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the-demon-of-a-thousand-eyes · 6 months ago

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𝒜 𝒮𝑜𝓃'𝓈 𝒟𝑒𝓋𝑜𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃: 𝒩𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝐵𝑒 𝒯𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓃 𝒮𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓁𝓎 (A TDoaTE and AMD Crossover smutfic)

Pairing: M!OC (Harry James, first born son of Carla James from A Mother's Devotion) x F!OC (Theia, The Demon of a Thousand Eyes)

Story Summary: In an AU for both AMD and TDoaTE, Theia would have arrived at the hotel on Rosie's behest, but instead of falling in love with her Alastor, a different Alastor, one with a far more sinister shadow, would reside at the hotel, and beside him, a perky, chipper, and seemingly young doe-like woman had decided to play house. She decided upon first glance that like all the wayward residents at the hotel, that Theia, too, needs a mother figure, and Theia, dealing with parental abandonment issues and running away from home along with a bounty of secrets, decides to indulge her want for this if nothing else than so she can have a mother who loves her. One day, Harry, her eldest son, along with four of his brothers, arrive at the hotel. He's terse, he's taciturn, and he's incredibly tall---nearly twice her height. Life continues, and she begins to notice him, tries to get to know him, but nothing works. He refuses to open up to her. Until out of nowhere, he starts getting furious and bitter when anyone approaches. Anyone and everyone, except, inexplicably, her.

Word Count: 8.2k Authors: @home-for-wayward-fawns and I co-wrote this, and you can find A Mother's Devotion on his blog, or up-to-date on AO3 here.

Warnings: Cannibalism, Tentacles, Biting, Blood, Obsessive Behavior, minor spoilers for TDoaTE

Pre-Story A/N from Sera: Sorry for those dutifully waiting on Chapter 39 of TDoaTE; I promise I will have it up soon. This little bug of an idea has been in my head for months now, as I co-write AMD with it's author. I know the entire plot to AMD, and have been a simp for Harry since the idea of him emerged, so of course we got to talking about an AU where Theia is a part of Carla's life, deemed one of her children. Harry never falls in love in AMD, but in this shared universe, she and Harry would be perfect together. The following is the day the two of them give in to their feelings. It is almost entirely PURE SMUT and a delight to read, if I do say so myself. Enjoy!

When Theia first met Harry, he was cold and aloof. He rarely spoke, unless he thought it crucial, and even then, it was terse, to the point. He was like that with everyone, even his own brothers, and it struck her that he tolerated them more than got along. It was if it was expected of him more than anything else. He stuck to his mother Carla like glue, determined to stand between her and anyone else who got too close, constantly watching out for danger, determined to keep her from any perceived threat. He never laughed at her jokes; she tried so hard to get him to crack a smile at her puns—her absolutely terrible puns—but nothing worked; if he even reacted, it was just a raised eyebrow or a small eye roll before he made his way out of her line of sight.

Lately, he'd been more fire than ice. She had seen Harry stalking around the hotel, all growls and irritation, clearly upset about something. He’d been rude to everyone, snapping at Niffty for being underfoot, starting fights with Husk more often than usual, and just generally being on edge. She swore he’d nearly bit Angel’s head off just because they were having a conversation at the bar. She hadn’t been drinking, had sworn off whiskey long ago to appease Carla, but sitting with Angel had become a passtime nevertheless. She’d just sighed and got up to go to the kitchen, deciding that it wasn’t worth the bother to try and ask him again why he was in such a foul mood.

It had only gotten worse as the days continued on, Harry seemingly being irked by every little thing. Snapping at one of his brothers for lingering in the kitchen for too long when she was preparing a snack, or barking at a different one for leaving a perceived mess on the lounge floor. He’d appeared ready to bite another one’s heads off because he didn’t appreciate ‘his stench’ lingering in the halls. Each and every time, she would watch as his brothers backed off, cowering their heads in submission to the eldest of the Gill boys. One would expect this to appease Harry, but it didn’t; it seemed to only make him worse—he wanted a fight. So he started picking fights with Alastor—someone who wouldn’t hold back after being disrespected— and while it had never been in front of Carla, she somehow always managed to find them to pull Harry away by the ear. Perfect Harry, the perfect son, snapping and snarling with a rage uncharacteristic of him. She didn’t understand why he wouldn’t go to Carla for help, why he would growl at everyone—everyone but her. For being so standoffish for so long, it had suddenly turned sweet, suddenly almost doting of all things.

He’d been spending more time around her, time she hadn’t expected, asking about her day, standing closer to her than usual. She noticed his gaze seemed to follow her everywhere she went, and his sudden attention—focus—confused her.

She hadn’t been sleeping well lately, waking in the middle of the night, so she’d woken up late, too late for breakfast. She’d gone downstairs to make herself something, but as she did so, she noticed that Carla’s usual spread had been devoured, nothing left but crumbs. There was no one left in the dining room, no one but Harry.

