#just been wanting to practice drawing them more

[robo-writing]

Hello!! I came from your single mom one shot and I am in love with how you write Logan. Could we have a worst!Logan and wife!reader at a bar and he’s getting hit on relentlessly by a girl who won’t take the hint even though he has stated that he is happily married MULTIPLE TIMES and then reader comes in and rips the girl a new asshole and Logan likes it a little too much and practically drags her home to fuck because of how hot he got from her getting angry and defending him?

How very Beth Dutton of you op! The girl that stands in front of him flashes him a smile—pearly whites, black hair that reaches down to her back, topped off with a low-cut shirt and a pair of jeans that draw the eye of everyone behind the bar—everyone except him that is.

He knows what she wants from him before she can utter a single word, eyes shamelessly moving across his body with not a hint of subtlety. A few years earlier and it might've worked, she's cute enough. A vixen, all doe-eyed and determined, if he was a younger man she might've been his type. But that's all in the past; she's cute, Logan thinks to himself, but she's not his wife. His eyes don't move from where you're standing at the bar, barely giving the girl more than a passing glance as she speaks. "Hey there, mind if I keep you company?" He almost rolls his eyes, but he keeps himself in check in hopes that he can resolve this without any trouble.

"I do unfortunately," he says, flashing the pretty gold band around his finger as he takes another swig of his beer. His fingers play with the ring around his finger, smiling to himself like a love-struck fool when he remembers what it symbolizes. He'd hope that would be the end of it, but unfortunately for him, it is.

The gal's either too drunk or too pig-headed to get the hint, so instead of backing away she leans in real close, too damn close—close enough that it starts to draw your attention from across the bar.

Suddenly your interest isn't in your drink anymore, and before you can walk closer Logan puts his hands up, mouths out lemme handle this, before speaking up again. "Listen, I'm a taken man." He says with a sigh, giving her his full attention. It doesn't deter her in the slightest, a coy smile tugging on the ends of her lips. "That's a shame. Your wife know you're here?" "She does," he nods with a smile, "and she's right over there." He points right to you, where you raise your glass with a thin-lipped smile, sarcasm evident in your body language. He can tell you're in a good mood tonight because you haven't dragged the girl by the hair yet, and he'd rather not ruin the night because she can't take a hint. Surely, she'll leave—except she doesn't. No, she does the exact opposite; she looks back and sees you, laser-focused on the two of them, and with all the audacity in the world, she fucking smiles back. You almost shatter the damn glass in your hand. "Oh, that's alright," she whispers with a wink. "Lemme go talk to her." His eyebrow damn near reaches his hairline, looking at the young girl as if she's truly lost her damn mind. Normally he wouldn't give a damn if someone wants to catch their death, but he takes pity on her for the sole reason that he really doesn't want to get kicked out. "I don't think that's a good idea." "Don't worry," she says, and to put the icing on the cake she puts her hand on his chest, loops her fingers around his dog tags and tugs him down. "I can handle myself." With that one gesture he knows she's just sealed her fate. No, you can't, he wants to say, but she's already making her way across the bar where you stand, looking like hell itself. You know he doesn't have eyes for anyone else but you, but it doesn't matter—someone else touched what's yours, so you have to remind Logan where home is. He's not really sure if he should feel happy that his girl is so protective of him, or sad that he's about to get kicked out of his favorite bar. Logan sighs and puts his beer down, reaching into his pocket and dialing 9-1-1 just as the telltale sound of glass shattering echoes across the bar. It really is a shame—he liked this bar too. The only good thing that comes from tonight—minus the visual of you with blood across your face—is the jaw-dropping sex that ensues the moment the two of you get home, remnants of rage seeping through every touch as you drag him upstairs by the collar. He's more than happy to let you take the lead, content in being your personal scapegoat if it means he gets to see you bounce on his lap like a woman possessed.

Lips intertwined, clothes askew and hair tousled. The taste of iron—a split lip, he remembers—then moans into your mouth when he remembers how you got it. Is it wrong to say you look your most beautiful when you're mad? He doesn't give a shit if it is, especially if his punishment is your pussy gripping him like a vice. He likes you like this—jealous, protective—it's what drew him to you in the first place, how you bite down on what's your and refuse to let go. From the moment you saw him you staked your claim and he was more than happy to follow you for the ride. "You like it when she touched you?" You mutter, lips pressed against his as you ride him for all your worth. Sweat beads off his brow, eyes closed in bliss, he nods his head no but it's not enough—you want to hear him say it. You teeth dig into the skin of his shoulder, a delicious groan erupting from him as you repeat yourself. "Answer me Lo, did you fucking like it?" "No, no—" he gasps, hands wandering across your body. "Wasn't even looking at her, swear to god—" "And who were you looking at?" you ask, and the answer makes your walls flutter across his cock. He lets you hear him loud and clear, giving you a lop-sided grin as he thrusts up into you.

"You, sweetheart, only you." "Louder," you moan, scratching at the expanse of his back, encouraging him. He repeats himself, fucking into your gushing cunt, his words bringing you to a new high with every thrust. His words are long, drawn out, caught in his throat as he struggles between speaking and catching his breath. "Only got eyes for you baby—fuckin' christ—" He speaks long after you've stopped, so engrossed in pleasure you can barely hear anything beyond your ringing ears and the slap of your ass against his thighs. "All yours baby, all fuckin' yours."

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Thirty

Couple of things - I've been going through it lately and just wanted to get this bit out. I do have more planned but I need a break after this. The Carpenters song referenced is 'all you get from love is a love song' and if you don't know it you can give it a listen and then you'll get the 'broken arm' joke.

They squish together into the phone booth, Steve hitting the numbers almost on reflex now, going through the motions of briefly speaking to Robin’s mom.

He angles the receiver so that Eddie can hear too, their cheeks practically touching, “Steve! Chrissy’s here-”

“Why?” Eddie cuts her off immediately, “not time to close the shop,” he almost sounds a little critical when he says it, making Steve smile.

“I know I know,” Chrissy says, “but he came back!”

“So we waited for him to leave, and we followed him,” Robin adds enthusiastically.

If Steve couldn’t hear for himself that they’re both at Robin’s place, and they’re both absolutely fine, he’d be panicking now, maybe he kind of is, because he’s sort of snippy when he says, “Robin what the fuck, it’s not safe, you two aren’t- you’re not Cagney and Lacy for fucks sake.”

“Steve it’s fine,” Chrissy tells him, “he went to Starcourt, so we went home and called Hopper right away.”

“Good,” Steve breathes a sigh of relief, “okay, so what now?”

“We don’t know,” Robin admits, “we’re just waiting to hear now. See what happens?”

“Okay we could...Eddie, you want to kill some time in town, and we can call again later?”

“Yeah” Eddie pulls back his sleeve to check his princess watch, “...lunch. And shopping?”

“Sure thing baby.”

Chrissy squeaks down the phone, “oh you’re both just too cute together.”

“Oh my god don’t encourage them.”

“Oh!” Chissy starts, “I met El and all the rest of the kids, isn’t she just, so cool? She made some pens float around!”

“El is the fewest bad kid. She’s quiet,” Eddie agrees, but Steve is absolutely certain Eddie’s warmed to the kids a lot over the last couple of months, so he knows Eddie doesn’t really mean it like that.

“Least,” Steve corrects softly, “she’s the least bad. Probably.”

“Best of a bad bunch?” Robin hazards.

“Maybe,” Eddie tells her, “we can come home soon?”

“Errrr…I mean, see what Hopper says, I guess? We might know later, but you guys shouldn’t come back today anyway, it’s a few hours drive, and you’ll need to pack up and everything, right?”

Steve frowns, as Eddie, very briefly, looks sad, “maybe tomorrow,” he says to Eddie more than the girls, “is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, “I...like the flower shop?”

“You miss it?”

“Yes, and Chrissy. Miss them. I know they’re not gone but...they’re not here.”

“Oh Eddie honey, I miss you too, okay? And when you get back you can come into work, there’s stuff to catch up on,” she whispers then, “Robin isn’t good with the flowers like you.”

“Hey! I’m trying my best here-” but she gives up, everyone else laughing over her.

The payphone starts to beep, “we’ll call later okay!”

Steve’s pretty sure Eddie’s jar will be empty again after today. He’s bought four more records, more Led Zeppelin, plus a Dio record because ‘Rainbow in the Dark’ was playing when they walked in and Eddie really liked it. Steve absolutely certain that the girl with a green Mohawk wearing a Dio shirt sealed the deal, but he's not going to tease Eddie about it.

Eddie comes out of the changing room of the second hand clothes store, showing Steve the jeans he’s trying on. He’s been making do all this time with Steve’s draw string sweats and jeans with a very cinched in belt, so it’s definitely time for Eddie to choose his own things but...Steve wasn’t expecting Eddie to choose anything quite so tight.

“Stevie? What do you think?”

Steve swallows thickly before he answers, he swears Eddie’s only getting away with wearing them because his dicks on the inside, the thing would get strangled otherwise, “you look really good Eds. You like those ones?”

“Yes. Black, like my tail. And look,” Eddie scratches at the ripped fabric, his knees on display, “see my knees. I like to see them, they’re new.”

Steve bites his lips briefly to suppress the chuckle, “you should definitely be proud of those knees, you did grow them yourself.”

Steve frowns at the sight of Eddie in a leather jacket; it’s so very far removed from everything he’s been wearing. It’s so different from all of Steve’s clothes, but Steve can’t deny he’s making it work. It definitely suits the look Eddie’s starting to cultivate. He’s very much leaning towards darker colors, and he was really pleased when he turned up a Led Zeppelin tee shirt out of a pile.

The difference between the Eddie that comes out of the dressing room and the Eddie that went in is startling, Steve’s pullovers and polos all tend to be lighter colors, so all the black is very different.

“You like it?”

“I mean, as long as you like it, sure, you’re the one who has to wear it. But yeah, yeah I do like it. You look good.”

Steve has to stand by while Eddie rummages across a tray of cheap jewellery, “they’ll turn your fingers green,” he warns vaguely. Eddie shrugs, probably not understanding what Steve means as he tries things on, he likes the shiny silver ones that definitely are not silver, “you’re such a magpie.”

Eddie chooses two chunky rings that are so cheap he will get change from his last five dollars, but he clearly likes how they look on his fingers; he doesn’t even take them off to pay for them. Steve knows he’s just here to hold the bags, but he doesn’t mind. Eddie’s worked hard for this money, he should spend it on the things he wants.

Steve meanders through the store, it’s mostly second hand furniture and ‘antiques’, but Steve figures that term is being used very, very loosely. As near as Steve can tell it mostly looks like house clearances and that sort of thing. He spends a little while at the glass cabinets, staring at all the little figurines. 'Dust gatherers,' his dad calls them. There’s some tiny little jade ones, big tall porcelain ones and everything in between.

He’s distracted away from them by the sound of twanging. Bad, uneven twanging on an acoustic guitar. Steve follows the sound, finding Eddie just fiddling with the strings, the guitar still lying on it’s back. It doesn’t have a case, and looks pretty beat to hell to Steve, covered in stickers and all scratched up, but Eddie is entertained by the noises, and he looks up, smiling, “you going to buy it?”

Eddie shakes his head, “not enough left.”

“How much are you short?”

Eddie checks his pocket, and then the little label hanging from the neck, “six dollars?” he hazards.

“Okay, well, I’ve got four left on me, so maybe you can haggle the guy down.”

“I’ll try,” Eddie grins big, taking the change from Steve.

They’ve dropped everything off at the car and, with nothing left to do to kill any more time, they head back to the phone and smush into the booth together.

“He wasn’t there when Hopper got there,” Robin tells them, and Steve sighs, disappointed, “but! El looked into my head real quick, and she says he’s called Doctor Owens. She knew who he was, and she says he’s...nice.”

“Nice,” Steve repeats, deadpan, “a man who facilitated experiments on little kids. Nice.”

“Well...I mean maybe as nice as he could be given the circumstances. I got the impression he never...he wasn’t cruel about it. If you know what I mean.”

“I guess,” Steve hazards, “Eddie?”

Next to him, Eddie’s kind of staring into space, frowning, “Owens. Yes. Remember that word, maybe?”

“Okay. Okay, so what are they doing now Robs?”

“Well, Hoppers keeping an eye out and he’s going to try the Motel right now, but if he’s not there he’s going to start doing drive bys of Starcourt and stuff, and hopefully he turns up,” Steve can hear in her voice that she's shrugging, “but Hopper says since no one else is asking any questions, he’s hopeful that it’s just this guy working alone, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah okay.”

Eddie listens to his new record while Steve makes dinner. He has his guitar over his lap, and occasionally plays a note or two. He understood the mechanics of it already, but Steve figures he must have seen someone with a guitar on TV at some point.

Steve’s absorbed in what he’s doing, and doesn’t notice at first that the twanging noises have stopped. The record ends, but it feels like it’s been a long time of quiet, and Steve looks over to find Eddie, expecting him to be flipping it.

He isn’t.

Steve turns off the stove, covering the two pots he’s been carefully nursing. Eddie isn’t in the cabin; Steve finds him on the dock. He’s just...standing there, in the near dark. Just...staring out across the lake.

“Eddie? You okay?”

Eddie looks around again, “heard something. Had to check it’s safe.”

“You could have said,” Steve comes up close, wrapping a hand around Eddie’s hip. Eddie turns in reflexively, looking for a quick, soft kiss, which Steve is happy to give.

“Think the trees look like The Upside Down.”

“Do you?” Steve looks around; all the trees have leaves on, they’re dense and alive and nothing like the dead twisted things that litter The Upside Down, “I don’t think they do.”

