyes with the bed in a complete mess. But the way your inner thighs are covered in Aemond’s cum is more than enough to say everything. 

Needless to say that your wedding night won’t be the last, Aemond’s insatiable when it comes to having you. He can easily bend you down, forcing you into any position he wants as you’re no match for him. He peppers you in kisses, muttering sweet words as he fucks you desperately. 

Soon, you’re with child and Aemond is more in love with you than ever. It’s a dream for him, seeing you getting so big and fragile with his child growing inside you. That’s something he intends to keep doing for as long as you can give him babes. 

[heavyhitterheaux]

Butterscotch Harlow

First Lady of Private Garden Instagram AU

Liked by jackharlow, urbanwyatt, neelamthadhani, 2forwoyne, taylorrooks, blancahood, and 1,283,052 others

y/ninsta: A little while ago, I surprised smush with a puppy (even though he said no more pets). the two have finally warmed up to each other and all she does is terrorize him lmao

jackharlow: I like how you find my pain humorous smh urbanwyatt: I still can't believe yall literally have fourteen pets now lilnasx: urbanwyatt you mean fifteen, they have druski2funny druski2funny: what the actual fuck do yall be on for me to constantly get dragged like this?!?!? 2forwoyne: yall might as well open up your home and sell tickets because yall live in a damn zoo y/ninsta: all yall can kiss my ass because who is over here every damn week trying to get fed? not too much on my babies. blancahood: you have 3 real babies, pay them some attention y/ninsta: B, I have 5 children. how quickly you forget. jackharlow: who the hell is four and five?!?!? dualipa: jackharlow you and Urban urbanwyatt: NOW WHY AM I ALWAYS IN IT?! y/ninsta: dualipa you a real one for that softtcurse: urbanwyatt because your ass is always doing something smh jackharlow: dualipa and now here you come terrorizing me too smh dualipa: jackharlow I was nice about it but I can be mean. watch that tone. jackharlow: dualipa you better not start with me. I swear yall want me bald by 30. jackandy/naremyparents: I'm convinced that soon y/ninsta will find a way to buy an elephant. mark my words. urbandjack26: jackandy/naremyparents she probably already has one and just keeps it at the actual zoo in Louisville jackharlow: DO NOT GIVE HER ANY IDEAS y/ninsta: 👀👀👀 jackharlow: y/ninsta baby don't you dare y/ninsta: jackharlow BRB

Liked by y/ninsta, druski2funny, claybornharlow, urbanwyatt, maggieharlow, quiiso, jessicakelce, and 1,943,271 others

jackharlow: your shirt says mother so please come and get this puppy. I have not known peace since you bought her 😭

urbanwyatt: jackharlow let's be real for a second. you haven't known peace since you got married to y/ninsta taylorrooks: URBAN! TAKE IT BACK BEFORE SHE SEES IT! 2forwoyne: urbanwyatt not your wanting best friend to kick your ass jackharlow: urbanwyatt you just asking to die tonight aren't you? y/ninsta: I heard I've been summoned and urbanwyatt don't go to sleep tonight urbanwyatt: y/ninsta not my fault you terrorize my best friend! y/ninsta: urbanwyatt is this about me forgetting to make you spaghetti the other day? because right now your ass is acting outta pocket. don't let that mouth of yours get you hair cut off and weed stolen theestallion: Y/N PLEASEEEEEEE blancahood: y/ninsta if you steal it, save me some yungskylark: why when it's taco tuesday, someone in PG acts like they don't have no got damn sense smh shloob_: urbanwyatt my stomach is making whale mating calls. you better fix this shit so she feeds us. urbanwyatt: I SAID WHAT I SAID y/ninsta: urby, you asked for it smh jackharlow: like not too much on my baby now but urb actually claimed me as his best friend for once so I call this day a win y/ninsta: look at my pookie defending me and you were always the first best friend, he just loves me more jackharlow: 🙄🙄🙄

yungskylark: he need to defend my stomach from biting the rest of my insides quiiso: jackharlow IT'S NOT NO WIN WHEN WE'RE HUNGRY, TF? jackharlow: quiiso oh imma eat regardless. idc what happens to yall lmaoooo saweetie: jackharlow just nasty as hell as usual jackharlow: saweetie HAVE YOU SEEN MY WIFE?!?! saweetie: jackharlow for the billionth time, YES! jackharlow: saweetie just making sure lol

Liked by y/ninsta, saweetie, urbanwyatt, theestallion, privategarden, theshaderoom, neelamthadhani, and 3,281,937 others

jackharlow: you see what she does in my time of need? LEAVES ME 😭

But my wife a baddie 😍😍

y/ninsta: jackharlow you are so damn dramatic! I'm only going to be gone for two days! but love you smush. claybornharlow: oh, so the babies have to eat jack's cooking? maggieharlow come save your grandchildren! jackharlow: HEY! THEY'RE FINE! dualipa: I highly doubt that jackharlow: dualipa hop off the nearest cliff y/ninsta: I pumped enough and there's more in the freezer, along with formula and the baby food I made. they're good! jackharlow: umm y/ninsta...... I think I only have enough for a few more hours y/ninsta: WHAT blancahood: oh good lord smh jackharlow: y/ninsta axel is eating like he has never seen food in his entire life maggieharlow: smh jackharlow if you needed me, why didn't you call? jackharlow: maggieharlow I got it handled! claybornharlow: only thing jackharlow has a handle on is.... hmm.... I'm at a loss saweetie: clay, pleaseeeee lmao urbandjack26: chaos in the Harlow household lol neelamthadhani: and jackharlow has the nerve to want more children smh handle those three first! y/ninsta: jackharlow is a good daddy! but his way of doing things concerns me sometimes jackharlow: y/ninsta I know I'm a good daddy. to my triplets and my wife. y/ninsta: jackharlow I'm taking my compliment back smh

Liked by jackharlow, urbanwyatt, saweetie, estgee, champagnepapi, zackbia, taylorrooks, and 1,928,036 others

y/ninsta: pleading for my damn help, and once I get home, this is what I see 🙄🙄

jackharlow: and that was the first decent amount of sleep that I got since you left y/ninsta: jackharlow I see little miss kept guard while you slept. I told you she loves you. jackandy/naremyparents: are yall gonna tell us her name now?!?!? jackharlow: jackandy/naremyparents I want to protect her privacy urbanwyatt: this man has officially lost it lmao saweetie: privacy? she literally pees and shits outside for the world to see jackharlow: not too much on my baby now! she still deserves privacy! claybornharlow: jack, she's a dog jackharlow: claybornharlow and? she's MY dog and what I say goes blancahood: that man don't know how to act now that he has his own pet quiiso: y/ninsta please get your husband lmao y/ninsta: quiiso he's a lost cause. I tried to come close to him while she was next to him and long story short, she is very territorial of him. she likes me, but he's her go to person. like sis, I was here first. show your mom some respect lmao urbanwyatt: not y/n finally having to compete for jack's heart y/ninsta: urbanwyatt he lowkey might divorce me to be able to have all of his attention on her jackharlow: I AM NOT THAT BAD neelamthadhani: jackharlow who lied to you? smh y/ninsta: jackharlow just tell everyone her name! jackharlow: y/ninsta no. that's her business and no one else's. jackandy/naremyparents: she probably doesn't even have one jackharlow: YES SHE DOES! If yall can guess it, I'll tell you saweetie: wait, what did yall end up deciding because it was down to two names urbandjack26: probably named her alcatraz y/ninsta: urbandjack26 over my dead body lmao allthingsy/n: hmm..... Louisville related? y/ninsta: allthingsy/n no for once lol jackandurbupdates: toffee y/ninsta: getting warmer jackandy/naremyparents: caramel? y/ninsta: getting closer! jackharlow: yall get on my nerves jackandurb26: BUTTERSCOTCH! BUTTERSCOTCH HARLOW! jackharlow: 😒😒😒😒😒 jackandurb26: well?!?!? jackharlow: I'm logging out y/ninsta: 😭😭😭😭

[guppybibi]

Not much of a Romancer..

𖦹 pairing: Necromancer!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x ghost!fem!reader

𖦹 word count: 1543

𖦹 content: Dead Johnny (shockers), most likely inaccurate information, maybe ooc, mild cursing, i feel like this will be a rushed slowburn

𖦹 notes: the definitions are from google lmao, idk how necromancy works but..how do u do dialogue what.

Necromancy, the practice of magic involving communication with the dead by summoning their spirits, a certain act that Simon wasn't familiar with. Yet, at least. He’s been browsing through local libraries whenever he isn't deployed, researching on this topic. It never really piqued his interest to begin with, you know? Well, not until Johnny brought it up once. It stuck with him since.

“Aye whin ah die L.T., mak' sure tae git an ouija boord or learn necromancy sae we kin still talk.” He joked, already tipsy from the amount of alcohol in his system. Simon knew he was kidding, the man was bloody drunk after all. The idea didn't seem..horrible though. Would it really work? Could he still talk with Johnny or the other undead by simply using a haunted board or using witchcraft?

Now that Johnny really was gone, it wouldn't hurt to try it out, right? Simon chose to use the Ouija board first as it looked easier than to learn literal black magic. And did it work? It definitely did! Except he wasn't talking to Johnny’s spirit, instead he was talking to a fucking demon. That could also be the late Sergeant messing with him but he wasn't taking any chances of being possessed by an actual demon, he had enough demons he was fighting internally, he didn't need any more. So he turned to the last option in his book which was learning necromancy, which certainly wasn't easier.

First, he went and browsed the endless world wide web, finding tips and tricks of what you're supposed to do or not do. It was quite useful, being able to learn in the comfort of his own house was convenient. One of the few downsides of researching on the net is the fact that the internet was a cobweb of all sorts of false information, just waiting for the users to fall right into their sticky trap. Simon wasn't one of them though, he wasn't one to trust that easily, especially strangers. So he went to the public library, a place he hasn't been to in years.

It felt like he was out of place to say the least, every heavy step he took made the aged floorboards creak, earning the librarian’s stern glare every time while he nodded his head to silently apologize. So far, the most important thing he learned to keep in mind in necromancy is respect. After all, it was the undead he was disturbing. To never forget to say things like “please” and “thank you” deemed easy enough. Sure he was a cold-hearted man, a lot of people were skeptical if he even had one in him, but he wasn't a disrespectful man. So he kept these things in mind, they were easy enough to do anyway.