He appeared to be staring into space, eyes unfocused as if lost in thought. She approached him quietly, cautiously, and when she was a few steps away from him, she asked in almost a whisper, “Harry, are you alright?” Seeming to right himself in an instant, his gaze snapped up to hers, his face still that always indifferent expression. “Of course.” He replied dismissively, before immediately asking, “Have you eaten?”

She winced as she shook her head. “I stayed up too late last sight and slept in this morning. I was just going to make myself something quick since everything’s already been eaten.” He raised an eyebrow at first, as if confused, then after a moment, he decided, “Sit. I’ll make you breakfast.” He stood then, and she was once again reminded of how tall he was, towering over her at nearly double her own height. She blinked, all twenty-nine eyes fluttering in surprise. He pulled out a chair for her to sit, and she did so, craning her head up to meet his gaze. “That’s incredibly sweet of you, Harry. Thank you.”

He nodded and left for the kitchen. She blinked again, puzzled at his choice of action, and stared down into the eyes on her dress. The eyes stared back. She hadn’t known he could cook, not really—certainly not enough to make her a meal—but perhaps it had been something he’d picked up from his mother. Closing her own, opened the eyes in the kitchen and watched his movements. He seemed to know what he was doing, taking out the tools and ingredients he’d need to prepare her something special—taking care to collect a jar of eyes she hadn’t noticed before, as if he’d gone out of his way to find them himself—and pluck a few green ones from inside. He didn’t even flinch, barely even blinked, as he tossed them into the pan to cook them, and it made her smile. He started on the coffee as the eyes cooked, and she saw him drop a pair of brown ones inside her personalized mug. When had he taken notice of her habits, known she preferred to cook with green, that brown went into her coffee? What else had he paid attention to, observed and taken note?

When it was done, he plated the cooked eyes, turned off the stove, and filled her mug with coffee. As he left the kitchen for the dining room again, she closed the ones in the kitchen and opened her own once more.

As he set the food before her, she smiled up at him, asking, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm always okay; I'm Perfect Harry; didn't you know?" He said it in a comforting tone, but his empty expression didn’t match it. There was something darker in his eyes, something different than the usual blood thirst for which he ached. He was standing next to her, as he so often was these days, always looming over her, as if trying to show off how big and strong hea was, as if he needed her to know.

She just chuckled as she took a bite of the eyes he brought her, sipped her coffee with a smile. "How could I ever forget? It's not as if Carla doesn't always remind me. Thank you again for the food, Harry. It's awfully thoughtful of you."

He didn't tell her that he liked just being Harry, that she didn't feel the need to remind him constantly how perfect he was, but she knew it to be true. She knew his mother din't mean to put so much pressure on him; knew Carla loved him, but she knew how exhausting it must be having to be perfect all the time. She knew he had five brothers because of Carla’s little mantra she would repeat when she was upset. One of them—Peter, along with Poppy, her only daughter— weren’t around, but Theia assumed they were both in Heaven, happy and carefree with a life far less complicated than her own. With four other brothers around, it struck her as odd that all the weight of Carla’s expectations always fell to him. It was easy for her to just let him be himself—just Harry—when he was around, and lately, it seemed as if that’s all he wanted, to simply exist in her presence.

"I like watching you eat, knowing that I was the one who made it for you." He told her simply, and there was a thickness in the air as he let the words fall. Standing all the while, he watched her as she ate. It wasn’t unexpected; he was just like that to her, looming and watching, and she was okay with it. It was an intense gaze that didn't falter until she let out a pleased sigh, taking bites and sipping her coffee. His entire body relaxed, looking like the pup who’d received the praise it craved. While his posture loosened, he still watched her—always watched her—something she’d almost come to expect.

He watched as she chewed, and she noticed as his gaze followed her movements, focusing on the way her sharp teeth bite into the eyeballs she suspected he harvested himself with her specifically in mind. The look in his gaze told of a story she couldn’t read yet, one she craved to know. As a keeper of secrets, Theia knew that Harry had quite a few, despite his aloof demeanor. Just as he knew she had many, she had a strong impulse to learn what he deemed so important as to keep them from his own mother. For instance, when had he learned how to prepare eyeballs so well? It certainly wasn’t a skill she would have taught him.

Theia smiled softly and continued to eat. It was delicious. Despite all of Carla's complaints about her children never learning how to cook, he must have gotten some kind of advice somewhere, for it was some of the best she'd ever had. She raised an eyebrow as she sipped her coffee again. "This is delicious. I didn't know you could cook. Eyes can be quite temperamental."

"I don't typically enjoy cooking, but I know enough to get by. I cooked for Mama when it got harder for her towards the end. I'd happily cook for you more often if it's what you desire." He looked down at her as he said the word, his gaze unfaltering as she ate.