Wind moves through the trees, the susurration of leaves is kind of loud, “sounds like bats. Many many bats,” Eddie shifts closer, pressing himself against Steve.

“You okay?”

“I don’t...I think I don’t like it here.”

“Oh...well,” Steve makes a decision, “since they’re pretty sure it’s just the Owens guy, how about we go home tomorrow? I mean, you might not be able to go to work and stuff until they find him-”

“Yes. Home tomorrow.”

Steve looks around again, tries to see it through Eddie’s eyes. Tries to see what reminds him so much of The Upside Down. Maybe the panic attack in the shower knocked some stuff loose; Steve doesn’t know. Eddie’s been making do with strip washing from the bathroom sink the last couple of nights, and that’s been fine but not ideal. Eddie’s hair needs a wash.

“Okay, we’ll call when we go through town, okay, let them know?”

“Yes...take my book back.”

“You finished it?”

“Almost.”

“Lets go inside, I can finish dinner and you can tell me what it’s about?”

“So they’re...stealing treasure from a dragon?” Eddie nods, his mouth full of dinner. “Okay, fair enough.”

Eddie swallows, “I want to read The Lord of The Rings.”

“Okay, I’m sure we can get it at the library.”

“You promise dragons aren’t real?”

“Yup. Definitely not real, and there’s no hobbits or wizards or- or elves or any of that stuff. And magic isn’t real- well. That kind of magic isn’t real, at least,” Eddie frowns like the book committed a crime.

“But...dinosaurs. Dinosaurs were definitely real, you have those in your book?”

“Yes...dragons can fly though. And breathe fire.”

“Well...some dinosaurs could fly, and they were big like a dragon, some of them.”

“Really?” Eddie’s eyes go wide, “I thought from my book like...cow sized?”

“Hu uh,” Eddie excitement is actually palpable, “definitely a dinosaur book next, some of them were like...as tall as trees,” Steve doesn’t actually know, he was most definitely not a dinosaur kid, but he’s pretty sure at least some of them were tall like that.

“All the time, used to do this. When I had a tail,” Eddie’s voice is muffled where he’s bent over the kitchen sink.

“Yeah...I guess I did,” and it’s true, Steve was washing Eddie’s hair pretty much every other day when Eddie still had a tail. He feels the back of Eddie’s head almost reflexively at the memory, following the ghostly, barely there ridges with his fingers through the suds, “it’s getting so long again already.”

“Good. El said Max makes nice braids when it’s long enough.”

Steve snorts a laugh, “oh yeah? That’s going to look great, now eyes and mouth closed, I’m gonna’ rinse.”

Eddie has his head resting on Steve’s tummy while Steve plays with his hair, hand buried in his curls, massaging his scalp, “what you doing baby?”

“Hear.”

“Hear? Oh what, you’re listening?”

“Listening to Stevie’s inside.”

“Anything interesting?”

Eddie nods, his cheek dragging against Steve’s skin, “funny tummy noises. And bumping.”

“Bumping? Oh, beating, my heart right?”

“Yeah. Stevie, we can definitely go home tomorrow?”

“Sure thing babe, we can get packed up in the morning,” Steve yawns, “you want to go to sleep?”

“Maybe. There’s bad dreams here.”

Steve blinks his eyes open to look down, a weird shiver raising goosebumps on his arms, all the way down to where his hand is still buried in Eddie’s hair. Eddie didn’t have to put that quite so creepily. “I think it’s just...maybe it reminds you of things here, so your mind is kind playing tricks on you a little? There’s nothing bad here baby, I promise. What do you think?”

“The water reminds me of Barb.”

Steve frowns, “Barb? How do you know about Barb?” Under Steve’s hand, something crawls unpleasantly beneath Eddie’s skin.

Eddie shrugs, “Nancy told me you killed her.”

“Stevie!” Steve fights, briefly, confused. “Stevie love, it’s okay. Bad dream.”

Steve’s kind of sweaty and panting, but he quickly realizes that it’s Eddie whose holding him, so he quits moving, “Jesus Christ,” he breathes out slowly, trying to calm himself down, “I’m fine. Thanks. I’ll be okay in a minute.”

“You want to tell me? Here, water.” Steve takes the glass, sipping it carefully. He can feel the cool water go down, grounding him.

Steve has no desire whatsoever to talk about it, so he deflects, “what time is it?”

“Five?” Eddie leans over, checking his watch before putting it back, “half five.”

“I miss you saying five and a half, it was cute.”

“I can say five and a half,” Eddie takes the glass again before snuggling in.

“Did I wake you?”

“No. Already awake...bad dreams.”

“Fucking hell. We need to go home just so we can get a good nights sleep. What did you dream about?”

“You. Lost you, in the trees...we were here but...Upside Down trees? I tried and tried to find you. Could hear you, ‘help help,’ really scared.”

“Maybe it is this place,” Steve settles down again, pulling Eddie close, “weird that we’re both having bad dreams right?”

“I don’t like it.”

“No but...lets just rest a little, and then breakfast and we can get packed up, okay?”

“Okay, Stevie love.”

Eddie waits outside the phone booth, leaning against the car where it sits parked by the curb. Steve calls Family Video today, knowing that Robs should be at work, “hey Bird-”

“He got him! Hopper! He got the Owens guy!”

Steve feels himself relax, one less thing to worry about, “good. Good, we’re coming home.”

“Okay, Hopper does think it was just this guy. He was staying at the Motel, Hop had to wait around a bit, like proper stake out!! But he did get him. Said he couldn’t find any evidence of him like, working with other people, and El’s going to talk to him or something. Make sure. I’m not sure about that bit but-”

“Okay, okay, so where is he?”

“Hopper’s got him at the Motel. Probably like, tied up, do you think? Steve what if he’s like, working for the government though. Or or the Russians-”

Steve rubs his forehead, “Birdie, I know you do love some empty speculation-”

“I do!”

“But how about we wait until we actually like, know?”

“Spoil sport.”

They say goodbye and end the call, Steve offering the keys to Eddie, “want to do a little of the driving?”

Eddie grins big, clearly surprised and pleased by the offer, “yes I do!”

“Okay, careful though, you don’t know the roads like at home. And no getting distracted by the cows.”

Eddie ‘moos’ really loudly in response, once in the drivers seat, he pauses for a second, “should have bought tapes,” he laments.

“Well, unlucky, I’m thinking some Carpenters.”

“Nooooo,” Eddie laughs.

“Shut up, I know you love it. Now sing to me about how the best love songs are written with a broken arm.”

“I think that’s what she said! Broken heart makes no sense,” Eddie grumbles, Steve still laughing.

Eddie had caved after two hours of driving, but still, considering all Eddie had done before today is short journeys around Hawkins, Steve figures he did really well in an unfamiliar place, and he told Eddie so. Eddie has turned into a surprisingly careful driver, Steve doesn’t know if it’s his consideration for Steve’s beloved car, or if it’s Steve’s constant reminders that Eddie cannot afford to draw any attention to himself. Either way, Steve feels safe in the passenger seat.

“Okay, I think I should take you home to unpack, then I can figure out how to call Hop and see if I can go over.”

Steve’s not even surprised by Eddie’s response, “both go, you mean.”

“Eddie...I’m not sure it’s-”

“Stevie,” Eddie manages to make it a complete sentence.

“Look...I’m not going to take your choice away, okay, if you want to come, then that’s fine. But...you get I just want you to be safe, right? And I feel like the less this guy knows, the better?”

“I know...I know,” Eddie has his thinking face on, when he’s wrestling with how to say something. It’s been happening a lot less lately, but this concept must be more complicated. “The people had me in a tank. They...hurt me. I was scared. Now...Owens is in the tank? He has to...he has to say why. To me. And sorry.”

“I...is that what you want? For him to apologize? To...explain?”

“Apologize and explain. Yes. And...I will not hurt him. I’m Eddie. I’m not people.”

Steve shouldn’t be surprised, not really. He feels like he knows Eddie inside and out, but his natural compassion, his...kind of innate goodness still blind sides Steve sometimes. Steve had vaguely considered that a realistic outcome of this may be that he’s helping Hopper hide a body. Maybe. It was kind of an abstract thought he hadn’t wanted to poke too hard but, realistically, they’re talking about a man who experimented on children, on Eddie.

Steve is clearly no where near as forgiving.

Hopper meets them both outside the room. Steve has no idea what to expect, really. The rasp of Hopper stubble is loud when he scrubs at his face, “El thinks this Owens guy is legit. He already knows Eddie has,” Hopper gestures vaguely, “human parts.”

“How?”

“After Starcourt happened, he went back to poke about, and he saw you both. More importantly Eddie, driving a car,” Hopper’s words are full of accusation, like ‘see I knew him driving would be trouble.’

Eddie waves a hand dismissively, “I can go in?”

Hopper sighs, but Steve isn’t going to fight Eddie on this. He knows what he wants, and he’s so fucking smart. Steve’s sure Eddie doesn’t fully appreciate the risks, not since he doesn’t get fully grasp how stuff like actual governments work but...yeah. It’s Eddie’s life, but Steve still takes his hand. If they’re doing it, they’re doing it together.

Hopper just sighs and rolls his eyes.

Steve figured that, somehow, this guy would just...look evil. He doesn’t. He looks like a harmless old dude, sitting on the edge of a sagging motel mattress, looking over some papers. He cannot disguise his interest when Eddie walks in.

He’s not restrained or anything, he’s just...there. There are books and pens and folders and shit spread out on the opposite bed, like he’s been working.

“Owens?” Eddie checks.

“Yes. Yes hello it is...so wonderful to see you again. And to hear you speak! How good is your understanding-”

“I think we have questions, first,” Steve cuts him off sharply. He doesn’t seem threatening, just...genuinely pleased to see Eddie. The guy has to be up to something, Steve can’t shake the suspicious thought that the guy must be one hell of an actor.

“Yes. Of course. I have everything, all of my notes, from Starcourt, so any questions you have I will do my best to answer.”

“Okay, where the fuck do you get off experimenting on people?” Steve’s pretty sure his voice is reasonably calm. He’s vaguely aware of Hopper coming in behind them, pulling up a folding chair he must have gotten from his truck.

Owens closes his eyes briefly, before addressing Eddie,“yes. Of course. I am so so sorry for what you were put through but..the work we were doing. I was not fully aware of just how intelligent you were. Are. I didn’t at first fully comprehend that we were even dealing with a sentient specimen-”

“He’s not a specimen, he’s a person,” Steve snaps.

“I am very smart,” Eddie adds helpfully.

“Yes. Yes you are. And the transformation you have undergone is nothing short of miraculous, if I could take some bloods-”

“Absolutely the fuck not. What were you doing with the Russians?”

“Oh,” Owens seems genuinely confused by the question, like it hadn’t really occurred to him, “when the original labs were closed, the funding ended. Of course we were aware of the mirror dimension-”

Eddie looks at Steve, “he means The Upside Down.”

“-Oh, is that what you call it? Well, it was deemed for too dangerous, and not worth the expense, to continue, not after such a catastrophic failure. The Russians however didn’t seem to have any such issues and were interested in opening a gate; I had to go where I could to continue my work, you understand. And then they brought you back with them. What should I call you?”

“Eddie. I’m Eddie.”

“And you’re working? And you’ve learned to speak and drive a car...your ability to process new information is staggering. The physical changes, did they just happen? What was the-”

“Stop, just stop. What do you want with him? Why have you been asking around?”

“Stevie,” Eddie says quietly, pulling Steve back a little by his shirt. And yeah, okay, Steve may have taken a step forward.

“I just...want to continue my studies. Eddie’s change...the differences in his make up, his body’s ability to rewrite itself – it could lead to...well, significant discoveries. The data I could gather, imagine the effect on modern medicine, what we might achieve – the potential to help people could be immeasurable.”

“We could...help people?” Eddie echoes.

“Yes, well. We could try. Like I said I would have to do some tests to understand-”

“No,” Steve crosses his arms over his chest.

Next to him, Eddie asks quietly, “what tests?”

“Just...take some blood, for now. Just try to understand how this happened and...what the changes mean on a genetic level.”

“Look, Eddie, you do not have to do a single thing for this guy, okay? This could be dangerous, they could come and take you away again-”

“I would most certainly like to avoid just that,” Owens interjects.

“Oh yeah, right. Sell me on that then,” Steve snaps at him.

“Look,” Owens spreads his hands, he hasn’t moved from his seat on the bed, “I’m the only one who knows about this. The little contact I’ve had with my previous...employers implies that they’re done with the site, they’ve scrubbed the remains of Starcourt, it’s already being filled in. I only know you even exist because I just happened to see you. No one knows Eddie is alive right now, that he didn’t die in his tank, except for me. If I tell anyone they will take him, potentially back to Russia, and I’ll loose access to him. If I inform the American team, I’ll have to admit that I was working for the Russians, which would cause some obvious fall out for me. This way I can just…continue with my work.”

Steve rubs his eyes. It sounds...legit. He guesses. Logical. “Hopper?”

“El says he’s on the level.”

“Jesus fuck,” Steve huffs, walking in a circle.

“Stevie? I want to help people.”

“I know you do baby.”

“Oh, are you two in a relationship-”

Steve finds himself leaning over to point in Owens face, “do not.”

“Okay, okay,” Owens spreads his hands, “look, I think you need to see this from the other side too. What if Eddie gets sick? What are you going to do, take him to the doctor? And what about El, and her powers? What if something comes up with her? I’m more than happy to-”

“I’m sure you are,” Steve stops him, “and you agree with that Hop?”

“I mean, he’s got a point. Don’t think we could take Eddie to a regular doctor, and El was fine with letting him look her over. I mean I maybe don’t agree with the shit he’s been involved in but...I don’t currently have a lot of choice with getting my kids brain powers looked at.”