So, after months of researching he finally decided to start his very first ritual. He got some chalk, some white candles to repel any negative spirit, he would've chosen to use tea candles but that wasn't the better option. Get it? Because Brits like tea? Well there were a bunch of different methods he could've used, but he chose this so it better work. He was taking this chance, the chance to speak to Johnny again, to properly say goodbye.

At last, it was time. It was the dead of night, Simon decided to perform the ritual in an abandoned building. He managed to accurately set everything up, proving that the months of studying necromancy was worth it. Then, he started the long awaited ritual. It started out smoothly, with him reciting chants and doing whatever was required for him to do. He was anticipating to hear an annoying Scottish accent to come out soon, but instead he heard..a high pitched voice? From what he could tell, it was no doubt a woman. Shit, did he just summon the spirit of an unknown dead woman? Well he had to deal with this, he can only hope it wasn't a hostile spirit. It’s his responsibility now, he can't just shove your soul back into the afterlife.

“I was having a really good rest, ya know..” The spirit starts. “Until a certain someone here decided to ruin it.” She glares at the masked man in front of her, making Simon feel like he was being pierced by sharp needles. “Sorry, that wasn't my intention.” He states the truth, sighing when he realizes his first attempt at speaking to Johnny failed. He should clean up and get going before he pisses you off even more. So he does just that, cleaning up after himself and packing up. “Hey hey, stop right there big guy.” She calls out, disappearing from where she was and reappearing right in front of him.

“You bothered my peaceful slumber, now I’m bothering you!” She announces proudly as if she had just said the best idea for vengeance. Okay, maybe it was because Simon’s ears were already starting to ring from your voice. “Sure, go follow me or whatever.” He said with an indifferent tone, he’s been through the worst things. Things that also caused his ear to ring and rupture, so he could surely handle this. From what he could tell, you seemed like you just wanted to provoke him. That's fine, at least you meant no harm. Physically at least.

And so, you did indeed follow him. No matter the occasion, rainy or sunny, you’d be right there beside him like a pesky shadow. Unless he went to the bathroom, that's where you’d finally cross the line. You still waited for him out the door like a clingy dog though. That was when he was not deployed though, you weren't exactly aware of him being a lieutenant..Sure his room seemed very soldier-like and had remnants of proof all over but he could've been just a military enthusiast or something!

Now here he was, packing all of the essentials as he prepares for deployment while you watch him intently. “Seriously? 3-in-1 shampoo? It's not even scented!” She bitches, concerned about his hygiene routine. “It's efficient and convenient.” He answers dryly, continuing to shove all of the necessities in his bags. “Where are you going anyways? Vacation?” To which he scoffs at, do you really think he's bringing a pistol to a vacation? “Did the afterlife take all of your wits too? I’m getting deployed.”

“..Deployed?” She questions. “I’m in the army.” And with that, her eyes are as wide as saucers. “Excuse me, no wait–excuse you? And you never bothered mentioning it to me once!” Then he cuts you off. “You never bothered to tell me your name. I think we're in pretty similar situations.” Her mouth is instantly zipped, he did have a point. “Oh right..well it isn't too late to get to know each other, big guy.”

“Stop calling me ‘big guy’.” “Then tell me your name. Look, I’ll even start. My name is Y/N, nice to meet you.” She starts, holding out her hand as she expects a handshake from him. Because that's how proper formal introductions start! “Ghost.” He replies blankly, getting a raised eyebrow from you. “That's it?” She sulks. “Just an alias, that's enough.”

‘What a killjoy’ she thinks, why couldn't someone more interesting make her come to life! Like maybe a group of rebellious teens or anyone but like this ‘Ghost’ guy! “Well then ‘Ghost’, let's get to know each other!” She insists. “I won't be talking to you when I’m deployed, don't want the soldiers thinking I’m a madman.” She whines, how much did she sin during her lifetime to deserve such dull torture? Before she could even open her mouth to complain, he spoke up. “If you dislike haunting me then just leave.” “I can't.” She tells, and Simon has never seen you this quiet before.

“I bet I owe you some kind of explanation huh? Looks like you didn't research enough on this necromancing disturbing the dead shit.” He nodded, admitting his mistake. “Whoever awakes the undead is the only one who can put them to rest again, you have to perform another ritual for it. So if I don't stop following you, I could possibly lose you and permanently wander as a ghost forever. I don't want that, none of the undead does.” She explained, the words are hard to get out of her. While the masked man nodded in understanding, that's why she acted like she was glued to him like honey. He thought about it, it did seem pretty shitty. You can only do so much, going around as a ghost doesn't seem like the funnest thing in the world.

“I see. Just..stick by me or whatever.” There's something in him that doesn't wanna get rid of her just yet, maybe it's his conscience? Yeah, that was for sure it. It would feel like he was purposely putting someone back in their grave, the soil being used to bury them a little too familiar to other experiences. The woman blinks a few times, burning straight through his soul as she stares at him before nodding. Looks like he was in no rush to get rid of her, that's nice. She’ll stay by his side the whole time, whether he likes it or not.

[rockingrobin69]

Food for thought

“I’m so glad you came,” Potter said with that look on his face. Draco felt himself clam, go small-small-small until his nose barely cleared the line of his shoulders.

“It’s,” he tried through a too-dry mouth, “no problem, really. Happy I could help.”

“I don’t know why it keeps doing that,” scratching the back of his neck with those big Potter-hands. The grandfather clock had been in the Black house for centuries. Now it was showing the right time again, and also, conveniently, no longer throwing darts at bystanders. “I swear it was working this morning.”

“Truly, a mystery.” Draco levelled a scathing glance at Pansy, who was sitting at the counter with a far-too-neutral expression. “Pans, if you wouldn’t mind, a word?”

He dragged her out to the corridor, only barely not by the ear. She had the audacity to smile. “Everything all right, dear?”

“None of that,” in a heated whisper. “That’s the third, Pans. How many times would you break Potter’s things just to have him call me?”

“If you’d bothered calling him yourself, I wouldn’t have to.”

“Pansy Parkinson!”

“Draco Malfoy.” Examining her fingernails with an exaggerated yawn. “Are you suggesting I’m messing with my own colleague? I would never.”

He rolled his eyes so hard his head hurt. “You’re not fooling anyone. Did you forget I actually know you? Potter does too. Soon enough he’ll figure out—”

“That he simply must take you on a date? I’d hoped so, yes.” With a cheeky wink: “Got to go, my show’s about to start. We’ll catch up later, yes? Still on for drinks on Friday?” and she left, the corridor and a flushed, slightly hyperventilating Draco, alone in Potter’s place.

“Erm, Draco?” from the kitchen. “I think I might’ve made too much pasta. Stay for dinner?”

Oh, he’s going to kill that woman.

After dinner, that is.

*

“You’re a life-saver,” Potter murmured, pretty mouth hanging open. On the sofa, Seamus was smiling so smugly, Draco could punch him.

Didn’t. Stood there, made himself small and wished to be not-here, not-now. “It really was no problem. The windows should shut properly now. Have you tried,” but it was useless, he knew why the windows were jammed, and it wasn’t poor maintenance.

His ‘friends’ were just out to get him.

Suppose they thought it was funny? Suppose… Draco didn’t know. Tried to curtail his mortification at being summoned here, again, in another attempt to humiliate him.

That’s what they were doing, right? That’s what this was all about. They knew how he felt about Potter, nothing was more obvious. It was there in pub nights and on their stupid hikes and that time they all went to the beach, it was in Draco’s eyes, in his hands always reaching out, never touching.

“Thanks,” Potter said, for the third time. “You’re so… It’s really fucking kind of you to. Take care of me.”

Startled, “I don’t—it’s just your windows, Potter. There’s no reason to get all sentimental.”

A loud noise: Seamus, snorting. “You boys are such a mess.” Shaking his head. “Anyway, this was fun. See you two Saturday!” and he disappeared, cartoon-quickly.

(Draco’s been watching cartoons recently. Mostly with Potter, late at night after their friends would leave; sometimes by himself, wearing the jumper he’d stolen and feeling rather pathetic).

“Are you by any chance hungry?” Potter asked from a surprisingly-short distance. He was right there, close enough to touch. Tittering on his tip-toes, like he had any reason to be nervous. “It’s only, I’ve ordered far too much food, and Seamus just. Erm. Left.”

Draco folded inwards, made himself as small as possible, so it won’t start leaking out, all this… foolishness. It was stupid. It would break his heart.

He stayed anyway.

*

“Thank you so much,” Potter rubbed his eyes, this half-grin on his awful, handsome face. “I don’t know what’s wrong with this house. I think it hates me.”

“I think someone does,” with a murderous look to Ginevra, who not only smirked, but also made a point of coming to see for herself. The cooker had stopped frying everything to a crisp, and should be safe to use again. Big whoop.

“That’s some quick spellwork,” she hit his shoulder far too hard. “Didn’t know you were so good with these.”

“Really,” incredulous. “You didn’t know.”

“And how lucky, that Malfoy could come over so quickly?” she looked between Potter and him. “Maybe you should move in. Easier for the next time something bends out of shape.”

Draco didn’t splutter, because he was an adult, but he must have looked rather pinched. “There won’t be a next time.”

“I’m so sorry,” Potter sounded miserable, standing there in his too-tight Quidditch top and those joggers that always rode too low, “god, Draco, I’m sorry I—”

“No!” he cleared his throat, had no hope of clearing his face of that awful, telling blush. “No, it’s absolutely fine. I don’t mind! I meant, I hope your things stop breaking all the time for no reason.”

“Oh. Don’t worry about it. I, erm, accidentally made too much curry, so—Gin, you were saying you can’t stay?”

Draco’s belly made a terrible gurgle. Oh, he’s going to kill all of them. Closing his eyes, he missed some of the encounter, and probably an evil grin from Ginevra.

“Draco?” Potter came closer, and he smelled like lemongrass and thyme, and like Potter, and like summer, “Would, erm, would you like to stay for dinner?”

Why were the gods testing him this way? He tried to go small-small-small till he wasn’t noticeable anymore, but Potter was too close and Draco’s heart was crushed open. The weight of his want, which had to be so clear on his face, this absolute agony. And nothing he could say but, “Yes, yes,” and hide behind his fingers, and endure it.