She blushed softly and continued to eat. For a moment she was stunned, confused by his words, and it took her a while to respond. She wasn’t used to being caught off guard, liked to have a quick word for everything, but here he managed to do it. She sipped her coffee and let one of the eyeballs fall into her mouth, chewing it thoughtfully, using it to take the time to think of a response. She'd always thought he was handsome, tall, strong. She'd hidden it for a long time, or at least tried to do so, knowing that Carla saw her like a daughter and he was her son. She'd tried to think of him as a brother, but that had never really been an option, so while amicable, she'd kept her distance. Now, it seemed as if she was the only one in the entire hotel he had any interest in even being around, and it confused her, but she liked how much he seemed to care. After she sipped her coffee again, she looked him in the eyes and gave him a soft smile as she said, "She was lucky to have you there for her, when she needed you most. I've never had someone like that, there for me when I needed them, making meals for me, not since I ran away." She took another bite and continued, "I'd be happy to eat whatever you make me, if it would be as delicious as this."

"I'll look after you." He growled low, and it almost sounded angry, like her words had sparked something deep and primal from within him. He coughed, trying to gain composure. "I'd like you to come to me to look after you. I'd really like it." She flushed even as she saw him flinch. She made a note that her family life—or rather her lack of one—upset him, bothered him that she didn't have what he did. She'd admit it, too, if pressed enough, but that isn't something she feels discussing with him just yet. She shivered as his words reverberated in the room, his growl seeming to wrap around her. It was warm, like a blanket, but there's something about it that makes her want him closer to her.

"I've always felt so safe with you, Harry." She said in barely a whisper, feeling slightly overwhelmed. "I'd like that too."

"I spent my entire life devoted to my mother; never once was my attention enraptured by another, and yet I find my thoughts drifting to you often. What do you want from me? I'd be happy to provide." He said, and there was a heavy intention to the words that she couldn’t quite decipher. It almost felt like a challenge, like he was daring her to come up with something ridiculous; if there were any man who would stand against the test of time, who would be arrogant enough to stand against the test of Heaven’s might, it was Harry.

She blushed impossibly harder, and it felt as if her face might melt. She was stunned a second time in the same conversation, and she had to take another sip of her coffee, let the other eyeball fall into her mouth as she contemplated a response. The very notion that any man—much less perfect Harry—would take an interest in her, was surprising. She'd never let herself give in to that interest, that want, but she found herself craving that especially as he looked at her like that. She's reminded once again of how incredibly tall he is, towering over her, looming, but it's not terrifying as it ought to be. It's comforting, knowing that he could protect her just as easily as he could break her. She finished off the last bite of her food and swallowed the rest of the coffee. She had to tilt her head up so far to look into his eyes, and she's almost convinced she's on fire. He'd always smelled so good to her: smoke, earth, and often like fresh blood, but somehow it's stronger; it's more and she wants to smother herself in it. "I-" She started and stuttered, not realizing how difficult this would be to say, given, well, everything. She took a breath and started again. "Harry, I'd take anything you gave me, as long as it was from you." She stood, took a step closer to him, and even as she did, it was still not close enough, and he's still so tall. "This is...hard for me to say, so I'll try to be as clear as I know how to be." She bit her lip, struggling to keep her gaze fixed on his. She was looking at him—always looking at him—but her gaze was blurred, unfocused, uncertain. "I want you. I want you in any way that you'll have me." She shifted her feet nervously, already embarrassed in anticipation of a rejection. "Sorry if that's too much; I know you don't see me like that…"

He cut her off, leaning in for a kiss, and she could feel his entire body vibrate as he purred against her lips. He was gentle, and a little awkward, growling as he pulled away. It confused her, his tone, and it showed on her face until he spoke. "You have no idea how I see you. I know what Mama says about me, Theia, but she's wrong. I may be the perfect son, but I'm a terrible man. I want you—all of you—and if you give that to me, I won't let you take it back. There is no power that will keep you from me. Devotion is kind of my family's whole shtick; let me give it to you, please." She practically whimpered as he pulled away, choosing to step closer to him—needing to be closer to him—close enough that she had to tilt her head so incredibly far back just to meet his gaze again. "I know you're not perfect. You don't have to be with me." She gave him a soft smile as she continued, "I'm certainly not perfect either, and I happen to like that dark side of you, the side she pretends doesn't exist. I want you, all of you, exactly as you are, Harry."

She wanted to kiss him back, but he was so tall that she'd have to pull her tentacles out just to reach him, just to stretch and climb him. They wanted to escape her, wanted to trap him against her so he could never leave, never escape, never abandon her like everyone else always had. "Please kiss me again. Please." She didn't mean for it to come out as a beg, but there was something about him, something about how close he was, about how she ached to be closer. She let her weight fall against him, practically groaning at the feeling of his body on hers. "I might break if you don't."

"I'll never let you break; I take care of what's mine." He kissed her again gently; his lips touched hers and he was so warm to the touch that it was like he was a roaring inferno. He ran his hand through her hair like she was something delicate for which he wanted to care. He pulled away again, scooting out a chair so he could sit on it. He looked at her, almost at the same eye level now, as he spread his legs comfortably, leaning forward. "There's no leaving my family, Theia. You can ask any of my brothers; I won't let you leave. This is your out. Tell me you want me, and I promise to take care of you in every possible way, or walk away now. I won't hold it against you. I'll still be your Harry; I'll still protect you always, but you'll be free of me. Devotion is worthless if it’s forced; trust me; I know."