“I don’t like it.”

Hopper shrugs, “nope.”

“This is such a bad plan.”

“Not as bad as-”

“Don’t you dare-” Steve starts.

“Letting some fish guy-”

“Hopper!” Eddie adds, affronted.

“Bite your toes off.”

[jayden-writes]

safe

pairing: Lucifer x gn!Reader

wordcount: ~3k

genre: hurt/comfort, angst, whump

cw: kidnapping, strangulation, threats, violence, murder

summary: Did it truly matter that the hands cradling your face so very gently were bloody?

other notes: no name, Y/N or MC used // AO3 // thanks again to @gravedwe11er for helping me so much with this fic

A piece of fabric pressing over your mouth and nose was all it took to plunge your world into darkness, a pungent smell being the last thing you could process. You’d been on your way back from a short trip, unsuspecting, unaware of who was lurking in the shadows. How much time had passed, you couldn’t possibly tell, but as you finally came to, all you could feel was a dull pain engulfing your entire body. Upon trying to check for any injuries, you realized your wrists were tied, bindings digging tightly into your skin. Slowly, your other senses started to return to you, and you registered that you were sitting, something around your chest keeping you upright.

Forcing your eyelids open, you blinked a few times, attempting to make sense of your surroundings. It was dark, the small, sparse room only dimly lit. If you had to guess, you'd say it was some sort of basement; the floor was unfinished, and the brick wall looked rough. “Mh-” you tried to speak, but all that you managed to get out was a muffled, quiet sound. You’ve been gagged. A heavy weight settled deep in your stomach. The cloth forced between your teeth tasted musty, already damp with your saliva. Looking down with wide eyes, you took in the multiple rows of rope wrapped around your upper body, restricting your breathing, arms bound behind you at an awkward, painful angle that made your shoulders ache. The edge of the metal chair you were sitting on cut into your thighs.

When you wiggled around to free yourself, or at least loosen the restraints, the legs scraped on the crude floor, making your ears hurt. But no matter how hard you fought, it was futile. Holding back tears, you let your head hang, closing your eyes. Deliberately keeping your inhales slow and steady, you tried to think of a solution despite your racing thoughts. Panicking wouldn’t save you, you knew that. Clearly, you would be unable to free yourself without outside assistance. And with your mouth gagged, you weren’t even able to invoke one of your pacts to call them for help. So, what should you do? What could you do?

Before you had any more time to reflect on your circumstances, you heard heavy footsteps above you, drawing your attention. Seconds later, a door was opened, the light momentarily blinding you, then it was cut off again. In the remaining light bleeding through the crack of the door, you saw feet, legs and after that, slowly, the rest of someone unknown to you entered your field of vision - though it was obvious that it was a demon. Her eyes were unnaturally bright, the pale blue piercing through you. A wolfish grin curled around her lips as she stepped closer. You wanted to shrink back, huddle into the furthest corner of the room. But you couldn’t.

“Ah, finally awake, are we? I bet you must have a lot of questions.” Her voice was casual, as if she was simply out for a stroll while she towered over you. “Well, too bad! You see, as much as I’d like to have what would undoubtedly be a very productive conversation with you, I know you’d just call upon one of those so-called Lords that grovel at your feet.”

“Mph…! Mn…!” you tried again, only earning an amused chuckle from her.

“I’m not particularly keen on having one of those brothers that practically fawn over you come to your rescue. Pathetic, really. Demons of their status acting like that around a human. They're supposed to be leaders, to be an example to us lowly demons. Ha, as if! Traitors, all of them, and they should be treated as such.” She gripped your chin roughly, her pointed fingernails scraping along your flesh as you glared at her defiantly despite the ice-cold sensation running through your veins.

“Don’t give me that fucking look, human, show me some respect,” she sneered. For a moment longer, she held your gaze, then her eyes wavered. Faster than you could comprehend, a sharp smack resounded in the small room, and your cheek stung. The force of the slap made your head spin. “You’ll lose that defiant look of yours soon enough and learn to grovel at our feet, just the way it should be. I’ll correct the mistake that fool of a prince made.”

Leaning even closer, she brought her hand down to your throat, closing her grip tightly around it. “I could kill you, just like this,” she whispered harshly into your ear as you struggled against her. Faintness quickly took you over, and your vision became frayed at the edges. Were you going to die like this? “Throw your decaying corpse at the feet of these pathetic weaklings and watch them become consumed by their emotions. And then, I’ll be the king.” You couldn’t die. Not now. Not like this. Not here. Not at her hands.

Finally, she let go of you, and you slumped forward. Blood rushed in your ears and you coughed into the cloth. “Tsk.” She spat on the ground right next to where you were trembling on the chair. “That was more boring than I’d expected. Thought you had more fight in you. But you'll see-”

Her speech was cut off when, suddenly, the door was thrown open, banging against the wall and making both you and your captor flinch. “And what exactly,” drawled a frigid voice as slow steps descended the stairs, “was ‘more boring than expected’? Enlighten me.”

You immediately recognized who it was - of course you did. But the softness that usually laced Lucifer's tone whenever he was talking to you was entirely gone, replaced by a sharpness you’d rarely heard from him. It wasn't directed toward you, you knew that, and yet you couldn't help the shiver running down your spine at the sound of his booming voice. Though he sounded composed, it was clear that he was anything but. The air felt electric, and the dangerous aura he exuded made your hair stand on end. Your heart skipped a beat, only to start pounding faster, a whimper escaping from behind the gag.

Lucifer came to a stop in front of the other demon, who had become virtually frozen in place, all color drained from her face. Gleaming red eyes glanced at you, swiftly assessing your state, before, whatever it was he saw, made his gaze harden even further. “Look away,” he instructed you in an oddly soft tone, and then his focus returned to your abductor, who was now visibly shaking.

“M-my lord,” she stammered, the quiver in her words unmistakable. “Please, you must understand-”

Within the blink of an eye, Lucifer had her pinned against the wall, a pained shriek filling the room. “What must I understand?” he asked, sounding deceptively calm, as his fingers dug into the throat of the other demon. She fought against the grip, trying to loosen the hold. To no avail. Lucifer was unmoving, unbothered by the nails scratching at his gloved hands. Clicking his tongue, he let go, and she collapsed to the ground.

“Please,” she tried, her voice strained as she coughed, attempting to gather herself. A hard kick was delivered to her stomach, causing her to cry out again and curl in on herself. When it was followed by Lucifer stepping on her hand, you knew you should have heeded his order and looked away. As it was, you were unable to avert your gaze as the bones of her fingers cracked beneath the force of his foot. She was pulled up to stand, though most of her weight was being held up by him, pinning her against the wall once more. “I-I'm sorry,” she choked out as he pressed his forearm into her throat.

“Are you truly sorry? Or are you merely trying to save your worthless skin?” Lucifer questioned in a dangerously low voice. He trailed a finger along her cheekbone. “Perhaps,” he mused, “I should rid your body of it. Find a better purpose for it. I believe some bookbinders still use demon skin for books. It would make a terrific present for your family, wouldn't you agree?” He paused, taking in the horror flickering across her face with an impassive expression. “Of course, that would be rather time-consuming. And, quite frankly, I have more important things to tend to than your worthless existence. Let's make this quick then, shall we?”

As if she weighed nothing, he slung her toward the opposite wall, a sickening crack audible as her head made contact with the bricks. She bonelessly fell to the floor, groaning in pain. Before she was able to regain her bearings, Lucifer was kneeling beside her prone body, not caring about the rapidly forming puddle of blood that was dirtying his pants. A dagger glinted in the dimly lit room, and only when blood spurted from her throat, her last, gurgling attempts at breathing filling the air, did you look away, your breaths coming in sharp gasps against the cloth. You felt sick.

With the mangled corpse of the demon lying at the feet of Lucifer, his gaze returned to your quivering form. The intense sheen in his eyes vanished as he took swift steps toward you, appraising your pale appearance. Crouching near you, he partially obscured the gruesome scene behind him. But now, with him finally by your side, he didn't need to. You didn't want to look at it, didn't care about the dead demon, the only thing your sight was drawn to was him. All that mattered was the man before you. The man who could easily kill you just like he killed her, who barely even batted an eye at the wounds he’d inflicted upon that woman. You knew that, rationally, you should be terrified of him, at least as much as you’d been terrified of her. And yet you weren't.

Those same hands that had just killed in cold blood, still stained red, were gently working on undoing the painful restraints keeping you in place. Those same eyes that had shone with ruthless indifference as he had taken a life now looked at you with carefully guarded concern and cautiousness. The crimson streaking his sharp features, dripping off his jaw in beads, complemented the eyes that were looking at you with a contradictory softness perfectly.

Once the cloth was removed from your mouth, all you could muster was a broken sob in the vague shape of his name. With a soft sigh that was probably shakier than Lucifer would have liked to admit, you were gathered into his arms. A hand gingerly pressed against the back of your head, guiding your face into the crook of his neck. The wet blood on his glove was undoubtedly staining your hair, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care; the warmth and safety you found in his embrace was all that mattered.

“Do you have any serious injuries?” he asked quietly, his breath brushing against your ear. Upon feeling you shake your head, he lifted you from the chair, carrying your weight with ease, and you instinctively wrapped your arms over his shoulders. As soon as he'd made it up the stairs, you could hear multiple sets of steps approaching in a hurry alongside several voices, yelling over each other. You recognized all of them, and they rushed around you, a few of them touching you.

Lucifer tightened his hold on you as the sudden onslaught of sensations made you whimper and burrow yourself further into him. “Stop it. This is not helping,” he reprimanded them sharply, and immediately, it grew quiet and the hands withdrew. “I will return home,” he continued. “Do with the body as you wish, though you ought to leave some remains. And don't dawdle too long.”

With that, he went outside, the fresh, cool air replacing the stuffy, metallic tang of the basement. The trip back was short - or was it long? You weren’t sure. It was silent, neither you nor him said anything. The tension in Lucifer was palpable, his posture rigid as he carried you. You mindlessly played with the fabric of his shirt, rubbing it between the tips of your fingers while your head rested on his shoulder.

“I'm okay,” you whispered, although it sounded hollow even to your own ears. He released a heavy sigh and hugged you closer to him.

“You're okay,” he simply echoed.

Next thing you knew, you were back inside. Lucifer's bloody hands were gentle as they worked on divesting your still-trembling form of your clothes, his gaze never lingering anywhere but his own fingers. Not that you would have noticed either way; you were blankly staring ahead, only vaguely aware of his actions. When he had finished, he spoke in a soft voice, as if afraid to startle you, “All done. Are you ready to get in?” Your attention snapped back to the present, to the warm bathroom you were standing in. The tiles beneath your bare feet were a little cold, just now starting to heat up. In the background, water was running, gradually filling the bathtub right next to you.

“Lucifer…?” you mumbled, receiving a squeeze to your hands in response. Looking down, you realized he was gently holding them in his own, ugly bruises and abrasions blooming across your wrists. His gloves were still damp, some of the blood staining your skin.

“Yes. I’m here. Let’s get you cleaned up now,” he responded patiently, directing you toward the tub. Your steps were mechanical as you followed his guidance, entering the warm water and submerging your body in it. Drawing your knees up to your chest, you hugged your legs to yourself, simply gazing at the rippling shapes around you.

“I will leave for a moment to change. Call for me if something is the matter.” For a beat, Lucifer waited for a reply, a reaction, anything from you. When he received none, he sighed wearily. “It will only be for a moment, I will be right back,” he said before stepping out. As you submerged your hands, you watched as the water surrounding you turned a light shade of pink. The pain radiating from your wrists was distant, detached from your being. You observed how you flexed your fingers, then curled them toward your palm, nails digging into the flesh. Had your hands always looked like that? Turning them around, you inspected them, spreading the fingers apart, pressing them together and-

“Does it hurt a lot?” a voice asked and you flinched hard, spinning toward the source. Lucifer was kneeling next to the tub, his brow creased in a frown. “I did not mean to startle you. You seemed very… absorbed in your thoughts. I suppose you didn’t hear me return.” His gloves were gone now, with no traces of the blood that had marred his skin just minutes ago. He had changed into clean, comfortable clothes as well. Upon your prolonged silence, he reached for a nearby cloth, dipping it into the water, then moving it over your body in slow, gentle circles.

“Is this real?” you muttered, the words leaving your mouth before you had even formed the thought.

“Yes, it is real,” he confirmed calmly, though his ministrations faltered briefly. “We are in my bathroom, back in the House of Lamentation. You are safe here.”

“Mhm…” you hummed noncommittally, your gaze drifting down to your submerged hands as you balled them into fists and stretched them out. The water rippled at the repetitive motion and you couldn’t help but stare at the patterns it created. The sensation of the cloth brushing over your skin faded into the background. Only when larger hands stopped your movements, grasping yours gently, did you glance at Lucifer again. You blinked at him blankly. Something in his expression was off, though you couldn’t tell what it was.

“I’m tired,” a voice said and you didn’t have the energy to think about whether it was your own or not.

“Let’s get you into bed then, hm?” he suggested softly, letting the water drain and carefully supporting you as you stood up and stepped out of the tub. A large towel was wrapped around you with which he patted you dry before he helped you into a set of clothes. They vaguely smelled like him. With an arm over your shoulders, he guided you out of the bathroom and back toward his room. Once at the bed, you lay down, sinking into the mattress. For a moment, Lucifer simply remained next to you, regarding you with an unreadable look on his face. Eventually, he knelt beside you and opened the drawer of the nightstand, pulling out a small container. Gingerly, he took one of your arms and scooped out some ointment to apply to the raw skin on your wrist, then he repeated it on the other side as well.