The worst part was, Potter was a great cook.

No: the worst was at the end of the night, when he kissed his cheek so, so gently.

Draco went home, and buried himself in his duvet, and swore to never play the fool in these games anymore.

*

“This is so embarrassing,” Potter announced into his hands, “I don’t know what happened, it just. Won’t quit it.”

His shower curtains were singing. Non-stop.

“I,” Draco swallowed, and his ribs nearly cracked with it, “didn’t k-know you were such a… big Celestina fan.”

Couldn’t hold it in: laughing so hard he was crying, and Potter was laughing too, shoulders heaving, so bright and so wonderful Draco’s teeth ached. They both ended up on the floor, winded and flushed. Draco loved him so much it was frightening.

“I,” he almost said it out loud, covered his mouth with a hand.

“What?” Potter, laughing. He took Draco’s hand with both of his, tried to pull it away, “What, what were you going to say?”

“Nothing!” in a tiny squeak. “Potter!” when he basically climbed in his lap, still laughing, laughing.

“You have to tell me. I made your favourite biscuits, so you have to.”

“You—did?” confused and bright-red in the face, “Why? Was someone supposed to come tonight?”

Potter’s eyes were so big. “No?”

“So why did you…” Potter always had too much food not due to a lack of planning, but his heart, that huge thing. “You cook when someone comes over.”

“Yes,” Potter agreed. He was so close and so warm. Baffling.

“So who did you bake the biscuits for?” who was responsible for this evening’s prank, he meant, for this torment. Whom should he thank or perhaps curse. Potter blinked his pretty eyelashes, then one big hand came to cup Draco’s face.

“You,” he said. This tiny, shy voice. “I made them for you. I was hoping you’d come. Might have… erm… cursed the curtains a bit.”

Draco would have gasped, but Potter’s hand on his cheek. “What?”

“Well… you never come when I invite you, only when something’s broken, and I, I, wanted to see you.”

No, that didn’t clarify anything. “Why?” Draco asked, and his voice was small too.

Potter huffed something warm on his face. “Because I like you, silly. You must have noticed? Everyone else did. They’ve been driving me bonkers and… they were right. I should have just been honest with you.”

His heart was racing, raucous in his chest. “You know they’ve been playing us. The clock, the windows, the cooker, everything that went wrong, it was them.”

“Not this time,” Potter said. His mouth was so close, so red and so stupidly gorgeous. Coming even closer. “Draco, can I…”

Instead of making himself smaller, Draco went big. Chest expanding, arms sending out and reaching, touching. He kissed Potter before the stupid git could even move, and then they were snogging, wet and sloppy on the bathroom floor.

It was stupid. It was perfect. Behind them, the curtain were still humming: a cauldron full of hot, hot love…

Had to stay for biscuits, right?

For my lovely @orange-peony who gave me a brilliant prompt from this list. Hey, you could do it too!

[kabie-whump]

How about another request, if you're up for it? 👀

Whumpee being kidnapped and used as bait for Caretaker. The kicker? Whumpee thinks it's not gonna work, since they and Caretaker got into a big argument before Whumpee was taken, to which Whumper reassures/taunts that Caretaker will come for Whumpee no matter what.

Then, to Whumpee's surprise and horror, Caretaker did come... and fell right into Whumper's trap trying to free Whumpee. 😈

-- @whumperofworlds

Of course pookie! :3 I'm just gonna continue what I wrote for u last time if u don't mind <3 (Just ignore the part where I said Ventis shows up on his own after a week lol)

Definitely ended up way longer than I intended teehee

Content: kidnapping, stress position + bondage, used as bait, child neglect mention, drug addiction + forced relapse, choking, blood, force feeding (not w food though cause ew)

~~~

Ventis takes stock of his condition. A cloth blindfold stretches across his eyes. His shoulders ache; unsurprising considering his hands are tied with a chain that stretches above him, forcing him to stand on his tip-toes to avoid putting too much pressure on his joints. Being unconscious in this position has probably fucked them up already. He much prefers when kidnappers tie him to chairs or leave him lying on the floor.

The next thing Ventis checks for is his magic. Sometimes he gets lucky and his kidnappers will forget to do anything to suppress it. Others will rely on the old-fashioned gag + blindfold + thoroughly bound hands method. And then there was his least favorite: anti-magic enchantments.

He's blindfolded but not gagged. That leaves two options. There's only one way to find out which situation he has found himself in.

Ventis steels himself, then tries to summon a simple lightning spell. As soon as the first draconic word leaves his mouth, pain shoots from the cuffs through his whole body. He cries out and his knees buckle, putting agonizing pressure on his shoulders until he recovers and goes back to balancing on his toes.

Definitely enchanted. Shit.

"Oh, you're awake." It's a woman's voice, coming from somewhere off to his left.

Ventis gasps for air as he takes note of the way her voice echoes. It sounds like they're inside, and it's far cooler than any building should be in the heat wave the city's been experiencing. He's either been taken somewhere very far away, or he's in a basement. Hopefully the latter.

"If it is ransom you seek, you took the wrong Riinturuth. Father will not pay for me."

Ventis has said those words so many times now that he wonders if there's some list of kidnappable nobles somewhere that he needs to get his name removed from. Just because he's the first son does not mean he's the favorite.

"Oh, I know. Don't worry. That's not what this is about."

That's... odd. "What do you mean?"

"Simple. You're going to help me capture the Ventura boy."

Onthyes. Fuck.

That's the thing about having an important father and being close with someone who also has an important father. Double the kidnapping risk. This scenario has only happened once before, and Onthyes appeared in no time and easily overpowered Ventis's captors.

It was kind of hot, if Ventis is being honest.

But that's not going to happen this time. Not after the argument they'd just had. Especially since Ventis had stated very clearly that he didn't want Onthyes protecting him from everything all the time. Oops.

"I will do no such thing."

"But you're already doing it." The woman's voice is just in front of him now. Ventis flinches away from her. "He knows where you are, and when he comes for you he'll be all mine."

"He will not come for me," Ventis assures her. "This is a waste of your time and mine."

Ventis yelps as an open hand strikes his cheek.

"Don't lie," the woman hisses. "I've been watching him. He's protective of you to a fault. He'll come."

"I did not- '' Ventis's words are cut off by a strong hand gripping his throat, making him squeak and choke, barely able to keep his weight on his toes. Claws prick at the delicate skin.

"He'll come," she says again. "And when he does I'm going to make you watch as I tear open his throat."

"No," Ventis chokes out. "Please. Don't hurt him."

The clawed hand releases its hold and Ventis gasps and coughs. His legs shake from the effort to stay up on his toes.

"Here, open your mouth. This'll make you shut up."

Something is pressed to Ventis's lips and he recognizes it immediately by the smooth texture and faintly sweet smell alone. Nightspill. The very same drug he had just fought to free himself from.

He seals his lips tightly, trying to turn his head away despite the urge to open up and accept his return to the blissful numbness the pill offered. He had worked so hard to get sober. Onthyes and Shayah had worked so hard to help him. He can't go back now.

The woman growls, "Stop being difficult," and digs her claws into Ventis's side. He can't help but scream, and she pushes the pill into his mouth and then covers it with her other hand so he can't spit it out. "Swallow," she demands.

Ventis sobs and shakes his head, trying to twist away from her but only succeeding at making his shoulders burn unbearably from the pull of the chains. She digs her claws deeper and pulls, slicing slowly through his skin.

The blindfold soaks up Ventis's tears as he continues to scream and sob and struggle while still doing everything in his power to resist the urge to swallow. The taste is familiar on his tongue. It's so tempting - it would definitely help to dull the pain he's in.

That one stray thought is all it takes. Ventis swallows before he even realizes what he's doing.

The claws retreat from is side and he can feel hot blood streaming down from the wound. The woman pries his teeth apart, searching his mouth with metallic tasting fingers to make sure the pill is really gone. Ventis tries to bite, but he's too slow and winds up snapping his jaw on nothing.

"There." Ventis's captor sounds entirely unbothered as she steps away. "Maybe that will help you calm down."

Ventis feels panic waking up somewhere deep in his stomach and struggling to fight its way to the surface, but it dies out before his heart rate can even begin to pick up. He's left feeling fuzzy and peaceful and devastated all at the same time.

"Now all we have to do is wait."

They wait for a long time. Ventis's legs shake uncontrollably. His hands go cold and tingly and then numb. The nightspill wants nothing more than to lull him to sleep but every time he starts to doze off he loses concentration on standing on his toes and a blinding pain in his shoulders rips him back to consciousness.

Onthyes isn't coming. Ventis wonders how long it'll take for his captor to realize that and just kill him.

Then- "Let him go!"

Ventis jolts. "Onthyes?" He croaks. That absolute idiot. Does he not know a setup when he sees one? "What are you doing? Get out of here!"

Armor clunks loudly as Onthyes runs up to him. A gloved hand touches his cheek, then pulls off the blindfold.

Ventis blinks spots out of his vision, everything slowly coming into focus as Onthyes fusses over him. "Run," he insists weakly. "Please."

Onthyes ignores him, his brow furrowed as he examines the chains. "I need to find the key. Hang in there."

An involuntary laugh bubbles out of Ventis. "Hah, hang? That is all I can do, my friend."

Onthyes just sighs and shakes his head as he turns away.

That's when Ventis's captor strikes. She emerges from a shadowy corner and pounces on Onthyes, all sharp claws and jagged teeth that barely fit behind her red lips.

Onthyes yelps and staggers backwards as she clings to his back, her claws searching for any holes in his armor. After finding nothing she turns her attention to pulling his hair so hard his head hits a nearby stone wall and he falls to one knee.

Pounding footfalls, followed by a battlecry and the appearance of a hulking half-orc woman - Shayah. "I told you to fucking wait for me," she yells as she rips Onthyes's attacker from his back and throws her across the room. She hits the opposite wall hard and goes still.

Onthyes rushes over to Ventis as Shayah retrieves the key to the cuffs. She barely has to reach to unlock them.

Even nightspill can't dull the pain that follows as Ventis finally lowers his arms and lands on flat feet for the first time in hours.

Sensation rushes back into his limbs and he screams. Onthyes is there to catch him when his knees buckle, holding him and whispering something along the lines of, "It's okay. You're okay. I've got you. I'm so sorry. Just breathe. You're okay."

When the pain finally recedes some Ventis is left gasping and trembling. He lets Onthyes lower him to the floor, too exhausted to support his own weight anymore. Shayah begins to check him over, using some scraps of fabric to stem the bleeding from the claw marks in his side.

She makes eye contact with Ventis, then pauses, a look of concern crossing her face. "Are you on something?" she asks softly, cupping his cheek.

Ventis gives a tired nod. "Nightspill. I'm sorry," he sobs. "I-I didn't want to. She made me."

"Shit," Shayah and Onthyes mutter at the same time.

"I'm sorry," Ventis repeats. "I tried. I really tried."

Onthyes brushes Ventis's hair from his sweaty forehead. "It's alright. We're not upset with you. We'll take care of you."

Onthyes's kind words don't help, not when the echoes of their argument from last night still haunt Ventis. "I-I thought you wouldn't come. After last night-"

"Last night's not important. I'll always come for you. Always. I..." Onthyes looks away, shaking his head. "I should've walked with you. I'm so sorry."

"Alright, boys." Shayah claps her hands, getting both of their attention. "You can wallow in guilt and pretend not to be in love with each other later. Let's get out of here."

"Right." Onthyes takes Ventis into his arms carefully and lifts him up, and Ventis finally nods off with his head lolling against Onthyes's shoulder.