He stared into the large eye at the center of her face—his favorite one—as he waited for her response.

She shuffled her feet again, biting her lip. "You know that I have secrets. There are things that view don't know, things I haven't told...well, anyone. If you take me as I am, promise to never leave me, I'll tell you them, and they'll be yours to keep. I'll tell you one right now: I don't have forever: to live, to be with you, but I'll be yours as long as I can be." She crossed the room to him, the few steps that it was, and somehow managed to climb into his lap, resting her legs across his so they dangled over the side. She felt so small, so fragile, so safe. She sighed into his warmth and looked up into his eyes. "I don't want out. I want to be yours, Harry. Forever, if I could, but I know that's not an option. It's not much, but I promise you all the time I have left." She placed a hand over his heart, curled into his side, and looked up into his eyes. "I want to never be rid of you. Please, Harry. I've never been more sure of anything before." "You will give me forever, and I don't much care who I have to go through to get it, but we can discuss that when you're ready." He told her, and it hurt that she believed him; she believed that there was no power that Harry would not stand against to get what he wanted. She remembered the day he met Lucifer, towering over the Devil himself with a stone cold expression, and demanded his mother’s soul back. He was fearless, and cold, and ready for war. That was Perfect Harry. She’d kept out of sight that day, and since Lucifer had been so preoccupied with Carla and everything else going on, she’d managed to keep him from noticing her, hiding in the background, but with Harry, she felt like she didn’t have to be.

He placed one hand on her waist before pressing a hungry kiss to her lips. She was open, and willing, and ached to be his. She ached to belong to someone who would fight against all the most powerful creatures in existence, to be kept safe by someone empowered by devotion and duty. He pushed her down on his thigh, slowly bouncing her on it as he groaned into the kiss.

"Mine." He growled into her mouth as he pulled her closer, as if she could never be close enough to satisfy him.

"Yours." She practically sobbed with a desperate breath, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "If anyone could break this curse—fix me—I bet it's you." She stared into his eyes, all twenty-nine of hers focused on his two. Forever seemed like a lifetime more than she had, even if what she did was far longer than the average human lifespan, seemed like so long to the average sinner. Thoughts swam in her head: so many secrets, so much history she'd never told anyone, never wanted to tell anyone before him. "I have so much to tell you, so much to say, but all of that can wait." She murmured against his lips, peppering kisses as she spoke. "Prove to me that I'm yours, Harry. Prove to me that you'll never leave me, that I'll be yours forever."

He kissed along her cheek, trailing kisses down her neck, being mindful of her eyes. "I'll never leave you. Welcome to the family, Theia."

He stood up, wrapping his arms around her waist as he did so. She wrapped his legs around his to steady herself, and she felt his cock jump in excitement against her thigh. He walked her to his room, kicking his door open as he walked inside before quickly turning, pushing her against it. "Fuck, you're so fucking gorgeous. You're mine." He growled, panting against her neck as he slid a large clawed hand up her thigh, hastily pulling her skirt up. "Fuck, I've never—I've never done this before."

"That's–That's okay." She panted, throwing her head back against the door with a soft thunk, bucking her hips in anticipation. "I know that you'll be amazing." She groaned as he nipped at the side of her neck, threaded her hands through his thick head of black hair. "You're mine after all." She said with a wink. He clawed at her panties, trying to pull them off her hips. "Shred them;" she moaned; "I just want you." The sound of fabric tearing hit her ears, and it fell away from her in an instant. She was slick, and wanting, and desperate. She knew that he was still fully clothed, and she couldn't possibly reach him from this angle even if she tried. She bit her lip and blushed again. "You're practically twice my height; how is this going to work?" He didn't respond to her as his claws dug into her now naked hips and he pushed her up against the wall. He lifted her legs over his shoulders as he licked up her thighs with a long thick tongue. "I'll make it work; I need to taste you first." He whispered low, before he was pulling her flush against his face, pressing his thick tongue between her glistening folds. He groaned in approval as if he were satisfied by the taste, as if she were a meal to be savored. He pushed his tongue deep inside her, dug his claws into her skin, holding her tight as she wrapped her legs around the back of his head. She burrowed her hands in his thick, dark head of hair, pulling at him, and he groaned. He felt her find his large wolf ears, scratching behind them, and he moaned, feeling his tail begin to wag in excitement.

She moaned too, tugging at his hair, pulling him closer to her, wanting him deeper, filling her. "You don't need," she purred as she bucked her hips into his face, "to be gentle with me. I like it rough." She found herself crying out and grabbing fistfuls of his hair as he nipped at her with those sharp teeth of his. "Yes!" She exclaimed as that tongue curled inside her. He was slow and deliberate, as if she were a feast to be devoured and he had all the time in the universe. "Please," she found herself begging, though for a second she wasn't sure for what, "please, Harry, faster, deeper. I need more."