After stowing it away again, Lucifer turned off all the lights besides the candles and climbed into the bed next to you, cautiously gathering you into an embrace. A hand cupped the back of your head, hugging you into his chest as the fingers stroked your scalp. Aside from his even breaths and your slow, shallow ones, it was silent. An invisible weight was tugging on your limbs, the only thing holding you in place, holding you together, were the arms enveloping you.

“Can I let go?” you mumbled, not quite sure yourself what you were trying to ask, but he seemed to understand nonetheless.

“Yes, it’s alright to let go now,” he reassured you, squeezing you a little tighter. “I’m here and I’m not leaving.”

Humming in response, you nestled closer to him, feeling your breaths gradually synchronize with his as you surrendered yourself to the heavy warmth overcoming you. Soon, everything else slowly faded away until you finally drifted off to sleep, safe in Lucifer’s hold.

[jeonsblackgf-writes]

Hellfire’s Sweetheart | Eddie Munson

summary: the hellfire crew doesnt believe eddie has a girlfriend, he’s more than happy to prove them wrong.

warnings: none

word count: 2,758

pairing: Eddie Munson x black!reader

———————————————————————

Eddie Munson was used to being underestimated. It was practically his life’s anthem. He’d stroll into Hawkins High with his ripped jeans, devil-may-care attitude, and unapologetic love for all things metal, drawing sneers and whispers from teachers and students alike. But there was one thing—no, one person—that would forever remain his greatest triumph: you.

You, the radiant valedictorian of Hawkins High. You, with your perfectly coiled hair and easy, confident smile that left everyone either intimidated or in awe. You, who exuded grace and brilliance in ways that seemed untouchable. And yet, despite all odds, you were his.

And nobody knew.

It wasn’t that Eddie wanted to keep you a secret—not really. But it was easier this way. People would laugh. People would assume it was some elaborate joke. People—most notably his Hellfire Club crew—would never, ever let him hear the end of it.

So, for months, Eddie kept you tucked away in the sacred corners of his world, sharing clandestine dates at the diner, playing mixtapes for you in the van, and sneaking kisses in the woods where no one could see. It was bliss. It was magic. And it drove him insane to hear his friends tease him about his “imaginary girlfriend” every time he so much as mentioned you.

“I’m telling you,” Eddie groaned, throwing his head back in exasperation during a Hellfire Club meeting, “she’s real.”

“Sure she is,” Dustin snorted, stacking his dice in a neat pyramid. “And I’m dating Princess Leia.”

The room erupted in laughter.

Eddie glared at the group, his ringed fingers drumming against the dungeon master’s screen. “You little heathens wouldn’t know real love if it hit you upside the head.”

“I mean, c’mon, Eddie,” Mike chimed in, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve been talking about her for months. If she’s so great, why haven’t we met her?”

“Yeah,” Lucas added with a smirk. “We’d love to meet this mystery girl of yours. Unless, of course…” He paused, his grin widening. “You’re just embarrassed because she’s imaginary.”

“She’s not imaginary!” Eddie bellowed, his voice bouncing off the drama room walls. He shoved a hand through his curls and muttered under his breath, “You guys are impossible.”

“You’re impossible,” Gareth teased, earning a high-five from Dustin.

Eddie bit back a retort. He’d had this conversation more times than he could count, and it always ended the same way—with him retreating in frustration while his friends continued their playful torment. But this time? This time, he had a plan.

The following Friday, Eddie’s nerves were shot. His leg bounced uncontrollably under the table as the Hellfire Club set up for their latest campaign. The guys noticed, of course.

“Dude, you good?” Dustin asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“I’m fine,” Eddie snapped, a little too quickly. “Just… focused.”

“On what? World domination?” Gareth quipped.

Eddie ignored him, glancing at the clock on the wall. You were supposed to arrive any minute now. He’d told you to meet him outside the drama room, and the thought of your arrival had his heart doing somersaults.

The door creaked open, and every head in the room turned.

You stepped inside, radiant as ever, wearing your favorite oversized sweater, a pair of perfectly cuffed oversized jeans, and a fresh paid of timbs you just paid for with your check. Your hair framed your face like a halo, and the faintest trace of gloss sparkled on your lips.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then Dustin broke it.

“Who… is that?”

Eddie grinned, leaning back in his chair like the cat that caught the canary. “Gentlemen,” he said, gesturing toward you with a dramatic flourish, “meet my girlfriend.”

Your smile was warm as you waved. “Hi. I’m Y/N.”

The room erupted into chaos.

“No freaking way!” Mike shouted, his jaw practically hitting the floor.

Lucas blinked at you like you were some kind of mirage. “Wait—you’re Eddie’s girlfriend?!”

“Eddie Munson’s girlfriend?” Dustin repeated, his voice climbing several octaves. He turned to Eddie, his expression a mixture of disbelief and awe. “How did you pull this off?!”

“Hey, now,” Eddie said, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re Eddie freaking Munson!” Gareth exclaimed. “And she’s… she’s…”

“Way out of your league,” Dustin finished bluntly.

You laughed, the sound warm and genuine, and crossed the room to sit beside Eddie. He draped an arm around your shoulders, his grin as smug as ever.

“Believe it or not,” you said, shooting Eddie a playful look, “I happen to like this weirdo.”

“I told you guys,” Eddie said, leaning back with an exaggerated sigh of relief. “But noooo, you didn’t believe me.”

The drama room had never felt this tense. Normally, the Hellfire Club descended into immediate chaos, their boisterous voices and dice-rolling creating an atmosphere that felt alive. But tonight, it was different.

All eyes were on you, Eddie’s girlfriend, who was now seated comfortably beside him, a serene smile on your face as you took in the boys’ shocked expressions.

Eddie had an arm draped around your shoulders, his usual bravado turned up to eleven. His smirk screamed “I told you so,” but you could see the faint blush creeping up his neck. He was proud—no, ecstatic—to have you there, and it warmed your heart.

“So…” Dustin finally broke the silence, leaning forward across the table. “How—how did this happen?”

You tilted your head with a soft laugh. “How did what happen?”

“This!” Dustin gestured wildly between you and Eddie. “You’re… you! And he’s… him! No offense, Eddie.”

“Offense absolutely taken,” Eddie grumbled, narrowing his eyes at Dustin.

“I think what Dustin means,” Mike interjected carefully, “is that you’re, like… really smart and pretty and, you know… you. And Eddie’s… Eddie.”

Lucas nodded fervently. “Exactly. You’re Hawkins High royalty. He’s… well…” He trailed off, glancing at Eddie’s Iron Maiden shirt and fingerless gloves. “You get the idea.”

You exchanged a glance with Eddie, who raised an eyebrow as if daring you to answer.

“Well,” you began, leaning forward with an amused smile, “if you must know, Eddie won me over with his charm, wit, and complete lack of shame.”

“Damn right I did,” Eddie quipped, squeezing your shoulder.

“It’s true,” you continued. “He asked me out three times before I said yes. The first time was in the middle of history class—he slid me a note with a doodle of himself playing guitar and the words ‘Go out with me?’ written in giant letters.”

Mike blinked. “And you said no?”

“I thought it was a joke!” you admitted, laughing. “But then he kept trying. The second time, he serenaded me in the hallway with an original song.”

“It was a ballad,” Eddie clarified, his tone mock-serious. “A masterpiece, really.”

“And the third time,” you finished, “he showed up outside my house with a mixtape and a bouquet of daisies he picked from someone’s yard.”

“Old Mrs. Cunningham’s yard, to be specific,” Eddie added.

“By then, I figured he was either crazy or serious—or both.” You glanced at Eddie, your eyes softening. “Turns out, he’s a little bit of both. And I like that about him.”

The boys stared at you, utterly speechless.

“She’s way too good for you,” Gareth finally muttered, breaking the silence.

Eddie smirked. “Yeah, well, she’s mine anyway.”

As the session began, you settled in beside Eddie, watching him transform into the Dungeon Master with an enthusiasm that was both endearing and infectious. He narrated with dramatic flair, his hands gesturing wildly as he painted vivid scenes of danger and intrigue.

You leaned in, whispering, “He’s really into this, huh?”

“Always,” Dustin whispered back, his eyes glued to Eddie. “It’s like his second language.”

Eddie caught the exchange and narrowed his eyes. “Hey, no side commentary from the peanut gallery. This is serious business.”

You laughed, resting your chin on your hand as you watched him. “Sorry, Dungeon Master. Please, carry on.”

He shot you a mock-glare before continuing, guiding the boys through a harrowing encounter with a group of marauding orcs. As the dice rolled and the boys strategized, their initial awe at your presence slowly gave way to curiosity.

“So,” Lucas asked during a lull in the action, “how do you put up with him?”

“Put up with him?” You raised an eyebrow.

“You know, the dramatics, the weirdness, the constant ‘I’m a misunderstood genius’ vibe.”

Eddie gasped, clutching his chest. “Lucas Sinclair, you wound me!”

“Don’t listen to him,” you said, smiling. “I think it’s sweet. Eddie’s passionate, and he’s not afraid to be himself. That’s rare.”

Eddie shot the group a smug grin. “Hear that? She thinks I’m rare. Like a collector’s item.”

“More like a one-of-a-kind weirdo,” Dustin muttered, earning a laugh from the group.

At one point during the game, Eddie reached under the table and took your hand, his fingers lacing with yours. It was a small gesture, but it sent warmth flooding through you.

“You okay?” he whispered, leaning close.

“More than okay,” you whispered back. “This is fun.”

“Good,” he said, his eyes soft. “Because I’m pretty sure you’ve just earned legendary status in their eyes.”

You glanced at the boys, who were busy arguing about the best way to approach the next encounter. “They’re sweet,” you said. “A little intense, but sweet.”

“They grow on you,” Eddie said with a grin.

“I can see that.”

By the end of the session, the boys were visibly more comfortable around you, their initial awe replaced with a sense of camaraderie. They peppered you with questions about your classes, your favorite bands, and how on earth Eddie convinced you to date him.

As the group packed up, Dustin pulled Eddie aside.

“Dude,” he said, his voice low. “She’s amazing.”

“I know,” Eddie said, grinning.

“No, like, amazing,” Dustin repeated. “You’d better not screw this up.”

Eddie chuckled, clapping Dustin on the shoulder. “Relax, Henderson. I’ve got this.”

Across the room, you were chatting with Lucas and Mike, who were eagerly showing you their character sheets. Eddie watched the scene unfold, his heart swelling with pride. You fit in perfectly, like you’d always been part of the group.

As you caught Eddie’s gaze, you smiled and mouthed, “I love you.”

Eddie’s grin widened. He mouthed back, “I love you more.”

And in that moment, surrounded by his friends and the girl who had completely stolen his heart, Eddie Munson felt like the luckiest man alive.

The Hellfire Club session transitioned into a scene of pure chaos as the boys dove into a heated debate about their next move in the campaign. Eddie had unleashed a particularly devious trap—a dungeon filled with shifting walls and riddles—and while the group bickered about how to proceed, you found yourself completely enthralled by the dynamic.

“Okay, but if we trigger the trap,” Dustin argued, pointing emphatically at his map, “we’re dead! It’s a bad idea!”

“And if we don’t?” Mike shot back. “Then we’re just standing here waiting for something to kill us anyway!”

Lucas groaned, throwing his hands up. “Why do you always pick the most dangerous options, Mike?”

“It’s not dangerous; it’s bold! There’s a difference.”

As they continued to argue, you leaned toward Eddie, your voice low. “Do they always get this… intense?”

Eddie chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, sweetheart, this is nothing. You should see them when someone loses all their hit points. Last week, Dustin almost cried because a gelatinous cube ate his enchanted dagger.”

Dustin’s head whipped around, clearly having heard. “It wasn’t just a dagger! It was my soulblade! And Gareth laughed at me!”

“Because it was funny!” Gareth shot back, smirking.

Eddie laughed, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin. “See? Total chaos.”

You smiled, loving every second of it. Their passion reminded you of why you adored Eddie in the first place. He wasn’t afraid to throw himself into the things he loved, and it was clear his friends were the same.

“Alright, alright,” Eddie finally called, raising his hands to silence the room. “Enough squabbling, my dear nerds. Your time is ticking. Decide your fate or perish in the dungeon!”

Dustin sighed dramatically, leaning toward you. “You see what we have to deal with? He’s a tyrant.”

“And yet you keep coming back,” you teased.

“Because we’re dedicated to the craft,” Dustin replied with mock seriousness.

“Because you’re gluttons for punishment,” Eddie corrected, smirking.

As the game carried on, the boys became more comfortable interacting with you, even inviting you to roll dice for certain decisions. When Eddie handed you a 20-sided die and asked you to roll for an attack, Dustin immediately objected.

“Wait, wait, wait!” he exclaimed, holding up his hands. “She’s not a member of Hellfire! She can’t just roll!”

“Excuse me?” Eddie said, feigning offense. “She’s my guest. She has honorary dice privileges.”

Lucas chimed in, grinning. “Only if she rolls well. If she messes this up, it’s on you, Eddie.”

You took the die from Eddie, holding it delicately between your fingers. “No pressure, huh?”

Eddie leaned in, his voice soft and teasing. “Don’t worry, babe. I have full faith in you.”

With everyone watching, you rolled the die, and it tumbled across the table in dramatic fashion before landing on a perfect 20.

The room exploded.

“No freaking way!” Dustin shouted, practically falling out of his chair.

“She’s got beginner’s luck!” Mike declared, throwing his hands in the air.

Eddie grinned, looking at you like you’d just won the lottery. “That’s my girl!”

You laughed, feeling a little embarrassed but proud nonetheless. Eddie wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as the boys continued to marvel at your roll.

“Looks like I’ve got a natural,” he teased, his eyes sparkling.