~~~

Next Part

Ventisposting taglist: @scp-1296 @sapphicccici @acer-gaysimpstuff @morning-star-whump @yeetmyskeet @rainydaywhump

@unicornbeck @whumperofworlds

[11queensupreme11]

Do you remember that platonic poseidon au where Percy is married to an Atlantic nobleman? well imagine this:

all the gods are eagerly awaiting the birth of the baby and when it is born they all collectively recreate that scene from "House of Dragons"

SPOILER ALERT !!!!!

that scene in which moments after giving birth to her first child, Rhaenyra is summoned to see the queen, Alicent asks if the baby has a name and then Leanor says the name (I forget what it is) Alicent comments that it is a strange name for a Valeryano (everyone knows that the baby does not have Valeryan blood, it is clear from the baby's appearance that he is not Leanor's biological son although he loves him very much), so Viserya just replies that the baby has the same nose as the father (HAHAHAHAHA)

just imagine Percy's first child is born with silver hair and small vine marks on his body, Percy's husband expects Poseidon to punish her as soon as he arrives in the delivery room and sees that his daughter was an adulteress but as soon as the Poseidon arrives, the husband is totally ignored since Poseidon is only interested in his daughter's health and in seeing his first grandchild, he picks him up and simply says that the Chrhonos genes are too strong to have skipped his daughter's generation and have reappeared in his grandson

In the second pregnancy, the baby born has black hair and red eyes, Poseidon just looks at the baby and says that he looks like his "father" even though the husband's hair is not even black and his eyes are far from red

In the third pregnancy, a child with pink-blond hair and slightly shiny skin is born, the justification is that this time the child took after Poseidon's own blonde, since this is the child who most resembles him.

the last child has green hair, all Poseidon says is that the child has the same face shape as his "father"

It's an open joke that the husband is not the father of any of Percy's children, it's an open secret and everyone knows the truth but if anyone even tries to suggest that Percy is an adulteress and deserves to be punished the person will be tortured by dozens of different gods

absolutely EVERYONE defends Percy's honor and is offended on his behalf if anyone casts a questioning glance at his children's appearance and powers

Does the first son spend a lot of time with Hades? well they are just a very caring great uncle and nephew pair, great uncle hades is just teaching his great nephew how to use death powers that "probably" skipped a generation

Is Beelzebub spending a lot of time with his second son? well the child showed interest in the art of research and as a good "friend" of percy he offered to teach the child about the best methods of torture research

Is Apollo always in the presence of the third son? well he is a really cool cousin who offered to babysit so that his LOVED niece has time to rest

Is Loki spending a lot of time with his fourth son? well this baby is the youngest and is very spoiled and mischievous, their personalities just "matched" and they are both just having fun together

Are the babies calling the children of Hades/Apollo brothers? children like them so much that they think they are related, oh how adorable childish "innocence" is

Are the babies playing with Odin's beard and calling Thor their uncle and grandfather? they are just affectionate nicknames

NO, THERE IS NOTHING SUSPICIOUS ABOUT THIS, IT DOESN'T MATTER if the children have similar powers to yanderes this is just a coincidence, you DARE insinuate that precious Percy is an ADULTERA!?!? HOW DARE YOU!!!! you must pay with YOUR LIFE!! The Gods sentence you to DEATH AFTER A LOT OF TORTURE

what do you think?

what do i think??? WHAT DO I THINK??? I THINK I FUCKING LOVE THIS LMAOO 😭💖💖💖💖💖

THIS POOR NOBLEMAN THOOO LMAOOOOO. while poseidon 1000000% accepts his grandkids and would never say out loud that he's aware that none of the kids are from the husband, he's still FURIOUS that the nobleman failed to protect his precious daughter from hades, beelzebub, loki, and apollo

(which is ridiculous cuz they're a bunch of insane all-powerful gods, what do you want this man to DO??? 💀)

I LOVE HOW EVERYONE'S ON PERCY'S SIDE TOO LMAO!!!!! SHE REALLY IS EVERYONE'S FAVORITE 😂😂 everyone is part of the percy protection squad/fanclub they won't accept ANY slander about her 😍

I ALSO LOVE HOW THE YANDERE DADDIES ARE SPENDING TIME WITH THEIR RESPECTIVE KID OMG THATS SO CUTE 🥺🥺🥺🥺

but the nobleman.... that poor guy.... he's literally just a 4x cuck now 💀💀

[miupow]

✨️💛🔮!

about me ask game !!

✨️— out of all of the comments you've recieved on your fics, what are two or three of your favorites?

these four comments i've gotten over my year on tumblr have stuck with me so much. shout out to everyone who's ever sent me feedback on my works, they make me cry (in a good way!)

"if this fic was a dessert, it would be TOO SWEET! u guys i was smiling so hard reading this, my roommate was like “why are you so happy?” i honestly loved every second of this and each kiss was so uniquely beomgyu. the “i’m done with my games; pay attention to me!”, the “so soon you won’t even have time to miss me”…i could go on on about this!!" -- @chasingthatjjunie on five kisses.

#oh my god i’m silent after this one#one so cute to have a summoning circle in a hyperpink room I love it so much#two LOSER VIRGIN INCUBUS#the jokes about god made me giggle#some lines that SOLD me#am I doing good little human?#fuck no i’m not done I need more I can’t stop need to make you cum again and again#if it’s ever too much tell me please 🫠#oh god you’re going to ruin me#you marked me up pretty girl now I have to return the favor I could just eat you wholePLEASE#be a good girl and beg for it maybe i’ll give you that firstborn you want so badly!!!!!!!!!! IM RUINED IM WEAK#AND HOW HE JUST KEPT GOING 🫠#READ THIS NOW PLS -- @biteyoubiteme on under the moon.

If i knew what kind of masterpiece I would experience by reading this I would have cherished every word and sentence a bit better. -- @lowsuga on just like magic.

i just wanna say this might be the best hyuka smut fic ive ever read. me personally i feel like out of five i find him the hardest to write, because he just seems so sweet, but i love how you used that side of him in your advantage when writing this fic. you're literally so smart! this is also my first time reading bdsm, and this fic made me like it. i feel like this sparked something in me and i might just look for more haha! the transition of him being sweet to freaky is really goosebumps! this was so good lia, love your works so much -- @seolis-world on duality. (i miss u sm)

💛— what is the most impactful thing you've learned about writing?

just how much motivation and ambition needs to come from within. to stop writing for others and to write stories that i enjoy writing. how much joy and whimsy will come back to you once you stop focusing on requests and the desires of your following

🔮— any advice for any writers experiencing writers block or burnout?

don't worry about notes or followers. don't compare your works to the works of other people, especially if they're bigger, more popular blogs. don't write about what you think other people would like, write about what you would like. and most importantly, don't ever forget that writing is supposed to be fun. a writing blog is a hobby, not a job, so don't let it become one. don't let your worries make it not fun or exciting anymore.

[fandomworld9728]

The Life of the Morningstars - Chapter 22:

"Okay, seriously." Pulling himself back up onto the rooftop, Adam had had it with all these fuckers. "How many of you freaks do I have to fight?"

"Oh, I'm the only one that matters." Making his way over to the first man, Lucifer rolled up the sleeves of his jacket, his confidence at an all-time high. "See, you messed with my daughter and now I am going to fuck you!"

"Wha- ....really?"

No one spoke, too shocked and/or horrified by what just came from the king's mouth. The only thing to break the silence was the sound of Alastor's hand smacking against his face at Lucifer's misspoken words and Adam's rather eager response.

"It's fuck you up, dad."

"Wait, what did I say?"

Distracted, Lucifer wasn't able to dodge as Adam tackled him into a wall. Not that it really did any damage him. More shocked than anything else, the omega quickly recovered, shape shifting into a snake to get out of the first man's grip. Changing back, Lucifer began flying around and teasing him while dodging his attacks. Almost as if this were a game.

"Hahaha! So, this is what you've been up to since Eden? I gotta say, you really let yourself go, buddy."

"You judging me? You're the most hated being in all of creation."

"Whoa! Well, you and your first wife didn't seem to hate what I had to offer. Or the second, bow chicka bow bow~"

"I'll fucking end you!"

As amusing as this was to watch, Alastor took his attention off the two and used this chance to make his way over to Charlie. However, the princess seemed to have similar thoughts about going to her partner who was trying to fend off a now one-armed Exorcist. Until Lucifer moved out of the way of a rather powerful attack that cut the hotel in half, causing the drones flying around the area to be destroyed and the young alpha to fall to the depths.

"Charolette!" Using what strength and energy he had left, Alastor pushed himself to jump and catch her. Falling with her, he tried to summon his shadowy tentacles to try and stop or at the very least slow their descent. But they weren't working! Bracing himself for the worst, he moved Charlie in his arms so he would take most of the impact. Until they were no longer falling.