She felt him snarl against her as she bucked her hips into his mouth. He raked his claws down her thighs, wrapping his hands round the back of her knees and pinning them to the wall behind her. She gasped in shock and felt a full-body shiver run through him. He burrowed his tongue deeper inside her, seeming to enjoy the way she helplessly rutted against his face, clawing her nails against his scalp. She arched her back and bucked her hips into his face again as his tongue found that spot inside her that always caused her to see stars. "There!" She cried out with a sob, tears pricking at the seven eyes on her face, "Right there!" Her nails dug into his scalp, and if she were less distracted, she might have been concerned that she'd hurt him, but in that moment, her only focus was climbing closer to that peak. "More," she begged softly, pleadingly, "more, please."

He looked up at her, his hands tightening around her knees as he pushed her feet up to her head. She looked beautiful, perfectly bent in two for him as she arched her back, clawing against his scalp. He slowly pulled away, licking up to her clit and pressing the flat of his tongue against it. He growled as she began to rock her hips, using his tongue to find her release until she let out a beautiful howl of pleasure. Her entire body shook around him and he let her ride out her orgasm. He slowly pulled her down, grinning as she wrapped her arms around him, and he licked up her neck. "Mine. All Mine." He growled into her ear. "I need to be inside you. I want you to take my knot. Tell me you want it; tell me you want me, gorgeous." She moaned at the thought of him filling her, stretching her so incredibly full. She had no doubt he'd be massive—so incredibly big even without it—but knotting her, she'd be stretched even more, stuck to him. "Please," she panted as she raked her nails across his scalp, "yours. Forever yours. I want you. I want you so bad it hurts." She bit her lip and bucked her hips into him, desperate for friction, for anything he could give her. "Please, Harry, fill me; mark me; knot me; break me. I need it." More words tumbled from her lips in an incoherent mess. She'd never been so desperate in her entire life, certainly not for a man. He was different though, made her feel like she was special, made her feel worthy of love. Just as long as she could be enough for him, maybe he would stay.

He tutted at her in gentle disapproval. "I'm not going to break you; I already told you; I take care of what's mine. I will fucking ruin you, though. You're mine now, I'm never letting you go. I'll fucking kill anyone who tries to take you from me." He pulled her with him as he walked over to the bed, pushing her down on the mattress. His room was bare, though that was hardly surprising. A wooden bed with gray sheets, gray walls, and hardly any decoration. The only splash of color in the entire room were the pictures on his dresser: all of his family, mostly Carla and who she could only assume was his little sister Poppy. He looked down at her sprawled across his bed, looking up at him with all her eyes, and he grinned. "Can I take a picture of you? I'd quite like to remember the day I made you mine."

She flushed at the notion, surprised, and nodded, swallowing back a sob. He wanted proof of her existence, proof that she lived, and that made her want him even more. "I suppose it's fitting. I'm your first love. This is my first photograph." It was simple; it was honest, and she gave him a sad smile. "My father never believed in indulging photography, thought it was too modern, that portraits were classier, and even then, I was never to pose for one. I'm a lot of things, Harry, but being loved by my parents was never one of them."

The very notion that he wanted to immortalize her, keep proof of her long after she'd ceased existing from this burden of a curse, should not have made her wet, but it did, desperate to be wanted, desperate for someone who wanted her as she was for as long as she could be. She only hoped it would be enough. "A first is a big milestone. Let's make it one to remember, one no one but the two of us will ever see.” She winked and tugged at the hem of her dress. It parted just enough to tease him further, sliding off her shoulders and hugging her breasts, slitting up the side as she let her legs fall open for him.

She knew that it was a strange concept for Harry to wrap his head around—the idea of not being loved—and it showed. It was obvious that he was loved—cherished even—by all those around him. Carla put a lot of pressure on him, but her love was immeasurable for her perfect son. Even his brothers loved him—despite the clearly tense relationship; it was clear that there was a lot of respect and admiration there. As he looked down upon Theia, it was evident that he could not imagine the life she had lived.

"Beautiful, gorgeous, mine." He praised her, pulling her out of her thoughts as he took picture after picture. “I’m going to plaster these over my walls; you will be the color to take over my gray, Theia.” She flushed at the declaration, at his poetry, moved by the notion that he wanted to surround himself with images of her.

She giggled and laughed as the light flashed, wondered if Vox was watching, if he was seeing what he'd once again failed to hold onto, a fact that she'd never dared to mention to Harry before, prayed it wouldn't affect them down the road even as she wondered to whom she ought to pray.

She knew that no man—no God for that matter—could ever compare to Harry anyway. No man could look quite like he did, could be as strong, as powerful, as tall. She had never been a good woman, never wanted to be, wasn't looking for a good man, either. She wanted a man who could be good to her—so good to her it was as if there were no other women in all of existence—and only Harry had ever met that criteria.

He put his phone into his back pocket before he slowly unbuckled his belt. There was an almost timid awkwardness to the movement, an unpractised action in front of company, and it excited her—she was his first.