“Maybe I should join the club,” you said with a sly smile.

Dustin immediately panicked. “Wait, wait, wait—no offense, but we can’t just let anyone join! There’s a whole initiation process and—”

Eddie cut him off with a laugh. “Relax, Henderson. She’s not taking your spot. Yet.”

By the end of the night, the campaign wrapped up with the group narrowly escaping the dungeon thanks to your lucky roll. As the boys packed up their books and dice, they couldn’t stop talking about you.

“Okay, so, I’ll admit,” Gareth said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “She’s cool. Way cooler than you, Munson.”

“Obviously,” Eddie replied, grinning as he helped you gather your things.

Dustin, still looking slightly awestruck, turned to you. “You’re, like… actually amazing. I don’t know how Eddie tricked you into dating him, but, uh… good job, I guess?”

You smiled. “Thanks, Dustin. But for the record, Eddie didn’t trick me. He’s a good guy.”

“Yeah, but, like…” Dustin looked between you and Eddie, gesturing vaguely. “He’s Eddie.”

“And I’m me,” you said, slipping your arm through Eddie’s. “We’re a good match, don’t you think?”

The boys exchanged skeptical looks, but none of them argued.

As you and Eddie headed out, walking hand-in-hand toward his van, he stopped suddenly and turned to face you.

“You know,” he said, his voice soft, “I think you broke their brains tonight.”

You laughed, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Maybe a little. But they’re great. I see why you love them.”

“They’re my weird little family,” he admitted.

“And now I’m part of it,” you said with a smile.

“Yeah,” Eddie murmured, his eyes locking with yours. “You are.”

He pulled you into a hug, holding you close as the cool night air swirled around you. For all his theatrics, Eddie had a quiet side—a side that adored you in ways he couldn’t always put into words.

“I love you, you know,” he said softly, his voice muffled against your hair.

“I know,” you replied, smiling against his chest. “I love you too, Eddie Munson. Even if you are a little crazy.”

“Crazy about you,” he quipped, pulling back to wink at you.

You rolled your eyes, laughing as he opened the van door for you. As you climbed in, you couldn’t help but think about how far Eddie had come—from the school’s misunderstood freak to the boy who had your heart and a group of friends who adored him.

As he slid into the driver’s seat and cranked up the stereo, Metallica blasting through the speakers, you leaned back and smiled. Life with Eddie was unpredictable, chaotic, and wildly unconventional.

[mjtheartist04]

✿𝓡𝓲𝓴𝓪 𝓗𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓽𝓪✿

༻❀𝓘𝓷𝓯𝓸 𝓑𝓮𝓵𝓸𝔀 𝓒𝓾𝓽❀༺

Name: Rika Hinata.

Age: 16.

Gender: Female - She/Her.

Race: Asian + Hispanic.

Height: 5’7” (171 cm).

Affiliation: Demon Slayer/ Demon Slayer Corps.

Rank: Hinoe.

Breathing Style: Sapphire Blaze - Derived From Flame Breathing. (Blues flames with a hint of purple)

Personality: ISFJ, Caring, hardworking, independent, perceptive, Understanding, protective. Rika is a kind girl by heart, who looks for peace within herself and wishes to be strong enough to protect others and is always there looking out for them, worrying about their well beings. She greatly admires and looks up to the hashiras and her close comrades, very respectful towards them. However, Despite her kindhearted nature, she is a tough girl and she likes to keep most things to herself, putting up walls whenever she’s feeling down or upset, very private about her personal life and her trauma and how it impacted her. can be a bit intimidating when angry, just as long as you don’t say anything bad to those she is close with, she is quick to defend them, she won’t be afraid to put you into your place. she can be quite protective, and can sometimes be a bit patronising at times.

⋆⁺‧₊☽𝓑𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂☾₊‧⁺⋆

At the age of ten years old, rika had been taken under the care of sakonji urokodaki, after being discovered in the woods by giyuu tomioka. Bleeding and Unconscious.

Rikas childhood was shattered when a demon invaded and attacked her home, where her parents were both killed, fighting for their lives and in a desperate attempt to protect their daughter. The demon had tried to get to her, but with her quick speed, she out ran him and ran out into the dark woods, fleeing into the late night, driven by both determination and terror until dawn. Having her to pass out due to exhaustion.

After being saved, it was from there she discovered about the demon slayer corps. Right then and there, she wanted to be trained and to become a demon slayer. A goal to become strong enough to shield others from harm, to bring peace to those she protects…So, She trained for two years under urokodakis guidance. within those two years, she looked up to both mister urokodaki and giyuu, forming a close bond with the two…

At the age of 13, she participated the final selection, driven by her promise to herself and officially became a demon slayer. Standing tall and ready to face whatever lies ahead with her heart set on protecting others against the horrors that once shattered her peace. She can't let the same thing happen again and she’ll push herself intensely To ensure that no one else suffers the same fate and experience the pain she felt.

˚ʚ♡𝓕𝓾𝓷 𝓕𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓼!♡ɞ˚

-She was trained on using water breathing and that was originally gonna be her combat style. but when she met Rengoku and saw him practicing flame breathing, it piqued her interest, and asked him if he could train her, and he agreed. quickly the two formed a strong sibling bond overtime. During those training times, is when she creates Sapphire Blaze Breathing, to suit her more and her combat skills.

- Rika is a fast runner and a bit flexible.

- She’s actually a very good cook! Happily helps aoi at the butterfly estate with cooking meals.

- She has cold hands and her body temperature is mostly on the slightly cooler side.

- Tends to get bashful when praised or complimented.

- Melonpan is her favorite food + anything spicy!

- She smells like lavender and freesias, with a hint of sweetness.

- On her free time she likes to Draw/Paint!

- She LOVES tulips.

Dividers by: @/cafekitsune

[khaire-traveler]

Hello there! I'm very new to hellenic polytheism and came across a question that I am not sure how to approach. I would be really grateful if you could let me know your thoughts on this (please don't feel obligated or anything, tho. I know I am just a random person asking a random question 🫣). So, for a while now, I've been getting more into greek mythology and from there into fandoms that depict the deities (e.g. Epic the musical which I love a lot). Would you say it is inappropriate to seek out fanfiction or fanart (especially those including ships) in those fandoms, or should I refrain from doing that as it would be disrespectful? Or are there limits I should be aware of? Thank you so much should you choose to answer this 💜 (I apologise for missing paragraphs. I am not sure how to do those on mobile.) (Also, is there a right way to end these kinds of letters/messages/questions? Like a way to express my gratefulness?) (Sorry if none of this makes sense. I always get anxious messaging strangers, but I couldn't find answers anywhere, so I thought I'd just ask🫣)

Khaire, Melie!

Ah, yes. The age-old question. How sinful is fanfiction, exactly? /joke (wanted to start this off light-hearted)

In all seriousness, I'll start with this: If you want to know how the gods feel about it, ask them. There is no better answer than the one that comes directly from the source. I understand the nerves around asking this question; some Hellenic Polytheists feel VERY strongly about it, and honestly, seeing their strong opinions has made me doubt my own interests in such media. Remember that some rando's opinion online, however, isn't the law, regardless of how strongly they feel about it or how desperately they want you to do exactly what they're doing. Opinions are opinions; facts are facts - they are separate things. Personally - and this is MY opinion -I think never engaging with modern media depicting the gods is a little too strict of an approach, and by following that, I feel that a lot of people are banning themselves from engaging with fictional media that they might enjoy. Each piece of modern media about the gods is a creative interpretation of Greek mythology, and people have been doing this kind of thing with other religions - that they don't believe in - for AGES. It's entirely normal, even if it is kind of annoying sometimes. Now, some retellings, games, shows, etc. genuinely take things too far, in my opinion, and warp the mythology so completely that it might as well be a different story entirely. I'm bordering on a tangent, so I'll move on.

Modern media about the gods isn't an inherently abhorrent, evil thing that should always be avoided, however, but personally, I do draw the line of engagement at shipping.

First and foremost, live your life the way you want to. Engage with your practice however you wish. I'm not the law-maker of this religion - no one is - and while I might disagree with someone's approach, I'm not going to shit all over them for doing things differently from myself. Now, into my opinion. I don't think shipping gods - be it from a modern form of media or not - that you worship is appropriate, personally. In my experience, it will blur your actual perception of those gods. I've seen it happen over and over again that people confuse the fictional representation of their God in media with the actual god, then feel the need to distance themselves from the media in order to regain something they feel that they lost. Like I said, you do whatever you wish, but I find it's just better to avoid the awkwardness of shipping entirely.

If you want to read fanfiction about the gods in fictional media, go for it, but I'm not personally a big fan of that. I don't know how the gods feel about it; I can't speak for them (no one can). For all I know, they could be reading the fanfiction themselves and laughing their asses off, who knows? But as a worshipper, I'm not personally comfortable with the idea of reading it. Again, do what you want with your life. If you want to read some spicy fanfic of one god with another, I'm literally not going to stop you, but make sure you're able to separate the fictional characters from the gods you actually worship before you do so - that's my advice. Too often, people end up conflating the two. When a fandom or fanfiction begins affecting your worship, practice, or even just the way you view the gods, that's when it's a problem.

I think the community has been torn on the topic of modern media for a while. Some people love it, while others utterly despise it, and you'll notice that answers will vary from person to person. In my opinion, these pieces of media become problematic when they swarm the fuck out of a small religious community that already struggles to be taken seriously. An example of this is what happened with Lore Olympus a while back. When the comic got popular, a ton of people would swarm and attack worshippers of Apollo online, calling them all sorts of extremely vile things, all because of a comic that literally wasn't even mythologically accurate. In my opinion, fandoms can get out of control sometimes, and when you're engaging with one based around the gods, I advise you to just be careful and aware. For some people, fanart and fanfiction of the gods are extremely uncomfortable, similarly to if someone were to ship Buddha with Jesus in the regard that it just...feels weird for people who actually worship those figures. Other people could care less, being able to fully separate the fictional characters from the gods they worship. Base it on your comfort, and the comfort of your gods.

I hope this helped to give you my perspective. I'm not going to tell you what is or isn't the right choice because honestly, different people will give you a different answer, and I'm anything but a religious authority. You're allowed to do as you wish, but I will always advise you to tread with caution and check in with yourself about how it feels for you personally. Reach out to your gods and directly ask them (such as through tarot, or another form of divination), "Hey, how do you feel about me engaging with this?" Asking directly is ALWAYS a good idea, in my experience. Take care, Melie. 🧡

[wisecura]

Next.

Wc: 6k

p.2 to this p.1

AN: thank you again for reading—proofread warning.

Warning: dub-con, jealousy, manipulative behavior, controlling behavior, smut (MINORS DNI), degradation, demeaning, rude gojo-like bad boy, bad, just not healthy my dude. Read with caution

Again.

Satoru, of course, had heard everything. The menace he was—he’d wound you up hoping to draw a confession from you. But like always he managed to get carried away. He couldn’t say he was upset with the outcome. He’d been able to see you so deliciously vulnerable right before his eyes. The way you squirmed beneath him, your beautiful doe eyes practically begging him to fuck you. And the second he’d heard your footsteps prattle away, a moan coming from your room, he knew it was all worth it.

His feet carried him straight to your door, long forgetting the food. He quietly approached, leaning in closely to listen. Your moans mixed with the wet squelches made him stutter out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His dick painfully hard in the confines of his pants. The image of you shuddering beneath him still burned into his mind. He’d pushed you, yes. But it was worth it to see the jealous look smearing your pretty features.

And now, his prize and punishment. Just out of reach. The sound of your vibrator, your whimpers and moans, and finally the sound of your climax. You filled the entire apartment with your sinful sounds.

His head rests against the door, his palms flexing. He put himself in this position, yet he wasn’t mad about it. His ear tinted red as he tried to imagine what your face looked like when you came. He’d thought long and hard, leaning against your door like that.

Satoru left the house soon after that. And when he’d arrived home, the lights were out in the apartment. He saw you had eaten the curry he left out for you, as he listened in for any sign of life. You were likely asleep. He brought the bag back to his room, locking the door before digging in. He’d bought several things that night, and was itching to put them to good use. Ordered some more to come in the next day.

You on the other hand were suffering from post nut clarity. What had you done? What had he done?

Would he pretend this never happened? He left the house before you could work up the courage to go talk to him about it. He’d been the one to push you, though. Would you even be able to face him. Explain to him the actions of your stupid horny brain. You had wondered if he really hadn’t heard you. Would you just be embarrassing yourself by bringing it up? And what about your conversation at the island table?

When you left for work the next day, you hadn’t seen him at all. Usually he’d be in the kitchen making breakfast for the two of you. You’d typically eat together, laugh about the movie you’d watched the night before, then say your goodbyes for the day.

But his bedroom door was shut. So you left. The change in routine was more noticeable than you thought. You didn’t realize how accustomed you were to having Satoru’s presence around you, that it just threw your whole day off.

When you got home that evening you immediately noticed something was off. You spotted more artwork on the walls. More furniture in the previously bare environment. It felt warmer than before, as you placed your bag by the door. More like home.

You heard rustling in the kitchen, making your way to the source of both the noise and the delicious smell. And there he was. In all his handsome glory. Who made him that attractive? You think spitefully.

“Oh! You’re home?” The word home hung a little more heavier than it did before. “Yeah, I just got back.”

He nods, as you take your seat in the island chair. Your mind flashes back to your position there yesterday night before he speaks up.

“How was your day?” The conversation remained light. You talked about each of your days, excluding the awkwardness of the morning.

“What’s with all the new decor? It’s nice don’t get me wrong, but…”

“Ah I wanted to liven the place up a bit…you can add whatever you want. It’s your place too, y’know?”

The words hang there. Should you address it? How would that conversation even go?