Looking up, he was met with a smiling Lucifer. "Don't worry, I got you both." 

"Dad! Look out!" Summoning up magic of her own that she didn't know she had, Charlie blocked Adam's attack with a giant claw. Completely negating the effects of the angel's magic.

"Wait. What the fuck?!"

Growling at the attempted surprise attack, the king sent the alpha hurtling to the ground with just a backhand. Hovering over him, full demonic form on display, he had both Charlie and Alastor sitting on one shoulder each. It was a marvelous display of power and strength. One no one would soon be forgetting.

"You come at me, my daughter, and our family?! Don't forget." Letting the two down, Lucifer went into full attack mood, sending punch after punch to Adam. "You're in my house, bitch!"

Stopping himself, the omega blinked and took in the beat-up man under him. Standing with a sigh, he walked out of the carter they were in. "Go home, Adam."

"No. You don't get to end this. Come back. Don't ignore me!" Climbing out after him, the first man was starting to feel desperate. Everything was crashing down around him. He was losing everything.

"This guy doesn't really know when to give up, does he, Lulu?" Beelzebub asked as their team all regrouped.

"No. No, he does not."

"I'm fucking Adam! I'm the fucking man and you're just some fucking clown, or something! I started everything on Earth! All of mankind came from these fucking nuts! You all should be worshiping me you ungrateful, disgusting, fucking losers! Especially you Lucifer! I was your first alpha! You should be with me, dammit!"

"Adam! That's enough. Go home to Emily. She needs you. I'm not going to be the reason our daughter is alone up there with Sera and the rest of the Elders. Especially seeing how much they've ruined you."

"I- ..." That sobered him up really quick. Yes. He needed to get home to his baby girl. Before he could call off the rest of the Exorcists, he felt a sharp pain and then himself falling. 

"No!" 

"Oh, fuck- Adam! Hold on!" Rushing over, Lucifer got ready to heal him. He wasn't going to just let him die. Not when Emily needed him. Not when... he was still attached to his first love.

"Get away from him!"

"Lute- dammit stop! I need to heal him before he dies!" Trying to fight off the angry woman would have been easier if he wasn't trying to concentrate on the healing magic in his free hand. "A little help here guys!"

Lucifer froze once he could no longer feel Adam's soul. No. Fuck! Now their daughter was all alone up there!

"You. This is your fault! You and that little pest that stabbed him!"

Growling, the king kicked the lieutenant away and glared down at her. "Our fault? This is your fault! If you hadn't gotten in my way, I would have been able to heal him! And now he's dead! I can heal injuries, but I can't fucking bring people back from the dead! Take what remains of your army and go home before I kill the rest of you myself!"

Watching them leave, Lucifer fell to his knees and wrapped his arms and wings around himself. Eyes squeezed shut to try and force his tears not to fall. The last time he felt a pain like this was when Emily had been taken from him. He had to keep himself busy. Had to distract himself so he didn't fall back into his depression. He just got out of it! His life had finally been getting back on track!

"Dad... are you okay?"

Taking a deep, slow breath, the king looked up at his strong and beautiful pup. For all his problems and mistakes, managed to raise an amazing young lady. "I... I will be."

"That's great, and I don't mean to just brush all this off, but I think Alastor is dying." Angel altered everyone, getting them back into action.

~

Borrowing the I.M.P. van, Lucifer had Alastor laid on his back and his shirt open to assess the damage that Adam had done. "Oh- that's uh- unholy fuck. He really did a number on you."

"Funny. I hadn't noticed."

"Is now really the time for sarcastic comments?" Taking off his jacket and rolling his shirt sleeves up higher, he called upon his healing magic. "Now, this is going to hurt like, well, Hell. I suggest you find something to bite down on."

"Offering yourself up, sire?"

"If that's what helps you. Here." Straddling the sinner to make sure he didn't jerk around too much during the healing process, the small king held up on arm to his mouth. "Ready?"

Not giving Alastor a chance to answer, he pressed his hand against the injury and his arm into his mouth at the same time. Muffling the pained yells.

~

"Are you sure we should leave Luci alone in there with him?"

"Lulu will be fine, Ozzie. We should be comforting our cute little niece. She's so sad..."

Sitting on the ground, Charlie leaned against Vaggie even though she couldn't find comfort in it like she usually did. Her hotel was destroyed, her friends hurt.... and Dazzle and Pentious were dead. They died for them. For this battle. She had failed them. All of them. She couldn't stop the tears.

Charlie:

He did it for us, the ultimate sacrifice

He gave me his trust and look how we paid the price

This bloodshed could have been avoided if I convince Heaven to work together 

I took a hotel, and I destroyed it

I know I could have done better, better, instead of letting you down

Lucifer:

Come on little lady, why the frown? 

In the last ten-thousand years, you're the first one to change this town

You can do this, now I know it! For your story has just began

You can't quit now, hell, you owe it

There's still damage to be undone

You've changed my mind, you've touched their hearts

Found the good in souls gone bad

The stage is wrecked, the crowd is gone

But by God, Charlie! The show it must go on

Alastor watched in astonishment as Lucifer was able to rally this sad troop after they came back from the rather draining healing session. It really is scary how alike him and Charlie were. Now, why should they have all the fun?

Everyone (besides Charlie):

We can do this, we can build it

Best hotel that you've ever seen

Twice the bedrooms, we can fill it

Lucifer & Alastor: 

With more sinners than you can dream

Lucifer, Alastor & Vaggie:

It starts with you

Lucifer, Alastor, Vaggie, Angel:

You know it's true

Everyone (besides Charlie):

Fulfill your destiny!

Charlie:

So long as I've got all of you with me

Just like that, everyone started on clean up and reconstruction. Effortlessly working together and around each other.

Niffty:

To build a hotel, I think we need some brick and lumber

Lucifer:

Good thing we're Hell

Check out this little magic number

Having Keekee turn into her form as a giant key, he conjured up materials that they would need. Letting out his wings, he quickly took to the sky to survey the area before dropping down on Alastor's shoulder.

Angel & Fizz:

Start with foundation

Lucifer:

A remedial creation for me

Niffty, Angel, Lucifer, Alastor & Fizz:

It's as easy as can be!

Charlie:

No time for cryin'

Charlie & Bee:

We got a lot of work to do and

Charlie, Bee, Ozzie:

We gotta try and make the best of what's in ruin

With the help of Beelzebub and Asmodeus, Charlie passed out tools to Blitzo, Loona, Moxxie, and Mammon to help Cherri with her section of work.

Vaggie & Millie:

New coat of paint!

Husk & Vortex:

New lights across the marquee

Charlie, Bee, Ozzie, Vaggie, Millie, Husk, & Vortex:

With a little sorcery

Vox:

After the battle, masterless cattle

Vox & Val:

Overlords hanging by a thread

With a bit of bravado, maybe tomorrow

We'll be atop the heap

Val:

While the rest of Hell's pissing

Vox:

Alastor's missing

Vox & Val:

Fled with his tail between his legs

Nature abhors a power vacuum

It leaves room for you and me

The future of Hell belongs to the Vee's

Everyone (besides Charlie):

We can do this

Charlie:

We can do this

Everyone (besides Charlie):

We'll be better

Charlie:

We'll be better

Everyone (besides Charlie):

Though redemption may take a while

Charlie:

Though it may take a while

Everyone (besides Charlie):

Wayward sinners clear their ledger

Alastor:

And we're doing it with a smile!

Charlie:

We'll make a difference, wait and see

Charlie & Vaggie:

We're gonna do this you and me

Everyone:

And then tomorrow, it'll be a fuckin' happy day in Hell!

~

Standing in front of the hotel they all worked hard to rebuild together, Lucifer couldn't keep the smile off his face. He felt like he had truly accomplished something and had done something to help Charlie towards her dream. Not just financial support or arranging meets. He was actively involved in it now, and he was going to change that for anything.

"Look at this place! We should totally throw a party."

Giggling, Charlie started to lead everyone inside. "Aunt Bee. Come on, nothing too wild. Save that for your ring."

"Alright, alright, baby cakes."

"Thanks for putting aside your feud with me and Fizzy to come support Luci and Charlie."

"Anything for my favorite little Morningstar. Especially with those angels getting involved."

Freezing, it felt as if someone powerful had just entered Hell. It couldn't be... but it was.

"Dad? Are you coming?"

"Hm?" Snapping out of his thoughts, Lucifer smiled at the hand offered to him. "Yeah. Sorry, sweetie. But could you and Vaggie bring Adam here? I can sense his soul at the Embassy."

< Previous

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[landsharkbite]

In the lobby of one apartment building in Archimedes and sometime in the last hour or so, a pattern has emerged around the incoming foot traffic. A resident would enter through the double doors, stroll to the closest elevator, punch the button and wait for it to open only to very quickly back away from what waited inside. They’d change course all but immediately, rushing to try their luck at the only other lift available which would invariably respond at one tenth of a snail's pace. Not many residents would be willing to challenge the marathon of a stairwell, not in this tall an edifice.

Were the very bored-looking concierge paying more attention (god forbid they look up from their monthly edition of Radiale’s Digest), they might do their due diligence and at least try to tell off the party responsible— namely you.

Ever since the cabbie picked you up at the edge of that unnerving crater in the center of town (it had to be artificial, you know from experience that no natural excavation is that uniform) you’ve been in what you can only describe as a fugue state, swimming through fog enough in your head to fill a valley. The man dropped you off in the pristine parking lot out front, told you to pick up your key at the desk, and after you stepped out into the sun he drove away, seeming somehow bored of the entire affair. Such a bizarre, trivial thing, but your brain can’t help but latch onto it. Why didn’t he seem surprised to see you?

Your confusion mainly stems from having seen that the vast majority of pedestrians you passed by on the ride here were human, or they seemed human. There are those like you who pass among them (you count a few among your acquaintances) but you didn’t see any telltale cautious head-swiveling in the crowds to fit the bill. You don’t remember being exactly welcomed among humans before, nor do you recall ever clamoring to be. Did you crack your head falling off the wagon somehow and lose time to the ether? When did that change?

The concierge handed you an impressive, ornate key, told you in a sleepy voice to take it to the top floor and went back to their reading material. It sounded like a prank. You’ve never been summoned to the top floor of fancy building like this save for when you were to be reprimanded by a superior.