As he unzipped his trousers, she tugged on the collar of her dress again, so as he pulled himself free from his confines, the fabric split for him, falling open to expose her fully. She found her mouth falling open in shock when she saw his absolutely massive cock, erect and pulsing with need, precum already glistening at the tip. It must have been an entire foot long and just short of half of that in width. A line of drool trickled out of her lips at the sight of it, thinking how she'd have to contort her features into her demon form just to take him into her mouth. It was a long moment before she spoke, entranced and mystified by the sheer size of it. "I've never even seen, much less had a man as big as you." She said when she finally found words, breathless as she parted her legs wider, wanting it, wanting him. "You're not even inside me yet and you've already ruined me for anyone else, alive or dead."

She felt a shiver run down her spine, spreading through her body in a wave as she imagined how she'd feel, how impossibly full she'd be stretched open on his cock. "Please, Harry, I need you." She moaned, practically begged, another line of drool falling from her lips.

Harry ripped his shirt open to reveal a chest of rippling muscle and thick burn scars across his entire body. A long silver chain ran down his chest, the center of which rested an ornate golden ring with a huge diamond on it.

He held the ring between two fingers, before placing a gentle kiss to it.

“This ring has been in my family for generations, a gift from first born son to first born son. My grandfather passed it down to me, as his did for him, and now it’s yours. My grandmother wore it her entire life. I hope you’ll choose to do the same.”

“I’m honored that you’d trust me with something so special to you, so important. I’ve never had something so meaningful as an heirloom before.” She replied, awestruck at the notion of having something so valuable: an heirloom that had somehow traversed death itself.

“I trust you with my heart, with my life. You’re one of the most important women in the world.” He said, and as if often the case was with Harry, every word was purposeful and full of meaning.

She blushed scarlet, shocked by his words. “Oh, view,” She said with a pun to try and brush away her self-conscious thoughts threatening to bubble to the surface, “it’s beautiful, Harry.”

“You’re beautiful, gorgeous, but not quite perfect.” He said, before he pulled off the large chain, carefully placing it above her so it could fall upon her own chest. “Now, you are perfect.”

She flushed even darker at his words, moved by his praise. While she didn’t think she was perfect normally, somehow, when he said it, she almost believed it. She moaned, opening her hips wider for him, ready and desperate. Understanding her want, her need, He gripped his cock, rubbing the thick head of it between the folds of her glistening pussy before he looked up at her. He slowly pressed against her slick entrance, carefully pushing forward with a clenched jaw. She spread her legs impossibly further, opening herself as wide as she could to make room for something so huge she was sure it would not fit, and then she watched as his eyes went wide. He seemed to stop breathing entirely as he finally thrust inside, and she felt her entire body tighten around him—he was so fucking big. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he cursed, grabbing her hips to pull her down further onto his aching cock. "Fuck, shit, Theia, need, mine."

She threw her head back as she felt him deep inside her, stretching her so she was full of him. She ached to belong to him, to be Harry’s girl, and as if he had read her mind, he demanded it of her.

"Say you're fucking mine; say it. I'll fucking—I don't fucking know; whatever you want Theia; what do you want? Fuck, I'll give it to you." He groaned.

A choked moan escaped her lips as he slid slowly—oh so slowly—inside of her. It needed to be slow just this once—stretching her open so well on his massive, absolutely gargantuan cock. Her own string of curses—a rarity for her—escaped her lips as she reached for him, settled her hands on his chiseled and hairy biceps, wanting more but finding him too far away from her. "Fuck!" The first came as a surprise, even to her, and the rest tumbled soon after. "Fuck, Harry, you're so fucking big!" Another line of drool escaped her mouth as tears pricked her eyes. Her gaze kept drifting from between him and the necklace he'd bestowed on her, the ring he'd deemed so important that he kept it close to his heart. She felt overwhelmed at the notion that he would give her something so valuable, so important to him, as a symbol of what they were, a symbol of what it meant to belong to him. It meant forever, something she hadn’t even considered an option until him. It glinted in the low lighting between her breasts, bounced as he thrust his hips. She'd almost been married once, long ago, to a man who she had never wanted to spend days with, much less her life. Harry had always been different, even from the beginning, even before he didn't see her as worthy like she apparently was now. The notion of being his, so completely his had the tears escaping from the sheer relief of being wanted, needed, possibly even loved. "I'm yours; of course I'm yours. I'll always fucking be yours!" It came out as a combination of a wail and a howl as he continued to plunge deeper into her, and she thought he was done, but as she looked down, it was merely a pause, allowing her body to take even more inside. She whined at that, desperate for more.

This was never going to work without them, and they wanted to escape. Her eyes flashed red at him, and the silhouette of her tentacles loomed around her as she gave him a lustful gaze. "They want you, Harry, just as I do." She moaned as she felt him sucked into her deeper by the sheer notion of them coming out to play. "They want to wrap around you and bury you inside of me, make you mine just as much as I am yours."