“Should we…should we talk about yesterday?” He remained playful and easygoing, “what’s there to talk about?” Was he being serious? He was just going to ignore it? Your confusion must’ve shown on your face—

“I think I was pretty upfront. You aren’t leaving. This is your home as much as mine.” That was only the tip of the iceberg, and you didn’t know how to approach the topic that would change the entire basis of your relationship.

“What are you expecting from me? Some kind of friends with benefits?” Your voice attempting nonchalance yet failing to hid the bitterness. He just didn’t seem the type for relationships. But a situationship did seem right up his alley. His smile tightened as he addressed you coldly, head tilting.

“I don’t care what label you put on it. Long as you aren’t seeing other people. Long as you stay here.” You decide to drop it there, not liking how cold his eyes had gotten. Eating in strained peace.

You shower off before heading to bed, but not before running into him in the hallway. His eyes shamelessly skimmed your body, which thankfully was still wrapped in a towel. You nodded at him before scurrying to your room and closing the door quickly. His gaze still made you so flustered.

You moved to grab your clothes before noting the framed landscape painting on the wall in front of your bed. It was somewhat awkward knowing that he’d been in your room while you were away, but it is his apartment, right?

You dress in your pajamas before tucking yourself in bed. The room was dark as you snuggled in the overly soft comforter.

That was before you heard him.

A low groan, followed by another. You sat bolt upright in bed. His room was on the other side of the wall, so you didn’t need to strain much to hear it. Continuous strings of moans, groans, and pants. You weren’t sure you were hearing right. You wait a few moments, unbelieving. Was he really doing this? Your face flushed red as you lay back in bed. You reach down between your legs feeling the dampness over your clean panties. Damn.

All it took was his voice. You touch your clothed pussy, feeling the damp spot grow. His groans and panting heavier as he begins moaning out your name.

You to freeze up, heart hammering. He was playing so dirty.

Too warm. You pulled the covers back, pulling down your shorts and underwear. The cold air hits your slick pussy and you rub meticulously. Your other hand stifles your moans before they can come out.

Satoru was playing dirty and he knew it. The second he was in bed, his mind never left how you looked walking around in that small towel. The water droplets clinging to your hair, and the smooth expanse of your creamy skin on display.

You were a fucking minx walking around like that. Pulling that stunt yesterday. All he had to do was imagine you, and the rest was history.

He was sure his moaning carried through the walls. He wanted to give you a little something for the day before. A few minutes go by before he pulls out his phone, clicking his new home security app. He’d placed cameras around the house. Expensive ones. Ones you wouldn’t see, hiding behind the decorative paintings he’d placed everywhere. Including your room.

You were lying there on your bed, your finger on that perfect gushing pussy. The camera quality, crystal clear. He couldn’t stop the groan from his mouth, calling out your name softly again. The satisfaction rolled in waves at the movement of your hips, no doubt in response to his voice.

This had been the best investment he’d ever made.

Tensions had been high around the apartment. Much to your displeasure. Satoru was still very friendly with you, spending much of his free time around you. Still very touchy, yet never crossing that line of too much.

He still never addressed your silent war of loudly masturbating in your rooms— a war which you both seemed to continue after that first day. And it was not something you were going to comment on first, especially if he was being stubborn. You’d spent more time out of the house, feeling that tension stifle you. But you’d wanted more from it. Wanted more from your relationship and he didn’t seem like he wanted to talk about it.

He would complain when you stayed out for long periods of time, but it was better than addressing the shift in your dynamic. And you could only stand to see his face so often when you frequently heard him climaxing in the next room over. Your name a constant on his tongue.

You’d met up with your childhood friend from home. You’d known him for years, having grown up together.

Satoru had met him too—funnily enough. He’d been the catalyst for Satoru’s possessive best friend hugging era. That friend.

He’d came into town, and messaged about a meet up. He’d only be there for a day or two. On the way out of the apartment that morning, you let Satoru know you wouldn’t be back for dinner, not wanting him to set the plate. He looked bored when he’d ask where you were going. Even when you told him who you were meeting up with. And he said nothing when you left the house to go to dinner that day.

All of this to say, you now found yourself very shocked. That conversation had only been a few hours ago, though it felt longer. Here you were sat across from your childhood friend.

And to your right was Satoru Gojo.

In the flesh. The look on your friend’s face was nothing short of awkward. He hadn’t expected you to be bringing a plus one. And judging by the look on your face, you hadn’t expected Satoru there either.

Maybe this would’ve been more comfortable had it not been for how Satoru was acting.

Satoru sat back in his chair, legs sprawled out beneath him, and was possibly the only comfortable looking person at the table. His smile broad, eyes easy going. The only tell for his own irritation was the tension in his shoulders.

“Sooo, who’re you again?” His underlying tone, condescending, boarding on mean, but still managed to keep his playful persona.

“Satoru—“ “Ah my name’s—“ You shoot your friend a look for him to shut up, giving him a light kick under the table. “Satoru, you know his name. Stop teasing.”

You give him a pointed look, still unsure why he was even there in the first place. With the way he was acting you had no doubt he’d wanted to make it awkward. You’d found out he was just quirky that way.

“Why’re you even here? This wasn’t supposed to be a group thing-“ He hummed out your name in a singsong voice, his arm swiftly clapping around on your friend’s shoulder, yanking him closer. “He doesn’t seem to mind, mm? What’s your problem with it?”

He pouted out his lips, feigning innocence. His tone doing nothing but stoking the small flame of annoyance in your chest. His puppy eyes were on display, seeming to plead his case with you, but you wouldn’t give in this time. You wouldn’t have minded him joining in, but it was the fact that he just showed up with no word. It was painfully rude. Especially when he seemed less than interested that morning. Your eyes flit to your friends, pitying his position, “Sorry for him-“

“Sorry for what!” Satoru’s loud voice rang out, “I’m a delight!” His voice indignant. You huff out, before hearing the waiter approach the table. She eyed your situation, before flushing at Gojo. Ugh.

“What can I get started for you~?” Her pitch was a bit grating to your ears. Maybe you were being too critical? But the way she eyed up Satoru solidified your critique. Absolutely grating.

Satoru smiled at the soured look painted across your face. It only got worse when the waitress came over, practically tripping over him. It did nothing to help his ego, and he pat your friend on the back, a little more forcefully than he intended before letting go. He was irritated that you were here. That you’d chosen a little date with this waste of space sitting next to him.

His grin was wide, as he made sure to eye you down—gauging your every reaction. But your eyes were on the waitress. Not him. And that annoyed him even more than he cared to admit.

“Mmm” he hummed out, turning his charm up. He hadn’t meant for it to sound so…He leaned over the table, resting his head on one hand, making eye contact with the waitress,

“What’s your sweetest dish?” The question was innocent enough. His tone light—somewhat suggestive, he knew you wouldn’t like it. The waitress flushed, and she looked away, giggling. The sound was a bit annoying, he’d admit.

He didn’t like playing this game, but he couldn’t control his actions when it came to you. His eyes flit back to you-just marginally, hoping he’d find you looking over at him. But you wouldn’t turn your fuckin’ head.

He reminded himself that it was fine. This seemed like the perfect opportunity to remind you who really mattered here.

His competition was sat to his right, his grin uneasy and uncomfortable. Satoru could tell he was a fish out of water, and it satisfied him to no end knowing that he knew. He knew he could never size up to the Satoru Gojo.

If you didn’t see it, he’d just have to show you. Show you that he was the more desirable option. The better pick.

If others showed some interest in him then maybe you’d see it? He contemplated flirting some more, giving you a taste of your own medicine. He eyed the waitress shamelessly, hoping you saw him. Only for a moment.

But his thoughts were racing, and he felt somewhat desperate and out of control. You still refused to look at him, and it really was starting to drive him crazy. If only you hadn’t come out to see this fuckin shrimp.

He wouldn’t wait around for you. He didn’t need you.

But that was a lie. And he knew it. He was just jealous. And he didn’t know how to convey it.

But he knew how to get your attention.

Instigating obvious sexual tension for weeks. Act nonchalant when you spoke about your childhood friend—randomly, your supposed dinner plans with him. Pretend to ignore you as you left the house dressed up that sleek form fitting black dress.

✨Show up when you least expected it.✨ Make your friend uncomfortable, putting you in an awkward position. Flirt with the waitress right in front of you when he felt like you hated him. When he felt like you preferred someone else’s company. And now?

What else could he do to garner your attention? He could make good on his comment from before, bringing her home and fucking her right next to your bedroom door.

But the thought disgusted him. He couldn’t even picture it. And when it reached his mind, he pulled back from the flirting immediately. You glared at him now, your arms crossing over yourself in a self soothing gesture. He couldn't understand how you were able to come out like this. Not when he revolted at the idea of even touching another woman. How could you so casually sit across from another man and eat dinner like it was nothing?

And like always, Satoru took it too far. But damn if it didn’t get him results.

Your eyes were back on him.

“Right, I think I’ll be leaving now—“ you stood up, not even having placed your order. The waitress caught off guard by your sudden announcement. Before you could finish raising from the chair, Satoru followed suit. Standing up frighteningly fast, causing you to stumble back. His quick reflexes caught you on instinct, straightening you back upright. You shrugged him off, not feeling too fond of the white haired sorcerer at the moment.

You looked over at your friend, “I’m so sorry, we’ll just meet up next time, okay?”

Your voice so sincere it made Satoru’s chest hurt. His cursed energy licking up his insides. He could barely reign in the emotions he felt kicking back up. He watched the exchange with growing annoyance, as your friend slowly stood up, agreeing. He hugged you before parting ways, and before Satoru could utter a word, you were flying past him, the opposite way.

“Hey, wait!” His long legs catching up with you quickly. You ignore him, opting to pretend he didn’t exist in that moment.

You were still fucking hungry. And now you were cold, the nighttime air biting at your exposed legs. You walked for a few blocks, as Satoru silently tailed behind you. He hadn’t said a word, and you hadn’t bothered looking back to check if he was still following. You’d been looking for a decent food stall you could buy some noodles at.

Sure, Satoru hasn’t specifically come out and said he’d refrain from talking to other girls. But you didn’t think he’d be so blatant with his flirting. And right in front of you. Right in front of your friend? How embarrassing.

Your conversation flitted back into your mind, remembering the possessive tinge to his words. As long as you stayed with him. And as long as you didn’t see anyone else. No labels needed.

You so badly wished he’d been more forward with his intentions. It almost felt like he was stringing you along. Did he even care about you the way you cared for him? You hadn’t even kissed him yet. But you’d heard the way he’s climaxed. Those two didn’t fit together, you thought.

But you weren’t sure you wanted to kiss him with the little tantrum he’d thrown earlier. And his blatant disregard for your feelings. Did all of that not apply to him? None of it made sense.

And now he was invading your other friendships, putting you in shitty positions by making you look bad. All you wanted was a chill night out. Catching up with a long time friend. Hearing about the new gossip around your hometown. It’d be ages since you’d gone out.

“You ready to talk?” His voice irritated you to no end, your head snapping back to look at him. Only to find yourself looking up. When had he gotten so close? You’d been so surprised you stumbled. “Wha—“

His cocked head back, looking down at you with icy eyes, stopping you in your tracks. Was that malice?—He pulled you off the side of the road, tugging you by your arm into a dim alleyway. You stumbled over your heels before you felt your back hit the freezing wall. He had you caged again, his hands on either side of your head.

“Let’s talk.” He’d decided for you. Voice dipping low, you felt a shudder run up your back. From the cold? or him? you aren’t sure. “Satoru-“ “Are you doing this on purpose.” His voice heavy, still maintaining a teasing lilt to his voice. Always teasing.

“Doing what?”

“Playing these little mind games.” He seemed to seethe, now, “Mind games?” You parrot, dumbfounded at his accusation. What the hell was he on about?

“Yes” he hissed out, laughing, “your little games.” His tone boarded on hysterical now, blindsiding you in seconds. The whiplash inevitable. He seemed to break at your lack of adequate response. Where was this coming from?

He leaned in closer, breath tickling your ear, “I can put up with the moaning and the whimpering coming from your room. The slutty clothes you wear around the house. The sly little looks you give me. The way you call my name in your sleep.” His voice teetering on the edge. “But I won’t have you running around in that skimpy outfit, meeting up with other men for dinner.” words harsh, and blunt.

Was that really how he saw you? Some needy whore he put up with? The thought made you cringe. Why’s he being so mean?

“If you didn’t want me there then you should have said something, Satoru.” You spat his name out like it was a rotten bite of food. Ignoring the fact that he’d finally addressed what you’d been skirting around these past few weeks.

But you’re too moody to deal with his bullshit right now. You go to move, wanting to just go home, “its none of your business what I wear, and who I go out with—“ He uses his body weight to his advantage pressing you back against the wall, his leg slitting between yours, easily riding up your dress. This position feeling uncannily familiar. His hand finds purchase in your hair, yanking your head back to look up at him, holding you in place.

“None of my business? No, Sugar. I’d definitely have to disagree.” His voice cold, any trace of teasing long gone. You struggled a little now, not knowing where he was going with this. But his eyes seemed to be swirling. He had to be going crazy. You refused to respond to this. He wasn’t acting like himself— “Should I just lock you up? Chain you to my bed?” You choke on your own spit. Maybe it’s just a bad joke? But that tone. And his eyes—“Y’know I could, right?” But he isn’t joking. This feeling—his cursed energy licking up your sides, pooling off of him. He wasn’t reining it in. This wasn’t your best friend— “wouldn’t even need your permission. Got a whole place where noooo one else would hear you.” He’s talking to himself—at you. You couldn’t find the words to respond. “You’re lucky I’m so nice.”