The glass exterior of the elevator would soon show you a sprawling landscape of the ward, dotted with sparkling buildings of whites and off-whites in stark contrast to what you assume are three other wards of different cultural and architectural climates. You're struck by the sight... until your gaze drifts to focus on the lines of your reflection in the glass, made faint with blazing sunlight.

It takes a moment. Something is wrong. You freeze, then all at once you can't shed your jacket fast enough to confirm your suspicion. It's your arm.

Where the hell is your arm.

Panic cut through the cloud in your skull like a hot knife through butter and dropped you like a ton of bricks— you've been glued to the carpet since, pale with a pounding heart and a stomach twisted into knots. No matter how many times gravity shifts with the elevator's demands or the door slides open to welcome ultimately no one, you're too weighed down in your stupor to move. No wonder frustration is mounting on the ground floor. But you can't bring yourself to care, not when you've been beaten over the brow with a unknowable jigsaw puzzle and only a scant handful of pieces with which to put it together.

What are you forgetting? How long have you been here? What about your work? Just how much time are you missing? Are there any other body parts of yours scattered over this city that you don't know about?

You wither and shake your head, staring at your unnatural set digits as if they would up and spill their secrets all at once if you glared at them hard enough.

“What the fuck is going on?!”

Your head spinning, you finally drag yourself up and out of the lift once and for all— but not before quickly smashing your palms over each and every button on the directory panel in a petty fit of pique.

[misc-obeyme]

CC questionnaire!

Did you pay your taxes? If not, tax time :3

Favorite color/colors?

Least favorite obey me character?

Character you think is overrated?

The character you think is over-hated?

Most interesting thing you know about a character?

A question you have about a character?

Bows for barb

I do indeed pay my taxes. Every year I get that shit done as soon as possible so I don't forget to do it by the deadline. I also don't have a choice when it comes to income tax, they do that without me getting involved. Let us not forget the taxes they take on my house which I also pay every year. They do that without me needing to get involved, too, unless they fuck it up. Which they have. And then I am playing phone roulette with the mortgage company trying to explain to each separate rep why my escrow needs to be redone for months. Do I wish I had Mammon around to help me commit tax fraud? NOOOOO of course not who would suggest such a thing?

Oops sorry. I didn't mean to get on a tax tangent lol. I wish I knew less about it, tbh.

Moving on, my favorite color is yellow! Second favorite is purple. I especially love them together. Third is the dark teal of Barb's hair, I am not joking. I have a fountain pen ink that's similar to that color and it's my favorite thing ever.

I don't have a least favorite character, I'm afraid. I've tried to answer that particular question before and failed miserably. I think the only character I was able to actually list was Father because he seems super sus to me and I do not like him. But I also assume you're talking about characters with sprites? In which case, I love them all~

I used to think Lucifer was overrated, but I've come around to him. I think the version of him where he's super strict and angry all the time is overrated. I see why people like it, but I just prefer to think of him as a secretly soft single dad type.

Solomon, easily. Asmo is up there, too, but I find most people don't hate him quite so much. It's more like they don't prefer him. Although I don't write for Asmo as much as the others, I love him to pieces. Solomon, on the other hand, has quite a few haters. And like I get it. Everybody is free to feel how they feel about any character they like! I just don't have the capacity to hate anybody even fictional characters adlkfjdjf. That's on me for being a big baby.

Erm... I don't think there's anything specific I know about the characters that everybody else doesn't already know? I certainly can't think of anything. I always wanna bring up Barb's love of heavy metal, but then again I always think everybody's aware of that by now.

Obviously my main questions are for Barbatos and Solomon. And they're both plot related. What is Barbatos so angry about in Nightbringer? What did he do before he made his vow to Diavolo? How does Solomon know Nightbringer? What happened when he summoned Barbatos? What happened when he fought the Devildom by himself and disappeared in a field of flowers? I HAVE QUESTIONS.

[anons-has-hlvrai-aus]

The Metamorphosis of Gordon Freeman [Chapter 8]

String Theory

Chapter 1 | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary: When life gives you Worm on a String, summon skeletons…I guess.

Word Count: 2,610

Ao3 Version

Notes: This is a much shorter chapter for how long it took me to get finished, but I hope it’s fun regardless! And fun fact for Tumblr readers! If I worked things out correctly, there’ll be another new chapter tomorrow both on Ao3 AND here for Halloween!

“Oh, shit.” Gordon held up one of the Squirmles they had bought. “Did you forget to give this one to Tommy?”

Benrey shook his head, pushing the first Squirmle closer to Gordon’s chest and grabbing the other from off the table. He phased a hand through the packaging to pluck free the little blue worm from its disposable prison. “This is a friendship gift.”

Gordon haphazardly followed Benrey’s example with collecting his own worm, careful with the spool of fishing line that came with it as he examined the little toy: it was comfortably fuzzy and folded into itself within his palm, the googly eyes that clung onto the perceived face of the worm were as endearing as they were silly.

“So…what, like a friendship bracelet?”

Benrey hummed in affirmation while he made a mess of the fishing line from his worm. He dragged the toy around, performing basic tricks with it for a few minutes before squinting at it for a long while. “…don’t like the string.”

“It’s part of the toy.” Gordon explained matter-of-factly. “You can’t make it do tricks without it.”

“But he looks so sad with the string. Look at him. Look at this face.”

He did. It looked like any other Squirmle.

“He can’t show it but he HATES the string.”

The not-human squinted again, this time at the thread and started to bring it close to his mouth of sharp teeth.

“Don’t-! Do NOT use your teeth to remove the string. You’ll fuck up your mouth doing that.”

“Oh.” Benrey pulled the worm away to stare at it. A rustling noise came from the oven.

“What the hell was that?”

The door of the oven swung open, a pair of boney hands pulling out the skeleton attached to them.

“…w…wha-?”

“Hey man.” Benrey smiled a bit as he turned to the now slowly approaching skeleton. “This is my friend.” He looked back at Gordon.

“I don’t…how long has that been in there?”

The skeleton took the worm from Benrey’s hands and observed the fishing line attached. It opened its jaw and in a single, swift motion, bit off the string from the base of whatever knot was keeping it tied to the worm itself. The fishing wire elegantly fell to the floor of the room, soon to be discarded by either occupant of the house while the worm was delicately returned to Benrey’s possession.

“Why…why did you do that?” Gordon asked.

“He free…” Benrey responded with a fleeting smile.

“You’re not gonna be able to play with the worm anymore. You only had him for a minute, and you’ve completely cut off your only way to play with it.”

“You can always get more string for later.”

“I mean…fair enough?”

Benrey fiddled with the worm again. Its movements were significantly less clumsy without the string, but it clearly wasn’t as fun to play with.

“See? You can’t really enjoy it as much without the string.”

“He’s much happier like this.”

“It’s a toy worm. Whatever feelings you think it has are far from real, so there’s no actual harm in putting a new string around it.”

“Look.” Benrey held the worm in front of Gordon’s face again. “Should I allow my personal desires to get in the way of other people’s happiness?”

“You are overthinking the ramifications of playing with a worm that has a string around its nose.” He sighed. The worm’s googly-eyed stare went on for miles. “Are you gonna put a new string on it or not?”

Benrey shrugged. “Maybe I might, or maybe don’t. Maybe, sometime. Or never. Maybe.”

“I guess anything could happen, huh?” Gordon looked at his own worm, still fully stringed. It actually wasn’t too bad of a gift for how cheap it was. He could snake it around his fingers, or let it sit in his palm. It fit very nicely in his shirt pocket and was very endearing in how it stuck its nose out when it did.

He wouldn’t dare carry it around with him. Not unless he made it into a keychain somehow, but then his worm wouldn’t really be usable as a toy anymore, either.

“Thanks for the help, man.” Benrey told the skeleton.

It walked through a wall to the outside, leaving a trail of green to blue sweet voice in Gordon’s direction when it did.

It was all just a bit strange, but also pleasant.

For now, he would cherish the little toy as it was, and decidedly not question the thing with the skeleton.

It was only one skeleton, and it wasn’t like it would be staying here all night…

-

It was dark.

It was too dark.

He wasn’t sure why, he had regularly exposed himself to darkness many times before for a long time now, but something happened this time.

Maybe he turned the lights off too fast.

Maybe his mind was still racing from the day’s many confusions.

Maybe…

Metal footsteps clunked on the concrete floor while They searched for a light switch. Gordon’s eyes were a conduit for Them to perceive the world, his mouth for communication, his legs for travel.

It was with great dread that Gordon knew where he was, and that The Player did not, and that as such he would be forced to endure the dark room instead of turning tail for the exit.

Because the dark room was not just a room, and somewhere in his gut, no, in his code, before he even knew what sentience was, he knew this wasn’t just a room.

There was a box that wasn’t checked, a trigger that went off incorrectly, it screamed out that something was wrong and that it needed to be fixed.

“Thief! Thief!! Thief!!!”

But Gordon knew, he wasn’t sure how, but he knew that nothing had been stolen, especially not the game itself. Perhaps that’s why Benrey always said he was trying to steal something…the game’s way of trying to tell Them before that something was wrong.

But the game couldn’t know, it was an incomplete product. Bugs were bound to happen.

But this was a dangerous bug to overlook, so easy to set off by mere accident. Maybe something about the way the headset was registered messed with the triggers, Gordon couldn’t really recall anymore. It had been common information at some point, but it was lost the moment he was removed from the game.

How many versions of him existed? And how many had lost a hand due to some fault in the very fabric of his old reality?

He wanted to run out of the room but he could not. The Player could not. A scripted event was a scripted event.

His reality was fake. He was fake.

But the pain was real.

Gordon screamed.

Or maybe They did it for him.

Any moment where They didn’t have control over him was its own sort of pain, a hollowness.

Gordon screamed.

The room was too dark.

His body waited for somebody to take the reins, to fill the terrible and wonderful hollowness.

There was a pain in his arm.

Gordon tried to scream.

His mouth was not his own, could not speak unless spoken through.

A dull, deepish voice spoke to him, far too muffled for him to understand but mostly likely antagonistic.

Red and yellow and teal and cyan and red and yellow and teal and cyan and red and yellow and teal and cyan and, and, and, and-

And

And

Pigments mixed into mud.