"I'm going to make you my fucking wife; you're going to be Theia James, and you're going to spend the rest of your fucking life on my cock. I'll fucking—fucking—shit!" He cursed as her tentacles—The Thousand Eyes—emerged from her back to wrap around him, pulling him closer as he fell on top of her, his cock piercing through to the hilt and she screamed. He grabbed her hips, pulling her closer so he could be deeper, and the head of his cock hit something, a wall deep inside her that made her wail. "Mine. You have no fucking idea how much I want you, how much I've watched you. Fuck. I'm yours. Forever and always. Fucking watch anyone try to take you from me, fucking watch them try." He snarled, claws digging into her as his usually yellow eyes slowly faded away into a dark, shadowy black.

She looked down and saw the large bulge poking up from her abdomen; he was stretching her to force her to accept his cock. He was reshaping her body to suit his needs, remaking her to match his. He began to thrust with earnest, hard and fast as she howled and writhed around him. He placed a hand on either side of her head, pressing his forehead against hers, and she watched a broad grin split across his face, as if he felt giddy that the seven eyes on her face were all on him. "Perfect Theia for Perfect Harry." He purred as he thrust forward, burying himself inside her to the hilt. "Perfect Theia, Perfect Theia, Perfect fucking Theia." He panted in time to his thrusts, never once taking his eyes off her.

Her arms wrapped around his neck as he pounded into her, tentacles writhing around his limbs as she shook with pleasure, achingly close to the edge again as he called her perfect and his. Being his, being perfect enough for him was all she wanted, all she could ever need, and she felt this in every fiber of her being as she felt him hit that spot inside her over and over again. She could do that, be his perfect wife, be the perfect woman for him, if he'd let her stay, let her be his for all she had, all she could give him. She had a desperate want inside her, and he seemed to fulfill everything she'd ever needed, everything she'd ever craved. He wasn't familiar with how her body worked yet, but he would be, would learn every inch of her, would know every way that sent her reeling, but right now, she needed to teach him. One of her tentacles found his hand and pulled it to where she needed, curled around his fingers to show him exactly how she liked to be touched, brushing against her clit in just the right way to send her keening, arching into him as she took him even deeper, singing for him. "Perfect for you. Theia James, just for you. Yours!" She sobbed between breaths, so full to the brim and craving more even as her body shook. "Make me yours forever! I want your teeth on my skin. I want your name carved above my heart. I want to put my mark on your skin, show everyone that you are mine." She declared before it devolved into begging, "Bite me; mark me; fill me; breed me!" It was these words that sent her crashing through another orgasm, screaming, his name on her lips.

A snarl ripped from his lips, primal and violent, before he bit down into her neck. It was sharp and harsh as her blood flowed into his mouth. She screamed in pain but he didn't let go, couldn't let go. He wrapped his hands around the back of her shoulders, pulling her down on his cock as he thrusted up, before he was cumming deep inside her. He let out a howl as he did so, alerting all in the house that she was his. She felt his knot expand within her, stretching her impossibly wide as they were bound together. "MINE. YOU'RE FUCKING MINE." He snarled, claws digging into her naked shoulders and sweat dripping down his face. There was something animalistic to his voice, something deep and dark inside him trying to escape.

"Ỹ̸̲Ō̵͍Ụ̶̏R̸̫͊S̸̟͆!" She howled, eyes flashing red as her tentacles tightened around him, pulled him even closer to her, her nails pricked his scalp as her blood flowed into his mouth. "Ä̷͙́N̴͕͒D̸̹͒ ̵͕̿Y̷̧̛Ò̶̗U̶͔̐'̶̯̓R̵̽͜E̵̪̎ ̸͔̌M̷̹͐I̷̻̽Ñ̶̳Ẽ̴̯,̶̙̏ ̷̠̏Ḧ̸̯Á̷̘R̶̨͌Ŕ̷͕Y̴͇̐ ̴̪̔J̶̺͒A̴̪̚M̵͇̐E̸̍͜S̸͍̽!̷͉͐ ̴̛̺D̶̫̃Ō̵̯N̵̛͈'̶̹͘T̵̪̏ ̵͙̈Y̵̠͌O̵̡̕U̵̻͊ ̶̪̀É̸̟V̵͍̿Ë̷̢Ṙ̵̦ ̴̝̀F̸͎̈́U̴͇͒C̵̺̿K̸͙̊Ḯ̴̲N̵̦͂Ḡ̴̝ ̷͓̎F̵̬́Ȯ̷̢R̶͙̍G̵̳̈E̵̢̊T̴͚̾ ̴̮͛İ̶͕Ṯ̶͑!" Her demon voice slipped through as she roared, sinking her teeth into his neck in turn. His blood was sweet on her tongue, strong and musky and so him. She moaned into his neck as she drank from him, felt as he drank from her. She stayed there, lapping at the wound and licking him clean, sealing it with her tongue as she felt him slowly do the same. She wondered what he'd think when he saw the color of her blood, or maybe he already knew, wondered if it tasted different than that of a sinner. "Yours, Harrison James. Always yours." She murmured as he held her, his full first name slipping out on accident from her lips, with him still knotted deep inside her. They'd be stuck like this for hours. The knowledge of this sent another shiver through her, and she reached up to stroke his ears with a sweet smile. She hadn't meant to call him that, but had thought of him as more than Harry, just Harry, Perfect Harry. He was Harrison: handsome, strong, brave, hers for longer than she'd cared to want, longer than she'd be willing to admit. She'd wanted him to be hers and now he was, so it slipped out without warning. She hoped he wouldn't be upset, wouldn't hate that name from her lips. She knew if it were anyone else it would be bitter or scathing, furious or disappointed. From her, that name would only be loving, affectionate, and kind, if he'd allow her to give him that. "Sorry." She whispered sadly, "I know that name makes you uncomfortable. I have to admit I think it suits you better. Strong. Handsome. Mine."