You’re shaking now, feeling his cursed energy press into you from every angle. He was suffocating, and for the first time you felt really felt scared of him. That strength always there but he’d never pointed it at you. This felt like a bad dream, your stomach twisting in knots. You just wanted him to stop.

“No other man would let his woman leave the house like that. Dolling herself up to meet some other guy. Whoring herself out-“ “Satoru…please.” His eyes seemed to finally refocus on you.

Your trembling form, the tears pooling in your eyes. From any other man’s perspective, it’d be the right thing to pull back, and let you breathe. If he were any other man, he might’ve given in and given you that comfort you so desperately craved right then and there.

And if it had been any other situation he would have.

He stood between your legs, your tight black dress bunched up high on your thighs. You were straining for some stability. He could feel your heat through your panties, and it made him feel that much more feral. Tears pooled around your eyes in the most provocative way, your lips twisted up like you were ready to cry. The image of you had been burned into his mind. He remembered how pretty you looked when you cried.

Your form trembling beneath him, gave him back all the control he’d lost when he was back at that table. You couldn’t have had any other ideas, coming out tonight looking like that. And to think if he hadn’t shown up, you’d still be sitting there across from another man. Having to watch you doll yourself up for anyone but him.

He hadn’t thought long about it before. What he’d actually do if you decided to try and find another partner. He was always so sure you’d be there for him. By his side. He’d always been the best. The strongest. Who wouldn’t want Satoru Gojo as a partner? He’d been waiting for you. Waiting for you to make a move, for you to come to terms with your feelings and give him more to work with. Flirting, in the only way he knew how. And he thought it’d been going pretty well. Considering how you responded to all of his advances.

But now. Now he couldn’t stand it. The concept of you leaving the house. The concept of you going on dates. The days leading up to tonight, you’d been going out more. Something he couldn’t stand. You’d gone too far this time. Satoru had already come to terms with all of his feelings. It was about time you did too. But he didn’t intend to play nice after what you’d done.

“What’s wrong?” He feigned a comforting tone. You began sniffling, trying to keep it together. “You gonna fuckin’ cry? After stringing me along like that?”

Looking up at him with those eyes. It made him fuckin insane. Your voice was shaky, “I didn’t—“ “I know you’re not gonna say you didn’t try and play me. You wouldn’t be that stupid to think this whole mess was a good idea? That you’d forgotten what I told you before.”

You didn’t know what to say, your mind so hazy and frazzled from your oncoming mental breakdown. He wasn’t helping it either with his incessant badgering. He was easily overcrowding you, his frame blocking your field of view. Your breathing picked up as you felt your vision closing in. He was everywhere. And all in between.

You’d wanted to tell him you really had only been going out to see a friend. And you really didn’t think it was that far off to assume you and Satoru weren’t together. But it was a little silly saying that. To not feel somewhat responsible for this. He was jealous of your friend. Fine. You could work with that. But were you dating? Did he consider what you’d had an actual relationship? You hadn’t even talked about it. Really talked about it. You kept repeating to yourself that you could fix this. You struggled to find the breaths and the words to voice your placations.

“I-I’m sorry.” You whisper, your voice somewhat breathy from panic. “Huuhh~” his voice drawn out, boarding on cruel (in your opinion) “What’d you say?” He leaned closer, voice lowering. “you’re too quiet.”

“I’m sorry, Satoru.” Your voice wobbled, as you tried not to cry. A tear made its way down your cheek despite your best efforts. You still loved him. Despite how much he was scaring you right now. You still loved your best friend. “Aww~” his thumb wiped away your tear, “you think a ‘sorry’s gonna cut it?” You couldn’t stop the trembling now, his actions boarding on unpredictable. He wasn’t being the best right now, but when this was over, it would all be ok. Everything would be ok.

Satoru had to think quickly. And his mind was running a mile a second. He had you pinned against himself and the wall, the alleyway hidden from flooded roads.

It was late, and the odds of being interrupted were low. He wouldn’t let the moment slip. He had to solidify his place in your life. Had to push past your thoughts of him being friendly or playful. He’d say anything—do anything if it meant no one else’d have you. And that thought terrified him. He was positive that if another man touched you, he’d rip his throat out. Without batting an eye. He’d been ready to do so had your “friend” given any slight hint of wanting to hook up. He had been so sure he’d scared him away last time, but it seems he hadn’t taken the hint.

You watched Satoru carefully, his words sinking in. You still had no idea what he wanted from you. Had he not wanted an apology? Was he teasing you again? “Satoru, I don’t know—“ he quickly leaned in—kissing you. His teeth nearly knocking against yours as he further dominated your space. His hand still tangled up in the back of your hair.

He groaned into you, rocking himself closer against your cunt. You were so out of breath, you opened for air, only to have his tongue push through your lips. The feeling of him —all of him—was enough to make your head spin and your mind go blank. His proximity calmed your nerves in a way that made you feel more antsy than ever before. His hands left your hair, and began to roam. Feeling, clinging to places he hadn’t been before. At least not ‘intentionally’.

Giving you a second to breathe, his eyes darted, trailing his hands, his head resting on your shoulder. He was panting like a dog now. He’d never felt so riled up. It was only when he was with you. Only with you.

He’d easily found his way under your dress, tugging the fabric up to expose you to the cold night air. “W-wait, please—“ Your tugging on his arm did nothing to stop him, as his free hand found its way around your neck. A firm warning to shut up. His other hand, groping at your pillowy thighs, making their way up your side, fingers toying the underside of your bra. He shifted his thigh, pushing it right against your clothed cunt. You’d let out a breathy moan at this, as he loosed his hold on your neck.

He could see the way you responded to him. You were just as desperate as he was. He could feel you grind your hips against his thigh. The fabric of his pants dampening from the contact, as he released a string of curses. Your nails clawing into his shoulders as he started leaving wet open mouthed kisses against your neck. You felt so fucking good. He could feel himself succumbing to your needy whimpers, placing his clothes cock right where your entrance was hiding. His hips setting a rhythm that left you whining against him. He never wanted this to end.

All those nights spent listening to your siren’s call through the walls. All of those nights spent listening to your needy whines and whimpers. Begging for someone to come fuck you. Watching you through those cameras. Fucking his fist so hard, til he became his own needy pathetic whimpering mess. So close, yet he wasn’t ever able to touch. You were a fucking tease. And he loved every bit of you.

You were panting again. You felt yourself grow wet, your thighs seeking some friction against his leg. You needed to hold onto something. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders.

“You wet, baby?” His voice was teasing again, loving the way your pussy seemed to beg for him. He’d slotted himself fully between you, holding one of your legs up only to grind against your soaked pussy. When you don’t respond, his fingers curl around your neck tighter. You nod, breathlessly. “yes, yes, please, feel s’good” you’re fighting to stand, balancing on one leg, but you were sure he’d catch you if you stumbled.

“Ah, so honest. Where was this good girl earlier?” He felt his cock strain against his pants, almost painfully. “So obedient now.” Your eyes glazed, you mind filling with lewd fantasies of him spanking you black and blue for disobeying his word. You weren’t a virgin by any means, but you sure as hell weren’t ready for this man. “Want me to fuck you here?”

His eyes watched you closely, scanning for any sign that you wanted him to stop. Though he doesn’t think he’d stop even if you had wanted him to. Finding nothing but lust clouding your vision, his fingers press in between your legs, edging the spot you needed him the most. He traced circles across your clit, stalling his dry humping. He was tempted just to eat out your pretty pussy there and now, feeling the slick pooling on his fingers. “Satoru,” you let out a breathy whine, bucking your hips.

“There you go. Look at you. You’re drenched for me.” You didn’t have the head space to be embarrassed now. When his fingers finally found your clit, it was game over. Your fingers dug into his back, desperately holding yourself up. His hand around your thigh offering some support as your knees buckled under you.

“Do you think you deserve to cum tonight?” Your gaze desperately snaps up to his. Your eyes pleading to let you cum. Begging him. He’s smiling at you, a genuine lazy smile. But his eyes do all the talking. “Answer me, pretty girl.”

You nod eagerly, feeling your hips push against his fingers again. He’s circling, slow and steady, painfully slow, never dipping into your dripping hole.

“Where’d that honesty go?” He narrowed his eyes, tutting. “Think long and hard about what you did tonight. Why you shouldn’t have gone out with him.” His words continued to wrap around your haze ridden mind, his pace picking up finally. “why you shouldn’t make me do unnecessary shit to earn your attention.” His voice nearing hostile now, as he rubbed your clit with damn near precision. “You think I like seeing you with him? That I like other men’s eyes on this body.” He was relentless in his pace, you felt yourself close, body stilling and mind barely listening, nails biting into him. You tried so hard to listen to him. So hard to be a good girl. So hard not to cum. “You’re mine. Everything that involves you, involves me. Every part of you—mine. Don’t you fuckin’ forget who you belong to.”

The sound of his voice mixed with his fingers slotting against you—not even inside you yet—had you climaxing hard. Your pussy clenching-pulsating around nothing. Satoru watch you come down from your high, transfixed on your face. On the way your hips pushed into him. The way your cum mixed slick coated his hand and fingers, dripping on his thigh. He was fucking obsessed. His fingers continue slowly circling your clit, maintaining a slow punishing pace. Your body going through shockwaves with each swipe, you desperately wiggle to get away, feeling heavily overstimulated.

“Please-please stop, ‘Toru, please, please” your whimpers and pleas going straight to his cock head. He couldn’t stop himself from abusing your cunt, wanting nothing more than to watch you squirm in his arms. He’d be nice.

He brought his fingers to his lips, taking a long digit into his mouth. Something he’d never wanted to do before. He just couldn’t help the morbid curiosity—what did you taste like? And fuck you tasted amazing. He cleaned his fingers, eyeing you hungrily.

“Who knew you’d be so naughty? Did you even listen to me?” His tone taunting, as if he were scolding a child. He flipped you around, pushing your chest against the wall, practically bending you over. It was uncomfortable to say the least. When you tried to move, he pressed his chest up against your back, leaning over you. Locking you in place. You felt his dick pressed against your ass, his hands on your hips.

“Stay still for me, yeah?” He rutted against you, letting out a strained groan.

“S’not fair.” He huffed against your neck, dry fucking you against the wall. Your previous slick trailing down your leg. You needed him inside you. So so so badly. “You don’t play fair.”

His hand finally made its way back to what you sure was a rats nest of hair. He’d already tangled it up either way. He finally had enough of the teasing, pulling himself free from his pants. He slotted himself between your folds, gathering some least your honeyed goodness before brutally thrusting into you.

He’d buried himself to the hilt, his hand holding your hip in place—leaving you no where to go. You’d wiggled to move away, and at your whimper, he all but growled into your neck, “take it. You’ll take it til I’m done. You hear me?”

He pulled himself to the tip before slamming himself into again, repeating the process over and over and over. The position had him hitting your sweet spot each thrust, the quiet whimpers turning into louder moans as his hand found its way to your mouth, fingers thrusting inside, gagging you. “You forget where we are? Pipe down, pretty girl. Don’t wanna get caught, do you?” He left his fingers in your mouth, fucking fiercely into you. Driving into you with a force that left you gasping. Each push pulled you closer to the edge as you felt like you were going to—needed to cum again.

He felt your cunt clench around his dick, felt it more than you knew. He felt everything tenfold, his infinity working overtime on all of his senses. His cursed energy never dropping. Felt your cunt pulsating around him, heard every wet slap his balls made against your puffy clit. Felt how you clenched up when he spoke to you, and wondered if you were always like that. His skin was set on fire—every part that touched you, burned.

“Shouldn’t even be getting off to this, y’know? Supposed to be my turn.” Each word enunciated by a rough thrust into you, your hushed moans and pants spurring him on. He was convinced you were his everything. You were just so tight and so warm. He wasn’t able to hold back when he pumped you full, his seed deep inside. He moaned out your name as he felt your cunt spasming around his dick. Sucking him in, milking his cock dry. His fingers slipping from your lips—tightly gripping your neck, his other brushing your hip.

He hadn’t bothered pulling out. Why would he? It wasn’t like he’d planned on letting you leave in the first place.

[discordiansamba]

zuko discovered his earthbending when he was around five and panicked. he can't be an earthbender. they're fighting earthbenders.

so he just. hides it. pretends he's a nonbender.

but he can't stay away from the lure of earthbending, so he sometimes practices in secret. it's really hard trying to figure things out on his own.

eventually ozai finds out about this and well. he's not happy about it. he knows it's impossible that ursa was unfaithful, which means there's no doubt zuko is his son. but if his son is an earthbender, that would call his rule into question- so he pretends zuko is a bastard and disowns him.

it's fine. he was always a failure anyways.

kenzo 100% knows zuko is not his grandson. zuko does not know this. kenzo does not know who exactly zuko actually is- it's not really important anyways. he's a child who was traveling all alone. he needs a warm bed and food in his stomach. a place to stay where he can be safe.

he assumes that zuko might be from the colonies- maybe even of mixed blood, given that he clearly has never had any formal earthbending training in his life.

the villagers are a little suspicious of zuko at first, given the fact that he's obviously fire-blooded, but as time goes on they kind of forget their suspicions. if kenzo says he's his grandson, that's good enough for them.

lao beifong is a frequent patron of kenzo, and therefore zuko travels to gaoling often to deliver his finished commissions. lao has absolutely asked kenzo to teach his daughter toph the art of pottery at one point, feeling that it would be a fine pastime for his poor blind daughter, but kenzo took one 'look' at her and was like. what this young girl wants is not a peaceful life of pottery.

kenzo is not completely blind, but can only make out vague shapes and outlines. he lost his eyesight much later in his life, due to an illness. he was already working as a potter then and had to relearn his craft.

zuko ends up befriending toph. of course he does.

toph: huh. who's this guy and why is he lying about what his name is. ah well. none of MY concern.

zuko attends an earth rumble and watches as the little beifong girl absolutely thrashes grown men twice her side. hah. blind and helpless his ass. grandpa was right.

she agrees to help teach him more combative earthbending. she likes the cut of your jib, mudslinger.

you've seen: the gaang forgets toph is blind. now get ready for: toph forgets zuko isn't blind, because he's been exclusively taught earthbending by two blind people.

zuko may be doing a little light blue spiriting on the side. just a tad.

he gets roped into a standing draft of earthbenders a little bit before aang gets out of the iceberg and is just like. well. fuck. this isn't a great development but if i'll definitely draw more attention to myself if i try to desert.

the term of service is only three years. he can get through that, right? then he can go back home to grandpa.