Shades of blue emerged and just as quickly were blotted out by more brown.

Gordon could not scream.

His wrists, which he was always careful to never look at directly when preoccupying himself with objects in his hands, itched and for a moment he felt an old, comfortable, agonizing tug at them.

Gordon could not scream.

Gordon could not scream.

Gordon could not scream.

Gordon could not scream.

Gordon could not dream.

Gordon could not love.

Gordon could not feel.

Gordon could not move.

Gordon could not think.

Gordon could not grow.

Gordon could not stagnate.

Gordon could not-

Something was tucked into his hand, the one that wasn’t chopped off.

Soft, friendly, comfortable.

The mud cleared from his vision.

The lights were on. They had been for a bit.

His arms didn’t tug, didn’t itch.

The floor was not concrete.

His body, not encapsulated in an unfeeling shell.

Gordon looked around, a head of dark hair receded sheepishly behind a door frame while an off-white blur quickly vanished into the wall to his immediate left. His fingertips gently rolled around the item put into his hand. The little dots of plastic and the tiny spool among the soft body made clear what he had been given.

It was so simple and so innocuous, and also so notably disconnected to his past. Of all the things to ground him back to reality…this had been the most odd. So baffling in its arrival, yet very welcome with how different it was from those horrible sensations.

He held onto the worm with his flesh hand, petting it with his thumb while he kept the lights on and lay onto his back.

He was here, and he was now, and he was safe.

Phantom pain came and went through his right side, which wasn’t unusual given his arm situation.

He sighed, and after a while called out to Benrey. The man immediately came back around from the other side of the door frame. His eyes lacked emotion, his mouth was preoccupied with what looked like a large lump of the igneous rock, likely taken from a bag in the garage from when his house once had a shrubbery that used the rock as bedding.

“M’yeah?” Benrey mumbled, the rock falling out of his mouth when he did. He silently swore and picked it up off the carpet.

“…why did you…?” Gordon tried to say, but as he rolled the Squirmle around his hand a bit more, he changed his mind. “…how…?”

“My normal voice was uh…making you worse, and Sweet Voice wasn’t helping so…” He looked around the room for a second, “Wasn’t sure what to do. I’m not…” he whispered something about not recognizing the house he was in before continuing, glancing at Gordon’s right arm while he did so. “My friends didn’t want me touching that hand. Told me to put the worm in your other hand. So I did that.”

“…you’ve comforted me before, though, with jokes and stuff…”

“Time is weird.” He sniffed the air awkwardly, looking at Gordon with an odd look.

“Well…I appreciate it, Benrey.” Gordon looked at the clock on his nightstand for a distraction.

“…how do I calm you down again without Sweet Voice?”

He sat up to stare at the non-human. Benrey had comforted him before without the use of Sweet Voice, he could clearly remember it during his first SV lesson and had assumed that Coomer or Tommy had taught him. Benrey should have been able to remember comforting him like that…and he surely should have remembered the house he’d been living in for the past few weeks.

“……Benrey.”

Benrey didn’t look at him.

He said his name again, this time getting his attention.

“That’s my name?”

“…Benrey, do you have memory issues?”

Benrey stared blankly at Gordon before answering with a quiet “sometimes.”

He was about to say something but was cut off.

��It’s weird. Time is weird. I’m supposed to be in my room…But brain said ‘nah man you gotta go see this’ so I did. This is a nice house. Much better than my room..”

“Do you-? Your most recent memory right now is…before we’ve even-? Is this permanent?”

“Nah.” Benrey shook his head and started chewing on the rock more. “Future Benrey thought it was important so I listened.”

“Future Benrey?”

“Or I guess Present Benrey for you. That would make me uh…Past Benrey, for you, I think. Unless this is before they fucked with my head…”

“Before WHO fucked with your head?”

Benrey seemed to go completely still, squinting his eyes for a minute before replying. “…what?”

“You said somebody fucked with your head.”

“Oh. Somebody did do that, yeah.”

“Who?”

“Uh…” He looked around. “Oh shit, nice house. Much better than-”

Gordon interrupted this time, shaking his head. “Nevermind. You wanted me to tell you how to comfort me without Sweet Voice. I don’t really know what kind of memory problem you’re dealing with right now so I’m just gonna…roll with the punches and go ahead and tell you since you asked.”

“Okay.” He pursed his lips and attempted some sort of expression that was ultimately unreadable.

“Is that supposed to be-? What kind of face is that? It needs a little work.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Gordon sighed, and held his left hand open, the Squirmle still sitting within. “I have issues with people touching my right hand. I’m hoping you know why.”

“The uh…military.”

“Yes, that’s right. So…because I have issues with my right hand being touched…I would prefer that if I start freaking out…you do something with my left hand. For some reason it grounds me…but nothing past the wrist. I don’t…” He avoided looking at the hand longer than he needed to, “Not the wrist. Just the hand. Tommy and Coomer have found that squeezing it works best, but any sort of touch seems to work, like-”

“Worm?”

Gordon paused and…looked back at the hand. For a moment he didn’t feel afraid to stare as a pair of googly eyes did the same back at him from the safety on his palm. “…Yeah. Like worm, I guess.”

“Cool.” Benrey nodded. “…I’m gonna look around.”

“Go ahead, man. Your stuff is in the attic if you wanna play on your PlayStation.”

“Oh shit roommies.”

“Yep.”

“Awesome.” Before stepping out of view, Benrey looked back at Gordon with weary eyes. “You gonna be okay, man?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I can leave a friend here if you need protection.”

“You mean a skeleton?”

He nodded. “They’re my friends.”

Gordon began to lay back down while he pondered Benrey’s words. “You keep calling them your friends…where do they come from? Do you like…make them?”

Humorously, Benrey ended up looking at the wall before just…shrugging. “Idunnoman. Shit’s weird.” He let out a small chuckle.

“Fuckin’ TELL me about it.” Gordon laughed with him. “I’m going to sleep. I guess you can keep some skeletons around the house if you’re THAT worried about me, but they better not overstay their welcome.”

“Nice.”

Gordon reached out to a lamp on his nightstand to turn on, but a bony hand beat him to it, turning the lamp on while a ‘friend’ on Benrey’s side of the room materialized and turned off the overhead light, but only after Gordon gave it a silent affirmation to do so.

The Squirmle stayed in Gordon’s left palm for the rest of the night, his thumb petting its fuzzy head rhythmically until he was able to drift to sleep.

His head swarmed in the meantime with questions about Benrey. His strange talks about “Past Benrey” and “Future Benrey” and his apparent memory issues were nothing short of enigmatic. Did this have any correlation to Tommy’s sudden anger at Gordon, earlier?

But that wouldn’t make sense. A memory issue wouldn’t prevent somebody from being able to become a normal person, maybe slow them down a bit at worst. Forzen had it figured out, and Gordon had only found out a couple weeks ago that he had a memory issue.

So it was definitely something else.

Whatever the problem was, he would just have to figure it out later.

[emmy-dekarios-bg3]

Heart of the Weave - Chapter 3

I get dinner prepared and have it ready for Gale on the stove once he’s finished with his studies. Sweet potatoes, green beans, and some delicious steak I got from a nearby butcher. I ate just a little, but nausea found me again like a cold-blooded killer, so I lay back down on the sofa, feeling overwhelmed with these disgusting feelings. The body aches make themselves present as well, bringing an overwhelming extra sense of discomfort along with the struggle to breathe properly, as if a heavy stone is sitting on my lungs.

“Emmy, my dear, won’t you go to the city to see a doctor?” Tara asks, sitting on my legs. I sigh and begin scratching her tiny, soft head. She purrs as I stroke her soft fur with the tips of my fingers.

“Is there even a doctor here in Waterdeep? Surely there is, right?” I ask. Droplets of sweat pour down my forehead like waterfalls, but chills cover my entire body. Hot flashes certainly are not a good sign.

“Unfortunately, no. There was, but they left. Now, one must travel to Baldur’s Gate to get any sort of treatment. With the evil gone, it would be worth a try.”

“I’m a little paranoid of doctors anyway, thanks to the House of Healing.” The scalpels. The blood. The screeches of the nurses.

“The House of…what?” I forgot Tara wasn’t familiar with the disturbing events that happened in the Shadowlands, one of them being a fucked-up doctor who murdered patients and considered it curing them. In the name of Shar, of course. The images of a hollowed-out human head and the mutilation of the human torso isn’t exactly a pleasant memory I want to be reminded of.

“Nevermind.”

“If you want to feel better, you will need to travel to Baldur’s Gate, I’m afraid.” Hearing the words ‘Baldur’s Gate’ is bringing back more trauma than I anticipated, and I was born there. How things have changed ever so drastically, but how badly I want to find answers. Maybe it won’t be so bad; maybe the entire city has changed since the death of Lord Enver Gortash and his obnoxious Steel Watch.

“What do you think could be wrong with me?” I ask, my voice raspy and weak. “I’ve never felt so awful. Well, not in a long time anyway. Not since the Bhaal Temple.” Ah, yes. The lingering odor of rotting corpses is definitely hard to forget. Then again, the adrenaline rush made it hard for me to stay sick and eventually the rancid odor was easily accustomed to. Sad, isn’t it?

“I don’t want to say, just because I don’t want Gale to overhear me.” Tara knows something, or at least has a strong suspicion, but why doesn’t she want Gale to know? “Plus, I could always be wrong.”

Gale comes down to the kitchen, grabbing his dinner but notices my dreary body on the sofa shortly after. He stares at my heavy eyes, bags sagging underneath them as if I’m a decaying corpse or rapidly aging somehow. My fatigue is making itself known, inside and out. Back when I was fighting and saving the day, no spells would make me feel this dreadful, so whatever this is must be serious.

“Baby, we need to take you to a doctor. As soon as possible.” His voice is filled with concern; he can’t stand to see me like this. I groan loudly, but take a moment to catch my breath. Walking to Baldur’s Gate will be a huge pain in my body, but surely I’m not dying. Whatever it takes, right?

“Can’t we just…call Shadowheart? Where’s that old man Withers?” Gale laughs lightly, admiring my humor but it quickly fades to a serious tone again.

“You’re so cute. Well, we can certainly try to summon the bone man, but I’m not quite sure neither him or Shadowheart will be able to assist in your vile and spontaneous predicament.”