"I can be Harrison for you, only for you. It'll be our little secret." He whispered, before he kissed her, slow and sensual. Red and black blood mixed on their tongues as they kissed. He'd want to bring that up later, likely much later. She knew the kind of man he was; he would want to hold her, all her secrets, and the weight of the world on his shoulders. She could only hope he would trust her enough to let her hold his too. His ears twitched as she stroked them, and he could feel his large tail wag from behind him in pleasure. He'd have her tied to him for hours, and then they'd go again; she never wanted to be free of him. "My Theia, my beautiful Theia."

She flushed with a smile, kissed him back as she knew he understood she was different, different in ways he didn't fully understand but hadn't been upset or disgusted with her. Their little secret he'd called it, and she smiled. One more for them to share. "A secret for a secret then." She found herself telling him. "If you'll be Harrison for me, I can be Iris for you, if you want." She murmured softly. "I love the name Theia, and it's more mine than it, but I want you to have it, to know it, for I love you more than any name in all of existence, in all of time itself." She continued to stroke his ears, carding her fingers through his hair, as she told him, "I left a life I didn't want to have my own here. I meant to run away, escape a marriage I had never wanted, hide for the years I have left, and disappear. I never meant to fall in love." She kissed him again, deeper this time. "Well met, Harrison James. My parents named me Iris, gave me a title and power, then stripped it away. I left that life a long time ago. For you, I will be Theia James, your wife for now and always." "Your name is Theia James; no one can strip that from you: forever defended, forever cherished, forever mine." He told her, and she understood that just as she didn’t like the name Iris, he would never speak it, that he wouldn’t stand to hear anyone call her by it ever again, and it was just as she wanted. She saw his ears press against his skull in sudden embarrassment, pulling her from her thoughts. "Sorry for cursing so much; you just felt really good." He chuckled, as she saw his face go red with embarrassment.

He pressed one hand against the back of her head, and the other to her waist so he could roll them over. He laid with his back on the bed while she was on top of him. He pulled her head against his chest—his heart—and sighed contentedly.

“I will never understand how my father could break my mother down so viciously, how he could stand to be so cruel to her, but know that I never will. I will never allow that swine of a man near you; I will never allow any man to taint your perfection. I will keep you safe: forever and always. I love you Theia James, my wife.” He said to her, and it sounded like more than a promise; it was a vow.

As she internally winced at the notion of keeping her from a man she had once allowed his entanglement—his company—she thought about his declaration to her. Vows and integrity were important. To declare something so crucial and follow through to the end without the necessity of a deal was something to which she too adhered, something she insisted she followed. It gave her great relief to know he was the same. She purred and curled into his embrace; the sound of his heartbeat soothed her as she started to be lulled into sleep even as they were still tied together. She knew they'd likely wake to do it all again, more secrets to share and more devotion to confess. “I love you as you are, my Harrison James.” She murmured even as her eyes drifted closed. “Swearing and all.” He loved her, and it felt right. She'd given him her heart, and he had vowed to cherish it, protect her, and love her forever, even as she knew that wasn't yet viable. She'd never understand how her parents could be so cruel to their own family, their own children, to each other. She would never be that way to Harrison—her Harrison. No one had ever thought to come looking for her here, not in the last sixteen years. She'd stay safe from her family with him, and they'd never need to come looking for her, far away in Pentagram City. She didn't need to break the curse. She'd found happiness in this, in them. This was enough. She'd be safe, in his arms, for all the time she had left.

A/N: Theia and Harry are fucking stupidly cute. He'd tear the world apart and lay it at her feet for her if it'd keep those eyes on him, would devour anyone stupid enough to get in his way---especially those who would to seek to take the woman he's deemed as his, his wife, away from him. She's so desperate for love, for someone who will keep her safe and devote their life to her so that she can do the same, that all she wants to do is be perfect for him, just as he is Perfect Harry, the perfect son, for his mother. These two make me ill and their obscene height difference is hot as fuck. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

The Demon of a Thousand Eyes masterlist || A Mother's Devotion masterlist

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