...oh uh. huh. that is his home, isn't it?

at least he makes a new friend? sensu seems like a great guy.

coincidentally happens to be in the area when zhao captures aang. this looks like a great time to sneak out of camp and do a few blue spirit activities.

iroh helps protect the moon spirit at the north pole and later asks aang for a favor. can you keep an eye out for my nephew as you travel the earth kingdom? his father falsely disowned him as a bastard years ago and i have reason to believe he has been hiding there.

sokka: that shouldn't be too hard. a firebender in the earth kingdom should stand out.

iroh: no. he is an earthbender actually.

sokka: what.

(zuko's past, is in fact, about to catch up with him. but he has more important things to worry about- like sensu's unit being captured.

time for blue spirit activities?

hey wait is that the avatar.)

earthbender zuko would just be shun zuko getting mistaken by a blind potter for his dead grandson and then just. never leaving. he can't break this old man's heart. he ends up learning not only his craft but also a lot of other earthbending tips and tricks from the old man whom he genuinely starts to think of as his grandpa at some point.

(spoiler alert: the old man knows full well zuko isn't his grandson. in fact he doesn't even have a grandson. but the scrawny, clearly starving and definitely abused refugee kid will definitely stick around if he pretends to think otherwise.)

...and then he gets drafted into the earth king's army. well. isn't this ironic.

[7cmdilated]

Maddie's second birth, part 30

Maddie guides the baby out as instructed, applying gentle pressure and tugging. She angles the baby's body upward, keeping gentle support as she helps the rest of the body out.

She imagines the wailing of the mother as she does this. She imagines every tug sending renewed burning through the struggling mother's vagina. She remembers her own desperate struggling as the doctor had done not only this, but a far more brutal ordeal to her as he had reached his whole arm in to turn a breech baby before forcefully pulling him out. How desperately, for hours, had she begged for it to be over, only at the end to realize the magnitude of just what she was asking as the doctor swiftly brought her ordeal to an end through a few seconds of unimaginable agony.

She's glad it happened to her, for what it awakened in her. Her arousal may not be at the forefront of her mind as she practices, but her imagination runs wild in anticipation of performing the real thing one day. Or even experiencing it herself again.

Med school isn't a prudent time for that, of course, and her IUD will surely prevent that from happening soon, as she looks forward to this weekend's date, but after she graduates, maybe she'll settle down and try it again.

***

The baby's buttocks are fully exposed now, stretching Maddie's vagina wide open. Maddie squirms and shouts and wails, legs kicking against the stirrups and head thrashing side to side.

Beneath all the agony, she knows that she needs to push. But her past experience and her professional training aren't going to help her here - no woman can endure this brutal level of agony when it comes time for her to experience it, no matter how prepared she is, no matter how professionally she would handle someone else's ordeal. The memories of the clinical classroom settings, her flawless treatment of the silicone dummies in the simulators, and her pride at having made it through one natural birth seem to mock her with how she's found herself now. Not even the triumph and ecstasy of achieving two climaxes during this labor can mitigate the utter completeness of the wreck she's been reduced to.

Maddie arches her back, hands close to flailing as she desperately tries to grab for something. One hand finds a rail on her bed while the other claws into the bedsheets. Her body writhes, lurching around with her baby still protruding from her.

"Maddie, it's okay. You're so close. Push!"

Heather, still filming the scene, aims the camera between Maddie's legs, shouting her encouragement as best she can over Maddie's cries. Perhaps she should set down the camera and offer her girlfriend a hand, a push in the back, anything. But Maddie wanted her doing this. Heather knows Maddie will cherish this footage after all is over.

Maddie continues to heave and twist on the bed. A nurse presses on her shoulder, trying to ground her back to reality for these last couple of pushes, but she seems not to notice.

"Do you want to take my hand? Come here, grab onto me." Heather moves forward, keeping her camera aimed at Maddie but moving within reach. Maddie seems to be galvanized by this, but she doesn't take Heather's hand, and instead she grabs both thighs with her hands, pulling them back out of the stirrups, and she curls forward with a renewed energy.

Maddie holds still and silent for a few seconds before a helpless squeal bursts through her clenched teeth. But she manages to hold the push still, and her feet draw up in exertion, toes curling tight.

Heather retreats back to the foot of the bed and continues filming. Maddie's thighs quiver as the baby, thrusting out of her vagina, slides forward slightly.

A head-first baby would give her some relief as her vagina would relax momentarily after allowing the full head through. But there's no such salvation for her, and if she doesn't push hard enough, her baby will stay exactly where she is, keeping up the torment on her vagina.

She collapses back and howls. The searing pain in her vagina is relentless. No longer does the pain recede, even slightly, as she releases the pressure. There's no respite anymore as her baby, buttocks and thighs all at once, is fully lodged tightly in her vagina.

"Just a little more!"

Heather urges her on. Maddie helplessly obeys, clawing into her thighs, feet kicking up and twisting. She yells again, a primal, strangled noise that matches her exertion with her pain. She holds the push, even as the burning spikes and needles at her terribly.

Her yell wavers. She can't hold it down forever. Even with the strength she's mustering, it's overwhelming her. She forces herself to yell louder, trying to keep low and controlled, but it breaks into a panicked shriek.

The dam bursts and she collapses back, and thoroughly overcome, she shrieks. She sobs and wails. Her grip on her thighs releases, and instead of going back into the stirrups, she instinctively closes her legs. Two nurses by her side hurriedly pull them back open.

Her hands thrust down toward her vagina, desperately trying to do anything to stop the pain. The nurses by her side take her hands and gently guide them away. Maddie screams uncontrollably, unable to concentrate her strength any further.

And suddenly, she feels merciless tugging, prying her vagina cruelly open. Her repeated screams, shrill and short, coalesce into one long screech. Her body thrashes but the nurses hold her down. Her work is done. It could have been less painful, but she's hit her limit and the doctor has taken over. She can do nothing but endure.

"Get her out! Please get her out!"

It continues. She can feel every millimeter of her opening vagina pulled far beyond its limit. Her thrashing head twists violently before she buries the side of her face into her pillow and muffles her scream somewhat.

"Please! Pull, pull! Pull her out! Please!"

She's barely coherent at this point. The nurses have let her hands go, and she reaches back down to her thighs, pulling them back again. She inches her fingers down her thighs to as close as her vagina as she can, and pulls at either side, trying to open herself wider. She screams into her pillow.

And the haze of pain bursts. She screams for a few more moments, utterly overwhelmed and unable to remember where she is. She starts to feel the gushing of remaining fluid out of her battered, stinging vagina. She feels her belly finally relaxing at long last. She lets go of her thighs and they nestle back into the stirrups. She gasps and cries out as she reorients herself.

A nurse pulls her gown aside and she feels the warm, wet body of her newborn daughter placed on her bare chest. Her gasps turn into sobs of relief and joy. It's over.

[puhpandas]

drew them before bed

[akeemarcus]

He stared at him for a handful of seconds, gauging his reaction before his shoulders lifted and fell into a casual shrug, letting it go. ❝ Alright. ❞ He wasn't sure he believed him, drawing all sorts of wrong conclusions, like maybe he had a crush on Isla or something . . . but he wasn't bothered by it, either. He was, surprisingly, not a jealous person. Not when it came to the living.

❝ Sorry, man. I know that's not what you wanted to hear. ❞ Kingston knew it wasn't comforting, but anything else would be a lie. And while he was clearly capable of dishonesty, he wasn't a path logical liar or anything ; just a dumb kid in over his head. ❝ If it's any consolation, I think it just makes it mean more . . . when there's something to lose. ❞ Of course, everyone had different stakes, he could never explain how much was actually on the line with him. Maybe if he could, it would make Thomas' reasons seem less suffocating. Or maybe he would just instantly hate him.

❝ We're friends, ain't we? ❞ He knew as he said it that it wasn't entirely true ; though he appeared to be a social butterfly, Kingston didn't have friends, not really. A friend to all was a friend to none. It was hard to be close to people when they could never know you and he, Marcus, had always been more of a loner. He wanted to be loved, he craved appreciation like oxygen, but he did not care to be surrounded by people. Still, he liked Thomas enough — he liked all of them here, perhaps some ( Isla ) more than others, he cared about their well beings. But what did that matter, when he had cared about Luke's, too?

I was like his fuckin' pet or something. The words, though meant to be about himself, felt like a slap to Kingston's face. That was how he had acted, wasn't it? Like a stray dog following him around, lost the moment his owner was gone, not knowing what he was meant to do . . . who he was meant to be. He had practically worshiped the ground Luke walked on, let his charm win people over for him ; he did anything and everything he was asked without question, as if there was no reason to doubt him, no reason to take a step back and wonder what Luke was getting out of their friendship. He longed to be seen as his equal so much he was willing to give a life, though not his own, for it. Now, he drew a ragged breath, the air around them seeming to drop ten degrees with new realizations.

❝ He was my best friend, you know, ❞ he spoke after a moment, the words so genuine they felt heavy in a different way. ❝ First real friend I ever made. Well. I thought he was, anyway . . . guess I was a pretty shitty one, too. ❞ Arguably worse ; would Luke have gone looking for him, had he been missing? He didn't know . . . he didn't know which answer was worse. When he spoke again, a strange tone took over his voice, like a warning, his eyes trained on the distance, seeing something that wasn't there. ❝ It sucks, doesn't it? — When people don't turn out to be who you thought they were. ❞

AT KINGSTON'S QUESTION , thomas's head flew up , a heated flush crawling up his neck and dampening his features in a scarlet humiliation . " w-what ?? NO , man — god . fuckin' hell , i'm just — i'm not trying to say anything . " tom heaved a sigh , pushing his hand through his hair — fisting his curls , only to hiss in response to the agonizing irritation of the gash still tacky on the back of his skull .

thomas swallowed down the man's words , let them fester in his gut like a brewing sickness , and crinkled his brows as he moved the pad of his thumb to his clenched teeth . his bite found his cuticle , beginning to gnaw at it ferociously , his other arm wrapping around his torso to offer his bent elbow a post of stability . " there's no way someone doesn't get hurt , " thomas echoed , shaking his head , as if the response wasn't to his satisfaction and he was hoping — praying — for the man to say anything else .

thomas didn't necessarily believe in happy endings , but he was hoping there was some reality in which he and eliza got out of the predicament they were in unscathed . that camille would accept them , their connection , with open arms , minimal questions , and little restraint . little resistance . it was a fantastical concept meant to ease his own guilt , but kingston's words struck like a metal spear — a reminder that there was no way to get to the other side of this without someone , without camille , being there to break his fall .

" i dunno , " the man shrugged , frowning at the blanket of soot-caked grass . " there's just , " thomas sighed . " there's this girl , i uh , i met her , , , , back home , " not a lie . " — that's why i'm askin' . SHE'S why i'm askin' . and i don't know if you know this but my only friend , that isn't my sister , turned out to be a demonic shit bag . though , now that i'm fuckin' thinkin' about it , i don't think he was ever my fuckin' friend to begin with . i was like his , , , his fuckin' pet or something . " rambling now , thomas cleared his throat , finally prying his thumb from his mouth to drop his chin to his sternum ; " god , i don't even know what i'm talkin' about . i need a fuckin' smoke . "

[xxplastic-cubexx]

you open my Super Important Documents and its just pictures of charles xavier

[lienwyn]

Kang Yo Han in his natural habitat, as observed by Kim Ga On

OR

You want to fuck that old man so bad it makes you look stupid

[mitskikissme]

My very rushed love letter to @rowdyknives fanfic what it means to love her. hes such a talented writer no jokeee

[coyoteclan]

There are 330 following this blog now HI

Thought I'd share some territory concepts I've been working on! Both for Coyoteclan and a second clangen blog I've been debating, which is set in the wild west :)

I'll write a little blurb for each little area under the cut for those curious about these locations (and separate images)

Coyoteclan

Fallen-Tree Coyoteclan's Leader den and clan meeting place. The tree is ancient and hollow, the entrance coated in the scratches of long-gone cats. The Leader calls meetings from atop the tree, while the deputy sits on the rocks below.

Thunder River A small collection of waterfalls that eventually lead to the sea. From here, you can hear an ominous, melodic sound coming from the beach.

Graves of the Fallen The resting place for Coyoteclan cats. Coyoteclan prefer to commune with their dead here, but still go with the other healers during halfmoon.

Sweetwater Wilds

Trail of Blood Untamed land filled with bandits and danger. Not only are there plenty of predatory animals living here, but it's a popular hiding place for many outlaws.

Canyon of Stars A place for communing with the stars. Sheriffs and Healers visit often for guidance, though some bandits are known to come here in secret.

Hareshade's Dawn Not really a place but this is the Sheriff of Sweetwater Wilds lol I really like her but she's SO TRANSPHOBIC she is BULLYING the only trans cat in the clan and I cannot stop her

[artifeast]

some more telesphore :3