“Unfortunately, we will need our other companions regardless. It seems the only option is to go to Baldur’s Gate for some sort of diagnosis or cure.” Gale sits down by my feet, rubbing them with his bare hands. He half-smiles as he delicately attends to my aching body, but I can see in his eyes a sense of fear.“I assume Tara told you. Quite the intelligent tressym she is. Must have gotten it from her father,” Gale teases. I can’t help but laugh at his little comment. I often wonder how this man loves me as much as he does; I’m no sage.

“Well, of course she did! Now, wait…” Gale gives me a puzzled expression. “It’ll take us days to get there and you work at the Academy tomorrow.” He kissed my forehead, and at that very moment I realized the heat radiating off my body; I could feel it on his lips. A fever.

“It’s much appreciated that you consider my job in mind, but you mean the world to me and your life is valuable. I don’t want to risk losing you again. Plus, a fever is certainly not a good sign. What if you have some sort of internal infection? You never know how the world is nowadays.”

So, we decided to call upon Withers. We found him in a tomb and he, for some reason, has helped us ever since. He can help resurrect those who die (most of the time, anyway), and can assist us in various ways if we’re struggling. He’s been a godsend to us.He gave us a spell for us to summon him in case we’re in danger or need of dire assistance: Mort Tal Witheris. At that very moment it was cast by Gale, he showed up in our living room. His decayed skeleton-like body and gentle mannerisms are hard to forget. I wonder what the old bone man has been up to these days.

“Ah, Withers. Thank the Gods the spell worked. Listen, we have a very urgent…uh…task that we need to handle,” Gale says, then looks over at me with sad eyes, realizing I’m becoming more weak by the minute. Withers makes eye contact with me, observing my body’s weakness and nods his head slowly. It’s as if he knows and Gale doesn’t even have to tell him. The question is, does he know what’s wrong with me? Surely the honest and blunt Withers would say what it is, right?

“Ah, thou art in need of services. It appears she is very weak and needs medical attention urgently. I advise the journey over to Baldur’s Gate but it appears there will need to be extra assistance on the way there. Does thou need the former companions to make their way there?” It’s as if Withers immediately knew the urgency of the situation and figured it would be hard for Gale to fight alone, in case anything were to happen along the way.

“Oh thank Withers… We need our companions to help assist us on yet another journey to Baldur’s Gate. Emmy is violently ill and I can’t have her fight if there is danger. Is this something you can help us with?” Gale and Withers both look at my dreadful eyes and weak posture.

“I shall call upon thy companions to guide you along this journey. May the weave protect her and the spawn as you make your way back to Baldur’s Gate. Wait here for a moment.” Withers vanishes into thin air, a cloud of vapor lingering around the room for a moment.

“Wait, what did he mean by ‘spawn’? I wonder if he was referring to Tara,” Gale teases.

“Gale! I’m offended!” I laugh at Tara’s remark with her sassy tone. Hopefulness is more present than doubt at this point, and I’m really looking forward to finding a solution to this illness. It doesn’t feel like a stomach bug, but rather much worse. Please don’t let it be some sort of infection or parasite. I could honestly live with anything else.

Just a few moments later, Withers appears in the room once more.

“Thy companions should be here by tomorrow. Please make sure she stays hydrated. It’s more vital than you acknowledge.”

“Thank you,” I say with a soft voice. He nods and vanishes once more. I wonder where he disappears in the meantime. Gale and I look at each other, both of us just a little nervous but thankful that Withers came through after all. I wonder what lies in store for us?

“Well, Withers is helping us, and I’m forever grateful for it. That’s a good sign,” I comment, my voice weak as the words escape my lips.

“True. Despite the rather petrifying circumstances, it’s a good day. We’ll get to see our old friends once more, just like we talked about earlier.” Though feeling rather vile, I do have a small glimmer of excitement that’s keeping me going.

[your-divine-ribs]

Kinktober 💜 Confession

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It's nearly four weeks since my last confession."

Words: 1.4k // Demon Van (Pure) // corruption

Kinktober Masterlist Main Masterlist

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It's nearly four weeks since my last confession."

Your hands wring nervously in your lap, fingers twisting around each other ceaselessly. You're hyper-aware of your fidgeting but you need that movement to stave off the nerves that trickle through you like ice cold water. You'd be trembling if not.

You're a good girl. You do your chores. You're always polite. You go to church and you pray every night before bed. You never disrespect your parents and you always do as you're told. Well... almost always.

Your thoughts trail back to that fateful night three weeks ago, how your best friend had persuaded you to go to a party against your better judgement. You didn't normally attend parties, your parents didn't approve and in any case, the music was usually too loud, the girls too drunk, the boys too brash and suggestive. You preferred to stay at home, blush about all the scandalous things that occurred when your friends recounted them to you the following day.

But this time you'd gone. It was a spur of the moment thing, likely brought on by the two glasses of cherry brandy that your friend had sneakily procured from her parent's drinks cabinet for you, and you'd been regretting the decision ever since. You'd not overindulged in the alcohol that was freely flowing or smoked any of the weed that was being passed around, you'd not even succumbed to the charms of any of the boys who'd flirted shamelessly with you. But you'd done something. And that thing was so much worse.

“Tell me everything." The smooth voice carrying through the latticed wood of the confessional box cuts through your anxious thoughts and you swallow thickly, mind racing as you try to work out where to begin.

“Maybe start at the beginning?" The voice suggests and you smile despite your nerves. It's almost as if the priest can read your mind.

“I attended a party... three weeks ago, and I shouldn't have gone, I know that now." Whilst you speak you look forward so you can pretend that there's no one else here, that you're not really about to unburden your evil actions on to a man of God.

“Well, a party's not a sin," comes the voice and you smile again. This obviously isn't the usual priest, he's always so quiet and stern, only saying the bare minimum and then giving his blessing almost like he's reluctant to do so. You never feel absolved when you leave, in fact the whole experience makes you feel heavier rather than lighter.

“It was what I did when I was there," you say quietly, nerves bristling, the guilt and the shame flooding you as you grapple with your conscience.

"Take your time... there's no judgment here." His voice is so soft and gentle, soothing like a caress, and you wonder what he looks like beyond the screen. He sounds young... and nice... You wonder what he looks like. Is he attractive?

What are you doing Y/N? Your mind screams at you. You're in the middle of confession and you're wondering about the attractiveness of the priest? What the fuck is wrong with you?

This is the problem. Ever since you went to that damn party you've been having these... thoughts. Sexual thoughts. Ever since your friend and that new no-good boyfriend of hers roped you into playing that stupid 'Summon the Devil' game there. It was ridiculous really, pricking your finger over a candle and reciting some childish verse like a primary school kid. You'd regretted it as soon as you'd done it and you'd slunk off, swiftly leaving the party soon after when a mysterious and beautiful stranger had appeared from the shadows and given you the fright of your life.

You tried to forget all about it but your mind worked against you. That night you'd struggled to sleep, tossing and turning, your sheets damp with perspiration and tangled around your limbs when sleep had finally claimed you. But then the dreams had started up about the mysterious stranger...

A shiver passes through you but it's not an unpleasant one, it's the same curious sticky heat that washes over you when you awaken from one of those dreams. You shift on the wooden pew of the confessional box, willing your mind to think of holy things to chase away the throb between your legs.

"You're troubled by your thoughts," the priest says. “You feel guilty about them.”

Your cheeks warm. Gosh... he's really insightful... but you suppose most people giving confession are probably wracked with guilt or troubled in some way.

“Tell me about them," he urges.

“But don't you want to hear about the party? Don't you want to hear what I did?" Even though you're deeply ashamed for dabbling in the occult you're still keen to confess, certain it's the root of all your current problems.

“That's not important," is the quick reply, surprising you. "I want to hear all about your dark thoughts Y/N... tell me... tell me what you've been dreaming about. I need to know what your dreams make you do on those lonely nights in bed."

Your breath catches in your throat. How the hell does he know your name and what you've been up to? Is he even a priest at all asking these probing questions? Can you trust him? You start to panic.

“No harm will come to you, you can trust me, but you must confess. You must tell me everything. Tell me how your dreams make you feel. It's the only way to stay pure."

His voice is soothing in its timbre once more, making you feel strangely at ease despite your racing heart. You're hesitant but you want to do the right thing. You want to purge yourself of these unholy thoughts and be pure again. You're suddenly overcome with the urge to let it all out.

“The dreams come every night, and they're always the same. They're always about Him." You pause, feeling that familiar yearning again, certain you must be going insane for fixating on this shadowy man who only flitted into your life briefly but seems to have taken up residence in your mind. "They make me feel... I don't know how to explain it... they make me feel... good..." You whisper out the last word like it's illicit and it feels sinful on your tongue. Sinful but delicious.

“Go on," says the priest... if he even is a priest. You're doubting it now and you suddenly find that you don't care anymore. The ache between your legs has taken on a life of its own and you press your thighs together, desperate for some friction.

“Why don't you show me? Show me what your dreams make you do. I need to know to be able to offer you forgiveness for your sins. Show me."

He shouldn't be able to see you through the screen, it's designed that way for privacy, but even so you know that he can somehow. He's in your head, infiltrating your mind, looking through your eyes as they move downwards to see that you've already hitched your demure summer dress up around your thighs.

"I can't do this... not here... not in church," you utter, your breathing choppy.

Even as you're saying the words your hands are on the move, working independently from your mind, a finger lightly ghosting over the lace between your legs. Thoughts of the mysterious stranger cloud your head, pushing everything else away. You know now with certainty that he's the voice behind the screen and that realisation should terrify you... but it doesn't. He's in your bones, he's in your soul, igniting a yearning in you that obliterates your purity. You're lost and you don't want to be found.

“That's it my sweet girl, you're doing so well," he coos, liquid velvet snaking into your ears. "Don't you want to make that ache go away? I could do that for you. I could make you feel better. You just need to say the words."

You know you should resist but you're delirious with need as your finger slides under the lace, an involuntary sensual moan slipping from your lips that sounds alien to your innocent ears.

Your voice is a low whine as you beg him “P... please... I need it... I need... you."

Sorry I stopped just short of the smut 🤭 I really want to add a scene like this into the main story and I don’t want to spoil it. Think of this like a teaser trailer!